In the Maquis


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Episode 49 — In the Maquis

     Voiceover (Majel Barrett Roddenberry): "We now join a
skirmish between a Cardassian supply ship and Maquis raiders
already in progress."
     A Maquis ship in close-up fills the screen, then darts away
to lay a spread of photon torpedoes across the hull of a much
larger Cardassian vessel.  Three other raiders loop around the
floundering Cardassian placing shots at various weak spots.  The
Cardassian rotates trying to bring its forward weapons array to
bear, finally managing to strike a Maquis and send it spinning. 
But too late.  Fire blossoms along the Cardassian's hull and in a
sudden upheaval the entire skin of its hold lifts away in an
eruption of flame.  The Maquis dash away in all directions as the
supply ship ripples and shreds into a million parts, the wave of
debris catching the slowest Maquis ship and causing its instant
destruction.  Hunks of wreckage tumble past the camera followed
closely by a shimmering cloud of particles which whites out the
screen.  Cut to one of the surviving Maquis ships coming about to
survey the disaster.  Cut to the cockpit.
     Tuvok: "As you surmised.  They were transporting a dangerous
pyrogenic emulsifier, and not the benign agricultural vermiculite
listed on their manifest."
     The commander looks up from a sensor readout, his tattooed
forehead gathered toward the wrinkle between his eyes.
     Chakotay: "A Pyrrhic victory.  One ship destroyed and
another disabled.  We'll have to beam the crew off our damaged
ship and destroy it ourselves.  In four minutes the Cardassian
reinforcements show up.  Let's get to it."
     B'Elanna Torres: "Moving into position.  Beaming survivors
aboard.  I'm triggering the pre-coded destruct command to induce
a warp core breach.  Ten seconds to warp core breach."
     Chatokay: "Full thrusters."
     Torres: "Eight, seven, six, five."
     A bright explosion blooms between the two fleeing Maquis
vessels.  Cut to rocking interior.
     Chatokay: "That worked better than expected."
     Torres: "It, it must have been damaged already."
     Chatokay: "Work it into your model."
     She looks away and makes a fist in exasperation.
     Chatokay: "Standard escape pattern."
     The two ships warp off on divergent courses.
     Tuvok: "Casualties notwithstanding, you must count this
mission as a success.  There can have been no good intent behind
that shipment."
     Chatokay: "All I have to do now is turn up the twenty tonnes
of vermiculite I promised that guy who sold me those photon
torpedoes."
     Tuvok: "When you are ready, I am prepared to review the crew
combat performance evaluations with you."
     Chatokay: "Already?  Very efficient.  I'll be interested to
see how we stack up against the Maoris."
     Cut to other Maquis ship.  A smoke-stained Ro Laren appears
around a corner in the Engineering section. 
     "I'm from the Indignant.  Have any of our wounded
materialized in here?"
     A crewmember points toward a group gathered around a body. 
Ro pushes forward to find several of the Maori Maquis crouched
around the prostrate form of Door Repair Guy.
     Ro: "That man wasn't injured when the beamout happened."
     The Maoris keep a straight face.
     Rupert: "That last jolt loosened a storage cupboard and a
spanner hit him in the head."
     Nigel: "Too true."
     She observes gleeful expressions break out on several faces.
     Ro: "Well, don't just stand there.  Take him to sickbay."
     Rupert: "Yes, Miss."
     Rupert and Nigel each grab a fistful of orange overall at
DRG's shoulder and drag him away, our last sight of him being the
soles of his workboots disappearing around the corner.


     "Crawlspace.  The final frontier.  These are the voyages of
The Door Repair Guy.  His mission: to install and maintain
proximity-activated entranceways, to stake out new rooms and new
service conduits -- to boldly go where no one with a pass key has
gone before."

     A pair of Maquis raiders shoot by hotly pursued by a
Miranda-class Federation starship.


                    Star Trek: Door Repair Guy


                              Starring 

                         Door Repair Guy as
                              Himself
 
     The two Maquis shoot past in the other direction now with a
Cardassian Galor-class warship on their tail.

