Vulcan 201

Archer walked into the Mess Hall, his palms a little sweaty. After wiping them on his pant legs, he scanned the vacant room and finally found his teacher at a table near the window. She was sipping her tea, sitting ramrod-straight, and waiting patiently for him … despite the fact he was thirty minutes late.

He was hoping she would've left; a human would've.

Damn, he thought.

Walking over to her, he offered a nervous smile. "Sorry I'm late."

Carefully, she set her mug down as he lamely said a few more words. "Something came up."

"Something?" T'Pol asked.

His eyes darted left and then to the right. "Yeah."

"You didn't practice your conjugation, did you?" she asked.

It was the homework assignment she'd given to him. A little deflated, he ducked his head.

"No," he said.

"Captain, how do you expect to be able to speak the language without practice?"

Shrugging, he sat across from her. The gesture caused a knit between her eyebrows to form and he sat up a little, with more seriousness, until her crease eased.

"Do you have your other homework?" she asked.

Rolling his eyes, he fiddled with the arm pocket on his uniform and dug out a PADD. Once he handed it to her, she poked her eyebrow into her forehead. The altitude and vector meant she was displeased.

"I see you didn't finish this either."

"Come on, T'Pol, I've been busy."

A clear look of disdain flashed across her face for a second. She licked her lips and stared back at the computer screen.

"Yes, Commander Tucker indicated you two have watched quite a few water polo matches this week. I would … hate … for your studies to interfere."

He sighed; the sarcasm (which she'd already perfected) made him feel guiltier than he did when he entered.

"It's the division finals!"

"Couldn't you record them and watch them later?"

Archer frowned. As a personal favor, Admiral Gardner had set up a special transmission, which means for once the captain got to see the games live. It was a luxury, and one he wasn't going to give up readily.

His silence must've indicated his answer.

"Which one is more critical to your success as a captain, watching sports or speaking Vulcan?"

He shifted in his seat.

She added, "You yourself noted you wanted to be a … more prepared diplomat."

Waving away her nagging, he agreed. "I'll study more."

"Good. That means starting tonight."

With large, sad eyes he stared up at her. "Tonight? Tonight is Stanford vs. UCLA."

She didn't back down.

"Listen, with the Andorian etiquette classes from Hoshi, the Klingon fighting moves from Reed … you'd think I could have just a couple of nights off for water polo."

"Trip indicated you've watched a match every night this week."

He sighed.

"When you meet with T'Pau again, do you think she'll ask you about Stanford's score during the game with UCLA?"

He gave a pronounced glower. It'd make things a hell of a lot easier. "She can speak English," he said. "Or I could use the translator."

"Minister T'Pau prefers to negotiate in Vulcan. By knowing the language, you give her respect. At least, that's what you indicated to me when you came to me asking for my help."

It's because Hoshi wouldn't help me. Well, sorta. "You volunteered before I asked."

"Captain, you're a compassionate man, a good pilot and an extraordinary tactician, but your strength is not in languages. As your first officer, I felt compelled to offer my services."

One cheek sloped up until she offered a bit more. "And … as your friend."

He smiled.

Setting down her mug, she reviewed the work he had completed. Nodding a few times, she scrolled through the information. As he watched her, he noticed when her mouth twitched; he didn't quite have the right conjugation. When she nodded, it meant his answer was acceptable.

"I see you still have trouble with formal, past tense. If you were talking to Minister T'Pau about what happened to you in the past, you would need to use it."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Let's work on some of the wording."

He gave a begrudging head nod.

T'Pol immediately spoke in Vulcan. "Ra v'ri tu za-gad?" (What did you do yesterday?)

Staring off into space, trying to recall vocabulary, he stammered through the answer in Vulcan.

"V'glantau … uf … tu … tar … water polo … svi' Vulkansu?" (I watched … how do you say water polo in Vulcan?)

"Tu ri au." (You don't.)

"Oh." He bobbed his head up and down and continued with a smile. "V'glantauong waterpolo v'spa'raong Trip … ni mish-tal … heh T'Pol … ni savensu." (I watched water polo and had dinner with Trip, my engineer, and T'Pol, my teacher.)

Although he'd gotten through the words, he was sure he mangled not only the past, but wasn't sure whether he'd managed to say the right "and."

"I think another weakness is your blatant emotion. When speaking, it's imperative you keep your voice level and steady. To do anything other than that indicates you're having an emotional outburst."

Wiping the smile from his face, he leaned forward.

"I'm human, I can't really help it."

"I believe you can at least attempt to keep your voice flat."

"Flat?" he asked.

She demonstrated, reeling off a few sentences as if it were music. With a slight tilt in her head, she encouraged him to repeat the words. Clanging through, he jumbled sentences and phrases, breaking the harmony. Despite butchering the language, he seemed pleased to forge his way through it.

"Too much emotion. In order to speak Vulcan, you must relax. Think peaceful thoughts."

