USS Gibraltar 2016 - Episode 1: The Beginning

The year: 2397

The place: Meraki Station

Starfleet Command could sometimes be a strange and puzzling organisation, Kieran Braveheart reflected. Take today, for instance. One moment he was sitting at his desk, doing research for Admiral Janeway – same thing he'd done for the last two years, since the USS Malta was destroyed and his resulting demotion to Commander – and the next moment, an uptight young Lieutenant handed a PADD with new orders from the Admiralty. New orders... for him? That just didn't seem right. For the last two years, Command had been pretending like he hadn't existed. They'd ignored his pleas for a chance to get out there again, and downright rejected a transfer request. Now that working on Admiral Janeway's team was unfulfilling, mind you, but... well, he used to be a starship captain. Riding a desk now seemed... wrong, somehow.

The orders themselves were strange too: report to Meraki station and wait for further orders. What kind of orders would those be? Why couldn't Starfleet Command be more clear in their orders?

Still, when you received orders, you followed them. So, now Braveheart found himself lightyears away from his desk, out in space again for the first time since his demotion, docking a shuttlecraft at the Meraki starbase that was located well inside Federation territory. The only question on his mind: why did Starfleet send him here?

That question was soon forgotten though – or at least changed a bit – when he entered the meeting area, and saw who else was there. Before him were 5 other people... and only one of those he didn't know. The unknown person was Dr. Brent Grady, but the four others... "Sophie, Duke, Renari, Deia, what the hell are you doing here?"

Sophie – not surprisingly the only person not sitting down – looked at him with a gaze that Braveheart remembered from his Malta days. "We could ask you the same thing."

"I received orders to come here," Braveheart replied.

"Same here," Duke shrugged. "You don't happen to know why they sent us here, do you?"

"Not a clue," Braveheart sighed, taking a seat himself. While he didn't like the mystery of it all, he did thoroughly enjoy seeing his old Bridge crew again.

Reunited... but why?

"Perhaps Starfleet wants us to go through the Malta destruction *again*," Renari said as she whipped her tail in frustration. "I swear, it's been two years, and still Starfleet can't let it rest!"

"You're preaching to the choir, Ren," Braveheart said as he pointed to his three rank pips. "You're no longer talking to Captain Braveheart..."

Any response the others made was drowned out by a strong wind suddenly blowing in the room, followed by a bright flash. Immediately the wind died down, and much to everyone's surprise, where the flash had been, now stood a man. A man in a strange looking uniform, wearing protective eye gear. A sturdy, well built man with a confident attitude. A man with a weapon in his hands.

Who's that man, appearing out of nowhere?

The man looked at everyone. He didn't seem at all surprised to see the six crewmembers sitting here. In fact, at the sight of everyone, he smirked. "Sorry about this," he stated, as he raised his weapon.

And then he fired.

But nothing happened. Or at least... there was a blue glow, but other than it being bright, Braveheart, nor the other crewmembers, were worse for wear. The strange man didn't seem to mind though, as he started running... just in time to dodge a phaserblast coming from where a moment ago there'd been nothing. The man aimed his weapon at a wall, fired it, and jumped through the portal he had just created. He was gone.

"Damnit, Seelowe!"

Everyone now turned to see where these words had come from. With a similar portal closing just behind him, former Gibraltar Captain RoBobby McMillan stood there, tugging his phaser back into his holster. Sure, he was wearing a different uniform than the last time anyone saw him, but it was definitely him.

"Captain?" Braveheart was the first to speak. "Captain McMillan? Is that really you?"

It was as if McMillan only now realised who his audience was. "Kieran! My god man, it's you! And Sophie! Duke! Ren! Deia!" His surprised smile told Braveheart that McMillan had no idea they'd be here. "What are you doing here?"

"We could ask you the same thing," Sophie Johnson muttered.

"First things first, is everyone alright?" That was Dr. Grady talking. He'd already whipped out his medical tricorder, and started scanning the room.

Braveheart ignored him. "Captain, you've been missing for two years! You and the Gibraltar were proclaimed missing in action, after you disappeared at the Jo'gon nebula!"

The missing captain returns...

McMillan frowned. "A lot has happened, and I'll tell you all about that later. Right now, I need your help. That man who escaped, Aimhigh Seelowe... he's a dangerous renegade, and I need to find him. With your help, and this starbase's sensors, we might be able to track him."

It seemed McMillan was adamant in his desire to find this Seelowe character. Moments later, the crew all entered the station's Operations facility, where they started several scans. Well, most of them, anyway: Renari and Duke were feeling... dizzy. Luckily Dr. Grady was here to help.

Dr. Grady checking in on Renari.

