TFS HAMMOND
DRACONIS 427, DRACONIAN SECTOR
DECEMBER 18, 2367
0800 HOURS ZULU
Gunnery Sergeant Charlotte Burke stepped off the transporter pad, the familiar hum of the Hammond's systems vibrating beneath her boots. She took a deep breath, the scent of recycled air somehow comforting in its consistency. The transporter chief, a young petty officer, gave her a nod of acknowledgment as he secured the pad's operations.
"Good job, Petty Officer. Thank you," Charlotte said with a brief smile.
The petty officer nodded in response, his posture straightening slightly under her gaze. "Welcome aboard, Sergeant Burke."
Charlotte walked briskly through the familiar corridors of the Hammond, her thoughts racing ahead of her. She was on her way to General Samantha Carter's office, where she knew her doppelgänger, Charly Burke, and Ry'ac would be waiting. It had been a long and emotional day—one she wasn't entirely prepared for. Meeting her double from another universe, discovering the horrifying experiments Cerberus had performed on her husband... it had taken everything in her not to break down completely.
As she approached the door to the General's office, she squared her shoulders, forcing herself to focus. There was still so much to do, and she couldn't afford to let her emotions cloud her judgment. Not now.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Charlotte immediately spotted Charly standing next to Ry'ac. The Jaffa warrior was as stoic as ever, but there was a certain softness in his expression when he glanced at Charly—a warmth that hadn't been there before.
Charlotte hesitated for a moment, taking in the scene. There was something different about Charly. A soft glow radiated from her, not literally but in her demeanor, her energy. Charly's face lit up when her eyes met Ry'ac's, and Charlotte's heart sank with sudden realization. Oh my god, she made love to him.
Charlotte quickly pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. She approached General Carter, her composure slipping just enough for the General to notice.
"Good morning," Charlotte said as she came to a stop in front of the desk, trying to steady her voice.
Samantha Carter, ever the observant leader, immediately noticed the traces of sadness and exhaustion etched into Charlotte's face. Her brow furrowed with concern.
"What is it, Sergeant?" Samantha asked gently, her voice filled with genuine care.
Without a word, Charlotte handed the data crystal to the General. Her hands trembled slightly as she offered it. "Take a look at this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Cerberus took him."
"What's Cerberus?" Charly asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity.
Samantha Carter's expression darkened slightly. "Cerberus is a think tank. They have lobbyists in the Federation parliament, but they operate in the shadows. The Ministry of Intelligence has an operative inside the organization, but their activities have been difficult to trace." She inserted the data crystal into the holographic interface on her desk, activating the recording.
As the video began to play, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Charlotte and Charly watched as the horrifying scene unfolded on the holo-display. Anakin John Sheppard, Charlotte's husband, lay unconscious on a cold surgical table, surrounded by Cerberus operatives. His body was still, almost lifeless, as a needle was inserted into his arm. The sight of him in that condition made Charlotte's stomach churn.
Samantha's eyes widened, her expression quickly shifting to one of shock and horror. "Oh my god," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She watched the entire experiment unfold, the cold, clinical detachment of the Cerberus scientists as they manipulated Anakin's body like a mere specimen.
"Why... why are they doing this?" Charly asked, her voice trembling as she turned away from the holo-projection.
"I don't know," Samantha said, her voice strained. She wiped a tear from her cheek and took a deep breath, steeling herself. "But I'm going to send a copy of this to President Emin Emmagan. Cerberus has crossed a line."
President Emin Emmagan was a direct descendant of Teyla Emmagan and an adopted son the second President of the Tau'ri Federation, John Sheppard. She had a close familial connection to Charlotte's late husband, Anakin John Sheppard, which made this situation all the more personal.
"I just… I don't understand," Charlotte said, her voice cracking. "Why him? Why take him?"
Before Samantha could respond, Charly stepped forward, embracing her doppelgänger in a tight, comforting hug. Charlotte stiffened for a moment, but then she let herself relax into the embrace, her tears flowing freely as Charly held her.
"We'll figure this out," Charly whispered. "I promise."
After a long moment, Charlotte pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "What's the meeting about?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.
Samantha glanced at Charly, then back at Charlotte. "It's about Charly."
"What about Charly?" Charlotte's brow furrowed as she looked at her counterpart with concern. "Has entropic cascade failure started?"
"No," Charly said with a smile, her mood suddenly lifting. "Even better. I'm immune to the effects."
