I remember the time

Of the collier and the candle

Of a long, bitter fight that darkened the land –

The numbers didn’t add up, and this stopped his humming. With a glare at his screen, Petrias Graelin snapped back to cold reality. Then he ran the numbers again.

And I asked you the question but you wouldn’t answer…

Even without the humming, the tune wouldn’t stop. He snapped his screen shut on his desk, and shot to his feet as he smacked his combadge. ‘Graelin to Rourke. I need to see you.’

The captain replied with his usual dose of caution, his usual dose of dour judgement that he thought made him better than everyone else – better than him. ‘Is it urgent?’

Graelin bit back a sarcastic comment. That would waste time. ‘Exceedingly.’

When I asked you the question, did you understand?

Four minutes later he was in the captain’s ready room, stood tall before the cold disinterest of Rourke’s eyes. ‘We cannot evacuate all of the mining facilities on the outer rim.’

That got Rourke’s attention, his jaw setting. ‘Is this about leaving the facilities to run unattended, or numbers?’

‘Both. The majority of facilities can be shut down with our aid, or shifted to automated processes. My teams will have to work day and night.’ There was no brag here or self-pity, but a simple statement of fact. ‘Some will require at least a skeleton crew. But the zenite mine is a problem.’ Without asking he reached across Rourke’s desk, ignoring the captain’s indignant expression as he brought the screen to life to show his calculations.

Rourke stopped to read. ‘There are too many people to relocate to anywhere inside the belt.’

‘I thought about putting them on Endeavour,’ Graelin elaborated, ‘but that hardly moves them out of danger.’

‘And if we have to protect the facility, that forces our ships away from our weapon platforms and other defences.’

‘I have no doubt the Star Navy will threaten one of Agarath’s key mining facilities, both to endanger the lives of those aboard and its economic future. It would hardly be out of character for them to slaughter miners.’

Rourke sighed. ‘Then we have to put them on Endeavour –’

‘No.’

I saw drills and machines,

All churning there, burning,

Millions in bondage to work in the land…

The tune wouldn’t stop. Graelin drew a deep breath. ‘I can adjust the radiation shielding in the facility to mask life-signs and power levels. To the outside, the place will be abandoned. This will require me to be in the facility to regulate the process, and ensure the shielding is manipulated for as short a period as possible to reduce exposure.’

Rourke frowned. ‘Is that safe?’

‘Nothing about that facility is safe. But until or unless we are to completely overhaul Agarath’s process of zenite mining, this is the reality. No option is without risk, Captain.’ He gave a curt shrug. ‘This will please First Secretary Hale. The more Agarath needs the Federation for its well-being, the more likely it is to lobby Velorum for the sector to become a protectorate.’

The frown deepened. ‘That’s not her agenda.’

‘Of course it is,’ Graelin said simply. ‘But you don’t want to look at the political reality.’

Rourke sank back, gaze frustrated. ‘Don’t give me this, Petey. Don’t give me this “I see things clearly because I’m more cynical, and you’re blinded by your childish idealism.”’

‘I don’t think you’re blinded by idealism.’ Graelin shrugged again. ‘I think you’re blinded by ignorance.’

And I asked them the question but they wouldn’t answer…

The captain’s jaw remained tight. ‘We are here to help the Romulan – and Reman – people in a way that Starfleet failed before -’

‘You weren’t even here.’ The tempo of the song had been hammering away within him, its beat thudding in-time with his heart but speeding him, and now it surged up with a wave of adrenaline. Still he did not raise his voice, eyes locked on Rourke. ‘You were on the Klingon border when Starfleet aborted the Romulan evacuation. And still you’re acting like you, personally, failed these people and have to shoulder this.’

Rourke scowled. ‘Just because I didn’t see it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care -’

‘But you act like you understand. You always have, ever since we met on the Achilles when we regulated the collapsing border to the Neutral Zone and you positioned yourself as this champion of the downtrodden who empathised with their plight in a way nobody else could.’ Graelin found his lip curling. ‘We both know that’s bullshit.’

When I asked them the question, did they understand?

The captain’s chin tilted up. ‘Remember yourself, Commander.’

‘You started this accusation calling me Petey,’ Graelin sneered. ‘You’ve always looked down on me, but the simple truth is that I understand these people better than you do, and always have. Where do you think I grew up on Ardana, Rourke? Because it wasn’t Stratos.’ He watched Rourke’s eyes widen, and couldn’t smother the small flash of satisfaction that the self-professed master of reading people had been fooled by his code-switching for over a decade. ‘Where did you grow up, Rourke? Ah yes. Earth.’