                         Also Starring

                         Michelle Forbes as
                              Ro

                         Martha Hackett as
                              T'Rul
                                &
                              Seska

                         Robert Beltran as
                              Chakotay

                         Tim Russ as 
                              Tuvok

                         Roxann Biggs-Dawson as
                              Torres

     The Federation and Cardassian ships nearly pile up chasing
Maquis ships into the middle of the screen.  The Maquis loop
around and shoot off, one of them coming right past the camera
and leaving behind a glimmering ion trail which fades to:


[Commercial: Bank of Montreal
     Black and white handheld video shot of average Canadian
writing on a cue card with black magic marker.  Average Canadian
holds up cue card.
     Message: I'M BANKING BY INTERNET.
     Black and white handheld video shot of bank teller tapping
tentatively at computer keyboard then putting hand over mouth and
gesturing anxiously to other tellers who cluster round and put
their hands over their mouths.]


     A cavern set.  Using two dozen pressed aluminum containers,
some netting, several lengths of flexible hose and a small number
of reinforced metal supports left over from the third season of
Star Trek: The Next Generation the props department has created
the impression of a Maquis hideaway.  Eight extras dressed in
recycled and mismatched uniforms hurry about on various important
chores, mostly involving weapons.  The camera moves in on a
Maquis with bare muscular tattooed arms seated sharpening a huge
bowie knife.  He pauses and takes a long drag on a cigarette.  Ro
Laren enters the cave, looks around, then approaches the smoker.
     "Have you seen that Door Repair Guy?"
     The smoker sheathes the blade, takes the cigarette out of
his mouth, and points with it toward a side cave.
     "Getting his tattoo."
     She heads off in that direction.  We watch her enter the
side cave.  From inside the side cave we see her come in, stop
short and look the other way in annoyance.  In the foreground is
the out-of-focus contour of DRG's bare butt.  The tattoo artist
sits back with the needle in one hand.
     Artist: "What?"
     Ro: "Do you have to do that there?"
     "It's a big tattoo."
     "I mean: Isn't there a more private room?"
     "Look, this is the Maquis.  If you don't like it, quit."
     She looks like she's heard that line before.
     DRG cranes over his shoulder.
     "Is it done?"
     The artist holds up a mirror.  We see a rendering of an
exploding Cardassian ship and the caption "8.47325 ETADRATS 90512
ROTCES FO ELTTAB EHT TA NOITCA NI DEDNUOW".
     DRG: "Hey, it's backwards."
     "It's a mirror."
     "Oh.  Right."
     Ro: "That will take some explaining if the Cardassians ever
capture and interrogate you."
     "They won't catch me."
     She looks like she's heard that line before too.
     "Come on.  Get your pants on.  There's a performance review
committee."
     DRG stands and zips up.
     Tattooist: "You just show the committee that tattoo.  It's
the closest thing you'll get to a medal in this army."
     Ro: "Oh?  Since when?"
     Tattooist: "Since we tattooists said so.  Wait a minute til
I tell you something.  There is no respect left for the epidermal
artist in Federation society.  That's why so many of us have come
to the borderland.  Only among free people like the Maquis is the
art of the tattoo valued adequately.  It's artists like me, not
performance review committees, who create Maquis culture.  And
that's what we're fighting for, isn't it?  Culture."
     DRG: "He's got a point there."  He pauses for effect, then
prods Ro with his elbow.
     "Yes.  I got it.  Come on.  We've got a war to fight.  This
man can stay here and tattoo a chip on his shoulder for all I
care."
     She exits.  DRG follows, grinning, pointing to his behind
and giving a thumbs up on the way out.  The tattooist walks away
shaking his head, pauses, lights up a cigarette, and then picks
up the mirror, undoes his shirt and examines his own already
partially illustrated shoulder.
     "Hm."


[Commercial: Bank of Montreal
     B&W handheld video shot of average Canadian writing on cue
card with magic marker.
     Message: I'M LEARNING TO READ AND WRITE.
     Average Canadian turns over cue card to display message on
the other side: BUT WHAT THAT HAS TO DO WITH BANKING I DONT NO.]