He tried again with the same under whelming result, at least he guessed that's how she felt.

"Close your eyes."

He obeyed.

"Imagine meditating in a quiet room, reflecting. Everything is silent and serene."

"Okay."

Shutting his eyes, he tried to imagine himself in his Ready Room where he could only hear the hum of the engines. Instead, he thought he heard the squeak that sometimes roamed under the floorboards. His eyes flashed open.

"Try again," she said.

This time, he tried to picture himself elsewhere – on the top of a mountain after an arduous and freeing climb. The cool wind rushed through his hair and blew onto his face. His lungs pumped for oxygen, and he could only hear the beating of his heart. It was Zen-like.

He opened his mouth and the words flowed out … though they didn't have the same ring and melodic tones that T'Pol did.

"Much better. You imagined yourself meditating?"

"No, watching water polo," he said. He grinned at his own joke and her lips twitched.

"At any rate, you'll need to work on hiding your emotion," she said.

"It's difficult."

"With patience, anything is possible."

Sighing, he asked her a question. "It must've been difficult for you to speak with emotion … to mimic us."

She blinked.

"But, you have our body language down pretty well."

"Body language?" she finally said. Her voice was unsure, as if she wondered whether she'd botched years worth of communication.

"Yeah, gestures. Humans communicate a lot through body language and tone of voice."

She raised a brow.

"For example," he said. "You know that look Trip gives: his face reddens, the vein on his forehead - just below his part – pops out, he points and his lip starts to quiver."

She seemed to consider the information. "I … know which one you speak of."

"That means Trip's about to disagree … and he's angry about it."

"Yes, I see."

He smirked.

"And your scowl – with your wrinkles sprouting across your face, red ears and squinting eyes means you are irritable?"

Giving her a lessened version of what she just described he frowned.

"Well, I can tell your moods, too," he said.

"Oh?" she asked.

"You have the smallest hint of a frown – like your lips twitch - when you're disappointed. Like when you noticed I hadn't been practicing my Vulcan."

"I do not show emotion," she said. The tone in her voice was more robotic than usual.

"Oh, yes you do. When your eyes are large and just a little glassy, you're curious."

She stared ahead, trying to keep her face placid.

"Don't worry. I don't think most people notice, just the ones who know you."

"Vulcans don't show emotion."

Smirking, he sat back in his chair casually. "Well, most Vulcans don't use contractions either, but you do."

Her eyebrow poked up.

"Admit it, T'Pol. We've contaminated you."

Giving the lightest snort possible, she stared into his eyes. "Perhaps."

Grinning, he accepted the information triumphantly.

"And, possibly you have been … contaminated … by Surak – a Vulcan."

He furrowed his brow.

"Why is emotion the ruin of all that exists?" she asked.

Without a beat, he answered her. "Because it taints thought. Purity of thought is the essence of a structured mind. And a structured mind is the pursuit of every Vulcan."

Even he seemed surprised he knew the answer.

"Surak said that as he tried to convince the rulers of Vulcan to bow to reason. It's already been translated – the first recordings from the Kir'Shara."

He stared into space and tried to recall more, but it was already gone.

"Although, one would've hoped that Surak influenced you more."

He chuckled a bit. "Wait, I thought you said you didn't believe me when I had the katra of Surak?"

"After reading the Kir'Shara I have tempered my skepticism."

He smiled broadly.

She cut off his glee. "Shall we continue?"

He glanced down at his watch and then timidly gazed up at her.

"The game?" she asked.

"It starts in ten minutes now," he said.

"Stanford vs. UCLA?"

"Yeah."

"I presume Commander Tucker is meeting you?"

"No, he's on duty tonight."

The two stared at each other, and the idea lit in his eyes first – mischievously. "Ya know, you could watch the game with me. Maybe I could teach you a few things about the sport."

Although she was quiet, she didn't look as disgusted with the idea as he thought she would.

"If I do, will you complete your homework assignment, including practicing your conjugation and restraining your emotion."

Beaming, he agreed. "You bet."

The two got up from the table and headed to the door, T'Pol's hands wrapped around her mug. As the door swished open, she turned to him.

"Do I really speak with emotion and show visible signs of it through … body language?"

"Does it worry you?"

"Worry is an emotion. I was merely asking for your affirmation."

He mocked seriousness. "Right." When he turned to her, he could see her eyes were gleaming – curious and eager. Stopping for a moment, he answered her.

"I just always assumed you were an excellent student of the human condition, T'Pol. I don't think you're too emotional. I think you're just right."

There was a smile in her eyes that made her straighten. Rather than extinguish it, she leaned into him slightly.

"Captain, I think you're making significant progress as a diplomat, despite your failings in the Vulcan language."

If she wasn't under his command, he'd throw an arm around her and bring her into his shoulder. But, instead he held out his hand for her to walk through the portal first as he chattered on about the rules of water polo.