Eagle Galaxy Stargate Command, Boeotia
December 21, 2367
The soft hum of the Normandy's engines faded as the ship settled on the tarmac of the Eagle Galaxy Stargate Command base. General Mal Tlaak, commander of the facility, stood waiting patiently in the cold night air. His slender frame was encased in a crisp grey tunic, which only enhanced his statuesque appearance against the landing pad's brilliant lights. Tlaak's skin, a smooth blend of muted greens and grays, glistened faintly in the crisp night. His large, oval eyes, devoid of nostrils, gave him an otherworldly look, yet they radiated sharp intelligence. His species, cold-blooded salamander-like beings native to the Eagle Galaxy, were unlike anything the arriving crew had encountered before.
The ramp of the Normandy descended with a low hiss as the hydraulics engaged, revealing four figures: Commander David Sheppard, Colonel Xi Yang, Ashley Williams, and Gunnery Sergeant Charlotte Burke Sheppard. Together, they walked down the ramp and stopped before General Tlaak, offering crisp salutes.
"At ease," Tlaak said, his voice soft yet commanding. "Give me a sitrep."
"Sir, the Reaper is destroyed," Commander Sheppard reported, his tone heavy with the weight of their recent mission.
"Nine hundred million lives lost," Colonel Xi Yang added, his voice quieter as he emphasized the staggering number.
Tlaak blinked slowly, absorbing the scale of the devastation. His large eyes blinked rapidly—a physical response typical of his species when processing difficult information.
"Is there no way we could have saved them?" he asked, his voice soft but hopeful, though it trembled slightly.
Ashley Williams shook her head. "No, sir. The infection spread too fast. We did everything we could, but we were too late."
"I see." Tlaak pressed his long fingers to his chin in contemplation, his unblinking gaze sweeping over the team. "Let's move to the command center. The Ministry of Defense must be briefed immediately."
As they made their way into the complex, officers—both human and alien—moved swiftly through the corridors, engrossed in their tasks. David Sheppard hadn't set foot in a base for years. After spending so much time aboard the Normandy, the rigid and familiar surroundings of command felt oddly foreign to him.
Beside him, Charlotte Burke Sheppard walked silently, her sharp blue eyes scanning her surroundings, taking in the details. Yet, a certain sadness hung in her gaze. She had seen too much, endured more than most. Her blonde hair, tied back tightly, framed a face marked by the battles she had fought—both on the field and within herself. Charlotte had always been more than a soldier. As a sniper, forensic pathologist, and strategist, she possessed an analytical mind capable of dissecting complex problems even amidst chaos.
Once inside the command center, they gathered around a large polished mahogany table. A holographic projection flickered to life above it, displaying side-by-side images of a Reaper and a Husk. The Reaper's dark, mechanical form dominated the projection, while the twisted, grotesque Husk stood as a grotesque reminder of the Reapers' horrific legacy.
"By the goddess..." General Tlaak muttered under his breath, staring at the hologram in disbelief.
Charlotte leaned forward, her voice steady as she began the briefing. "According to the data we recovered, Cerberus discovered the Reaper in a dig on Anhur 2. The excavation site is located about 3,500 kilometers from New Thebes, deep in a desert region."
Though her voice remained calm, there was an undeniable tension underneath, the weight of the mission pressing on her. "This Reaper has been dormant for millions of years. Deactivated by an Ancient—one known as General Opilio."
Tlaak tilted his head slightly, a curious gesture that indicated he was processing the information. "How did it reactivate?" he asked, his gaze shifting to Charlotte.
Charlotte's fingers tightened ever so slightly, her eyes flickering to David before she answered. "Cerberus extracted blood from my husband, David. His blood, tied to General Opilio's lineage, somehow reactivated the Reaper. According to our data, Opilio's bloodline was responsible for halting the Reaper harvest over 50,000 years ago."
A murmur swept through the room. One of the generals from the Supreme Defense Council leaned forward, his expression dark. "Your husband—he's the one Cerberus captured after the Berserkers destroyed the *Constantine*, correct?"
Charlotte's jaw clenched at the mention of the *Constantine*. She had been there that day. She had witnessed the destruction, the lives lost, and her husband taken right before her eyes.
"We'll get him back," David said softly, though his voice carried the weight of regret.
For years, Charlotte had sought revenge against the Berserkers, believing them responsible for David's capture. But now she knew—Cerberus had him, and they had been using his unique genetic code in their twisted experiments.
Colonel Xi Yang cut through the tense silence. "Do we know who's running Cerberus? Who's behind all of this?"
