Josephine's concentration is shattered with the ship's alarm klaxon. She had been deep into the delicate and temperamental calculations of her research, her mind holding an entire genetic algorithm, and nudging it carefully into the proper shape... or the theoretically proper shape in any case. Her intuition of a critical connection was flaring bright as the Founder's day fireworks during her childhood.
It's all gone in an instant, the entire thing washed out of her mind by sound nearly as irksome as her would-be brother in law's dramatic bombast. The mere thought of the hours of reconstruction work that she would require, assuming she found that particular thread again of the thousands of possible variants... She didn't wish to think on it.
Somehow managing not to dash her computer to the floor in a fit of pique, she hurriedly writes as much as she could remember about the particular construct, praying it will be enough to rediscover it when her environment is less distracting.
By the divine, did they really have to have that damn alarm running the entire time?
She looks at the data she had managed to capture, profoundly dissatisfied with it. Then she glances at the door of her cabin wondering just what trouble Foix had gotten them into now. Only a short time traveling with him and her prime observation was the trouble he seemed to attract called the randomness of the universe itself into question.
"The man is so theatrical, he manages to turn existence itself into rather torrid play." She mutters to herself.
Josephine considers her options. Naturally she wants to understand whatever the nature of the current predicament was but she has little doubt that the General had already taken charge, and she has, until now, done her level best to avoid him and his paramour as much as possible. This, of course, proved challenging on a small ship, but there was work to do anyway. Even so, the walls of her cabin often seemed to be closing in on her.
A polite but firm knock at the portal to Josephine's cabin. The steward, when cleared, entered. He was sweating, and flustered, but doing his job. "Ma'am, to keep you informed. We are still in battle conditions, and request that you remain in your cabin. Captain Smythe will keep us informed, and please let me know if you have any needs."
Josephine jumps at the knock and does her best to quell her racing heart as she nods her acknowledgement at the steward.
She tries to stay in the cabin but the more she waits the more agitated she becomes. She paces and wrings her hands. Finally she mutters a swear that would have appalled her mother and sighs.
"You are right yet again, Maman. I cannot abide the... the not knowing." She steels herself and makes her way out into the corridor and toward the bridge.
She is unsurprised at the gathering of people there. Between ex-military officers and noble-born passengers they are all used to being in charge, or at least deferred to. Foix certainly looks to be in his element. Miss Becker too, right at his side. Josephine does her best to not call attention to herself, lurking just inside the hatch, instead listening and watching to get the gist of the current situation, and as much specific data as possible. Boarding an AI controlled warship? Josephine mutters under her breath in her own dialect. It's another of those curses Maman would disapprove of.
)
Just some assumed prior knowledge of interior layout to apply only as and when it may prove advantageous).
