USS Gibraltar Mission 4: "Energy Crisis"

Lt.jg Michael Dale, counselor of the Gibraltar, was rubbing his head. "Damn this headache." He muttered. The fact that he was an empath didn't help either. The violent emotions of the crew were always threatening to overwhelm him. Until now, he had managed to offer resistance. But he did not know how long it would be until he would lose himself in it.

The Gibraltar had been following the energy 'stream' for a while now. This was actually some sort of trail of energy signatures: a trail which seemed to follow the coordinates the renegade officer Slade had been to. If it belonged to Slade, the good counselor didn't dare guess. What he *did* know, was that in the last few days he had been busy. *Very* busy. And all because of this energy stream.

"Mr. Clawtooth," the Captain spoke up, "Are we still following that stream?" There was no reason to believe they weren't following it, since the Captain had long since ordered the persuit of this flow of energy, but the Captain seemed to want to know nonetheless.

The Helmsman answered in a slightly annoyed manner. "Yes Sir." The man answered. "Still following."

The annoyed tone of voice did not surprise Counselor Dale at all. This energy stream was emitting some sort of energy which was harmful to those on board. They had seen it on the planet, where they'd all started getting headaches and becoming dizzy... and that had only been short contamination to the energy. They had been following this energy for days now, and despite their attempt to block it via the shields, it had still sipped through, causing the crew to become restless, fatigued, and generally not in a good mood.

"Any way of adjusting the shields to block out the energy?" Captain McMillan asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was clear that he had a major headache. Being a counselor, Dale knew nothing about shields or anything of the sort. So he didn't dare to speak up.

Lt.Cmdr. McBride though, did. "We might be able to adjust the shields if we have the frequency of the energy stream. Perhaps I remember enough of Science 101 to. . ." He didn't continue, and hopped over to the Science console.

To Dale's surprise and shock, Captain McMillan turned to him. "Counselor, how much do you know about Operations?"

"Uh. . ." the Counselor stammered. "Virtually nothing, Sir?"

This displeased the Captain. "Then you just volunteered to learn more about it. Up you go." Dale stood up obidiently, but he could have sworn he could hear the Captain growl...



Captain McMillan took a very deep breath as the few crewmembers who were actually *not* in Sickbay, were here on the Bridge trying to figure out how to block the negative energy from sipping through the shields. He hated what he became because of this. He hated his annoyance, his short temper, and most of all, he hated his headache. How could he think clearly when his head was being pounded by warpcorebreaches every time?

Nevertheless, he stayed on the Bridge. This was where he belonged: not in Sickbay. Besides, most of his crew, including his First Officer, had already fallen for this. Not him!

"Status?" He asked, impatient, eager for results.

And he got them. "Odd." Chief Engineer McBride responded. "Oh, I can modify the shields, no problem. But the readings I'm getting are negative, instead of positive." He paused, and shook his head. "Well, I will be able to modify the shields, but then we'd have to drop them first."

On an intellectual level, Captain McMillan recognised the puzzle this brought with it. A negative energy? That had never been seen before. Though... there were records of the crew of the USS Enterprise, NCC 1701, going through the galactic barrier, and measuring negative energy too. Was this roughly the same?

On a more basic level though, Captain McMillan wasn't interested in what kind of energy was being measured. "Just adjust the shields before we. . ."

Explosions on the Bridge caused him to stop talking. They were under attack! Red Alert claxons echoed through the Bridge. What was going on? Was it the Romulans? Was it the energy? Was it something else?

Nothing showed up on sensors. Absolutely nothing. McMillan's head almost exploded when he saw this. Nothing? No. . . "Sir, sensors are detecting a faint gravimetric distortion on the starboard bow." McBride reported. "Sensors are having difficuly getting a lock on it, but it is there."

Options immediately flashed through McMillan's tired brain. Romulans? A black hole forming? The universe ripping apart? No, Romulans seemed more likely. But they can't fire when cloaked, can they?



McBride's hands flew over the console. First the energy stream, then the shields, and now that he finally had come up with an answer, they were being attacked. This was most certainly *not* his day. "Further analysis confirms: it's a plasma torpedo, being beamed just in front of our shields, Cappn." He didn't like Science: he was an Engineer, first and foremost. But the situation called for a scientific point of view. Fine. He was an officer, and a damned good one. He would jump in where necessary.

