A tall, broad-shouldered Zeltron man steps confidently down from the boarding ramp, running wine-dark fingers through the cherry red of his close-cropped hair. Brown robes swish around his boots as he looks around at one of Threshold Corporation's artifact storage facilities. Hopefully the organic staffers supervising that damnable autoresponder droid realize they aren't qualified to store dangerous objects like this after he breaks through their attempts at security.
Seriously, who programs their droid to say there are no people available to escalate to? Threshold must be incompetent.