Episode 57: "The Search for Sophie"

A clone. Ensign Sophie Johnson had been a clone. For the past few weeks, that clone had moved around freely amongst the Gibraltar crew, reprogramming Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax in the process, while gathering as much information as she could. All of that, without anyone noticing it.

It was a lot to take in for McMillan and his crew. Sure, they had gotten most of the ship's key systems back online again, after using spare parts of the cloned USS Gibraltar, but the fact that one of their own was still missing, had a devastating effect on morale. Especially on Mr. Weatherwax, who seemed more distracted than ever. McMillan knew that he and Johnson were close, but it would seem that they were closer than he had realised.

The second that all major systems had either been repaired, replaced or patched up, McMillan turned to Weatherwax. "We'll get her back." he told him. "But I need you to find out where she is, first."

When the Sophie-clone had been killed, Weatherwax had grabbed a device from the dead clone's arm. It was the same device Ensign Johnson wore all the time: some sort of 'omnitool', as she had called it. McMillan had determined that it functioned in a similar way as a tricorder, but Weatherwax knew much more about it than McMillan did. For the past few days, whenever he had some spare time, Weatherwax had been fiddling with that device.

"Yes Sir." Weatherwax answered. "I think I've got something, actually." He tapped in some commands on the console in the back of the Bridge, at which point data about a planet appeared on the small screen. "Ytira 3, Sir. According to the files on Sophie's omnitool, several messages were sent there, probably to inform the clone's boss of her progress."

McMillan nodded. "Alright. Good work, Lt.Cmdr." He turned to Lt. Desade, at the CONN. "Lieutenant. . . get us there, maximum warp."

Captain McMillan and his team beamed down on the planet surface. It was a calm, peaceful planet, and people were actually living here. Starfleet records never spoke of a population though... and science officer Verlaine quickly explained why. "Sir, as you know, after the autopsies we did on the clones, we found a specific signal emanating from the clones. Sort of an identification tag, if you will, so that whoever created it, knows which version of the clones they are." She paused, and held up her tricorder. "Sir, I'm reading the same kind of signal all around us, coming from the birds, the people... everywhere."

"You're saying. . ." McMillan started.

Ensign Kaori, the doctor who had joined the away team, nodded. "Yes Sir. According to our readings, everyone native to this planet, is a clone."

McMillan let out a soft sigh. "Alright. Let's proceed. . . but be careful." With so many clones around, it'd be difficult to free Ensign Johnson unnoticed.

Or not. "Sir, Sophie's omnitool points us directly to that cave there." Weatherwax said, pointing at the entrance to a cavern. McMillan grimaced: in holonovels, the evil genius' lair was often in a cave too.

The away team descended into the damp, dark and cold cavern. "It's chilly here, isn't it?" Commander Braveheart said, as he looked around.

"Only 4 degrees celcius, Sir." Said Ensign Kaori. "If Ensign Johnson has been here for five weeks already, then. . ."

But McMillan didn't want to hear it. "Let's not give up hope, folks. Keep on looking."

The away team did just that: going deeper and deeper into the cave. They passed interesting rock formations, that otherwise would have warranted a closer look. Nobody was focussed on exploration now though: the only goal they had, was to get their crewmember back.

 

 

It didn't take long for the away team to come to a rope, which they had to climb down. It was a good sign: it showed that someone had been here recently. They quickly continued, passing bat-like creatures and spiderwebs, after which they emerged into a large carved out hall, filled with all kinds of machinery.

"Sir, these must be the power generators." Ensign Debbydo stated. "I recommend we don't get hit by any of those energy discharges."

"There's something else going on." Commander Westland spoke up now, as she glanced more closely at the machinery. "I'm reading DNA readings. . . Sir, it's *our* DNA. This is another clone lab!"

"The main one, I suspect." Commander Braveheart said as he looked around. "No doubt the cloning process requires a lot of energy, and these generators give just that." He paused for a moment. "There's more though, but. . ."

