Pronunciation of Taj djahl-nach: taj as in "Taj Mahal". The "dj" in djahl is the same as in the name "Django Reinhardt", the word rhymes with "hall". nach rhymes with "Bach". Emphasis is placed on taj and nach, with a tiny pause between taj and djahl. And yeah, I've probably spent waaay too much time thinking about it...
Chapter Six: Awake
Splayed on the floor at Trip's feet Malcolm clutched his hand to the side of his head, his ear still protesting the shrill sound that had been shot down it from such close range. The shrieking Lehrite had somehow managed to propel himself from Reed's lap to the far wall of the Decon chamber, providing a splendid example of an equal but opposite reaction by sending the lieutenant flying backward off the bench. Though not able to stop it Trip had at least been able to slow Reed's fall, no doubt preventing an embarrassing injury. After all, how would it have looked if the man in charge of the safety of the crew wound up in a cast because a toddler shoved him off a bench?
Trip helped Malcolm to his feet and gazed first at the whimpering, apprehensive boy sprawled on the floor then at T'Pol, who was also on her feet.
"What…did you do to him?" she asked accusingly, her voice uncharacteristically loud.
"We didn't do anything to him," Trip protested just as loudly. "He woke up and went right into full panic mode."
"Would you two keep your voices down, please!?" Malcolm fairly hissed at them. "He's frightened enough as it is." Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down, mindful of the doctor's earlier advice about happy thoughts, and tried to decide on a course of action that wouldn't further terrify the lad. Then he noticed the blood on the floor near the boy's right hoof. Damn, damn, damn. Whatever the boy had struck his foot on had reopened the wound on the bottom of the hoof. They'd tended the injury on the shuttlepod, between seizures. There was a good deal more blood this time.
Cautiously approaching the child he first crouched in front of him then slowly sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. The boy scrambled to sit up, back pressed to the wall. His bewildered, terrified gaze shifted endlessly to the room's other occupants, along the walls and ceiling, back to the people. Malcolm knew without a doubt what the Lehrite was doing: trying to find a way out, a place to hide, or deciding which of the creatures surrounding him was going to hurt him first. Probably all three.
When Malcolm spoke, the boy's full attention rested on him. "Hello," he murmured soothingly. "There's nothing for you to be afraid of here. We just want to help you. You're perfectly safe." Mercifully, the heart-wrenching whining had stopped, but the youngster continued stealing furtive glances around the room.
"It is doubtful that he understands you," T'Pol declared.
The lieutenant responded calmly, eyes never wavering from the child. "It doesn't necessarily matter if he understands the words, Subcommander. What matters is the tone. Hopefully a soft, soothing tone will ease his fears and help calm him down." Indeed, the boy had already calmed considerably and, although he still cast nervous glances at Trip and T'Pol—especially T'Pol, it seemed to Malcolm—most of his attention was now on the man directly before him.
Malcolm offered a gentle smile as he continued speaking to the boy. "We're not going to hurt you," he assured the tot. With great care he extended his hands, palms up, grieved by the fearful golden eyes staring back at him. Time to see if Hoshi was right about that phrase she'd come up with. "Taj djahl-nach. You're safe now. Taj djahl-nach."
The fear evaporated from the child's face and he gazed searchingly into Reed's eyes. Leaning toward Malcolm the Lehrite sniffed the air, obviously trying to puzzle something out. He continued sniffing at Malcolm as if he'd found something familiar about the man, resting his hands on the man's still-outstretched palms as he struggled to lean closer. As slowly as possible Malcolm leaned forward to accommodate the child. Faces mere inches away from each other the Lehrite's nose homed in on Reed's mouth. His eyes slid halfway closed, giving him an almost drunken appearance as he kept breathing in the man's scent.
"Taj djahl-nach," Malcolm whispered a third time, his breath filling the boy's nostrils.
Nose twitching slightly the Lehrite's eyes closed the rest of the way as he leaned back against the wall. Face scrunching up he sneezed a tiny, almost dainty sneeze then opened his eyes to look again at the lieutenant. Leaning forward again he reached toward Malcolm, petite fingers of his right hand grazing the human's chest and patting ever so slightly. He then cupped his hand gingerly over Malcolm's mouth, taking a deep breath before covering his own mouth and nose and drawing in another deep breath. Seeing the perplexed look on the man's face, the Lehrite dropped his head and sighed in defeat. He didn't see the smile of comprehension gradually light on Malcolm's face until the lieutenant urged him to look up with a light touch on the shoulder.
