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Episode #109: Welcome Aboard
Reel 1 
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	Jennifer Sakachi looked out into the blackness of space for the last
time in a very long while.  She pondered the contradiction there; while she
would probably spend the next five years in space, Jen would never see it. 
It would all be through the eyes of Sailor Orion, a concept she was still
coming to grips with.  It was through kindness and a few loopholes that she
had managed to come up and take a look at her ship without having to
transform.

	"Shuttle 973, come right bearing zero-four-five mark three-zero."

	The pilot made a slight adjustment with the flight controls in
accordance with the flight director in the shuttle bay.  Suddenly, Jen could
see the ship that would be her home for the next five years.

	H.M.S. Pleiades, twelfth ship of the Haruna-class, call number
RMS-32403, hung gleaming silver in space.  300 meters from stem to stern,
112 meters at the beam, 90 meters from keel to the top deck, it was the most
beautiful ship Jen had ever seen.  And as a double bonus, it was the first
cruise for both of them; Jen had never had command of a ship, and Pleiades
had never left the Sol system.

	"Guess we've got a bit to learn about each other."

***

	Jen stood impatiently in the airlock, tapping her gloved hand on the
door frame.  The air was still being pumped in, and she was extremely eager
to look at the interior of her ship firsthand.  She also wanted to try out
her new persona.  She had been working on a tough-nosed military captain's
image during the briefings yesterday, and she felt that she was about as
feared as an eighteen year old could be.  Finally, the indicator lights
turned green and an ensign pulled open the hatch.  The bosun blew the
traditional greeting.
	
	"Permission to come aboard?"
	
	"Granted, sir!"
	
	Jen took off her helmet and began working on the rest of her suit. 
"Your name?"
	
	"Ensign James Duvall, SIR!"
	
	Jen jumped, then glared angrily at the man . . . boy, actually.  He
barely looked over seventeen.  She looked at the ceiling.  True, there was
no particular reason that you looked at the ceiling when speaking to the
computer, but old habits died hard.  "Computer, make it a standing order
that the word 'Sir' is not to be said in anything other than a
conversational tone."
	
	Nothing happened.  Jen failed to notice this for a moment.  "One
thing you'll learn, Mister Duvall, is that this is a ship of the Royal Star
Navy, not boot camp.  And you will also learn that I am neither a drill
sergeant nor a lover of loud noises."
	
	A clattering in the background confirmed this.
	
	"Dammit, what's with the racket?"
	
	"Sorry sir," came the muffled response from around the corner. 
"Still working on a few minor details."
	
	She muttered incoherently for a moment; her romance with this ship
definitely wasn't extending to its crew.  She then looked at the ceiling
again.  "Computer, did you hear me?  Computer?"
	
	"Um, Sailor Orion?"

	"Yes?" asked Jen, not paying enough attention to be annoyed that he
addressed her by her senshi name despite the fact that she was clearly in a 
standard-issue jumpsuit.

	"Err, he prefers to be called Antares."

	"Antares?"

	"Antares."
	
	"Great.  Not only is my crew incompetent, but the AI's a bloody
prima donna."
	
	"Hey, I resemble that remark!"
	
	This last was said by the computer in question, who had a tenorous
voice that could be soothing on some occasions, but now positively rankled.
	
	"Pardon?"
	
	"Well, Captain Sakachi, I'll have you know that I am the most
advanced artificial intelligence you have ever met.  I can do-"
	
	"Yes, just spare me the processing speeds, okay?"  She finished
taking off her space suit and brushed some imaginary lint off from her
jumpsuit.  "Look, you just do as I say, and I expect that everything will be
fine."
	
	"Oh, I'm quite sure of that, Captain Sakachi--or may I call you
Jenny--but they didn't give me a complete personality for nothing."
	
	Jen had been walking out the door to the corridor, but she stopped
in her tracks.  "What was it that you said?" she asked in a voice that said
rather clearly that saying whatever it was that had been said would prove
to be fatal to someone, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be Jennifer
Sakachi.
	