At that moment, Captain McMillan walked up a set of stairs. "Ensign Johnson!" he exclaimed, as he saw the Ensign's motionless body laying on the floor. "Doctor Kaori, get up here immediately!"

Thankfully, Johnson wasn't dead. . . she'd just fallen unconscious. "Sir, this is odd," Kaori reported, "her symbiont is showing signs of rejection. We've got to get her to the Gibraltar as soon as possible."

McMillan nodded. "This is the Captain, calling the Gibraltar." he said, tapping his commbadge. "Beam us up please."

But alas, it wouldn't go that easily. =/\=Sorry Sir,=/\= came the response, =/\=But there's way too much interference. We can't seem to break through it.=/\=

"Captain. . ." McMillan turned around, only to see Ensign Johnson slowly waking up. "I knew you'd all come. The Creator underestimated you."

"Whoa, hold on, back up there." McMillan said, kneeling next to the Ensign. "The Creator?"

"He's the one who created all the clones, Sir." Johnson said in a soft voice. "He's also the one who captured me. Captain, he told me you were dead."

"He was close to being right, Ensign." McMillan said with a nod. "That's not for you to worry about now though. You get some rest, while we'll try to find a way out of here."

"No. . ." Johnson muttered. "I've got something to tell you. . . something important. . ."

McMillan glanced at Johnson, but then turned to Commander Braveheart. "Take a good look around, Commander. See if you can find the specific frequency of the interference these generators are sending out. If we get that frequency. . ."

"We can beam out of here." Braveheart finished. "Yes Sir."

 

As Braveheart and a small team moved out, McMillan turned to face Johnson again. "Now Ensign, take it easy. What did you want to tell me?"

"The Creator, Sir. . . he left." Johnson went on. "He's taken the cloned USS Pico, to attack DS19." She shuddered, probably from the cold, the injuries and the emotions. "Sir, the Station won't know what hit them."

McMillan bit his lip. "Thank you Ensign." he said, hoping that he wasn't showing a too severe reaction to this news. It was bad though. Very bad. If the Gibraltar couldn't stop the cloned Pico, then DS19 would be destroyed. "Now, you go and rest. . . we'll have you out of here in no time."

Captain McMillan quickly found Commander Braveheart. "Tell me you got a way out of here?" he asked.

"Weatherwax believes he's found the frequency Sir." Braveheart reported. "He's uploading it to the ship right now, with the help of Ensign Johnson's omnitool." The XO paused for a moment. "Sir, I've also done a scan of the lava flow that flows underneath this place. It's. . . well, it's not just lava, Sir. It seems to be the basic ingredients of the clones. This. . . Creator, of however he calls himself, couldn't have picked a better spot to created the clones. He's got the materials and the energy. We've got to shut this down, Sir."

McMillan nodded. "Alright. Once we beam up to the ship, we'll beam in some explosive devices, and bury this cave forever." He hoped that would be enough, but it was all they could do at the moment: they had a station to save, after all.

Less than half an hour later, explosive devices detonated in the cavern, destroying all the power generators. On board the Gibraltar, Ensign Johnson lay in Sickbay, with Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax at her side. On the Bridge, McMillan gave the only order he could give right now. "Helm. Set a course to DS19. Maximum warp." The Gibraltar was coming home.

Episode 56: "Betrayal"

At drift. Crippled. No hope of repair, without spare parts. That was, in a nutshell, the state the Gibraltar was in now. After the battle with the clone ship Ohiom, the Gibraltar had been mere shots away from being destroyed. Luckily they had managed to destroy the Ohiom before that could happen... but it had left them in a bad shape indeed.

Captain McMillan had never been as tired as he was now. There was no hope for rescue from Starfleet, since they still considered the Gibraltar crew to be fugitives. The Klingons were looking for them too, and wouldn't hesitate to destroy them. And add to that, the clones wouldn't be all that friendly either, since... well, they had just lost one of their ships at the hands of the Gibraltar crew.

