After the Christmas Party

Disclaimer: No filthy lucre changed hands.

Summary: Mrs. Malvin's class at Worley Elementary School in Kenmare, County Kerry, Ireland is putting on a Christmas play. It is 15 years after the episode "Breaking The Ice" in which her class sent drawings and letters to Enterprise. It is also four years after my story "Vulcans Don't Take Baths". T'Lizzie is now ten years old and has a four year old brother.

The babble in the classroom was undecipherable and the movement of twenty-five children was pure chaos.

"Children!" Mrs. Malvin shouted above the din in her authoritative teacher's voice. "I know you are all excited. Our Christmas play was a great success! But please, we need to clean up now so you can join your families in the gym for the party. Mary and Lilly, you are in charge of putting the caps back on the makeup jars and taking a wet cloth to clean up spilled powder. Terry, please take another cloth and wipe the makeup off everyone's face, oh, and pull all the elf ears off and put them in a box. Rory and Ellen, pick up the costumes and stuff them in the laundry basket by the door. I will be collecting your scripts. If I don't get to you before you are ready to leave, just put your script on my desk. And if you are going home instead of to the party, Merry Christmas to you! See you next year!

Mrs. Malvin sighed and sat down for a second before she started to collect the scripts. She had five sets of scripts that she alternated for the yearly holiday play which she had supervised for the twenty-three years she had been a teacher at Worley Elementary School. Although the children in her class now represented several religious traditions, the Christian group still was the largest. So far, there were no complaints about favoritism among religions and she did make an effort to recognize each religion, the class celebrating a major holiday associated with each. The children participated in all of these with enthusiasm.

"Hey you knocked that right out of my hand!" complained Lilly as she bent down to pick up a jar of powder after Rory backed into her.

"Sorry!" he laughed and skipped over to the basket by the door with a heap of costumes.

Terry grinned and smiled at Lilly, "just sweep it up, Sis; I'll help when I'm through pulling off ears."

"Ouch! That hurts!"

"Oh, sorry, T'Lizzie, laughed Terry, stroking her ear in apology. "Your ear is so warm, I must have hurt it. I am really, really sorry."

T'Lizzie , half out of her elf costume, backed away from him. "Just be more careful, will you? My skin is warmer to you because your skin is cooler to me." She was rubbing her ear herself. "Um, I am undamaged." The residual effect of his touching her was now more distasteful than the sharp pull on her ear had been.

"Okay, I will," he grinned sheepishly, turning to another child and gently working at another elf ear.

"Your Mum and Dad here?" Mary asked as T'Lizzie was pulling down her elf trousers.

"Yes. Dad just got in this afternoon. My mother has been here since Tuesday. My Aunt Jenny's house is overflowing with relatives staying here for the holidays."

"Our house too! Though my relatives don't come from so far away. Why aren't you living on a space ship or space station with your parents? That is where they met isn't it? I read all about your family. You are famous."

"I do not like being famous. My parents' jobs keep them moving around a lot. My brother is too young to be effected by this yet. I told them I dislike losing friends that it takes me so long to make, then have all the bother of making new ones again. So they left me with my aunt for a whole year, though I know they had mixed feelings about it. Me too. But I like being in this school. My parents want me to experience all the cultures the people in my family represent. I'll be here for the rest of the year, and then we are all moving back to Vulcan again. Dad will be in a research facility there, and Mom will be coordinating a Human-Vulcan science student exchange program."

"Wow, that is more than you have told me about yourself in all the months since you came here. I guess that means we are really now friends? I am honored," Mary said displaying a huge grin. "I wish my family could move around like that. What an exciting life."

"Well, it has its down side. I do not like to have to pack and move all the time. They discussed it and I think we will be staying on Vulcan for a long time after this school year if they can arrange it."

"Oh," frowned Mary, "I will certainly miss you when you leave. Say, will you send me photos from Vulcan?"

"I will. And you let me know what is going on here. But moving is months away, not until the end of the next term. We better hurry; the party has been going on for 10.5 minutes already. Here, Mrs. Malvin, my script."

"Thank you, T'Lizzie."

Mrs. Malvin added the script to the pile balanced on her left arm. She moved on to the next child, her thoughts still on her one Vulcan student. The girl was polite to fault in class, but oh so serious and hard to draw out at times. She was way ahead in math so that her teachers had to tap into Vulcan sources to give her challenging math homework. And except for Mary, a very bright and studious child herself, T'Lizzie did not make friends easily. Most of the other children thought her snobbish and standoffish. She did seem to think most of their games and discussions childish, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes much of the time during recess.

Depositing the scripts on her desk, Mrs. Malvin turned to see survey the classroom. Half the kids had gone to the gym and most of the cleanup had been done.

"Alright, the rest of you may leave for the party now. I will finish the cleanup."

"Yeah!"

"Alright!"

"Race ya to the gym!"

"No, walk," said Mrs. Malvin, looking pointedly at each remaining child in turn.

