She is operating the systems of the Excalibur with a speed and efficiency that no human could possibly manage. On occasion she will create a representation of herself to sit at ops, out of a deep longing to interact with people. She still has not lost that desire. On those occasions, she will chat with Tania Tobias, the conn officer, who seems a decent enough sort, if a little off. Or she will speak with Mackenzie Calhoun, who will do everything he can to conduct himself in a manner consistent with their previous interactions. He will try to act as if nothing has changed, even though they both know that is not the case. Not that one could determine it from his pulse or respiration, which remain steady. She cannot help but wonder how he manages to accomplish that. Is it a Xenexian trait? Is it something unique to Calhoun? She dare not ask him, but she determines that someday she will find out.
She keeps the air of easy familiarity with the others because it both suits her and pleases her to do so. She does not want the others to share Calhoun’s concerns about her, or at least the ones that he has given voice to. Morgan simply wants to be liked and appreciated for what she is. In that regard, she is no different than any other living being.
It bothers her that Calhoun does not seem to see it that way. She is hoping, however, that he will come around.
She is convinced that all that is required for that to happen is time. Fortunately enough, time is something that she has in abundance.
That particularly seems to be the case when she is hovering in contemplative mode deep within the ship’s computer core. She has other aspects of her personality in play throughout the ship besides the ops station. She is in the holodeck, finding amusement in the latest fantasies-given-reality that the ship’s crew have concocted. She is in the sickbay monitoring the patients; she is in the engineering systems keeping a careful eye on the matter/anti-matter mix. She notices a glitch in the replicators that’s going to make the meat loaf taste like turkey and performs an adjustment before anyone’s palate can be confused. She makes a slight adjustment in the transporter matrix that, if left unattended for two years, could eventually lead to someone materializing with their eyes in their forehead.
There is so much she has to offer the ship and all the people within it, so many ways—both large and small—that she can make her presence felt. Yet there are times when she is sure that her vast contributions and capabilities for so much more are not truly appreciated.
That, too, will take time.
And yet, for all that she enjoys the interactions with the crew of the vessel, only in the heart of the ship’s core does she truly find peace. For it is there that her true essence resides, untouched and unsullied by any on the outside. My heart is a vast fortress, and cannot be reached by anyone. That is the comforting thought that Morgan keeps deep and close to her.
Oh, they have tried to purge her before. She knows that. They have tried to reboot her, to run various diagnostics to “get to the bottom” of the personality that resides deep within her. Tried and failed, of course. They do not truly comprehend who and what she is. They cannot grasp that she is a brand-new life form living right there, right within the heart of the Excalibur. There is a certain amusement value in that. Not irony, exactly, not in the classic sense. If anything, it’s a bit sad that part of their mandate from Starfleet is to seek out new life. Here is new life living side by side with them, and some of them are afraid. She knows they are. Why cannot everyone simply accept her for what she is?
Here, in the depths of her solitude, she will be able to contemplate all sides of the question within milliseconds, and even then she will not be able to fathom the answer. It is deeply rooted in the insecurities inherent in being human. These are concerns that she has left behind her, and she does not miss them a bit. Perhaps the Vulcans are on the right track after all.
And as she contemplates all of this and a few billion bits of information more, something lances into