This time Elle actually made it in the door. The literature teacher, Regine Macbeth- "yes, that is my name, yes, that is why I went into literature in the first place, yes, I've heard all the jokes" - welcomed her in and introduced her to Jetta and Nicole Harcomb. "These two will get show you around, they're in most of your classes, and they'll introduce you to everyone else."
The identical twins greeted Elle with the kind of up-and-down glance that immediately revealed them as the head of the rumor mill. "You're a starship kid, too?" Nicole asked.
Elle nodded. "How'd you know?"
"It's the vibes," Jetta said.
Elle smiled.
The Harcomb twins were in fact a wealth of information regarding teachers, classes, schedules, guest speakers, teacher's assistants, every single civilian under the age of eighteen, and most everyone else's parents.
"Our mom's one of the yeomen in charge of Captain Picard," Jetta said. "Our dad's in ops." That explained the clearing-house of information and the tactical mindset of both twins. "What about yours?"
Elle tugged at her sleeve. "My parents are gone," she said. "It's just me."
The twins tilted their head in the same direction, studying her thoughtfully. "You're the new civilian consultant," Nicole said. "The one giving Riker's yeoman fits."
Elle blushed. "That's me. I come with a lot of paperwork."
"New transfers always do," Jetta said wisely, and moved the conversation to 'how best to sneak food into math class when your teacher is a Vulcan'.
They shepherded her through the literature classroom, physical education, mathematics, engineering, astrophysics, history of the Federated worlds (24th century edition), and art.
"And you'll have to sign yourself up for specialized subjects, if you want electives," Nicole said. "I'd suggest ceramics or color theory, the teacher's a huge believer in kinesthetic learning."
"Finger painting," Jetta translated.
"I don't know if I want to actually want to have structured pottery instruction," Elle mused thoughtfully. "I'll have to think about it."
"You can sit in on classes, it's actually encouraged," Nicole said. "You've dabbled before?"
"Eh. I've made a couple things. Blobby things, mostly." Elle wondered if Commander Ael had kept the little bloodwing sculpture. Had Captain Kirk kept his ceramic tribble? She'd have to ask Bones. "What about archaeology? Or fencing?"
"Archaeology? There's a club for that. And fencing, too. Why fencing?"
Elle grinned sheepishly. "My botany teacher had a lot of side hobbies."
"Mm. There's a good botany class. Keiko Ishikawa teaches the art of bonsai."
Elle considered. Do tribbles eat plants? Could she get a bonsai? That'd be cool.
-/\-
Elle checked the time and place again. Deck 7 smallish port lounge, 1930 hours. Booked by Doctor Crusher, dramatized reading of Merchant of Venice.
Elle tucked her PADD under her arm and set off.
She met Captain Picard in the turbolift. He was wearing civilian clothes. "Good evening, captain," she said, giving him a smile.
"Good evening," he said soberly. He had the air of a man going to the gallows, not someone going to go watch a play.
Elle studied him for a moment, wondering at his fatalistic attitude. She eyed his billowy-sleeved linen shirt. She grinned. "Wait... is Dr. Crusher making you do one of the parts?"
He sighed.
Elle cackled into her sleeve. "Who are you going to be?"
"Shylock," he grumbled.
Elle snorted. "Nice. You know, your actor was also a great Shakespearian stage actor. He only took the job acting you because he thought it would only last a couple of years."
Picard blinked down at her. "Pardon?" he asked, and Elle's entire world derailed.
"You're actually French," she marveled, staring up at him.
He frowned at her. "Yes?"
"No, you're actually French," she said. "Your accent and everything."
"Yes," he said again. "You, didn't know that? My name is Jean-Luc Picard."
Elle almost fell over as he pronounced it. "It just never really ocurred to me that you're actually from France," she admitted, shaking her head. "The guy who's your actor, he's super British, and everybody just kind of went with it, but that's the first time you've actually like, done the 'rrrrr' sound and you-" She gasped. "Wait. If you're actually... What's your favorite thing to drink?"
"A good '74 red wine," he said slowly.
"No, I mean like, hot drink," Elle asked, feeling more anxiety now than she'd ever felt in her life.
