Miscommunication

by Ragua
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.

A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute


Chapter 3

Trip sat in his quarters in the cross-legged Tal t'li pose with the PADD on the floor next to a meditation candle that T'Pol had lent him for his He was not, however, practicing his meditation.

The sehlat is black, Hoshi's Vulcan language program informed him.

Sehlat nesh-kur, Trip responded obediently along with the computer's voice.

The le-matya is white, the program continued.

Le-matya wan-kur, Trip echoed.

The engineer had only been working on his language lessons for a few days, but he was already becoming discouraged. So far, all he had learned was that the sehlat was black and small, and the le-matya was white and big. Both were apparently animals that lived somewhere on Vulcan, but that was all he knew. According to Hoshi, one animal was a cuddly pet and the other was a vicious Vulcan-eater, but which was which mattered a great deal less than his ability to pronounce their names correctly.

The linguist's priorities made no sense to Trip. He certainly thought it was a lot more important to know which animal was likely to eat you than how to say its name right before it ate you.

The engineer tried to return his attention to the lesson. T'Luki and Sonok are working, the computer voice droned on.

T'Luki heh Sonok fi' ar' kadan.

T'Luki and Sonok are working in the field today.

Nash-gad T'Luki heh Sonok fi' ar' kadan svi' solai.

Even worse than the sehlat and his le-matya buddy were T'Luki and Sonok. Those two did nothing but work, work in the field, work very hard. Sometimes they were cold and wet, other times warm and dry, but the program never explained how they got that way.

Trip envisioned the boring Vulcan couple falling into a raging river and then recuperating by a cozy campfire. That probably wasn't what happened, though, he thought sourly. No doubt they got wet because they worked—worked hard, worked in the field—during a rainstorm. Then went home for plomik soup where they were warm and dry.

Trip made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and slapped out the flickering candle with the palm of his hand. T'Luki and Sonok were a couple of morons. If he had a phaser, he would stun them both. And the sehlat. And the le-matya. He didn't give a damn which one was cuddly and which one was vicious.

The thought of blasting away with a phaser gave Trip an idea. He switched the language program off and called up the Vulcan-Standard dictionary. He had the rudiments of the sentence structure down. All he needed were some real words.

Phaser. Wek-zehlek. Shoot. Pohshau. Ha! Trip smiled to himself.

Pohshau nash-veh wek-zehlek na' T'Luki heh Sonok.

Much better! Trip thought cheerily. Then he frowned. It probably wasn't a good idea to go around phasering Vulcans, no matter how irritating and imaginary they happened to be. Maybe he should just shoot the sehlat. Or the le-matya. Trip's frown deepened. No, he'd feel guilty if he shot the cuddly one by mistake.

Trip sighed. Better leave the shooting to Malcolm, he thought. I'm an engineer, not a gunfighter.

This, however, gave him another idea. He searched the dictionary again. There it was!

Nash-veh mishek, Trip said to himself with a touch of pride. I am an engineer!

##########

Hoshi sat over a cup of green tea in the mess hall and rubbed her temples. These language lessons with Commander Tucker were going to drive her insane.

She knew she should be more patient. It had only been a week. Things couldn't be as bad as they looked right now. But... Hoshi sighed. In all her years of teaching, she couldn't remember ever having a student so inept! Or at least, none that stuck with it once they realized it was a lost cause. Commander Tucker was completely aware that he was hopeless, and yet he kept at it with a tenacity that both impressed and annoyed her.

I should have realized it from the beginning, she thought. T'hai'la and thel'a sound nothing alike! He couldn't even distinguish the difference between the glottal stop at the beginning of the first word from the th' sound at the beginning of the second!

Hard day, Ensign? a familiar voice asked. When Hoshi looked up, startled, the voice's owner misinterpreted her reaction. I'm sorry, Hoshi—Lieutenant! Malcolm Reed, a cup of tea in his hand, smiled in apology. Hoshi smiled back and motioned him to sit.

I've just gotten started on a new project, Hoshi answered. It looks like it's going to be pretty tough, so I was just sitting here giving myself a pep talk. Hopefully that would be specific enough to satisfy him and vague enough to keep him in the dark.

Malcolm eyed her over the rim of his mug as he took a sip. Is that the project you're working on with Commander Tucker? he asked innocently.

Hoshi sat dumbstruck. She should have realized that very little occurred on the ship that the sneaky, suspicious Armory Officer wasn't aware of. How much did he know? Should she go along with him, or feign ignorance? she queried, trying to buy some time.

Well, you've been spending quite a bit of time in Engineering lately, Reed responded. He shifted his weight in his chair. Was he uncomfortable about something? Hoshi wondered. And I'd noticed that the two of you have taken quite a few meals together here in the mess hall. He raised his eyes to hers as he took another sip of tea.

Hoshi stared at him. He seemed almost embarrassed. Oh my God! she realized suddenly. Does he think...?!?!

What are you implying, Lieutenant? she snapped. Malcolm looked as if he couldn't decide whether to feel guilty or defensive.

It's just that the two of you are spending a lot of time together. When you talked about the new...project...I just naturally assumed that it had something to do with Commander Tucker.

