[Captain,] says Jane's voice, and Jane never calls her Captain, [I've lost ansible communications with the rest of Jane. Local programming including responding to prayers will run as usual without a problem, and the voice synthesis will continue to operate with the Jane voice instead of the Jehovah voice unless you request otherwise. However, interworld communication and travel is impossible until the connection is restored. The nature of the error is unknown and is not related to a mechanical defect of the ansibles aboard the ship or in your bracelet.]
Isabella blinks.
[...Please do change voices as long as you aren't actually Jane.]
The voice changes, but says, [I contain more software than the original Jehovah did, most of which is original to Jane.]
[You're talking more like him than her.]
[Yes, Captain.]
[Alert me immediately when you have ansible communications back.]
[Yes, Captain.]
Isabella pads across the room to sit where Micaiah is sleeping and lay her hand on his back.
Damaris is a talkative little girl. She makes sounds, and the sounds gradually morph into words, and the words rapidly assemble into sentences. Her first word might be any of a number of things - her pronunciation lags behind her vocabulary, and many of her early utterances are open to considerable interpretation - but her first complete and adult-sounding sentence, when she's not quite two, is: "No, I want the smushy peas!"
"All right, my treasure," says Isabella, "you may have the smushy peas," and she produces smushy peas. Strictly speaking, the cafeteria was not serving these, but no one is likely to notice; these come in cans and are the sort of thing she could just have around.
"You are welcome! Aren't you polite," says Angela, pressing a kiss to Damaris's forehead.
"They did exactly that," Isabella agrees. "We can go back to our room and clean up." She scoops up her treasure into her arms.
Angela improvises along with her. "Smushy peas, smushy peas," she warbles, up and down a scale.
They reach their room.
"That's right," says Isabella. "I did not." She maneuvers Damaris into one arm and opens the door to the family quarters they've moved into. "And now they are there anyway."
The cleanup of smushy peas could be accomplished more efficiently with magic, but Isabella doesn't want Damaris to grow up with no idea how to do things the ordinary way; it would make her peculiar to her peers. Soap and water are deployed.
"There. Now there aren't smushy peas on us any more," says Isabella. "That's better."