Chapter 1

He had posed the same challenge to the students in each and every Xenolinguistics seminar for eight semesters running, and thus far only one cadet had been able, or even dared try, to accept his offer. Logically, any student considering specializing in language study should have been preparing years in advance of admission to the Academy. He could not understand why Earth's educational system had not sought to emulate the more rigorous methods employed by other civilizations, preferring instead to indulge in primitive forms of recreation in lieu of adequate intellectual development. If he were to ascribe a human emotion to the idle discomfiture he felt, he might call it irritation. As it was, he normally experienced a dull wave of impatience with his new crop of students and the resolve to examine his motivations for persisting in this post semester after semester when he would clearly continue to be disappointed. It was illogical to feel disappointment when he could anticipate the lack of preparation, interest, and aptitude of his students in this most important of diplomatic and tactical subjects, but he would endeavor to impart at least a healthy respect for the subject in the 94.2% of students who would change their specialization by the end of this course.

He was aware of the reasons for having been assigned at least two or three sections of Xenolinguistics or Advanced Phonology each term, despite his specializations in advanced battle simulation programming and interdimensional physics: he was as close as the Academy had to an expert in linguistics, the study having been largely marginalized after the adoption of Standard on Earth and in the near systems of the Federation; he had the dubious distinction of having traveled widely among the more important linguistic groups with his father, in his capacity as Ambassador to a number of civilizations throughout his career; and highest in his estimation of the logical reasons for his continued efforts, the students who successfully completed his course and went on to become Xenolinguists were among the most proficient and efficient cadets in Starfleet. He might wax nostalgic that this would be his final semester as an instructor here and his last opportunity to inspire, or at least terrify, the incoming class, but it was not in his nature to take pleasure in fond remembrances. He would have to meditate deeply on this human tendency to enjoy watching the dullest cadets squirm. Cadet Uhura had frequently enjoined him to practice empathizing with these ill-prepared younglings in her capacity as his teaching assistant and, he gathered from overheard discussions in the faculty building, handler. However, he saw no evidence that his treatment was actually detrimental to their development as officers and, if anything, it very likely prepared them for the moments in which they would have to think on their feet, despite gaps in their knowledge as to how to approach a novel situation. At least, that was his conclusion. Cadet Uhura found this humorous, in her fascinatingly human way, and concurred that they might at least need a little shaking up. "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger" she would cite, from her cache of human proverbs. "Challenge your preconceptions, or they will challenge you," he typically responded. These obtuse children must learn about other cultures and languages, or have their naiveté endanger themselves and their crews.

He understood the reasons for which he was assigned a teaching assistant. Ostensibly, the faculty was worried after his second semester that he would be unable to develop the kind of relationship with the students that would be necessary to keep them from dropping his class, which happened with alarming frequency. He was told, in terms that brooked no argument, that he would be taking on a cadet to assist him with his linguistics courses the following term. He could choose any cadet he found to be competent, but therein lay the problem. He had yet to come across anyone he would consider even remotely "competent." Nearing the beginning of his third semester, he was analyzing the benefits and drawbacks of choosing either Cadet Palau or Cadet Kazazumi as his assistant for the coming term, finding himself without a logical conclusion. Neither was particularly strong in the polite third register of Romulan and both butchered his own dialect of Vulcan despite hours of individual tutoring in syntax and pronunciation. Neither had been inclined to participate in his little "challenge" at the beginning of the course, causing him to seriously question their commitment to scholarship. However, he had just discovered an intriguing new candidate for the post. While she had only been in his lecture hall for a total of 22.4 minutes, she had already presented herself as a candidate for his exemption examination.

The premise was simple: submit yourself to examination in 8 of the 27 requisite languages for full competency as a Federation Xenolinguistic and Communications Officer and, if successful, receive full credit and the possibility of doing independent research in lieu of taking the introductory course. He calculated that fully two-thirds of students in an equivalent cohort of Vulcan candidates, if he were to offer the possibility, would have promptly dispensed with his class. Thus far, his statistical total among humans was null. That is, until the beginning of his third term.

