Aftermath "
By: CWO5 Peter Singer , Marine , [NPC]
Marp, Engineer, [RNPC]
Margaret Rose MacAlister , Marine CO, [RNPC]
Melissa Jarvis, Chief Security Officer, [RNPC]
Miranda, Lounge Manager, [RNPC]
Scott Taylor , Marine Tirtiary Officer , [NPC]
WO Al Beckett , Marine , [NPC]

Stardate: 58208.12 2100

==Miranda's==

Miranda looked at the mess in her bar. Several of the crew assigned to work the lounge had already started cleaning it up. She had not anticipated the destruction her equalizer would cause. She did after all set it on its lowest setting. Broken shards of glass and wood from the ornate doors were strewn about the room and the corridor outside.

Several security officers moved about the room talking to the people who were left. After she had blown the door off its mountings most of the people left, those that had not were now giving statements to the security. She knew it would be only a matter of time until they came to talk to her, however, for some reason they did not approach her other that to take possession of her weapon.

Miranda soon discovered just why no one was taking her statement when Melissa Jarvis entered through the shattered doors. She paused to survey the room for a moment and then glanced over at Miranda. One of her security officers approached her and handed Miranda's Thunderbolt to her. She double checked to make sure that the weapon had been properly deactivated.

Jarvis was a bit surprised, first of all, how in the world had Miranda managed to get this weapon onto the Zion? Second of all, she never would have expected it from Miranda. She walked over to Miranda, her face devoid of any smile.

"Hello," said Miranda absently rubbing her right shoulder. The little Ferengi who had smuggled it aboard for her did not bother to tell her about the kickback the Thunderbolt had.

"You've been busy," said Jarvis. "Would you mind telling me how you managed to get what amounts to a phaser cannon onboard my ship?

"Ah... Well...Do you remember that Ferengi who used to be in your department?"

Anger seethed inside Jarvis as she recalled the little rodent who used to be on her staff. "I should have known," Jarvis shook her head. "Miranda, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I needed to keep them from getting out of--"

"No!" Interrupted Jarvis slamming the phaser rifle down on the top of the bar which caused Miranda to jump ever so slightly, "That is my job. That might work for you in some backwater starbase but not on a Maquis Starship. You could have killed a lot of--"

"Now wait just a minute," said Miranda. "I hit exactly what I was aiming at."

"So you planned to blow the door to toothpicks then?"

"Well...I didn't think it would be that bad."

"You didn't? Haven't you ever fired this monster before today?"

"I had not needed it until now," she admitted.

"I'm keeping this weapon Miranda," declared Jarivs. "The next time you have trouble try calling security. This type of thing is what we are trained to do."

Miranda nodded. Jarvis was very upset with her and this bothered the Elorian. She considered Jarvis a friend and hoped that their friendship was not damaged by this. "I'm sorry Melissa," she said.

Jarvis turned and allowed her expression to soften a little, "I have to report this to the captain," she said. "He will probably want to talk to you about this."

Miranda nodded and watched as Jarvis walked as a rapid pace from the lounge.

***

== Ready Room - Marine Deck -- 2130 hours==

MacAlister strode into the Marine Ready Room where the Marines from Miranda's were assembled. She stopped just inside the doorway and placed her hands on her hips to stare at them. Her eyes roamed over each one in turn. She was NOT pleased.

Both Chords and Beck winced. Even if the other Marines hadn't, they'd both seen that look on her face before.

"I dinnae think it was possible." she began, placing her hands behind her back as she started a slow circuit of the conference table they were all sitting around. Several of the men were bruised or cut and a couple were even still bleeding. She either didn't notice or didn't seem to care.

"Uhh.. sir." Chords started to speak, being the senior ranking officer among the men who'd been at the lounge.

"Dinnae speak just yet, Chief Warrant Singer," Madge interrupted him with a softly spoken voice.

Beck sent Chords a sympathetic look when the Major addressed him by his rank. That was bad. That was real bad.

"An' dinnae think I've forgotten aboot ye, Warrant Beckett," she added, still slowly circling the table. Rather like a shark.

Taylor watched as Mac circled them. This was bad. He had seen the major upset before and this was one of those times that he hoped that his men would have the common sense to keep their mouths shut. As he waited for Mac to unload both barrels on them he cringed as he noticed Private Williams open his mouth to speak. Taylor tried to get his attention, he shook his head but Williams did not notice.

"But Major those fleeters..."

Taylor had hand picked WIlliams for his special forces team and he needed to take action quickly. Taylor pulled the sunglasses from his face, rushed up to young private and got right in his face, "I don't care what those limp dick fleeters did Private," snapped Taylor, his nose only centimeters from Williams'. "We are Marines, we are supposed to have discipline." He paused to take a breath; the muscles on his neck were taught and a vein on his forehead popped out, "Do you know what discipline is Marine?"

