Logic, Inescapable Part II: Differing Tastes

When Men are from Earth and Women are from Vulcan Fic CHALLENGE

Logic, Inescapable Part II: Differing Tastes

By HopefulRomantic

Rating: PG
Genre: Drama, Romance, Episode Addition
Archive: Trip/T’Polers, thank you most kindly
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise is the property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. All original material herein is the property of its author.
Spoilers: Through "Home"
Summary: More of T’Les’s inner musings on Trip and T’Pol during their visit to Vulcan. Sort of a sequel to Logic, Inescapable

A/N: As I was finishing up this story, the concept of the "When Men Are From Earth, And Women Are From Vulcan..." challenge was birthing over at the HoTBBS. And lo! it turned out that this little piece fit the parameters... sort of. So consider this a bridge between the "Clipping Coupons POV Challenge" and the new one. Enjoy.

EDITOR'S NOTE: The "When Men are From Earth and Women are From Vulcan...." Challenge is a response to our webmom, Myst's, desire to see stories dealing with the way Trip and T'Pol deal with the cultural and other differences that would naturally arise between two species.

A/N: All the lovely bribes were just too much for me to resist, y’all. Here ye go.

My thanks to the Vulcan Language Dictionary (http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/) and the Vulcan Language Institute (http://home.teleport.com/~vli/vlif.htm) for help with the menu. Also, thanks as always to my betas Stephanie, TJinLOCA, and Jenna.

Date: 6-2-06

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

T’Les was startled from her meditation by a sound she had not heard in this house for decades, since before Sochya’s death: a man’s soft laughter.

She remembered Sochya laughing like that. He had indulged himself rarely, never publicly, only when a special occasion warranted it... when he and T’Les were alone, and times were more peaceful. Long ago. She found it a pleasant memory, that low, musical sound.

Tucker and T’Pol were in the kitchen, preparing the morning meal, talking in low voices. T’Les saw from the lightening sky outside her bedroom window that the sunrise was imminent. She bent down to blow out her meditation candle— and realized with a start that Tucker was speaking in Vulcan.

“Shur t’plomik,” he was saying slowly.

“Correct,” T’Pol responded. “It is a vegetable soup.”

“And this?”

“Sazh-krei’la. A type of roll.”

“Sazh-krei’la.” Tucker repeated the word carefully, apparently to be certain he was pronouncing it correctly. More evidence of his sincerity. Most distressing.

The two of them were growing closer under T’Les’s own roof— in her very kitchen! It was simply unacceptable. It was...

His accent was good, for a beginner.

“What does it taste like?” he was asking.

“You will know soon enough,” T’Pol replied.

His voice became playfully petulant. “Aw, T’Pol, why can’t I taste some now?”

“As I already explained,” she said patiently, “it is improper to partake of the meal before it is served.”

He made a reluctant noise of assent. Then there was silence, punctuated by the quiet clinks of utensils being placed on trays... followed by the sound of a soft slap of skin on skin.

“Hey!” Tucker’s voice was dumbfounded, and yet amused. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I have seen Chef employ this method of deterrence in the Mess Hall, to great effect,” came T’Pol’s calm reply.

“I expect Chef to slap people’s hands away from the food before he serves it,” Tucker said in protest. “He’s a prima donna. You’re Vulcan. You’re supposed to be above that kind of—”

T’Les heard a sharper slap. Then Tucker again. “Ow!”

“When a deterrent is effective, its source is unimportant.” T’Pol’s voice was relaxed, even teasing. With T’Les, T’Pol always seemed tightly self-conscious and defensive, as if fearing the next mishap. With T’Les, T’Pol never teased. T’Les had assumed her daughter had no sense of humor.

“I just wanted a little bite,” Tucker muttered, but his tone was teasing as well.

T’Les moved to the doorway of her bedroom. She was ready to present herself for the morning meal... but she paused, reluctant to step into the hallway. As soon as T’Pol and Tucker saw her, their conversation would cease... and for some reason that defied all logic, T’Les did not wish to interrupt them as yet.

“I fail to understand why you find it so difficult to wait until the morning meal to taste the food,” T’Pol said to Tucker.