As the rest of them scanned away, McMillan explained what had happened in the last two years. The incident at the Jo'gon nebula was no accident: the Starfleet Temporal Department from the 29^th century had brought him and the Gibraltar to the future, making it look as if he'd disappeared into thin air. They did this because they had a mission for him: find and neutralise a traitor: Aimhigh Seelowe. Apparently, Seelowe had deserted, and was now working for an opposite faction. He needed to be stopped, or all of time could be seriously damaged. It wasn't after a few months, when McMillan realised he couldn't get back, that he accepted the assignment. He's been hunting Seelowe ever since.

The crew is scanning for temporal signatures.

Just as McMillan finished the story, Duke let out a grunt of pain. His headache was getting worse. Alarmed, McMillan asked what was going on... and then Braveheart told all about Seelowe firing his weapon, but not actually injuring anyone.

A shocked McMillan quickly pulled out his tricorder and scanned everyone in the room. "Damnit, I should have seen this coming," he muttered under his breath. It turned out that Seelowe had fired his temporal displacement device at everyone, causing the molecules in their bodies to initiate a temporal shift. It turned out to be a slow process, and one that might last a long time... but in the end, it would mean that the person shot by such a device, would find his or her atoms scattered through time...

Since there was no cure here, in the late 24^th century, McMillan decided he'd take his former crew to the future... the 29^th century had to have a cure for this. Quickly, the starship captain tapped his commbadge, causing the USS Gibraltar to appear outside. The Gibraltar had been refitted with a temporal device, making timetravel possible in order to aid McMillan with his hunt for Seelowe. Now, they'd use the ship to get back to the future, in order to save his crew.

After they beamed on board and set up a low level polaron field to minimise the effects of the molecular shift, they engaged the engines... and headed off, into the future.

Onwards, to the future!

To be continued...

Prologue - Gibraltar's lost logs

Captain RoBobby McMillan's Personal Log.
Stardate 72323.6
Two days after the destruction of the USS Malta.

I don't believe it. I still don't believe it. The USS Malta, gone. Destroyed. Thankfully, its crew is safe.

Kieran just contacted me with the news. He was upset, and understandably so. To lose one's ship... it's one of the worst nightmares any starship captain can have, and Kieran's in the middle of it now. There will be a board of inquiry, of course... standard protocol when a ship has been destroyed. I've sent a message to Starfleet Command already, volunteering to be on that board. Hopefully they'll let me. Kieran has not only been my XO in the past... he's also a close friend. I cannot in good conscience let him stand trial, without doing my utmost best to convince the board that there were extenuating circumstances. Whatever those were.

Several starships are being sent out to help with the salvation of the Malta wreckage. Unfortunately, the Gibraltar won't be part of that taskforce, as much as I would want us to be. According to Starfleet Command, the Gibraltar is needed elsewhere, studying the Jo'gon nebula's gas emissions. Seriously... they could at least have come up with a more plausible excuse to not send out the Gibraltar. I can read between the lines: they know about my friendship with Kieran, and they're afraid I might tamper with the evidence to make sure Kieran and his crew are found to be innocent at the upcoming trial.

And I'm ashamed to admit, they might have a point. I know Kieran, I know his crew. Many of them used to be my crew. I would go through hell to help them.

Sadly, there's not much I can do for them now. Still, I'll definitely be at Kieran's hearing. Even if I can't be on the board of inquiry, I'll definitely be there to support him and his crew. For now though... I guess it's time to get underway and study that nebula...




Captain RoBobby McMillan's Personal Log.
Stardate 72353.9
Twelve days after the destruction of the USS Malta. 

Well, Starfleet Command just got back to me. I've been denied a seat on the board of inquiry. No surprise there. At least this time they were honest about the reason: they felt that I couldn't be impartial. Ah well, it was worth a try.

They did however, invite me to be there. After all, Kieran might want to call me up to the stand as a character witness. Kieran already contacted me about that, as well. I made him a promise: I'll be there. And I intend to keep that promise. Kieran's my friend. I won't let him down.

It shouldn't be hard to be on time, either: the Gibraltar's mission in this area of space is almost complete. We've studied this nebula as much as we can. Nothing interesting, except for a slightly larger amount of chroniton particles than was expected in a nebula this size. We'll stay around for a couple more days, just to be thorough... but I think even the Science department is running out of stuff to do. The rest of the crew is just bored. Except Commander Sardek, of course. But then again, I don't think I've ever seen him display any kind of emotions.

Well, I'd better check in on the Bridge again. There might still be some particles we haven't analysed.

Heh. I miss the days when science assignments like these would still excite me...



USS Gibraltar, Senior Officers Meeting transcript
Stardate 72361.2
Fifteen days after the destruction of the USS Malta. 

