Blackadder of Starfleet
Blackadder: Bureau of Starfleet Personnel
Blackadder: Bureau of Starfleet Personnel
(Credits)
(As names fade in and out across the bottom of the screen, a starship with the classic design of most Starfleet vessels appears in the distance and approaches swiftly. At closest point of approach, it turns back to the stars, and a small object falls from it. It screams down through the atmosphere. The camera turns and sees Commander Blackadder narrowly escape the crash of the cargo pod to the surface. He shakes a fist at the sky, and then kicks the pod. It falls open to reveal an object. Each episode has a different object, which is at least slightly relevant to the plot.)
(Title: Vulcans)
(Pod Contents: An IDIC symbol, broken in half)
(Blackadder enters a tavern, takes a seat at a table. From behind the bar, the waitress asks:)
WAITRESS: The usual, Commander?
BLACKADDER: Thanks, Polly.
(A Vulcan moves from the bar Blackadder's table)
R'OK: I am R'ok. May I be sharing your table, Commander?
(Blackadder's gaze sweeps the empty tables, empty bar seats. No one else is in the place)
BLACKADDER: Well, since it's so crowded in here, of course.
(Polly brings drinks over for the two. Leaning way over at the table, she is a buxom example of the classic Roddenberry standard of feminine beauty. Which means she's apparently one sneeze or one gravitational anomaly from being topless. Blackadder enjoys the scenery, then notices that R'ok is enjoying it, too. He waits until the waitress returns to the bar)
BLACKADDER: So, R'ok, what's a Romulan doing on Mars?
R'OK: Ahem. I am not knowing what you are saying, Commander. I am Vulcan. From Vulcan. Listen. That is illogical. Fascinating. A squared plus B squared equals C squared.
BLACKADDER: Listen, your neck may not have moved, but your eyes did everything but actually pop out and peel off Polly's blouse. A Vulcan doesn't show that much emotion during sex with his wife.
R'OK: Ha. That is, if I were Romulan, I am laughing derisively at your accusation. Logic is showing that the Romulan embassy is on Earth, so I am being a Vulcan.
BLACKADDER: Romulan logic is like Vulcan humor. Nonexistent and no point in pretending.
R'OK: (stands and draws a knife) YOU ROUND EARED SON OF THE WHORE! I CUT YOU!!
BLACKADDER: (Looks at the knife at his throat) Be sure to tell the investigating officers how you were driven to justifiable 'Vulcan' rage over an emotional insult. I'd love to see the looks on their faces. I wonder if a Vulcan might have the beat tonight?
R'OK: (recovers, sits) I guess it is no point in playing the fool. I am from Romulus.
BLACKADDER: So, are you here for the kite flying?
R'OK: I was unaware that Mars is having the atmosphere for-
BLACKADDER: Never mind. What do you want?
R'OK: You are the man choosing where to send Academy graduates in Starfleet?
BLACKADDER: I am the man.
R'OK: There are five students in the Academy whose names I am giving you. They must be assigned to the Enterprise.
BLACKADDER: The flagship of Starfleet? That won't be easy.
R'OK: These five are in the top 2% of their classes. Justifying their assignment is not being difficult.
BLACKADDER: And would these newly-commissioned cadets be 'Vulcans' as well?
R'OK: Now that you are mentioning it, I am believing they are.
BLACKADDER: You know, I suspect that placing these individuals in a sensitive position will not be a truly wonderful thing for the Enterprise.
R'OK: It is not being your concern, suspicious man. It is the appropriate reward for their laboring at the academy that they are being given the chance to shine at the most important starship in Starfleet.
BLACKADDER: But what if I still have concerns?
R'OK: You are being far more concerned about something else.
BLACKADDER: What would that be?
R'OK: There are many battle cries in our history, commander, and some that are in yours. They make the heart swell, the blood flow, the eyes squint… The fighter charges towards his foe, and the enemy cringe in fear.
BLACKADDER: Rudyard Kipling's dead and buried, so he won't need an apprentice. What's your point?
