Moriarty, I presume

 Episode Name:  Moriarty, I presume
   Written By:  Starfleet
         Cast:  Duncan, Isole, Magret, Moore, Regina, and Tyler.
  Produced By:  Starfleet
  Directed By:  Starfleet
     Aired On:  Mon May 26 19:34:39 2003
     Stardate:  53243.1

Time: Tue Mar 18 23:42:47 2003

Stardate: 53078

Isole and Magret are escorted by two Starfleet security officers from the moment they step on board the Aegis, until they arrive to their destination - science lab two. The security officers stay outside, and the door closes, leaving the two Centauran women inside the lab. Across the lab, Duncan and Tyler are speaking to each other. Duncan holds in his hands a pale yellow cube that appears to be made of layers of isolinear sheets, about 16 cm to an edge. When the doors part for them, Tyler stands up and gives the Centauran women a smile. "Good evening," she says. "Isole Arnan, Magret Etena, this is Mycroft Duncan."

Duncan nods and smiles. "We've met, albeit briefly."

Isole offers a small lift of her hand as she lopes lazily into the room, bereft of equipment and her usual gadgetry. All the same, she's dressed for work in a black and zippered jumpsuit and her usual jauntily tilted beret. All the better for getting your fingers dirty. "Mycroft, Wendy, good to see you." Her first order of business is eyeballing -- well -- everything. Especially the Frankenmachine in the middle of the room. She never touches it, but she does crouch down to inspect it up close. "Lissepian." Her eyes shift a bit. "Ferengi.... Fed state of the art." She rises back to her feet, giving Tyler a curious glance. "That's pretty piecemeal, Wendy. What the heck is it?"

Duncan nods as the Centauran woman inventories the components of the device.

Magret follows after Isole, hands in the pockets of her jumpsuit, her own beret perhaps a little less jaunty than Isole's, her long hair braided back behind her head. She says in Centauran, "Hello," she offers, blinking widely as she turns her gaze around the room. While Isole focuses on the big machine in the middle of the room, she drinks in all the other details. Yin and Yang, or something like that. She says in Centauran, "Good to meet you, Meyh-croft Duhncahn." She mouths the new name carefully, as if she's taste-testing. Mmm. New name.

Tyler hitches up her shoulders at Isole's question. "I have no idea," she confesses. "It's part of the professor's personal effects." She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and regards the monstrosity. "It looks like a Rube Goldberg machine, though."

Duncan says, "And good to actually meet you Magret, We've spoken before but nothing more than a few words.""

"Huh." Isole eyes the item with a suspect squint, shaking her head in dismay. "Could be some sort of matter-holomatter induction device. Or, like, a short range holomatter transporter. I dunno. Could be a piece of junk, too." Isole steps away from the thing and slides her hands into the butt pockets of her jumpsuit, rolling her hips forward in a textbook working-person's stretch. "So. Where do we come in?" Right down to business is Isole, leaving Magret to chat the pleasantries.

Tyler gestures to the cube that Duncan is holding. "That is where you come in," she says, getting down to business too. "I need you to transfer a sentient holographic program from that Type II cube to the Aegis holographic systems, which are bleeding edge."

Magret crinkles up her forehead thoughtfully. She says in Centauran, "Really? I'd forgotten. I'm sorry. Good to really meet you, then." And she seems it. Once Isole requests, she turns her attention back to Tyler and her girlfriend, folding her own arms across her stomach and waiting to hear what it is, exactly, that's going on. At Tyler's explanation, she raises her eyebrows and glances aside at Isole.

Duncan steps within reaching distance of Isole and offers the cube for inspection.