McMillan:
Alright. I've called you all here because... well, you know the reason. Two hours ago, a strange pulse started emanating from the nebula, and it's engulfing the Gibraltar. Hull integrity is dropping rapidly. Any effort so far to stop it, has been unsuccessful. I want options, people.

Science officer:
Well, we've tried everything, Sir. Sending a deflector pulse back at the reversed frequency of the pulse didn't work. Alternating those frequencies, didn't work either. Changing our shield frequency and sending out particles to counteract the pulse, all resulted in the same: no change. And we still cannot find out where this pulse is coming from, or why it's targeting the Gibraltar.

Engineering officer:
Hull integrity is approaching critical, Captain, even with the Structural Integrity Field as high as it is. We've transferred all the power we can spare to the SIF and the shields, and then some... but it doesn't seem to be making any difference. We're looking at a complete hull disintegration in fifteen minutes, perhaps less.

Tactical officer:
Even firing our phasers and torpedoes at the direction of this pulse, didn't have any effect.

Helmsman:
It'd be a simple case of just moving out of the way, but the pulse immediately disabled our engines when it hit us. We've been trying to get them back online, but we just didn't have any luck with that either.

McMillan:
Come on people, think. There's got to be something we haven't tried...

XO:
Yes... evacuate the ship.

McMillan:
What?

XO:
Nothing we have done so far, has had any effect. For the last two hours, our hull strength has been dropping steadily. We have done everything by the book, and more. Whatever this pulse is, it is clear that we cannot stop it from our end. With every other option unavailable to us, the only logical course of action is to evacuate the ship.

Helmsman:
You've got to be joking!

XO:
Vulcans do not make jokes, Lieutenant.

Helmsman:
But how would you know that the shuttles and escape pods won't be caught in that pulse too?

Science officer:
Actually... when we sent out a shuttle to try to tractor the Gibraltar to freedom, the pulse stayed focussed on the ship. It completely ignored the shuttlecraft.

XO:
Precisely. Based upon the pulse's previous behaviour in the last two hours, there is no reason to believe that it will change its target.

McMillan:
As much as it pains me to admit it... you're right.

Helmsman:
Captain!

McMillan:
I'm sorry Lieutenant, but Commander Sardek is right. In less than ten minutes, the hull will rupture. I will not have my crew die just because I was too stubborn to admit defeat to this... whatever this pulse is. We'll evacuate the ship. I'll inform the crew. Thank you all... and dismissed.


USS Gibraltar, Captain's Log
Stardate 72361.3
Fifteen days after the destruction of the USS Malta. 

Captain's Log, supplemental.
Captain RoBobby McMillan reporting for the final time.

This will be my final log on board the Gibraltar. I'm transmitting this log to the evacuation shuttle's memory core directly as I'm making it, to keep track of the Gibraltar's final moments. 

We have been unable to stop the pulse's deterioration of the hull. In just a few minutes, the hull will buckle, and the Gibraltar will be no more. Evacuation is completed: my departmentheads have informed me that the final shuttle has just left the ship. I will be departing the ship soon, via the last escape pod left here at the Bridge. From there, the small fleet of escape pods and shuttles will leave the nebula, and head to Federation space.

I guess it's time for me to go too. For the record, I'd like to state that my crew has served above and beyond the call of duty.

Goodbye Gibraltar. You will be missed.

Computer... end log.


Shuttle Erikson, XO's log
Stardate 72361.3
Fifteen days after the destruction of the USS Malta.

This is Commander Sardek reporting on the events that have transpired in the last few minutes. We had all left the Gibraltar, except for the Captain, who felt very strongly about saying goodbye to the ship. He signalled us that he was just  taking the escape pod left for him, when the pulse's intensity and colour changed. A white flash occurred, and there was no trace of the Gibraltar, Captain McMillan, or the pulse that had been enveloping the ship for two hours.

I have assumed command of the evacuation fleet. I did manage to get some sensor data with the shuttle's limited sensors, but with that task completed, the most logical course of action is to leave the nebula now. Captain McMillan's orders were clear: we need to get the crew to safety. I am certain though, that Starfleet will come back here, to determine what exactly happened.

Commander Sardek, XO USS Gibraltar, out.


Admiral Mendez, official statement.
August 2396
13 months after the destruction of the USS Malta.

Over a year has passed, since the accident in which the USS Gibraltar and Captain RoBobby McMillan went missing. In that time, Starfleet has sent several science expeditions to the Jo'gon nebula, to find out what happened. All investigations came back negative, though.

A year is a long time. And while we aren't giving up on McMillan, we cannot afford to send in new science expeditions. It is time we faced the facts: Captain McMillan is not coming back.

