You are Lieutenant Jack Spratt, and one thing could be said about you.
You could indeed eat fat.
You are the USS Gilbreth's main contributor for the variety of dessert programmed into the Gilbreth's replicator library. You are equally notorious for consuming at least one dessert every time you were in the ship's lounge. If you haven't eaten your way through the litany of desserts available to the ship's crew, it wasn't for lack of trying.
Of course, you have an accelerated metabolism, made more so by the fact you ran everywhere. Your Vulcan department head warned you that it was only logical to anticipate your metabolism slowing down in the future. You would then need to adjust your dietary intake accordingly.
But that day had not yet come, and so you saw no reason to adjust.
You have been on the Gilbreth for four months now, and have settled right in. You have demonstrated that you are both a reliable officer and engineer. You have made several friends, both among the ship's gourmands and its runners. You have had a couple of romantic relationships, but both had been casual, and were more of the "friends with benefits" variety.
The Gilbreth wasn't bad duty. True, it wasn't one of the newer ships on the frontier. It was a California-class, designed for support and police actions well within the borders of the Federation. But the Gilbreth still did her duty, and she did it with pride.
You have just finished your duty shift and were heading to the lounge (undoubtedly to have another dessert) when
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