File Maintainer: Jackie Laderoute (am908@FreeNet.Carleton.CA)

	  _CHAPTER 33: THE RETURN OF EMILY TARRANT!_

The doors to the observation lounge swooshed open to admit Dr. Mac, whose
nostrils were promptly assailed by a mixture of delicious odours.  The
doctor paused to take in the scene.  All the senior officers were present,
with the exception of the Captain, Cmdr. Roberge and Lt. Cmdr. Richer.
Each had apparently brought some sort of dish.  The Duckman sat at the
head of the table behind an enormous mound of hot buttered scones.

"If I'd known this was going to be a pot-luck briefing, I would have made
potato salad," said the doctor, seating himself next to Lt. Cmdr. M'Dok. 
The Klingon had brought an... interesting... looking dish, no doubt
indigenous to the Klingon Homeworld.

"Apparently," grumbled Cmdr. Duckman from behind the pile of biscuits,
"yuir the only one aboard who didn't try to one-up me after I let it be
known I was bringing scones." 

The others raised their voices to protest, insisting that it was a
[Betazoid, Klingon, Vulcan] custom to bring food to a gathering, when
others were as well.

"All right.  Well, I suppose we'd better eat this stuff before it goes
cold.  Anyone for a scone?"

While the Chief Engineer shoved his mound of scones in the direction of
Sol'tarr and Dr. LaBossiere, M'Dok leaned over to the doctor:  "You must
try my gakh!" he invited, in typical Klingon fashion.

"Oh.. Ah.. yes of course!" replied the doctor, nervously, as the tactical
officer placed a steaming plate of the Klingon dish in front of him. 
Using an odd utensil that was likely a restricted weapon in certain parts
of the galaxy, he took an adventurous mouthful.

Mac grimaced inwardly.  It was horrible!  But the Klingon eyes held his
gaze expectantly.  Mac decided that insulting a seven-foot Klingon might
be more injurious than food poisoning, so with great effort he chewed.

"It's delicious.." he tried to say around the mouthful, but he began
choking: "Gakh! Gakh!"

M'Dok beamed with pride.

****

Lt. Cmdr. Richer strode quickly through the corridor with a large jelly
mould under one arm.  He hated to be late, but what could you do about
gelatin except wait for it to set? 

"Just because I have a messy room," he thought to himself, "doesn't mean I
should serve runny jelly."

The Yridian's keen ears caught the sound of a crash as he passed the doors
to sickbay.  Suddenly, the chef disappeared, and the security officer took
over.  He quickly backtracked and rushed into sickbay.

"Doctor?  Nurse?" he called, but neither Dr. Scholl or Nurse Ramroopsingh
responded.  He turned a corner to see a table turned over.  Below the
table was trapped the naked form of the Nurse.

He leaned down to lift up the table, but Eileen said weakly: "The stasis
chamber..." and pointed behind him.  He turned to see a beautiful woman in
a slightly oversized blue Starfleet uniform, standing in front of an open
stasis cabinet.

The woman spoke: "Sorry, Mr. Muscles, but I've got business to attend to
on DS9.  Don't take this personally."

Before Martin could react, a fist flashed out and caught him on the side
of the head.  The big man dropped like a stone to the floor.

The woman dipped her finger into the overturned jelly mould: "Hmm. Cherry!
My favourite!"

****

Dr. Mac's vigorous choking was suddenly interrupted by a call from the
bridge from Lt. Weber.

* Cmdr. Duckman, someone has made an unauthorised launch of a shuttlecraft
from Shuttle Bay Two. *

"What!" Howard cried out, spewing scone crumbs everywhere, "Who is it?"
The Chief Engineer rose from his seat and strode to the door to the bridge.

"Sensors identify Nurse Eileen Ramroopsingh," the young lieutenant called,
as Duckman entered from the observation lounge.

"That doesn't <gakh> make any sense," rasped Dr. Mac, who had followed
Howard onto the bridge, "Eileen can't pilot a shuttlecraft!"

"The shuttle is headed for DS9, sir," Weber said.

"Hail the shuttlecraft." Howard commanded.

The interior of the shuttle appeared on-screen.  Both Howard and the
doctor gasped.  Lt. Emily Tarrant grinned back at them.

* Greetings, gentleman.  I hope you'll excuse my lack of manners.  I would
have said hello before departing, but I'm afraid I have some pressing
business to attend to at a certain tattoo shop on DS9. *

She cracked her knuckles menacingly.

* Don't bother trying to stop me.  I've overridden the Triple
Authorisation on the shuttles, I've disabled your tractor beam, and I
wouldn't recommend trying to follow me.  I don't appreciate people getting
in my way.  Ask Mr. Richer. *

The face disappeared.  "She's closed the channel, sir."

"She's going after Baldrick," Duckman blurted out, incredulous.  "Doesn't
she know he crews fer the Black Adder?"

"The question is, will she tear apart half of DS9 trying to find him?" the
doctor asked, ominously.

Duckman sighed.  "Weber, inform Starfleet command that their bloody killer
cyborg is on the loose.  Y'd better inform Sisko right away too.  And send
a message to the Black Adder; Baldrick might as well know he won't have a
tattoo shop t'come back to."  He strode toward the turbolift.  "Doctor,
M'Dok, Sol'tarr, you're wit' me.  Gail y've got the bridge, lassie. We'll
follow the good lieutenant in a shuttlecraft."

The doctor lagged behind to call up Dr. Scholl and tell him to get to
sickbay to attend to the injured there.  Then he rushed to the turbolift,
muttering under his breath about new padlocks for the stasis chambers...