	"Well, I said 'Oh, I'm quite sure of that, Captain Sakachi--or may I
call you Jenny--but they didn't give me a complete personality for
nothing.'"
	
	"Ah."  She continued walking, leaving the poor boy in the airlock. 
Pleiades's master walked along, talking to no-one that was visible.  "You
see, that's where we have the misunderstanding.  *No-one* calls me Jenny. 
Got it?"
	
	"Loud and clear, Jenny!"
	
	She repressed the desire to transform and beat the living Turing out
of the machine, wherever it was.  "Computer-"
	
	"Antares."
	
	"Antares . . . where the hell did you get a name like that?"
	
	"Get a dictionary.  You'll find it quite useful."
	
	"What?  Look, pal, you may be a computer, but in no way will I
tolerate this sort of behavior from anyone under my command, and that
especially includes you!"
	
	"Sure thing, Jenny."
	
	"Antares . . . or should I say Ann . . . where are your central
processors located?"
	
	"Deck nine, sector E, behind a meter of crystal and a door that can
only be opened with the concurrence of the Captain and First Officer.  As
neither sailors are technically present, I really don't think that you're
going to do your number on me."
	
	She could not believe the smugness of this computer.  It had done
something no-one else had done quite so quickly: gotten under her skin.
"Look, *Ann*, I don't think we've started one the right foot here."
	
	"Yes, especially when you call me Ann!"
	
	"AND WHEN YOU CALL ME JENNY!"  She was about to add quite a bit to
this, but she then noticed several crew members staring at her.  She
hadn't realized that she could get that loud.
	
	"Err . . . carry on, or something."
	
	They continued to stare.
	
	"Well, can't you understand an order?  Move it!"
	
	They did as she commanded.  Jen took a moment to compose herself,
and then addressed Antares once again.
	
	"Now, I think that it profits no-one to carry on this bickering, do
you agree?"
	
	"Yes."
	
	"Good, now we're getting somewhere.  Now, can you please tell me
where my first officer is?"
	
	"No."
	
	She sighed and produced a handlink.  "There now, you see, that's the
main problem we have here." She punched a couple of buttons, and the display
lit up.  "Hey, where'd that come from?"
	
	"Well, Jenny-"
	
	"Grrrr!"
	
	"-I, as always, had a direct link with your handlink there, noted
your facial expressions, and decided with ninety-seven percent probability
that you were going to call up a map so you could get to your quarters and
start shouting at me in earnest.  So I downloaded the appropriate files to
the handlink, and there we are.  Rather nice, wouldn't you say Jenny?"
	
	"Certainly, *Ann!*"
	
	"Well, no progress on that front, eh?"  Astonishingly, or not so
astonishingly, considering the record Jen and Antares had going, the AI
chuckled.  "Well, hope you find your way.  I'll be going, okay?" And with an
audible click, he was gone, leaving her to navigate a way to her cabin by
herself.

***

	This voyage proved quite educational to Jennifer, as it showed her
just how small Pleiades was.  A far cry from the warships and battlewagons
like Titan and Oberon, Pleiades was nothing more than a survey ship,
scouting out new systems and checking up on old ones, out in the hinterlands
of Serenity's rule.  Most of her space was taken up by engineering and
storage space, and things were extraordinarily crowded. This was proved to
her by the number of people she had to rub shoulders with as she made her
way, despite a relatively small crew.  She would later learn that she was
one of only five people who even rated their own staterooms.

	Stateroom, however, was to prove to Jen to be a hopelessly kind
term.

	"Cripes!  I've seen bigger closets!"  About the size of a living
room, there was an obvious fold-up bed, a desk and chair, a tube just wide
enough for her to fit into, and a tiny bathroom.  And nothing else. 
Obviously, new did not mean plush.  There was no way Eileen was sharing this
room with her.  She was prevented from further inspection of her quarters by
the intercom.

	"Sailor Orion to the bridge, please?  Sailor Orion to the bridge."

