Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em.

Notes: As a fellow linguist, I can sympathize when Hoshi's supposed to translate something with Captain Archer (or someone else) impatiently hanging over her shoulder. I also know what if feels when you finally translate a reading passage and someone says, "That it? That's all there is?"

Grrr.

There are several African languages, like Xhosa, that use clicks and other "glottal stops" as a normal part of their language. These are notoriously difficult to learn because they use sounds that aren't found in English. The name of the people in this First Contact story is the "Iz(cluck)Yeen." That's "cluck" as "the sound a chicken makes". And the clicking sounds of their language are marked by (parentheses).

I read an article on how to be a United Nations translator and came up with this idea.

Rating: T for language

Language Notes: Translations for Chef's and Hoshi's Italian are in bold. "Lei" is the formal "you". "Tu" is the informal, used among very close friends and family. Malcolm says something in French too.

Pairings: TnT and R/S

Squawk means Hello, Cluck Means Goodbye

Chapter One

"Squaa-(click, click)-bwaawk-bwaawk, (cluck-click)clawk-braaaawk."

Heads turned all over the Bridge. T'Pol raised an eyebrow as she gazed at the linguist at the comm station. Captain Archer's mouth twitched as he struggled to keep a straight face. Travis Mayweather wasn't so lucky; he clapped his hands over his mouth as a strangled chortle made its way out of his throat.

Hoshi Sato ignored them all. She concentrated on the cadence of the voice in her ear piece and mentally translated the odd vocalization into Standard English. To her, it was a complex and utterly fascinating language, even if it made her sound like an angry bird.

"The Iz(Cluck)Yeen invite us to their royal celebration, Captain. Their First Henn would be honored if we accepted; she is eager to meet you in particular, sir."

"First Hen?" Archer repeated, trying (and failing) to keep the smirk from his face.

"It's pronounced "he-yenn", Captain. Stretch the vowel out, stress on the last syllable." Hoshi sounded a bit miffed. "Think of her like Queen Elizabeth. She wouldn't be amused if someone called her female barn fowl."

Malcolm Reed coughed from his Tactical station. "God forbid we insult their version of the Queen."

Archer nodded in agreement, then replied, "Relay our acceptance to the First He-yenn that we accept her generous offer."

She nodded and passed on the message. This time, muted snickers echoed from the conference table at the back of the Bridge. Archer pretended to look down at his PADD, Malcolm smirked, and T'Pol's eyebrow climbed higher and higher. Hoshi's face became redder and redder as she noticed the attention, but her speech remained calm and perfectly on-key.

"She's sending all the cultural and other pertinent information right now, sir." Hoshi listened intently. "It appears that the First Henn requests clothing sizes for all personnel in the diplomatic party."

"Clothing sizes?" Archer asked.

"Suitable costumes. The Iz(cluck)Yeen have traditional holiday wear for occasions like these."

The captain nodded. "Have her clothiers coordinate with the Quartermaster's department. They should have all of our current measurements on file."

Hoshi relayed the message, causing more chuckles from the crew, then nodded in satisfaction. "She graciously expects us in 200 'bwaaawk-bak-squaaak', or 16 hours, sir. The clothing will be sent up as quickly as possible."

"Tell her thank you and we look forward to visiting her planet. Archer, out."

Several musical clucks later, Hoshi nodded again and closed the channel. She rubbed at her throat. "Their language is pretty hard on a Human's throat."

T'Pol nodded in sympathy. "Its grammatical structure is similar to Vulcan, but there are several fricatives and glottal stops that even a Vulcan would find difficult to reproduce adequately. The fact that you are able to do so is a monumental achievement."

T'Pol's voice reminded everyone of the effort Hoshi put into these First Contact communications. Hoshi looked at her and smiled in gratitude. There were many times when her linguistic talent was taken for granted, especially by Captain Archer.

Archer heard the gentle rebuke in his first officer's words. He went over to the comm station and placed a hand on Hoshi's shoulder. "Good job, Hoshi. We don't thank you enough for what you do on the ship."

She blushed in response. "Thank you, sir." She was saved by a soft pinging sound from her console. "That should be the information for the celebration. I'll go over it to make sure there aren't any...complications."

"If there are, it's better than we know now rather than later. Inform me when you're finished."

Hoshi nodded, retrieved the data disk from her station and fled into the turbolift. She sighed as she leaned against the back wall and rubbed her throat again. It was time for some warm tea with honey and a few moments just by herself.

Chef insisted that she 'borrow' his largest tea cup, the one usually reserved for his personal use. Then he measured the loose tea by hand, boiled the water in a kettle, and poured the aromatic brew himself. Hoshi insisted that all this wasn't necessary, but Chef's tone brooked no argument.

"You do so much for us, Signorina. Allow me to do something nice for you." He broke the seal on a vacuum-sealed jar of genuine honey and added two generous spoonfuls of the stuff into the tea before presenting it to her.