R'OK: Simply that I am speaking six words to bring you completely under my control, making you my errand boy in Starfleet Personnel Bureau.
BLACKADDER: And what magical words would those be? Perhaps "Romper, Stomper, Bomperoo, I remember Tippicanoe?"
R'OK: (Waves his hand, a Ferrengi appears, carrying a briefcase) "Commander Blackadder, this is your audit."
BLACKADDER: Okay, you might have me here.
FERRENGI: We know aaaaaaaall about you, Commander. How you could afford the trip to Risa, how you paid off the casino on Puul, how you donate money to the foster home that raised you…
R'OK: What? Why are we caring about this?
FERRENGI: Are you kidding? Charity? Shows a low moral character! If word of this gets out!
R'OK: But he works for STAR-FLEET! They are liking much about such things!
BLACKADDER: If it's all the same to you, I'd as soon keep that part quiet, too. I have a reputation to keep, you know.
R'OK: Right. So you are seeing that you are accomplishing what I ask of you.
BLACKADDER: I want a thousand strips of gold pressed latinum. Per cadet.
R'OK: But I am explaining that if you do not do this…
BLACKADDER: Yes, yes, if I refuse, you get me arrested. But that doesn't get your people on the Enterprise either, does it? Five thousand strips is a bargain and you know it.
R'OK: Yes. Yes, we are having a deal, Commander. (Puts a piece of paper on the table) I am paying you the latinum inside the day. (rises to leave) I am glad to be meeting you, Blackadder. I believe if fates had been different, you would have made a good Romulan.
BLACKADDER: No, unfortunately, my parents knew each other more than two days. I think they were even on a first-name basis.
R'OK: (spins and draws a knife) THIN-BLOODED EATER OF UNSAVORY MEATS! I CUT YOU!!
BLACKADDER: Seriously, what sort of training do you get to imitate Vulcans? Any instructors that have actually met a Vulcan?
(Blackadder's office)
BLACKADDER: Baldrick, an emotional Vulcan will be coming by later, with 5000 strips of gold-pressed latinum. Give him a receipt for it and deposit it in the usual places.
BALDRICK: What's a Vulcan with emotions he ain't supposed to have doing paying you money you ain't supposed to need in the current Federation Economy?
BLACKADDER: Baldrick, when I feel like answering one of your questions, I'll actually listen to one. Now. Where's that reader with the coming graduates of the Academy? Thank you. Usually, the Vulcans graduate with high honors but lousy grasp of the demands of leadership in the real world. So they're kept out of the command track until seasoned in the Fleet. Ah! Here we go.
BALDRICK: What have you found, sir?
BLACKADDER: Five Vulcan cadets with typically high scores in academic achievement, exceptionally high scores for initiative in mission accomplishment, and a 'welcome enthusiasm' in combat scenarios tasking for sheer bloody mindedness.
BALDRICK: Sir? Have they found some Vulcans that fit in with human command style?
BLACKADDER: Yes, they have, Chief, so life as we know it is over.
BALDRICK: Why, sir?
BLACKADDER: Vulcans are smarter than we are, stronger, longer lived, and their heritage is richer in philosophy and the arts. The only reason humans never went to war with them is that they have no humor and no discernable sex drive. Instead of being jealous of the smug bastards, it's like having an older brother who can never get laid. You end up pitying him in spite of his better job, bigger home and faster car.
BALDRICK: So if these Vulcan cadets are more human than humans we'll go to war?
BLACKADDER: It's inevitable. Or would be, except these human Vulcans are really Romulans.
BALDRICK: I didn't know Romulan humans went to the Academy, Commander?
BLACKADDER: Neither did anyone else. But… someone should have…
(An elderly vulcan woman in (civilian) robes enters)
P'OLTISS: Are you Commander Blackadder? In charge of implementing the transfers of personnel within Starfleet?
BLACKADDER: Probably. Unless you're here about the fry cook assigned to the vegan colony on Arrendus III. Then he's (points to Baldrick) Blackadder.