"All we've managed to gather," Ashley Williams said, "is that Cerberus operates as a conglomerate of corporations. They hide behind layers of dummy companies. The only name that surfaces is someone calling himself the Illusive Man."
The name hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Everyone had heard whispers of the Illusive Man, but no one truly knew who he was or what his ultimate goal might be.
Charlotte, ever focused, leaned forward again, determined to redirect their attention to the pressing threat. "We can deal with Cerberus later. Right now, we need to focus on the Reapers."
Her gaze intensified as she continued. "When I was scanning the Reaper before we destroyed it, I found a base code embedded deep within its programming. It's old—very old. And it's a directive, a clear order."
Tlaak straightened in his seat, eyes narrowing. "What kind of order?"
"To find and eliminate anyone carrying the ATA gene linked to General Opilio's lineage before the Harbinger arrives," Charlotte answered.
The room fell into a cold silence. The implications were terrifying. Cerberus wasn't just waking Reapers—they were preparing for something much worse.
At that moment, a holographic figure flickered into life above the table. President Emin Emmagan, the Tauri Federation's President, appeared, his expression grim.
"Apologies for being late," President Emin said, skimming over the reports. "What have I missed?"
The weight of the situation bore down on Charlotte. The Reaper, Cerberus, the threat to her husband—all of it suddenly felt overwhelming. She stood abruptly, the walls of the command center closing in around her.
"Sir, if you'll excuse me... I need some air," she said before turning and leaving the room.
The cool night air hit her as she stepped onto a secluded balcony overlooking the sprawling base below. The twin moons of Boeotia hung low in the sky, casting a soft, ethereal light over the landscape. She leaned against the railing, trying to center herself. She had always been strong, always capable of carrying the weight of her responsibilities. But this—the fate of galaxies resting on their shoulders—felt like too much.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe deeply, but her mind kept replaying the horrors she had witnessed. The destruction of the *Constantine*, the Reaper's directive to eliminate Opilio's bloodline, Cerberus's plans—it all weighed heavily on her.
The door to the balcony slid open behind her, and she didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"You alright?" David's voice was gentle, yet filled with concern.
She nodded but kept her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Just... thinking."
David stepped up beside her, leaning on the railing. For a moment, they stood in silence, staring out at the moonlit landscape together.
"We'll find him," David said quietly. "We'll find Anakin, and we'll stop Cerberus."
"I know." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "But it feels like they're always a step ahead. Like we're running out of time."
David was silent for a moment before he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small gold bar—a service commendation. He held it out to her.
"What's this?" she asked, confused.
David smiled softly. "What do you think it is, Lieutenant?" He placed the bar in her hand gently. "Take it. That's an order."
Charlotte looked down at the commendation, the weight of it both literal and symbolic. For years, she had turned down every promotion offered to her, unwilling to leave the front lines. But this time, something felt different. This time, the fight was personal.
Harper Industries
Manhattan, New York
December 21, 2367,
0600 (Local Eastern Standard Time)
Jack Harper stands at the window of his penthouse, watching sky cars zoom between the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan. The city glows in the first light of morning, the buildings casting long shadows over the streets below. The skyline, a blend of old and new architecture, bears his mark. This very building once belonged to Donald Anderson, a real estate mogul who owned several towers. Now, all of them belong to Harper—just like nearly every strategic asset on Earth worth controlling.
Turning away from the view, Harper strides to his desk. With a wave of his hand, the holographic display flickers to life, showing a series of financial charts and reports from his research facilities. Cerberus, the clandestine organization he built from the ground up, dominates the documents. Beneath the surface of Harper Industries lies the true engine of his power—Cerberus's secret scientific endeavors.
Billion-dollar revenues scroll across the display, but Harper frowns. It's not enough. Not when the Federation has rendered Earth's dollar practically worthless beyond the planet's atmosphere. The Tau'ri Federation, with its sprawling bureaucracy and rigid control, has made galactic currency revolve around their credits. They offer these credits freely, along with housing, food synthesizers, and other benefits, to anyone who enlists in their military or colonial ventures.
But Jack Harper refuses to play by the Federation's rules. He prefers to stay on Earth, where he can control the board without the restrictions of interplanetary laws. He runs a conglomerate of companies that fund Cerberus, which operates beyond the Federation's reach. Though sanctions prevent him from constructing warships or operating any military vessels, Harper doesn't need ships. He needs power, and Cerberus is the key.
He zooms in on reports from Anhur 2, a research base that has become a growing concern. Something is wrong, and the data is far from reassuring.
"Michelle," Harper calls.