But none of that troubled the good Captain as much as the fact that they weren't going anywhere. They were stuck here: the warpcore was damaged beyond repair, as were several other systems. The best that they could do right now, was use the thrusters. And that wouldn't get them very far.

The crew was feeling the effects of exhaustion too. They had been working around the clock to get whatever fix-able system, back online. Sadly, without the power provided by the warpcore, it'd be impossible to proceed any further.

Ensign Johnson and Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax did manage to think on their toes, though. "Sir, if we rig one of the shuttlecraft to provide power to some of the critical systems, we can at least temporarily bring those online."

McMillan nodded. That'd at least be something. "Do it."

Reconfiguring the shuttle's power generators to provide power to the Gibraltar wasn't the hardest part: making sure that the Gibraltar's power conduits held, was. But the crew managed to get it done. Before long, Ensign Kaleaon was one of the only people on the Bridge, looking at a lit-up console. "Sir, I'm initiating a long range scan." he commented. At least that way, they'd be able to see what was out there.

 

The results came back quickly, but something in it puzzled Kaleaon. "Sir," he said in a confused voice, "I'm detecting. . . confirmed Sir, it's a Federation warpsignature."

"Can you see which ship it is?" Braveheart asked.

"Affirmative Sir." came Kaleaon's response. "It's. . . it's ours, Sir! It's the USS Gibraltar."

Commander Braveheart turned to the Captain. "The clones."

"No doubt here to finish off what they started." said Kelly Heron, who had taken up position at OPS. "It's what I would do, if I were in their shoes."

"Ensign," McMillan spoke up again, "Any signs that they've detected us?"

"Negative Sir." Kaleaon answered. "They're just sitting there, orbiting a nearby planet. It's like they don't even know we're here."

"Probably because we're not emitting enough energy readings," Johnson suggested. "With us being shot up and all."

"Agreed." McMillan said, leaning back into his chair again. For a moment he relaxed ever so slightly, content that they wouldn't be blown up today. But then an idea started to form in his head. He turned to his XO, whose eyes were glistening with a thought too. "Are you thinking what I am thinking, Commander?"

Braveheart nodded. "It's a clone ship. Their Gibraltar is built exactly the same was as our Gibraltar. Which means. . ."

"Which means we can use parts of their ship as spare parts for ours." McMillan finished Braveheart's sentence. "If we can board their ship and take control of it, we should be able to do just that." He then looked at the rest of the crew. Some of them blinked, wondering what kind of a crazy idea this was, others grinned, knowing it was probably the only chance they had.

 

"If this is going to work, we'll be needing a small team." McMillan continued. "Kelly, you should definitely go: your combat experience will be useful. Johnson, Weatherwax, you two have to go as well." At Johnson's surprised look, McMillan continued. "You're the hazard team lead on board, are you not? And Weatherwax will be able to hack into the other Gibraltar's computer."

"I take it you'll be leading the away mission, Sir?" Braveheart asked.

McMillan nodded. "This is one mission I can't sit out. Besides, I need someone I can trust to help us out, if needed."

"Alright then Sir," Braveheart conceded. "But I'd like to state, for the record, that I object to this."

"I'll file an objection to Starfleet the moment we're cleared of those charges, Commander." McMillan said with a faint smile. "Now... Johnson, Weatherwax, Kelly... to the shuttlebay."

 

The trip to the cloned Gibraltar didn't take long. Luckily, Kelly had managed to use some of her knowledge to partially cloak the Flyer, so the clone crew wouldn't see it coming. It didn't take much of an effort to open the clone ship's shuttlebay doors either. Once the team of four was in, the hard part would really start.

As the team made their way to the Bridge, McMillan noticed two things. The first being that this ship wasn't as damaged as the Gibraltar was, and the second that they hadn't encountered anyone here just yet. Sure, the clone ships probably weren't populated by too many people, but still. . . they should have bumped into someone by now.

"I don't like this." McMillan said, as he stopped right outside of the Bridge. "This is way too easy. Where are the clones?"