Isole reaches into her jumpsuit and tugs out a clean rag with which to gingerly accept the cube of isolinear data storage. She eyeballs it for a moment or two before reaching into her pocket to pull out a magnifying eyepiece which she places in her left eye. It whirrs and focusses in on the cube, perhaps in search for surface anomalies or scratches to the exterior surface. "You know, it's funny what you said. Sentient holographic program. I've been trying to replicate spontaneous AI without the problems of rampantcy ever since I /really/ got into Holography. I lacked the practical science side of it... but. You know. Here I am. Holding a virtual head, for all intents and purposes." She glances up at Tyler and Duncan, panning her head between either as her little monacle whirrs for focus and gives a great look at her absurdly large pupil from their perspective. She widens her eye socket and drops her eyepiece into her hand, bird-glancing sharply at all of the equipment as though putting it all together. "Have you got any idea what's in here, guys? Cos if you don't, maybe it's best to leave Pandora's box in a loop, you know? This thin's a continuous feed program containment. It'll confuse any AI, rampant or no, of a contiguous reality which is actually... looping. So long as it's got power. Great for travel. Great for a prison, too."

"Of course we do. Professor Moore and his traveling companion are within the cube," Tyler says to Isole. "I need you to get them out and into our system, and in top operational condition."

"Ah. Well. You want them /in/ your ship's storage? These aren't any old EMH, you know. They can infiltrate. They can think. They can learn. They're... you know. Like people. If people were capable of mind-controlling starships." With that, Isole ambles over to the interface device, setting the cube down beside it. "First things first, I need a good diagnostic of this thing. If you don't have one, we need to run one. If there's damage to it, I need to know now. If she's fine, it's just a matter of data transfer and re-compilation on the new system. Easy as a line weld."

And, throughout, as is her idiom, Magret peers over Isole's shoulder and remains quiet. She, in fact, props her chin on the other woman's shoulder, looking down at the cube with undisguised curiosity and interest.

Duncan says, "The hardware itself should be in pristine condition, and I believe there is a current diagnostic that arrived with the inventory of items that were shipped in.""

"The holographic systems of this laboratory are self contained, and are not part of the ship's systems," Tyler says. She smiles slightly. "This lab has been designed to accommodate them, with them and their needs in mind. This is their new home. The professor will be doing some work for me."

"Yeah? And how does the professor feel about that." Isole glances over her shoulder at Tyler with an amused smirk before motioning a hand to Duncan. "Well. Cough it up, then, Mycroft. Time's wasting." All of this she does with a Magret-head perched upon her other shoulder. Her report card will read 'Works Well In Groups'.

Duncan chuckles and pulls out one of his ubiquitous PADD's and keys in a quick data transfer. "Would you like it in your personal storage or do you have a PADD handy?"

It's almost eerie, the way that Magret stays still and waits. She barely shifts at all, just looking down at the Type II with a weird sort of expression on her face, part curiousness, part sympathy, part apprehension, all jumbled together in a mix-and-match blenderriffic mishmash of shifting facial gestures. Other than that, however, she's patient and still, at least until Duncan speaks up. She reaches into a pocket of her jumpsuit and pulls out an old Centauran-make PADD, gesturing outward with it while leaving her chin on Isole's shoulder for the moment.

Tyler steps aside and allows the women to go to work. She clasps her hands behind her back and watches on.

Without even glancing at Magret's actions Isole notes, "Put it on Magret's PADD there, she can read it to me." Isole all at once just drops into a crouch, leaving Magret standing without apparent difficulty. Schwoop. In a crouch. She leans over the interface and blows away some dust before squinting with a small 'huh' noise.

Duncan nods to Magret and sends the data on over. "Your wish is my command."

Tyler and Duncan move to stand to the side of the lab and speak quietly together, not wanting to interrupt the Centaurans as they work. Tyler watches them from across the room, but it's not so much oversight of the two women as it is curiosity.

When the instructions are sent to her PADD, Magret begins reading them aloud to Isole in a fluid, thick-accented Centauran. Isole's crouch seems to bother her not at all, as this is the way of things with the two of them. They work together like, well, like they've been working together since birth. And they have. It rather gives the impression of two parts of the same machine.

The computer chimes as a result to Isole's query, "Diagnostic complete. No abnormalities in programming or hardware found."

<CONTEST> Magret (claiming advantage) contests her Computer (Holoprogramming) skill vs a difficulty of Routine and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Isole (claiming advantage) contests her Computer (Holoprogramming) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

Tyler continues to watch from across the room. As the computer reports to Isole, Duncan is called back to the station's DTI Field Office. Tyler gives him a nod as he departs, and she moves a little bit closer towards the workbench, to get a better view of their work.

