<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><span class="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Mission: Lights, Camera….Action?</span><br class="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span class="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Day: 1</span><br class="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span class="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Stardate: 2446.01.01/2025.06.30</span><br class="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><br class="" style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><font face="georgia, serif" class="">(Toronto, Canada - Pinewood Studios, Entrance - aACMO Ensign SG Heinrich Kruze/Oliver Bader-Pagitt -1030)</font><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class="">Star Trek: Exeter was filmed in what looked like a large hanger bay. The building had its own entrance with its own reception. A smartly dressed guard asked Heinrich, or rather Oliver, for identification. Heinrich had given no thought to identification. He checked his pants pockets to see if Oliver had left something, anything, but there was nothing but lint. “I seem to have misplaced it.” Heinrich said.</font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class="">“Look, you can’t just barge in and out at a whim.” The guard said, clearly frustrated. “We’ve been through this. If you don’t have your ID I can’t let you in.” Heinrich was going to point out that if the guard knew who he was, seeing as he said “they” had been through this, then there must be no need for an ID. But before he could open his big mouth a young woman opened the door and interrupted the conversation.</font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class="">“OLIVER! You’re over an hour late!” Heinrich could recognize from her voice that she was “The Beast.” She couldn’t have been taller than Heinrich’s chest, but she had fierce brown eyes that frightened him. “Just let him through!” She barked at the guard. Her eyes had the same effect on him, as he apologized and let Heinrich walk past.</font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class="">“What are you wearing!?” She yelled. </font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class="">“Uh, plaid pants, suspenders, a T shirt…”</font></div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class="">“I didn’t mean for you to TELL me! I have eyes. I meant, ugh!” Heinrich did not feel comfortable around The Beast, and wondered if Oliver would have felt the same way. “We need to get you to wardrobe, not only for the fitting but also… I can’t believe you went out in that.” Heinrich said nothing as The Beast dragged him through the set and into the wardrobe department.</font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class=""><br class=""></font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class="">(Reply any)</font></div><div class=""><font face="georgia, serif" class="">(Posted by Tim)</font></div></body></html>