McBride watched as the Captain became angry when Counselor Dale couldn't open a hailing frequency quickly enough. He felt sorry for both people, but there would be plenty of time for pity later on. First, they had to get rid of these Romulans.

Well, talking didn't seem to help. He wondered if firing at the Romulans would though, since the sensors just barely registered the distortions. Nevertheless, Captain McMillan opted to give it a try. The first shot failed, as did the second. But the third. . .

"We hit something Sir." Said Ensign Starek. "I've got coordinates."

"Then fire at will!" McMillan almost shouted. "Commander, let me know the moment they change course."

Easy for you to say. The Engineer thought, as he kept an eye on the sensors in the back of the Bridge. As the ship shook with another plasma torpedo hitting them, he wished he could just be in Engineering, taking care of the damaged systems. But no. He was needed here. So here he would stay. For now.

Finally, some more sensor readings. "I'm detecting plasma eminating from that distortion, Cappn." McBride announced. "I believe we've hit their warp nacelle. They're retreating."



Captain McMillan smiled, despite the pain in his head. He was almost standing up, joyful that they had caused their enemy to withdraw. But they weren't done yet. "Mr. Clawtooth, keep your distance. Mr. Starek, fire some more torpedoes after them, make sure they get the message to not return and fire at us. And Commander McBride. . ." He paused, and looked at the Engineer. "Reset the shields." It was time to be protected against this harmful energy.

A chorus of "Aye Sir" echoed through the Bridge, and all went to work. Clawtooth held his course, Dale transferred energy to the shields, Starek fired torpodoes, and... McBride dropped the shields.

At that moment, the enormous headache which McMillan had been experiencing so far seemed like nothing compared to what he was feeling now that the energy wasn't hindered by the shields. He gasped, he blinked, he became dizzy. For a moment, he thought he'd lose consciousness... until finally McBride put the shields back up again. Where once was headache, there now was nothing. No pain at all.

Exhaling slowly, McMillan hoisted himself back in his chair, swallowing uncomfortably. That was one experience he never hoped to go through again. This energy was dangerous: that was certain. And now that they were protected, they would go and find out where exactly this energy came from...

"Well done crew." McMillan muttered as he sat up straight. "Well done."

USS Gibraltar Mission 3: "The Energy Enigma"

On and on it went. The Weapon had been here. It could practically *smell* her. But this planet held no interesting items. No interesting weapons. One of the beings had proven to be effective... to be worthy enough to be followed. Just one, out of an entire universe. So when she had escaped, it had followed her. At a safe distance, at first. Not showing anything when she destroyed the Romulan warbird. Coming slightly closer during her encounter with the pointy eared beings at the planet. And now on to another planet. She certainly got around.

Not that it was any of it's business. It was just here to follow. So follow, it did. Soon, if all went according to plan... if it was allowed to do something... then soon, the Weapon would be theirs. Another one to their collection. The Weapon known as Slade would resist, of course... but it was fully prepared for that.

So slowly, gently, it followed. Leaving nothing in its path, except destruction, and a gentle wave of energy...

-----

Kieran Braveheart was surprised as he looked through the readings again. "Confirmed Sir." he answered Captain McMillan's question. "This energy is unlike any we have encountered before." He glanced at the Captain, and wondered what the man was thinking now. This kind of unknown energy, this close to Alpha Menea... and then also that close to the Romulan warbird that this renegade Slade had been to... it couldn't have been a coincidence.

But why the unknown energy? If it truly *was* Slade who was leaving an energy trail -something which didn't seem very likely, since Slade simply didn't leave any trails- then why would it be an *unknown* energy trail? It would have been more logical to detect a trail which they *could* understand. But this...

"Whatever it was," came the voice of Lt.jg Chu from Engineering, "It has been big. Captain..." she looked at McMillan with worries in her eyes. "The only race I can think of that has vessels this big, are the Borg."

A flash of alert echoed through the Bridge officers... but luckily this quickly dissipated. "Borg don't leave energy waves like this, Lieutenant." McMillan replied as he glanced at the viewscreen. "Ensign Braveheart, is there any way to boost sensor efficiency?"

Braveheart glanced at Chu, and both nodded. "Boosting power to the sensors." Chu's voice echoed through the Bridge. "Try it now."

But even with extra power, it just wasn't enough. They seemed to have reached a dead end: how to track down an energy trail to see where that huge ship had gone to, if they couldn't detect the energy in the first place? Unless... "Tachyon beam." Braveheart burst out. "We might be able to make the energy visible with a Tachyon beam."