Williams swallowed hard, "Y...yes ell-tee Sir!"

"You better Private, because discipline will be the difference between you surviving your next mission and coming home in a body bag. Do you understand me Marine?"

Williams could not find the words to speak and simply nodded his head.

"I can't hear you", yelled Taylor.

"Yes Sir!"

Taylor shoved his glasses back onto his face and returned to his position behind Mac.

The Major had paused in her circling when Taylor stepped in to handle the Private's outburst. Mac kept a very strict Chain of Command in her unit and she not only knew Taylor was saving the Marine from her wrath, but approved of it. This wasn't the first time they'd been in this same kind of situation and Taylor knew that if the Major had corrected the Private, it would not have been pretty.

As soon as Taylor stepped back behind her, Mac continued on her circular route around the offenders, picking up where she'd left off just as if there hadn't been an interruption. "I dinnae think it was possible for ye lads tae *piss* me off, but the lot of ye proved me verra wrong." She stop long enough to look at each and every one of them. "You will come tae learn that I dinnae like tae be proven wrong." The timbre of her voice was rather ominous sounding.

"Do I, Chief Warrant Singer?"

"No, sir," Chords responded with a snap to his voice.

"Do I, Warrant Beckett?"

"No sir!" Beckett nearly shouted.

She continued her circle for nearly a full, tense minute when you could have heard a pin drop in the room. Then she stopped and rounded on them. She didn't shout like Taylor did. They were a more effective team if he did the shouting part and she did the deadly quiet, if you twitch you're going to die part.

"I have never been so disappointed in a group of Marines under my command as I am right now," she told them. "Ye have tainted not just yerselves, which ye bloody well have the right tae do, but every Marine in our unit, which is nae yer right. Do ye understand what that means?" It was a rhetorical question and after the scene between Taylor and Williams, no one opened their mouths.

"Ye bloody well better think aboot it long an' hard if each of ye want tae remain part of this unit." Her voice was low, the threat very clear. Then she straightened and went back to circling them. "Ye will go back tae the lounge. Tonight. And ye will each deliver a personal apology tae the owner. And ye will bloody well make damn sure that *As A Unit* ye help the woman put her place back in order."

She turned her back on them then and looked at Taylor. "Ye'll see tae it, Lieu-ten-ant," she instructed. "They'll have extra duty for a week, and the cost of the repairs will come out of their pay chits."

"Absolutly Sir," said Taylor snapping to attention and firing off a stiff salute. Turning on his heal he looked at his men, "Form up Marines," he shouted.

All of the marines scrambled to form a single file line.

"About face," he shouted.

The marines turned and now faced the door.

"Forward march."

In complete unison the marines moved towards the door.

"Double time Marines. This ain't a walk in the park."

The marines began running out the door and down the corridor.

When they were gone, Madge tapped her comm. badge. "MacAlister tae Campanili. Report tae my office in one hour, if ye please," she instructed.

"Not for an hour?" he responded. He knew why she was calling him.

"Ye dinnae want tae see me now, Captain. I need tae kill something first. One hour, if ye please."

"Yes sir." Campanili was very aware of her moods and her wrath.

***

==Miranda's - 2300 hours ==

Miranda sat in her quiet bar on board the state of the art war ship USS Zion and stared absently out the window looking out into space. An occasional shuttle or transport ship on it's way to QulTuq would occasionally fly across her viewing area. She ignored it. Engineering and operations had worked quickly to repair the door she had blown away but she decided to keep the lounge closed.

She was a little unhappy because she screwed up. She should have known better that to trust a Ferengi to get her a simple weapon. She hoped that it would not cost her her position on the Zion. More importantly, she hoped that Lieutenant Jarvis would forgive her mistake. In her short lifetime she had come to value friendship, because it would not be long and the friends she had now would be gone.

The newly repaired door opened and Marcus Campanili stepped inside the lounge, stopping to admire the handiwork. He'd heard brief descriptions of the shambles that had occurred after he'd left the bar. "It always amazes me just how quickly things can be set to rights on a Starship," he commented in that deep voice of his. He made his way over to Miranda and availed himself of the seat beside her. "You look... pensive."

"Crabby is a better word," she said.

"Crabby's a good word," Marcus nodded rather sagely. His voice was deep and even. Not monotone, but stable. "I like that word. Crabby. Mind if I join you?" he nodded to the bottle.

Miranda shrugged, "That is your bottle. Take it, it's yours."

"Indeed..." Marcus helped himself to a couple of glasses, and poured them each two fingers of the scotch. "Did Security want your head on a platter?"