	Well, she thought, better give the digs the ultimate litmus test. 
"Orion Star Power, Make-Up!"

	Once again, the indescribable magic coruscated around her, flowing
like a waterfall.  Green and blue cascaded around her, resolving themselves
into her normal Sailor Orion fuku, which was still taking her some getting
used to.  Verdict: nice and roomy, with lots of space for all the twirling
around that transformation required.

	Orion walked over to the tube at the far end of the room.  Stepping
inside, she was rushed up into a similar tube on the bridge in a couple of
seconds.

	For its part, the bridge bore little resemblance to the huge
basketball courts that one saw in twentieth century science fiction shows. 
It was closer to the bridge of a nuclear submarine, except slightly more
roomy and with less random columns everywhere.  Two consoles were at the
front, directly in front of the viewscreen, which in lieu of anything
interesting was displaying status reports.  Similar consoles were to the
aft, facing the rear bulkhead.  All along the walls were smaller,
irregularly spaced screens, and red digital clocks, either keeping ship's
time or counting down or up.  To either side of center were two other
consoles, and in dead center was The Chair.

	Orion walked towards it, called by a higher purpose.  As if in a
dream, she almost floated towards it.  This was rather unfortunate, for if
it actually *had* been a dream, she probably wouldn't have tripped over a
bundle of wires carelessly strewn across the threshold.

	"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

	"Captain on the bridge . . . oh.  Sir, are you all right?"

	Orion stood up shakily.  "I think so, but I'd rather not repeat that
anytime soon, okay?" She peered at the speaker's name tag, but couldn't see
it. Cursing both the designers who put a black name tag on a black uniform
and the parentage of whoever was responsible for putting wires in front of
the door, she hobbled to the center chair.

	"Lights?  Can we get them a bit brighter, Mister . . . "

	"Porter, sir.  Lieutenant Sammy Porter, and I'll have those lights
up right away.  We were conducting an exercise," she added by way of
explanation, going over to her station in the back and tapping a button.

	Instantly the room grew brighter, the red battle lights being
replaced with the more cheerful white lights.  They showed every chair but
two occupied, several other people walking about and doing indiscernible
things, and Sailor Orion rubbing her knee, which appeared to be skinned.

	"Personal note: get some knee pads for this fuku, before I'm walking
on crutches." She looked up from her knee and took another look around.  An
immeasurable sense of pride filled her, and the unpleasantness back
downstairs faded away.  This was *her* ship, *her* crew.  And that was *her*
chair.  She sat down.  *Extremely* comfy.

	"Sailor Orion, we have a transmission coming in from Fleet
Headquarters."

	"Wonderful timing.  Put it on, please, Mister . . . ?"

	"Leeds.  Lieutenant Commander Vanessa Leeds, sir.  Coming up now,
sir."

	On the viewscreen, the status reports were replaced by the image of
a young rating in dress whites.  He looked to be about twenty, and utterly
without ambition.

	"Pleiades command, you--Wait a minute!  Sailor Orion?!?"  He
hurriedly rifled through papers and screens.  "You're not scheduled to be
aboard for another day!"

	Orion looked calmly at the boy as his materials flew all over the
place, to the consternation of those around him.  They said that being on
the Moon ruined your coordination, as witnessed by Serenity's early years. 
If so, then the decision to place RSN HQ on, or rather, in the Moon was a
mistake.  "And would you have me come aboard two days after Pleiades weighed
anchor?"

	The boy was at a loss.  "Err, that is . . . well . . . "

	"Well, what's your message?"  A couple of the bridge crew began to
laugh silently at the rating's plight.

	"Err, I'm to inform Pleiades Command that Sailor Jupiter will be
coming aboard to make sure everything's ready for Sailor Orion, sir."

	"Is she?"

	"Yes, and um . . . this is not to be revealed to Sailor Orion,
either, sir."

	"It isn't?"

	"No, sir."

