measured_words | Twenty-Five Years 05

Thanks again to

earis for proofreading, and for being a compliant captive audience for my incesant babbling about Romulans whenever I'm actually home @_@

PG, no warnings this time. Series notes and other chapters here.

Twenty-Five Years: The Mines

Routine, Ayel hoped, even one enforced by outsiders, might be beneficial for the crew. On two hours sleep and still battered from his interrogation, however, it was difficult to cling to any kind of optimism. He touched the cold cavern wall, drawing on the strength and stability of Earth. Routine. This place was a mine and he was – had been in an increasingly distant life – a miner. Guards were yelling, waving old-fashioned disruptors in the faces of those slow to roll out of their bunks. Good morning. This was day one of their survivor’s penance.

He’d spoken briefly to Vanor after his general address the night before, wishing selfishly that Thrai was still with them. This would be a day for assessments, feeling out their situation further. They had already made some enemies the night before, among the prisoners T’Lalea’s gang had evicted to claim the Rihannsu living space. The guards, at least, hadn’t seemed to care.

After a perfunctory first meal of pasty grey gruel, the crew let themselves be herded towards some lifts. When Ayel heard a commotion ahead, he slipped forward through a parting throng of Rihannsu. T’Lalea fell in to step beside him.

“That’s absurd.” The voice belonged to Aifn, one of the handful of women on the ship, and of the even fewer who worked on the drill crews. She was flanked by two others – Paren and another woman from the crews, Rihain, tall and strongly built. “Do you mean to imply that we are too delicate for such work?”

“The warden says,” the Klingon adjusted his grip on his weapon, not quite threatening the women with it, “No females in the mines.”

“But why?” Aifn was part angry, part incredulous. Are all the guards here male? Ayel glanced over at T’Lalea. She was watching the confrontation with narrowed eyes, but nodded when she caught his look. Another guard continued to usher others into the lift. The first gave an arrogant sneer.

“You’ll have to stay and ask him.”

A sneer, or a leer? It was hard to tell with Klingons, but either way it was unpleasant.

Ayel clapped a hand on Aifn’s shoulder. “Later,” he told he quietly in Rihannsu, wondering if the Klingon translators could handle their language. We’ll have to find out. T’Lalea had already slipped off back through the crowd.

“Yes sir.” She kept her gaze locked with the guard, and Ayel nodded evenly at him.

“Carry on, then.”

The Klingon’s expression soured. “Don’t give orders to me, Romulan scum! Get on the lift.”

Ayel smiled down at guard, narrowing his eyes. The women laughed as he stepped past. He was sore and exhausted, but at least he still had some kind of control. Earth.

Down below, another guard met the small group coming off the lift with shouted orders. Antiquated hand lasers were shoved in their hands, and the ten of them were escorted deeper in to the mine. The caverns were riddled with dark black bands of gneiss, which, on planetoids exposed to the right conditions, contained pockets, sometimes sheets, of crystal dilithium. They pressed past another detail of prisoners, a random assortment of aliens who fell in to a guarded silence as the Rihannsu passed. The scaring patterns on the walls showed that they knew at least to follow the natural rock bands in their laser carving, but he didn’t have an opportunity for further observations before they were moved along.

Eventually they reached a dead end in the cave. Someone had worked here before, but Ayel couldn’t imagine they’d produced much – the banding looked too solid and regular to suggest any intrusive deposits. The group was ordered tersely to get to work, and the guard moved off a ways to keep his watch. Vanor shook his head.

“May as well give us pickaxes.” He continued in response to Ayel’s shrug. “Can you imagine if we’d ever found a rock like this? Strip it in six months, maybe eight. We’d have been richer than half the senate.”

“And we’d be just as dead.”

“Ie.” Vanor looked down at his laser. “So we would.”

The day passed quietly, the guard coming over only occasionally to growl aggressively and make token threats about working faster. They were brought another meal at some point during the day, but it was difficult the gauge the passage of time. It was more of the same grey paste – salty, gelatinous, and entirely unpleasant. This time there were some hard starchy discs, and water as well. They ate little. Ayel and Vanor took a little stroll around their section of the cave while their guard enjoyed his own meal. There wasn’t much to see, though they guessed that there were some rich dilithium deposits in pretty much every section save where they’d been put. The place didn’t need to be efficient, presumably, and probably didn’t care to.

One notable landmark stood out in their short walkabout: a mass of scorched and melted rock where some unfortunates had detonated some unstable dilithium with careless laser use. That must be why the guards keep so far back. That could be useful information, and he filed it away for future reference.

They were herded back up to the higher caverns at the end of the day. T’Lalea was waiting, and Ayel sent Vanor to check with some of the others and compare experiences and observations. He fell in to step with the security chief, who seemed better rested if no more relaxed. She led him through the compound on a tour that became more perfunctory when she realized he wasn’t in a frame of mind to capture the nuances.

“Later then,” she insisted, “You’ll need to know this.”

Nero will need to know this. He nodded – it amounted to the same. “Have you found anywhere good for private conversation?”

“Yes, as long as you can accept that half the prison will think we’re lovers.”

He shook his head. “Nothing new there.”

T’Lalea smirked, leading him back close to the guard barracks. They passed some other inmates, some of whom Ayel was beginning to recognize. No one stopped them as they slipped in to a side alcove, but they certainly took note. As soon as they were out of sight, Ayel sagged, running a hand up over his face and back across his skull to rub the back of his neck. Stubble was starting to grow back in through the fresh scars of his mourning tattoos – just one more mentally draining aggravation.

“Are you alright?”

“Are you?”

“I slept some today. And I didn’t spend ten hours on my feet, working like a slave.” T’Lalea crouched down against the far wall, and he settled down beside her. It did feel good to sit.

“It’s just work.”

“As far as I can find out, there are hundreds of reasons this place is called the alien’s graveyard, and half of them are related to the dangers of dilithium mining in these conditions. Even if nothing explodes on you, long-term exposure will cause radiation sickness.”

“I know.” He did – he didn’t want to talk about it right now. “I’m just tired. How was your day?”

She pursed her lips, furrowing her brow. “I’m not sure I can keep us all safe.”

“Explain.”

“Another time. It’s just what I’ve been thinking.”

“You don’t have to work alone. Take whoever you need. Security is essential, especially now.”

She gave him a sly look. “I thought you were too tired to worry about these things?”

“I don’t really have the luxury.”

“Let me worry about it. You don’t have to do this all alone either.”

“Don’t I? The crew needs one leader. One.”

“They want Nero. You can’t be him.”

He hadn’t been trying, not consciously, but was that what they saw? What did that say about his own authority? “Well.”

“Well indeed. So, let me play at being you for a moment now. Do you know why Nero listens to you?”

Ayel turned his head to look at her. He could think of several answers. I wonder what she’s fixed on?

She shook her head after a moment. “Never mind. Instead, tell me, have you let yourself think about how we came to be here? To really turn everything over in your head?”

Had he? It was never really out of mind. Vanor’s comment earlier had been like poking at an open wound. It haunted and festered: the loss of the hearthworlds, people, places, culture. It was too big to grasp, and so was their role, their thwarted mission of salvation. Had he really been so glib? ‘Risking everything on a remote chance we save the Empire?’ he’d told Nero at the time, ‘Of course I’m in.’ They were right, they couldn’t fail: but it had all been too much Air. But they had, and then came revenge – also thwarted. The thoughts leaked in, but he hadn’t explored them. Ayel shook his head.

“You should,” she continued. “Even just to hold his place here, you’re going to need that Fire. Otherwise, this place will freeze you cold.”