It is my solumn duty to hereby declare Captain RoBobby McMillan, Missing In Action. Our thoughts and prayers go to his friends and next of kin.

Admiral Mendez, out.



The USS Gibraltar *will* be back...

The vanishing act

Captain's log,
Captain RoBobby McMillan reporting.

When the USS Gibraltar was sent out to the Romulan neutral zone once again, I expected a peaceful mission. We were only going to scan a couple of planets and an interesting looking nebula, after all. But unfortunately, like my first officer Commander Johnson already predicted, it was just silence before the storm.

We received a distress call from the Galaxy class starship USS Grissom. It was a general distress call, meaning their crew had very little time to send one out in the first place. They were in orbit of planet Delta 4, an as of yet unexplored L-class planet on the edge of the neutral zone. Engaging at maximum warp, Lt.Cmdr. Duke brought the Gibraltar to the coordinates.

En-route, lieutenants Penny Billstrom and Mitsuki Renari worked together with crewman S'Age at science, to determine what was the cause of the distress call. It didn't take long to find out that the Grissom was under attack... by two Romulan D'deridex class warbirds. It would be tough for the Gibraltar to take them on, but it seemed we had no choice.

Once we dropped out of warp, it became clear that the Romulan's disruptorfire had caused a warpcorebreach in the stardrive section of the Grissom. My crew managed to remotely trigger the Grissom's separation sequence, at which point Lt. Renari activated the tractorbeam and pulled the saucer section to relative safety.

Unfortunately, the stardrive section's warpcore chose that moment to explode. The shockwave hit the Gibraltar and what was left of the Grissom hard. Luckily, we managed to divert power to our shields and surrounded the Grissom's saucer section with it to offer at least some protection. Still, I knew that it wouldn't be enough: once the shockwave was passed, the Romulans would come down upon us like sledgehammers.

Seconds passed... but nothing happened. A quick look on both the viewscreen and the sensor readouts said exactly the same thing: there were no Romulans. Not anymore, anyway. Both ships, the planet and the debris of the Grissom's stardrive section were gone. Vanished.

This looked eerily familiar. Last time the Gibraltar was in this sector, we encountered a ship that could make a planet disappear. And now yet another planet had miraculously vanished, and with it two Romulan warbirds. There had to be a connection. We needed more data... and there was one place where we might find it.

The USS Grissom.

Leaving Commander Johnson in charge of the Gibraltar, I led an away team over to what was left of the Grissom. A terrible sight greeted us: consoles had exploded, support beams had fallen down and there were fires raging throughout the Grissom's Bridge. Structural integrity throughout the saucer section was dangerously low: it wouldn't take much to let the saucer explode. We needed to work fast.

Thankfully, it wasn't too difficult to find sensor logs for the last several weeks. They were badly damaged of course, but perhaps they could be cleared up on board the Gibraltar. Once the download was in progress though, Lt.Cmdr. Duke informed me that there was a power build-up in the EPS systems. If it blew, the saucer section would blow up as well.

At that moment, Lt. Renari found the Captain's logs. One of those logs was locked with a code that none of my crew had ever seen.

I however, knew exactly what it was.

Computer, secure the next part of this log. No-one may access it, but myself and Starfleet Command. Authorisation, McMillan Tango Charlie 07.

Right... the log. It was encrypted with an omega code. I realised I didn't have much time to find out what exactly was happening here, so I sent the crew back to the Gibraltar, stating that they had to start beaming out as many of the Grissom's survivors as possible. I stayed behind, and downloaded the log for myself. As I read it, my worst fears came true.

The Grissom had detected omega particles on the planet surface.

A call from Lt.Cmdr. Duke brought me out of my train of thoughts: she requested that I'd beam back immediately. Not a bad idea, since the ship was about to blow up. I rematerialised on the Bridge of the Gibraltar, just in time to see the saucer section of the Grissom go up in a ball of fire.

The number of casualties was staggering: only 113 people made it back, out of roughly 1200 crewmembers. We're en-route to Starbase 12 now to bring these people home. We mourn the deceased, and are offering counselling to the survivors who need it.

The destruction of the Grissom was a terrible tragedy. Still, at the risk of sounding callous, it wasn't in vain. We've learned that there were omega particles on the planet which has disappeared. Perhaps there were omega molecules on the previous planet we saw disappear, too? Could those be responsible for this vanishing act? And if so, what part do the Romulans play in all of this?

I recommend Starfleet sends out ships to the neutral zone, to scan various planets there for the presence of omega particles. After all, I have a feeling this will not be the last time we'll see a planet disappear...

Computer, end log and transmit to Admiral Braveheart, Starfleet Command.

