Jackie White
 
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.