P'OLTISS: Humor-
P'OLTISS and BLACKADDER, together: -it is a difficult concept. (they stare at each other)
P'OLTISS and BLACKADDER, together: Why did you do that? (they stare at each other)
P'OLTISS and BLACKADDER, together: Is THIS a form of humor? (they stare at each other)
P'OLTISS: Ah. You make a point about the predictability of Vulcans. Well, Commander, I think you will discover, if you manage to overcome your prejudices, that we are not as predictable as you might think.
(Blackadder unfolds a large poster, which displays her exact words)
BLACKADDER: Sorry, something I can never resist. What can I do for you, Miss….
P'OLTISS: P'oltiss. I have the honor of being the Protocol and Cultural Aide to the Vulcan Ambassador on Earth. I have traveled here because I must speak with you on a matter of some import.
BLACKADDER: Well, if it's important enough for you to come to Mars, by all means, I hope I can help you.
P'OLTISS: There are five students in this year's graduating class of Starfleet's Academy that must, I stress, must be assigned to the Intrepid.
BLACKADDER: Must?
P'OLTISS: Five Vulcans in that class have come to my attention for… non-traditional demeanor.
BLACKADDER: You mean, non-Vulcan demeanor.
P'OLTISS: Yes, exactly.
BLACKADDER: What you really mean, is behavior that does not meet your definition of approved behavior for Vulcans.
P'OLTISS: Not MY definition, Commander, but that of the governing body of Vulcan. A definition created and approved with the full accord of all Vulcans able to take part in our society.
BLACKADDER: Yes, well, they wouldn't happen to be these (hands data reader over to P'oltiss) five Vulcans, would they?
P'OLTISS: In point of fact, they are indeed. Is this another attempt to show Vulcan predictability?
BLACKADDER: Not at all. These five are, in fact, already handpicked for assignment on the Starfleet flagship, the Enterprise.
P'OLTISS: Oh, that would be quite impossible.
BLACKADDER: Funny, it's quite possible. Vulcans are usually so much better at the human language than humans are. Did you perhaps mean something closer to 'intolerable?'
P'OLTISS: These students do not conform to Vulcan standards of behavior. They obviously have been contaminated by contact with human culture.
BLACKADDER: Contaminated by contact with humans? Really buttering me up for a favor, aren't you?
P'OLTISS: Since they refuse to resign their commissions, the only recourse is to surround them with properly behaved Vulcans and restore them to their proper balance.
BLACKADDER: Look, I'm sure you mean well, but believe me, the last thing anyone would want would be these five officers stationed with a ship full of Vulcans.
P'OLTISS: Are you going to send them to the Intrepid or not?
BLACKADDER: I believe, since you are not in my chain of command, and your only concerns for their posting come reasonably close to prejudism by human standards, the answer would be… 'or not.'
P'OLTISS: Have you ever experienced a Vulcan Summer, Commander?
BLACKADDER: Excuse me?
P'OLTISS: Out away from the shields and air controls of Starbase Ae'sanna. At our traditional capital, down in the Valley of Souls, humans seldom last more than a day without beginning conversations with people who are not visible to others.
BLACKADDER: Is this a threat?
P'OLTISS: I'm sure an accomplished bureaucrat such as yourself would have much to teach the officials of Vulcan government.
BLACKADDER: It is a threat. I didn't know you had it in you. Problem is, you don't have the authority to transfer me to a place that isn't a Starfleet base.
P'OLTISS: But Admiral Tower owes me a favor.
BLACKADDER: (sigh) You might have me, there. Dang, what a compromising day. Alright, I'll look into it. But it's not entirely in my hands, you know.
P'OLTISS: And at high noon, it is so hot, I once saw a human archeologist trying to lick water off the paintings in an ancient temple or ours…
BLACKADDER: Yes, yes, alright. I'll do my best.
(P'oltiss unfolds the fan she's been holding for the entire scene. Blackadder's last words are written across it. She leaves.)
BLACKADDER: Fascinating.
********
(Melchett's office:)
BLACKADDER: You wanted to see me, Admiral?