Disclaimer: Because T'Lara was unable to attend, we decided that this would be a good alternative. Think of the Gibraltar as the Malta substitute! :)

"Where oh where has that planet gone?"

Captain's log.
I still can barely believe it. Over two years have passed since I left the Gibraltar. I've gone through so much... I've witnessed clones of mine being created and destroyed, I've tried to escape from a madman's prison many, many times, and due to genetic experimentation, for a while I couldn't die.
But all of that is over now. All of that is in the past. Starfleet Medical has given me a clean bill of health, and the counsellors have approved my return to duty. So, when I reported back to the Admiralty a week ago, requesting an assignment, I had no idea they'd put me here.

The USS Gibraltar. My old ship. It's been too long... and yet it immediately feels like home. I missed this ship. And while the crew isn't the same - except for Rich: it would seem I just cannot get rid of him, though I wouldn't dare to try - the fact that there's a crew on board again, fills my heart with joy.

We've received a mission, though. A mission to investigate some strange readings coming from a planet near the Romulan neutral zone. The planet's name is Goran II. Not much is known about this planet: the Federation Starship USS Calhoun had visited it a while back, but only found an M class atmosphere and the remains of an extinct primitive society. Nothing to write home about. So why was it sending out signals?

I'll report back in once we arrive.

Captain's log, supplemental.
We've arrived at Goran II. I know we did: our sensors showed the planet dead ahead, as did the viewscreen. Seconds after arriving though... the planet vanished. It was there... and then it wasn't. I'm letting my science officer run a set of detailed scans, but... so far nothing. No sign of the planet. What could have happened?

Captain's log, supplemental.
Our theory that someone put a cloaking field around the planet was shattered, when the probe we sent out, flew straight through where the planet once was. We quickly confirmed our location: we haven't moved, neither in space nor in time. The only logical conclusion was that the planet itself had moved. But how? What can move an entire planet, without leaving any readings? What...
Hang on, a ship has just arrived... out of nowhere? Perhaps that ship had something to do with the planet's disappearance? Time to find out...

Captain's log, supplemental.
We're on our way back to the Starbase. The Gibraltar has suffered some severe damage, when the alien ship attacked us. Its weapons depleted our shields quickly. We stayed and fought them, but it was no use: a Federation Intrepid class starship which hadn't been updated with new technology for over two years, was no match for this large, powerful alien vessel. We received quite a beating. Upon finishing our full scan of the alien ship, we fled, determined to warn Starfleet about this encounter. An alien race which makes planets disappear... that's new.

Computer, switch to Captain's personal log.
When the ship lurched under the weapons fire, I... fell. And according to the Bridge crew, I broke my neck. My FO was certain I was dead: I wasn't breathing anymore. And yet, after about a minute appearance, I drew breath again. I cannot explain it... my genetically engineered immortality should have been temporary. Apparently though, those bastards did something to me to make it permanent. Does that really mean I cannot die? I don't know. What I do know though, is that it's impossible to go after those 'doctors' who did this to me: I just read a report that the USS Malta took care of M'Tang's cloning operation. All the scientists who worked on the project, are dead. Those imprisoned, don't know enough for me to try to undo this.
Some would see this as a gift. They haven't walked a mile in my shoes. If I cannot die... what will happen to me? What will I become? How will I react to danger in the future? What...

*Sighs*

I guess I'll need to talk to the counsellors, once again... hopefully Starfleet will send another ship out there, to deal with this planet-taking alien race. So far, it's just one backwater planet... but it could be a populated world.
Even after everything I've been through, I find myself worried. And... I don't really know why. That's the most frightening part of all.

Computer... end log.

Captain's Personal Log

Captain's personal log, Stardate...

I don't even know what Stardate it is anymore. All I know is, that it's been approximately two years since I've left the Gibraltar at DS19.
Heh, apparently DS19 is gone now... shows how much has changed.

Anyway... Captain's personal log, stardate... well, today. This is Captain RoBobby McMillan speaking. I've been asked to record this: the counsellors at Starfleet Medical told me that talking about my experiences would stimulate my recovery. The problem is, I don't *want* to talk about it. So counsellors, if you're listening to this, it'll be a very short recording.

Ah what the hell.

It started two years ago. Or longer, actually... it started back when I was assimilated by the Borg, approximately three years ago. While I was rescued by the Gibraltar crew only a few weeks after that, it was enough for the Borg to have access to my DNA... and apparently share it with someone else. For a few months after that horrible incident, we found... me. Or rather, a clone of mine. He was ultimately sent to Starfleet HQ... but it didn't stop there. Multiple clones of multiple crewmembers were found. It was then that we realised... we were not alone.