But Johnson shook her head. "Relax Captain, perhaps they really just didn't see us coming." She gestured to the door that would lead to the Bridge: the ship's control center. "Shall we?"

McMillan nodded. "You and Weatherwax go through that door, while Kelly and myself will go via the conference room." He let out a soft sigh as he pulled out his rifle. "Here we go..." he said, knowing he'd probably have to shoot people who at least *looked* like the ones he'd been serving with for a long time already.

But there was no time for doubts now. This had to happen. He gestured at Kelly to take point, after which both of them stormed in, through the conference room, onto the Bridge. There, a surprise awaited them...

Ensign Sophie Johnson and Lt.Cmdr. Richardjrn Weatherwax aimed their weapons at McMillan and Kelly. "Surrender, Captain." said the clone of Commander Braveheart. "And you might be spared."

 

For a moment, McMillan thought he was dreaming. But no... this was very real. "Sophie?" he asked, looking at the Ensign. "Rich? What the hell is going on?"

 

"They're clones." murmured Kelly, who seemed to have a better grasp of the situation than McMillan did. "Damnit, I should have seen this coming."

"To be more precise," Johnson continued, "I am the clone. I reprogrammed the Weatherwax hologram to aid me in gathering information about you, Captain. You and your crew. And now that we know everything there is to know about you, we can replace you. Starfleet will never know."

McMillan shook his head. "You're a *clone*." he said, more forceful than he had intended. He felt betrayed. Used. Duped. In short, he felt like an idiot. "Since when? And where is the real Ensign Johnson?"

The Braveheart clone stepped in. "All in good time, Captain. Suffice it to say, she's been undercover in your crew for a few weeks now."

"Since the mission to the destroyed cloning facility." McMillan finished, nodding to himself. "Of course. Johnson and Weatherwax were the only ones who could breath in the atmosphere. You must've switched with the real Johnson there."

"Indeed, Captain." the cloned Braveheart answered. "All per the Creator's instructions, of course. We just needed an opportunity to get her back, and you kindly gave us one. We even know the location of your ship now, thanks to you. I must say Captain, I'm a little disappointed. I thought you'd have given us much more of a fight, but you've handed us the Federation on a silver platter."

McMillan bit his lip as he looked at Kelly. She nodded in return. "No." McMillan then finally spoke up, feeling his confidence return. "You haven't won just yet."

"And what did you hope to do to stop us?" said the Johnson clone.

"Why, I'd ask for backup, of course." He nodded at Kelly, who said some Klingon words in her communication device. Immediately afterwards, the clone-ship lurched, as a Klingon Bird of Prey – Kelly's – decloaked and started attacking.

As McMillan dove for cover, Kelly started her rampage. McMillan knew Kelly: she was quite something. She had – or would, he never knew for sure with her - successfully defeated many enemies, including the Borg, the Klingons, and even time itself. A crew of clones would not stand in her way.

 

Still, as Kelly started slaying the various crewmembers with her bat'leth, the cloned Johnson tapped in some commands on her omnitool. It caused Weatherwax to suddenly fire at anything that moved, making it that more difficult for Kelly to do her job. . . and for McMillan to survive.

So, the Captain tapped his commbadge. "McMillan to Braveheart. Commander, we've been duped! Johnson's a clone, and Weatherwax has been reprogrammed. I want you to hack into his program and see if you can undo the damage!"

=/\=That,=/\= came Braveheart's voice on the comm, =/\=might take some time Sir. But we're on it. Hold on!=/\=

"Easier said than done!" McMillan said as he dove for cover again, Weatherwax's phaserbeams barely missing him. Kelly in the meantime, was down to her third dead clone, and was on her way to the fourth. Commander Braveheart – the clone, that was – was clearly no match for the fightingmachine that was Kelly, and he fell on the floor. Dead.