MELCHETT: Yes, sit down, Commander. I need a favor.
BLACKADDER: A relative of yours or a school chum is graduating and needs a decent posting?
MELCHETT: Um, no, well, sort of. Admiral Rasto, I crewed with him, his son's got a command. Heavy Cruiser out of Asimov Station. Dangerous area, that.
BLACKADDER: Yes, the background radiation there very nearly penetrates the navigational shields.
MELCHETT: And the pirates!
BLACKADDER: Pirates, sir?
MELCHETT: Well, they haven't been officially designated as pirates, but there is certainly a lot of unrest in the population.
BLACKADDER: If you count the viewership disappointment that interstellar radiation prevents the reception of 10% of the entertainment broadcasts normally available to Federation citizens, yes, sir. Quite a bit of unrest.
MELCHETT: Anyway, he needs some new crewmen, and I promised some exceptional graduates of the latest Academy class. Someone he can depend on. Useful from the start, without needing training or seasoning.
BLACKADDER: Well, sir…
MELCHETT: Yes?
BLACKADDER: It's a little unusual, but I suppose…
MELCHETT: Oh, get on with it , Edmund!
BLACKADDER: Well, there are five rather …exceptional… graduates that have come to my attention. High marks all around, including the sciences and tactical combat. But he wouldn't want any of them…
MELCHETT: Of course he would.
BLACKADDER: No, sir, really. It wouldn't be right.
MELCHETT: Right? What does right have to do with it?
BLACKADDER: Well, traditionally, the top percentage of the class goes to the Flagship.
MELCHETT: Yes, yes, traditionally. Nothing in writing, of course.
BLACKADDER: No, sir. But also, traditionally, the top percentage of the Vulcan graduates go to the Vulcan-crewed ship, the Intrepid-B.
MELCHETT: Of course, but we're not talking about Vulcans.
BLACKADDER: Actually, sir, we are. Five of them seem to have impressed Starfleet in areas not normally swollen with Vulcan officers.
MELCHETT: Really? Well, then, one of them should be ideal for Young Rasto. Make it so! (turns back to data reader on desk)
BLACKADDER: But Admiral… If the Enterprise and the Intrepid are both expecting the bulk of these individuals, how can I justify sending one to your friend's son's ship?
MELCHETT: Hmmm. Wouldn't look too sporting, would it, to show favoritism to a Cruiser while two the Sovereign ships go hang.
BLACKADDER: You know, Admiral… I've just had an idea. What if we decided that a policy of sending the top graduates to the same commands was being unfair to the rest of the fleet? That every command is important, and as deserving of recognition as any other. Otherwise, we're just toploading a few commands, and giving short shrift to the others.
MELCHETT: You know, Commander… I've just had an idea. What if we decided that a policy of sending the top graduates to the same commands was being unfair to the rest of the fleet? That every command is important, and as deserving of recognition as any other. Otherwise, we're just toploading a few commands, and giving short shrift to the others.
BLACKADDER: Wonderful idea, sir. So, we'll just set a limit of one Academy Top Runner per command per graduating class, eh? And 'randomly' distribute the rest across the fleet?
MELCHETT: Excellent. So the Enterprise and the Intrepid each get one, and so does Skippy.
BLACKADDER: Skippy, sir?
MELCHETT: Rasto's son. Used to skip everywhere he went. Draw up a memo, Blackadder, I'll sign it and we'll get right on that 'random' apportioning of personnel.
BLACKADDER: (offers data reader) If you could append your signature, sir?
MELCHETT: (signs without a flick of surprise) Wonderful work as always, Commander. Yes, Skippy. Skipped class, skipped appointments, skipped baths…
*********
(Blackadder's office: )
BLACKADDER: Baldrick, download this memo from Melchett and transmit it to all personnel in this command, copy to the personnel officer of all Starfleet commands.
BALDRICK: Yes, sir. And you were right, sir, that Vulcan Romulan was in.
BLACKADDER: How many times did he threaten your life?
BALDRICK: Seven. That's when I started to understand your suspicions with respect to his racial identity, sir.
