Jack of Harts

Jackie White enjoyed dancing. If you ask me about her, that’s really the first thought that comes to mind. She grew up catering to tourists wanting to hear Hawaiian music and see Hawaiian dancing. Cooking wild hogs beneath the beach sands was normal to her way of life. Juggling flaming brands and placing flower necklaces on visitors was just part of the scenery of her youth. That and the elevator rising far above Palmyra that brought them down from orbit. I asked her what it was like to grow up there. She told me it was magical. They were no more than a few thousand of her best friends and worst enemies on a postage stamp island in the middle of thousands of kilometers of empty ocean, serving guests who had traveled lightyears to live a few days of the “natural Hawaiian life.” She said it prepared her for life on a starship better than anything else she could think of.

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