Lieutenant Yogan Yalu — Imprisoned on a 23rd century Klingon Ship
jkpbem
(( Command Deck, IKS qorDu ))
R’Mira: So, fleeters. How do we create a tachyon whatever?
Yogan allowed his shoulders to come forward just a bit, making his posture slightly less extreme. A slight grin appeared on his face. That could have gone one of two ways; he was pleased and a bit proud of himself that the gamble paid off.
Yalu: You’ll need to reconfigure your main navigational deflector to emit the pulse. I can help, but I’ll need to know which controls to work.
LehleQ: You think that you can beam aboard the qorDu and steal her secrets. No, you will not gain access to our systems. You will tell R’Mira what she needs to know and she will do the necessary work.
Sherlock: :: looking LehleQ in the eyes :: You need to let him work with her. You can keep me at your side and if he tries anything, you can kill me...Ok?
In the middle of mopping a bit of sweat from his forehead, Yogan’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise. In a way, he was touched by Aine’s show of gallantry. If they survived this ordeal and returned to normal space, he’d show his gratitude by inviting her out for a cheeseburger or something.
R’Mira: response
Yogan sidled up next to the console he was directed toward, and started working quickly. R’Mira seemed to pick up on what he was doing and assisted, simplifying the process.
Yalu: ::to R’Mira:: You’re not like these other warriors. You’re pretty sharp.
R’Mira: response
Yalu: Not at all. Just saying that where I come from, the Klingon Empire I know, you’d probably be the captain of this ship.
R’Mira: response
She might have been a 23rd century Klingon, but R’Mira proved to be as capable and as intuitive as any ops or comms officer Yogan could hope to work with. It was almost supernatural the way they worked together, the synergism of their combined efforts greatly speeding up the work. As they tapped panels and turned switches, Sherlock was doing her best diversion tactics, keeping the captain occupied.
LehleQ: Tell me, I have never seen a vessel of your type before- and I had fought in battle with many of ships. You come from our future, no?
Sherlock: Well, sorta. We're from your future. You're from our past. It's not the future to me. :: raising her palms up :: Does...that make sense?
LehleQ: response
The main deflector of the IKS qorDu thrummed to life, and from what Yogan could tell, all of the indicators on the panel in front of him indicated that they succeeded.
Yalu: ::to R’Mira:: We did it. ::to Sherlock:: Lieutenant, we’re emitting the pulse at the same frequency as Resolution.
Sherlock: :: to LehleQ :: See, no funny business.
Yogan didn’t even have time to congratulate R’Mira on a job well done, as a litany of alarms clattered and klaxoned. Something had gone wrong. Yogan didn’t read Klingon script, but the diversity of flashing symbols in varying colors couldn’t possibly indicate all was well.
R'Mira: response
Yalu: The pulse is weakening. But that doesn’t make any sense, it shouldn’t have any negative effects on your other ships’ systems.
LehleQ: response
Sherlock: No! He's trying to help! I swear! There must be something wrong!
Yogan turned back to the console he had been working at, but quickly felt a disruptor pointed against the small of his back. He slowly stood back up to his full height and put his hands up, palms forward, and slowly turned around. Facing the rest of the command deck, he saw another Klingon soldier holding a weapon point blank at Aine.
Yalu: ::to LehleQ:: You’re making a mistake. We came here to help you.
LehleQ: response
Yogan looked at R’Mira and the rest of the Klingons in turn, hoping that someone, anyone, would speak out on their behalf.
Sherlock: response
LehleQ: response
Yalu: We’re running out of time. Throwing us in your brig won’t accomplish anything.
The disruptor at Yogan’s back thrust forward, and he winced in pain as its business end pressed against his spine. If it discharged at this distance, he'd be vaporized.
LehleQ / R’Mira / Sherlock: response
Tag / TBC
Lieutenant 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