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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Mission: Death in the Shadows</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Day 8</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Stardate 2446.02.08</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">(USS Illuminar - Deck 2- Weston’s Quarters - CMO Lt. Quinna Solice/ SFI Michael Weston - 1420)</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">In the time that Quinna had been sleeping Weston had managed to stay busy. He did not want to take the chance of destroying the new cover he had been able to create the night before for both
himself and Quinna by leaving. Eventually they were going to have to go to sickbay to retrieve the PADD, but that would be for a different mission, and a different time. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">If he was being monitored, then his access to the computers would most likely be monitored as well. He wanted to keep those appearances up as well. When he woke up he began a computer search
of Captain Sekal. He wanted to know what these people thought that they had on the Vulcan. He also needed to tread carefully since he had no desire for Luma to put him in a time out in an airlock or a very tight Jeffries tube. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">After a few hours of eye burning research he found a few items that were interesting but nothing damning. Perhaps it was all completely made up, but in his experience Michael had found that
all good lies had a modicum of truth to them. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">At 1300 hours he decided it was time for lunch. Amazingly Quinna was still asleep. He decided to leave her be. She clearly need it and it would give him time to prepare a decent lunch. Replicators
were fine for the most part, but real cooked food had a flavor that replicators could not reproduce. Sadly he did have to replicate many of the ingredients, but as his mom used to tell him, the most important ingredient was love. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">He had lost himself in the ministrations of creating the meal when he heard a voice call out. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Michael?” It was a mixture of curiosity and concern. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">He left his work and went to to bedroom. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Well good afternoon sleepyhead,” he teased. “How are you feeling?”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Quinna moved to sit at the edge of the bed, “I am not sure. I have never slept this long. Why did you let me sleep?” Quinna was looking around for her boots. “Something smells good.” Quinna
stood and adjusted her clothing.</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Weston shrugged, “You’ve had a busy couple days and you seemed to need it. My motto is, if your body is telling you something, you should probably listen.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">He could smell his work bubbling in the kitchenette that the VIP quarters had. Must be in case some mucketymucks can only eat certain foods. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“I hope you like real Italian food,” he said, kissing his fingertips and spreading his fingers. “Mama Weston’s spaghetti and meatballs. Well, almost. There are some things that needed adjustments
due to the replicators. However, I think I done her proud.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Quinna was ready to leave, she was so late for her duty that her shift was almost over anyway. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Oh you cooked. I so love pasta.” Quinna was torn. “Oh well I missed my duty shift anyway.” </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Michael said. “I made sure they were aware you wouldn’t be there. Don’t worry I was discreet.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Quinna moved over closer to the chef. “So are there any alternative motives by seducing me with spaghetti?” Quinna asked.</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Other than hunger,” he replied, “and the fact I hadn’t cooked for you yet. No, not really. Maybe I’d like you to like me?”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“I have about two minute left if you want to come on out to the table,” he invited as he left the room. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Quinna made her way to the table. She put her boots and sweater down on the floor next to the chair. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">He went into the kitchen and checked the pasta. He picked up a strand of spaghetti from the water, blew on it and took bite. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">He looked over at Quinna and wiggled his eyebrows. “Perfecto.” </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">He stirred the sauce and gave that a taste as well. Looking at the pan he nodded and frowned at the same time. “Not quite mama’s but not bad.” </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">He dumped the pasta into a strainer and brought it to the table, then serve a portion on the two set plates. Then he went back and brought out a pan of meatballs, putting two large ones on
each plate. Finally he brought out the sauce and served that on top of everything. He put the sauce pan in the kitchenette then joined Quinna at the table. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Bouno appetitto,” he said, looking on expectantly. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“It looks wonderful.” Quinna said. “My compliments to your mother.” Quinna twirled some spaghetti onto her fork and took a bite. The fork was a bit over filled but she managed to take a
huge bite. She always made the first bite the fullest. “Mmmmmm” she moaned as she was trying to get that first bite down.</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Michael smiled, “I will pass your compliment along.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Using her napkin she wiped her mouth, “Sorry, that first bite has always been the doozie since as long as I can remember.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Never apologize, kid,” he smiled. “The greatest compliment is a stained shirt. It’s a little early for wine for me,” he admitted, “but I did replicate some lemonade if you like.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Quinna agreed, “That would be great. I am actually not drinking right now.” After a Pause, “I was thinking, I need to be back in sickbay and back on the duty roster.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Michael shrigged his shoulders, “I can’t say I’m not worried about letting you out of my sight. But can we finish lunch first? After I did not give them a time to expect you.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Then he went on, “I’ve spent a bit of my day looking for any information on the evidence that they may have had on Sekal. Can you remember anything else that Sanchez may have told you?”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Everything is on that PADD.” Quinna said, “I know you found it. Where is it?” She was not willing to give up anymore until it was in her hands.</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Michael took a bite of one of his meatballs then went to get the drinks. He returned with two tall frosted glasses filled with iced lemonade. He placed a cup in front of Quinna then sat down
with his own cup and took a sip. </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“That is refreshing,” he said. Then he looked at Quinna innocently. “What makes you say that?” </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Really, Michael?” Quinna started, “Do you have it? No wait, do you know it’s current location?”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Michael laughed heartily, “You are learning to ask the right, direct questions my dear.” He nodded and for a reward he gave her the truth. “I have found it, and it should still be where I left
it. If you like, when we’re done eating we can collect it.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Quinna thought for a moment. “No. First off, that was too easy to get you to agree to that. We should keep two halves of the knowledge apart.” Quinna went back to eating her spaghetti.</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Michael nodded and smiled, “You are definitely getting the hang of this. Agreed. Until we can act then we keep our information to ourselves. You don’t need to know where the PADD is and you
can keep your secrets.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Agreed, but I am not going to sit here and hide away. I need to be back on duty. I need to be unsuspecting of what can potentially happen. If they suspect I…” Quinna suddenly stopped,”
This meatball is great. You have to teach me your secret to a juicy meatball.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Michael put his knife and fork down and leaned forward. He shook his head. “I’m afraid that there are somethings that I am unwilling to part with in this life.” Then he say back and smiled,
“Although if I were going to share with anyone, it would be you.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">Quinna blushed at the moment, “Maybe one day you can tell me your recipe.” </span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">“Maybe,” Michael nodded, and lifted his glass. “Here’s to one day.”</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">(reply none)</span></p>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; font-family: Arial; font-weight: 400">(posted by Al Muir and Kris B)</span></p>
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