T’Vara arrived on the bridge early that afternoon while Zedd was reviewing some information on the console. At the point she walked in, he immediately put down whatever he was doing on the console. It was a nice touch, and she could tell by that alone how Zedd managed things.

“I wanted to speak to you about the suit,” she said.

Zedd turned around to face her. “You’re changing your mind.”

“Not entirely,” she replied. When T’Vara spoke like this – her arms were hanging loosely by her side and she took care in her words so as to keep from diminishing their weight — she had given considerable thought to what she wanted to convey. “I’ll accept the suit. Both the armor and EVA configurations. I’ve been giving some thought to my statement made after our last meeting and though it was an honest assessment; it was incomplete.”

“Incomplete how?” Zedd asked.

“When I said I wasn’t prepared to cross a boundary that I hadn’t defined yet…that’s still true. However, I have been considering where I drew the line and I believe I misdrawn it.” There was a pause. “The suit isn’t crossing the line. Using equipment necessary to enter into hostile environments isn’t crossing the line. My colony never had institutional protections nor assistance, and from an early age I realized that being present and able in potentially deadly situations does not mean you are violent. The suit enhances my capabilities. I’m fine with that.”

Zedd didn’t respond for a moment. “And the guns.”

“No,” T’Vara stated simply. There wasn’t much passion in her voice. “Guns are the line. And I won’t carry them. Not out of naivety regarding what this ship does and where we travel…but because I know who I am and what I am capable of being. If I ever carry a gun, I become something different, and I don’t want to be anything different than a medic. I’d like to be part of those boarding teams. I'd like to be available in the field when crew members need medical support and not stuck on the ship waiting for everyone to come back sufficiently intact for repair. Those are areas where I'm valuable and those are areas where I would like to be.”

Zedd looked at her for a brief moment with the look he gave when he was processing something properly rather than merely listening to it. “You're wanting to go into combat situations unarmed.”

“I want to go into combat situations as a medic,” she clarified. “There's a distinction. I'm not asking you to deny the dangers that exist. I know they exist. I'm asking you to give me control over what decisions I'll make and what decisions I'll avoid making.”

“And if someone comes right at you...then what?” he asked.

“The Tal-Ren forms aren't decorations,” she said. “I can deflect and neutralize attacks using physical means instead of firearms well enough to provide time and space. I’m not asking anyone to protect me specifically…I'm asking to be there and perform the job that I’m actually trained and competent at performing in those locations where it matters most.”

She paused.

“If that’s not something you can agree to, I understand. But I wanted to make my position clear rather than simply state ‘no’ at the meeting and walk away.”

Zedd remained silent for a long time; she allowed him the silence and didn’t fill it.

“You've got the suit with full armor configuration,” he said eventually. “And I want you within reach of whoever is running the medical support line during any boarding. Don’t go into unsecured spaces and don’t get separated from another crew member further than visual range.”

“Agreed,” she said.

“And T’Vara,” he looked at her straightly. “The fact that you came to me with this as opposed to just showing up in armor and no firearm shows something. Thank you.”

She nodded once. “It seemed worthwhile having the discussion properly.”

“It was,” he said and returned to his console while T’Vara headed for the door and that was that.