TFS Orville
5th Rapid Response Task Force
Draconis 427, Draconis Sector
December 12, 2367
The bustling command center of the TFS Orville hums with the energy of a ship readying itself for action. Just moments before the 5th Rapid Response Task Force exits hyperspace, Admiral Edouard Mercier strides into the room, his focus fixed on the holographic projection emanating from his wristwatch. Classified reports from Tau'ri Federation Military Command scroll before his eyes, their contents weighing heavily on his mind. He absently scratches his mustache as he reads, his thoughts interrupted only when he notices Captain Kelly Grayson standing at the holographic plotter, her long hazel hair neatly twisted into a bun. She is studying the fleet information with the same intensity he feels.
Edouard turns off his wrist projector, adjusts his jet-black hair, and approaches her with a quiet but commanding presence.
"Kelly, report," he says in his deep, lilting French accent, the words flowing effortlessly, though a trace of tension lingers beneath his calm exterior.
Captain Kelly Grayson doesn't look up from the plotter as she responds. "Admiral, all fighter squadrons are prepped and ready to scramble once we exit hyperspace." She taps a few buttons, zooming in on the planet below. "Engineering teams are standing by to beam down to the surface as soon as we confirm safe landing zones."
Edouard's face remains composed, though Kelly can still see a hint of lingering disbelief. Even after all these months, the promotion from Captain to Admiral still sits heavily on his shoulders. It's only been four years since he commanded the Orville, and now here he is, leading one of the Federation's most crucial task forces.
Kelly glances at him, smirking slightly. "Still getting used to it?" she teases, raising an eyebrow.
"Oui, oui, mon amour," Edouard sighs softly, rubbing his temples. "Why me, though?"
Kelly chuckles, giving him a playful nudge. "Don't worry, I ask myself the same thing sometimes." Her smile is full of warmth, but there's a shared understanding between them, the weight of responsibility pressing down equally on both their shoulders.
"How very considerate of you," Edouard quips, his lips curling into a wry smile.
Kelly's tone softens as she leans in closer. "Look, Ed. Admiral Halsey wouldn't have promoted you if you hadn't taken down the Drone fleet at Galaxy 112. You're here for a reason."
Her words hang in the air, reminding Edouard of the brutal conflict they faced in 2360 when the Tau'ri Federation colonies were being ravaged by the relentless Drone Warship; the same Drones that had once hunted the Destiny millennia ago. Federation intelligence had struggled to track the Drones' movements, but during that pivotal battle, Edouard had led the charge that crippled their advance, buying the Federation much-needed time.
Before Edouard can respond, an alarm klaxon blares throughout the ship, and the cool, calm voice of the Asgard A.I. echoes over the comm system. "General quarters, general quarters. We will be dropping out of hyperspace in one minute."
Kelly's expression shifts to one of focus. "Do we have any more intel on the planet?" she asks, turning back to the plotter.
Edouard nods as he taps a few commands, zooming in on the holographic image of Draconis 427. The cavern where the subspace tear had been detected comes into sharp focus. "The subspace tear is sixteen meters in diameter, located deep in the cavern system beneath the surface," he explains.
"My God," Kelly whispers, her eyes widening.
At that moment, Commander Gordon Malloy approaches, carrying more data from the surface team. "The tear has already expelled one human female and four humanoid males," he reports, his tone tinged with both curiosity and concern. The holographic display updates to show the scene in the cavern; four male Moclans lying lifeless on the ground, energy blast wounds visible on their bodies. The Marines, suited up in their sleek armor, approach the lone woman lying nearby and begin scanning her.
"Sir, she's alive," one of the Marines reports over the comms.
"Get her out of there. Egress from the cavern and have the doctor check her status."
"Yes, sir."
Commander Malloy taps a control on the plotter, pausing the video feed. He glances over at the Admiral and Kelly, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, I miss that guy. Best damn Special Operations leader I ever worked with."
Kelly raises an eyebrow. "You thought he was an ass."
"Yeah, well," Gordon shrugs. "That's still true. But I miss him."
Kelly rolls her eyes before refocusing on the task at hand. "Let's stay on topic. Who is the woman, and what do we know about the four humanoids?"
Malloy pulls up another holographic dossier, displaying a profile of the woman. "Her name is Lieutenant Commander Charlotte Burke. The four humanoid males are Moclans from her universe. Apparently, Moclus is a single-sex species."
"Single sex?" Commander John Lamar interjects from the adjacent console where he is running diagnostics on the hyperdrive. He shakes his head in disbelief. "That's a hell of a way to go extinct."
Kelly shoots him a glare. "Thanks for the insight, John." She pauses, something clicking in her mind. "Wait a minute... isn't there a Charlotte Burke that died 7 years ago?"
"Actually, she alive." Edouard corrected his ex wife. "Assigned to the Avalon on a Special Operations."
