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.