A moment later, his secretary's holographic image appears. Michelle, a tall woman with smooth dark skin and straight black hair, regards him with calm professionalism.
"Yes, sir?"
Before Harper can respond, a flashing alert lights up his display. He taps the icon, and several news feeds appear. His worst fear is realized: Cerberus has been exposed. Footage shows Cerberus experimenting on a Federation Naval officer. The leaked holovids are graphic and shocking, broadcast across every major network on Earth—and likely beyond.
"How the hell did the media get these holovids?" Harper growls, his blue eyes narrowing as he leans toward the screen.
"I don't know, sir," Michelle says, tension clear in her voice.
Harper's jaw tightens. This is a catastrophic breach in Cerberus's operational security. If the Federation launches an investigation, they'll dig into every corner of his organization.
"Hold on," Harper says, bringing up another feed. His eyes narrow as he sees the headline:
**Breaking news: 900 million confirmed dead after an unknown enemy attack on New Thebes in the Eagle Galaxy.**
Harper freezes. New Thebes. The Reapers. The experiment on Anakin Sheppard was supposed to unlock dormant Reaper technology, a key to unimaginable power.
He silences the broadcast, his mind racing. Control is slipping from his grasp, and that is unacceptable.
"Michelle," Harper says, his voice cutting through the tension, "I want Anakin Sheppard moved immediately. Transfer him to our black site in Hades Gamma. No delays. Only our most trusted personnel."
Michelle hesitates. "Are you sure, sir? The Hades Gamma site is…"
"I don't care," Harper snaps. "Move him. The Federation can't find him there, and we can't afford to lose him. If we do, we lose our leverage with the Reaper."
Michelle nods, her hologram flickering as she begins making arrangements. Harper cuts the connection and sits back in his chair, staring at the darkened display.
The situation is spiraling out of control. Cerberus is supposed to be a shadow organization, shaping events from behind the scenes. But now, with the media exposing his experiments and the Reapers awakening, the balance of power is shifting dangerously. If Harper doesn't regain control, everything he's built will collapse.
His thoughts return to Anakin Sheppard. The man's bloodline, tied to the ancient general Opilio, had been the key to activating the Reaper. Cerberus captured him for that very reason, using his genetic material to bring the Reaper back to life. But Harper hadn't anticipated the consequences—Cerberus pushed too far, too fast. Now, with the Federation closing in and the Reapers stirring, time is running out.
Taking a deep breath, Harper rises from his chair and walks back to the window. He watches the sky cars again, their lights cutting through the morning mist. The city moves on, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond Earth's atmosphere. Unaware of the war that could soon sweep across the galaxy.
For Harper, this isn't a war of survival. It's a war for power, and he intends to win it, at any cost.
With a flick of his wrist, he brings up another display showing a list of Cerberus-controlled assets. Research facilities, manufacturing plants, black ops teams—there are still moves to be made. The Reapers may be awakening, but Harper knows one thing: with the right tools, he can control them. Chaos may spread across the galaxy, but if Cerberus holds the reins, Harper will emerge with more power than any Federation government could ever wield.
The question is no longer whether Harper will survive. It's how far he's willing to go—and who will be left standing when the dust settles.
His eyes narrow as he stares out over Manhattan. The world below is oblivious to the game being played, to the stakes that could reshape the galaxy. And that's exactly how Harper likes it. Power is best wielded by those willing to do whatever it takes. Jack Harper has never been afraid to play the long game.
He takes a sip of coffee, already planning his next move. There's always another step, another piece to position, another enemy to neutralize.
That's when the Berserkers come in.
A cold dread settles in Harper's chest. The Berserkers—autonomous, deadly drones from an unknown galaxy—are a wild card, a force of destruction beyond even the Reapers. Unlike the Reapers, whom Harper hopes to control through Cerberus's research, the Berserkers are uncontrollable, sent by a race no one has yet encountered. They appeared out of nowhere, decimating fleets, colonies, even entire planets without mercy.
And Harper has been helping them.
He walks back to the window, watching the sky cars with detached coldness. No one in the Federation Navy or the Tau'ri government knows the truth. The public believes the Berserkers' attacks are random, a menace striking at will. But Harper has been guiding them, feeding them targets with precision. Over the years, he's placed tracking beacons aboard several Federation Navy ships, each one an invisible signal for the Berserkers to follow.
Why? Because Harper knows chaos creates opportunity. The Berserkers' destruction causes panic, fear, and instability—elements that weaken the Federation's control over the galaxy. And in that chaos, Cerberus thrives.