     Tuvok: "Ad hoc performance review committee is now in
session.  Executive members Chatokay, Queen Victoria, and Ro
attending.  Acting secretary Tuvok.  Shall I read the minutes of
the last meeting?"
     Chatokay: "Dispense with them."
     Ro: "I second that."
     Tuvok: "First order of business: performance review and
reassignment of crewmembers who participated in the recent action
in Sector 21509 aboard the destroyed Maquis vessel Indignant. 
For the record, the master and first officer of the Indignant
having been killed in the last action, the ad hoc committee
assumes all responsibilty for any outstanding business relating
to the Indignant.  Are there any preliminary remarks?"
     Queen Victoria (sitting back with brawny arms folded): "Get
on with it.  I have a cargo of filter tips to deliver."
     Chatokay: "Second."
     Tuvok: "Very well.  We shall proceed to interviews.  Please
admit Ms Seska." 
     An eyepatch-wearing Dennis Madalone activates the door and
beckons toward the antechamber.  Seska enters, steely eyes
working the room.  She exchanges hard looks with the female
committee members, then lets her gaze linger on Chakotay until he
shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
     Tuvok: "Please be seated, Ms Seska."
     Chatokay: "Seska.  It was your information that allowed us
to ambush that ship.  How did you obtain it?"
     "I won't lie to you.  I seduced a Cardassian Glin."
     Chatokay glances at a disapproving Ro.
     "That must have been unpleasant for a Bajoran such as you."
     "It wasn't the first time.  Intimacy is a powerful tool. 
Most people use it as a party favour, but it can be so much more
. . . effective.  I offer it to you" -- staring and smiling at
Chakotay -- "for your arsenal."
     Chatokay: "Hm.  I do have a gender imbalance onboard my
ship.  But you have first pick" -- deferring to Queen Victoria.
     The Maori leader inhales through impressive nostrils, and
looks the Bajoran up and down.
     "Have her.  But I get first call on the next two."
     Chatokay: "Agreed."  He extends his hand to Seska.  "Welcome
aboard."
     She takes his hand, smiling, and departs the room.
     He watches the closed door, thinking, then blinks and says,
"Who's next, Tuvok?"
     "Murdoch, a half-Benzite, half-Scottish engineer; previously
served aboard the Enterprise; professes a deep antipathy toward
all things Cardassian."
     "Show him in."
     Murdoch enters and takes a seat in front of the panel.
     Chatokay: "You were on board the Indignant.  We'd like you
to describe the situation in engineering during the attack on the
Cardassian freighter."
     "Och.  Indignant was a bonnie ship, with a fine, fine crew
who invariably performed their duties with the utmost punctuality
and attention to detail."
     "The loss of Indignant was certainly unfortunate.  Would you
say, based on your observations, that it was unavoidable?"
     "Aye.  It was plain dirty bad luck.  Had that Cardassian not
trained her weapons array on our secondary antimatter injector
I'm confident we would have blown her to Kingdom Come even sooner
than we did."
     "A Benzite has no obvious stake in the Cardassian border
war.  Furthermore, you had a promising career ahead of you in
Starfleet, not to mention the privilege of serving aboard the
flagship.  Why did you give up all that for a life in the
Maquis?"
     He bows his head and gasps: "They killed ma wee dog Jockie,
the Cardassian bastards!"
     The committee exchange looks as the Benzite's shoulders
heave and shake.
     Chatokay: "There, there, um, Mr Murdoch.  We each have our
demons.  Queen Victoria?  Do you have any remarks?"
     "He's yours."
     "Very well.  Welcome aboard Mr Murdoch."
     "Aye."  Sniff.
     "Next."
     Tuvok: "Next is Chell, a Bolian."
     "Show him in."
     Chell (entering): "Hey, you're Dennis Madalone."
     Madalone snaps out of a reverie, looks panicked as he tries
to remember his line, annoyed as he realizes he doesn't have one,
then more annoyed as he realizes he never has one.  He gestures
brusquely toward the chair.  Chell walks over, sits, and looks at
Madalone.
     Chatokay: "Mr Chell."
     Chell: "I don't think he's in any position to look at me
like that.  Have you tried combing that?"
     Ro: "Never mind about him.  Tell us about your work aboard
the Indignant."
     "I'm the scalp consultant."
     "Scalp consultant?"
     "Barber, if you prefer."
     Tuvok: "Isn't it true that ninety percent of all male
Bolians are genetically incapable of cranial hair growth?"
     "Go on.  Rub it in.  I do!"
     Ro: "Are we to understand then that you specialize in
aromatic head massage?"
     "That's right."
     "Any other skills?"
     "People skills."
     "Commendable.  Any other skills?"
     "Sensors.  Build 'em, take 'em apart, service 'em."
     Chatokay: "I could use a sensor expert, but it's your pick."
     Queen Victoria: "He's yours for a plasma distribution
manifold."
     "Done."
     Chell: "Traded for a plasma distribution manifold!" 
     Chell is shown out.
     Tuvok: "Next we have a Mr Suter.  It should be noted that Mr
Suter once shot a man on Donatu V just to watch him die."
     Chatokay: "Is this true?"
     Suter (sitting): "Yes."
     Victoria: "We need men like you in the Maquis.  However, I
know for a fact there on men on my ship who are sworn to kill
you, so go with Chatokay."
     Chatokay: "Thank you.  Welcome aboard, Mr Suter."
     Suter rises, eyes sparkling, and leaves the room.
     Queen Victoria: "Hurry on."
     Tuvok: "Next we have T'Rul, a Vulcan."
     T'Rul enters and sits.
     Chatokay: "Have we met?"
     T'Rul: "We have not."
     Chatokay: "Strange.  I have just experienced deja vu."
     Ro: "Me too.  I can't put my finger on it."
     T'Rul (concerned about her cover): "It is highly unlikely
that we have met.  I assure you I have no memory of it."
     Ro: "Strange we'd both think we had."
     "Perhaps you were influenced by his body language."
     Ro: "It doesn't seem that way to me."
     T'Rul: "Well . . . there must be a logical explanation!"
     Eyebrows come up.
     Tuvok (clearing his throat): "Tell me, Ms T'Rul, were your
parents Sybokians?"
     (Regaining her balance): "Perceptive."
     "But I would infer that you are not a Sybokian."
     "I am not."
     Tuvok (to the others): "Ms T'Rul displayed a classic post-
Sybokian response.  Put briefly, it is difficult to overcome
one's earliest childhood training.  Although she rejects her
parents' happiness as a way of life, the pattern of learned
emotional response remains.  She is, in a word, cranky."
     Chatokay: "So you joined the Maquis as a way of escaping
both your parents and a disapproving Vulcan society at large."
     Queen Victoria: "You'll find plenty of irritated people on
Chatokay's ship."
     Chatokay: "Aren't you going to take anyone?"
     Queen Victoria: "We'll see."
     Chatokay: "Welcome aboard, Ms T'Rul."
     She leaves.
     Ro: "I still say I've seen her somewhere before."
     Tuvok: "Who's next, Tuvok?"
     "One Door Repair Guy.  I would assume he is a door
technician of some kind, perhaps an independent contractor."
     "I need a smoke break."
     "Second.
     "Very well.  All in favour . . ."
     "Oh, just come on."
     They go out and smoke.


