He takes a bit to calm down. "How do -?"

"Put it up to your mouth and press this button, and then breath in."

He takes it and nebulizes himself and then nods and scurries away.

Xeelia is.... confused.

"Those behaviors were rather unexpected. His responses were not in my medical model of his condition at all."

"Beep!"

Beep is helping.

"No Beep, I do not think it was excitement at the offer of cybernetic upgrades, that would not properly explain the further actions the patient took."

"Possible I should find a unit with more relevant expertise on organics."

"Beep."

"Negative. You are not a suitable expert. Aside from your similar cybernetic interface, you do not actually communicate information other than the meaning I ascribe to your beeps in order to act as a 'sounding board' for the ext-er-nalization of my thoughts."

"Beep."

"... Correction accepted. You beep at times correctly suited to my questions which indicates some basic communicative intent."

"Despite this I will still navigate to a organic expert to receive further clarification."

"Beep."

Xeelia pauses for a second.

"... several processes within my computational substrate indicate that she would be a viable option, affirmative."

"Beep."

After their shift, Xeelia and Beep board a shuttle back to Keetim.

Other parties visiting Keetim from the surface of Katme are segregated - not insurmountably, but there are two compartments, one for born-cleans and one for reds, just to avoid any discomfort that could escalate in a way you really want to avoid on a spaceship.

Xeelia will get a much better reception in the reds compartment.

Luietenant Commander Lucien has informed her she should be using the red compartment for transport so she does as instructed.

The red compartment is pretty small and there only two other people in it, who don't seem to know each other.

Xeelia has no reason to initiate conversation. 

Eventually Xeelia gets to Keetim, where she attempts to locate the local expert organic she has memories of being competent and informative.

Head of Engineering Keeta is in her office, huddled over her desk, sketching out a new wing for visiting red dignitaries that Keetim will like.

And now a Xeelia is there too.

Keeta freezes up, briefly.

"... Hi. Meel-Xeelia."

Xeelia consults her internal memories banks for the appropriate way to greet this officer. 

This borg unit hugs Keeta.

Keeta startles, going stiff.

"... My memory logs indicated that you participation in this greeting now is non-standard?"