Captain McMillan and Commander Arado were in agreement: Science and Engineering could work on such a beam. And moments later, the beam was fired from the main deflector dish, lighting up the energy trail like an old fashioned christmas tree... before it faded again. But it was enough. "Analysing data Sir." Braveheart reported, and then with a smile, added "sending coordinates to the Helm."

***

It had taken roughly an hour for the Gibraltar to arrive at the unknown planet where the energy seemed to have taken them. Mr. Clawtooth at the Helm had done a great job getting the Gibraltar there safely, and he silently wondered if the Captain would notice this. Judging by the frown on his face though, he most likely didn't. Clawtooth couldn't blame him, actually: the Captain was a scientist at heart. This kind of stuff fascinated him. Not that Clawtooth thought this was boring: on the contrary. He just hoped that one of these missions would involve more than just flying somewhere, getting into high or low orbit, or...

"We're beaming down." Captain McMillan ordered the Bridge crew. Apparently they had found the source of at least some of the energy. That was the good news. The bad news: down on the planet there was radiation... too much in fact, for anyone to survive down there. Doctor Bourne had -praise the man- whiped up some injections for all. But they wouldn't last more than 30 minutes. After that... well, Clawtooth would rather not think of that.

So after getting the injection -and trying to get used to the slightly uncomfortable feeling that always gave- Clawtooth and the rest of the USS Gibraltar's senior crew, were ready to beam down.

***

Not for the first time since beaming down to the planet, Captain McMillan wished he had brought down an EV suit, like most of his crew. He was cold, he was feeling nauseated, and his cough didn't seem to be improving. The fact that he was drenched with water -a rather unfortunate landing spot to be sure- didn't help either. He understood that the radiation was getting to him, but he didn't want to show anything. They had to keep on going.

What they found down here though, was interesting, to say the least. Buildings and vehicles which were damaged, though did have evidence that they were used very recently. Slade's DNA was also found. Quickly, the Captain put one and one together, and blamed this destruction and the lack of lifeforms on Slade. 'Damn.'

He coughed again as his crew found some buildings which weren't damaged. Now that was a surprise: it was also the source of the radiation, and some of the energy they've been searching for. When approaching it though, the Captain felt as if someone or something was squeezing the life out of him. He could no longer produce a full sentence without coughing at least twice, and his clear vision was impared as well. He felt dizzy, nauseous, and nearly passed out. It was because of the quick thinking of Doctor Bourne that he was beamed to safety of the Gibraltar...


***
Commander Unadecal Arado watched his Captain disappear in a hint of blue light. "I want to know exactly what happened." The Commander demanded. Truth be told, he wasn't feeling all that good himself. Odd, since this morning he still had a harty breakfast... something he was now regretting.

"Commander," Kelly Heron, the somewhat rebellious, but oh-so-good Tactical Officer, spoke up as she waved her tricorder around. "The energy. It's all around us. And it's intensifying." She looked directly at him. "I recommend we get out of here."

Arado met her eyes, and saw she was serious. More than that... she was certain that getting away from this damned place was the best thing to do. He could see it in her eyes... and that was enough for him. Besides, he already started to feel light-headed: no reason to become like the Captain... Clearly, this energy had to be causing this, somehow. Or the radiation antidote didn't work as the doctor had planned. 'or both' He realised grimly.

Quick action was required here... and quick action was what Arado did. While around him his crewmates were grabbing to their heads, stomaches or tried to keep balance -whatever was happening, it was happening to them too- Commander Arado tried to keep his head calm, and tapped his commbadge. "Arado to Gibraltar. Six to beam up... NOW!"

-----

The beings seemed to have discovered its energy trail. Well, no matter. They also seemed to have gotten ill, though not serious. A pity. They went back to their ship, hopefully so shocked by the experience that they'd never follow it's energy trails again. Though it knew it was not efficient to hope such things, it did feel apprehension. What if those beings in their ship would to track it again?

It mused softly, as it followed the Weapon. Soon, it would not matter anyway. On and on it went... forever, if necessary.