Harper has never cared about the Federation's rules or bureaucracy. His shadow empire operates outside the Federation's reach. But the Berserkers are part of something bigger, a mystery Harper hasn't yet unraveled. Their creators are still unknown, watching from the darkness of space, and Harper wants to be prepared.
His fingers tap lightly on the glass. He's been careful, planting beacons on ships in distant regions, vessels the Federation won't immediately miss. But now, with the Reapers stirring and the Federation closing in, Harper knows he's playing with fire.
The thought excites him. For Harper, power isn't about control—it's about manipulating chaos to his advantage.
He returns to his desk, tapping the holographic display to check the Berserkers' latest tracking data. One of his beacons has gone dark. The Berserkers have found their next target:
A Federation colony on Halstead in the Owl Head Star System, located in the Ichnaea Galaxy, far beyond Stargate Command's reach.
Harper smiles.
Cerberus Research Station, Crab Nebula
December 21, 2367,
0200 Hours Zulu (Local time)
Miranda Lawson stands by the observation window, watching Anakin Sheppard sleep in the medical bay. The dim lights cast long shadows across the sterile white walls, while the steady hum of the station's life support systems serves as a constant background noise. Sheppard lies unconscious on the examination table, his body still, except for the faint rise and fall of his chest. The doctors and nurses hover around him, taking vitals and extracting more blood from his veins.
A nurse approaches with a syringe, pulling another pint of blood from Sheppard's arm. Miranda's brow furrows.
"Is that really necessary?" she asks, her voice soft but edged with concern. The blood they're extracting contains the very markers that could either defeat or revive the Reapers from their ancient slumber. They are playing with fire, meddling with forces that could destroy civilizations across the galaxy.
The nurse shrugs without looking up. "Not for me to say. Orders are orders."
Miranda's lips press into a thin line as she watches the nurse leave. She steps quietly into the room, her blue eyes locked on Sheppard's face. For five long years, she's watched him endure Cerberus's experiments. She was there when they pieced him back together after his capture, keeping him alive but unconscious, using him as the key to their dangerous plans. His blood, linked to General Opilio's lineage, held the potential to awaken the Reapers—or stop them once and for all.
She moves closer to Sheppard, her fingers brushing against his muscular arm. Her touch lingers as she traces her hand up to his face, pausing just above his cheek. The monitor attached to his vitals beeps softly in response. Miranda's chest tightens as she gazes at him. She's memorized every line of his face, every scar, every detail. She leans in, her eyes glistening as tears slip down her cheeks.
"Five years, Anakin," she whispers, her voice trembling. "I've watched them put you back together. Revive you. But they don't care about you like I do."
Miranda's fingers graze his jawline, and her heart aches with the weight of her unspoken feelings. She has fallen in love with him, a love that has grown over years of working in the shadows. But Anakin Sheppard doesn't know. He's married to Charlotte Burke Sheppard, a woman who has spent years searching for him, never giving up hope. And Miranda knows that, deep down, she shouldn't hope for anything more. But part of her—selfish and desperate—wants his wife to lose hope, to forget him.
"I can't blow my cover," she murmurs, her hand trembling as she pulls away. "But soon, the Federation will rescue you, and you'll be free."
She steps back, trying to regain her composure. Her duty to Cerberus, her mission to infiltrate their ranks, has always come first. But her emotions, her attachment to Sheppard, have made things complicated. She glances at the door, hearing the faint footsteps of Cerberus guards patrolling the station. Time is running out. She knows the Federation is closing in, and soon, this entire operation will come crashing down.
Just as she begins to turn away, the shrill blare of alarms echoes through the station, sending a wave of panic through the medical bay. Red lights flash overhead, casting a sense of urgency across the sterile room.
"What's happening?" Miranda asks, rushing out of the room as Cerberus soldiers and personnel scramble around her. Her heart pounds in her chest.
A Cerberus soldier jogs past her, his voice clipped and tense. "Federation Navy found us! We need to evacuate. We're moving Sheppard to the Hades Gamma site."
Miranda's breath catches in her throat. She knew this moment would come, but she isn't ready. Not yet. She rushes back into the medical bay, watching as two Cerberus soldiers begin prepping Sheppard for transport, unhooking him from the medical equipment and securing him onto a stretcher.
She steps forward, her voice sharp. "Be careful with him!"
The soldiers glance at her but continue their work, indifferent to her concern. Miranda bites her lip, torn between her loyalty to Cerberus and her personal feelings for Sheppard. If the Federation is truly here, then this is her last chance. Her last chance to ensure his safety, her last chance to prove to herself that she can still help him.