Rourke drew a slow breath, visibly scrabbling for steady ground. ‘I’m not ignorant of my privilege -’

‘You’re a damned poser,’ Graelin snapped at last. ‘You grew up with everything and even when you took a walk on the dark side of the galaxy you were the man with the uniform and the phaser and the shield of Starfleet. Don’t you dare act like you understand the people of Agarath better than me. Act like you shoulder the burdens of these people more than me. You swan around, self-flagellating for all Starfleet did and didn’t do in the Romulan supernova fifteen years ago, which had nothing to do with you, as an exercise in – in vanity.’ Rourke’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and Graelin did not waver. ‘I’m not here so you can allay your guilt about being luckier than them by showing off how much you care.’

Silence rang out, and Rourke did not drop his gaze. At length, he spoke again. ‘I imagine it’s difficult for you, Commander, being confronted with the impacts of zenite mining on these -’

It took all of Graelin’s self-control to not tell Rourke to go do something biologically improbable. ‘You have never given a damn about my well-being before, Rourke. Don’t start now.’

Rourke’s jaw clenched. ‘Alright. Begin your work to shield the mine and the miners. Take who you need from your department. Your duty station will be there when the Star Navy arrives.’

‘I -’

‘Dismissed.’

Then I saw the ones sit

In the seats of decision

They sat and they judged the miners’ demand…

He must have been more tense than he knew, because the moment he was back on the bridge and heading for the turbolift, Lindgren fell into step beside him with a worried look. ‘Petrias.’

He tried ignoring her, but she followed him onto the turbolift, and he rolled his eyes as he turned back to the door. ‘Deck Seven. You’re on duty, Lieutenant.’

But she stood her ground as the doors slid shut behind her, chin tilting up so she could look him in the eye. ‘Don’t give me that. What happened in there?’

‘I briefed the captain on -’

‘You fought.’

Graelin scoffed. ‘Rourke and I always fight.’

‘But you’ve not been okay for days now, Petrias.’ She reached for his hand. ‘Talk to me.’

He jerked his hand back, eyes flashing. ‘Don’t presume you have a right to my thoughts.’

And though they decided, did they understand?

She pulled back as if struck. ‘Don’t I? We’re -’

‘Fucking,’ he finished, expression blank as he met her gaze. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Elsa. You have been a diversion and an entertainment, but I am hardly about to invest my thoughts and feelings into something like this.’

To her credit, she masked whatever she had to be feeling. That was one thing he’d always appreciated about her; she played the game well, saw the boundaries and the rules without testing them or asking. ‘I think that’s a convenient fiction so you don’t have to have to talk to me about what’s really going on,’ she said softly. ‘But you should have that conversation with someone. Counsellor Carraway -’

‘I misspoke,’ Graelin butted in. ‘I am hardly about to invest my thoughts and feelings into someone like you.’

Because the other thing he’d always appreciated about her was that, for all that she was good at the game, he was better. He could yank her chain when he wanted to, leave her swinging in the dark for as long as he wanted and snap his fingers and have her running back, and because she was so committed to the game, she never let on that she either knew or had a problem with him having all the power.

But he did. And they both knew it. And normally he used it merely to demonstrate or remind himself.

Sometimes, just sometimes, he used it because he needed to.

Then I saw an old miner

Whose body lies broken

Claimed by the dust, much finer than sand…

Elsa Lindgren looked up at the turbolift roof. ‘Computer, stop at the next deck,’ she said, and he could hear the faintest waver in her voice. But her eyes were clear when they met his. ‘You might be driving me away. Don’t think that this is over.’

The turbolift slowed, and Graelin rolled his eyes. ‘It most certainly is over. This was a diversion. That’s all.’ The doors slid open, and she took half a step back.

But the humming in his veins hadn’t stopped, was starting to burn now, and it was to smother that flame that he grasped her arm, met her gaze, and leaned in a couple of inches. ‘You were very good,’ he said, voice dripping with appreciative condescension. It did fade the humming to feel her tense under his touch, apprehension bubbling in her, the jerk of her chain making the flames flicker lower. ‘But run along, now.’

He let her go before she could pull free, did so with the faintest, ushering push, and Elsa Lindgren took an unsteady step back towards the door, the mask at last starting to crumble.

His was intact as he watched her go, intact as the doors slid shut, intact even when he was on his own in the turbolift as it surged back to life and carried him on his way.

And I’ll ask him the question, though now he can’t answer,

I’ll I ask him the question, he’ll understand.

(Lyrics liberally adapted from Max Boyce’s “Did You Understand,” (1974) a song about the working conditions of Welsh coal miners)