Lieutenant JG Yogan Yalu — Diverse, conflicting clarity

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jkpbem

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Apr 25, 2021, 3:40:57 AM4/25/21
to USS Resolution – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG

Zhian’tara XII

(( OOC:  This is the twelfth–and final–sim in the arc.  Once again, I just want to say a huge thank you to Elliot (Adea), Marie (Sirin), Matt (MacKenzie), and Mikey (Etan) for being such wonderful writers and collaborators (not the Bajoran kind).  Each of you brought the characters to life in such wonderful ways I would never have imagined.  It was truly a pleasure to tell this story with you.  And now, with this resolution, let’s go back home to the other one! ))

(( Passenger compartment, USS Yalu – Thursday ))

Safely tucked inside the modular cabin aboard the Danube-class runabout, Yogan lay on the bed, his bare feet hanging off the end.  The once-in-a-lifetime zhian’tara was over, and he and his crewmates were en route back to Deep Space 224.  They’d been underway for a few hours, but it became clear to everyone almost immediately after departure that Yogan was distracted and not in a mood for conversation.  Eventually, Commander MacKenzie volunteered to take the helm for a while so he could be alone with his thoughts.

The ritual had lived up to its reputation:  moving, powerful, transformative.  After six years of being Joined, Yogan thought he knew everything there was to know about the seven hosts who came before him.  He was wrong.  Zhian’tara had shown him that heretofore, his understanding of them barely scratched the surface of who they actually were.

The wisdom that each of them imparted had been diverse, even conflicting, but it gave so much depth and context to their personalities.  Yogan found that sifting through all the memories and emotions was significantly easier now; he could almost immediately identify who was who inside his head, and he had far less trouble understanding why a particular memory chose that moment to surface to the top of his thoughts.  Zhian’tara had given him clarity, and the timing of that clarity couldn’t have been better.

Yogan interlaced his fingers behind his head and thought about last night.  After being released from the Institute compound, he joined his father and brother for dinner and met Pavlo, his father’s new partner, for the first time.  The evening was full of laughter and fond remembrances, with Pavlo immediately feeling like part of the family.  It ended with Yogan making tentative plans to come back for a longer visit once he’d accumulated some more leave, and with every intention of keeping his promise this time.

Later, after checking in with Meidra, Iljor, Genkos, and Addison–it no longer felt strange to think of all of them on a first-name basis, at least off-duty–Yogan was preparing to get in bed when an urgent call came from his sister.  He remembered the sound of her voice, tight and pressing as she spoke:  How quickly can you get here?


(( Flashback – Verso family home, Grodor Regional Municipality, Trill — Wednesday night ))

Kejana had thrown open the front door before Yogan even turned up the path from the main road.  He moved as quickly as his body would allow, and had lost his balance on the uneven ground a couple of times as he approached the house, a lone point of light in the oil-black night.

Her late-night call came just as Yogan was turning in for the night, his bags packed for the return trip to Deep Space 224 the following morning.  Given the late hour, arranging transport to such a rural locale had been a challenge, but nothing would have stopped Yogan from getting home.  He broke into a run for the last few meters, craning his neck to see inside the windows as soon as he was close enough.  Finally coming to a breathless stop, Yogan greeted Kejana with a silent nod, as he gulped lungful after lungful of air, not wanting to waste a single moment.

Yalu:  Thank you for calling me.

K. Verso:  Wouldn’t have wanted you to miss this.  Come on in.

Yogan entered the house sweaty and breathing heavily, but none of that mattered.  His long legs closed the distance to the dining table in what felt like two paces, and he sat down across from his mother, who cradled a mug of tea between her small, frail hands.  She smiled slightly, as if the movement required more energy than she could summon.

H. Jurea:  Hello, Yogan.  It is so good to see you.

Yogan struggled to blink back tears, his already pounding heart going into overtime from the emotion he was feeling.

Yalu:  It’s good to see you too, Mother.

Kejana entered and draped a thick grey blanket over her mother’s shoulders, then whispered to Yogan.

K. Verso:  I’ll give you two some time alone.

Yogan nodded his thanks, then looked back at his mother, attempting to etch her features and her charming expression permanently into his memory.

H. Jurea:  I am sorry about the other day.  I… wasn’t myself.

Yalu:  Mother, you have nothing to apologize for.

With one hand, the woman reached out to the center of the table, wiggling her fingers slightly.  Yogan took her hand, cold to the touch, and squeezed it gently.

H. Jurea:  Kejana told me you completed your zhian’tara.  How was it, Son?

Yogan struggled to find the right words, not because the question was difficult to answer, but because there were so many other things he wanted to say.  His voice cracked as he spoke, and swallowed against the lump in his throat.

Yalu:  It was amazing.  ::beat::  Mother, I want to tell you something.  I am so sorry I haven’t been here.  I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.

Haned set her mug of tea on the table and held Yogan’s hand in both of hers.  She looked him in the eye, and unlike last time, her gaze was fixed and lucid.

H. Jurea:  Let’s not talk about that.  We don’t know how much time we have.  ::beat, smiling:: In fact, come over here.

Yogan looked at his mother curiously, and she repeated herself more forcefully.

H. Jurea:  Come on.  Come over and sit here next to me.

Yogan brought his chair over to the opposite side of the table and sat next to his mother, dropping his broad shoulders so she could wrap one arm around him.  He held her free hand again and they sat together, mother cradling her adult child, without saying a word.  Finally, Haned broke the silence.

H. Jurea:  I love you, Yogan.  Remember that for me.

(( End flashback ))


Rather than try to push the memory away, Yogan let it wash over him.  Alone in the small runabout cabin, the thirty-six-year-old eighth host of the Yalu symbiont cried.  The release of emotion after a week of heartwarming and heart-rending conversations felt years overdue.  Zhian’tara, the Trill rite of closure, had been more than he’d ever expected, and as the runabout whose name he coincidentally shared warped through space, back toward Deep Space 224 and the return to normal life awaiting him there, he vowed to remember every moment of this experience.  After all, what is a person but a sum of their memories?


[ End of story arc for Yalu ]


Lieutenant JG Yogan Yalu
Helm Officer
USS Resolution NCC-78145

Justin
D238804DS0

As you liberate yourself in metaphor, think of others, those who have lost the right to speak.
— Mahmoud Darwish


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