"Molto grazie, Antonio," Hoshi murmured. "Lei e troppo gentile." (You're too kind.)

Chef clucked his tongue. "Quanto volte devo dirti, che mi puoi chiamare da 'tu'?" (How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me by 'tu'?"

Hoshi chuckled. "Mi dispiace. E'un abitudine."(Sorry. Habit.)

She sat on a wooden stool in the kitchen and sipped at the tea, made perfectly like always. Chef surveyed the recipes she had brought him and chuckled. "So. No baked turkeys, no stuffed pheasant, no small game hens. A huge bowl of your equivalent of...snack mix?"

"Not just that, Antonio," she huffed and pointed to other items on the menu. "Some tuber-like vegetables in some pepper sauce and soup in hollowed-out gourds."

"Remind me to tell you of the time I shared a kitchen with a Hallorian. One of the greatest culinary geniuses I ever met...with claws so sharp she didn't need a knife, and she came up with a caffeine substitute that was safe for her kind and another for Dawgonians...won the Lagasse Award for Creative Cuisine-"

"Bam," Hoshi said with a grin.

"Ah, you've been watching Crewman Cunningham's series of instructional videos, then."

"They're very entertaining."

Chef nodded and grinned as he tapped the PADD. "Well, I believe I can make these in short order, Hoshi. Leave it to me."

"Grazie , Antonio. I do appreciate your help."

"For you, anything. Now, let me work, and I'll let you know when all is ready."

Hoshi refilled her tea cup and as she left the Galley, she felt much better. She was halfway to her quarters when her commuicator went off. "Sato here."

"Hoshi, this is Chief Desgauld," came the voice of Master Chief Antoine Desgauld, Enterprise's Quartermaster. "The first of the holiday costumes have arrived, including yours."

"I'll be right there, Chief."

"I gotta admit, these Iz-Clucky people are snazzy dressers." Trip Tucker said, as he examined the fabric of his dark blue festival shirt. It clung to his body like a second skin, soft and comfortable like nothing he'd ever owned in his own closet. A closer inspection revealed that it was made of interlocking ovals of fabric, seamlessly woven together. The black pants were made in a similar fashion.

"Yeah," agreed Travis Mayweather. His tunic was a warm yellow and orange, adorned with beads resembling little wings. A jaunty fez-like hat perched on his head. The whole ensemble made Travis look like an African chieftain, down to the beaded sandals.

Malcolm leaned against Shuttlepod One, as he admired the thin-bladed knife that was part of his costume. 'Knife' was a misnomer; it resembled an icepick more than anything else. The rippled steel was deceptive. It could cut through paper...or a thick PADD...like butter. Malcolm had found that out by accident.

"They didn't give you any explosives, did they?" Trip asked him.

"No, but I'd be interested in discussing weaponry with them."

Trip laughed. "Figures they'd dress you up as a 22nd century version of D'Artagnan."

Malcolm shrugged as he looked down at the silver-and-blue tunic and breeches. The Iz(cluck)Yeen had even given him a cape, a la French Musketeer. It gave him a dangerously rakish look. "I wonder if these people are simply more perceptive, or if they read our bios to find something suitable for our backgrounds."

"In that case, I wonder what Commander T'Pol and Hoshi are wearing," Travis quipped.

"And Captain Archer."

Trip shrugged. "I guess we'll find out soon enough-"

The doors opened to admit Archer, T'Pol and Hoshi. The captain's green-gold tunic matched his eyes perfectly, and the four golden squares at the collar marked his rank. Trip's mouth dropped open at the elegant midnight blue gown that T'Pol wore. She also wore a circlet of gold, with a soft veil of blue feathers that fell from the circlet and straight down her back.

"Wow," Trip breathed.

Travis elbowed Malcolm and said in a loud stage whisper, "You're gaping, Malcolm." The Armory Officer closed his mouth, but he couldn't take his eyes off Hoshi. Not that anyone blamed him.

Hoshi's ruby red dress was of similar cut to T'Pol's, with scalloped sleeves and tightly fitted bodice. It was gathered at the waist, to flow in gentle waves to the floor. The fabric was woven with interlocking ovals, like Trip's shirt, but each oval was outlined in gold. She wore no circlet, but beaded feathers were woven into her long, black hair.

Malcolm finally shook off his paralysis and nodded at Archer. "Sir, everything's ready for our arrival. They're expecting us."

"Very well, Lieutenant. Let's get this show on the road." Archer exchanged smiles with Travis and followed the helmsman into the shuttlepod.

Malcolm bowed slightly and offered his arm to Hoshi. "Allons-y, Mademoiselle?" (Shall we go, my lady?)

She slipped her arm within his and let help her into the shuttlepod. T'Pol raised an eyebrow, but Trip only chuckled and whispered, "I'll explain once we're on our way."

"I would be grateful." T'Pol inclined her head at him as they were the last to board.