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Episode #119:  The Captain's Dinner
Reel 1  
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	It was a rather plain card, but of course it was the thought that 
counted.

	"Lieutenant Samantha Barbara Porter, you are cordially invited to
attend a dinner in honor of the Captain, Sailor Orion, at 17:00 on the
evening of the tenth of April, three thousand and thirty, in the senior
officer's wardroom.  RSVP."

	"Wow!" exclaimed Vanessa.  "You got one too?"

	"Yep!"  Sammy wore the biggest smile she'd had since Bennington
died.  "What am I going to wear?"

	"Wear?  Silly, you go in dress uniform!"

	"Dressies?"

	"You two wanna cool it over there?" shouted Kim from her post at
the back of the bridge.  As part of the ever-revolving assignments, Kim was
at navigation, Vanessa at environmental of all places, and Sammy was at the
helm, which she was beginning to like more and more.

	"Gee, never knew her to shout like that," said Vanessa, this time
over her headset.

	"Yeah."  Sammy munched on her lower lip for a moment.  "Do you think
Kim got invited?"

	"I don't know.  You know how she can be at times, and-"

	"For your information," said Kim scathingly over the headset, "I
*was* invited, and *will* attend!"

	"Kim!  Eavesdropping like that!  Shame on you!"  But all three were 
smiling.

	"It's party time!"

	They were far more right than they could have imagined.

***

	In the deep recesses of space, Number Two licked his wounds.  The
attack on Pleiades had not gone well at all, and while he called it a
strategic retreat, it was actually an opportunity to sit back and examine
everything he had learned about his adversary.

	"Your Excellency," began a flunky on the bridge, "we're receiving
another message from the Queen, and-"

	"Send the same message as before."

	"Aye."

	Number Two leaned back in his chair.  Selenite had been hounding him
recently and demanding to know precisely what he was up to.  He had always
replied with the message that he was irrevocably engaged at the moment.  It
was his personal theory that one of his predecessor's mistakes was to come
sheepily shame-faced to Selenite once too often.  He thought that while
Selenite could handle defeat rather well, coming back to her in person and
telling her the bad news would not increase one's job expectancy.

	Thus, he planned to hang around at a good distance away from his
monarch until such time as he had some good news to report to her.  Judging
from the data he was looking at right now, he might have some very good news
indeed.

***

	Princess Usagi Tsukino lay on the right side of her bed.  It was
23:40, and she was off duty.  Moreover, she wasn't currently Sailor Moon. 
Part of the reason was that it was nice to wear something more comfortable
than a sailor fuku, and her jumpsuit certainly qualified as such.

	The main reason, though, was that she was mad and didn't like being
mad in a fuku.  She felt she had a legacy to live up to.  The reason she was
really mad: she'd nearly gotten herself killed during that last fight. 
Being killed counted as losing, and she hated to lose.  So she was really
kicking herself for being so incompetent, despite the fact that there was
very little she could have done to prevent matters.

	However, being brought up as royalty has its pitfalls, and one of
them is the mistaken impression that one can do little or nothing wrong. 
While it was generally agreed by historians that Serenity had done nothing
wrong during her reign, with some dissenters, Usagi felt that this absolved
her from all wrongdoing.  Thus while she was really blaming herself, she
saw it as blaming Sailor Orion.  It was hardly true, and quite farfetched,
but the human psyche is a strange thing, and a senshi's psyche is about as
strange as they come.

	So Usagi lay on her bed and catalogued her grievances against her
captain.

	"Number eighty-five: She doesn't love cats.  She hasn't said
outright that she hates them, but she never confessed to liking them. 
Anyone who doesn't like Diana is plainly wrong.

	"Diana . . . why aren't you here?

	The answer was obvious, even if her mother hadn't said it.  Cats
weren't meant to be in space.

	She rolled over and went to sleep, dreaming of felines.

***

	Eric Lunestes wasn't dreaming of felines, mainly because he wasn't
asleep.  He'd had mounds of work to do since he'd taken over Bennington's
job, and he'd correspondingly cut his sleeping time.

	As he worked, he let his mind wander back to Earth.  Not many
people onboard knew about his past, which was by design; his memories of the
time weren't all that pleasant.  He'd been an orphan in Crystal Tokyo, and
while things hadn't been distinctly *bad*, methods of dealing with the
orphaned hadn't improved greatly in the past thousand years, mainly because
there were so few of them.