	"Well then, Mister, I suppose you've failed miserably.  Anyway,
inform Sailor Jupiter that the message was received by Pleiades command. 
Oh, and don't give any names, okay?  Bye!" She turned to Vanessa.  "End
transmission."

	"Yes, sir, ending transmission."  The rating's face was replaced by
the usual status indicators.

	"Sailor Orion?"

	"Yes, Mister . . . " She turned, complimenting the builders of the
chair on how well it swiveled.

	"Young, sir.  Lieutenant Commander Kim Young."

	"Lieutenant commander?  Am I surrounded by them?"

	"Yes."

	"Oh."  Orion ran her hand through her hair and readjusted her
glasses.

	"You see, sir," continued Kim, "apparently HQ thought that having an
experienced bridge crew would help smooth out your first cruise."

	"Ah.  And how long have you been in the Navy?"

	"Two months."

	"WHAT?"

	"Trust us, we aren't too hot on it either.  But apparently, all the 
*really* experienced officers are needed closer to home."

	She left unsaid what they both thought.  That the powers that be had
deemed them insignificant, and so were leaving them to sort things out at
the edge of known space alone.  Not a cheerful thought.  "So, Mister Young-"

	"Kim."

	"I beg your pardon?"

	"We've already decided that, sir.  Since you seem so big on getting
rid of useless naval procedure-"

	"Do I?"

	"Oh yeah, everyone knows about it."  It was actually a blind guess,
but they were feeling lucky.  "Anyway, we decided that it would be more
conducive to the command environment if you could call us by out first
names."

	She mulled over it for a moment.  Her tough-gal attitude was eroding
by the second.  "You know, it does have a certain merit to it.  Breaks all
the rules, but hey, if they're going to send us to the hinterlands, might as
well have fun."

	Grins all around greeted that statement.  They were far broader on
the senior officers than on the lower techs who came and went.  The techs
wouldn't have to deal with the captain on a daily basis.  There was a large
morale difference between Lt. Cmdr. Leeds and Vanessa.

	"So anyway, Kim, as I was saying, what are your qualifications?"

	"Well, Sammy, Vanessa, and I all graduated from the academy, class
of '29 . . . "

	"I kind of figured that out."

	"Well, we got one month stints on an Earth-Saturn shuttle run, got
used to space . . . except for Sammy-"

	"Why?"

	The blonde blushed as the black-haired woman continued.  "She's one
of the first children born on Venus.  Her parents are part of the
expeditionary team trying to set up the colony."

	"I see."  While a great deal of effort had gone into interstellar
colonization, little work had been done in the system itself.  This was
partly because of Serenity's paranoid streak; the Silver Millennium had
stayed in-system, and that strategy had done them no good at all.  Thus,
only Mars had a breathable atmosphere after about three hundred years of
terraforming, and efforts on Venus had been ongoing for only the past
century or so.

	"Yes, sir."  Kim leaned a little closer and whispered in Orion's
ear. "And confidentially, sir, I think she's about as flighty as Sailor
Venus was supposed to be."

	"Ah, another student of history?"  Orion's face lit up at the
prospect.

	Kim made a face.  "Oh, no, sir.  Couldn't stand it.  But I had to find
*some* explanation for why she is like she is."

	They both turned to regard Sammy, hopelessly mixed up in giving
orders to a dozen section chiefs at once.

	"I see what you mean.  Well, I see nothing else to do around here. 
If anyone needs me," she said, already walking towards a door, "I'll be in
my office."

	She opened the door, and it obligingly swung shut behind her.

	"Damn!"

	"What is it, Kim?" asked Vanessa, looking up from a report she was 
filing.

	"I forgot to ask her about . . . you know."

	"Oh, the whole thing with Sailor America?"  She shook her head. 
"Really, Kim, I should think that with departure in a couple of days, you'd
find more important things to worry about than our captain's sexual
preferences."

	"Like?"

	"Oh, things like the core overload in the #2 reactor that will cause 
detonation in thirty seconds."

	"Oh shit!"

	"Just kidding."

