the smallest motion filled with grace

They're reeducating her, so to speak. A little more prodding, a little less of the basics. After all, she already knows enough science through her creator (isn't V'ger one of its own, now?) to diagnose them as carbon units. Their music, their mysticism, their organicity does little, if anything, to entrance this new Ilia.

Still, Uhura sings. She hums, she gives her most graceful turns possible in the full-body Starfleet jumpsuits, she shapes the arcs of her fingers with strong, delicate pride.

Deeper than memory is pattern, always. Music usually makes you recall things you're not always ready to know.