Episode 54: "There's nothing down there"

It was good to have a lead. To have something to hold on to, a little hint of hope that they'd find something to prove their innocence. Captain RoBobby McMillan knew from experience that he had to take into account that Kelly had bombed the crap out of just about everything down on the planet surface, but he couldn't help but hope that something of the cloning facility that Kelly had found, still remained. If so, they'd have enough proof to return to Starfleet, showing the top brass that they were *not* responsible for the destruction of the Klingon outpost. Then their days as fugitives would finally be over.

 

McMillan had to admit, the life as a fugitive wasn't really for him. Always on the run, looking over his shoulder, while still carrying the responsibility for his crew. He wouldn't show that he was uncomfortable with their current predicament of course, but still. . . in the privacy of his quarters, he often wondered what he had brought down on the crew of the Gibraltar. They all deserved so much better. Perhaps he should have allowed himself to be captured – and probably executed – by the Klingons?

Still, what's done was done. He couldn't change the past. Instead, he had to look forward. Right now, there was a chance to find something on this planet which would help the Gibraltar crew. If there was something, they'd find it.

Unfortunately though, upon beaming down, it seemed as if there *was* something here. . . just not something that'd help them in any way. Mere minutes after having rematerialised on the planet's surface, various crewmembers started coughing. There was some sort of gas in the air that hadn't been detected from orbit... and not only did it cause health problems for most of the crew, it also seemed to interfere with the transporters!

 

The only two who weren't affected with Ensign Johnson – because of her Trill physiology, apparently – and Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax, because he was a hologram. As the Gibraltar crew beamed back on at the time, McMillan ordered the duo to search the area for anything useful.

Back on board the Gibraltar, the away team reported in at Sickbay for a full checkup. Ms. Lavecchia had apparently taken in quite a lungful of the toxic gasses, and she was in bad shape. McMillan wondered silently what would happen to her, and if she'd survive or not, when Ensign Johnson and Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax transported back to the ship. It would seem as if Kelly had done quite a thorough job: there was nothing down there. Nothing but ruins. 

Not only was there nothing to prove the Gibraltar's innocence, one of their crewmembers was in bad shape. Luckily, Ensign Johnson managed to synthesise an antidote against the toxin, which luckily helped Ms. Lavecchia to her feet again. The danger was averted, which was good of course. . . but McMillan was painfully aware that they were back to square one: not only didn't they have any proof that they didn't destroy the outpost, but they also had no idea where to look next...

Episode 53: "A hostile reunion"

Ensign Katie Zwilling stood quietly on the bridge of the USS Gibraltar. By all accounts and purposes, she was the only *real* remaining Starfleet officer here. All the others were traitors, fugitives, trying to prove a point. Why couldn't they just head back to Starfleet, explain the whole situation? Starfleet would take the so-called clone threat seriously. If there ever was such a thing, of course. She often wondered if McMillan and his crew were really convinced that they didn't destroy the Klingon outpost of the House of Kar'Tog, or if they were just trying to convince her and themselves along with it.

The last few weeks had been difficult for her. She had been abducted by this crew, taken against her will just because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Next to that, she had nothing to do here. She was an Admiral's Aide without an Admiral.

She bit her lip. Admiral Delacroix had been a great man. He could have easily become one of Starfleet's highest ranking admirals. He had a bright future in front of him... but sadly that had been taken away by these people. The Admiral had died on an away mission, commanded by Captain McMillan. Why hadn't he died? Why had it be the Admiral? And why had McMillan felt the need to bring the Admiral and Katie herself along on that mission? They could have easily stayed on the ship. Prisoners, sure, but at least they'd be safe. And the Admiral would have been alive.

Now, he was gone, and with him, all of Katie's hopes of getting through this terrible situation. She had never felt more lonely in her life. When would this nightmare be over?

Katie noticed that Ensign Johnson looked at her. She too seemed distracted. Well, she'd better be. She had been in charge of the away team security back when the Admiral died. She had failed, and because of her, Delacroix was dead, and Katie was alone.

In fact, this entire crew was guilty. If they had only put their faith in Starfleet's legal system, none of this would have happened. But no, they had to escape. It was *their* fault that Delacroix had died. It was their fault that Katie was miserable. She hoped that Starfleet would catch up with the Gibraltar sooner rather than later.

At that moment, the Operations console chirped. Ms. Lavecchia looked up and turned to Captain McMillan. "Sir," she reported, "sensors are detecting a Klingon Bird of Prey. . . with an unusual signal."