Isole smiles pleasantly at the results of the diagnostic, glancing back over her shoulder with a wink, mumbling back to Magret in their native tongue. "Looks like Mycroft was right. The cube is viable, as is the data. All we need to do is make a home for the thing." Isole looks back to the cube and finally sets it soundly into its base, connecting all the necessary cabling and the like. Once the cube is connected to the ships's computer, Isole hops back up and moves to a lab terminal and begins poking at it. She continues on in Centauran, "Magret? Monitor the transfer from your end, there. If there's any failsafing, pull the cube and we'll work around it." She cues up the transfer and taps it active, glancing back to Magret, "Okay. We're running."

As she is instructed, so she does, "Got it, baby." She's intent on her work, now, monitoring with the unblinking stare of a cat watching a particularly tasty bird, and barely remembers to nod her head once Isole confirms that they're running. "Mmm-hmm." Green light... green light... and still she stares.

Tyler approaches the terminal where the two women work. She smiles to them both. "Excellent work. How long do you expect the transfer and re-compilation to take?" she asks.

"Well," Isole says somewhat stallingly, "if this were your surfing simulation, and that were a iso-chip, and this were my holodeck, I'd say a few minutes and offer you coffee. As this is something for which I've signed away my rights and for which you've given me and my girl, there, immunity from birth to contract signing? I'm going to be just a touch more thorough than all of that. We've got a level five diagnostic running parallel to the transfer, checking for inconsistencies in the data between the cube and your storage systems here on the Aegis. That's slowing it down a bit. Once the data has been moved viably, I'll need to tweak your compiling protocols to handle the older data." She taps open a new screen and sets to work on that presently. "Which I am doing now." Magret receives a wink at this point. "So maybe ten minutes." A beat. "I work better with coffee."

She can practically /feel/ the wink, even if she's not looking away from her console at the moment, and can't understand what it is that Isole's saying, exactly, and so Magret grins slightly. It's all in Isole's vocal tones, after all; those she knows quite, quite well. The Centauran clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth a few times, and quietly 'doop ee doop's under her breath. It's a little song. It goes 'doop ee doop ee doop doop eedily doop.'

"I can call and have coffee sent to us. Or we can retire to the galley for a few minutes and I'll brew you a cup," Tyler says. She grins slightly. "I keep a well-stocked galley."

"Oh, you're no fun," Isole says with a small stomp of her boot, "but why don't you send out for coffee? And those little pastry thingies with the fruity bits." Isole adds to that for Magret's benefit, "And one or two with the green leafy bits and the cheese." Isole bobs her head twice and motion Tyler a bit closer, pointing at the terminal screen. "As curious as I am, once this is done transferring, you can just poke that here and compile it. It's up to you if you want us here when you do that. There may be something in the code we're not seeing. I don't trust AI's that become this advanced, in general. They have a way of sneaking out of systems you think are safe. So my /advice/ is to have us around. But it's sort of my obligation to tell you that would, at this point, be a formality of precaution rather than necessity." With that said, Isole slides her hands into her pockets and rocks on her feet a bit.

Magret continues to quietly watch her display, but she does smirk at 'fruity bits.' Apparently it's one of the few things in Fed Standard that she understands. She continues to sing under her breath, doop ee dooping her way through a little improvised tune.

Tyler nods to Isole a few times. "I hired you because I need you around," Tyler says. "I want you to compile it, I want you to maintain it, and ultimately, destroy it if it attempts to commandeer the main computer of the USS Aegis. This lab runs off of a tertiary computer core that is unintegrated into any shipboard systems. Even the power grid of this room is built to be isolated from the main power grid. This lab is totally independent, it has to be. For the very concerns you mentioned. I appreciate your candor in the matter, though." She steps off to the side a moment to order the coffee, and the fruity bit things. The ensign taking the order is naturally confused, but he says he will do his best and reports out. For her part, she orders nothing. Once finished, Tyler returns to the conversation by stepping back into it.