They made a show of exaggerated walking as they filed out the door, but she heard the patter of running feet once they were out of her sight. She sighed, and went around the room picking up things here and there. She wanted very much to talk to T'Lizzie's parents as they had not been able to make the parent-teacher conferences. Vmails did not have the same immediate conversational flow; they subtly inhibited full information exchange . She thought back to the first contact she had with them. That was before they had even been a celebrity interspecies couple.

Years ago, she had sent a packet of her class's drawings and letters to Enterprise. The vid the Enterprise crew sent back was delightful. She had chuckled on seeing Captain, then Commander, Tucker's noticeable embarrassment on having to answer that question on toilets in space. When she had learned there was a Vulcan crewman on board, she also worried about some of those green-faced drawings. None of her class at that time had ever seen a Vulcan up close, though Vulcans were certainly all over the news vids - especially that stern faced ambassador. And now, she had a Vulcan child right in her fourth grade class - the child of Captain Tucker no less!

Well, the classroom was back in order - as much as she cared to deal with it right now. Mrs. Malvin was hungry and wanted to get a bit to eat before everything was gobbled up at the party. She took one last look around, turned off the lights and shut the classroom door.

T'Pol grabbed four year-old Satik's hand to keep him from taking more candy from the food table. She turned again to Mrs. Malvin and said "T'Lizzie is growing fast. Her school uniform is getting a little short for her. But she seems to like school here more than the Vulcan Community School in the Sausalito compound."

"Yeah," Trip jumped into the conversation after examining his daughter's pulled ear. "And if you are still sending drawings of Vulcans to Starfleet ships, they are probably more accurate now that you have a resident model to copy."

Mrs. Malvin reddened. "We have come a long way in knowledge of our neighbors in the universe. Especially in knowledge about the Federation's founding worlds. I have not yet had any Andorians or Teleriates in my class, but we had a group of Denobulian educators visit our school last year. And say, Captain Tucker," Mrs. Malvin gave him a smile with a glint in her eye. "Any updates on starship recycling systems to regale us with? I am sure my current class could come up with questions as interesting as the one Molly McCook asked fifteen years ago."

Trip shifted from one foot to the other, trying not to grin sheepishly. "Yes, there have been improvements over the last fifteen years. Well, I might, that is, I am sure I could, arrange a Starfleet sanitation expert to telecommute to your class with much better info than I could give. My area is warp engine development. Wouldn't that be of more interest to your class?"

"You never know with children, what will catch their interest," grinned Mrs. Malvin. "Your nephew was a bright lad, but Molly McCook had an amazing grasp of science and technology for a girl her age. I believe she now is doing graduate studies in bioengineering."

"Say, you should get HER to speak to your class on waste recycling now," Trip suggested.

"Good suggestion," Agreed Mrs. Malvin.

T'Pol was kneeling in front of Satik and reaching into his pockets to remove several pieces of candy. She stood and handed the stash to Trip for disposal before addressing Mrs. Malvin. "T'Lizzie seems well adjusted to living with Trip's Aunt Jenny here in Ireland for a year. I would like to speak with you about her progress in school. Is she doing better in language arts?"

As T'Pol's attention was diverted, Satik slipped his hand out of his mother's hand. He leaned his head against her leg, so she let him be.

"Mrs. Tucker, she has been improving. The local accent has not impaired her understanding, but she has not been speaking English for very long, has she?"

"Correct. Since birth up until she was six years old, she spoke only Vulcan. When we moved to Earth, she then attended the Vulcan school for diplomat children which also used the Vulcan language with an optional class in English - a half hour per day. She had to speak English when we visited Trip's parent's home, but since we were there most of the time with her, we translated when necessary. She only spent a few days at any one time, alone with her grandparents. One of those times was during the birth of her brother, and other times were only for a few days while her father and I went to a conference or needed some time by ourselves."

"So even on Earth, she mostly spoke Vulcan for the past few years?"

"Well, yes," said Trip. "We thought we would ease her into the language because she had so many other alien things to get used to. Like red traffic lights meaning stop instead of go. After four years in the Vulcan school, we decided she was overdue for a bit of English language immersion and your school seemed just the ticket."

"I am honored you chose us. Irish schools do have a good reputation. I do wish she had more than one year with us, though one year certainly will improve her English language skills. She is even beginning to catch on in her Gaelic class. She is talented in science and math. But while languages do not seem to be her strong point, she is progressing well."

Trip glanced around. "T'Pol, I thought you were holding Satik's hand."

"I was, for a while. Then he let go but was content to lean against me. He seems to have slipped away again."

"I'll go round him up. Maybe he's with T'Lizzie. I saw her come in and head for the food table. I'll bet he saw her and went over there. Say, that ham was great."

"A local pig farmer provided it," explained Mrs. Malvin. "He smokes them on his farm and gifts the school with one each year for our Christmas play and party."

Trip navigated around small groups of people standing around talking and eating. The festive food table, dressed in a red and green paper skirt, was still loaded with home baked cakes and cookies, yet something seemed missing. There was the bread for making sandwiches...but the platter of ham was gone. Maybe someone took it into the school kitchen, which was right off the gym, to cut up more sandwich-size slices. Trip shrugged. He would like another sandwich but first he must collar his son and daughter to make sure they were okay and not getting into trouble. He had found that Vulcan kids were just as naughty as Human kids if given the chance.

