Commander Qaren calculated, based upon the length of our time jump into the past and the duration of time we spent to catch back up with the present, that today my age measures exactly nine standard Terran years. As such, she has arranged a "birthday party" ritual for me. I was given a variety of gifts and foodstuffs, most of which were replicated and consequently could have just as easily been replicated by me, but … some of them were so cute! I excused myself to another room and had the computer soundproof it with whitenoise audio dampening before squealing with delight.
Mommy Evil Storvik and Auntie'Vit seemed to be avoiding each other. They think that I don't notice, but during the many years when the four of us lived by ourselves on the Ankh, the friction between the two of them was often obvious even to me. In this case, I assume it has something to do with the fact that Mommy Storvik will be going away for a while. No one talks about it (at least, not in front of me) but I can't imagine a worst-kept secret.
Speaking of secrets, however, I wrote up a full report on my experiences controlling and repairing Counsellor Lothar (omitting only the side effects of the T'Lothvik mind meld) and sent it to the Starfleet Intelligence Research department of the Daystrom Institute (whose logo I saw on some of Lothar's inner workings). They classified the entire report Top Secret and ordered me not to discuss it with anyone outside of the USS Murgatroid's command staff (all of whom knew the story already anyway). I'm no stranger to secrets, as the Vulcan Science Academy considers my genitalia to be classified. In any event, the Daystrom Institute apparently felt that a bribe was in order, and I was certainly not going to tell them otherwise, because they conferred upon me an honorary degree – my first! I am now Doctor T'Sorvik.
I only wish that Qaren would stop calling me "Doogie", or at least explain the reference.