"Sure, Wendy, but... Listen, wireless networks exist. Our PADDs work on that principle. And while free standing now, it's imperative that you keep this place data clean once the AI is up and running. If these AI can manage to interface with your PADDs, even your communicators, they can get a signal out of here and onto the Aegis main core. Don't think of this like... like a prison. Think of it like a quarantine and take precautions accordingly. You want every possible vector of contamination removed from the site. When you go in, you go in clean. When you leave, you leave clean. I can try to program safeties into the program, encrypt them and failsafe them and do about ten different things to make them function. But if this AI is all you say it is? He'll be two thousand times faster than me, twice as smart, and two steps ahead. I'd declare this a no-tech lab. Nothing comes in, nothing comes out. And I'd have our PADDs, communicators, everything removed before we compile and load." Isole notes all of that seriously. "You hired me for my expertise, and my expertise is paranoid right now." It's an apologetic explanation, but such is the way.

Magret continues to monitor the systems, politely remaining out of it for the time being. Of course, she's missing out on large portions of the conversation, but she seems more than content to let Isole handle all of this and simply continue as she has been for now.

Tyler nods at Isole's recommendation. "Before we bring it online, then, I'd like you to do a thorough security check to make sure that this lab is one-hundred percent isolated. I agree about the precautions you wish to take. We've not gone into this penny-wise and pound-foolish," she says, whatever that means. Must be Terran. However the context is clear - 'we're not idiots'. "The specs for the lab and integration into the Aegis, came from the technicians at his previous post in conjunction with the designers at Utopia Planetia. Please continue with what you have to do, because I'm not going to have the hubris to say that 'sure, it works perfectly.' I hired you to make sure."

Isole switches back to Centauran at that point, "Magret? We need to clear the lab of all network tech. Communicators, PADDs, the works. If you could check over the lab, here, and clear anything that isn't either isolated to the local network or integral to the function of our work here, that would be great. I'm going to start building up failsafes on the local here, and time's an issue." Isole smiles sweetly, then notes to Tyler in Centauran, "Mags is going to clear the room, so she's going to be asking for your PADD and communicator. I'll be building up the failsafes, here. If he was stable at his last post, then I want to add to what they've reccomended. He'll have learned and adapted. And may have had a way out already in mind." With that, Isole switches windows again and sets to work with rapidfire tapping of her fingers.

GAME: Isole spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Isole (claiming advantage) contests her Computer (Programming) skill vs a difficulty of Impossible and Succeeds!

And so she does. Magret nods her head once, and then goes about clearing the lab. She works in a contented silence, and, in fact, seems to be happier than Tyler has ever personally seen her, in her own way. PADDs are taken and stacked together, and as she works her way around the room, she eventually comes to Wendy, at which point she extends her hand, palm-up, and waits patiently. Mags can communicate just fine, even if she doesn't speak the language.

Tyler taps her badge before giving it away, having two security guards meet them at the doors to collect gear and standby for further instructions. "Let me get you a box," she says, and rummages under the work bench until she finds a container large enough to hold all the gear. Dumping her PADD and compin into the box as she straightens up, she offers it to Magret for her to dump her load into.

Isole works furiously but seamlessly. Her work is intense, intent, and in the end, as intended. In Centauran she offers, "Swing by me, baby, and grab my gear. My PADD, the stuff in my pockets. I have a lot." Yes, while Isole is still working. Magret has hands, after all, and these two have an odd synnergy where time-saving is concerned. "I've constructed a cascading septonic algorhythm. Seven different non-related iterations of encryption that need to be broken before the AI can access its own core functions or the local network controls. For, like, removing safeties or turning this place into a fire-pit or similar. Each iteration of that algorhythm triggers the failsafing, which essentially kills all power. And failing that, ejects the data. To that end, I've partitioned the AI in a deep section of your core. Easy to find, nicely localized. He should pop out like a man's eyes at a groin kick if he tries anything on me."

