by Aubrey a.k.a. Naomi Sisko
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She was perfect. What's that? No one's perfect, you say? Well, she was. I'm not kidding. And it annoyed the heck out of me.
I remember the first time I saw her. 5'9" and half my weight, she stole the spotlight from even the Captain on our little cruise through the Kintares Nebula. Well, we weren't supposed to be cruising through the nebula. We were supposed to be mapping some temporal anomaly caused by a delton radiation flux in a parallel universe, but she was so smart that the whole job took three hours. For the next few days our ship, the Tigris, turned into a loveboat for her and Lieutenant Caldley, the super-gorgeous pilot who manned helm during my shift at tactical.
Oh, me? I'm a nobody, an security ensign ranking just high enough to get bridge duty and just low enough to escape everyone's notice. I'm 5'5", average on all sides, though a teensy bit overweight, with dull, dishwater blond hair.
Her? You want to know more about her? *Sigh.* Well, she had blonde hair, too, only hers was blonde-with-an-"e". She served as temporary replacement for our science officer, who was killed in the line of duty during the Klingon-Gungan escapade. (Jar Jar somehow transported himself to the Klingon homeworld; don't ask me how. Or why.) Oh, and her name was Lieutenant Commander Alyssandra Dabine.
On to the story.
Well, after the "loveboat" came to harbor at Deep Space Seven, The Powers That Be decided that Lieutenant Commander Dabine made a perfect addition to our crew, so they sent us off on another mission: to explore strange new treaties between the Gungans and the Vulcans.
Alyssandra just raised an eyebrow and quirked her quiet smile, which meant she already knew what was going on. Well, she was able to make a flawless report, satisfying the behavioral scientists who were puzzled by this seemingly illogical alliance, but I guess she didn't know everything, because she was killed while tracking down temporal saboteurs a couple of days ago.
Lieutenant Caldley was devastated, having planned to propose the day of her funeral. I must admit, it was somewhat touching when he slipped the engagement ring on her finger just before they shot her off into space, but after awhile, the dozens of redundant speeches highlighting how she saved the galaxy from temporal oblivion started to grate on my nerves.
Looking back, I can't help but be jealous of her perfect life, perfect death, and perfect everything in-between, but I must admit, one good thing has come out of all this.
Lieutenant Caldley is available again.