Walking into his quarters after the last of several encrypted meetings, Gus stretched and heard several joints pop in protest after remaining seated for so long.

Most thought gathering a group of Vulcan Captains to agree on anyone strategy would be a feat of small miracles. However, he had what humans would call leverage. In the recent joint missions with the Romulan Navy, the Denver’s crew had already worked closely and successfully before, doing so again made sense.

With Commander Tomarah’s prestige, she was able to convince the Senate to send a small contingency in support of their Vulcan cousins. While she could not offer a concrete number, her honor demanded that at the very least, her own ship, the T’liss would be there with two others already committed from Regal Houses.

It had been enough to sway support for the upcoming mission. Secretly he hoped it would be crushing defeat for the Dominion but those wins had been far and few between so far for the Federation. Now it was back against the wall time.

Knowing he’d done all he could for the moment, Gus a sonic shower, followed by a hearty meal. Pouring himself a medium glass of Vulcan brandy, he settled on the overstuffed couch with a bar of dark chocolate, and his non-replicated Fender Telecaster. An acoustic that could double as an electric when plugged into an amp, it was a near constant meditation companion since it didn’t need an amp so play.

His wife and family were as safe as they could be. The twins on transports bound for Earth. His wife, Cia, made it to Mars long ago.

The mood remained somber and dark in his head. Chords just coming to his fingers, he realized he was playing an old Earth tune, l from an old comrade. Gus let the guitar cry and sing for him man and machine blending into one. Launching into the second verse, he sang,

Through these fields of destruction. Baptisms of fire
I’ve witnessed your suffering
As the battle raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms

The song replayed in his head the guitar becoming and extension of himself as he semi-consciously played. Growing up, he was counseling against non-standard mediation techniques. As so many other things in his life, Gus forged his own path.

Two hours later, rested in mind, he gathered his medical credentials and applied for a position as a supplemental counselor, specifically for PTSD and combat sufferers—something he had already done semi-professionally for years.