He wasn't one to waste any time in class with the sort of administrative items that so many other professors covered on the first day. His duty was the edification of these ill-used young minds, not reading aloud the description of the course that they should already have received and examined prior to the beginning of the term. He settled for a protracted description of the importance of linguistics in inter-species diplomacy in his native tongue followed by an exercise: a written summary of his discourse in Standard. He found that by analyzing the quality of the students' comprehension and assigning them to study groups according to proficiency early on, he could more effectively differentiate his instruction and focus on those who showed more promise. Following this assignment, he presented his exemption challenge again, for the third time, momentarily pausing to await the response that was unlikely to come. This time, however, a strong, clear voice replied from the center of the hall in perfect Vulcan. "I submit myself to the test, Osavensu." She had chosen not only to reply in the same dialect as he had used to begin the class, but had also included the honorific specific to his position as a scholar. Impressive, but more remained to be seen. He instructed her to meet him in his office at 0800 hours the following morning and proceeded to give notes on the phonemic distinctions between colloquial and formal Orion, not bothering to ask any direct questions. There was far more than enough time to plumb the depths of their ignorance on Wednesday.

"Honored teacherSpock, may I speak with you for a moment?" The voice belonged to the same cadet who had earlier accepted his challenge.

"I find that to be acceptable, Cadet. . ." he replied in Standard, hesitating, waiting for her to supply her name.

"Uhura, sir," she replied, "First-year cadet, intended specializations in linguistics and sub-space communications engineering. I don't want to take up too much of your time, but I had a few questions about your lecture this morning, and wanted to clear them up before our meeting tomorrow."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Cadet Uhura. I have office hours now, if you would like to accompany me to the faculty building. Would that be satisfactory?"

"Quite satisfactory, provided that I arrive in time for my next lecture. I have to say, I was pleased to have been assigned to your linguistics course, Lieutenant Spock. I have read some of your papers on the development of early Romulo-Vulcan dialects and am thrilled to be able to work with you in person." Spock was thoroughly impressed that she had seamlessly dropped into Andorian and presumed, quite correctly, that Uhura was seeking to dispense with his little examination as quickly as possible.

"I find your interest in the subject refreshing, as few of my students have been aware that there were any linguistic similarities between the two at all. I wonder, how did you find my lecture today on Orion?" he continued in common Orion.

"Thank you, sir." She quickly launched into an analysis of his lecture, comparing the speech patterns of her roommate, an Orion, with those he had brought up and proposing a more in-depth study of the topic as an independent project for the semester. As he listened to her rapid-fire Orion, it occurred to him that he might have found his teaching assistant. Upon reaching his office, he abruptly began asking her questions about her prior study of linguistics in the low-caste dialect of Cardassian, to which she replied confidently, with a glitter in her dark eyes, in Traditional Golic Vulcan. "Are you a student of Vulcan literature, Cadet?" he inquired, this time seeking something more obscure, in the archaic dialect of Highland Golic. "It is among my interests, especially the writings of Surak, though that should hardly surprise you given my study of Traditional Golic. I was hoping that I might have an opportunity to talk with you more about the Kir'Shara. I haven't often had the opportunity to discuss philosophy, much less the teachings of Surak, with an actual Vulcan."

"I would find that most agreeable, Cadet Uhura. Now, with respect to our examination tomorrow, I believe that you have most admirably provided me with enough evidence that you have at least seven of the requisite Federation languages under competent control. I have observed enough to make a recommendation to the faculty committee: I have the intention of offering you a position as my teaching assistant for the semester, if you should be interested. It will require a great deal of effort on your part, but I believe that the experience and research opportunities will be well worth your time." He was rewarded with a broad smile, of the kind that he normally found so disconcerting and only rarely bestowed upon himself, given the coolness others perceived in his lack of emotional display.

"I accept, sir. Thank you for placing your confidence in me! When shall I report to begin?" She smoothed her red uniform and tossed her long ponytail behind her shoulder, straightening her posture and obviously trying to convey her readiness for the assignment. Spock was becoming more adept at interpreting students' body language, even if he had no desire to try to emulate it. While he found his mother's excessive displays of enthusiasm somewhat embarrassing as a child, he had come to understand more fully how emotions were translated into movement for the human species. It was an informal study, but one that he devoted much time to given the constant bombardment of human interaction he experienced on the campus.

"0800 hours tomorrow would be acceptable, as I no longer have an examination to administer." He supposed that this might pass as mild humor and was not incorrect. She smiled again and thanked him before taking leave, and he felt a mild twinge of something when she exited the room. He pondered it for a moment, probing the feeling, and decided that it must be his realization that he might have found at least one human with the kind of intellectual drive that he had found severely lacking since leaving Vulcan, even among his colleagues at the Academy.