Her brow crinkles initially, but once Tyler comes up with the box, Magret nods. Ahha. Gotcha. Magret grok now. She reaches into Isole's pockets while the other woman works and empties their contents into the box. "All right. I think I've got it now," she says in Centauran, and then delivers the box to the security guard at the door with perhaps a bit of reluctance.

Tyler goes back to watching Isole work. She seems entranced by the computer work. She smiles to herself, and to Isole, and asks, "They weren't lying when they said you were the best, were they? I'm pretty good with computers in general myself, but this puts me to shame. I'm impressed, Isole." She gives her another appreciative grin.

As Magret passes out the box, the delivering Ensign passes in the coffee and fruity-bit-thing order.

Isole murmurs a quiet, "Thanks, baby," when Magret comes by to collect her things, her fingers continuing their drum on the LCARS before her. She doesn't seem to mind Tyler looking over her shoulder at all. If anything, it's something of an assistance. How It Should Be in her brain. Of course she should be surrounded by people staring at her work. Naturally! When the compliment comes, Isole can't really contain her smile. "Yeah. I guess. I've stopped using this power for evil, however." She glances briefly back to Wendy, then once more to her work. "Don't, like, spread it around too much, though, okay? People assume I'm a vapid sex-kitten, and the assumption serves both of our ends, here." She tacks on after the fact, "I am, though. The best. At this, at any rate." Her fingers cease their tapping with a final poke and she backs away a bit to roll out her neck and stretch her arms. "Done. Fortunes, that was hot." Yes. Coding is a turn-on in her world.

Once she hands over the box of stuff, Magret steps back and finds herself a convenient place to lean. Now that her helping is finished, she's going to stay out of the way. But oooh, danishes! And coffee. Offering the Ensign her most brilliant Centauran smile, she picks up a cup of coffee and one of the danishes. Most of the time, Magret's working really hard to downplay her natural attractiveness, but for whatever reason, it's fun to turn that on like a switch every so often. That Ensign just got hit with the full brunt of it in the form of a smile which dissipates as fast as it appears. Ahem.

Tyler grins but takes an instinctive Hot-Vapid-Sex-Kitten-Step back from the console that Isole is at. "Wonderful. Then we will be ready to proceed with bringing him online after you do a full diagnostic of his quarantine, then? How much time do you need for this?"

Isole runs her hands back through her hair and lets out a long and slow sigh. It rattles, that sigh. She spends a moment shaking out her hair with her fingers before clearing her throat and smiling back to Tyler. "Mmm. A few days. Probably two, maybe three. I want to run a few tests on it, run my quarantine through its paces with a few invasive programs and the like. But. I need a break. Some coffee. Some danish." She glances back Magretward with an indicative shrug.

Turning away from the Ensign with a vaguely smug and satisfied look on her face -- not too different from a panther licking her chops -- Magret leans against an empty space of bulkhead for a moment, sipping her coffee and nibbling at her danish. She blinks back Isole and shrugs likewise, that ever-satisfied expression still on her face.

"Very well," Tyler says. "I've given you clearance to access the Aegis under guard. However, it is under the caveat of your sticking to this lab. Once you reach here, your guard will remain outside. So feel free to come and go as you require. Just let me know when you are ready to bring the hologram online." She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and smiles to Magret at their interaction with each other.

"Shouldn't be a problem. There's nothing here that I'd particularly want to be around that I can't program back at my shop. Strictly business." Isole glances about the lab, nods her head in a satisfied manner, then offers Tyler a wink. "I'll be back in a few hours to start running my simulations. Will your team know about my work here? As in, will they be hanging around? I'm not averse to it. Sort of looking forward to it, actually. I just want to know if my NDA extends to them as well." Isole begins backing towards Magret, still facing Tyler, hands in her pockets. Tum te tum te.

Tyler gives a nod to Isole's question. "I'll filing a report to have them come by and say hello. If they are part of the station's Rapid Response Unit, they are cleared to know."

Magret nibble danish with fruity bits. Drink coffee. She offers Tyler a half-smile, then, and watches Isole's movement toward her with an amused sort of expression.