“Things’re done pretty differently in my family’s house,” he replied. “I’m not used to bein’ in the kitchen and fixin’ the food without taste-testing it.”

A long silence followed. T’Les could almost see T’Pol giving Tucker an arched-eyebrow stare that served to convey both a request for further clarification and her annoyance that she needed the term explained to her. Such was the double-bladed lirpa of curiosity. “Taste... testing?” she asked at last.

“I take it Vulcans don’t taste-test.” Tucker sounded amused.

“We do not even have an equivalent for the term.”

“On Earth, it’s customary in the domestic home for the cook— usually the mother— to taste the dish as she’s preparing it, to make sure it tastes the way she intends as she goes along. Recipes even list ingredients like, ‘Add salt to taste’.”

“How inefficient,” T’Pol observed. “Why not eliminate the need for such testing by documenting a precise measurement of the ingredients and creating a permanent record?”

Tucker laughed softly again. “Besides the fact that it’d take all the fun out of fixing the food... some cooks don’t follow recipes. My mom, for instance, has a gift for cooking. It’s like an art with her. Rather than follow a recipe, she creates a dish using experience and instinct, taste-testing along the way. It turns out a little differently every time, but it’s delicious all the same.”

“The concept sounds unsanitary,” T’Pol maintained.

“You’re missin’ the point,” Tucker said. “When I was young, it was one of those family rituals that brought us all together and kept us close. I remember Mom cookin’ up pan-fried catfish or grilled crab cakes, with Lizzie and David and me helping— or most likely makin’ a mess of things, but Mom never said so. And when the food was near bein’ ready, she’d give us each a fork and let us have a taste, to see what we thought. It always tasted perfect, o’ course. That’s Mom.”

Tucker’s words about his mother were respectful, admiring, affectionate. Most honorable. T’Les was quite disconcerted.

“Does the rest of your family share your mother’s culinary expertise?” T’Pol inquired.

“Oh, I’m decent enough, I guess. David can’t cook his way out of a paper bag, but lucky for him, Nuala’s a great cook. And Lizzie...” T’Les heard Tucker’s voice roughen with emotion. “She was a good cook, but her art... it was in her designs. They were open, airy... If you walk into a building she did, you feel like you’re not quite touching the ground.”

He was speaking of this Lizzie in the past tense, with palpable sadness in his voice. T’Les deduced that Tucker’s sibling must have recently died.

T’Pol’s voice reflected his. “Perhaps, after we return to Enterprise, you could show me pictures of the buildings she designed.”

Tucker’s voice brightened considerably. “I’ll do better’n that. I’ll take you to see them. If you’d like to go.”

“I would.”

“I wish I could show you my favorite of the places she did. It was down in Belle Glade— it got vaporized in the attack.” His voice grew quiet with reminiscence. “It was a library. Lizzie wasn’t expecting any of us to come to the opening— I was at Spacedock, up to my ears in design specs for Enterprise, and my brother was in Ireland. But I was able to get away for one day. We all hatched this secret plot— David and Nuala bundled up Patrick and hopped the shuttle over, and we picked up Mom and Dad in Panama City and roared down to Belle Glade together.” T’Les heard another quiet chuckle. “We showed up just as they were cutting the ribbon during the opening ceremony. Lizzie was so excited, I thought she was gonna cry. She took us on a grand tour of the place. It was beautiful... she designed it like the old lending libraries of the 17th century. It was her first big job— got her a lot of good notices. It put her on the map.” He was silent for a long moment. “Now they’re both gone...”

T’Les moved noiselessly into the shadowy hallway, enough to see into the kitchen. T’Pol and Tucker were standing close together, but not touching. His face— remarkably open, even for a human— reflected long-standing affection, grief still fresh and stinging, a sibling’s pride, a cherished one’s loss.

T’Pol’s expression clearly revealed shared sympathy. T’Les watched her daughter take Tucker’s hand. It was a simple gesture, but it had a profound effect on him; he seemed to draw strength from her touch. He smiled wistfully at her as he gripped her hand tightly. “I wish you could’ve met Elizabeth. I think you two would’ve really hit it off.” At her questioning glance, he amended, “You would’ve liked each other.”