This seemed to catch the Captain's attention. "Define unusual, Ensign?"

Katie glanced at the young woman at Operations. The Gibraltar crew was made up out of a lot of Ensigns, she realised. And they would remain like that for the rest of their lives, she figured: Starfleet would never promote them. Ever. Not after this.

"It seems to have a Federation warpsignature, Sir." replied Ms. Lavecchia. She seemed confused, which wasn't surprising: Katie had never heard of a Bird of Prey being modified to emit a warpsignature like that.

All of a sudden, she felt hope rise within her. Klingons and Federation. . . that meant that they might be able to apprehend the Gibraltar crew. She glanced at the Captain now, wondering what he would do.

"They're orbiting some sort of asteroid, Sir." came the voice of Ensign Kaleaon, who manned the science station. "It seems they're very interested in it, and. . ." He paused, "Sir, the Bird of Prey just cloaked. I think they moved off."

Captain McMillan stood up and looked at the ship's resident hologram, Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax. Having a hologram in Starfleet with a rank wasn't exactly unprecedented, but it was still pretty rare to see one of those on board a Federation starship. Katie had never seen one, at least. "Commander, is it possible to get closer to that asteroid, undetected?" McMillan asked.

Weatherwax immediately went to work. "Yes Sir," he said after a few moments, "but it would require that we draw power from various subsystems, including sensors. We might not be able to scan the interior of that asteroid, Sir."

McMillan nodded. "Understood," he said. "Do it."

For a fugitive, McMillan certainly was eager to explore. It seemed as if he and the rest of the Gibraltar crew still didn't realise that they were on the run from Starfleet and the Klingon empire. Katie shook her head at this. Didn't McMillan know that investigating that asteroid would only increase the chances of the Gibraltar being discovered? Ah well, she hoped they *would* be found. Then at least Katie would be able to go home. . .

The transporterbeam brought Captain RoBobby McMillan and his crew into the interiors of the asteroid. It was a strange place, to be certain: McMillan couldn't help but be surprised to see mushrooms and grass growing in a place like this. And there was water too! Perhaps this asteroid had once been a small planet of sorts, and it had held on to the water as it travelled through space.

Still, they weren't here to examine the local fauna. "This way," Ensign Johnson said, taking point, just as McMillan had ordered. The Gibraltar crew had a tendency *not* to stick together, which could lead to fatalities. McMillan tried to keep himself from thinking about the Admiral's death, which happened during one of the away missions he was in charge of. It was something he'd never forget, nor would he forgive himself. He glanced at the Admiral's Aide, who had beamed down too. He knew she was sad. . . but at the moment he couldn't do much about that. Perhaps when they had proven their innocence. . . perhaps then McMillan would be able to tell Zwilling how much he wished that the mission had gone differently. . .

"Come on!" Johnson's voice brought McMillan out of his train of thought. He followed her and the rest of the crew into the water, which at least caused him to focus completely on his surroundings. "This," he whispered, "is cold. . ."

Luckily they could get out of the water soon, since there was a slope, leading up to. . . "Captain, look!" LtCmdr. Weatherwax reported, pointing up. There, in a large section of the asteroid, was the Bird of Prey they had been looking for. 

Almost immediately after that, disruptorbolts flew around the crew, as they instinctively took cover. Before McMillan knew what the hell was going on, someone jumped in front of him. While the rest of his crew returned fire to deal with whomever was attacking them, his own personal assailant raised a bat'leth. . . and brought it down onto its intended target: Captain RoBobby McMillan.

His shouts of pain echoed through the air, as he fell down onto the ground. His leg was broken, that much was certain. But the fight wasn't over yet. This woman who struck him down now raised her Klingon Sword of Honour again, and would soon end his life. All he could do was look up at his would-be executioner.

He then blinked. "Kelly?" he asked. "Kelly Heron?"

This caused his attacker to stop. "How do you know my name?" she asked.

Before McMillan answered, he tried to sit up a bit more. It hurt, significantly, but he tried to ignore it. "Hold your fire!" he shouted as his crew was still defending themselves against the rain of disruptorbolts coming from further up the slope. "Hold your fire!"

The phaserfire and disruptorbolts stopped, at which point McMillan turned to the woman in Klingon armour again. "Kelly, what. . . what's happening?"

Heron frowned and brought her bat'leth closer to McMillan's neck. "I asked you a question, Captain. How do you know my name?"

Ensign Johnson immediately aimed her rifle at Heron. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she threatened Heron.