Mission 2, stardate 2008-08-13. "Alpha Menea"

Commander Unadecal Arado shifted in his seat. Sitting in the First Officer's chair was still kind of new to him. As was this ship, this crew. Had the first mission gone as planned, the Gibraltar would have arrived at the former Romulan planet Alpha Menea to find out who lived on this planet, and perhaps to help the Romulans there. Now, the Gibraltar arrived at Alpha Menea to aid the Romulans living there, because the Starfleet rogue officer, Slade, had paid these people a visit.

Arado -called Una by his friends- glanced at the viewscreen. The Gibraltar dropped out of warp, and gracefully maneuvred into orbit thanks to Mr. Clawtooth, the helm officer on duty. It wasn't long before Captain McMillan called the Bridge crew to the Transporterroom... and -after scanning for any obvious boobytraps- they beamed down to the surface.

What they found was indescribable. The damage done here was immense. Arado figured it was all because of Slade, but that was of course an assumption he couldn't verify. Yet. Perhaps if they'd just be able to talk to a few of these Romulans... Perhaps then they'd get a clearer message about what was going on here.

And they got to talk to a Romulan alright. Right in the open, a voice which seemed to come from out of nowhere spoke to them. "Starfleet. We have you surrounded. One wrong move and you will be fired upon."

As Captain McMillan negotiated with this Romulan -a man named Tobek, who apparently was part of a Rogue Romulan faction- Arado and the crew looked around. Ms. Kelly Horen, the Tactical Officer, used her cat-like athletics -something more than one crewmember on board were jealous at, Arado knew- to scout the area, and to see if they were indeed surrounded. Her report came back negative: the Romulan Commander was bluffing.

Using this information, and the fact that the Gibraltar had the medical facilities needed in order to help the wounded, Captain McMillan formed a compromise. He, Ms. Horen, Counselor Dale and Mr. Clawtooth, would remain on the planet surface to talk to Commander Tobek. Commander Arado would take Doctor Bourne, the wounded, and Security Officer Goldfield back to the Gibraltar. From there, perhaps he would learn more.

As the blue beam envellopped him, Arado glanced at the Captain, and wondered if this was such a good idea...

Captain McMillan watched as Commander Arado and his team were beamed back by the Gibraltar. Only four remained behind: himself, the counselor, the helmsman and the tactical officer. The smaller team would now meet with Commander Tobek... though it was still a long walk.

The damage they saw during this walk was incredible. To McMillan's eyes, anyway. Horen seemed to be used to this, for some strange reason. I will have to keep an eye on this one. the Captain thought to himself, as he lead his team up onto a less than sturdy looking bridge. They were almost there.

But then, disaster struck. Either by design flaw, or because of the damage -the latter seemed more likely- the bridge started to shake underneath them. "We have to climb down, now!" Horen suggested. But there wasn't time. It was every officer for himself. They jumped... down to the long and harsh landscape that lay beneath them.

Horen and Dale both had cat-like abilities which caused them to land rather softly on the ground below. But Clawtooth and McMillan were less lucky. This will require a visit to sickbay when we're back. the Captain thought with a grimace, as he came down. They were still able to walk, but he promised himself that he wouldn't do this often...

There was no sign of the Romulan Commander. None at all. What they did find though, was some sort of Teleporter. "Could Slade have used this to transport away from here?" McMillan inquired. Horen seemed pretty sure of this. But that would mean Slade could be anywhere...

As the Captain, Counselor and Helmsman discussed what to do, Horen activated a device, which produced some sort of hovercraft. Horen smiled to herself, boarded it, and asked the Captain permission to scout the area. When she got it, she raced off.

When she came back, all that she carried with her was a bag with some of the belongings of the Romulan Commander. "He must have stepped on a boobytrap." she reported, while throwing the bag in front of her Captain. "This was all I could find."

As the Captain laid eyes on the bag, he wondered, not for the first time, how many more people had to die because of Slade. How much longer would it take before the renegade woman was found? Forever, it would seem. Especially with them not knowing where she was, now...

It was Horen though, who found a solution. "We can track this transporter." she said, matter-of-factly. "Let it send us a signal when it's being used again. Perhaps Slade will come back, and she'll use this again to teleport somewhere else. When she does, we got her."

Captain RoBobby McMillan smiled faintly. Finally, a chance to capture Slade. Would it be possible? Perhaps. But that was all he needed for now. A glimmer of hope. "Make it so, Ms. Horen." He ordered. He watched with great interest as Horen rummaged through the wires... and then seemed to put a device in? Well... she probably knew what she was doing. Besides, it was time to get back to the ship...