T’Pol nodded, looking pleased. Tucker shut his eyes as he shook his head. “Vacations are a dangerous thing. Too much time to think.”

“Better fond memories than nightmares,” T’Pol said.

He smiled at her again. “Can’t argue with that.” He drew nearer to her, and for a moment T’Les thought he was going to kiss her. But then, as if realizing where he was, he pulled back, simply holding T’Pol’s hand against his chest, in a clear gesture of affection.

T’Pol studied their clasped hands for a long moment. Then, as if coming to a decision, she took his hand and gently shaped it, the first two fingers held out. As Tucker watched curiously, and T’Les looked on with a mixture of surprise and unease, T’Pol touched her two fingers to his in the Vulcan way. She looked almost shy as she told him, “When in public, Vulcans express affection in this manner.”

As Tucker regarded their lightly touching fingers, a smile of wonder appeared on his expressive countenance. His gaze rose to meet hers. “Mind if we stay like this forever?”

T’Pol did not forget herself enough to return his smile, but her eyes were warm as she gazed up at him. “Normally I would not mind,” she said softly. “However, we must serve the morning meal. My mother will be finished with her meditation soon.”

“Right.” With reluctance, Tucker lowered his hand from hers and turned to the trays they had prepared. A trace of his smile remained as he ran rapidly over the items. “Okay, we have sazh-kreila, gespar, hirat, kasa...” He paused, pointing. “What’s that one again?”

“Sash-savas.”

He nodded. “Sash-savas... shur t’plomik, and theris-masu.” He spread his hands, looking satisfied. “Asal-yem is served.”

His accent was very good. T’Les sighed to herself. It was all quite impossible.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

At the morning meal, T’Pol was again the stiff, self-conscious daughter to which T’Les was accustomed— always on the defensive, always afraid to fail. Tucker appeared a touch nervous as well, but it quickly became apparent to T’Les that he was apprehensive on T’Pol’s behalf. When he spoke, it was with an engaging, easy-going confidence.

With T’Pol and T’Les reluctant to discuss anything more risky than the weather, Tucker drove much of the conversation with his polite interest about the food. As he sampled each dish, he asked how it was grown and prepared, and related stories of his home on Earth, and his mother’s own fruit and vegetable garden. It would have been much easier for T’Les to dismiss him had he been a typical boorish human, unable to conform to Vulcan customs, uninterested in Vulcan ways. Instead she was increasingly impressed by him, which irritated her no end.

“The nar’ru vines have bloomed early this year,” T’Pol remarked.

“I’ve had ample time to attend to them,” T’Les replied dryly.

“It sounds as if you’re not enjoying retirement.”

T’Les was growing weary of wasting time with inconsequentialities. “You still haven’t told me the reason for your visit.”

T’Pol and Tucker glanced at each other. “I didn’t know one was necessary,” T’Pol said.

T’Les felt a trace of annoyance. Why would T’Pol not simply admit to her involvement with Tucker? T’Les had deduced its existence within two minutes of laying eyes on them, after all. Very well, if T’Pol wished to be difficult, T’Les would accommodate her. In a markedly upbeat tone, she said, “I thought perhaps you had decided to rejoin the High Command.”

T’Pol hesitated. Finally she said, “I’ve been offered a commission with Starfleet. If I accept, it could be several years before I’m able to return home.”

T’Les was stunned into silence. This was a development she had not expected. She found it nearly as calamitous as an admission of a liaison with a human. A post in Starfleet would give T’Pol a legitimate place in Tucker’s world, and make it even more difficult to dissuade her from continuing this relationship with him. T’Pol would accept the commission, of course— her rebellious nature would assure it— guaranteeing that she would never conform to her people’s ideals. T’Les suspected that, given the opportunity, T’Pol would follow her heart and turn her back on her people forever.

Why had Sochya encouraged the girl’s individualism? T’Les would never understand. T’Pol’s oddness was the source of her suffering, and would only continue to be. What difference could she make as a member of this human’s organization, as a part of this human’s life, if it meant being rejected by her own society?

She was spared the need to answer right away by, ironically, her own lack of facility with mechanics. Tucker had taken a bite of gespar. Even he, so eager to sample Vulcan foods, could not hide his visible reaction to the unpleasant taste.