Malloy's eyes light up as he rapidly taps through the ship's personnel database. Moments later, he pulls up the profile of Gunnery Sergeant Charlotte Burke from the Avalon. "Well, well. Looks like we've got a hot doppelgänger situation here," he says, his grin widening as he displays both dossiers side by side. "Gunnery Sergeant Charlotte Burke, Tau'ri Federation Marine Corps. She's one badass woman. MOS 0317, attached to the TFS Avalon Special Operations Unit. And yeah, she's definitely a 10 on the galactic hotness scale."
Kelly gives him a sharp look. "Gordon, what would Laura say if she knew you were ranking women on a 'hotness scale'?"
"She knows," Malloy replies with a shrug, unbothered. "She thinks it's hilarious. She rates guys too."
Edouard raises an eyebrow, glancing at Gordon. "And what rating did she give me?"
Before Malloy can answer, Lamar cuts in, his tone urgent. "We're ten seconds to the egress point."
All eyes shift back to their respective stations. The joking atmosphere evaporates, replaced by the sharp, collective focus of a crew on the verge of action. The ship shudders as the *Orville* drops out of hyperspace, and in an instant, they are in the middle of the fleet. The starboard and port hangar bays extend from the *Orville*'s main body, the massive engine nacelles rising upwards as the hangar doors slide open. Sleek, silver *Viper* Mark X fighters launch in perfect synchronization from both hangar bays, forming a protective bubble around the task force. These 10th-generation fighters, designed specifically to outmaneuver Wraith darts in close combat, now swarm in precise formation, their pilots ready for whatever might emerge from the unknown.
With the fighters deployed, the *Orville*'s bow and stern extend, revealing the beam weapon arrays and point-defense systems. Every crew member moves with purpose, executing their duties with the precision drilled into them through years of service.
"All systems nominal," Commander Lamar reports from the engineering console. "Fleet is holding position. Fighters maintaining formation."
"Good," Admiral Mercier replies. His gaze sweeps the bridge, taking in the calm efficiency of his crew. "Prepare for the away mission. I want teams on the ground as soon as we confirm atmospheric stability."
Kelly steps up beside him, her expression resolute. "We'll find out what's happening down there, Ed. Whatever that tear is, we'll get answers."
Admiral Mercier nods, though deep inside, a knot of unease remains. The subspace tear on Draconis 427, the strange incursion of a parallel universe… there's something ominous about this mission. Something far greater than they've encountered before.
But for now, the only path is forward.
"Let's get to work," he says, his voice firm with determination.
As the *Orville* holds steady above Draconis 427, Admiral Mercier knows this mission will define not just the future of this planet, but possibly the fate of the Federation itself.
TFS Okinawa, Task Force 4
DRACONIS 427
2000 HOURS ZULU
DECEMBER 12. 2367
Charlie Burke sits rigidly in Colonel Ry'ac's office, trying to piece together the fragments of her confusion. Her mind is swimming with unanswered questions, and she can't help but feel like a puzzle piece that doesn't fit in this new universe. The sterile yet warm atmosphere of the office feels both familiar and foreign at the same time, with its Tau'ri Federation insignia prominently displayed on the wall.
As she stands, she notices the pictures lining the walls. She walks toward them, curious to make sense of her surroundings. A framed photograph catches her eye, showing a man in a dress uniform with a slightly crooked smile, his eyes brimming with humor. Beside him, a woman in a stunning wedding dress grins, her arm linked with his. The woman looks strikingly like General Carter, but there's something softer, more youthful about her.
Charlie leans closer, reading the caption below: "General Jack O'Neil and Samantha Carter - Wedding 2010."
Her brow furrows. Samantha Carter... wedding? She had been debriefed briefly about the Federation's history, but this—this was something else. Is General Carter related to this woman?
Her curiosity pulls her to the next photograph—a group shot. Her gaze is drawn to a man with brown hair and glasses, standing next to Carter in full uniform. There's something about him, his unassuming demeanor, and the way he holds himself that makes her smile despite the whirlwind of confusion around her. He's kind of cute, she thinks, quickly shaking her head at herself. Focus, Charlie, focus.
She moves to another framed image, depicting what looks like a much older Samantha Carter, now in her dress blues, standing tall as she's sworn in as President. The caption reads: "Samantha Carter, sworn in as President of the Tau'ri Alliance, 2016."
Her heart skips a beat. President? Alliance? What the hell is going on? The timelines were all wrong. Nothing made sense. Her fingers trace the glass of the frame, a growing list of questions piling up in her mind.
Her internal musings are abruptly interrupted by the soft swoosh of the office doors. Charlie spins on her heel, caught off guard. A tall, broad-shouldered man walks in, his dark skin and chiseled features imposing. He's dressed in a crisp Battle Dress Uniform, the Federation insignia gleaming on his chest. His powerful presence seems to fill the room, and for a moment, Charlie's gaze falters on his well-defined muscles before she mentally slaps herself. Focus, you're not dreaming!