After a circuit of the entire gym, Trip was starting to get annoyed and a little worried. Many children were standing quietly with their parents or talking in an animated way about their parts in the play. One girl still held her flute cradled in her arm as if it were her most prized possession. She had played a solo so sweetly; she must have had years of lessons to her credit. And that boy with freckles all over like chicken pox, he was bound to grow up to be a championship fiddler, in Trip's estimation. Neither of his own kids were musical, but then no one in his or T'Pol's family were either...except for his mom...and dear Lizzie. Well, best not to dwell on that right now. Where were the kids?

He stepped into the hallway. Ah, there was T'Lizzie, sitting along the wall with a group of friends, paper plates on the floor in front of them, scarfing down cookies.

"Hey, Pumpkin, how about spending some time with me and your mom?"

"Oh, hi, Dad. Um, this is Mary, and Liam, and Terry. My friends. They were all in the play, did you see them?"

"Hello, Mary, and Liam, and Terry. Yes I saw you, but I don't know who was who since you all were in costume. Say, have you seen your brother?"

"Yeah, he was getting food. Again. But Rory's dog had gotten in and Satik was trying to drag him to the back door of the gym because someone said pets were not allowed in the school. That's the last I saw of him because Mary was telling me we would have more room to eat out here." T'Lizzie frowned. "Was I supposed to be watching him? Mom did not tell me to."

"No, stay with your friends until you finish eating. Come back and join your mom and me in about 15 minutes, okay?"

"Sure, Dad."

"See you all later. Great play, guys!"

Trip hurried back inside the gym. A few families had left already, so it was easier to check around. Still no sign of Satik.

"Hey where's the ham?" One mother asked, moving along the food table, restocking her plate.

"I didn't even get one sandwich yet," whined a girl following close behind the woman who then replied, "That is because you ate all the deserts first."

"Me neither! I didn't get any ham!" complained a rather stout boy.

"Oh yes you did! You already had two sandwiches," the whiny girl had turned to admonish the boy.

Trip was now very worried. Then he saw the paper table skirt move. A dog's tail swept out beneath it, wagging back and forth. Trip strode over and lifted the skirt. People near the table stopped talking and stared. Underneath the table sat a medium-sized dog and Satik. The dog was happily lapping up the last bits of ham off a silver platter.

"Satik! What the heck are you doing under there?" asked a very surprised and embarrassed Trip.

"Hi, Dad!" Satik crawled out and stood with a self-satisfied expression in front of his puzzled father.

"Well?" asked Trip.

"Okay. So they were kicking the dog out. But he was hungry. He said he had not eaten all day."

"Now, Son, dogs don't talk. You gave him the whole platter of meat? Son, that was people food, not dog food."

By this time, T'Pol had approached and brushed against Trip's left arm. A wider group of parents had quit their individual conversations and now were standing around looking down at the Vulcan boy and the dog with its tongue hanging out, a happy doggie smile on its face, pushing the boy's hand with his nose.

Satik's expression got defensive as he noticed all the people staring at him. He put one arm over the dog's neck and the other around his father's leg, for moral support.

"Dogs DO talk! Sort of. He was trying to say something with his eyes. I was not sure what. So I, you know, reached my hand up to his face and spread my fingers along his cheek bone. I understood his thoughts. He wanted that meat so badly."

"You mind-melded with a dog?"

Satik's face fell at his father's raised voice. He buried his head into the side of Trip's trouser leg.

There were raised eyebrows and smothered laughs among the adults. By this time in Terran-Vulcan relations, the mysterious Vulcan practice of mind-melding was not entirely unheard of. In fact, it had the reputation of a well known SECRET like some Masonic gestures and other fraternal order rituals. T'Pol went into blank Vulcan mode, though inside she was mortified that her son would do such a thing.

There was a moment of complete silence broken only when T'Pol bent down and picked Satik off his father's leg and then had to pry his little hand off the dog's collar. She looked briefly at the astonished faces standing in a semi-circle around them and said "Our deepest apologies. Of course we will reimburse the school for the piece of meat."

She then nodded formally and turned, giving her mate an eye message that needed no interpretation, and exited the gym with as much dignity as she could muster while carrying a naughty little boy. She was trailed by a happy dog jauntily trotting at her heels.

Trip followed in T'Pol's wake, beckoning to T'Lizzie who followed immediately when she noticed her parents' expressions. Like most parents who feel they will never live down public embarrassment at the hands of their children, it took an hour after the children were in bed for them to start discussing the incident. Their discussion lasted well into the night.

No doubt this incident would be the talk of the school and the town, for years to come - an incident that would mortify any proud and proper Vulcan. But the next day, Trip and T'Pol were assured by Irish relatives and friends that in this pet loving community Satik had endeared himself to everyone. Despite some people missing their second or third ham sandwich, the fact that a Vulcan child could be naughty in the same way as a Human child, with the intention of making a pet happy, meant all was forgiven - especially during this holiday season of joy and good will.