"Here now…you give up too easily. You want to know about the oxygen mask?" Eyes bright, the boy nodded eagerly. Malcolm's smile grew. "Yes, I'm the one who put the mask on you." The revelation was met first with an expression of gratitude then puzzlement. The boy again patted Reed's chest then reached up to motion from one of the man's shoulders over his head to the other shoulder. He then stroked the back of Malcolm's arm and hand before cocking his head in a questioning manner.
That one had the lieutenant stumped. He'd always been reasonably talented at charades but the strange gestures of the boy had him flummoxed. The youngster sensed that the man was stymied and sighed again, but this time he didn't look away. Instead he seemed to ponder his next move, and Malcolm urged him on. "Show me again," Reed implored. The boy again stroked Malcolm's arm, repeated the motion over his head, then added a new gesture: palm toward the man's face, the Lehrite flipped his hand upward almost as though playing peek-a-boo. Again the questioning gaze fixed on Reed, and again he was mystified. A moment passed as he struggled to comprehend the gestures, and the boy cast a defeated look at him. A drawling voice behind the lieutenant reminded him that he was not alone with the boy.
"It's okay, little fella," Trip encouraged. "Try it once more, okay? We'll see if we can get it figured out." Emboldened by the commander's encouragement the lad again caressed Malcolm's arm, moved his hand over the man's head from one shoulder to the other, then changed the gesture in front of Malcolm's face to make it look as though he was lifting something from the lieutenant's chin and away from his face.
"Well I'll be damned," the engineer murmured. "Yer EV suit, Malcolm. I think he's askin' about yer EV suit. That last move he made was like he was liftin' the faceplate."
Reed was impressed—he hadn't put it together, but upon reflection was sure the commander was correct. The looping motions over his head were probably an indication of the helmet, and the hand in front of his face certainly could indicate his faceplate being opened. He puzzled another moment before he put together the bit with his arm, realizing at last that the boy was no doubt indicating the gloves and sleeves of the suit.
"Good Lord…I never even considered how different we'd look to him." Malcolm tried to think of a way to explain an EV suit to their little friend as those innocent golden eyes stared up at him, awaiting an answer. "Well," he forged ahead, "when we have to go someplace where the environment is dangerous, we have to wear special clothes to protect us." Head cocked, the boy's expression clearly conveyed his doubts.
Trip couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Looks like he thinks yer makin' it up, Malcolm," he said softly.
"I assure you, I'm not making it up," Reed replied earnestly. "After Dr. Phlox tends your injuries I will personally show you an EV suit. You can even try on the helmet if you wish. Would you like that?" An eager nod came almost immediately.
"So much for him not understandin' us, huh T'Pol?" Trip ribbed the subcommander. His smile faded as the boy began shivering again.
Malcolm motioned to his friend. "Trip…the blanket. Where's the blanket?" The boy watched cautiously as Trip picked up the blanket from the floor.
"Hey there, little fella," the engineer said gently, offering a small smile to the child as he handed the blanket to Malcolm. He was rewarded with a timid smile before the boy turned his attention back to Malcolm. Stepping back Trip felt something soft beneath his bare foot. He bent to pick up the boy's pouch from the floor next to the bench then spotted the earring beneath the bench. Retrieving the items he moved to the back of the room, deciding to hold onto them until he could return them without spooking their guest. He tied the broken ends of the strap together as he waited.
As Malcolm draped the blanket over the Lehrite's shoulders the boy once more laid a hand on the lieutenant's chest then raised his tiny hands up, holding his wrists together as if again bound. Slowly pulling his wrists apart he cocked his head quizzically, questioning eyes on Reed.
The lieutenant understood at once. "Um…no," he admitted before motioning to Trip. "Commander Tucker removed the shackles. He has an unsettling knack for picking locks."
"It's a gift," Tucker replied, voice brimming with false modesty. "Y'know, we should prob'ly git him up offa the floor," he told Malcolm, stepping forward and offering a hand to the Armory Officer. Casting an agreeing glance at Trip Malcolm reached up to grasp his friend's hand but froze as a small warm hand timidly caressed his cheek. Facing the boy again Malcolm let his hand drop away from Trip's and smiled at the child. Trip moved away, not wanting the boy to feel crowded.