"Espresso," Picard answered promptly. "Or a cappuccino in the morning. Why?"
"My entire life is a lie," Elle wailed, caught between laughing and crying hysterically.
"I rarely drink it though," Picard continued, as if a teenager having a meltdown in the middle of a hallway was perfectly normal. Maybe it was, on the Enterprise. "I have to watch my caffeine intake for my heart. I usually drink Earl Grey. It has a good flavor."
Elle stopped hyperventilating. "Wait. You're serious?"
"Yes..."
Elle just barely refrained from hugging him. "Oh thank the Great Bird."
He stared at her in open confusion. "I ask again. Why?"
"Because that's your catchphrase! Tea, Earl Grey, hot."
"Elle, I am not a character in a television show," he said gently.
"I know, I know, and I swear I'm not like objectifying you or anything but it's like, culture shock." She gave him a shaky laugh and a thumbs-up. "I'm fine. I just have to rewrite my entire worldview. It's fine."
"You are a very strange child," he said dryly, and ushered her into the lounge. "And if anything, my catchphrase is 'make it so', or so says Commander Riker."
"Oh good, my Shylock is here," Dr. Crusher said, waving them over to a round table. "Oh, Elle, it's good to see you here. You like Shakespeare?"
"Some stuff," Elle replied.
"Excellent. You sit right here next to the captain and he can explain all the jokes to you."
Elle sat in her appointed spot and looked over at Picard, who had gone disgruntled again. "You don't have to explain the jokes to me," she reassured him. "I either know them or I won't get them."
"There are some people that say doctors are sadists," Picard grumbled under his breath, flipping his physical copy of Shakespeare open to the play, "and they would be right."
-/\-
At the end of the reading, most everyone dispersed, and Picard and Elle stayed to help Dr. Crusher move the chairs and tables back to their places.
"What did you think of the play?" Dr. Crusher asked.
"A product of its time," Elle answered, which was the politically-correct thing to say if one was going on Twitter, for example. "But almost everybody in it was a raging hypocrite, so it's kinda hard to actually like any of the characters."
"What about Portia?" Picard asked. "Her main theme was the quality of mercy."
"Yeah, but she didn't end up showing mercy to anybody," Elle replied. "She just talked about it."
"What about the theme of friendship?"
"Good friends don't let you take other poeple's core identities away," Elle said dryly. "The speeches are good though."
"It is a product of its time," Picard agreed with her, "but it did pinpoint prejudices and biased viewpoints quite well."
"True. And people are still like that. I don't know if I like the 'if you prick us, do we not bleed?' in the context of revenge, but more in the 'what goes around, comes around.' Your actions harming other people always bite you, in the end."
"True," Picard said, "but Shylock was using it as an excuse to get revenge, which accomplished nothing, in the end."
"True." Elle slid the chair away. "And the captain always says you can't take quotes out of context." She blinked. "Captain Kirk, I mean."
"I figured," Picard said dryly.
"Next time we do something like this, would you like to read a part, Elle?" Dr. Crusher asked, as they left the lounge.
Elle shook her head. "No thank you." She smiled at them. "Thank you for inviting me, though."
"We could do this again, sometime," Picard offered. "Whatever you're reading, if you let me know, we could discuss it."
Elle smiled. "I would love that. Good night captain, doctor." She went into her quarters.
Picard offered his arm to Dr. Crusher, who took it, and they continued on down the corridor.
Elle watched them go thoughtfully.
-/\-
Elle's first official day of school went as well as could be expected. It was hard not to be distracted by the presence of other students, instead of having the teacher's undivided attention, but the spirit of teamwork was nicer than doing the work by herself.
The math, engineering, and scientific discoveries she'd missed in the last eighty years... "why do we have codified eleven-dimensional math," Elle moaned. "I'm barely up to six-dimensional."
"Because we do," was Jetta's unsympathetic answer.
-/\-
"Hello," said the Vulcan boy next to her in color theory.
Elle lifted her hand in the ta'al. "Mene sakkhet ur-seveh," she replied, regulating her expression to a brief smile.
He stared at her. "Your accent is admirable," he said.
She smiled wider. "Thank you. My name is Elle Wilcott."