BLACKADDER: Did he have the money?
BALDRICK: Yes, sir, he did. And I done what you said with it.
BLACKADDER: Good. Now, what command have we been using to dump the lame, sick and halt?
BALDRICK: The Inflict, sir.
BLACKADDER: Ah, right. Well, even I'm not cruel enough to give Captain Faith a vulcanized Romulan.
BALDRICK: I thought we were sending them to the Enterprise,sir?
BLACKADDER: Baldrick, what have I told you about using the verb 'think' in the first person singular?
*********
(In the hall outside Blackadder's office, R'ok and P'oltiss approach from opposite directions, meet at the door)
P'OLTISS: Oh, excuse me.
R'OK: No, please, my lady. You are excusing me in the stead.
(P'oltiss looks sharply at R'ok)
P'OLTISS: Where did you learn to speak Terran, sir?
R'OK: On Ro- ahem. From human transmissions I am teaching myself while my family traveled on astronomical researches.
P'OLTISS: (shakes head) Another one…
*******
(In Blackadder's office, P'oltiss and R'ok enter)
BLACKADDER: Well, well, well, it's the happy couple.
P'OLTISS: I am not subject to human exhibition of emotionality in the form of 'happiness,' commander, nor are we a couple. Please refrain from your typical expressions of humor.
BLACKADDER: Of course. How may I help the two of you?
P'OLTISS: I have no idea how you may help this gentleman. If it is something quick, you may deal with him before myself.
R'OK: Um, ah, no, really, it is most convenient for me to wait upon your business, my lady.
P'OLTISS: No, I am not in a hurry and expect to be here until my business is fully completed.
BLACKADDER: Actually, it's probably best if I deal with you, first, Protocol Aide P'oltiss. I believe that Mr. R'ok may remain.
P'OLTISS: Very well.
R'OK: Yes, much wellness.
BLACKADDER: You see, it's a recently implemented policy of Starfleet's that only one so-called 'hot runner' of the Academy graduates of any class can be assigned to any given command. So even if I were to accede to your request, your Aideness, I am limited in that only one of the five Vulcans in question can be sent to the Intrepid. Or to the Enterprise. Or any other command, whether you find it to be a fit command or not.
P'OLTISS: I see.
R'OK: Well I sure as space gas do NOT see! This is being the outrage!
P'OLTISS: (Turns to the emotional 'Vulcan') It is? An outrage?
R'OK: Um, well. What I am meaning is…
BLACKADDER: Forgive him, miss, Mr. R'ok is experimenting with the expression of human emotional outbursts. He has a theory that such behavior may make humans less uncomfortable around him. It should improve his interaction with humans and could, perhaps, be taught to others working in largely human environments.
R'OK: Brilliant! I mean, Exactly!
P'OLTISS: Hmmmm. But wouldn't an emotional outburst from a Vulcan make other Vulcan's uncomfortable?
BLACKADDER: I wouldn't imagine that a Vulcan would have such an emotional reaction to another's behavior, would they?
P'OLTISS: Oh, of course not. Very correct. Well, Commander, what are you going to do?
BLACKADDER: With respect, I have a few thousand graduates to commission and distribute across the Federation in Starfleet billets. I'm going to take a number of items of information into consideration, which would include your stated concerns for the welfare of five of those cadets AND standing policies and rules of BuPers, and match open billets to waiting bodies. In short, I'm going to do my job.
P'OLTISS: I suppose, Commander, you think I should be content with that. Perhaps I must be. But first I will learn more about this 'hot runner' policy. Good day sir, Mr. R'ok.
R'OK: It is indeed a good day, Miss. Lively prosper to you!
(she leaves)
R'OK: Excellent recovery, Commander. Have you ever considered undercover operations?
BLACKADDER: I did, but I was disqualified when I didn't get set back a grade in Kindergarten.
R'OK: HA! It is to laugh. I shrug off your insult and am seeing the humor between the lines.
BLACKADDER: Excellent. You're getting more Vulcanized every time I see you.