The Lehrite reached up again, resting his fingertips lightly just above Reed's right eye before tracing feathery lines down the side of the man's face. Then he caressed his own face in the same manner as if comparing the texture of the human's smooth features with his own hairier countenance. Receiving no sign of objection the boy repeated the action, this time starting at the center of Malcolm's forehead and working his way down the middle of the face before him, lingering briefly over the nose, lips, and chin. Feeling his own face once again the boy's fingers hesitated at his own muzzle, exploring the differences with fascinated wonder. He seemed to barely notice as Malcolm lifted him from the floor, his tiny fingers busily probing through the man's hair in an apparent search for any trace of horns.
Reed eased the Lehrite onto the bench, legs straddling the seat, then settled in behind him as T'Pol approached with the medkit. With a strained squeak the boy flinched away from her, seizing Malcolm's hand with surprising strength.
Though it seemed against all logic to her T'Pol found herself speaking to the child. "I will not harm you," she assured him. "I merely wish to tend to your injury." To her amazement—though amazement was something she would never admit to—the boy immediately relaxed, his expression changing from near-panic to slight uneasiness. Despite his responses to Tucker and Reed, T'Pol had doubted that the child could fully understand what they'd been saying. It was possible, she supposed, that she'd been mistaken.
With more gentleness than either man thought her capable of she lifted the injured foot and placed it on the bench. For a time the boy intently watched her as she bandaged his hoof, but his attention soon moved to her face. As he stared at her his unease was replaced by obvious puzzlement, which Trip could see from his new vantage point near the comm panel.
"We have trouble figurin' her out too, sometimes," he told the boy. "She's Subcommander T'Pol." Cautiously extending his hand, palm toward the woman, the boy motioned toward her as he had with Malcolm and Trip, though he didn't actually touch her. He then placed his hands on either side of his head and pantomimed, drawing long pointed ears with his index fingers.
Trip could barely suppress his grin. "Guess humans aren't the only ones that notice those ears," he said.
Ignoring the commander T'Pol finished with the boy's foot and met the Lehrite's gaze. "I am a Vulcan. These two," she told him, motioning to Malcolm and Trip, "are Humans." Fidgeting nervously the boy nodded before again motioning to T'Pol and repeating the 'ear' gesture, then patting his own chest with his palm before tapping his fingertips on his horns. There was a sorrowful look on the boy's face as he looked at the Vulcan, almost as though he thought he'd offended her.
"I believe," Malcolm guessed, "that he thinks Vulcans dislike Lehrites." The boy nodded vigorously. The revelation left the woman momentarily speechless but Trip came to her defense. Sort of.
"Well that can't be right. I mean, how could anybody dislike such a cute little fella?" The tot repeated his previous gestures indicating T'Pol and her ears then himself and his horns. Trip persisted. "You think a Vulcan wouldn't like you just 'cuz yer a Lehrite?" The question received a solemn nod. "Well," Trip replied, "that hardly seems logical, and I know Vulcans well enough to know that they always try ta do everything logically. B'sides," he added, "T'Pol's the one who gotcher stuff back for ya. Ah don't think she woulda done that fer somebody she didn't like." Stepping toward the bench he handed the earring and pouch to the boy.
Handling them with great care the Lehrite reclaimed his possessions, lovingly fingering the earring before lifting the flap of the pouch and tucking it safely inside. His timid questioning eyes met those of the Vulcan before he leaned forward and placed a hesitant hand on her arm. After a moment he withdrew his hand and patted the pouch then gestured to himself, seeking confirmation of what he'd been told.
T'Pol at last broke her silence. "It did not take long to determine that they belonged to you. Returning them to you was the only logical course of action." The boy smiled at her before respectfully bowing his head in an obvious gesture of thanks, then haltingly raised his hand to offer a Vulcan salute. T'Pol's eyebrows shot up but she immediately clamped down on her surprise. Somberly she returned the salute.
Eyes shimmering with gleeful satisfaction the Lehrite wriggled excitedly on the bench, his back pressing into Malcolm's belly. Tipping his head back the boy smiled up at Reed, who smiled back at the upside-down face beaming up at him.
"Time to get you to Sickbay, young man."