From: Gershon 
Date: Wed, 5 Mar 1997 14:37:56 -0500
Subject: USS CHESAPEAKE:  The Electric Ensign and the Delicious Dinner

Counselor's Office
MD: 1.1830
"Don't worry, Mr. Abromowitz.  Just stay there."
"Uh...okay!"  
She had done this before.  Stavay ran her fingers through Heidi's hair,
looking through the input port and eventually finding it five centimeters
above the left ear.  She wrote "5cm above L ear" and with a quick motion,
inserted the cable in.
After keying in the reader, Stavay let her eyes wonder.  Blonde hair.
Blue eyes.  That throaty voice, almost like a cartoon.  And that uniform!
Goddess!  A zipjack suit revealed less...even unzipped.
Unfortunately, she was turned on.  Images of beautiful women played through
Stavay's brain at inappropriate times, and Stavay, now a woman, found
herself taking a lot of cold showers.   
It's time to think about a different set of equipment, Stavay reminded herself.
The screen display revealed everything to the informed observer, very important
facts about the person with the cable in her head, ENS Heidi Abramowitz.
                BRAINWORKS:  A Medical Process Program
                v.7.2.3.      Memory Alpha
                Lost MemCap:   82 percent
A small map revealed what was *not* artificial.  The brain stem was completely
intact, and only fragments of the rest of the brain.  Everything else was
a memory implant.  The skull, the blonde hair, those beautiful blue eyes,
those dimples and ivory teeth -- all created out of some clone bank in
Topeka, Kansas.  
There were two sources of blame:  the Borg, for destroying the colony 
world of Majestus II (and most of Heidi's skull), and
the forefathers of Majestus II, who did not believe in euthanasia.
Without her BRAINWORKS, her cybernetic brain implants, Heidi would be
a vegetable.  One couldn't complain to Heidi's family:  Majestus II had
been stripped of its life, and Heidi's records, and her family's records.
Heidi was only one of 15 survivors of Majestus II, and since the Federation
always observed local customs...Heidi was kept alive, somewhat distorted,
but alive.
Frankly, there was nothing left of the old Heidi in that pretty head.  Just
a mass of cybernetic implants wrapped around the brain stem and remaining
brain.  
It was time to decide how much of Heidi was in Heidi.  She keyed up the
program "traits and values" on the reader:
        traits and values:
                nymphomania (P36889)
                deference to males (P37553)
                greed  (P 56640)
                malapropism  (P 03349)
                shallow thinking (P62935)
                        -- end :  see complete list
                                  add:  yes/no?
Huh?  It explained Heidi's dress, and her disengaged charm.  She had the
personality of an...what was the word she learned, in Standard?  She was
an "airhead".  
Some oversexed medical programmer must have keyed the first two personality
traits...obviously, with one hand.  The poor ensign was little more than
a walking cariacture, a pseudo-female.  Keying out the first three traits
and replacing them with something else would make a more suitable Heidi.
Stavay looked up some better traits -- " love of nature."  "Moral code."  "Sense
of strength."  "Aggression."  "Highly merciful."  "Love of Knowledge."  The
numbers were there; Heidi would be a completely different person with a few
taps of a PADD.
Unfortunately, a little question tagged at Stavay's conscious mind for
attention.  Stavay swatted it away, but it kept returning and finally, Stavay
asked it.  "Heidi...are you happy?"
"Uh...sure I am!  I just *love* being in LCDR th'Tellan's office!  The work
I do is so interesting!!  And the guys are so good-looking!  I wonder if 
they like me...but, I mean, what else could a girl dream of?  I get to
handle important papers, and stuff like that!!  It's my dream of 'nebraska'!"
"I think you mean, 'nirvana'.  And you know about the accident?  And the
fact that you have a personality that largely comes from brain implants?"
"Sure I do!  I'm not stupid!", Heidi replied, pouting.  As Stavay pondered
the truth of that, Heidi continued.  "Why, sometimes, I'm sad though.  F'r
example, three years ago I had a puppy that died.  His name -- sniff! --
was Bingo."  Heidi began to cry.  "Poor Bingo!  'There was a farmer had
a dog/and Bingo was its--'"
"--Uh, thank you, Ensign.  I'm sure the dog meant a lot to you."
"He did."
"Now, I *do* have the option of reprogramming your personality.  Of course,
you'll behave differently and you won't feel driven by any...unwanted
passions."
Heidi looked at Stavay suspicously.  "So you're going to destroy who I am?"
The blonde woman looked sad.  "Is there something wrong with me?"
Difficult question.  "Heidi...do you *think* there's something wrong with
you?"
Heidi placed a finger against her cheek, and tilted her head in deep thought.