Charlotte blinked, stunned. "You're immune?" Her voice rose in excitement. "That's… that's amazing!"
Without thinking, Charlotte jumped up, grabbing Charly's hands and bouncing on her toes like a schoolgirl. Charly laughed and joined in the spontaneous moment of joy. They twirled together for a few seconds, letting the excitement wash over them—until they remembered where they were.
Charly cleared her throat, taking a step back. "I'm able to cross between universes with no problem," she explained, her smile still wide. "No entropic cascade failure. No side effects. Nothing."
"And what's the problem, then?" Charlotte asked, her excitement tempered by a hint of caution.
Charly's smile faded, and she looked down for a moment before speaking again. "The doctor said… the dysonium that fused with my Ancient gene will prolong my life. I'm going to live for a thousand years or more."
"That's… that's incredible," Charlotte said, though her voice lacked the same excitement it had moments ago.
Charly nodded slowly. "Incredible, sure. But it also means I'll outlive all of you. Especially Ry'ac."
The mention of Ry'ac brought a new weight to the room. The Jaffa warrior had been silent throughout the conversation, but now he stepped forward, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "There is another way."
Charly turned to him, her expression curious but skeptical. "What do you mean?"
Ry'ac's gaze softened as he looked at her. "The Tok'ra can implant me with one of their symbiotes. I would live a thousand years by your side."
Charly's eyes widened in surprise, and she stared at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. "You'd really do that? For me?"
Ry'ac nodded without hesitation. "I would. But," he added with a small smile, "I'm not sure how you feel about sharing your bed with a snake."
Charly let out a laugh, shaking her head. "I'm not sharing my bed with a snake in your head, Ry'ac."
The light banter brought a momentary relief to the heavy atmosphere, but Samantha Carter quickly brought them back to the reality of the situation with a polite, fake cough.
"As much as I enjoy this… conversation," she said with a hint of amusement, "we have more pressing matters to attend to. The Corps of Engineers will arrive in a few hours to construct a supergate over Draconis. That gate will give us a direct route to mobilize larger fleets, but it also means Cerberus will have a vested interest in the region. We need to be ready for anything."
Charly and Charlotte both nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in once again. The Cerberus threat loomed large, and with the supergate's construction, they were sure to make a move. Time was running out, and they needed a plan.
Just then, the intercom buzzed, and Admiral Mercier's voice came through, clear and authoritative. "General Carter, all senior officers are assembled in the conference room and awaiting your arrival."
Samantha took a deep breath and turned to the group. "Let's head to the briefing. We have a lot to discuss."
Charlotte exchanged one last glance with Charly, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever the future held—whether it was a thousand years of life, a looming war with Cerberus, or the mystery of Anakin's fate—they would face it together.
As they left the office, walking side by side, Charlotte couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. They might not have all the answers yet, but they had each other. And for now, that was enough.
CERBERUS MILITARY INSTALLATION
UNKNOWN LOCATION, UNKNOWN GALAXY
The dimly lit room hums with the quiet activity of machinery and the steady glow of holographic projections. Sitting at the center of this secluded space, an illusive figure watches intently. His sharp eyes scan the holographic display in front of him—a fleet of Tau'ri Federation ships slowly orbiting the barren desert planet of Draconis 427. The faint blue light of the projection reflects off his face, casting shadows across his sharp features. He exhales a stream of smoke from his cigar, the ember flaring briefly in the dark room.
He doesn't speak, doesn't need to. His thoughts are focused, calculating, always several steps ahead. The Tau'ri Federation is playing its hand, and the Illusive Man is quietly observing, waiting for the right moment to intervene.
The door behind him hisses open, and a woman strides into the room. She moves with confidence of someone who's long grown accustomed to being in control. Her long black hair falls to her shoulders, framing her chiseled face and piercing blue eyes. Her Cerberus uniform clings to her toned body, every inch a testament to her physical conditioning. She stops next to the Illusive Man, standing straight and unwavering, her gaze locked on the holographic display of Federation ships.
"Our informant says they're waiting for the Corps of Engineers," she reports, her voice sharp but calm. "They're preparing to construct a supergate."
The Illusive Man takes another slow drag from his cigar, the ember brightening in the low light. He exhales smoke, pausing only for a moment before speaking, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "Another one? And where exactly is this going, Miranda?"
"I don't know yet," Miranda Lawson replies. She steps forward, manipulating the hologram with a flick of her wrist. The image zooms in, focusing on a single Federation ship among the orbiting fleet. "But they're moving quickly. Too quickly."