“The gespar isn’t fresh,” T’Les said flatly, unable to suppress a trace of frustration at her own inefficiency. “My stasis unit needs to be replaced.”

“I’d be happy to take a look at it,” Tucker said. He gave her one of his disarming, lopsided smiles. “If I can recalibrate a warp reactor, I ought to be able to handle a kitchen appliance.”

T’Les debated inwardly for only a moment before nodding; accepting Tucker’s offer of assistance was logical. She studied him for a moment. “My daughter has always been fascinated by alien worlds. She was all too eager to finish her schooling and leave Vulcan.”

Tucker did not react, but merely sipped calmly at his theris-masu. The man seemed to possess a Vulcan-like imperturbability. T’Pol, however, straightened stiffly, reacting with a defensiveness that was almost human. “As I recall, you encouraged me to leave.”

“A mother is expected to push her young out of the nest,” T’Les replied tersely. “At some point, they are supposed to return.”

T’Pol looked down, taking sudden interest in her food. T’Les focused her unforgiving blue eyes on Tucker. “I’m told that on Earth, the human child chooses their own path in life. They put their own wishes ahead of their family’s.”

To her increasing dissatisfaction, Tucker did not flinch away from her hard stare any more this morning than he had yesterday. He shrugged faintly and nodded. “That’s true... for the most part.”

T’Les turned her withering gaze on T’Pol, who reflexively shrank back. T’Les allowed a clear edge of accusation to color her voice. “You’ve learned much from them, haven’t you?”

T’Pol pointedly set down her mug and faced her mother squarely, though she still resembled a wide-eyed, frightened k’nurt. She spoke carefully, with barely restrained anger. “A Starfleet posting is no less important than one with the High Command.” She hesitated, then added purposefully, “I’m sure Father would have approved.”

T’Les had little regard for the High Command these days, but having T’Pol rejoin that body was still preferable to seeing her paraded as a curiosity in Starfleet, while she threw away her career and heritage in the process. “Your father believed that our work should enrich Vulcan society,” she said pointedly.

T’Pol’s eyes flashed with unguarded anger. “Earth is supposed to be our ally!” she retorted through gritted teeth.

T’Les stared, taken aback by her daughter’s almost feral display of emotion. “What’s happened to you?”

T’Pol’s gaze lowered immediately in shame. As she struggled to regain control, her eyes darted back and forth, filled with anxiety. Finally she stole a glance at Tucker. He was already looking at T’Pol, his expression quietly supportive. As his eyes held hers, her agitation eased, much as Tucker had been calmed by her touch earlier. Her voice was quiet and composed when she spoke to T’Les. “We shouldn’t argue in front of a guest.”

Without another word, she returned to her meal. This time, Tucker remained silent as well, no doubt as a demonstration of support for his... what was the term the humans used?... his “lady friend.” He was maddeningly honorable.

T’Les took a drink of theris-masu to conceal her deepening concern for her daughter. Apparently, T’Pol was not yet prepared to reveal the reason for these distressing outbursts. Perhaps it had something to do with that mysterious, unnamed illness to which she had so vaguely referred in her letters.

Or perhaps T’Pol was simply overdosing on humanity. The years she had spent with Starfleet had brought her little gain, and far too much harm. Her professional reputation was tarnished, her personal life was in turmoil, her physical health was impaired, and her emotions were wildly on display. T’Les saw ample logic in convincing T’Pol to return home permanently, and put this unsettling part of her life— including Commander Tucker— in the past.

T’Pol’s refusal to reply to Koss’s letter would not likely deter him. T’Les counseled herself to be patient. It was possible that the ideal solution to the problem had simply not yet presented itself.

Part III

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Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

A whole mess of folks have made comments

This is really good. I liked it a lot.

I loved the first part and this was just as great. This is simply the best characterization of T'Les ever. Period. No if's, and's or but's about it.

The scene in the kitchen was classic. It really captures I think TnT's relationship at that point, and how Trip's accepted Lizzie's death.

And T'Les...wow! I love how you can at the same time have her impressed with Trip and then have her be infuriated with him for the very reason she's impressed. And they say humans are conflicted?

