AN: In this one, I am – among other things – attempting to answer a question that has been bothering me.
Also, not a hair on Nyota's head is mine.
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Spock seemed to wait for something before staring on his dinner that November evening, and when Nyota looked up at him questioningly, he said: „There is one question I have been meaning to ask you for some time now, but I hesitated, not wanting to offend."
"There is no offense where none is taken, Esteemed Commander."
Spock blinked, then inclined his head. "It concerns your work. It is my understanding that universal translators are now used fleet-wide, on every ship. Under these circumstances, what is the purpose of a xenolinguist aboard?"
Now Nyota saw why he thought she might be offended. Not that he was the first to ask her that, on the contrary, it was the question xenolinguists were asked at the Academy all the time, and unanimously hated. But he, at least, was not asking sarcastically, and he had not already formed his own answer.
"Universal translators are approximate at best. It is true that in case of some very well known languages, for which we have enough data, they can even translate aphorisms and such, but usually, that is not the case. They are too literal, they often do not produce the correct word order, they cannot grasp the correct meaning of a word from context...they don't understand emphasis, they can't take into account body language...there are many problems."
He'd finally started to eat, and now he paused to ask: "But are they not widely used on ships? How is that possible, if they are so problematic?"
"Well, xenolinguists are not omnipotent either. We are limited by the number of languages we actually know. When meeting a new species, universal translators are invaluable. For communication with those, the best option is actually universal translator combined with a xenolinguist. I'm going to have a class on that next year, working with a universal translator. It gives us probable word meanings derived from speech patterns, and we work with it to understand better, to catch nuances, to perfect the translation into English, to take into account non-verbal communication – that's where this year's class on deducing meaning comes in. I think that is an interesting option. And universal translator is useful when encountering a language the ship's xenolinguist doesn't know. We are still trained to smooth the translation over, even if we don't know the language. There are some universal rules which can be applied."
"How so? When the language is completely unfamiliar..."
Nyota was rather enjoying that it was her who was explaining something to him this time around. "When there is enough time, the xenolinguist can actually search for some basic information about it. When there is not, they can at least transform the English sentences that are being translated into the clearest formulations that are easiest for the universal translator to deal with. We're trained in that very thoroughly, but it's all advanced classes I will have next year."
Spock nodded. "It is always fascinating," he said, "to learn details about a field of study with which I had very little contact. My own specialization is very broad, but there are still so very many things I know nothing about..."
Nyota smiled. "And imagine how I must feel, since my own field of study is very narrow."
He raised his eyebrow: "Supervised Ensign Uhura, you are studying ten languages. I do not think your field of study can be called narrow by any definition. If 'the borders of my language are the borders of my world', you are studying ten worlds at once."
The warm feeling that spread in her belly had, she was quite sure, nothing to do with the spicy pho she was eating for dinner. Well, she thought, once again a confirmation that I really do need compliments to feel good about myself.
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As Spock walked back to his quarters from the cafeteria, one moment from that dinner came to his mind. Ensign Uhura, stating in her impossibly perfect Vulcan: "Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim, pudor-tor zhel-lan." He was already used to her speaking his first language in a way which would make her pass for a Vulcan if she wasn't seen, but this was another level. The response was culturally perfect, perfect in intonation, it was simply, in all ways, precisely what a Vulcan would have said in her situation. It made him uncomfortable, if he allowed himself to admit it, because it reminded him of his youth on Vulcan. When his family said such things to him, it was always with a slightly chiding intention. There is no sense in talking about offense, Spock, they were really saying. Do not be so very human. Of course he knew, logically, that this case was different. He was communicating with a human, and so assuming she might take offense was a logical precaution. But he was still reminded of his childhood, and the fact that she, a human female, had the ability to remind him of it disquieted him. And there was another layer of confusion over it, too. Contrary to his relatives, she was not chiding. Her honorific carried the intonation of real respect. That added a twist to his childhood memories which he did not completely understand, and which contributed to his need to meditate a little longer that evening.
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Nyota's lazy Saturday morning with an Arcadian epic was interrupted by a call from her parents. Gaila was away somewhere, unsurprisingly, and Nyota was glad she had a moment to talk to her family in peace.
"How are you, Ny?" Her father asked the moment she greeted them.
"Fine, thanks. Relaxed. But missing sun, it's cold and rainy here. Exceptionally cold and rainy, I mean, even for San Francisco. This year has been pretty bad."
Her mother laughed. "It's a curse, isn't it? You get the most rain both there and here. The weather is lovely here right now."
Nyota groaned. "Please, tell me about it. I need to at least hear stories about sun."
"But you said you were relaxed, so apparently it's not so bad."
"No, everything's good. I'm doing all right with school work, enough that I can even afford curling up with an Arcadian book on a morning like this...there are no interesting news, though."
Her father smiled. "Any young men we should know about?"
Nyota winced. "No, dad. I'd tell you if there were."
There was an answering sigh. "Just don't live only for school, okay? You should enjoy yourself."
"I am. I like what I am studying."
"Not just like that."
"We go out with my friends from time to time, to drink and sometimes to dance, if that makes you feel better."
"It does, but I don't think it's enough."
Nyota closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she saw her mother pressing her father's forearm. "Let it go, Mutahi." She smiled at her daughter. "Just do whatever you want to do, and don't feel pressured."
Nyota nodded, but, as ashamed as it made her feel, she was relieved when the call was over.
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It was some time before there was an opportunity for Nyota to ask a question which had been bothering her for ages, and even more so lately. "A few weeks ago, you talked about the broad field you have studied. I confess I have looked at your curriculum vitae, and so I saw what your majors at college were. One thing confuses me, then: how did you get around to teaching Subspace Communication Problem Solving? It doesn't have much to do with your original specialization, does it?"
"No," Spock agreed. "But somebody has to teach it, and those who worked as science officers before are best qualified, since science officers are the ones expected to know how to deal with anomalies and suspicious things we encounter. And at any rate, it is not the only subject I tech, nor, I would say, the main one."
Nyota felt a little hurt by that, but firmly squashed the feeling. She really shouldn't be imagining she was some kind of his prize student just because she was the one who bothered him the most. "What other subjects do you teach, then? Something in the science specialization, I assume?"
"Yes, and one course for the engineers, too. Most of my courses actually deal with problem solving, because my experience on an actual exploring starship helps with it a lot. There is one course like that for the engineers and one for the scientists. Then, I teach advanced..." and now followed a word Nyota didn't know, "physics and..." and she despaired. This was precisely the situation she had hoped would never happen. She started to blush, and was glad that it didn't really show on her skin. But there was no way around it, she'd have to ask. She only understood the prepositions in the name of the second course. She firmly repeated to herself that they were actually having these conversations with the purpose of her learning Vulcan, and so not asking about Vulcan words she didn't know would be absolutely illogical – oh, the irony.
"I'm sorry, Esteemed Commander, I do not understand the words used in the names of your courses," she said, very quietly.
He raised one eyebrow. "Vunai-tor-tal is the study of regions of space characterized by a physical property. Ha'gal svi' wak'gal-zehl is the study of the role of the"...particle? She thought so "of light in interaction with the time particle. That is a very specialized subject."
"Couldn't you just tell me the English translations, please?"
The other eyebrow went up. Please, kill me now.
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AN. 'the borders of my language are the borders of my world' - Wittgenstein. Isn't it just like Spock to quote obscure 20th century Earth philosophers?
Also, that was the sort-of emotional reaction to Nyota's Vulcan I promised.
Um, and – review? Please?