R'OK: Thank you, sir. Now. What are you doing about getting all five cadets to the Enterprise?
BLACKADDER: Not to worry, it'll just be a bit more difficult.
R'OK: I am telling you it is very important to me to be getting these men on this ship.
BLACKADDER: Yes, of course, and I'm doing my best. But, just in case, if I can only get two or three of them assigned, is it important which ones they are?
R'OK: Um… yes. One is there for the mission, cadet Sh'Rup. The others are helping him in this endeavor.
BLACKADDER: Right. So, if I can figure a way to get that one on the ship, any others I can swing will just be a bonus. Am I being right?
R'OK: You are being right. But how are you violating a standing order and getting more men on the same ship?
BLACKADDER: Oh, retroactive adjustments to one's grade point average, reevaluation of another's performance on a practical, various ways to remove them from the top of the graduation list, and put them down towards the middle. Then the ruling doesn't apply. Or maybe I'll just get a bunch of authority figures together and prove that they function much better as a team. Whatever. It'll sort out. Trust me.
R'OK: Commander, I am blackmailing you. (Ferrengi accountant appears, smiles, disappears) I am not trusting you to do anything but save your own skin.
BLACKADDER: Yes… so you see that I have an interest in keeping you happy.
R'OK: Yes.
BLACKADDER: So, you understand that I also have to keep the Protocol Aide happy, or as happy as a Vulcan will ever be, and I need to keep my superiors happy.
R'OK: Such is not being my concerns, as long as I am happy.
BLACKADDER: Ah. Well, anyway, I believe I have a plan to keep everyone satisfied, or at least think they are being satisfied by my efforts. Would you like to be there, to see how it goes?
R'OK: Of course I would. Where is this happening?
BLACKADDER: In two days, be at the Chekov Conference Room. Two levels down, you can't miss it.
R'OK: I am being there, Commander Blackadder, you sneaky person, you. Just be sure you are not being too sneaky now.
BLACKADDER: Wouldn't dream of it. But… well, this is going to be rather difficult on my part. The coordination, more people involved, more computer records altered…
R R'OK: How much?
BLACKADDER: Another 3000 strips for now, and an extra 2000 for each cadet I can get onto the Enterprise.
R'OK: We are having a deal, Commander. (They shake)
********
(Two days later: Checkov Conference Room. There is a wide table, where Blackadder sits. Behind him, P'oltiss, Melchett and two Starfleet officers sit at another table. The edges of the room are dark, while the center is lit from above. A door opens and five 'Vulcan' Ensigns march in and line up, facing Blackadder)
BLACKADDER: Gentlemen. Welcome to Mars. You're here because you've impressed a number of people. And it's in the best interests of Starfleet and the Federation to ensure that the billets you receive are the best for you, for Starfleet, and for our society. Do you understand?
(The five nod. Otherwise they are stiffly at attention.)
BLACKADDER: Very well. (refers to a data reader before him) You've all passed the standard tests to become Starfleet officers, so we, here, are interested in a more personal evaluation of your abilities. I'm going to ask some questions, get your answers. Now, these questions may not have a 'right' answer. So just answer as honestly as possible, and we'll get a better impression of what you're capable of. Alright? Now, Ensign Ch'olk, in a first contact scenario, what's the most important…
(Voice fades to a collage of scenes: closeups of the faces of Blackadder and the Ensigns talking, of the Aide, the Admiral and the Captains nodding or shaking their heads, with Blackadder's voice posing a number of questions, suggestions and scenarios. Finally:)
BLACKADDER: Alright. Now. Ensign Sh'Rup. What non-alliance interplanetary government is the greatest threat to the Federation.
SH'RUP: The KLINGONS, sir.
BLACKADDER: The Klingons are part of the Alliance, Ensign.
SH'RUP: Oh, yes sir. Then, I'd, well, uh…
BLACKADDER: Would it be the Romulans, Ensign?
SH'RUP: Oh, obviously, sir.
BLACKADDER: Obviously? What makes them the greatest threat?
