<html><head><style type="text/css"><!-- DIV {margin:0px;} --></style></head><body><div style="font-family:arial,helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:10pt"><div style="font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><div style="font-family: times new roman,new york,times,serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br><br>A deep scowl crosses my face.<br><br>"They went shopping??"<br><br>"Didn't I say they were to arrange with the port services to get the <br>repairs done?"<br><br>"I doubt we'll be needing to make a fast escape. And I don't want any <br>escape plots on the navigational system just sitting in the memory <br>banks for some dumb ass mudman to have access to while we are gone. <br>However, something is going on here. I don't know what yet. But I <br>don't like the smell of it."<br><br>--<br>Captain Alexander "Mad Dog" Mitchell<br><br>++++++++++++++++++++++<br><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br>Montez wags his
tail and does a very human shrug (he's been practicing); "Our technical pair actually went shopping for equipment and supplies to effect the repairs on the life support system."<br><br>His ears perk forward a bit in a sign of interest; "We can probably keep the drives warm under cover of doing thruster alignments. Our engineer is good at that. If we are ready to thrust we can take care of the plot later." He looks over at Boris for a moment and back to the captain; "So, did something come up in your debriefings earlier today?"<br><br>Matt<br></div><br></div></div><br>
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