"Good. I want to see the look on Dylan's face when he realizes I provided an integral service to your United Federation of Planets. Like a good little resident." Isole's smile turns briefly smug prior to her backing up continuing past Magret, pausing only to snag her by the back of her tunic and drag her along for the ride. "Back in a while, Wendy. This was fun!" The doors hiss open, then closed, and the pair are gone.

Tyler watches the doors curiously as they depart. She shakes her head. "What have I gotten myself into," she says with a smile, then shrugs her shoulders. She turns back to the console, not to check over Isole's work, but rather to admire it.

Stardate: 53231.6

Isole has taken every precaution against possible rampancy, secured every possible outlet of the AI's into the Aegis main core, and has built in more failsafes to the system than even truly paranoid paranoids would likely consider prudent. And now that the day has come to meet her -- let's face it -- prisoners? Isole is a touch nervous. This has to be the third time she's gone over her diagnostics, struggling to find one more thing that could be better and failing. In the end, she glances to Tyler and puffs out a breath. "I hope you know what you're doing, Wendy. We can bring them on-line whenever you're ready. I've done all I can."

Magret, the ever-present Sexy Window Dressing, leans against a bulkhead, monitoring Isole's progress on an LCARS display while sipping coffee and occasionally glancing at her fiancee. She doesn't say anything, just monitors. Ooo.

Tyler flashes Isole a reassuring smile. "I promise, I do. If you've done your job, I have nothing to fear, no?" She straightens her jumpsuit and looks towards the empty floor near the workbench. "Let's do it."

Isole nods her head in a sort of abstract of comprehension. Her brain is lost in a sea of code at the moment that looks unnervingly like DNA in her heart of hearts. "Right. Let's meet our guests." She taps a few commands, an anticlimax of motion for the gravity of the moment, and glances upwards as the emitters begin to cycle. "We're coming online now. Initiating AI sequence." A single tap is made, and blindly, to the terminal before her. And things begin to take shape.

And from the sidelines, Magret continues to watch. She turns her attention now toward the emitters, continuing to glance aside at Isole with a pensive expression on her face.

Tyler waits patiently, staring at the point where Professor James Moore and his traveling companion will appear at any moment.

"...my dear, as I was saying, these Jem'Hadar brutes have hardly the intelligence of a Pakled. They're robots of flesh..." Moore is saying as he appears in front of the assembled group. A moment of disorientation comes and goes, and then he sighs and turns. "Decided that we'd been punished long enough?" he asks in a clipped British accent, eyeing the room critically. "Or have you decided that Professor James Moore can be of some use to your vaunted Starfleet again?" His tone is rather haughty, and he seems to be a bit indignant - probably because he's been locked up for a few months in that little holocube.

Tyler's comm badge chirrups, and a voice says, "Lieutenant Golden to Lieutenant Tyler."

Tyler steps forward and offers her hand, in 24th century fashion, to the notorious holographic Professor Moriarty, aka James Moore. "Professor Moore, I am Lieutenant Wendy Tyler, your new commanding officer. Welcome aboard the USS Ageis. This is Isole Arnan, the specialist assigned to working with your systems and her assistant," she says, gesturing at Magret. She then turns to look at Moriarty again. "I apologize for the delay in releasing you," she says. "We had to install the systems you specified, however. Everything should be as you requested."

Tyler holds up a finger and steps away. "If you'll excuse me a moment."

Tapping her comm badge, Tyler answers in a hushed tone. "This isn't the best time, Dylan."

"Well, yes, but I do think that... " Regina's smoother, more musical British accent fades into nothingness as her words dwindle away. She blinks once, orienting herself, and murmurs, "Oh my." After a moment spent brushing down her voluminous skirts as Moore snipes outward, she raises a gloved hand and rests it briefly on Moore's elbow. "James," she says softly, and in that single iteration of his name settles years of familiarity. The tilt of her head to the side and the glance at Tyler as she speaks, followed by the glance back at Moore, speaks volumes. See? Perfectly reasonable delays. Let's not be unpleasant, James.

From Tyler's comm badge, Golden quietly "Understood, my matter is pressing but will await your convenience. Golden out."

Tyler's comm badge ends its transmission.