"Satel," he said, "son of Tetsu."
She inclined her head. "Nice to meet you."
He observed her for a moment. "You are new to the Enterprise," he stated.
"Yes. I arrived just a couple weeks ago. You?"
Satel began to lay out his supplies on his desk. "I have been here for 1.7 years. My parents are scientists."
"Specialties?" Elle asked, curious.
"My father is in xenobotany, my mother in microcellular biology."
"Fascinating. And you, if I may ask?"
He looked discomfited. "I like music," he said, "and poetry."
Elle beamed. "Oh, I like poetry too! Do you read mainly Vulcan poems or are you interested in other cultures? Do you like epics?" A literature buddy, right off the bat! Yes!
Satel gaped at her. "You did not comment on the disparity of interests," he said.
She blinked. "Why would I? You don't have to like what your parents like."
"I prefer epics," he said after a second. "I have not yet attempted a Terran work."
She smiled. "Do you want to read the Iliad together? I haven't gotten to it yet but captain-" Kirk "- I mean, my previous captain, recommended it."
"I doubt our reading speeds are comparable."
"Yeah, probably not, but if you read it first I'll get to look forward to it." Elle cringed at his expression of astonishment. "Sorry, am I being too pushy? I apologize."
"You are not," Satel told her. "Class begins in thirty-four seconds. Would you like to come over for tea after school to discuss this further?"
"I accept your invitation," Elle said, relieved.
He eyed her. "You are very formal," he said.
Elle smiled faintly. "Sorry. I'm nervous."
"New environments can be overwhelming," he agreed.
The teacher cleared his throat. "All right, all, let's settle, thank you. Elle, please come get the required supplies for today."
"Yes, sir."
-/\-
After school, Elle received a comm from Satel with the location of his family's apartment.
Vulcan, Vulcans, I love Vulcans, just make friends, you won over four-hundred grown-ups you can make friends with a peer... She steeled herself and rang the doorbell.
A Vulcan woman with a pixie cut opened the door. "Greetings. You are Satel's classmate?"
"Yes, ma'am. Elle Wilcott. Mene sakkhet ur-seveh." She inclined her head.
Satel's mother raised both eyebrows. "Sochya eh dif," she replied. "Come in. You may call me T'Sirin."
Elle entered their family quarters and didn't fall over when she encountered the higher gravity or the warmer temperatures. Ten points to me. Their quarters were scattered with holo-albums, knick-knacks, preserved flower and seed specimens, sundry Vulcan items, and an abandoned craft project. Elle had never seen a Vulcan home with things piled on the table. Stop staring.
"Hi," she told Satel, and sat across from him at the table when he waved her over.
"Would you like something to drink?" Satel asked, and poured a glass of water from the carafe on the table. He handed it to her.
Elle saluted him with the cup and took a sip. "Thank you," she replied.
Both Vulcans looked at her strangely.
"What?" Elle asked, blushing.
"You are very formal," T'Sirin replied, and went back to her computer station.
Okay? I guess not too many people know much about Vulcan cultures, still. Elle shook her head slightly, banishing her thoughts. "So the Iliad?" she asked.
Satel consulted a padd. "It seems similar to The Travels of T'Mini-hin And His Clan, which I enjoyed."
Elle nodded. "But the Iliad doesn't have a focus on a single blood feud like T'Mini-hin, since it covers the entire Greek pantheon."
Satel stopped. Stared. "You have read it?"
Elle blushed hotly. "Well, um, I did excerpts from it for reading comprehension in Pre-Reformation dialects, the bit about the sand-dwellers of the Eye? And it sounded cool so I looked up the English translation but my language teacher said it wasn't an accurate translation, so I didn't read it after all."
"I see," Satel said. "Perhaps after the Iliad we could do the Clan? I can assist with the Pre-Reform dialect if you wish."
"That would be great," Elle said, grinning.
"Excellent. What is your average reading speed?"
They talked about reading schedules and book club meetings, and Satel even made a joke about registering them as a club in the log.
"Would you like to stay for dinner?" T'Sirin asked, surfacing from her computer station.
"I would be honored," Elle replied.
T'Sirin raised an eyebrow and went over to the kitchenette.