The man smiles warmly, and his deep voice cuts through the tension in the room. "Hello, Ensign. My name is Colonel Ry'ac."
Charlie cocks an eyebrow at the unusual name. "Ry'ac? That's a strange name for a human," she says, almost more to herself than him.
Ry'ac chuckles, a sound that is both gentle and amused. "Oh no, I'm not human."
Her curiosity flares. "What are you, then?"
"I am Jaffa," Ry'ac replies smoothly, as though the answer should be self-evident. He walks over to a nearby replicator, ordering a Jaffa coffee. The machine hums for a moment before producing the drink, which he takes in hand. "But in due time, you'll learn, grasshopper."
Charlie blinks, recognizing the reference. "The Karate Kid?"
Ry'ac grins widely. "See? Our universes aren't so different after all." He takes a slow sip of his coffee, watching Charlie with a calm, assessing gaze. "General O'Neil is currently debriefing the President and the Joint Chiefs about the subspace rupture and… you."
The mention of her situation sends a wave of tension through her body. Ry'ac notices and waves his hand dismissively. "At ease, LT. Commander. You're not in any immediate danger. At least not here."
She stands a little straighter, though her mind is still racing. "Sir, I have a few questions I've been meaning to ask," she says, her voice a bit shakier than she'd like.
"Go ahead," Ry'ac says, taking another sip of his coffee as he leans casually against the desk.
"What's today's date?"
Ry'ac glances at her, surprised by the simplicity of the question. "It's December 12, 2367."
Charlie's head reels. 2367. That's… impossible. She glances back at the picture she had been studying moments ago—the one of Samantha Carter's swearing-in ceremony. Her fingers move to the black-and-white image of the woman in dress blues, her gaze lingering on the powerful figure. "This woman," Charlie says, pointing at the picture, "who is she?"
Ry'ac turns to glance at the photo, his expression softening slightly. "Ah, that's the first President of the Tau'ri Alliance, Samantha Carter. That photo was taken over 300 years before the formation of the Federation."
Charlie's heart skips a beat. Three hundred years ago? Her eyes dart to Ry'ac in disbelief. "But… that's impossible. General Carter looks exactly like her."
Ry'ac walks over to the window, tapping on it, causing a holographic projection to appear in mid-air. The image shows a much younger Ry'ac, standing next to an older man with a gold tattoo on his forehead and a baby cradled in his arms. "The woman you know as General Samantha Carter O'Neil is her great-great-great-granddaughter." His voice is filled with reverence.
Charlie moves to stand beside him, her eyes drawn to the stars outside. She can see the planet below them—Draconis 427, if she remembers correctly. The Hammond orbits the planet steadily, its engines glowing softly in the distance. She leans against the window, staring out into the vastness of space, her mind whirling. How did I get here?
"You know how I got here?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ry'ac sighs, shaking his head slightly. "I'm a soldier, not a bloody astrophysicist," he says with a faint smile. "But I can tell you this—what's the last thing you remember?"
Charlie's brow furrows as she tries to recall. Her mind feels cloudy, and the last thing she remembers clearly is her own universe—on a planet, overloading a weapon she designed and stolen by a traitorous admiral. Then… nothing. A flash of light, and suddenly, she was here. But how? Her thoughts are interrupted when a large hyperspace window opens in the distance, expelling several ships that immediately spread out in a triangular formation.
"Who are they?" she asks, pointing toward the ships.
Ry'ac steps closer to the window, following her gaze. "That," he says, gesturing to the massive oval-shaped ship emerging from the largest hyperspace window, "is the 5th Rapid Response Task Force. They're the Tau'ri Federation's first line of defense. And that," he says, indicating the massive ship in the center, "is the Orville."
Charlie stares, her mouth falling slightly open. "You've got to be shitting me."
Ry'ac chuckles. "I shit you not. That's really the name of the ship."
"Who's the commander?" Charlie asks, still trying to wrap her mind around this insane situation.
"Admiral Edouard Mercier," Ry'ac replies easily. "I was his SOA before my promotion."
Charlie's mind races. Everything feels so surreal, like she's stuck in some elaborate dream. But the more she sees, the more real it becomes. She turns to Ry'ac, her expression growing serious. "What will the Federation do to me?"
Ry'ac's face softens slightly. "I don't know," he admits. "But I do know this—the Federation will want to establish contact with your universe. They've learned their lesson about blindly jumping into other realities. The last time they sent a scout to another universe, they almost got their butts handed to them."
Charlie exhales slowly, trying to process the sheer magnitude of everything she's just learned. The Tau'ri Federation, this new universe, the subspace tear—all of it seems impossible, yet here she is, standing in the middle of it all.
As she watches the ships of the 5th Task Force maneuver into position, a thought strikes her: maybe this universe holds more than just answers to her past. Maybe, just maybe, it holds the key to her future.
