Things had been going so well too. Quar was placated, and they'd started their lessons. The drills so far had gone smoothly and Novasurge was indeed operating at optimal levels. If her luck could have just held out, Isabelle was sure that she could mollify her mother and keep her from looking too closely at her timesheets over the next days.

Of course, she should have known that Luck and her had a toxic relationship.

Time seems to slow as the projector is rattled free from her pocket. Her eyes only able to track it as it bounces across the cockpit floor before rattling to a stop. Her brain so focused on launch trajectories and impact predictions that it doesn't even recognise what that small black object is until the recording starts playing. Her heart, happily beating along without a care in the world (it lives in delusion), can only seize up as the brown haired visage appears.

[i]Oh ... crap.[/i]

[i][b]===== EMERGENCY MEETING ======[/b][/i]

[i]Dozens of Isabelles crowd around the mindspace's central screen, each one watching in fascination as Asil's message plays out. Each one pushing and shoving at the others as they try to get a closer look. Elbows and shoulders are deployed indiscriminately and the resulting mosh pit is filled with cries and expletives, as well as less-than-useful commentary: 

"Her hair looks nice, has she done something to it?"

"I missed her eyes."

"Do you think we should've dressed better for this?"

"It's a projection, dummy, she can't see us."

"... I knew that!"

She's so caught up with just *looking* at the other woman, that the message manages to reach the end with most Isabelles still none the wiser as to the content. That is - until the single, dutiful, one at the typewriter finishes her transcript and hands copies out. One by one, the Isabelles read it, process it, and then get to work on the most important points.

"Us leading her on? When did we do that?"

"I thought she'd be more angry about the yelling."

"I don't want her to go."

"Does she ... like us like us? I think she likes us likes us guys!"

"She'd be better off without us ..."

"Shut up Self-Esteem, what have you done for us lately?"

"Does anyone care that I just shot down two more missiles headed for us?" Asks Reflexes, sitting alone in the corner. "No? Nobody? Fine, whatever."

"ENOUGH!!"

The chatter ceases as the one Isabelle shouts the rest into submission. She's dressed in business attire, her hair drawn back into a ponytail and wields her clipboard with authority.

"We don't have time to sort through all our baggage right now, people! Immediate action is needed!" she commands, before pointing towards one of the lower-ranked Isabelles.

"You there! Schedule an appointment this afternoon with Asil to 'Review her Sponsorship arrangements'"

"You there, take Creativity, Anger, Honesty, Doublespeak and Romance and get to work on what our script will look like when we see her. Make sure Fear proof-reads everything. Assume we will have witnesses."

"You! Go and lock Libido in a closet until this is over."

"The rest of you, I need wargame sims on Mother's likely reactions when word of this gets to her. We need contingency plans for what she's going to do when we [b]don't[/b] fire her."

"And Reflexes?" she says, before pausing as two more explosions sound in the distance. "... keep up the good work."[/i]