Prompt: Death by some unknown pathogen seemed preferable to death by an angry Maquis.
"It was a stupid mistake that could have injured someone," Billy complained as he poked at his dinner. As usual, Tal was given him a sympathetic ear. She was the only one on Voyager that still bothered. "I could have been injured and all because Gerron doesn't know what he's doing. Letting the Maquis onboard is hazardous to our health if you ask me."
"I can show you just how hazardous to your health it can be."
Billy froze at the sound of the angry voice behind him even as he watch Tal shrink down in her chair across the table from him. He wouldn't mind doing that himself, although he didn't think it would help him any.
"Umm...that didn't come out quite the way I meant it," Billy said, hoping to make the situation better. As he turned in his chair and looked up at the Maquis in a gold and black uniform he could tell it wasn't working. It also didn't help that the Maquis who had overheard him was Dalby, whom Billy had quickly learned was very protective of Gerron.
"Really?" Dalby countered. "Because it seemed kind of straight forward to me."
"Ahhh..." Billy stammered, not sure how to talk himself out of this situation. Before he even had a chance to think of anything else to say, the young crewman found himself being pulled up from the chair he was sitting in as Dalby grabbed a fistful of his uniform. Though they had attracted an audience by this time, nobody seemed to anxious to get involved.
Right about now, I wish I was laid up in sickbay with some life threatening disease, Billy thought as he was brought face to face with Dalby. It sure couldn't be any worse than being beaten to death and right about now Dalby looked like he was ready to kill.
"You Starfleet types think you're better because of your tidy uniforms and fancy ships, but put into the situations that the Maquis faced every day and I don't think any of you would have survived long."
"You're probably right," Billy agreed, his voice sounding more high pitched even to his ears. Surely agreeing with Dalby at this point couldn't make the situation any worse than it already was.
"If our situation was reversed, you think you could waltz onto our ship and not make a few mistakes?" Dalby asked, still gripping the front of Billy's uniform.
"Ah, probably not, sir," Billy replied, hoping the use of the term 'sir' might pacify the angry engineer. After all, though it was a field commission, Lt. Dalby did outrank him.
"Then perhaps instead of complaining about someone's mistakes you could offer some advice to avoid that mistake being made again."
"Yeah, I could probably do that," Billy replied. "In fact, I will do that," he amended.
Dalby finally let go of Billy's uniform and 'helped' the younger man find his seat. As Billy looked across the table at Tal, Dalby leaned down over the younger man's shoulder. Billy could feel the man's breath on his cheek as he spoke.
"And if I hear of you giving Gerron any trouble what so ever, I promise you that future trips to the doctor for things you may or may not even have, will be the least of your worries. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," Billy managed to get out, sitting rigidly in his seat.
He sighed in relief when he finally heard Dalby's retreating footsteps behind him.