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The one class the War College and the Academy shared this semester was xenolinguistics.
This was…fine. Genesis was good at linguistics, always had been, so she hadn’t been too worried when she got assigned to the same study group as Tarima, Caleb, Sam, and Ocam. Sam was a genius, Caleb knew his way around a dictionary, and Tarima and Ocam were well-versed diplomats. All of them found the course material almost offensively easy.
Until they got to the unit on Betazoid languages.
Betazed had left the Federation decades ago, and while Starfleet still had a functional dictionary from the pre-Burn era, the Betazoid language had evolved over that time. In close conferring with the Council, Starfleet had been updating the dictionary, but Genesis had been frustrated to find her near-perfect Betazoid was, in fact, not perfect.
Something Tarima found funny.
Genesis tried not to grind her teeth as she looked down at her notes.
“I’ve got to go,” Caleb said, frowning down at his PADD. “Ake wants to see me.”
“Oh, no!” Tarima exclaimed. “We’re just getting to the grammar of interpersonal relationship terms.”
Genesis tried not to roll her eyes and instead made intense eye contact at Sam. Sam, however, was swiping through her PADD, absorbing information at a disturbingly rapid rate.
“I’ve memorised this section of the dictionary,” she said suddenly, looking up with a dazzling smile. “I have a meeting with the Doctor in fifteen minutes. I’ll be leaving as well.”
Genesis bit her tongue so she would not say “Don’t leave me!” out loud.
“I’m going to see if Darem wants to grab a coffee,” Ocam got to his feet. “He’s in xenobiology right now, but he’ll be finishing soon.”
“Great,” Genesis said. “Looks like study group is breaking up for the day.”
Tarima shot her wounded eyes. “Don’t you want to keep going? I know you’ve been struggling with the updated grammar the most.”
Genesis closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled slowly. She’s trying to be nice, she reminded herself, but it didn’t change that she – for the most part – found the president’s daughter to be a huge pain in the ass.
“Sure,” she said, opening them and forcing a smile. “We can keep going if you want. I’ll get a leg up on this lot.”
“As if,” Caleb said, but he winked, heading back toward the building with Sam at his heels. Ocam signed something quick to Tarima, his hands moving so fast Genesis didn’t catch it, and trailed after them.
Genesis cast her eyes downwards, swiping through screens on her PADD as Tarima worked quietly beside her. She murmured each term under her breath, trying to commit them to memory, and only looked up when Tarima said, “No, no, place emphasis on the last syllable.”
“I am,” Genesis ground out. “Govanna.”
“Better,” Tarima smiled. “Definition?”
“Grandmother,” Genesis replied.
“Do you know grandfather and grandparent?”
Genesis rolled her eyes. “Yes. Govanni and Govanno.”
“Other way around.” Tarima went back to her notes. “You’re doing great, though.”
Genesis frowned down at her PADD and didn’t reply. She was good at this. She had always been good at this. She knew that she should be grateful she had been blessed with a native speaker of the language in her study group – two, in fact – but Tarima just made her so annoyed.
“I understand you’re frustrated,” Tarima said kindly, reaching out and placing a hand over hers. “We can keep working until you get it.”
“I’m not frustrated,” Genesis said, snatching her hand away. Tarima looked at her, wide-eyed, the tiniest crease appearing between her eyebrows.
“Did I do something to upset you?”
“No.”
Yes.
But Genesis couldn’t work out what it was.
Tarima picked at the side of her thumbnail for a moment, then said, “I can tell you don’t like me.”
“I do like you.” Genesis set her PADD down in the grass and folded her arms over her chest, a desperate attempt at feeling less vulnerable. “I want to be your friend.”
“You don’t act like it.” Tarima’s doe-like eyes bore into Genesis, and she got the uncomfortable feeling the girl was actively trying to read her feelings, which was not cool. But, she supposed, if she was an empath she’d probably do the same. The dark-haired girl shifted uncomfortably. “Is this because of Caleb?”
“No.” Genesis glared at the ground.
“You always feel…” Tarima paused, uncertain how to continue. “Jealous,” she said after a moment. “You don’t like when Caleb is nice to me.”
“It’s not about Caleb,” Genesis snapped. Her gaze flickered upward for a second, and Tarima’s eyes widened a second later.
“Oh,” she said. Then, “Oh.”
“Get out of my head.”
“You…” Tarima bit her lip. “You don’t like when Caleb is nice to me because you like me.”
“What?! No!” Genesis looked away, her cheeks flushing pink. “I don’t know what it is, okay? I don’t – I’m not – I’m figuring some stuff out.”
“It’s okay,” Tarima started, but Genesis cut her off.
“Why do so many Betazoid terms lean on the feminine form as a gender-neutral, but grandparent doesn’t?”
Tarima fell silent, picking at her thumbnail again. “We’re matriarchal. The same way Standard, based on the English language of Old Earth, uses masculine terms for neutral words.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Gen. That’s just how it is.”
There was a glimmer of something in her chest she immediately tried to squash down. People didn’t tend to give her nicknames – even to her parents she was Genesis – so she tried not to enjoy how casually Tarima had thrown it out. Tried, mostly failed, but she stared at the grass and refused to make eye contact.