After another few months,we found something related to the whole clone situation. Starfleet sent us to Echo Colony, where apparently strange signals were coming from, which seemed similar to the signals the clones were emanating. There, we were led into a trap: someone was testing us by subjecting us to all kinds of dangerous situations. This man called himself 'The Director'. This man had to have something to do with the clones... but unfortunately we couldn't find any evidence. Frankly, we were just happy to have made it back to the ship alive!

Our search for the clones went on... but what we didn't know at that time was that they'd been cloned over and over again... dozens, if not hundreds of the Gibraltar crew's clones, were out there... pretending to be us. In fact, it went from bad to worse: the clones actually started attacking outposts, as the USS Gibraltar crew. They even had a fake ship and everything. Since Starfleet refused to do anything about it, we went rogue and tracked the clones ourselves.

I wonder if I should even mention this in my log... but it's probably nothing Starfleet doesn't already know. And well, what are they going to do to me? They can't punish me more than I already have been punished by the Director... But we'll get to that later.

Our time as rogue officers wasn't an easy one. We saved a Federation colony, but we lost Admiral Delacroix. We wanted to clear our name and find the clones who actually attacked the Klingon outpost. After a few weeks though, our luck changed... if you can call it that. We ran into Kelly Heron once again, who reported she had destroyed a Starfleet ship called the Gibraltar, along with ships called the Ohiom and the Pico, who were protecting a clone facility. It was hard to believe: not only the Gibraltar crew had been cloned: the crews of the Ohiom and Pico had suffered the same fate. Luckily, Heron gave us the coordinates of the cloning facility... so we went to have a look. Unfortunately, we didn't find anything. Figures.

After a while, we ran into another cloned version of the USS Ohiom and her crew. They told us they were protecting Starbase 24, but we found out that they were actually about to destroy it. So we engaged them... but suffered heavy casualties. We finally managed to destroy them though... but at great cost.

We were damaged. Defeated. Lost without a friendly port in lightyears. It seemed the end... until we picked up another ship. It was the USS Gibraltar... it was us! Or rather, our clones. I led an away team on board the clone ship, consisting of Sophie Johnson and Richardjrn Weatherwax, as well as Kelly Heron. Unfortunately for us, Sophie had been a clone all along. Luckily, we managed to escape, and take some necessary supplies with us... but the Sophie clone had died. Now, we had to find the *real* Sophie... who'd apparently been left behind at the abandoned cloning facility. Once we actually found her though, she told us some terrible news: DS19 was in danger. The clone ship USS Pico was on its way to destroy the station! It took some doing, but we managed to let Commander Juliesse of DS19 trust us, just in time to destroy the clone ship.

We thought that was the end of it. Our innocence had been proven. We were allowed back into the fleet, and even received a full pardon from Starfleet. Life was as it should be, once again. No more clones: we were unique again.

All that changed though, roughly two years ago now. The Gibraltar was on shore leave at DS19, and I was relaxing in my ready room, when all of a sudden I received a message... from myself. My heart sank as I answered it: it came from a clone of mine. He told me that we didn't destroy all the cloning facilities... and that more clones appeared every day. He said he knew everything about who did it, about a connection to the highest levels of Starfleet Command, and even to the Klingon Empire. He was willing to share it with me... but I had to meet him, face-to-face. Alone. Without the Gibraltar, or my trusted crew. I couldn't contact Starfleet, he said, for I might be talking to a clone without me knowing...

It was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make. I trusted my crew with my life: they had gone rogue for me, they rescued me from the Borg. I owed them everything, and more. How could I not tell them? How could I just leave?
On the other hand, there was my duty as a Starfleet Captain. These clones were dangerous: perhaps even moreso than the Borg or the Dominion. This might be my one and only chance of getting information to destroy them all.
And then there were my personal feelings on the subject. I won't lie: I wanted these clones destroyed. I felt violated, angry, and guilty for letting it go this far. I know, I know, I probably shouldn't have felt this way... but I did. Anyone who'd been in my situation, would.

So I left. I told the crew I'd be back in a few days... and I left.

You know, it almost seems like a pattern: whenever I take a risk, it ends up blowing in my face. The same happened here. When I got to the planet my clone specified, I found his gutted corpse. Someone had killed him before he could give me information. Pretty soon, I was surrounded by... well, my crew. Except they weren't. They were clones too. From a communications device, a voice stated that they should take me down to the dungeons.

I knew that voice.

It was 'The Director'... the same voice we heard at Echo Colony.

I didn't see the sky again for the next two years. I was tortured, interrogated, probed, prodded... they did something to me. At first I thought they wanted to extract genetic material to make better clones, and that was probably part of the reasons for all those experiments. The second part though... well, before I say what that was, I have to explain a few things.