[Commercial: Bank of Montreal
     Average Canadian: I'M IN LOVE WITH MY BANK OF MONTREAL 1-800
CUSTOMER SERVICE REPRESENTATIVE.]
     Bank teller with cue card: I LOVE YOU TOO.]


     Dennis Madalone comes into the antechamber and peers at the
benches of waiting Indignants.
     "Where is Door Repair Guy?"
     The Maquis point toward the head.  Cut to cubicle shot of
DRG seated on the convenience and flipping through a Field and
Stream.  A violent pounding disturbs his peace and sends the
magazine flying.
     "Occupied!"
     "Come out!  You're beckoned."
     "Oh, I'm beckoned.  Why didn't you say so?"
     Cut to DRG being led before the committee.  He sits,
grimacing.
     Chatokay: "Problem?"
     DRG: "Not as comfortable as the last seat I sat on.  You
see, I have this tattoo . . ."
     Chatokay and Queen Victoria both lean forward, he with his
tattooed forehead, she with spiralled cheekbones.
     Queen Victoria: "You have a problem with tattooes?"
     DRG: "Well, frankly, I'm finding them a pain in the--"
     Ro: "Cut the cracks, please.  While the other two committee
members were out having a butt I took the opportunity to review
this man's application.  I have some questions.  You claim to be
a Bajoran saint."
     DRG: "Has it been a while since you wrote home?"
     Tuvok: "While you were on special assignment he discovered
an Orb and then nearly became Kai."
     Look of open-mouthed disbelief.
     Chatokay: "I'm curious about this item listed under Job
Skills: brain surgeon."
     "Yes."
     "Yes?  Is that all?"
     "I learned to install brains on Sigma Draconis VI."
     "I see.  And how about this?  Guardian of Forever."
     "I worked on that."
     "The Federation's alleged super-secret time portal?"
     "Sure."
     "This is utterly fantastical.  I've met barefaced liars in
my time, but--"
     Queen Victoria: "Choose your words carefully.  We consider
him a very worthy candidate, and a wizard at fern warfare."
     "You will take him then?"
     "I will."
     DRG (turning aside and making a fist): "Damn."
     Queen Victoria: "Welcome to the Humuhumunukunukuapua'a."
     DRG: "Humuhumunukunukuapua'a?"
     "Dead on."
     "Swell."
     A hand falls on either shoulder.  He looks up to see Rupert
and Nigel, each bearing a ceremonial war-club, and smiling.
     "Ready for your initiation?"
     Gulp.