But McMillan held up his hand. "Don't fire." It wouldn't do much damage anyway: McMillan knew Kelly Heron. She was. . . special. "Kelly, you were once a member of my crew. We went on many missions together. Don't you remember?"

Heron shook her head, still threatening to kill McMillan with the sharp bat'leth. "Me, on a ship?" she laughed. "No thanks, shiplife is not for me."

McMillan closed his eyes, and sighed. He understood now. "Of course." he said, opening his eyes again. "You're a timetraveller. You were last time we met. That means you are a version of yourself who hasn't met any of us yet." He smiled faintly. Last time Heron was on board the Gibraltar, she sabotaged their attempt to find the USS Caroline, by infecting the ship with tribbles. She had also apologised for breaking McMillan's leg. Now at least the Captain knew what she had meant by that. But while that was in the past for McMillan and the rest of the Gibraltar crew, it was something that still was to come for Kelly.

"How did you know I was with Starfleet temporal investigations?" Heron asked, releasing the grip on her bat'leth. She then looked up at her colleagues, standing up the slope. "Alright, stand down. It seems these people are our friends."

As McMillan stood up, leaning on a rock to avoid putting weight on his broken leg, Heron turned towards the Gibraltar crew again. "So what are you doing here, Captain?"

It was a long story, but McMillan tried to make it as short as possible. He told Heron about the destruction of the Klingon outpost, about the USS Gibraltar apparently being the culprits, about their escape from Starfleet, their status as fugitives, and about how they wanted to prove their innocence. He also told her about their suspicion that it was their clones who were behind this.

"Clones." Heron repeated. "I hate clones." McMillan smiled at this, but Heron continued. "Wait a second, Gibraltar you say? We destroyed a ship called the Gibraltar a while ago, along with two other Starfleet ships guarding a cloning facility. The Ohiom and the Pico were the names of those ships, I believe."

McMillan's smile faded. "You. . . you destroyed clone ships?" Only then did the rest of the news sink in. "Did you just say. . . the Ohiom and the Pico?"

"Sir, the Ohiom is commanded by Captain Estaban." said Johnson quickly. "It's a Galaxy class, and shouldn't be anywhere near here. The Pico's an Intrepid class, like the Gibraltar. But they shouldn't be in this area of space either."

 

McMillan bit his lip. "So they're clones too?" It was hard to believe. Apparently the Gibraltar crew hadn't been the only ones who were cloned. "Kelly, can you point us to the location of the destroyed cloning facility?"

Heron smiled. "I can do more than that. I can give you all the sensor readings we made, along with some personal cloaking devices and more things that go boom."

Despite the situation, McMillan smiled for a second. This was definitely Kelly Heron. "Any help you can offer, would be appreciated."

Once the crew got back on board the Gibraltar, McMillan sat down in his chair. Sure, his leg was still broken, and would need to be healed soon, but his presence was needed at the Bridge now. "Helm," he said, "lay in a course to the coordinates Kelly gave us." It was a shame Kelly and her Bird of Prey couldn't come along. . . but they had other things to do. And who knew, they might run into her again, soon.

But for now, they needed to thwart whatever plan it was that the clones had created. It wasn't just their good name that was on the line. . . it was the security of the entire Federation.

With this in mind, McMillan leaned back into his chair. Yes, they were fugitives, but at least fugitives with a mission. A very important mission. One that they would complete, no matter what the cost.

"Engage."

Episode 52: "It's one small trap for man..."

Being a fugitive wasn't easy: the crew of the Gibraltar were starting to see that now. Hunted by the Klingon empire *and* Starfleet, there were very little safe havens to hide, restock and repair. Luckily, they still had some friends: Tana Dos for instance, a member of the Bajoran militia. He was a close personal friend of Captain McMillan, as he had known the Captain's father.

 

McMillan smiled as he saw his old friend again. It had been too long. "Welcome on board, Dos," he said, giving the older man a friendly tap on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again."

"Same here, RoB." Tana answered. "And it looks like you've got yourself in a bit of a bind?"

"I guess you could say that." McMillan said with a nod. "Both Starfleet and the Klingon empire believe that we've attacked a Klingon outpost of the House of Kar'Tog. We need to prove our innocence before they catch up with us."

Tana smiled faintly. "Then I might have some information you could use."

