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."
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