To hear Braveheart's voice while his clone was laying dead on the floor, was definitely one of the oddest things McMillan had ever experienced. Aside from being fired upon by a hologram that was supposed to be a member of his crew, of course. =/\=Sir, initiating reboot of Weatherwax's program... now!=/\=

The hologram froze for a moment, and then looked around. "Wait a second," he said as he turned to McMillan. "Captain? What's happening?"

"Thank god." McMillan responded as Kelly and the Debbydo clone were locked in mortal combat. "Weatherwax, you're on the clone ship of the Gibraltar. I need you to hack into the computer and release anaestezine gas throughout the ship."

Weatherwax paused for a moment. "How can I be sure you're not a clone of the Captain?"

McMillan shook his head in frustration. "When we're done here, you can scan me all you want. Right now, we need to seize control of this ship, you understand?"

The hologram didn't immediately go to work. Instead, he thought this through, but then thankfully nodded. "This will only take five seconds."

Five long seconds later, McMillan's tricorder showed that all remaining clones on board had been knocked unconscious by the gas. "Thank you, Commander." he said with a sigh, as he turned to Kelly, who had just finished beating the crap out of the Debbydo clone. "That was fun," she said with a smile on her face. McMillan shivered: he knew she actually meant it too.

"Sophie!" Weatherwax suddenly shouted, as the hologram ran towards the lifeless body of the clone on the floor. "Sophie. . . no!"

"She's a clone." McMillan answered. "She's infiltrated our ship and reprogrammed you." He paused, and put a hand on Weatherwax's shoulder. "We'll find her, Rich. I promise you that."

First though, they needed to get their ship operational again. At least with this clone ship under their control, they'd have the necessary spare parts. "McMillan to Braveheart," McMillan said as he tapped his commbadge, "Ship is secured, mission is a success. Have Engineering stand by: we'll be bringing lots and lots of spare parts your way."

As the clone ship started moving to the location of the original Gibraltar, McMillan silently hoped that the repairs wouldn't take too long... they had to save Ensign Johnson, and stop these clones once and for all...

To be continued...

Episode 55: "Facing a Friend"

Never in his life had Captain RoBobby McMillan thought he'd have to lead the Gibraltar into a fight against a Federation starship. Yet now he was doing that exact same thing. "Red alert," he ordered, as the image of a Galaxy class starship appeared on screen. It had been following for some time now, and had finally caught up with them. "Raise shields, ready weapons."

Ensign Zwilling, who had taken over helm, seemed nervous. McMillan couldn't blame her. Unlike the rest of the crew, she wasn't here by choice. In fact, the USS Ohiom – the starship out there – might be her only hope away from this fugitive crew.

The problem though, was that McMillan didn't know if the ship they were facing was the *real* Ohiom. Kelly had said it a while back: the Gibraltar wasn't the only cloned starship. The USS Pico and the USS Ohiom had been cloned too. So the ship out there could be the real USS Ohiom, on the lookout for the Gibraltar, or they could be clones. There was no way to tell.

"Sir, we are being hailed," said Ensign Debbydo, who had taken up position at the Engineering console for now. "It's the USS Ohiom. . . Captain Esteban would like to have a word with you."

 

McMillan nodded, at which point Esteban's voice echoed through the Bridge. =/\=Captain McMillan, you and your crew are under arrest. You will lower your shields and power down your weapons.=/\=

McMillan smiled ever so faintly. "I'm sorry Captain, but we can't do that. We still have to prove our innocence." He paused for a moment. "Our clones destroyed the outpost. And we have reason to believe more Starfleet officers have been cloned."

But Esteban didn't seem to be in for a discussion. =/\=You will power down your weapons, Captain McMillan. Once we're back in Federation space, we can discuss this more thoroughly. But right now I have orders to take the Gibraltar in.=/\=

Captain McMillan glanced around the Bridge, looking at his crew. Esteban sounded like the real deal. . . but then again, a clone would sound like the 'real deal' too. No, they couldn't risk it. "I can't abide to your orders, Captain." he finally responded. "I'm sorry, but there's too much at stake."