For the staid Armory Officer, this waffling response was the equivalent of screaming out loud that he suspected his fellow bridge officers were carrying on a torrid affair. Hoshi was aghast at his unwarranted assumption. There were so many things she would have liked to say to him, first and foremost, Mind your own damned business! followed quickly by, Get your mind out of the gutter, you smarmy British perv!

If she were completely honest with herself, what she would have liked to say most was, Why should you have a problem if other people on board think I'm worth violating that non-fraternization rule for, you gutless wonder?

Facial expressions must have accompanied all her potential responses as she considered them, because Lieutenant Reed was looking slightly alarmed when she refocused on him. She narrowed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose. Malcolm looked as if he expected steam to accompany the exhalation.

Well, you know what they say about people who assume things, Lieutenant, Hoshi finally answered. It was a cliché, but at least it wouldn't get her busted for insubordination. She picked up her mug and stalked off.

##########

Trip was actually enjoying his meditation session with T'Pol, although it couldn't be said that he was actually meditating. His practice sessions had helped him learn to sit in the correct pose without losing sensation in his lower extremities. His Vulcan lessons gave him something to occupy his mind while he spent the time watching his t'hai'la do her thing. There certainly were worse ways to spend an evening!

T'hai'la, he enunciated the word carefully to himself, pronouncing it as Hoshi had taught him. Tuh-high-lah! There really wasn't a th' sound to it, unless you said it really fast. No wonder T'Pol got mad at him for screwing it up so badly.

He took the opportunity to gaze her from under his eyelashes, admiring her in Vulcan. Or at least, what little Vulcan he knew.

Her bezhun were closed, but he considered them the most beautiful he had ever seen—even when she was giving him The Stare. That he appreciated her bru, particularly the lower one, went without saying. Her delightful little pointed kaluk had always fascinated him. And while he didn't agree with Malcolm on much, the guy certainly had a point about her nice pla'kruslar. Not to mention her really fine pair of—

Commander, why do you find it necessary to stare at me? T'Pol's severe voice brought him back to reality.

Caught in the act, Trip panicked. How did she do that? Think fast, Tucker. Unfortunately, Trip couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't make the situation worse. Even the truth.

A human woman would be flattered if he told her he had been distracted by her beauty, but T'Pol? Not a chance. No matter how eloquently or romantically he might state his case, T'Pol would hear his excuses as, My undisciplined human mind can't focus on the meditation because I'm gettin' all hot and bothered checkin' out your bod.

Which was pretty much true. Trip sighed in frustration.

I believe that I have been precipitous in inviting you to join me in meditation, T'Pol finally filled the silence. You are obviously not ready for Vulcan discipline.

Trip shook his head, unwilling to admit defeat. I just need more practice. I can do this, T'Pol. He looked her squarely in the eye. I want to get this right, cause it's important to you!

It has been more than a week, and you have yet to get it right,' T'Pol responded stonily. What is the likelihood that you will ever do so?

Trip opened his mouth to protest the injustice of her harsh response, but as he frantically searched his brain trying to figure out the right thing to say, T'Pol took advantage of his silence.

Have you actually been practicing? the Vulcan accused.

Trip affirmed stoutly, despite being somewhat off balance from her unexpectedly aggressive reaction. Every night before I go to sleep. That wasn't a lie. He practiced his Vulcan every night.

T'Pol, however, seemed to have a sixth sense where he was concerned. She eyed him coldly, skepticism evident in her face. It wasn't The Stare. It was something worse. Trip felt something akin to fear. You practice meditating every night? she asked in a deadly voice.

Trip opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. There was no right answer to this question. She had trapped him. T'Pol narrowed her eyes at his failure to respond. Abruptly, she got to her feet, blew out all the candles, and began to put away the meditation cushions.

Vulcan meditation takes a great deal of time, discipline, and commitment, she stated as she tidied up her quarters. It is apparent that you are deficient in these qualities.

Trip protested, but she went on as if he was not there.

Perhaps it is self-control you lack, she continued, looking at him with distaste. Perhaps the hours you have been spending with Lieutenant Sato limit the time and the commitment you can dedicate to your T'Pol continued to eye him coldly. Whatever the reason, I most certainly have erred in asking you to join in my cultural traditions. Suddenly, she looked sad. I have been foolish.

Trip was blindsided by her words. He felt as if she had clocked him with one of her little Vulcan statuettes. Suddenly, the full import of what she had said hit him, and he leapt to his feet.

You...you think...me and Hoshi, he was inarticulate with rage and indignation. You think we're...messin' around? When T'Pol did not answer, he asked again, enunciating slowly and carefully in a manner that would have impressed the Communications Officer. You think I'm having an affair with Hoshi?

T'Pol covered her feelings with a cloak of indifference and Vulcan stoicism. What I think about your interactions with your crewmates is irrelevant. As first officer, however, I would advise you to be more discreet, given Starfleet regulations.

Trip was having none of it. Don't give me that non-fraternization crap, T'Pol. You think I'm messing around on you. Do you really think I would do something like that to you? To us? Do you really believe—

T'Pol interrupted him. Trip pulled up short, and they glared at each other for no more than a heartbeat. Then T'Pol pulled the rug out from under him. There is no

Trip gasped in disbelief. Rage, indignation, denial, anguish, despair. He didn't know which emotion to feel first. But it really didn't matter, because T'Pol turned her back on him.

It would be best if you left now.

Stunned and hurt, Trip did as she asked.