"Let's just say that Lieutenant Jarvis is not very happy with me," she waved her hand at the drink. "No thanks. I can't stand scotch."

"Would you like me to get you something else?" he asked with a light quirk of his lips. "The Major's not very happy either," he told her. "But I'm willing to bet they'll both get over it... eventually."

"Your marines came back to help get this place cleaned up. The one named WIlliams mentioned that she was unhappy. So was Scott I guess."

"These things have a way of blowing over given the right amount of time," Campi told her, and took a sip of the scotch. "We're all worried this will reflect badly on the Marines. We fight an uphill battle when it comes to the way people perceive us," he smirked a little. "Scott will be alright." He looked over at her. She was a good looking woman, no doubt about it. He didn't blame Scott a bit for going after her.

"Scott was here too. He made sure the marines were deeply sorry for their part in all this," she observed. "He was pretty tough on his men."

"He has to be," Campi nodded and looked over at her. "We're Marines. Our lives depend on discipline and following orders the moment they're spoken. We have to be tough on our men and ourselves because we have to be equipped to handle the tougher situations we get ordered into."

"Where did you go?"

"Took the Cait to Sickbay," Marcus answered. "Seems she had an allergic reaction to something they gave her."

"I wish you would have taken your marines with you," she said with a slow sigh.

Marcus took another sip before answering. "Perhaps. But it was best if I didn't interfere. They need to learn how to discipline themselves in situations like that. Not have me acting as nursemaid.... I didn't think you'd really fire off that monster you were hanging onto when I left."

"I didn't think I had much choice. Things were out of hand." Miranda glanced at the new door, "I didn't think it was going to cause as much damage as it did."

"Never, ever, discharge a weapon unless you know what it's going to do," he said quietly. "But I'll get off my high horse because I doubt you need me up there at the moment." His lips quirked in another one of those almost-smiles and he took another sip of scotch. "And always remember one of the basic laws of physics; if you discharge a weapon on a starship, all the bells and whistles will go off and Security will descend on you like a swarm of locust." He actually smiled then. "Get a big knife, or a stun baton," he advised. "And then go after the lead dog. A good stun baton to the back of the knees or groin will get any rowdy sob's attention in a hot second."

"I do not need the lecture on weapon safety or self defense," she said, her level of annoyance starting to rise. "I am one hundred years old and have pretty extensive experience with personal firearms." She absently rubbed her still sore shoulder. "I just under-estimated this one. I also suspect it was not a personal weapon but more of a military one." She silently cursed the Ferengi who had sold it to her. "The stun baton is a good idea though. I might just try that one."

Marcus just quirked a brow in her direction and refrained from making any comments about her 'under-estimation'. Instead he nodded. "They're usually pretty effective," he commented. "I didn't get a good look at the weapon you had, so I can't say for sure, but judging by what some of the men said, I'd say that it being military issue was a safe bet. I won't even ask how you got it," that almost smile peeked out again.

"I set it to it's lowest setting and it just blew the door away," she observed. "That just doesn't seem right."

"Hmmm..." Marcus rubbed his chin a moment. "Could have been modified."

"It probably was. It will be too soon before I see another Ferengi again," she said. No sooner had she gotten the words out of her mouth, the new door slid open. Miranda turned to see who had just come in. Her mouth hung open in total disbelief.

Marcus turned to look just because of the look on Miranda's face. He Smirked, and rather than incur the wrath of a crabby woman, kept his laughter to him self.

Marp knew that something was not right. He looked around in surprise. The lounge totally empty except for two people sitting at a table. The Ferengi looked around in confusion and then said, "Umm...Hi."

Miranda glared at the Ferengi entering her bar. She knew it was not the same Ferengi who sold her the phaser but she didn't really care at the moment. "We're closed," said Miranda sternly. "Come back some other time."

Marp nervously shuffled his feet as he sort of half bowed, "Oh, ok." He turned and fled the lounge.

As soon as the door closed behind the Ferengi, Marcus let the deep chuckle he'd been containing break free. "I think you conjured him up," he said with a smile. "You probably couldn't do that again if you tried." He chuckled again because the timing on that had just been priceless.

"I hope it's not a omen," she said.

"Perhaps you've become prophetic." His lips quirked a bit at the teasing suggestion. "A result of firing a modified military weapon and killing your poor door." Now he was teasing, and he flashed her a rare grin.

"I'm going to turn in," said Miranda. "You can take the bottle with you." She got up, "Have a good night Captain."

Marcus downed the rest of the scotch and stood up. "Good nigh, ma'am," he smiled and bowed. "Sleep well." He grabbed the bottle of scotch and headed out, whistling a little tune as he did.