A little over an hour later, Captain McMillan, Mr. Tana, Commander Braveheart, Science Officer Bixby, Lieutenant Commander Weatherwax, Lieutenant Desade, Ensigns Debbydo and Johnson, and chief petty officer Thunderstorm beamed down at an abandoned lunar complex. McMillan immediately noticed an atmospheric shield over the base, which kept the vacuum of space out, and the precious atmosphere in. That would make it much easier to walk around and have a look around.

Tana had told the crew of the Gibraltar that he had remotely picked up some sensor readings, coming from this place. Someone had used the base's incredibly powerful sensors to scan one of the new ships of the House of Kar'Tog, and it seemed that this ship was an upgrade of the already impressive Negh'var class. It looked as if the house of Kar'Tog was preparing for war.

But that hadn't been the full reason why McMillan had ordered Lieutenant Desade to plot a course here. After all, if those sensors had been this powerful, they might have recorded the exact chain of events that lead to the destruction of that Klingon outpost. Perhaps if they could prove that it wasn't really the Gibraltar that attacked it, then Starfleet would accept them back.

Now though, they had to find the sensors first. "Let's have a look around." McMillan ordered. "But stay together." He didn't want a repeat of last time, when Admiral Delacroix had been killed on a supposedly abandoned ship.

"You know Rob, I've got a bad feeling about this," Tana said from behind him. McMillan nodded at this: he too didn't like it. But perhaps their luck was changing, and this was just as it seemed to be: an abandoned base with an extremely sensitive sensor array.

"Captain, look at this," Lieutenant Commander Weatherwax, the crew's resident hologram, spoke up. "There are several airlocks here, as well as an elevator down." He tried one of the doors, but to no avail. "Seems they're stuck. . . the electronics are failing."

"I don't suppose we can blast our way through?" Ensign Johnson asked. She was always a bit too violent for McMillan's taste, but it had served them in the past. Johnson seemed to understand the look on McMillan's face, though. "Alright, I'll just shoot the locking mechanism. That should open it up."

The rest of the crew stood back, when Ensign Johnson aimed her rifle. She pressed the firing button. . . but nothing happened. Quickly, she checked her rifle: it wasn't functioning. "Captain?" she asked, a look of horror on her face. This was all too familiar.

Science Officer Bixby quickly checked her tricorder, before that too, lost power. "An energy dampening field, Captain." she reported.

McMillan cursed under his breath. "Just like last time." he said out loud. He wasn't going to stick around to find out what kind of terror would await them now though. "McMillan to Gibraltar, emergency beamout, now."

But there was no response. The dampening field was blocking communications with the ship too. "Looks like we'll need to find the dampening field generator and shut it down." McMillan said to his crew, only to add softly "again".

"This way Sir." Ensign Debbydo said, gesturing at the elevator. "I believe this leads down."

"There's nothing up here anyway." McMillan said with a gesture, which indicated that everyone should be standing on the elevator. "Let's go."

The first group got down alright, but the second, consisting of Weatherwax and Johnson, were stuck half-way. It seemed as if this elevator wasn't responding all that well to the dampening field either. "You two find another way around," McMillan ordered. "We'll see what we can find here."

It didn't take the two officers too long to rejoin the others. By then, the away team had already figured out that this was a storage chamber of some sorts. There were spacesuits hanging here, and another airlock door. . . which sadly didn't open. "There's nothing of interest here." Braveheart spoke up. "Perhaps we should go up one floor?"

The group walked towards the elevator. . . but it failed to operate. Whatever power it had, was now drained by the dampening field. There was no way out now: the crew was trapped down here.

This called for some creative thinking. Luckily, with an XO who had been Chief Science Officer before, and a hologram who was partnered to a trigger-happy Ensign, a plan was soon formed. "You see those spacesuits, Sir?" Weatherwax spoke up. "I suggest you all put them on. I'll try to interact with the power generator here, and shut it down." It proved to be impossible to just shut down the energy dampening field, but by shutting down all the power, the field would drop too. The only downside to that plan was that the air would escape, since the atmospheric shield would no longer work anymore. But then again, that was what the spacesuits were for.

Weatherwax started executing the plan, while the rest of the crew put on the unfamiliar spacesuits. "It smells like they haven't been used for a long time," McMillan said, trying to lighten up the situation a bit. Tana smiled at this. "It looks like you've learned how to deal with dangerous situations like these, much better." he told the Captain. "Your father would be proud."

McMillan wanted to answer, but Weatherwax interrupted by reporting that they were ready. "Alright," The Captain said, closing his helmet. "Let's do it."