=/\=Then you leave me no choice.=/\= Esteban commented. McMillan knew what was coming next. Before long, the Gibraltar shook violently, as the Ohiom fired its weapons.

"Return fire." McMillan ordered, knowing full well that he was telling his people to fire at what could be another Federation vessel. "Target their weapons."

The fight was not going to last long, that much was certain. The Gibraltar was hopelessly outclassed. While they definitely had the advantage of manoeuvrability, their shields and weapons just weren't made to endure a fight like this. Thankfully there was the Gibraltar's armour, which held on while most of the shields had already failed. But that too wouldn't hold out forever: a point proven when Ensign Johnson shouted out that most systems were offline, weapons and shields were out and several key-systems were badly damaged.

 

Just when McMillan wanted to give orders for a new set of manoeuvres, he found himself – and his entire bridge crew – transported to somewhere else. Before he knew it, they were no longer on board the Gibraltar. . . but in the shuttlebay of the USS Ohiom. Facing them was Captain Esteban with a couple of security officers.

It didn't take the crew long to figure out that this was not the real Captain Esteban. First of all, she talked about the Galaxy class as having only 200 crewmembers. Second, her attitude – and that of her security staff – was way wrong. One of them even stunned Ensign Johnson, without provocation. Well, perhaps with *some* provocation, but still. . .

No, Esteban was a clone. This was the fake Ohiom, that was certain. Esteban even admitted it, when she didn't have to keep up appearances anymore. "You have become quite the nuisance, Captain." she stated. "You and the Gibraltar crew. I'm afraid the Creator won't tolerate this anymore. So enjoy whatever days you have left. Now if you'll excuse me, the Creator wishes me to destroy starbase 24." With that, she and the security team walked out, locking the shuttlebay door behind her. The Gibraltar crew was trapped.

"Alright," McMillan said quickly, looking around. "Options?"

Before anyone could answer, the shuttlebay's side door opened, and in walked. . . "Kelly?" If McMillan sounded surprised, it was because he was. He had never expected Kelly to walk in, but then again. . . Kelly was like the spanish inquisition. Nobody ever expected her.

After easily dealing with the guards outside the door, Kelly turned to the Gibraltar crew, handing one of the phaser rifles over to Ensign Johnson. "I portrayed as one of the Ohiom's crewmembers." she explained. "And then I heard you were in some trouble. . . so I thought I could help out."

"We're sure glad to see you, Kelly." Commander Braveheart commented, saying the exact same thing that everyone was thinking. "So what do we do now?"

"Now we get out of here." McMillan said quickly. "But not before we destroy this ship." There were a few surprised looks at the faces of his crew, but they did all understand. This ship could not be allowed to exist for much longer. The lives of everyone at Starbase 24 were at stake.

 

What followed was a shooting battle, running through the corridors while taking out the crewmembers of this fake starfleet vessel who tried to stop them. Finally, the Gibraltar crew made it to Engineering. "See if you can overload the warpcore." McMillan ordered Ensign Convair and Lt.Cmdr. Weatherwax. "Once we did that, we'll beam back to the Gibraltar."

"Won't the crew of the Ohiom be able to stop the overload?" Ensign Debbydo asked. She had a good point, but McMillan shook his head. "Not if we time it right. Now let's get to work."

 

Apparently though, word of their escape had reached 'Esteban', who responded by sending security teams to Engineering. Kelly and Ensign Johnson did what they could to hold off their attackers, but it was clear that even they wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer. Luckily, they wouldn't need to.

"All done!" Weatherwax shouted. "I've accessed the Ohiom's transporters and I'm beaming us back!"

Moments later, on the Gibraltar, the crew watched as the USS Ohiom – or well, the clone-ship – was destroyed in a ball of fire. The shockwave did some more damage to the Gibraltar, but that was insignificant compared to the damage already dealt: most of the major systems were offline, and some were so damaged that they needed to be replaced. There was just one problem: there wasn't a friendly starbase nearby...

To be continued...

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. . .