"No.  I *like* me, most of the time!"
Stavay tinkered with the thought of adding something else, maybe removing 
some of the more aggravating traits.  On the other hand, if she did that,
she would be **killing** Heidi Abromowitz.  Heidi seemed happy, and for some
reason, was well balanced.  Everyone found happiness in their own way, at
their own pace.  Was Stavay supposed to play God all of a sudden, and tell
Heidi that she was a joke, that there was something wrong with her?  Stavay 
would give anything to be as happy as Heidi Abromowitz...just not in the same
*way*, of course.
"All right, Heidi.  I pronounce you mentally fit."  *But a bit daffy*, Stavay
thought.  "You can go!"
"Thank you, Counselor Samanush!"  Abromowitz stood up, and walked out, only
to be reeled back by the cable still attached to her brain.  The woman looked
at the cable and said, with a smile, "Oops...."
****************************************************************************
Officer's Mess
MD: 3.2050
"All right, let's see.  We can bring this potted plant over here...."  Crewman
Berkowitz sighed as he lifted the plant.  Women.  Even Orion women must have
this compulsive need to arrange things....
Stavay thought the plant would look better there.  For one thing, it blocked
the sight of the smaller door, and gave the illusion that the room possessed
more space.  She only wished it could be a *formal* party, with dress
uniform.  It would require that the conversation match the heightened 
decor.  Semi-formal?  The Counselor thought it might as well be *informal*,
with everyone talking about Dallas Stock holofilms and the Parises' Squares
standings, and who was bonking who.
No, wait.  First party.  No one is bonking *anybody*...yet.
The Commander was the first to enter.  "Hello, Counselor, I see you're hard
at work."
"Sor maken?  Sel sor maradaken.  Nek te groda, nek te filat.  Te baranata
te asar rensyaraden-den, spose' lulet hene chode." 
Hmm, thought Brennan.  To work hard?  Better a difficult robbery.  Not the
tree or the leaf.  The...*baranata*...the plural of baran, whoever the baran
are, take the clock and...attack it?  Did attack it?  *renseladen* means,
'to have attacked', but what does 'rensyaraden' mean?  And what's that
'den-den' ending?  Coloquial?  Regional?  'spose' could be short for
'sposesasel', but can you shorten it that way?  And shouldn't it be,
'hene lulet' and not 'lulet hene'?  Damn, I'm usually a lot better than this....
"Gic-se dar Shrevashal, vena remor,"  
was the Executive Officer's reply.  Better to concede defeat than make an
ass of yourself.
Stavay laughed.  "Well, that makes two of us.  I haven't spoke Shrevashal as
a native speaker in over a decade.  And...I'm starting to forget some of it.
Now and then, I'm starting to wonder if I'm saying the right things.  But I
keep my language skills up.  I read a lot."
"Read a lot of what, Mr. Tats-Marush?"  It was LCDR th'Tellan.  
"Hello, Sir."  Tall.  Very tall.  "I had the chance to speak to your
ENS Abramowitz today."
"Ah," smiled the Romulan.  "What did you think of her?"
Thinking for a few moments, Stavay answered, "I found her quite...sane."
"Good, Counselor.  It dispels all of the doubts in my mind.  I found her
a bit nutty myself."
"Maybe you meant to say she was all 'Air', Mr. th'Tellan."
"Well, if she's 'Air', she's not nitrogen-oxygen.  More like helium, something
very light.  But the Elements don't discriminate."  He looked at the
Counselor.  "And you are?", he asked, interesting to see what elemental
combination she'd make, whether all Earth or all Wind, or 'Earth and Fire'
or some such combination.  On the planets of ch'Rihan and ch'Havran, it
was a cross between party psychology and a religion.
With all seriousness, Stavay replied, "A replicator pack.  Stasable matter.
I've been through a lot of changes recently."
"That explains your fondness for ENS Abramowitz, then.  Being all Air,
and you being adrift as you say, you've been carried aloft by her tailwind.
As well as most of the males in my department, who will unfortunately 
crash to earth in a little while.  A little Earth will do them some good.
I'll be keeping my eye on you Counselor...if only to see what the replicator
coughs up.  Although, I must say, the form is quite attractive."
Suddenly, Stavay realized he was talking about her.  Uh oh.  "So, Mr.
th'Tellan, can you tell us about the mission?"  *Anything* to change the
topic of conversation....
Making small talk with Brennan and th'Tellan, Stavay was happy to see
the arrival of LCDR Catherine Ledoux.  Happy for the first few moments,
anyway.
Immediately, she could feel that awful feeling.  Ledoux didn't look at
anyone.  Her face was flushed, her shoulders slumped in passive defeat.