"The two of them were growing closer under T’Les’s own roof— in her very kitchen! It was simply unacceptable. It was...

His accent was good, for a beginner."

One of my favorites lines! Simply a great fic. I'm glad to see this have continued, and please, even though I'm one who doesn't believe in asking so, please continue this! The "end, for now" is very promising!

Really nice continuation of T'Les' point of view and unease abot her daughters relationship with Trip. I liked Trip talking about Lizzie it addeda nice touch to the kitchen scene. I look forward to the next part of your story .I enjoyed the beginning of this story nicely done Hopeful Romantic as always with your great stories.

I enjoyed how you incorporated dialog from the episode into the scene at the breakfast table, all the while giving us insights into the characters' motivations that were not evident in the series. The breakfast preparation scene was sweet, as well. Thank you.

I liked it a lot, great little story.

I agree with Gammaent, this is the best characterization of T'Les that i've ever read! I loved every bit of it.

That was wonderful! I always wonder what is going on in the characters' heads when I watch TV. You do a great job of showing just that. I really enjoy your stories. Thank you.

Heh. VERY well done, HR. I absolutely love your T'Les, particularly those little bits where she realizes that Trip is impressing her and dislikes that fact. But man ... that scene where T'Pol finds out that T'Les is being punished for her actions (cough*Archer's actions*cough) at P'Jem is coming up and I can only imagine how difficult that'll be...

Looking forward to any continuation that you do...

Love the story, [b]HR[/b]. Very sweet how Trip was trying to learn the names of the different foods. And an excellent T'Les POV, too. I could totally believe that these were her thoughts during that scene.

Weeee! That was a fun fic to read. Loved HOME, and that scene in particular. Nice narrations there. Loved the new scene you wrote, where T'Les overhears their conversation preparing the morning meal. Brilliant!

Wunderbar! That was great. I really enjoyed how T'Les tried so hard not to like Trip, and failed so miserably. (And who could blame her?) Awesome, well done as always! :)

Nice work as usual. :-) so when do we see more of the continuing series?

HTH

Thanks for the kind words, folks. You give me smiles. :D

HTH, I'm working on the next Reconnecting story now... at the same time as a mess of SNW 10 entries, LOL. I'll get it up as soon as time (sweet, precious time!) permits. Your interest is much appreciated.

Ah, You seem approaching a state a friend coined; hyperpolypyroferricism. The state of having too many irons in the fire.

:-)

HTH

ROFLMAO! Yep, I have it bad, all right.

Must be why Distracted took two days to write her challenge story, while I needed two months...

"hyperpolypyroferricism", huh?

Sounds like the story of my life, LOL!

HR, I luved it... Just luved it. TnT doing the finger-touch thingy = lump in my throat. Awesome!

I enjoyed this one quite a bit! I loved the TnT interaction and the tension between T'Pol and T'Les. Thank you for writing it!

I always liked your work. What I like about this one is the ordinariness of the subject matter - cooking. Lots of important things get talked over during cooking, and it is a great subject to show cultural contrasts through. It doesn't always have to be weapons and action and dangerous situations even in Star Trek, LOL.

The character interaction and non interaction (evesdropping) were well done. And since I have a deep emotional attachment (haven't figured out why) for Liz Tucker, it was good to see you refer to her profession and flesh her character out more. I

I could not find anything to criticise to help you improve your writing, although I always try to help writers with this as I like it when people do that for me. No, this time I just enjoyed the read, which is good too, right?

Veeery nice! Thank you!

Oohhh I really like this. I love how you show T'Les's changing thoughts whilst observing Trip and T'Pol. I think your insite into her character is very good. Tood bad we didn't see more of T'Les on the show...I really liked her. Hope you continue this!

I hope you write more.

Hey sweetie! I'm finally starting to get all caught up on your stuff! (Yay me!)

Great, great, GREAT stuff. I loved it. That scene in the kitchen... so powerful. Curse Koss and his incessant need to have T'Pol!!

Anyway... I'm going to be looking for more of your stuff. :)

That's a great story! I also hope you are going to continue your alternative season 4 (the stories with Lorian alive).