As the blue transporterbeams delivered the crewmembers back at USS Gibraltar, Commander Arado smiled, and released a sigh he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Welcome back Captain. Sickbay reports the wounded are stable. They will be ready for transport soon enough." He paused, trying to see the Captain's reaction. "Any luck on the planet surface?"

"Tobek is dead." was the Captain's reaction. "Stepped on one of Slade's undiscovered boobytraps." He paused for a moment before continuing. "This woman must be stopped. Before she does more damage. Before more innocent people have to suffer."

Arado nodded sympathically. He had read the Captain's file... as well as Slade's file. He had been shocked to find out that they had known each other in the past. Known each other very well, even. But the Captain was a professional... or so he hoped. And if not, he certainly was.

"So have you been able to track her down?" Arado asked.

Shaking his head, McMillan answered. "Not yet. But we will." He smiled faintly at his crew. "No matter what the cost. No matter what... we will track her down. Sooner or later."

Arado nodded... but in his mind he remained doubtful. How could someone like Slade be caught by the Gibraltar, where so many other crews had failed?

Mission 1: Stardate 2008-08-06. "The Encounter"

Before Captain RoBobby McMillan knew what was going on, a trapdoor opened up beneath him. Feeling gravity take hold of him -the Romulan warbird's gravity plating did seem to be working: a feature he had thanked moments before- he was lying on the floor of an airlock. The hatch closed, the automated airlock started to be put into motion.

Though dying wasn't an unfamilar experience to the Captain, he did not want to go through it again. Not if he could help it. Quickly, he tapped his commbadge. "McMillan to Gibraltar."

No response. The airlock opened, but the forcefield was still in place. Not for long though, should standard procedure be followed. "McMillan to Gibraltar! Beam me up! Now!"

No response though. Either his commsignal wasn't coming through, or his crew just didn't have time to answer. Not that it would matter anyway: the airlock had opened, and Captain McMillan could hear the forcefield disappearing. The air disappeared out into space. . . and he with it.

In these few seconds that he would still have left conscious, he thought about what had happened. His first ship to command... also his last ship to command. Just a few hours on her maiden voyage, and they'd lose their Captain already.

It had all started to well. Everyone was excited: McMillan included. He had met the crew. From an enthusiastic experienced First Officer Arado, to the Chief Engineer Fitzgerald. Security Chief Akina with Asst. Chief Weintraub, the scientist Foxley, the counselor Dale... his entire senior crew was a good bunch. They would need to become a crew, but they were already good individuals. Nothing could go wrong. Absolutely nothing.

Their mission: to go to the former Romulan sector Alpha Mesea and explore, perhaps aid the general population with whatever they need. Ever since the fall of the Romulan Star Empire, there has been chaos in that part of the Galaxy. The Gibraltar was being sent there to help out, wherever necessary.

Their mission didn't start off well, though. Only a few hours after they left, they received a distress call: a Romulan Warbird was in trouble. Of course Captain McMillan and the crew of the Gibraltar responded immediately. But when they beamed over, they found... nothing. An empty shell without any crew. Stains were everywhere; the only whitnesses to a bloody massacre.

A transmission from a rogue Romulan explained everything. The Captain was shocked to find that these Romulans had all been slaughtered by the hands of one woman: a renegade Starfleet Officer, with the name of...

"Demeter Slade." Captain McMillan muttered with his last breath. She had defeated them all. He reputation preceeded her, and was well earned at that. She had not only overrun the entire Romulan warbird and stole a shuttle heading for the Alpha Menea system... she had also activated several boobytraps. McMillan had fallen into one of those, and his crew was busy fighting the rest. But none of it would matter soon. He would die... again. He wasn't particularly looking forward to it.

But then the bright blue beam of light enveloped him. Next he knew, he and his crew were safely back in the transporterroom. They had barely escaped death at the hands of Slade... and they never even saw her.

As his crew took their places at their stations, Captain McMillan sat down in his chair. Slade. What had been the odds to run into her in this far end of space. But he couldn't just ignore this. With a heavy heart, he spoke up the words which would either lead to the capture of Slade... or the destruction of the Gibraltar.

"Helm. Set in a persuit course." They had to follow her to wherever she would go. And at the moment, that was go Alpha Menea. The Captain could only imagine what kind of horrible deeds Slade would do there.

He exhaled slowly, feeling the responsibility on his shoulders. "Engage."