<div dir="ltr"><span id="gmail-docs-internal-guid-27ace17b-7fff-dfb8-3828-f80744ba05ff"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";color:rgb(38,40,42);font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">Mission: Prelude</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";color:rgb(38,40,42);background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">Day: 5</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";color:rgb(38,40,42);background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">Stardate: 2446.03.27</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;padding:10pt 0pt 0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">(Earth, Manchester - Gorton Cemetery – Civilian Teresa Jackson – 1504)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">Teresa Jackson was fuming.  She paused for a second.  Fuming might not have been the right word.  Raging was probably the better word.  Infuriated was running a close second.  Some idiot had walked up to one of her horses and given a speech about T’Shaliath and everything that had happened.  He’d then whistled his way out of the barn, heading for the exit.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">Teresa Jackson was many things, but suffering fools wasn’t one of them.  She picked up a shovel and walked determinedly out of the barn after the man who had called himself ‘Alex.’  She could tell by the communications badge on his coat that he was Starfleet, and she suspected he was a crewmate of T’Shaliath.  She wasn’t sure how he’d found out about their shared history, but she was furious that he thought this was a game to be played on her property.  She slammed the shovel down on the concrete path he was walking on and cleared her throat as she shouted, “Who in the hell do you think you are?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">(reply Dyson)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">Jackson shook her head, “I don’t care about your rank, job title, or anything of that crap, and you know it.  Who in the hell do you think you are to come down here, play games talking to my horse like it’s me, and the waltz out thinking that’s fine as whatever wine you’ve clearly been drinking?</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">(reply Dyson)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"> </p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">(reply Dyson)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt"><span style="font-size:12pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";background-color:transparent;font-variant-numeric:normal;font-variant-east-asian:normal;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">(posted by Aaron DeLay)</span></p></span><br class="gmail-Apple-interchange-newline"></div>