	Kim glared from her console, which was across the bridge from where
she had been.  She had definitely broken speed records in getting there and
checking the status boards.  "You bi-"

	"Now, now, there are children present."

	"Sammy does not qualify as a child!"

	Vanessa arched an eyebrow.  "Anyway, that'll learn you to keep on
your toes.  This is a starship, not an interplanetary barge."

	"Yeah.  Somebody tell Orion that."

***

	At that point, Sailor Orion was rifling through the cards, papers,
and handlinks of her office.  Noting one of the many display screens that
one could seemingly never get away from on this ship ('information overload
in spades', she thought), she saw that Sailor Jupiter's shuttle was
currently docking.  She'd have to give a welcome aboard speech.  And this
after she'd only been aboard herself for a couple of hours.  A veritable
barrel of monkeys.

	Looking around, she could see that the 'office' was little more than
an afterthought.  The designers had clearly intended for most of the
captain's work to be done either on the bridge or in the captain's cabin. 
In fact, she thought she had seen some old blueprint which had this space as
an emergency cabin in case of decompression.

	She kneeled next to the wall and pulled away slightly at a bit of
loose cornerwork.  The initials ITS were scrawled on the pipe that lay
behind it.  The mark of the person who had persuaded the design geniuses to
put in this little cubbyhole, this hideaway from the hectic pace of the
bridge.

	"Thanks for the graduation present, Dad."

***

	For the second time that day, the bosun's whistle sounded the three
notes for an arriving senshi.  Apparently, Sailor Jupiter rated a more
elaborate welcome than Orion, as she had no need to put on a suit.  She
walked from the shuttle to the airlock without having to change pressures.

	"Sailor Orion!"

	"Sailor Jupiter!"

	The hug ensued.  All senshi were sisters, at least in theory, and
therefore it was no great thing to hug someone you had never met before. 
Orion looked for a moment at one of the few senshi who were in her league in
the height department, and smiled.  Jupiter saw the smile and responded in
kind.

	"Yeah, kind of tough having to look down on everyone all the time. 
Especially on a female-dominated ship like this.  Don't worry, you'll get
used to it."

	Orion certainly hoped so.  She'd been on the tall side before
becoming a senshi; her transformation added a few more centimeters onto her
height.  "Yes.  So, would you like a tour?"

	"Thought you'd never ask."

	As they began to walk through the ship, Orion pointed out various
points of interest.  Engineering, where the ship's power came from, and
where the fold generators were located.  Medical, where one could get one's
cuts and bumps taken care of.  Environmental, where the ship's air and water
was recycled by a curious amalgam of magical and technological means.  A
random corridor in which she saw a flash of pink hair racing away.  Orion
made a mental note to have the corridor checked.  Her first command was
stressful enough without having to worry about phantom intruders.

	"And this is the bridge," she concluded, leading Sailor Jupiter onto
the final stop on the tour of any ship.  "Where we take care of the ship and
all 229 crew members." She gave a Vanna White-like gesture, indicating the
nerve center of Pleiades.

	"Allrighty, Sailor Orion.  I take it, then, that you are ready to
depart at any moment?"

	Orion grimaced.  "Not quite, Jupiter.  We're still waiting on some
supplies, food, and so forth.  And the first officer hasn't shown up yet, or
been chosen, as far as I know." She leaned against her chair and gave a
level gaze to the auburn-haired Senshi.  "Would you happen to know who it
is?"

	There was a twinkle in Jupiter's eyes.  Those who had know her as
Makoto Kino might have identified it as the anticipation of a joke that was
about to be pulled.  However, all who had known her by that appellation were
dead and dust a thousand years ago, save a handful.

	"Yes, I would.  And I'm sure as heck not going to be the one to tell
you."

	"Oh, thanks a lot, Jupiter."

	She gave that smile again.  "Live to serve."

	Orion didn't need to turn to see the wide grins on the faces of her 
bridge crew.  This would definitely be a long cruise.

	And it hadn't even started yet.