That damned uniform was forever spoiling this Warp Seven sexpot. The crimson mane of a wildcat.....the piercing, studious eyes of a scientist.....the taut abdomen of a health-care professional (it's all that leaning and getting up and down over fallen subjects).....the toned legs of a holodeck dancer.....and the patience and understanding of a trained officer. My tricorder was always going off whenever she beamed in. But that insipid brat Wesley; I'd have to set up a Level Two confinement field around him and make him watch as Beverly and I explored strange new worlds.