Title: Alien Holiday Author: DebC Rating: PG Keywords: Hoshi, mild humor Characters: Hoshi Sato Pairing: none Spoilers: none Disclaimers: Enterprise belong to Paramount, UPN and Star Trek. I have no affiliation with them and am getting nothing out of this fanfic whatsoever, except an outlet for an idea and hopefully a smile or two from the people reading it.

Summary: That's what you get for letting yourself get excited about something, Hoshi told herself. Left behind.

"Alien Holiday"

The best thing about being on the Enterprise, in Hoshi's mind, had always been meeting new cultures. As a linguist, she was fascinated by not only the languages, but the people behind them. Who they were, how they lived... that sort of thing. It was a rare thing when the Enterprise came in contact with new peoples and actually got to see their home world. As the Communications Officer, she'd been expected to go alone with the away team as soon as the Captain announced that they'd been invited as "ambassadors of goodwill" to join in the Dylorean festival of the Twin Suns. The closest thing Archer could liken it to was a New Years Eve celebration. Start of a new season. "Something like that," he'd said, and despite the fact that he had no idea what he'd been talking about, Hoshi had been excited.

The Dyloreans sent, via a series of transmissions, an overview of their customs for the celebration and a list of things they expected from the crew of the Enterprise. T'Pol went over them with the crew, lecturing them about past failed attempts at diplomacy. Basically, it all boiled down to "don't screw up this time." Not that T'Pol would have said such a thing, not that crudely anyway. She did, however, arch an eyebrow when the captain grinned and promised that everyone would be on their best behavior this time.

Which was a difficult promise to keep considering that as soon as the away team stepped out of the holding chamber, they were confronted with armed guards. A few tense minutes past in which Hoshi tried to translate Archer's demands for an explanation while the man who appeared to be in charge ignored her. Finally, he pointed to her and ranted in Dylorean.

"He says," Hoshi translated, "that I'm not welcome."

"Well, why the Hell not?" Trip folded his arms across his chest and frowned. "We can't just leave Hoshi behind."


"See ya, Hosh," Trip said as the men were escorted from the holding chamber after almost an hour of deliberations. The Dyloreans had made themselves perfectly clear: women weren't warriors. Hoshi's presence as a female member of their delegation threatened the Dyloreans with an entire season of bad luck.

That's what you get for letting yourself get excited about something, Hoshi told herself. Left behind. She gave Trip and Malcolm a small smile. They looked uncomfortable as they prepared to leave with their escort.

"You sure you're alright with this?" Archer asked for the final time.

"I'm fine. The universal translator should work... it's not the same as having someone at your side, but it'll work. Just don't lose it," she warned.


Hoshi was bored.

It was bad enough being stuck in this holding chamber while the guys were off making merry at the celebration. Or at least, she assumed they were. The holding chamber was virtually sound proof and there were no windows to speak of. Which meant that Hoshi was isolated from them. She couldn't hear what going on outside, nor could she see it.

She would have liked to have seen even a glimpse or two of the festival.

To make matters worse, it seemed her mind was conspiring to drive her insane. Earlier that day, before the away team left the Enterprise, Mayweather had been watching old Earth movies. Elvis Presley to be precise, and despite Hoshi's best efforts, one of the songs had lodged in her brain. It chose now to surface, and several times now, she caught herself humming along with it.

" You know I can be found... sitting home all alone... If you can't come around...at least please telephone...Don't be cruel to a heart that's true..."

The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them, and Hoshi smacked her forehead with her palm. Oh, why couldn't they come in contact with a more progressive race of people? Then she'd be free to be out there with her friends instead stuck here reliving Travis' Elvis marathon.

"Baby, if I made you mad .... for something I might have said," she added.


The Festival reminded Trip of Mardi Gras. The Dyloreans--dressed in brightly colors masks and wore lots of beads and headdresses--paraded through the streets dancing and chanting along to the music that seemed to come from all around them. Some of them tossed beads made from shells and pottery. One such necklace fell at Trip's feet and he quickly retrieved it. He was showing it to the others when two women in color costumes came rushing up to him and pulled him off into the parading throng.


"Usted sabe que puedo ser encontrado... sentándose a casa todo solamente... Si usted no puede venir alrededor... satisfaga por lo menos el teléfono. No sea cruel a un corazón que sea verdad."

Hoshi stopped singing when a guard came into the holding chamber pushing a cart in front of him. She'd been singing in Spanish, after having translating the song into first Japanese and then a few other languages. Hoshi was fluent in thirty-eight languages and had been picking up more since coming to work on the Enterprise.

The guard looked at her as if he were trying to make sense of her. He lifted the cover off the cart to reveal a small feast of local foods. By this time, Hoshi was starving. She took a huge whiff of the food, then smiled as the heavelyn scents reached her nostrils.

Thanking the man in Dylorean, she picked up something similar to a fork and dug into the food.


Malcolm grabbed Trips arm and hauled him off the ground. "Somehow I don't think you were supposed to kiss the woman back, Commander."

Trip scowled, rising to his feet after having been pummeled into the ground by some of the revelers. Their captain was trying to make the Dyloreans understand that no harm was meant. So far, he and the universal translator were having minimal luck.

Archer looked frustrated; the Dyloreans... pissed.


"Baby, wenn ich Sie wütend bildete.. für etwas konnte ich gesagt haben... Bitte lassen Sie uns die Vergangenheit vergessen,... die Zukunft schaut voran hell...Seien Sie nicht zu einem Herzen grausam, das zutreffend ist. Ich wünsche nicht keine andere Liebe,

Baby ist es Sie gerecht, die ich an denke."

Hoshi stopped. There was no way she was translating the rest of this song into German. Or Klingon, for that matter.

She flopped down on one of benches along the wall, not for the first time noticing how much it looked like a prison cell rather than a diplomatic waiting room. "The warden threw a party in the county jail..." the thought prompted and Hoshi groaned. She wished the guys would hurry up already.

As if on cue, the doors opened and the rest of the away team entered surrounded by more guards. They were all speaking at once, and it didn't take Hoshi long to decipher that something memorable had happened.

"What's going on?" She asked Malcolm as the captain continued to bicker with one of the guards.

"We're going home, I think," was his response.

"What happened?"

Malcolm pointed to Trip. "Ask him. They crowned him king of the Twin Suns."

But Trip was still scowling, so Hoshi walked over to the captain instead. She listened, and then prompted him with a hew phrases, but it was enough to figure out what had happened. She looked back at Trip and rolled her eyes.

"So, Hoshi," the captain began as the guards left and they were being returned to their ship. "I hope you weren't too bored without us."

"Oh, no, sir," Hoshi said with a small smile. "I managed to keep myself out of trouble."