As Weatherwax shut down the power, air started wheezing out of the chamber they were in. It only lasted for a few seconds, after which the entire crew started to hover in mid-air. Well, all but Weatherwax: he was a hologram, so he could just walk around. Around him, McMillan could hear complaints about zero-g training, and he himself had to admit that he didn't particularly enjoy the experience. Still, it was better than dying. "Alright, let's go." he said, floating his way towards the elevator shaft, and to freedom.

Once out of the lunar base, the crew was able to contact the Gibraltar. "Ensign Johnson," McMillan started, "Tell the Gibraltar to beam us back. . . and to beam the computer core of this facility up as well." If they couldn't get the sensor data one way, perhaps there was another way. "Energise."

Back on the Gibraltar, McMillan sat down in his chair. Today's mission was a success. . . luckily not a repeat of what happened last time. Still, encountering two dampening fields in just a couple of days, was more than a coincidence. Someone had left it here for them. But who? Perhaps they would know, once they had analysed the data from the base's computer core. Who knew what kind of useful data they could get from there...

Episode 51: "Drained"

Drained. That's how McMillan felt right now. It was ironic, since less than an hour ago it'd been the USS Gibraltar that was drained. Of power. Now that problem was solved, but at a terrible, terrible cost.

McMillan was sure he did the right thing, when following those Klingon ships. They needed answers, and the Klingon ships of the House of Kar'Tog had them. The Gibraltar crew – now fugitives, wanted by both Starfleet and the Klingon empire for a crime they were sure they didn't commit – needed to know what other revenge plans that Klingon House had. The best way of doing that, was by finding out where exactly these ships were going to, and what they were doing there.

Unfortunately, those ships were about as fast as the Gibraltar was. The only way to close in on them, was by going through an asteroid field. As before, McMillan was sure this was the only way. They needed to clear their names, their reputation. . . they needed to be exonerated. It was that simple.

But it wasn't. Within moments of entering the asteroid field, power started to be drained from the ship at an alarming rate. They came to a dead stop, and power was failing all over the ship. It was a trap, that much was obvious. No wonder the Klingons avoided the asteroid field. . .

There was no time to worry about this: they needed to do something before the Gibraltar would be without power at all. In one last attempt to find out what was going on, the crew found the source of this power dampening field: an abandoned ship in the middle of the asteroid field. It was too far away to get there by shuttle – and it would have its power drained too – so McMillan decided to beam over there. Once again, even as he stood at the transporterplatform, he was sure that this was the right decision.

Once they materialised on the abandoned ship though, the crew found out that it wasn't all that abandoned. There might not have been lifesigns, but the ship's automatic defence systems were still active. Luckily security was along to defend the other officers. This, McMillan knew, hadn't been the toughest challenge this crew had faced. They would succeed in their mission.

 

And for a while, it seemed as if they would. Even when automated robots started firing at the crew while they were in the dampening field generator room, McMillan never doubted that what they were doing was the right thing. That they would succeed. Pretty soon, he knew, they would have destroyed the generator, and they'd be able to beam back to the Gibraltar.

A large explosion shattered those dreams. The generator was destroyed alright, but the explosion had been an accident: an uncontrolled explosion as a result of automated defence mechanisms. It blew the crew off of their feet. There were some minor injuries, but one major one: Admiral Delacroix, the admiral who had been a 'guest' of the Gibraltar crew until they could prove their innocence, lay unmoving on the ground.

It was at that moment, when the single flat-line beep of the tricorder filled the halls, that McMillan's resolve started wavering. Admiral Delacroix was dead. Back on board the Gibraltar, it was confirmed: the Admiral, one of Starfleet's finest, had died in the explosion which had brought the Gibraltar's power back.

 

McMillan now stared out of the window, into space, as the torpedo with the Admiral's body in it was fired from the torpedobay. A burial in space, just like the Admiral would have wanted it. This was a sad day, that was for sure. A dark day. A day which would always be remembered as the day Admiral Delacroix gave his life in a mission he didn't want to be on, for a crew of fugitives.

McMillan sighed, and shook his head. The Admiral's death, he swore, would not be in vain. Where before he had been driven by the desire to right the wrongs that had been done upon his crew and himself, now his priorities changed. He would find out what was going on, so that Delacroix would not have died needlessly. His death would have a meaning.

If only they could find the Klingons now. . . or any other lead for that matter. . .

Episode 50: "Battleplans"

Captain McMillan looked around. How many crewmembers were usually on board a Bird of Prey? 40? 50? It sure looked like it. And now all those Klingons were laying dead at his feet. He and his crew killed them. In self defence, sure, but still! They were already fugitives: now the Klingon empire would consider them murderers as well?

