A/N: All Vulcan words come from the Vulcan Language Dictionary, a useful website that has come in handy numerous times.

Day 5

Trip was beginning to rethink his decision to learn Vulcan. The language was a lot harder than he'd anticipated. But he wanted to make a good impression on T'Pol's mother, because he was sure that she would not like his accompanying her daughter. Especially because he had a feeling that T'Pol had neglected to inform her mother that he would be coming.

He'd brought the idea up to T'Pol as casually as possible, over breakfast that morning. She had been acting distant toward him, and he hoped that learning Vulcan would bring back some of the closeness they'd enjoyed during their neuro-pressure sessions. She had actually seemed thrilled that he was showing such an interest in her culture, and commented that it would probably be wise to know at least some of the basic phrases.

"My mother will no doubt be impressed that you took the time to learn," T'Pol had said. "Vulcan is not an easy language for many humans to master."

He quickly determined that to be the understatement of the century.

Trip gave T'Pol about an hour after breakfast for her to meditate and then went to her quarters. He went as quickly as possible and tried not to linger in the corridor, lest one of the other passengers see him calling on her. Aboard Enterprise, such a thing would be commonplace. But aboard the Vulcan shuttle, he didn't think an unsupervised human male visiting the room of a Vulcan female would be given the same kind of dismissal.

He spent the first half-hour struggling to get his fingers into the proper position for the traditional Vulcan salute – split down the middle, right between the middle finger and ring finger. He discovered that he could perform the salute on his left hand more easily than he could with his right, but it still took twenty minutes to arrive at that conclusion.

"The ta'a is a great sign of respect," T'Pol said as he fought with his own hand. "It is our way of shaking hands, to show that we are unarmed and that we come in peace."

"Very comforting." He couldn't get his fingers to obey. His salute looked nothing like T'Pol's.

"Please do not mock our customs, Commander."

"I didn't mean it like that, T'Pol." He gave up his futile struggle and dropped his hand. He was tempted to take hers, but he remembered what had happened the last time he had touched her, and refrained. "It's just that a handshake is so much easier than trying to make my fingers do what yours are doin'."

She regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then took his hand in her own. He braced himself for the blinding flash of light, but the only thing that happened was a lurch in his stomach – the same thing that happened basically every time he touched her. She forced his fingers to separate and then released them. He managed to hold the salute for a few seconds before his fingers reflexively snapped back to their original positions.

"Excellent, Commander," T'Pol said. Still with the "Commander". "Greeting a species in their native way is essential to interspecies relations."

"Really?" Trip asked. T'Pol nodded. "Then how come you didn't shake my hand when we first met? I mean, that's how humans say hello."

T'Pol paused with her mouth open. She composed herself quickly. "Please do not change the subject."

Trip chuckled softly and shook his head. He wanted to call on her on her obvious prevarication, but decided that he was too pleased with their closeness to risk it. "Sorry. So is there somethin' I say to go along with this, or do I just say 'Hi there, T'Pol's mom'?"

He reveled in the look of horror that manifested itself in T'Pol's eyes. "The proper greeting," he noticed that she emphasized "proper", "is dif-tor heh smusma."

He squinted at her. "What's it mean?"

"Live long and prosper." She shifted her position on her floor, which was where they had settled themselves. "When you are greeted with dif-tor heh smusma, you respond with sochya eh dif. It means 'peace and long life'."

"Difter hay smusma," he said.

T'Pol shook her head. "Dif-tor heh smusma."

"Isn't that what I said?"

"No, Commander, it is not. Apparently, your penchant for butchering language is not limited to your own."

Trip was almost offended by that remark. "Hey now. I'm tryin', aren't I?"

T'Pol eyed him indifferently. "Yes, you are. An admirable first attempt, but perhaps I should point out that my mother's English is excellent."