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<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false">Perhaps its time for Trei to help Weston. She has means that he doesn't</div><div><br></div>
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On Saturday, June 12, 2021, 07:41:36 PM EDT, Al Muir via illuminar-rpg <illuminar-rpg@startrekfreedom.com> wrote:
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<span style="font-size:10.5pt;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><font face="Arial" style="background-color: inherit;">Mission: Death in the Shadows</font></span></p>
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<span style="font-size:10.5pt;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><font face="Arial" style="background-color: inherit;">Day: 5</font></span></p>
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<span style="font-size:10.5pt;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap;"><font face="Arial" style="background-color: inherit;">Stardate: 2446.02.04</font></span></p>
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<span style="vertical-align:baseline;"><font face="Arial" style="background-color: inherit;"><font face="-webkit-standard" size="3"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">(USS Illuminar - Deck 2
</span></font><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">–</span><font face="-webkit-standard" size="3"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;"> Personal Quarters of Robet Flay – SFI Michael Weston – 0500)</span></font></font></span></p>
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<span style="vertical-align:baseline;"><font face="Arial" style="background-color: inherit;"><font face="-webkit-standard" size="3"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><span style="vertical-align:baseline;"><font style="background-color: inherit;"><font face="-webkit-standard" size="3"><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">It
didn</span></font><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">’</span><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">t take long to Michael to use the information from the DNA scan to identify another person who had held the device. All evidence
pointed to Crewman Robert Flay. He was the one who had delivered the last meal to Sanchez. This made it most likely that he was the one who
</span></font></font></font></span><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">poisoned Sanchez. It was either him, or the person that replicated the food. But Howard Johnson’s DNA was not on the PADD.</span></font></p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Weston wanted to have a word with Flay, alone. So he made his way to the man’s quarters and
</span></font><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">… found his way inside. He grabbed a chair and put it beside the bed then sat and watched as the crewman slept. Then when he was ready he kicked the side of the bed. Flay opened
his eyes and sat up, fear in his eyes as they focused on the figure in his room.</span></font></p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">“Good morning Mr. Flay,”Michael said in greeting.
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Flay moved quickly to reach for his weapon but Weston clucked at him. “Tsk</span></font><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">…
tsk…, you are not going to find this weapon there.” He tossed a small hand weapon onto the edge of the bed closest to himself.</span></font></p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">“What</span></font><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">… what do you want,” Flay
stammered.</span></font></p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">“Oh, nothing much,”Michael replied nonchalantly. “Just the names of the Roanoke operatives on this ship, and the
name of the person that you report to. Who ordered the death of poor Mr. Sanchez?</span></font><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">”</span></font></p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Flay told him
</span></font><font face="Calibri,sans-serif"><span style="white-space:pre-wrap;">predictably.</span></font></p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Michael nodded, “Of course you don’t. Look let’s be honest with each other, can we? I’d could employ some very … painful methods of persuasion to get you to tell me what I need to
know, which, again, since we’re being honest, I would enjoy extremely. I could use this,” he held up a vial of a clear blue liquid, “which would make your mind a little more … malleable, and receptive to common sense. Or you could avoid all of that and tell
me what I need to know.”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">“I’m telling,” Flay said, “I don’t know anything.”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Michael moved quickly and violently and struck Flay with the back of his hand across his face. Flay went rolling out of the bed and onto the floor. Weston shook his hand and nodded.
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">“Well that was not as satisfying as I would have hoped it would be,” he said sounding disappointed. “I suppose I’m going to have to use a little more force.”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Flay scuttled back to the wall holding up his hands, “Look, I don’t know anything. I’m telling you the truth.”</p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Weston looked sad, “I’m afraid I just don’t believe you. You see, your DNA is all over this PADD, which is locked. I think you can help me open it.” He tossed the PADD onto the bed.</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Now the look of terror was a little more real. Weston stepped towards Flay and grabbed a handful of his hair. He cocked his fist back and looked down at Flay with an imploring expression.
“No?” He nodded and then drove the fist into Flay’s chest. </p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Flay started to cough and roll on the floor in agony. “Give me something,” Weston said. “Just so the violence can stop.”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Flay suddenly looked defiant, “You’ll never learn anything from me you bastard. You can go and f…”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Weston drove his foot into Flay’s ribs, causing him to double over in agony. “Let’s be civil about this. No need for profanity. But now that you’ve all but admitted your participation
in Sanchez’s death and Roanoke, you may as well tell me the rest.”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Flay managed to get back into a seated position and shook his head. “I can’t. They’d kill me. They’d kill my family. They’d kill anyone that my family knew. Besides, I wasn’t lying.
I don’t know anything.”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Weston shook his head, “Option B.” He stepped over to Flay and stood on the man’s hand. When he opened his mouth to scream he unstopped the vial and poured it down Flay’s throat.
“That is Proton Plus. It is an experimental drug that leaves the mind a little more susceptible to suggestion. So I will suggest that you tell me everything you know. Then I will let everyone on the ship know that you have told me everything, and I will
let your friends deal with you.”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">“Listen,” Flay said in a panic, “I have no idea who else is on board, or if anyone else is on board. We don’t know who each other are. I received orders to deal with Sanchez, before
he became a leak. I couldn’t find the PADD, but I’d planned to go back and look again. You just beat me to it. I really don’t know,”</p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Weston looked at Flay with a frown. He’d questioned enough people to know when he’s heard the truth. He picked up Flay and moved him to the bed. </p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">“Open the files on the PADD,” Michael ordered. “And don’t say you can’t. You’ve had it in your possession before. I want to know what’s on it.”</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;"><br>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">He picked up the PADD and put it in Flay’s hand. Flay looked at the device as if it were going to bite him. But before he could do anything else he began convulsing. Within a minute
the spasms stopped and Flay lay motionless. When Weston reached over and touched the body. He could already feel it cooling off. Flay was dead. </p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">Michael searched the man but could not find what killed him. He spent some time going through his quarters but the only incriminating evidence he could find was the weapon he had
tried to grab and the fact that he was dead. </p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">He was working under the rules of Star Fleet and Captain Sekal. He probably should report the dead body. He shook his head as he left the room. The body count was growing and he had
a bad feeling that this was not going to be the last. </p>
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<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">(reply none)</p>
<p dir="ltr" style="line-height:1.38;margin-top:0pt;margin-bottom:0pt;">(Posted by Al Muir)</p>
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