“You’re very hard to read, Gen, you know that?”
Genesis looked up. “No, I’m not. Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” Tarima said. “I would never lie. Betazoids don’t lie. You’re…conflicted.”
Genesis opened her mouth to argue, but what came out instead was a laugh. She pinched the bridge of her nose and stared down at her PADD, unsure what to say in reply to that. Of course she was conflicted. She wasn’t the first Dar-Sha in Starfleet, but her father had placed very high expectations on her – getting involved with anyone, especially the quasi-princess of the Betazoid consortium, could pose a logistical nightmare for her future career. So, yes, she was conflicted. She knew she felt something towards Tarima, but she’d yet to work out if it was love or hate or both in equal measure. She had it so easy. Everything seemed to be handed to her.
A flash of guilt burst through her. She shouldn’t – she shouldn’t be thinking any of this, especially in front of the girl in question, especially when the girl in question to feel her feelings.
“Genesis?” Tarima said quietly, reaching out again and touching her arm. Genesis’s eyes finally met hers once more, those obsidian eyes studying her with a quiet consideration. “Can I try something?”
“Like what?” Genesis swallowed.
“Like this,” Tarima said, leaning forward and pressing their lips together.
Something happened in that moment. There was an outpouring of fondness between the two girls, to the point Genesis could not tell where her feelings ended and Tarima’s began. As she reached up to cup Tarima’s face, the Betazoid deepened the kiss, her hand moving from Genesis’s arm to her shoulder and pulling her closer. It lasted somewhere between a second and a lifetime, and of the two, Genesis could not tell which it was. When they broke apart, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
“Did that clarify things for you?” Tarima asked.
“Yes,” Genesis groaned. “Okay, so what? I like you. Big deal. You’re still making eyes at Caleb every two seconds.”
“Caleb is…” Tarima pursed her lips. “A friend. A good friend, someone I care for deeply, but…not someone I see like that.”
“What, and I am?”
“You’re what?”
“Someone you see like that.”
Tarima studied the Dar-Sha’s face for a moment. “It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, so’s everything else,” Genesis snorted.
Tarima looked away. “Gen,” she said after a moment. “I do like you.”
Genesis worked very hard on not feeling anything when she replied, but still, hope rushed through her and Tarima smiled. “You do?”
“Yes.” Tarima exhaled slowly.
“But?”
“But I don’t think I’m ready to act on it,” Tarima replied. She took Genesis’s hand again, and this time, Genesis allowed it. The soft contact between them made her feel…almost at ease. “How about this – we keep studying together for the rest of the semester and see what happens.”
Genesis squeezed her hand. “I’m open to that. But, obviously, if you do decide you want to give me a shot, I’ll need the full Betazoid girlfriend treatment. Pet names, private shuttles, a seat at every diplomat dinner…”
Tarima squinted at her. “You’re…joking?”
Genesis flashed her a smile. “Yes.”
They shared a laugh, neither willing to let go of the other’s hand.
“Speaking of pet names,” Genesis said, tapping something on her PADD, “Can you explain these to me?”
“Qiymadi can mean boyfriend, girlfriend, or significant other,” Tarima said, “But it has connotations of like – a young relationship, a newer relationship. The term for two people who are together forever is imzadi.”
“I know that one,” Genesis said, running the fingers of her free hand through the grass. “It means beloved, right?”
“Yes,” Tarima nodded. “But it has a certain connotation, too – soulmate. The person you are sure about. The person who will always have your back. The person that, every time you kiss, you become one.”
“Huh,” Genesis said. She glanced over at Tarima’s face and realised her pale cheeks had flushed pink. “Become one how?”
“You can’t tell where they end and you begin,” she explained. “Your feelings are one, your bodies are one, your very souls are one. The four deities made you for each other.”
Genesis thought back to their kiss and said, “Oh.”
Tarima’s blush deepened. “Of course, to find one’s imzadi is…no easy task. Nobody gets it their first go.”
“Of course,” Genesis said.
They fell silent, each deep in thought. Tarima reached up to rub the skin just beneath her neural inhibitor, shifting uncomfortably.
“It itches?” Genesis guessed. Tarima nodded.
“Sometimes I get a hypospray so I don’t notice it, but…” She shrugged. “I’m mostly used to it. It just annoys me sometimes.”
“How about a distraction?” Genesis said. “I don’t know about you but I’m sick of conjugating Betazoid verbs or whatever. Let’s go to the mess, get a bite to eat.”
Tarima looked thoughtful. “Can you show me some good Dar-Sha food from the replicator? I mostly eat…you know. Our food. I want to explore everything the universe has to offer. Food included.”
Genesis laughed. “You’re not going to like our food. It’s spicy.”
“I love spicy!”
She smiled. “I believe you. Okay. Let’s go.”
They packed their things away. Genesis got up first and pulled Tarima to her feet, slinging her bag over one shoulder. As the made their way to the mess, Tarima reached out and slipped her hand into Genesis’s once more.
Gen found she didn’t mind at all.