<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body dir="auto"><div dir="ltr"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><div dir="ltr"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><div dir="ltr"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><div dir="ltr"><span>Mission: LIghts, Cameras.....Action</span><br><span>Day: 1</span><br><span>Stardate 2446:1:1 / 2925:6:30</span><br><span></span><br><span>( Toronto - Pinewood Studios -Dressing Room Seven - COO LTjg Paul Sleeford Saul Pickford 10:00)</span><br><span></span><br>Sitting at the desk Paul read the script of the show he apparently was in, flicking through the pages he tried not to laugh, whoever had written this drivel had never served on a rowing boat, let alone a starship. </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Coming to the pages marked ‘Character bios’ he paused did he really want to know m, was he ready for the shock. Plunging in he read them in descending order from the Captain down. Getting to his character he stopped and took a swig of water.</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">‘<font face="Verdana"><i>Paul Sleeford is a man wracked by guilt, his career as a Space Marine Officer, was cut short after his court martial found him not guilty of the murder of his troop, but guilty of incompetence and the reckless abandon which lead to the deaths of twelve officers and men. Stopped of his rank and discharged he drifted into Starfleet and took security as his job. </i></font></div><div dir="ltr"><font face="Verdana"><i>After an incident involving a senior officer, who was later found dead, Sleeford was moved to Operations as a sideways career move, given a head of department nod, in a department that ran itself.’</i></font></div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr"><span></span>Reading through the rest of the crew Paul burst out laughing. Must if the crew lust in the pages here where the polar opposites of real life, like someone had looked at their files, took one line and moulded a person around it. </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">His thoughts where interrupted by the sounds of clicking on the floor outside the door, hearing the sounds of someone in a worse mood then him, walking into the room was a young woman, with bright red hair, not the usual ginger but bright scarlet, looking uncomfortable in a dress clearly designed not to wear underwear beneath it.</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">Walking over to the fridge she bent to grab a can, flashing more flesh then she intended or at least Paul hoped it was unintended. As she sat opposite took a look at her, something about her made him frown, he’d seen the self assured outlook before. </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">( reply’s none)</div><div dir="ltr">(Posted by Alistair)</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr"><br><span>I Sent from my iPhone</span><br></div></div></div></div></body></html>