	He didn't know his parents; he'd been found at the doorstep of a
Catholic school at the age of two.  He'd grown up at the Kino Makoto
Orphanage, been adopted by foster parents, gone to the Academy at nineteen,
graduated at twenty-two; the RSN ran on the same fast track as the School
for senshi.  Pleiades was his first assignment.

	He frowned at a form he was filling out.  It was a requisition for
spare parts.  "Why bother?" he muttered, and tossed it in the recycling bin. 
"Way things are going, we'll be bloody lucky to get back to Earth anyway."

	Eric was split over his captain's decisions.  On the one hand, he
was having difficulty believing the tenacity and boldness of the girl. 
Personally, he'd have turned tail and run ages ago.  On the other hand,
though, was his fervent patriotism.  He owed the crown everything: they'd
raised him, and provided him with a career and a life.

	More than anything, though, he loved the Queen, mainly because of
what she stood for: hundreds of years of occasionally interrupted peace
and prosperity.  He felt a certain bond with her, for a reason he couldn't
quite discern; he hadn't even seen her in person until Pleiades's send-off.

	He inspected another form, and made a face.  He hated crew
evaluations.

***

	"Captain, precisely how long do you plan to stand in front of that
mirror?"

	Jen continued to examine her teeth.  "As long as necessary."

	She had gotten the idea that if she detransformed and then
transformed again, her dental problems would be solved.  But after four
tries, she had decided that it wasn't working.  Her upper left incisor was
gone for good, or at least until one could be regenerated back on Earth.

	"It's not coming back, you know."

	"I *know* that, you silly adding machine!  I'm just not happy about
it."

	"Oh really?"  Jen frowned; if Antares was human, she was certain
that he'd arch an eyebrow right now.  "Better you not be happy about a tooth
than be depressed over those two, or even lovey-dovey about-"

	"You can stop now, you know."

	"Ah, I'm so sorry Jen," said the computer in a voice that indicated
that apologies were the last thing on his mind.

	Jennifer turned from her reflection in the mirror and flopped on her
bed.  She was still uncertain as to what she would wear.  She really didn't
want to go to a formal dinner in her fuku, but beyond that, what did she
have?  Her dress whites were a size too small, she had essentially banned
the fleet's khaki uniforms early on, and she certainly couldn't wear a
jumpsuit.

	"There's nothing wrong with a sailor fuku, Jenny."

	"I know, I know.  But everyone else will be wearing their best, and
I'd hate to think that a short skirt is the best I can manage."

	"The best you can manage?  Captain, you should be quite happy that I
don't have a corporeal body, or I'd be slapping you silly right now!"

	"What?"

	"I mean, really!  After all the hard work you went through to earn
the right to wear that outfit, and now you want something different?"

	"That's about the size of it."

	"Boolean logic preserve us."  Antares made a sound that was the
closest attempt to a sigh as he'd managed.  "Jennifer, you should be proud
to wear it. You've earned it.  That's something no-one else on this ship can
claim."

	Jen sat up and digested this bit of advice for a moment, then
nodded.  She took out a brush and began straightening her red hair.  "You
know, you're right."

	"Of course I am.  I've got a better processor than you," said the
ship's erstwhile counselor.  If you called him that, however, you were
likely to have a few zeroes missing from your next paycheck.

	"Right.  Always egotistic."

	"Um-hm.  And a dress uniform is on the way up from the
quartermaster.  It should fit perfectly."

	And with that, Antares made that little click that meant that as far
as he was concerned, the conversation was over.  Jen sat with herself and
her thoughts.

***

	"*Very* impressive," whispered Number Two.  He had just finished his
analysis of the information they'd picked up from Pleiades.  His attempt to
tap into their computers had failed, but the audio he'd gotten more than
made up for it.

	'Sensors show we're surrounded by x-rays!'  A panicked voice;
probably some lower lackey.

	'Go through them.'  Authoritative, unusually so.  The captain?  She
certainly spoke like she was superior to everyone else.

	'Belay that!  Sailor Moon, I give the orders around here.  You want
to cook us all?'

	Now, *there* was something interesting.  The second voice had been
Sailor Moon?  But that would mean that . . . no, it couldn't be.  Selenite's
arch-enemy wouldn't risk her precious behind out here in space, not without
protection.  If the Sailor Moon that had defeated Beryl was out there, then
she had to have all her friends.  Mercury, Venus, Mars, Venus: all names he
had learned to hate and fear for a lifetime.

