You beam aboard.
As your atoms re-assemble themselves, the curved walls around the transporter pads come into view. They're painted elaborately, in scripts of fifty writing systems and two hundred languages. Aren't there universal translators on this ship? Of course there are. The art - because that's what it is - is on the walls anyway. Welcome, they say. Na'shaya. 歡迎 . naDchu'lu'.
The transporter tech gives you a friendly nod, and says a greeting. It's proof the UT works - they're Gorn, and can't pronounce the language you just heard it in (Fed. Standard).
"I'm Sshasek, by the way. Transsporter chief. Welcome aboard. I'll find you a guide."
You wait, stepping off the transporter pad when they tell you to, but not leaving the room. Something tells you it might be a good idea to follow Sshasek's implicit order to not wander around unescorted.