"...And then after I open up the damn panel, what do I find? Nothing."

Kezal finished his rant by throwing a pen onto his desk, much to the amusement of his partner, seated behind a similar desk opposite him. Their office was small and cramped, even by the standards of Station 13's security division. There was just enough space for their desks, a few filing cabinets and a small lane between their desks to allow them to move. Despite the small space, the office was crammed with stacks of papers, folders, most of them on the desks of the two officers. Kezal even had a rifle leaning against the wall beside his chair, and a sword hung up on the wall behind him. On the other side, his colleague had several old, pin-up posters pasted on the wall behind him and oddly, a baseball bat leaning against the wall beside his chair.

"What'd I tell you, Kez? This job pays well, but we have to deal with eejits on a daily basis." Kezal's colleague said and sat up straight in his seat. The name plate on his desk identified him as sergeant Glen Doohan, though the two of them knew that the rank meant nothing within the security division. Outside, however, it did give them some authority over civilians. 

Kezal scowled despite knowing that his face was hidden behind the full-face helmet he wore. He had been allowed to keep the armour he had worn during his days in the Sera'Shuun military after he had been discharged. Since every Sera'Shuun citizen was expected to return to duty in the event of a war, it made sense to have every citizen keep the suit of armour they had been issued during their compulsory service. Also, most armour suits were customized to show a soldier's clan and tribal loyalties. Kezal's suit was painted the deep blue hue of the Sikal'Shuun and adorned with the pristine white stripes of his family's clan.

"I know," Kezal said with a sigh. "But it rattles my plates after a while."

"Rattles your what now?" Glen asked with a smirk. Neither of them were paying even the slightest attention to what the Station AI had to say. It rarely informed them of anything useful, anyway.

"Gets on my nerves," Kezal corrected himself. He had only been working with humans for a few weeks and was still getting used to their phrases and mannerisms. The translator did a good enough job of making him understood, but sometimes it translated things a little too literally. "I swear to my ancestors, if the we get another call regarding-"

He never got a chance to complete his sentence, as the box-shaped device on his desk suddenly rang, as if on cue. Kezal and Glen looked at each other for a moment. Glen arched his brow and Kezal sighed as he reached forward and pressed a button on the box, channeling the call directly to his helmet's communication system. "Good morning, Station 13 security division. Sergeant Vazarik'Sikalaz speaking. How may I help?" He paused as he listened to the lady's complaint. "Noises behind the walls? I see. Please hold for a moment while I check with our maintenance crew to see if there are any schedules maintenance activities in your area. Thank you."

He pressed the same button on the box, leaned back and placed his feet on the desk. "Aren't you going to respond?" Glen asked with a smirk on his face.

"Nope," Kezal replied, but then got to his feet. "But I should-Wait, what's this? I'm getting a message that tells me that I'm needed at inbound cargo. Could be contraband or attempted smuggling."

Glen arched a brow. "I'm not getting anything on my headset."

Kezal shrugged. "Must be just me, but as a good security officer, I should probably check it out." He said, then pressed the button on the box, returning to his call. "Yes, I'm afraid maintenance isn't responding right now and I have been tasked with important matters at cargo. However," He trailed off and made his way to the door, punching in the key code to allow the doors to slide open. "My colleague, sergeant Doohan, will be more than happy to help. He will be there shortly." He slipped through the doors and they slid shut before Glen had a chance to protest.

Kezal chuckled to himself and made his way towards the cargo import bay. It was not a long walk from his office; after all, his office was the one responsible for answering the requests for help from the cargo bays. It showed just how little trouble was expected when a grand total of two officers were allocated for both the import and export bay. Very rarely did they actually catch any contraband, and when they did, it was often just the usual drugs and narcotics. Never had it been anything Kezal found remotely exciting, such as arms shipments. 

He turned a corner and found himself looking at a square-shaped room filled with crates, and people all over the place trying to find out just what was supposed to go where. "If I recall..." He muttered to himself, vaguely remembering the Station AI mention something about another AI construct possible being on the station. It was probably either just a ship passing too close or someone bringing onboard an unlicensed construct. AI smuggling was unheard of, but Kezal figured that there had to be a first for everything. With that in mind, he quickly made his way towards the pile of crates which had only been recently brought in. He stood with his arms crossed, watching the workers go through the paperwork and just waiting for the slightest hint of trouble.