	But therein lay the problem.  Sailor Moon was taking orders from
someone else: that third voice which had to be that wretched Sailor Orion.

	"It just doesn't make sense," muttered Number Two.  How had things
gotten to the state that the great Sailor Moon took orders from someone
else?  Could Orion possess powers greater than the Moon Princess?  And if
so, what chance did he stand against them?

	There was another conclusion, though.  One he needed additional
proof for.  He reached over and pressed a button.

	"Yes, your Excellency?"

	"Get us to Pleiades's last position."

***

	" . . . and the Fold is now underway."

	"Thank you."  Captain Jennifer Allison Sakachi, a month and thirteen
days short of her nineteenth birthday, punched a button and closed the
communication with the bridge.  After some more deliberation, she had come
to two conclusions.

	First, they should take the opportunity and Fold while the dinner
was being held.  That way, there'd be no chance of being caught unawares by
the Dark Kingdom.

	Second, she would go out in public as Jen Sakachi for the first time
since they had left Earth.  She still wasn't completely sure why she was
doing it, but she felt that it was something she had to do.  She consoled
herself with the notion that it would beat anything Sailor Moon could do. 
Moon didn't have the moxie to attend out of her fuku.

	She examined herself in the mirror one more time, making sure her
cap was on straight.  It certainly wouldn't show any wear or tear; she'd
never worn it before.  She'd have to thank the quartermaster for coming up
with such a good fit with such short notice.

	"You're sure you want to do this?"

	"Well, it was your idea, Antares!"

	"Was it?  As I recall, I merely gave you the option.  I must confess
that all this hand-wringing over a simple uniform is rather frivolous."

	"Frivolous or not, it's my decision, and I've made it."

	"Fine, Jen-chan."

	"WHAT?"

	"Get used to it.  You don't have your fuku to hide behind anymore."

***

	"Oh come on, when is she going to get here?"

	"She said 17:00, Sailor Moon.  I don't think she'll be late."

	"She's got two minutes, Sammy.  Then she's toast."

	Sammy leaned over to whisper in Kim's ear.  "She's completely
whacko."

	"Give her a chance," whispered back Kim.  "She's had it rough the
past few months."

	"And we haven't?"

	"And just what are you two whispering about?"

	"Nothing!" replied Kim and Sammy in unison.

	"Real smooth," muttered Vanessa.

	It was, actually.  As can be surmised, they were in the senior
officer's wardroom, a small chamber set off from the lounge.  They sat at
the long rectangular table, with Sailor Moon at one end.  To her left were
Kim, Sammy, and Vanessa.  To her right were Dr. Sampson, who still refused
to be called Emma, Eric Lunestes, and Lieutenant Temako.

	Temako was at the head of a furor that had gone entirely unnoticed
by the bridge crew.  Orion preferred a hands-off policy when it came to
individual departments which usually worked well.  However, it was a bit
more messy now.  The Environmental department as a whole was in charge of
life support, with food service and xenobiology added on as an afterthought. 
Thus, there were a lot of wildly different personalities at work there.

	The bridge crew wasn't quite sure of exactly what had happened. 
Apparently the roots had been laid down before Katsuragi II.  But somehow, a
sort of coup de department had occurred, and when the dust settled, Temako
came out as head of the department.  The actual details were hidden in
requisition forms, internal promotions, shop votes, and other vagaries of
Environmental.  Orion didn't really care, as long as things ran smoothly.

	They were all more or less hanging around, waiting for Sailor Orion
to show up and take her place at the head of the table.  They had waited for
ten minutes.  They would not wait much longer.

	At 16:59:53, ship time, Sailor Moon finally saw the mop of red hair
come through the door.  "Well, Sailor Orion, it certainly took . . . oh
dear."

	"Err . . . ."

	"Um . . . ."

	"Uh . . . ."

	"Captain?"

	"Is something wrong?" asked Captain Sakachi.  She removed her cap
and sat at the table.  "Were you expecting someone else?"

	"Um, sir," began Sammy timidly, "I know you told me not to tell you
about the regs, but general order #2434-b clearly states that a Senshi shall
wear her fuku at all times while on duty."

	"Yes.  But I don't think that matters."

	"WHAT?"  Sampson, who happened to be sitting closest to Sailor Moon,
put a restraining hand on Moon's.  "DOESN'T MATTER?!?"