[Commercial: Bank of Montreal
     Mary Walsh holds up cue card:
     I THOUGHT UP THIS SCHTICK FIRST.]


     A conference room at Paramount Studios.  The camera moves in
on Gul Berman who is holding a computer pad.
     Berman: "Ratings are down."
     The camera slides to Gul Piller.
     "I wish we hadn't blown up the Enterprise.  We should have
gone for Season Eight."
     The camera moves on to Gul Taylor.
     "We need to bring someone back."
     "But who?"
     "Worf's taken."
     "What about Beverley?"
     "She says she's making more at Gargoyles than she ever did
from us."
     "This is why we didn't do Season Eight.  Surely there's
someone who won't cost an arm and a leg."
     Shot of all three flipping through _The Star Trek
Encyclopedia_.
     "Dr Roger Korby?"
     "Dead."
     "Apollo?"
     "Gone to Greek god heaven."
     "The guy who was married to the Salt Vampire -- what was his
name?"
     The door slides open and Brannon Braga looks in.
     "The cafeteria's on fire."
     Berman: "Damn.  If it isn't one thing it's another.  You two
work this out.  Give me that fire extinguisher."
     They leave.
     Piller: "Are we sure that was the last Salt Vampire?"
     Taylor: "I'll put Research on it."


[Commercial: Bank of Montreal
     Bob Dylan holds up cue card:
     READ THE PARKING METERS.]


     Two vessels lie side-by-side in an asteroid belt: the Maori
rebel ship Humuhumunukunukuapua'a and a nondescript freighter. 
Cut to the bridge of the Humuhumunukunukuapua'a.  The Maori
commander Queen Victoria is speaking to the viewscreen.
     "There you go.  Twenty gross of self-sealing stem bolts as
promised.  Transport the quantum torpedoes."
     The Yridian on the screen gestures with long fingers toward
a readout on his console.
     *Transport complete.  I trust we may do business again.*
     "No worry.  You know where to knock us up."
     *. . . Yes.*
     The two ships separate.
     Ro Laren (from pilot's chair): "He seemed awfully eager to
be taken.  There's no way twenty gross of self-sealing stem bolts
are worth four quantum torpedoes.  Are you sure you trust him?"
     Queen Victoria: "Scan the torpedoes."
     Ro: "Three of them are empty shell casings.  The fourth one
is armed and active!"
     Queen Victoria: "Beam it overboard."
     View of a tremendous explosion just off the starboard side
of the Maquis ship.
     Cut to the Yridian bridge.  One Yridian approaches the
other.
     "It is fortunate the Cardassians are paying so well.  These
self-sealing stem bolts have very limited application."
     "I agree.  How do they even work?"
     "I do not know.  Perhaps you depress the two stems."
     He does so.  View of Yridian ship blowing to smithereens.
     Shot of Queen Victoria observing the explosion.
     "I am amused.  Set course for the Badlands."
     The Maquis ship dodges off between the asteroids.


[Commercial: Bank of Montreal
     Douglas McLeod on street corner holds up cue card bearing
the message: THIS IS MY COLLATERAL ----->.  In his left hand
beside the arrow is the diskette containing the complete Door
Repair Guy series.
     Bank Manager holds up cue card in bank window: IN YOUR
DREAMS.]