Isole spends a long moment staring at the images that ripple into being before her, picking up a conversation where it was left, apparently. Her gaze shifts to Regina, then to Moore, then back to Regina again with an unconscious checking of her hair and a similarly unconscious adjusting of her dress. Her gaze falls to the terminal before her as Moore offers his rebukes, and she does little more than weather them when all is said and done. She glances up with a faint nod at her introduction, then returns to silent monitoring of her terminal with a creased brow.

Tyler turns back to the two new inhabitants of the USS Aegis. She offers them an apologetic smile. "Do accept my apologies," she says. She gives the Countess a respectful nod. "You must be the Countess Regina Bartholomew," she says. "Professor Moore spoke highly of you during his interview. I hope you will find everything comfortable."

Bristling to the moment of contact from the Countess, Moriarty allows himself to relax slightly. "At least you have the decency to apologize, and I do thank you for that" he grouses, tugging on his suit. "Please accept my most sincere apologies for losing my temper just now. It doesn't behoove a gentleman to behave in such a fashion, especially toward such lovely ladies as yourselves." His eyes shift to look at Regina, eyebrows perking for just a moment before he looks back to the others - no one's being unpleasant, dear... not yet, at least.

"I am," replies Regina, nodding her head with its wide-brimmed hat in Tyler's direction. "Wendy, was it? like that delightful Barrie book. How very charming. And Isole Arnan, was it?" She eyes Isole's dress with a little bit of perhaps trepidation (so much uncovered /skin!/) but opts for the diplomatic route at the end, offering a brilliant smile that practically puts off Culture Rays. *zoich* "That dress /does/ so highlight your eyes. Very pleased to meet you." She turns her attention back to Moore, offering him a briefly affectionate, 'oh, you don't fool me' sort of glance. It's tempered by his apology, however, and turns approving at the end. There's a good man.

"Thank you," Isole murmurs from her station, "my girlfriend loves it." Stick that in your corset, missy. While the reply fails to be catty, it does dig its heels in. Right there. Over the terminal in which they exist in a living symmetry of data. But politely so, in that 'I am what I am' sort of sense. She tacks on towards the end, after a suitable meaty pause, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Countess. Professor."

Tyler watches the exchange between antique and ultra-modern woman curiously. She arches her eyebrow. How will the Holographic Royalty respond?

Moore inclines his head slightly to Isole, replying with a grandiose, "Likewise, Miss Arnan," before turning his full attention on Tyler - thankfully missing the girlfriend comment that would likely send him into a holographic seizure. "Now, Leftenant Tyler... did everything that I had on my manifest make it here from Starbase 136? Most of what was on that list was vitally important to my highly critical work... not to mention a bit of a pastime whilst I'm confined to a single room." Eyes wandering over the conglomeration of machinery near the bench, James allows himself a brief smile. "I do see that you managed to get my toy here in one piece, as well."

Tyler offers a smile to Moore and turns her attention to the arch criminal and away from whatever catfight is about to break out. "Yes, we were very careful in moving it," she says, looking down doubtfully at the contraption. "But here it is. Requisition parts you need through standard channels. When you and the Countess are settled in, we can go over your briefing." She gestures toward the door. "Through that door is your personal holodeck, which you and the Countess can set up as you choose. The systems all tie together, so there is no need for you to transfer across to it. Simply walk through the door."

"Oh, that's just lovely! I do so enjoy shopping with my girlfriends," Regina effuses, removing her gloves and folding them both into her left hand rather precisely, their fingertips dangling out just so. "Obviously, you both have excellent taste in color choice." If you listen carefully, you can hear the WHOOSH as the ultra-modern implications of the word 'girlfriend' fly right over her perfectly coiffed head. "And a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Arnan." She falls silent, then, shifting her gloves to her right hand and tucking her left into Moore's elbow.

It occurs to Isole that this conversation of clarity, if it indeed is ever had, will be had sometime AFTER tea. The heels remain dug into the ground on her side of who she is, and she seems inclined to allow Regina the same. Obliviousness and all. "I enjoy shopping for them a bit more," Isole says truthfully but within the established paradigm, "but it's good that we have some common ground." She glances down at her dress, then back up to Regina's prior to examining the woman's features. "I think you look like a perfect lady, myself." Her smile even manages sincerity when it's offered as she assumes the secondary role in the discourse. Engaging the countess while Tyler talks shop.