SH'RUP: Their fleet is bigger than ours. And their crews are warriors first, explorers second. And they have a superior code of honor (Sh'Rup relaxes into his comparison between Romulan and Federation fleets), many times the battle experience, better weapons and (he's bragging, now) weapons discipline…
BLACKADDER: Sounds like you're rather fond of the Romulans, Ensign?
SH'RUP: Oh (shocked, guilty) NO, sir. Not at all, sir. They're the Enemy, sir.
BLACKADDER (gets up from the table, walks around it): The enemy, eh? And what do we do with an enemy?
SH'RUP: (Pause) We… coexist peacefully with them, sir.
BLACKADDER: Oh, come now. That's what you've been told to say. What do YOU want to do to The Enemy?
SH'RUP: (Pause) I, I don't know what you mean, sir?
BLACKADDER: (picks up a box from the table, opens it to show a sleek dagger, steely and shiny on black velvet.) Of course you do. What is your duty to the Federation with respect to enemies?
SH'RUP: (staring at the dagger) To conquer them, sir.
BLACKADDER: (raises voice) Conquer them?
SH'RUP: Defeat them. Beat them. (rising voice) Slay them. Eviscerate the nasty bastards and (takes the knite) CUT THEIR THROATS!
BLACKADDER: SO WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU SAW A ROMULAN, ENSIGN?
SH'RUP: KILL THEM! KILL THEM ALL!
BLACKADDER: WELL WHO IS THAT? (Points to corner where a spot light comes to life, illuminating R'ok, alone in the corner)
SH'RUP: A ROMULAN SPY, SIR!
BLACKADDER: AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT HIM!?!?!
SH'RUP: I CUT YOU! (Screams and charges across the room. Blackadder opens another box where four more knives rest on black velvet. The other Ensigns grab the knives and follow Sh'Rup)
(Close up on R'ok's face)
R'OK: Oh, bugger.
(View of the panel behind Blackadder's desk reacting with shock to whatever is happening in the corner. As the screams die down Blackadder addresses them from in front of the table)
BLACKADDER: As I suspected, they are not Vulcans, sirs, Ma'am. I believe they are, in fact, Romulans that somehow managed to enter the Academy. I suggest a full investigation. (He gestures, and doors open to admit Security Officers who round up the (green)bloody Ensigns.)
MELCHETT: But, but, Commander, they KILLED that man! That Vulcan!
BLACKADDER: Yes, sir. But he wasn't a Vulcan.
P'OLTISS: What?
BLACKADDER: I happen to know he was a Romulan. Most persons within the Federation, on seeing such an individual, would naturally identify him as a Vulcan. These Ensigns recognized him on sight as a Romulan, and a Romulan spy at that. That indicates, to me, that they were in contact with him. I think you'll find that he was their 'control.'
MELCHETT: And they were all Romulans?
BLACKADDER: Yes, sir. And they were very nearly well-placed Romulans.
MELCHETT: Excellent work, Commander.
P'OLTISS: Yes. Yes, excellent. We must see if there are any other such persons on the rolls.
BLACKADDER: I'd be happy to assist in that investigation, Ma'am. Pity that such work will be keeping me from visiting your capital.
P'OLTISS: (nods head to Blackadder) Yes. Yes, I can see that your place is here, Commander.
*******
(In another dark corner, Percy and Baldrick brace the Ferrengi)
PERCY: Now, the Commander was wondering if you were impressed by the demonstration?
FERRENGI: Impressed!?! That was HORRIBLE!
BALDRICK Yes, yes it was. You wanna see how those Vulcan Romulans feel about Ferrengi?
FERRENGI: No, no-no-no-need. (Touches a button on the briefcase. Smoke starts to issue from the casing) And no need for the Commander to trouble his head about anything, uh, incriminating. Nope.
PERCY: We'll just take this with us, thank you. (He takes the case and winks offscreen.)
*******
(Back at the table, Blackadder returns Percy's wink. Turns as Melchett and the Captains congratulate him on foiling a devious plot. The camera tracks down to his feet, where we see him kick a bag of gold pressed latinum under the table)
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