And she wasn't introducing herself to anyone.
Stavay sidled over to where LCDR Ledoux was standing.  "Commander...hello.
My name is LTJG Stavay Tats-Marush, the new Counselor.  I just wanted to
say hello, and introduce myself.  With my skin, not that I would be missed."
Ledoux smiled weakly.
Stavay leaned forward.  "Sir...can I help you?"
Finally, Catherine raised her head.  "It's just...homesickness."
"I see."  I see that it's a lie.  "Well, I try not to interfere when other
people are homesick.  But frankly, Commander, you're not fooling anybody.
If you want to keep people at arm's length, it's not going to work with
me.  We'll talk about this sometime tomorrow."
"Very well. If I'm available," answered the CMO.  Stavay could tell that
LCDR Catherine Ledoux, DVM, would try her very hardest *not* to be
available.  Well, tough.  Sometimes, as a Counselor, you *had* to offend
people.  The CMO turned away from the Counselor.  Conversation over.
A new officer entered the room.  It wasn't so much an entry as a forward
assault.  Confidence shone from every pore, and Stavay could guess that this
was the Captain.
"Good evening," the woman announced.  Everyone stopped talking and locked
eyes on the stranger.  "For those of you that I have not yet met
personally, I am Captain Amanda Bell, Commanding Officer of this
fine vessel.  And," she paused, "I am late for dinner.
So let's get to it."  
The rule went, "the Captain always sits first".  Brennan walked over to the
end of the table, Bell sat, and then everyone else sat.  The places
had already been marked with cards.
                   th'Tellan                      Keyrin
        Brennan                                                Bell
                    Murray      Ledoux        Tats-Marush
A sparse layout, as it seemed Keyrin and Murray were missing.
Suddenly, the two officers entered.  Murray was somewhat embarrased,
while Keyrin acted as if the party were held for her personally.
Her eyes shifted far right, then far left, then to everyone in the
middle.
"Sorry I'm late.  We have some overzealous students running
diagnostics on the turbolifts... what did I miss?"  
"The first course, Ensign," replied the Captain, not believing the
story about the turbolifts.  "Mr. Faraday, salad for our missing
companions...."
************************************************************************
It seemed that the conversations were shaping up.  Brennan and th'Tellan
were telling old line officer stories.  Murray and Ledoux had linked
up with some complicated conversation.  That left the Captain and
the Security Officer as dinner company.
"So, Counselor, how did you get to the Federation?  As an Orion I mean?",
asked Keyrin.
"Well, as a *Shrevashal*," Stavay added, making a polite correction,
"I was a refugee.  To put it bluntly, I escaped."
"So, you were a political refugee?"
"No, a *personal* refugee.  I was what you'd call a street urchin.  At
twelve, I decided I'd get off the planet or literally die trying.  I made
it to Port Ikhabal Spaceport and swam through a 200 meter pipeline of 
neutronic fuel to get aboard a Bolian spacecraft."
"Isn't neutronic fuel *highly toxic*, Mr. Tats-Marush?", asked the suddenly
interested Ensign.
"Yes.  But as I said, it was getting off the planet, or death.  At that time,
either option was quite agreeable."  Stavay chewed on the main course.
"So...I survived, but with quite a bit of memory loss.  I remembered my name,
some of what had happened, but none of the details.  I was raised on
Bolarus IX after that.  Are you a Terran, Mr. Keyrin?"
"No.  I'm from Calyx."
"I know Calyx.  It's a home of the *Prota Canna*."
Amanda turned.  "That would be the, uh--"
"--Orion Mafia," answered Aelyria.  "Much like the Thieves' Guild," she
added.  "There were a few Prota Canna who were members of
the Thieves' Guild as well.  Like follows like."
"What can you tell us about the pirates of the Shrevashal, Mr. Tats-Marush?",
asked the Captain.  "The Shrevashal seem to have a reputation for piracy
and dancing...don't seem to go together very well," added CPT Bell.
"As well as a reputation for slavery," added the CSO.
"Well...seeing as how the Shrevashal Provisional Government has been bankrupt
since the Federation/Orion wars--that makes it how many centuries now?--
people will do anything to get off Shrevashal, even sell themselves out
with 'life contracts'.  The men end up working in some dilithium mine,
discarded corpses at the age of thirty.  The women end up as sex slaves,
abused in all sorts of ways.  The Shrevashal have specific religious rules
regarding slavery, and entire chapters of the Holy Writ deal with the
proper treatment of slaves.  Other races, however, don't seem to respect
the Holy Writ," remarked Stavay, sipping the wine.