You see, the duty of every officer in captivity is to escape. Plain and simple. I knew nobody knew where I was, but I also knew that the Gibraltar crew wouldn't stop searching for me. So if I could just get to a communications panel or something, I might be able to send a message. So I tried to escape... again and again and again. And every time, I was caught. I don't know how they always knew, but they did. I was beaten, punished, tortured. And then I'd try again. The circle would repeat over and over again...

Until months had passed, and I had no more energy to go on.

It may seem cowardly, but at that point, the only way out was death. So I went for it. I tried to escape once again, and when the clones tried to stop me, I jumped off a cliff. I remember the wind in my hair, the freedom of the fall... the knowledge that soon it would end.

But it didn't end. I woke up on a surgical table, with a doctor looking at me. "Now that wasn't so smart, was it?" he asked.

Ever since, I tried and tried and tried again to kill myself. I starved myself to death, got in a firefight and let myself get shot... I even got run over by gigantic boulders. Every time I did so, I woke up on a surgical table. It left me with one, inescapable conclusion...

I cannot die.

Do you have any idea what kind of a curse that is? Not being able to die? The torture just went on and on, with no possible escape. And all this time, every day, I could hear the voice of the Director, talking to me. Sometimes it was as if I could hear him in my head. In my dreams. All. The. Time. It was maddening.

I overheard conversations: about a Klingon, about Admiral McKenna working for the Director, about Admiral Janeway being captured, the Gibraltar being destroyed, its crew killed. I didn't know what was real and what wasn't. Finally though, I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped resisting. And that was when it all changed.

Because I wasn't going to escape, they often left my cell door unlocked. They knew they had me broken... they knew I had nowhere to go. So when I one day heard about them getting rid of my old shuttle, I almost didn't care.

Almost.

It was as if something inside me rose to the surface and took over. The Starfleet part of me, I think. The Human part of me. When the clones weren't looking, I ran away... I stole the shuttlecraft and took off, only narrowingly avoiding their ships. Still, they hit me pretty bad. Life support was disabled, navigational control was gone... I would be lucky to survive this. But even so, at least it would end.

It didn't end. In what would have been the last few minutes of my life, I heard a voice coming back from the comm channel. =/\=This is Captain Kie Braveheart of the USS Malta.=/\= I couldn't believe it. In fact, I didn't believe it, even when my former XO beamed me on board his ship. I thought they were clones. I was sure of it.

That was, until they actually nursed me back to health. They reacted so differently than all the clones... while the clones would just go about their business, doing what they were told by the Director, these people - some of whom were my former crew! - actually showed independent thoughts and emotions. Sophie in particular seemed rather upset with me. While unpleasant, that could only mean one thing: they couldn't be clones... they were the real deal!

Just as I had found freedom, I almost lost it again: the Director, wherever he was, still had a hold on me through an implant in my brain. That was how he managed to communicate with me, through my dreams. It was hell. Thankfully, Dr. Songlord managed to jam the signals being received by that implants... and the Director's voice disappeared. So while I still have that damned implant inside my brain, hopefully I won't ever hear that voice again.

So that's basically the whole story. It was kind of Captain Braveheart to contact the Lexington and bring me back to Earth, where I can recover. That might take some time... while the Director is no longer in control of my dreams anymore, I still have nightmares about what happened to me. And then there's the fact that apparently I cannot die. Of course it could be the case that the Director used other McMillan clones to replace my damaged and destroyed organs or limbs, in which case I'm no longer the RoBobby McMillan that I thought I was. It also means that the next time I have a fatal accident, I'll actually die. I really don't want to think about this though... it's... troubling.

Well, it's almost time for my 10 o'clock counselling appointment. I'm sure the counsellors here will be pleased that I put down the whole story in my log. And if they're not, then I'm sure Starfleet Intelligence will be: they're no doubt eager to question me about what happened during these two years.

It won't be an easy recovery... but I do think I'll get over it. Eventually. And what I'll do once I've recovered? I honestly don't know. However... I did see a glimpse of the Gibraltar in space dock. Perhaps I can command her once again, in the future. That would be great.
I do have a request for Starfleet though, if they once again put me in charge of the Gibraltar: please, please, please! No more life threatening missions. I could do with some boring science for a change.

This was Captain RoBobby McMillan,
signing off.

Episode 64: "The Assignment"

Timetravel. Every Starfleet officer knew that it could happen to them. There had been countless examples of Starfleet crews travelling backwards or forwards in time. Still, it is strongly forbidden to actively seek out a way to travel through time, because of the risks involved. What if you suddenly change the past, thus creating a whole different reality?