Moore starts poking and prodding at the contents of the lab as he circles. "Lovely, Leftenant... most excellent indeed," he breathes before glancing at the holodeck doors. "I would prefer the briefing to be on the morrow, if at all possible. It's always hard to settle into a new holodeck." Turning back to Tyler, he smiles. "Perhaps we'll hang a 'Home Sweet Home' placard above the door."

"Whatever floats your boat, Professor," Tyler says with a slight grin. That goes for the other conversations in the room too. "Take as much time as you need to get settled as you like. We'll get you briefed at yours, and the Countess' convenience." She bows slightly to him then turns toward Isole. "How's their cohesion? Any destabilization between the transfer?" she asks her in lower tones so not to be rude to the holograms.

"Why, thank you ever so much, Miss Arnan. This is my favourite traveling dress," Regina demures, letting go of Moore's arm so he can pace. Her expression stiffens ever-so-slightly at Tyler's words, and she turns away herself, examining the panels and displays of which she can't make heads or tails.

<PROVE> Regina has the merit of Excellent Hearing at 2.

Isole glances aside at Tyler for a moment, sending a smile towards Regina as she comments on her dress. Her attention, however, returns to Tyler for a long moment, clearly weighing how best to answer the question. She turns to glance down at the data before her, takes in a breath through her nose, and releases a sigh, finally flicking her gaze up to the holographic images before her. "Professor? Countess? How do you feel? Anything I need to be concerned about?"

Moore turns back to Regina, offering an apologetic smile. If only... and swivels to face Isole. "Marvelous for myself," he replies with a nod.

Regina's rather brittle smile back to Moore is carefully concealed from Tyler and Isole by the brim of her large hat. She composes herself before turning about with a rustle of skirts and folding her hands together around her gloves, offering another one of her cultured smiles. "Perfectly lovely, thank you ever so much for asking, Miss Arnan. I do not think there is anything to be concerned about, myself. Thank you again."

Tyler approaches the bench, then, and leans against it. "Alright. If you ever start to feel out of sorts, feel free to contact Isole. If you need anything from me, anything at all, do not hesitate to ask. I'll make sure the crew knows you are here, and I'll let them know to come by and see you."

"If either of you notice any changes -- as Lieutenant Tyler has said -- in the other? Personality changes, absent memories, forgotten skills, languages that you can no longer speak, things of that nature? I need for you to contact me at once. I am on call all the time, around the clock, so don't hesitate to call on me. Consider me your physician with as much investment in your health and welfare as that sort of person and I don't imagine we'll have much difficulty interacting." Isole smiles reassuringly to both before glancing down at the data before her again and offering Tyler a single nod. Looks fine.

With another tug on his suit, Isole recieves Moore's most charming smile. "Thank you, Miss Arnan," he replies before offering a half-bow. "You honor us with your kind words and gentle manner." He then turns to Tyler with a nod. "And to you as well, Leftenant Tyler - my most profound thanks as well. Hopefully, this is the start of a most beneficial relationship."

"Of that, Professor, I have no doubt," Tyler says. "If you will excuse me, I must see what my executive officer requires of me." She gives them both each a bow at the waist and looks to Isole. "I'd like a full diagnostic when you get the time. Good evening," she says to Isole. "Good evening," she echoes to Moore and the Countess.

The response from the Countess is a polite little curtsey which looks oddly as if she's being lowered just a little on a platform under the floor, save that her head inclines just so. Her spine remains straight, she remains upright. Were it not for that inclination of her head, it'd look like she could balance a book on her head while she does it. "Thank you terribly much, both of you. It is as James says, of course. You've been terribly kind. I do hope you all work well together."

Regina appends, "Good evening, Leftenant Tyler. Do enjoy."

With a slight inclination of the head, Moore acknowledges Tyler's departure. "A pleasant evening to you, Leftenant."