T’Leya reached over to adjust the task lamp, shining the warm light into her lap and the garment taking shape upon it. Black stitching on black linen was difficult to see in the mood lighting of the little seating area, even with T’Leya’s Vulcan physiology. The head of the lamp moved easily, aided by the lamp being fixed to the ‘table’, a shelf attached to the wall between comfortable chairs that were attached to the floor. The seating area was a small gap between the edge of a corridor and the edge of the saucer, too small to be of much other use but just large enough for two sets of a couch facing two chairs. It was quiet and ignored, for the most part but afforded a nice view of the stars outside. T’Leya looked back from the astra to her work and continued her line of neat hand-stitches.

Walking down the corridor, Gus found the area mentioned by other crew members. He’d heard and dismissed several derogatory comments about people who used the area. “May I join you? Gus offered. He was holding an exquisitely crafted high-carbon steel sword in a simple steel sheath and a small bag. ”Gus Viat, Recon team.

T’Leya paid the sword no mind in the immediate. She raised her hand to him in the Vulcan salute.

“Gus Viat. Your service honors us. I am T’Leya. Please, sit.” She peered at the sword and the work Gus was doing with interest. “It appears this small lounge has become a refuge for artisans,” she observed. 

Offering a slight nod of respect as he returned the salute, Gus replied. “As does yours.” Taking a seat opposite T’Leya, he added,  “I was less than impressed with the replicated patterns so far in the system. So I forged a new blade in the Rihannsu traditional style.” Laying down the scabbard across his lap, Gus took out a finely made cord and started wrapping the sheath from the hilt. 

“Observing her work, Gus suggested, ”Perhaps a simple temporary dye would help differentiate between the thread and cloth.”

“A valid proposal,” T’Leya observed. “I will admit I am not predisposed to high-tech solutions. Where I am from we do not have unlimited access to technology and my default way of thinking is to do without. However I do not believe it is necessary. With the increased light provided by this lamp and Vulcan eyesight being what it is I can now easily differentiate the colour variance between cloth and thread. Furthermore, my goal is to finish the garment in as manual a fashion as possible, otherwise I would use a sewing machine and pre-dyed fabrics and be complete much faster. However speed is not my goal.”

“Our goal in this matter aligns. There is also more than the frugality to consider. Skills that remain unused remain dull.” Gus offered. “Not to mention the self-reliance, and I will admit to a certain artistic appreciation in completing such creations.”

“Exactly,” T’Leya agreed, laying her sewing down on her lap to focus on her new acquaintance. “The recipients of my garments these days are often of species who do not suppress emotions and the personal touch adds value to the gift for them. Being self-reliant is important to me to mitigate fears that I have and allow me to keep my own emotions fully-controlled. This stems from my being brought up on a farming colony away from the core planets of the Federation.” She took a quick sip from a glass of water on the table next to her that was nestled amongst the fabric and threads. “Please forgive my candor,” she continued, “I have surmised that given our similarities of heritage you will understand. On Coltar four we do not conduct ourselves with the privacy of society on Vulcan. We speak plainly and truthfully.”

Gus nodded in appreciation. “An interesting wrinkle in the fabric of society?” He added with a pun. “I grew up near the Forge. Growing up was…frugal. In a way, having less taught me more. What is the human saying, Soft times create soft people?”

“I am not familiar with that idiom, but the logic holds,” T’Leya commented. “I am curious. Is the sword associated with the implied hardness of your childhood?”

Gus actually chuckled. “No.” He said plainly. “The sword is designed for functionality. However, the function can create a pleasing aesthetic. The blade is a historical Rihannsu pattern with a few personal embellishments—simple but effective high carbon steel with a tempered hardened edge. The hilt and handle are made from a diburnium alloy. The handle I wrapped in Hycan cactus needle, filling the needle holes with a black polymer.” “What is the garment you are creating?” Gus asked. 

T’Leya’s assumption from Gus’ hair colour that he was not one hundred percent Vulcan was confirmed by the chuckle. However the mention of Rihannsu had T’Leya even more curious as to his heritage. Still, she continued the flow of the conversation with no outward appearance of surprise.

“It is a blouse. Traditional wear on Coltar four, a practical and light material that covers and protects the skin from ultraviolet with long sleeves and yet is lightweight and breathable enough for the wearer to remain comfortable while working. In style, it might be similar to a shirt of eighteenth-century Earth, or perhaps a traditional German dirndl blouse. Lavender caught sight of one I was finishing and commented on her liking for it. Apparently, it would look, I quote, ‘damn good under a corset,’ and so I obtained her measurements surreptitiously and am constructing her one, adjusted to her personality, of course. Black on black, a lower neckline and fitted around the ribs so as not to cause discomfort under a corset.

“It appears functional along with a pleasing artistic flair,” Gus replied after looking over what he could see from his couch. “I find it interesting to learn the variance your planet adapted to. I…chafed under Vulcan society—an outcast from within. Though I have counseled enough humans, and my wife is Trill, that their assessment is likely correct. Even as a full-blooded Vulcan I would agree the garment is lovely” He added with a hint of a smile and nod.

“I hope Lavender agrees,” T’Leya replied, even more confused now than ever about her conversation partner. “I have found the society on Vulcan itself to be something I am unaccustomed to. Coltar four is more practical. We maintain good relationships with all species and are inclusive and cordial because we rely on one-another. Emotional species can be illogical, but pointing that out to them serves to negate the validity of their outlook and rarely goes down well. As an example, I have always been curious. Acquiring knowledge through questions is only logical and yet it is not always polite. As such it is probably appropriate I acquire your permission to ask about your heritage before proceeding as we have only just become acquainted.”

