Episode 48: Recalled

The walk down the corridors of the Gibraltar was a long one: the longest Captain McMillan ever had to take. The reason was tragic at best: the Gibraltar had been recalled, its crew grounded. And here he was, escorting his crew out of the ship, onto the Starbase. It just wasn't fair. But Admiral Delacroix was watching... and waiting.

429 Klingons. That was how many had died at a Klingon outpost, not far from the Federation border. The outpost had been under attack. Klingon ships hurrying to the outpost's aid found one ship retreating from battle after having destroyed the outpost. That ship – a Federation ship – was positively identified as the USS Gibraltar. And now, the Klingons screamed for justice... for revenge.

Since the alliance between the Federation and the Klingon empire was struggling already, Starfleet Command had recalled the Gibraltar's Captain first, before recalling the ship and crew too. Admiral Delacroix had been quite clear on the matter: there would be a formal inquiry to the Gibraltar's actions... and then someone needed to pay the price, to satisfy the Klingons. McMillan understood what would happen next.

So, he volunteered to be sent to the Klingons, to be put in a Klingon prison cell, awaiting his 'trail', for lack of a better word. At least the Gibraltar crew would go free, or at least be reassigned without loss of their careers.

 

"But Captain," Ensign Johnson protested, as the crew beamed over to the Starbase's promenade to have one last get-together, "You cannot allow this. We will not allow this. You know what the Klingons will do to you."

"I have an idea, yes." McMillan answered.

"Sir, you cannot do this." Westland stepped up. "We'll fight this. There must be another way."

McMillan tilted his head to the side for a moment, a shimmer of hope in his eyes, before he shook his head again. "No, Commander. There's nothing for you to do but go on with your lives."

Now various other members of the Gibraltar crew started protesting. McMillan wanted to speak up, but Admiral Delacroix and his aide, Ensign Zwilling, entered. "Are you ready, Captain? The Klingons are waiting."

 

"Just. . . give me some time with my crew, please." McMillan said to the Admiral. "It's more than likely I will never see them again."

The Admiral shook his head, but then sighed. "Very well then Captain. Two minutes." With that, he instructed his aide to stay here, while he walked out of the establishment.

"Gather around." McMillan said to his crew, gesturing them forward. "We don't have much time." He paused, and took in a deep breath. "It's been an honour serving with all of you."

"The honour's ours." Commander Braveheart interrupted, at which point the entire crew nodded. "And you cannot let them do this Sir. We've done nothing wrong."

"No we haven't, Commander." McMillan agreed. "It could be the clones." Starfleet refused to believe that their clones, which they knew were out there, could have done something like this. . . but McMillan knew there wasn't any other explanation.

"Then we should be out there, proving our innocence." Westland cut in.

McMillan looked up at his crew. In the background, he saw Admiral Delacroix entering the bar again, coming to take him away. "This is important." He whispered. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes Sir," Braveheart answered for all the crew. And they all did, too.

"Would you be willing to jeopardise your careers by trying to find out who is trying to frame us?" McMillan asked again.

"In a heartbeat." came the response.

"Alright." McMillan said with a smile. "That's all I wanted to know."

"Captain McMillan," Delacroix said, approaching the group. "It's time."

"Yes." McMillan said in response. "It is." With a quick tap to his commbadge, he spoke up. "Gibraltar computer, this is Captain McMillan. Activate programme McMillan Tango 2, enable." Almost immediately, a mass site-to-site transport took place, delivering the crew of the Gibraltar back to their ship. They were escaping.

"Helm, take us out." McMillan spoke up as he sat down in his chair on the Bridge. "Set a course for Klingon space. Tactical, raise shields. Science, send out a scattering field to prevent the Starbase from locking onto us."

"Not so fast, Captain." As he heard that voice, McMillan turned around. There stood Admiral Delacroix, with his aide, pointing a phaser at him. Apparently the computer had transported them on board too. "Stand down."

"You stand down, Sir." McMillan responded, seeing that both Johnson and Westland had weapons aimed at the duo. "You're outnumbered. And it would seem as if you're our guests, for the time being. I'm sorry Sir, but I cannot return you to the Starbase."

"You do realise you're breaking a dozen rules and regulations, Captain." Delacroix went on, still trying to convince McMillan. Or perhaps he was just buying time for the Starbase crew to detect what was going on. "You'll never be welcome in Federation space again."

"So be it." This mission would not be without risk, McMillan knew that too. They were about to go into Klingon space, even though the Klingons weren't all too happy with the Gibraltar right about now. . . only to try and prove that they didn't destroy the Klingon outpost. It was a long shot. . . but one they had to take.

"Helm," McMillan spoke up again, "Engage."

As the Gibraltar warped away from the Starbase, McMillan knew that his crew's lives as Starfleet Officers, were over. Their lives as fugitives, had just begun...