     A Maquis saloon somewhere in the Badlands.  DRG enters, goes
to the bar, buys a bag of chips, then wanders over in the
direction of the camera and stands there looking around
cluelessly.  He has acquired facial tattooes since we last saw
him.  On both cheekbones are tattooed antique nautical scenes of
the sort scrimshawed by nineteenth century whalers.  On one cheek
a blue whale overturns a whaling boat.  On the other an enormous
squid does similar damage.  A black-clad figure brushes past him.
     "Huh?"
     The Borg hisses and wheezes up a couple of steps onto the
small stage in the corner of the room.  DRG follows.
     "Hey.  You're a Borg."
     The Borg turns and surveys him from behind dark sunglasses.
     "Yeah, that's right, daddy-o."
     "Are you from Cauda Linea."
     "We all got pay our dues."
     "What brings you here?"
     The Borg looks around the room with a whirring sound. 
     "It's a gig."
     By now other Borg are gathering on the stage.
     "You're the band?"
     The Borg picks up a trumpet and begins to play a riff which
he repeats over and over.  The other bandmembers pick up their
instruments and join in the same riff.  DRG stands there and
waits for the change to come around.  It never does.
     "Hey!"
     The band stops.
     "What kind of music is that?  Where's the melody?  Where's
the dance beat?"
     Borg: "Melody is irrelevant.  Dance beat is irrelevant.  We
play le jazz cool."
     "What's your name?"
     "We're the Kilometres Davis Collective.  Babe."
     "I see.  Cool."
     They dive back into the riff and he goes and sits in a
booth.  He eats the chips, then goes for some pretzels, heads
back to the booth and sits there listening to the band while he
eats the pretzels.  Subcommander T'Rul slides in opposite him.
     DRG: "Hey!  I remember you!  What are you doing here?"
     T'Rul: "Look under the table."
     He looks.  She has a disruptor trained on him.
     "What's the deal?  You're a Romulan, not a Maquis."
     "Shut up and listen.  They think I'm a Vulcan.  And I expect
you to keep up the pretence."
     "You're doing spy stuff for the Romulans!"
     "Obviously.  And you're going to help me."
     "Look, I know we dated, but --"
     "I'm pregnant with your child."
     "Huh?  How much went on while I was passed out?"
     "A lot.  I collected a tissue sample which our labs made
compatable with my DNA.  I was artificially inseminated and now
I'm two months pregnant."
     "Wow.  A boy or a girl?"
     "Twins."
     "Man oh man.  I gotta think about this."
     He goes to the bar and comes back with a bag of Bits N
Bites.  He opens the bag and holds it out to her.
     "Bah!"
     He eats and thinks.
     "Well, I'll do the right thing, but forget about the spy
stuff."
     She leans forward.  "You misunderstand me.  The children are
hostages.  If you don't help me I'll terminate them."
     "You will?  Wow.  Heavy."
     He gets up, goes to the bar, then returns.
     "Two months pregnant, you said?"
     "Must I repeat everything?"
     "I was just wondering if you'd like a pickled egg."
     She takes one look at the glistening orbs in his hand and
barfs.
     He dashes out the door and ducks into a nearby warehouse. 
We see him disappear through a maze of containers.  He comes to a
hiding place, leans against a crate, catches his breath and
listens.  Hearing nothing he goes to eat one of the pickled eggs,
changes his mind and puts it in his pocket, takes out a bag of
salt peanuts and tears it open with his teeth.  He says:
     "I should've stayed home and married the girlfriend."
     There's a sound and he goes on alert.  Official Botanist
walks out into the open.
     "Yes, let's get married."
     "You joined the Maquis?"
     "Only because you did."
     "What a day."
     She comes over and snuggles up against him.
     "Are those salted peanuts spoken for?"
     "No.  Help yourself."
     Gulp.
     "Your breath is very salty too."
     She grabs his face in her hands, pulls it down to her, and
gives him a huge open-mouthed kiss.  His eyes bulge, and then
bulge even more as she transmogrifies into a Salt Vampire.  He
feels the suckers pressing on his skin.  Close-up.  
     We hear disruptor fire.  The Salt Vampire lurches and
staggers away from DRG.  He watches in horror as the creature
takes a second shot and falls to one knee.
     Salt Vampire: "Pretzels . . . peanuts . . . !"
     Subcommander T'Rul steps up and vapourizes the creature at
point-blank range.
     T'Rul (wiping her chin with the back of her hand): "You
really owe me."
     DRG (staring in shock and absentmindedly rolling the pickled
egg in his hand): "You're right.  I do."
     "So I can count on you?"
     (Still deep in his own thoughts and holding the egg up to
his mouth): "Mmm."
     T'Rul (watching the egg with sweat breaking out on her
brow): "Good."
     Close-up of her eyes.
     Close-up of his mouth.


                    Executive Producers

          Gul            Gul            Gul
          Berman         Piller         Taylor    


     (Sound effect):
     Gulp.
     "Brrrreeerrrrrrrghhhh!!!"


------------
Written by Douglas A. McLeod, ai919@freenet.carleton.ca
------------

Episode 49 — In the Maquis

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