 

For the crew of the USS Gibraltar, travelling through time once had been enough. They had gone to the past, where aliens were collecting people and objects of all times. The Gibraltar crew had managed to prevent any permanent changes to the timeline, but it'd been an experience they didn't want to go through again.

 

So when Ensign th'Ane at Operations reported that a temporal anomaly was forming nearby, the first thing on Captain McMillan's mind was: "Not again." He quickly ordered Ensign Petrov at the Helm to avoid any contact with the anomaly. . . but unfortunately for them, the anomaly wouldn't take no for an answer. It started following them.

Natural anomalies, as far as the Gibraltar crew knew, wouldn't do such a thing. And several temporal anomalies in a couple of weeks? This couldn't be a coincidence anymore. There had to be an intelligence at work. Still, that kind of speculation was best left to the Bureau of Temporal Investigations, so McMillan ordered evasive manoeuvres, to prevent the Gibraltar from interacting with the anomaly.

It didn't do them any good though. Within minutes, the Gibraltar was engulfed by this anomaly. A bumpy ride later, the Gibraltar crew found themselves. . . in the future, near a spacestation of some sorts. There were no lifeforms coming from that station, but the Gibraltar did receive a message from an unknown source:

"Watersupply is poisoned. Beam down and fix the problem."

This, the Gibraltar crew decided, was some sort of distress call, even though it could have been worded differently. Future or not, temporal anomaly or not, they decided that they'd beam down, and see what they could do...

To be continued...

((mostly because SL was acting up... we'll continue next week! Because who knows what awaits us? Stay tuned...))

Episode 63: "Taken from Time"

Captain's Log, Captain RoBobby McMillan reporting.

Time is a strange thing. We believe it goes in one direction, but it's been proven time and time again - pardon the pun - that past, present and future can collide. The words of the Temporal Investigation department still ring in my ears: "Preserving the timeline is paramount. It's more important than anything else, including the Prime Directive." It's hard not to take those guys seriously, I have to say... I've been in difficult debriefings before, but never something such as this!

Of course, after the two months being trapped in a timebubble with the rest of the Gibraltar crew, I thought I would have had my share of temporal anomalies, timetravel and strange time-missions. But no. When Commander Braveheart and myself were at Starbase, the Gibraltar had done some research on the temporal anomaly we had found. They had detected strange readings and even messages form the past. Once I was back on board, I ordered the crew to head back there, and see if we could discover more.

Well, we did. There were old fashioned radiowaves coming through that anomaly. After some modifications to the communications array, we realised we were listening to advertisements from the past: 1969, to be exact. This anomaly was a wormhole of some sorts, but not just through space, but also through time!

I knew something had to be done. This anomaly had a direct connection with Earth, or rather the moon, of the past. It could change the timeline. We needed to check to see if this was or wasn't the case. It wasn't an easy decision, but I finally called the bridge crew to the transporterroom. It was a voluntary mission, to travel to the past, but not surprisingly, just about everyone agreed to come along.

When we rematerialised, it was clear we weren't actually on Earth's moon at all. There was water here, but more importantly, it seemed we had arrived in a gigantic hole or something. There was also an ancient machine standing here, apparently belonging to 'NASA'. According to Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax though, it was a 21st century machine. Did we somehow travel to the 21st century?

As we tried to find out where we were exactly, a bright flash delivered another person here. This man was dressed in an ancient spacesuit, with the NASA logo attached to his suit. He seemed quite surprised that we were here, which was understandable. After some questioning, he said that his name was Colonel John Fearguis. He believed the year was 2022. Could this man be an ancestor of Lieutenant Commander Dave Fearguis, former XO of the Gibraltar?

 

This colonel didn't have the patience that my former XO had, though. Since we refused to answer any questions - we couldn't risk altering the timeline any further - he started overloading the nuclear core inside that 21st century device in order to blow us all up. After all, he said that his government had been warned by an unknown source that enemies would come.

 

Sadly, he wouldn't say anything else. Something needed to be done quickly though: I ordered Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax to disarm the device, after which I told the Gibraltar to beam Fearguis up to Sickbay. I realise it was a drastic action to take, but it needed to be done: he had to have his memories removed.

Once Weatherwax had disarmed the device, I told Ensign Phantom to take all the readings he could possibly get from this place. Someone was obviously collecting people and devices, and we had to know why. When the scans were complete, I ordered the Gibraltar to beam us up.

 

It wasn't long after that, that we could beam colonel Fearguis down to his own ship again. The timeline, as we know it, hasn't changed, so we got lucky. This time. But at least now we know that someone or something is visiting our past. That needs to be stopped.

Right now though, I'm preparing to receive another delegation of the bureau of Temporal Investigations. I can't say I'm looking forward to it...

Computer, end log.