At that moment the door opened and Satel's father, Tetsu, came in. "A guest," he said, spotting Elle.
"This is Elle Wilcott, my classmate," Satel said.
Elle got up and bowed her head. "Sir."
Tetsu blinked. "Welcome," he said.
"Do you require additional protein supplements for your diet?" T'Sirin asked, as she and Satel set plates on the table.
"No ma'am, vegetarian is fine."
They ate, and Elle was able to keep up with the three Vulcans as conversation flowed in half Standard, half Vulcan.
"You are very formal," Tetsu said, once she finished explaining her class schedule. "Where did you learn Vulcan?"
"On my previous ship," Elle replied.
"You had a native teacher?" he asked.
Elle hid a wince. "Uh-huh."
"Who?"
"His name was Spock." That was a common name, right? Right? She watched their expressions change. Right?
"Spock who?" Tetsu asked slowly.
"S'chn T'gai," Elle replied, giving up the attempt. You can't lie to a Vulcan, or even obfuscate, unless you're Jim Kirk.
Tetsu and T'Sirin's eyebrows hit the roof. Satel's mouth dropped open. "How?" Satel demanded, his voice hilariously high-pitched.
Elle winced. "He was one of my legal guardians." Well, there went the cat, out of the bag.
All three Vulcans gaped at her. "You are Spock's first adopted daughter?" Tetsu said. "Impossible. She would be over eighty years old."
Elle sighed. "No. It was time travel. I was on the original Enterprise, something happened, and I ended up here two weeks ago."
Tetsu's eyebrows almost flew off his head. "Fascinating. And you hold Vulcan citizenship?"
"Yes. Elle Wilcott, Clan and House of Surak."
All three of them nodded, confusion clearing from their faces. "It is logical, then, that a daughter of the House of Surak would be so formal," T'Sirin said, satisfied.
Elle blinked, confused. "Every Vulcan I've spoken to before has never told me I'm too formal. What does that even mean, if I may ask?"
"We are from a small Northern city," T'Sirin explained. "Our clan and house are insignificant. We hold no estate, no seat on the Council. We are not of the Old Clans. Those you've met in the past would have been of those clans, or would have know that you were. They are all like that, held to tradition and standards higher than any others."
"That actually makes sense," Elle said slowly, "no wonder most of the Intrepid's crew were way more chill than Spock." Things were starting to fall into place... Sarek's estate... the butler...
"Why are you on the Enterprise and not with your clan?" Satel asked.
"I... I have a job to do here," Elle said vaguely. "I was the test civilian on the original Enterprise. I have a similar role here. Commander Riker was kind enough to sign as a guardian for me."
"I see," Satel said, in the tone of one who did not see at all but was too confused to request clarification.
"You may call on us for assistance at any time," Tetsu said, seeming pleased.
"Thank you," Elle replied. "I would really like to keep up my conversational Vulcan."
"That is logical."
They finished eating and she and Satel read the first three pages of the Iliad together.
Afterwards, Elle was too wired to go back to her quarters. She decided on wandering through the Enterprise instead, finding new places she'd probably missed on her previous wanderings.
She stuck her head into a room at random and found a... hair salon?
A Bolian hustled over to her. "Looking for a haircut?" he asked cheerfully.
"Uh, no, just taking a walk," Elle said slowly, eyeing the wall of different hairstyles.
"Ah. Well, anytime you want a trim or a change in style, this is the spot," the Bolian said cheerfully. "My name is Mott, I'm the head barber."
Ah. Elle shook his hand. "I'm Elle. I'm new."
"Ah, you're the new civilian mission consultant. A little younger than I thought you'd be. Wesley Crusher's age, aren't you?"
"Uh, almost," Elle said.
"And today was your first day of school? How'd it go? Make any friends?"
"A few."
He 'hmm'ed thoughtfully. "Well, welcome to the Enterprise. Hope you'll have a good time."
"Thank you, Mr. Mott." Elle smiled and made her escape. Note to self: Mott runs the civilian rumor mill. Do not engage. Although it was kind of late for that. Vulcans weren't necessarily inclined to gossip, but the only thing that traveled faster than warp speed was news... That's life in a small town, Elle reminded herself.