Can't we try once not to kill the crew?

OOC-I would just like to start out by saying, "A million curses upon
Yahoo!" I sent a post earlier this week; and, as it can plainly be
seen, it never made it to the sight. So now I'll try and put Dirk
back into the middle of some action or another and see what happens.
RPG
Phil rushed into Dirk's office, "Did you see what happened to Saddam?!"
"Nope," Dirk said while drawing on the schematic board.
"Someone's stole him!"
"Uh-huh?"
"Saddam isn't the most reliable AI in existience! There's no telling
what damage he could do!"
"Yup."
"I think that new psychiatrist, Cerebrum, took him! I found this
piece of paper on the floor! We've got to get Saddam back before all
hell breaks loose!"
Dirk picked up the paper from off the board, turned to Phil, and said,
"So, what do you think?" The drawing was a copy of the old priceless
art piece of dogs playing pool; but, instead of playing pool, they
were working on a nuclear bomb. "Kind of puts things into
perspective, doesn't it?"
"Is now a bad time?" Phil, finally calming down, asked.
"I think the better question is, 'Is there ever a good time?' I'd
have to say, considering the evidence as of late, that the answer is
an absolute and definite 'no.'"
About ten minutes later the two men arrived at the meeting room,
which, as they had been informed, Cerebrum had turned into his office.
"Looks like someone had a party," Dirk said pointing the the crumbled
walls. Keto and Cerebrum stood out in the hall, cover with dust and
debris. So much dust and debris that the fact that Keto was supposed
to be invisible was totally missed by Phil and Dirk who just looked at
the dirt in the Keto shape.
"What happened here?" Phil shouted. Keto went into the explination
about how the cannon had begun to shoot wildly at anything that moved.
"And I think we have a winner!" Dirk announced holding up Cerebrum's
arm in the fashion of one who had just won a prize-fight. Inside the
room, the noise of the cannon charging up again whirred.
"That, I'm afraid, doesn't sound good," Cerebrum said once cognizant
of the sound.
Keto followed with a very Sulu like, "Oh my!" just before a large
blast took out a remaining section of the wall. The dust and debris
settled on the four men in the hall.
Dirk got up, looked at all the mess on his new clothes, and yelled,
"That's it! Now I'm really pissed off!" (In the U.S., pissed mean
really, really, really, angry; not really, really, really, drunk as it
does in the U.K.) He stormed into the room before anyone could stop him.
"I'd definitely have to say the he suffers from an obsession to die,"
Cerbrum diagnosed. The following moments held many sounds of blasts
from the cannon in several different locations within the room.
Suddenly, it stopped. The three men, thinking that the cannon had
finally caught up with Dirk hesitated for several moments before
peeking in. (Actually, they were fighting over who got to do the
'honors' before finally just pushing Keto in front of the open space.)
Inside, the doctor saw Dirk, Swiss Army Knife in hand, standing in
front of a pile of circuit boards and metal, presumeably the cannon.
"How did you ever get it to stop?" queried Cerebrum.
"I told Saddam that if he didn't stop, I'd releive myself on his
circuits." Dirk picked up a circuit board from the pile. "I'd have
to guess that this would be the mother board for the cannon."
Cerebrum nodded and tried to obtain it from the scientist. But Dirk
threw it on the ground and stomped on it, breaking it into several
pieces. "My work here is done." He began to walk back to his quarters.
"Aren't you going to help me get Saddam back to the Science Lab?" Phil
asked.
"Oh, you know I would; but I've got this bad back. Can't carry a damn
thing." He left.