Andirrul was highly confused. The vengeful Lord Virul side of her personality momentarily seized control of her mind and said, Zula'ra! Chtoi di mano, a? Once again, she slapped her hand over her mouth. "What did I just say, Lord Tyrannus?" she asked. "Or, more fittingly, what did Lord Virul just say?"
Iyav Dourden hated his job. Patrolling a space station was no easy task, but he wasn't even a genuine security officer. He was what the civilian passersby looked at askance and laughed at. He was the lowest of the low--a trainee!
"Hey, there, rookie!" His supervisor took a long slurp of his caf, not caring that one-fourth of it was dribbling down his chin. "Look sharp, Dour-den!"
Iyav winced. Why do you think I'm always in such a bad mood? he wanted to sneer right back at his boss, with his paunchy belly that hung right over his belt and his jowly, potato-shaped head. Nevertheless, he was being dragged along on this assignment with him and his smelly, drug-sniffing kath hounds. There had apparently been an illegal shipment of spice to the station, and it was his superior's job to try and uncover it before it got used.
He himself despised the hypocrisy of it. As if you never chewed spice!
Suddenly, one of the hounds squatted down and relieved himself on the floor.
"Don't forget to scoop!" howled the security guard, moving on ahead. It was left to Iyav to clean up the mess, as it always was with a "trainee's" job...