Gus replied. “T’Leya, I do not mind. Its history and database are searchable. I never understood the level of reluctance to share. On your other point, I’ve found ignoring emotion to be similar to ignoring the wind. I would rather learn to sail through the currents. But in my Kohlinar training, it felt…windless.” Gus noticed her eyes dart very subtly. Most will ask the next obvious question. It’s a genetic disorder, and the cure caused the color variations. Perhaps also a catalyst for my non-conformal behavior. Having acted as a counsellor for many of my fellow combatants only reinforced and honed those skills.”

T’Leya nodded as Gus explained, glad that she had not needed to compose the wording of the question which might have been awkward. 

“Curious. Not something I have come across before, but then the genetic pool on Coltar four is limited so that is not surprising. What planet if any do you call home?”

“The twins, Samuel and Tziara, are on Trill utilizing the dwelling while Cia and I are on active duty. Trill has been the residence, but I am not tied to a location. Someplace warmer than most starships.” Gus replied. T’Leya nodded once again.

“The twins by themselves, so they are grown up?”

“They will turn thirty four this year. Self-reliant long ago. What about yourself?” Gus asked her.

“I do not have any children, nor have I been bonded,” T’Leya explained. “I have not met someone with whom I wish to be bonded. I am free of the societal expectation and manoeuvring of the home world in that regard. I have focussed on my work. It is rewarding, but a lonely existence,” she admitted. “Especially when one moves to a new ship.”

Switching into counselor mode without realizing it, Gus asked, “Lonely or alone? The distinction is key in this instance. ”Consider me extended family. We all need support.” 

“Lonely,” T’Leya replied, her dispassion at odds with the subject matter. “This level of solitude is not my preference. Therefore, your offer is appreciated. How do you find being away from your family?”

“The distance is always there, yet she who is my wife is always with me, as are my children.” Gus offered, pointing to his head. “Therapeutic methods exist in mind melds at what I call near surface. However, requirements exist to safeguard both individuals. ” He left the question open-ended on purpose.

“A therapeutic mind-meld. I am curious is the action of sharing consciousness in itself the treatment for loneliness or is there a particular methodology applied by the mind meld to achieve that result?” T’Leya’s gaze was pinned on Gus in a way that some might find unnerving. She was however simply giving him her full attention. 

“That would depend on the reason for the therapy. Combat-related therapy is at a different level. Loneliness isn’t a deep meld unless there are mitigating factors. It was something my wife Cia and I discovered isn’t always done as a family entity. Exploring the guided sessions led to some internal strife, it made us closer as a unit.” Gus offered.

“I see,” T’Leya said softly. “And what made you choose to create a Rihannsu blade?” The change of conversational direction would leave a cheetah dazed. One eyebrow rose at the topic change, but he continued, “Because the Rihannan never stopped using blades. Earth has a few functional blades. The Japanese katana, English bastard, and Afghan kukri swords are all highly functional in their respective styles. The Rihannsu style is similar to the bastard sword.”  Getting up, Gus wrapped a cloth around the hilt to provide a grip and held the blade out T’Leya to inspect or handle. She did so, carefully. T’Leya didn’t know much about swords, but looked it over anyway. It was expertly crafted, from what she could tell. She passed it back, just as carefully.

“Do you find that there is any use for a blade in modern times of hand Phasers and Disruptors? Or is this purely an aesthetic object?” She asked. Gus thought about the last mission. 

“The Jem’Hadar like close combat.” Pausing for a moment, he thought of Micah and added. “Bad breath range, as an old comrade would say. I would not want to be without one. Energy weapons tend to set off internal sensors. Blades can be convenient in the field or on away missions. I am rarely without one.” T’Leya nodded slowly, looking thoughtful.

“Surprising. I would have thought regulations too rigid to allow such a weapon on missions. Is there or are there certain disciplines you follow that the dictate the mode of wielding it?” Gus moved with the topic flow. “Blade design often dictates form. That will make it apparent whether the blade is sweeping, stabbing, or chopping. Many do two things adequately. None do it all.”

“I see,” T’Leya commented. “I am ignorant of such things. What forms do this blade suit?” 

Gus replied, “The Rihannsu art of Llaekh-ae’rl,” the universal translator caught as laughing murder. Then added, “The analogy would be dancing anger, perhaps. Hand-to-hand combat teaches the transfer of energy; this is similar, but the sword becomes an extension of your arm.” He felt a friendly attraction; there was no doubt. Their upbringings had enough like events to forge the mentality needed to cope in a certain way that gelled. T’Leya blinked impassively, taking in this new information.

“One supposes the weapon itself would need inherent balance to make a suitable extension?” She queried, seeming interested.

Gus held out the sword for her to sample “It’s balanced enough that it wedged itself inside a simulated holodeck EPS conduit a half a meter deep when thrown as a spear. You will find it a bit longer than it should be for you. Balance isn’t an issue.” Not quite as an afterthought, he added, “it would far easier to show you.”

“I am indeed interested, Gus Viat. That would require relocation to a more suitable venue, would it not?” T’Leya asked, surveying the space around them for a moment. Gus nodded and replied, “In that we are in total agreement.” Then added, “shall we reconvene in ten minutes? That will give me time to program a weapon your size and finish the wrap on my own sword.”

Not supposing she would be hands on with a weapon at the inception of this plan T’Lea’s inherent curiosity piqued.

“Very well,” she said, spiking her needle in to a cushion and gathering her sewing project. “Name the location.”

“Deck 15. Training holodeck for Recon and Security teams.” Gus offered.

“I shall see you there.”