	Jen took a glass of water and sipped from it.  "Well, we *are*
thousands of light years from Earth, and-"

	"And that means that you can throw away the rules whenever it suits
you?"

	"No, just the ones that are superfluous.  And one can hardly be
expected to wear a fuku during a Fold."

	By now, Sailor Moon's face had reached the exact tint of pink as her
hair, and had journeyed even further into the territory of red.  "This is
dereliction of duty!"

	"I'm still the captain, Sailor Moon, no matter what I wear.  And if
I want to wear the normal uniform, I'll wear it."

	Moon muttered to herself a bit, and then quieted down.

	"Right," said Sakachi, "let's eat, shall we?"

***

	Space roiled, swirled, and did various other things that its maker,
if it had one, certainly hadn't meant it to do.  Out of all this came a
flock of ships, all crewed by denizens of what was left of the Dark Kingdom.

	On the bridge of the fleet's flagship, Number Two relaxed despite
what he was hearing.

	"Your Excellency, we can't find Pleiades anywhere!  No ion trails,
either!"

	"Just what I expected," said Number Two lazily.  "Do you have the
tracking device ready?"

	"Yes, but we-"

	"Good.  Jump us to their exit point."

***

	The first course was water and breadsticks.  It was a tradition in
two ways.  The first ship to leave the solar system had been commanded by
Sailor Mercury, who in a leap of faith decided that since she designed the
ship, she should be on it.  She was, and did a good job.  However, the weeks
and months of worrying over the launch caught up with her, and she came down
with severe gastrointestinal problems, proving once and for all that senshi
were, in fact, human.

	In any case, they had already planned a dinner in honor of Mercury's
achievement, and she managed to attend.  Her stomach was still terribly
unsettled, though, and so she could only eat bread and water.

	This was of course the kind of story Captain Sakachi just ate up,
and she gladly recounted it to the table as the course was served. 
Reactions varied, from Kim's rapt attention to Sailor Moon's coming
dangerously close to nodding off.

	" . . . and so, in recognition, every captain's dinner since has
begun with breadsticks and water, regardless of what's going on around
them.  Great, isn't it?"

	"Very!" replied Kim.

	"I knew you'd think so."  Jen let out a rarely heard giggle.  "I'm
telling you, Kim, you'll make a fine historian."

	"Oh, no sir!"  Sailor Orion said that of everyone at some point or
another.  The general consensus was that she seriously overestimated the
infectious nature of history.

	"Captain," began Sailor Moon, "I think we've had our fill of bread
for the night, so if we could get to the main course?"

	Jen spared her first officer a frown, and then nodded.  "As you
say." She turned to the head chef, the only person on the ship whose only
job was handling food.  "Bring the trays in, please?"

	"Of course, sir."  She wheeled about and disappeared out the door.

	"So, Captain, what do we have to eat?"  Eric looked absolutely
famished; he hadn't stopped glancing at the door, waiting for the meal to be
brought in.  Jen laughed.

	"Really, Eric, didn't you have lunch?"

	"Err, no sir."

	"Ah, thought you'd fill up tonight, eh?"  This time the trio joined
Jen and Eric in laughing.  Sampson and Moon exchanged glances, as they
leaned over to whisper to each other.

***

	"Have you ever seen her so . . . light hearted, Sailor Moon?"

	"No . . . sometimes she's cheerful, but usually she's such a
sourpuss!"

	"Oh, I don't know," responded the doctor.  "Maybe this is good for
her."

	"What do you mean?"

	"Well, look at her."  They both turned to look at the captain, who
was reveling in some other joke.  "She's really loosened up.  You know she's
been really taut the past few months.  There's a lot on her mind.  And
despite all your accomplishments at age ten, I don't think Jen's ready for
it at age nineteen."

	"Hey!  I was over nine hundred when the Black Moon came!"

	"Chronologically."  Sampson sighed.  "But that's a whole other
kettle of worms I *still* don't understand."

	"I'll try to explain it again later."

	"Good.  But keep an eye on the captain, Moon.  You can take a hint."

	"But-"

	"No buts.  See her?  For one night, she doesn't have to be Sailor
Orion, lord and mistress of H.M.S. Pleiades.  She can be Jennifer Sakachi, a
teenager who happens to be spending some time on a starship.  Give her a
chance at a childhood."

	"Don't talk to me about childhood, Doctor."  Conversation paused as
the main course was served.

	"You have no idea."