He watches the hologram shift, the ship rotating slowly as tactical information is displayed around it. His gaze narrows, considering the strategic implications. The construction of a supergate could significantly shift the balance of power. Instantaneous travel across galaxies, reinforcement of colonies at a moment's notice—it was an advantage the Tau'ri Federation could exploit. But the Illusive Man never lets his thoughts betray him. He remains calm, composed, as he taps the ash from his cigar.
"What's the progress on Anakin John Sheppard?" His voice is low, almost casual, but there's a sharpness beneath the question.
Miranda doesn't flinch. She's used to his demands. "He's responding to stimuli," she says, her eyes flicking to the hologram as she adjusts the display again. "But even if we manage to revive him fully with his consciousness intact, he won't remember who he is. His memories, his identity—it's all gone. His body is functional, but the man is lost."
The Illusive Man leans back slightly in his chair, his eyes narrowing in thought. Anakin John Sheppard was an important asset, not just because of his past military service but because of what his resurrection could mean for Cerberus. A war hero from the Tau'ri Federation, brought back from the dead—if they could control him, guide him, he could be the perfect tool to undermine the Federation from within. But a tool with no memory of its purpose is useless.
"Continue the procedure," he orders, his voice carrying a note of finality. "If we can't use him directly, we'll find another way."
Miranda nods, her expression unreadable. She turns back to the hologram, shifting the display once more. The image changes, the orbiting Federation ships replaced by a different scene—a distant, far-flung galaxy where autonomous machines move in a grim, silent rhythm. The Berserker homeworld, a world of mechanical horrors. Endless rows of towering machines, tirelessly constructing more of their kind. Command ships bristling with weapons float in orbit, each one carrying a complement of a hundred attack drones.
Several Berserker drones suddenly break away from the planet, their movements swift and methodical. Within moments, they disappear into the blackness of space, leaving the mechanical world behind to continue its endless cycle of creation and destruction.
The Illusive Man's eyes follow the drones as they vanish from the display. "The Tau'ri Federation is wasting its time and resources," he says, his voice betraying no emotion. "Defending their outlying colonies, constructing supergates—none of it will matter when the Berserkers are ready to strike."
Miranda remains silent for a moment, watching the projection. The cold efficiency of the Berserkers is unsettling, even for her. She finally speaks, her voice thoughtful. "The Federation's Ministry of Defense has an abundance of warships, science vessels... They're expanding their fleet faster than we can track. Their shipyards must be producing at an unprecedented rate."
The Illusive Man lets out a quiet chuckle, though there's no humor in it. He knows the truth behind her words. The Tau'ri Federation's shipyards, scattered across the galaxy, were producing vessels faster than Cerberus could hope to match. For all of Cerberus' resources and influence, they were still playing catch-up. The Federation had the advantage of scale, and their constant defense against the Berserkers was only sharpening their tactical edge.
"It costs me billions of credits just to build one advanced ship," the Illusive Man says quietly, as if speaking to himself. "Every new ship to counter the Berserker threat is a calculated risk. We can't afford to make mistakes."
Miranda nods, her eyes still focused on the hologram. She knows the stakes. Cerberus may have influence, but it lacks the near-infinite resources of the Federation. Every move has to be precise, strategic. One misstep could cost them everything.
"We'll need to find a way to slow them down," Miranda says, her tone pragmatic. "The Federation is not on a war footing. If they complete this supergate."
The Illusive Man says nothing for a moment, his eyes fixed on the image of the Berserker homeworld. His mind is already calculating the next steps, weighing the variables. Finally, he speaks, his voice calm but decisive. "We won't let them complete it. Not without interference."
Miranda raises an eyebrow. "You have a plan?"
"I always have a plan." He leans forward, tapping the ash from his cigar once more. "We'll let the Federation continue their construction, but we'll ensure the Berserkers know exactly where to strike. Let them weaken each other. We can pick up the pieces afterward."
Miranda considers his words, nodding slightly. "I'll have our agents in place. We'll need to time it perfectly."
"See to it." The Illusive Man's voice is final, his attention shifting back to the holographic display. The wheels were already in motion. The Tau'ri Federation, the Berserkers, Cerberus—they were all pieces on the board, and he was the one pulling the strings.
As Miranda leaves the room, the Illusive Man takes another long drag from his cigar, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. His mind is already moving to the next step, the next move in the game. All he had to do was ensure they fell into place.