"No kidding.  How come you're not in some brothel, Counselor?  I remember
on Calyx, watching these green teenage girls follow these thuggy Thieves'
Guild wanna-bes.  Those girls looked miserable.  As for the boys--apparently
not all of them end up in the dilithium mines.  There was this "construction
worker" -- I use the term loosely, Counselor -- on Calyx.  He wore long
hair, and an open shirt with a pendant--."
"--a clan sign."  Stavay identified the pendant, as the Captain listened,
with interest.
"--right, and he carried around a gunsword.  He'd wear this ring with the
Orion, oops Shrevashal Imperial Sigil on it and he acted as if he were the
baddest thing on Calyx.  Two years later, he tried to hold up a landcar
and they blew his brains out.  He should've had more sense."
"He was probably better off dead," responded Stavay feeling sympathy for
this young man, looking to piracy and robbery as a way of escaping a 
tragic life.
"Indeed he was, Counselor," replied the Security Officer, meaning not the
same thing at all.
"So how did you get to be friends with a Shrevashal aboard Calyx?", the
Captain asked Keyrin.
"I *didn't*.  Father warned me to stay away from him, and other such
bottom-feeders.  Unfortunately...there was no keeping him from *us*.  He
was relatively benign.  On Calyx, you have to know the dangerous ones 
from the ordinary punks.  We knew how to handle him.  Crime was everywhere,
and you knew how to take care of yourself.  Of course, Father tried to keep
it at arms length...but that was impossible...," she answered, her voice
trailing off.
"Which reminds me," interrupted Brennan from the far end of the table.
"What are you doing packing a knife at the Officer's Mess?"
Keyrin looked very fretful for a few moments.  However,
Murray saved her.  "I heard they serve some **really tough** chicken
aboard the CHESAPEAKE."  Even Ledoux had to laugh at that one, a little.
"You should get your biologists to make a tenderizer," answered th'Tellan.
"I'll put the MLD on it right away, Sir," Murray answered....
**************************************************************************
Counselor's Quarters
MD 1.2206
The party broke up early.  It was a pleasant hour, and the dinner was good,
but for some reason, no one was interested in talking.  They were all
lost in their own worlds, particularly LCDR Ledoux.  She never got to 
ask her about her DVM degree.
There has to be *something* I can do to bring this crew together, Stavay
told herself.  But what?  But what?  That's it.  If we ever have another
dinner, we don't use synthwine.  We use the real thing.  Of course,
alcohol is a depressant.  The Counselor could imagine Ledoux wandering
about the ship with a bottle in one hand, singing French drinking songs.
The door chimed.  "Computer, identify."

"Come in."  The Andorian entered the room.  He was of about average build
for an Andorian--thin--and possessed the same bowl haircut that all Andorians
seemed to have.  Stavay wondered if Andorians and Romulans had the same
barber.
"Mr. Tats-Marush, I'd like to welcome myself.  With the Officer's Dinner
and my lateness in arriving at the starbase, it's taken us a while to "link".
How do you do?"  The two shook hands.  
"Forgive me, I'm a bit tired, Mr. Trarek."  Stavay took off her boots.
"How was the dinner?"
"It was a short dinner.  Every one seemed to be on edge.  Lost in their
own worlds, and not eager to reveal anything."
"Can you blame them, Counselor?  Nothing worth having comes easily."
Stavay smiled.  "True, I'm willing to give them a little bit of time."  
Thinking of the morose CMO, Stavay said, "LCDR Ledoux, on the other hand....
But enough of that."  And with that, the two Counselors discussed the
state of the CHESAPEAKE and what they might report to Commander Brennan....
**************************************************************************** 
Respectfully submitted,
James Bowman
LTJG Stavay Tats-Marush
Counselor, USS CHESAPEAKE
jrbowman@london2.skn.net AND JBowman489@aol.com
All:  Back again.  My posting rate is about one post a week--so don't think
I'm ignoring you....
Amy:  With regard to the Archives...does Jari just pick them off his mail?
In that case, we'd better be sure his address is always included.
Melvin:  I'm beginning to think I'm on a ship with a psycho.  "Heidi
Abromowitz".  Oooo.  I had to reconcile that in my mind, and instead, the
idea began to intrigue me.  I really wish you'd give me ENS Abramowitz
as a protected NPC...and I hope you didn't have other plans for her :)
Christine:  That's right, you're targeted.  This crying has got to stop!
(*insert Barney music here*)
Lynnaea:  Hopefully, you don't mind me borrowing Keyrin for a few paragraphs.
If there's nothing in the conversation from Keyrin's side you found pleasing
or believable, feel free to control/alt/delete/append/amend/burn/explain/
decry portions of the text as you see fit.