Fighting Klingons

McMillan had killed before, of course. Sadly, it came with the position of Captain. Even more so when you were a fugitive Captain. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if this could have been prevented. All this unnecessary bloodshed. . .

Unnecessary bloodshed...

Still, they *had* helped save this Federation colony. Where there were no Starfleet ships nearby, there was the Gibraltar. They had responded to the distress call, mediated a truce with the Klingon Captain, and now the Klingons of the House of Kar'Tog had violated that truce, by attacking the colony on the ground. These Klingons wanted revenge, that much was obvious. The outpost and ship that the Gibraltar supposedly destroyed, was part of the House of Kar'Tog, and when McMillan and the Gibraltar crew fled, Starfleet couldn't hand anyone over to that House. They were understandably pissed. But that didn't mean they could just attack a colony like this.

Looking for information

The battle had been fierce. Luckily, the Gibraltar crew had received help from the colony's tactical and AAC divisions. They had been invaluable. Without them, it'd be the Gibraltar crew who would lay dead on the floor. 

AAC and Tactical helped out...

McMillan sighed again as he walked off of the battlefield. The Klingon Bird of Prey had been destroyed: a self destruct program had made sure of that, so that the Gibraltar crew couldn't get the information they wanted. It was sad, really. All this, for nothing. Well, almost nothing. The colonists were save. At least that was something.

The Klingon BoP, before it self-destructed.

Now, it was time for the crew to beam back to the Gibraltar. The Klingon fleet which had come here, couldn't have gone far. Perhaps they'd have more information. . .

We survived...

Episode 49: "Confrontation"

"Captain's Log, supplemental.

What a week! I don't know where to begin. . . though I figure I'd just start at the beginning. That was a week or two ago, when the USS Gibraltar was recalled to DS-19. We were told that we'd be temporarily removed from active duty. The crew reacted surprised, but I of course knew what was going on: I had a long talk with Admiral Delacroix before that already. It was, of course, the Klingons.

Apparently, they had some sort of evidence that the Gibraltar destroyed an outpost of the House of Kar'Tog. Preposterous, but they demanded the extradition of the entire Gibraltar crew. I managed to convince Admiral Delacroix that I would be the only one extradited. I was allowed to say goodbye to my crew. . . but when I did, I activated the Gibraltar's emergency transporterprogram. It beamed us – and sadly, Admiral Delacroix and his aide – back to the Gibraltar. . . and we managed to escape.

Every hour of every day since then, I keep wondering if I made the right decision. I mean, we're fugitives now. We've got no place to hide. The Federation considers us criminals, the Klingons consider us murderers. And we just happen to be right on the Federation – Klingon border. So, I decided that we'd need some help. I knew some folks in this area. . . people who might not be exactly model Federation citizens, but who at least owed me a favour. I figured it was time to collect those favours. So I took a shuttlecraft – taking the Gibraltar would have just scared those people off – and went off to find my contacts. I honestly thought that the rest of the Gibraltar crew would have an easy few days. . .

But I couldn't be more wrong. I'm currently warping back towards the Gibraltar, after I received a message from Commander Braveheart. Apparently, a Federation colony along the Klingon – Federation border sent out a distress call, saying that they were under attack by Klingon forces. Commander Braveheart did the only thing he could: he sent the Gibraltar there. Even though we're outlaws, Braveheart knew he couldn't let a Federation colony be attacked. I guess it's the Starfleet blood that runs through his veins. I probably would have done the same though.

When the Gibraltar arrived, they found a fleet of Klingon ships, of the House of Kar'Tog: the same house whose outpost was destroyed! Apparently they wanted revenge, and attacked the nearest Federation colony. Of course, the nearest Federation ship was lightyears away, so the Gibraltar was the only defence the colony had. The battle that followed was a fierce one, but the Gibraltar managed to disable one of the Klingon Bird of Preys. It crashlanded on the surface.

That wasn't the end of it though: the Klingon commander agreed to a cease fire. Perhaps it was a good thing I wasn't there: if I was, I doubt the Klingons would have agreed. But Braveheart is a good diplomat: he managed to talk the Klingons out of attacking more. And all it took was going over the available data of the attack. How simple could it be?

I'm nearly at the Gibraltar now. Sensors register the remaining three Klingon warships still in orbit. I wonder what they want. . . Well, I'm sure I'll find out soon.

Captain RoBobby McMillan, out. Computer, end log."