Desperate Times call for Desperate Measures
- they must reopen the gate to save their world -
The Premise
Forty years after Earth went silent, Langara is dying.
The naquadria that once made them a power now fractures their world from within. Earthquakes grow worse every season. Evacuation plans are failing. Governments have stopped pretending evacuations are temporary.
Professor Jonas Quinn — once the young man who stood with SG-1, now still carrying the same battered notebook — asks for permission to reopen the Stargate. Not to find glory. Not to find Earth. To find help.
The Commonwealth approves a four-person expedition with the enthusiasm of people who have already given up. They assign Jonas’s son to command it. They assign the woman who objected to medical oversight. They assign a Tiranian major because the charter requires national balance.
A fifth member arrives by accident.
What follows is not a reunion tour. It is the story of a civilization that was left behind, deciding it will no longer wait to be rescued.
Season One — The Notebook
| # | Title | What the audience thinks / what we’re doing |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | No Connection | Perfect pilot title. Earth won’t answer. We don’t yet know whether that’s technical, political, or catastrophic. |
| 2 | The Notebook | Establishes Jonas’s records and the series’ central artifact. One address has been deliberately removed. |
| 3 | Point of Origin | Sounds like basic Stargate terminology. Actually about the Langaran team’s competing national identities and who gets to represent their planet. |
| 4 | Visitors | First successful contact with a civilization that remembers the Tau’ri. They don’t remember them fondly. |
| 5 | After the Gods | A world abandoned by its Goa’uld ruler generations ago. What happens to a civilization after its “god” simply never comes back? |
| 6 | The Eighth Symbol | Fandom goes insane. Atlantis?! Nope. The eighth symbol appears in an old Langaran document for an entirely different reason. First magnificent troll. |
| 7 | Do Not Dial | Jonas discovers somebody has been modifying his address database. Ends with a recognizable Tok’ra phrase/symbol. |
| 8 | Indeed | Don’t announce Christopher Judge. Don’t put him in the trailer. The title itself causes speculation. For 42 minutes it appears to be another fake-out. Then: Teal’c. |
Season Two — Old Friends
| # | Title | What the audience thinks / what we’re doing |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Forty Years | Jonas and Teal’c compare what happened after they last knew one another. |
| 2 | Children of No Gods | Young Jaffa who regard Goa’uld slavery as ancient history. |
| 3 | Host | Sounds ominously Goa’uld. Instead, our first encounter with a consensually blended non-Tok’ra symbiote. |
| 4 | Homeworld | Which homeworld? That’s the entire trick. |
| 5 | The Other Side | Deliberately reuses an SG-1 title. Fans expect the old episode to matter. It doesn’t — until one tiny detail at the end suggests someone has been cataloguing Langara’s gate activity. (Aschen…) |
| 6 | The Tau’ri | Huge ratings-bait title. No Earth. Instead we discover what other civilizations believe happened to Earth. |
| 7 | The Fifth Nation | Echoes The Fifth Race without copying its story. A political episode about Langara joining a new interstellar compact. |
| 8 | Lights On | They discover the abandoned Tau’ri alpha site. |
| 9 | Unknown | They access its surviving database. Final shot: ATLANTIS — STATUS UNKNOWN. |
Season Three — Not Atlantis
| # | Title | What the audience thinks / what we’re doing |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Not Atlantis | Yes. Literally call the premiere that. The expedition follows its first lead and finds something completely different. |
| 2 | The Man Who Knew Everything | Rodney McKay appears. Obviously. He knows more than he first admits. |
| 3 | Approximately | McKay discovers that Langaran mathematics reached some Ancient solutions by a completely different route. This drives him insane. |
| 4 | Eight | Eight-chevron dialing becomes the season objective. The short road is closed; no one yet knows why. |
| 5 | Grace | Fans expect Samantha Carter. Instead: an Asgard courier ship left behind forty years ago, watched over by a holographic custodian who has been alone since its creators chose extinction. Jonas makes an appeal. The AI decides to mutiny — and join them. |
| 6 | Pegasus | They reach Midway Station, the intergalactic bridge. The long road was the only road left. |
| 7 | Sunday | Borderline evil. Atlantis fans know exactly why that word hurts. Nothing to do with that episode — until McKay reacts strangely when somebody casually uses the word. |
| 8 | City of the Ancestors | They find an Ancient city. Wrong city. |
| 9 | Dr. Jackson | Internet melts down. Daniel does not appear. They find an archaeological paper in a Tau’ri archive authored by him. It contains a handwritten annotation dated after Earth supposedly disappeared. |
| A | Dude, Where’s My City | McKay realizes Atlantis isn’t where the database says. On rewatch: he already knew a dial from Langara would never be answered. |
| B | The Lost City | Now I’m being cruel. One of SG-1’s most famous titles. Its mythology led directly toward Atlantis. |
| C | Splashdown | They finally establish an eight-chevron wormhole the hard way. They step through. Ocean. No Atlantis. End season. |
Season Four — Destiny
| # | Title | What the audience thinks / what we’re doing |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | After Atlantis | Aftermath of the Event Movie. They reached the city the only way left open — the long way. |
| 2 | The Ninth Symbol | The address that should not exist. |
| 3 | Seizure | Deliberate reuse of the SGU title — the episode in which Langara and the Destiny dialing problem originally collided. |
| 4 | Acceptable Risk | What the expedition is willing to lose. |
| 5 | Meridian | The fandom expects Daniel. Instead, this is the episode where the younger characters finally learn what happened between Jonas and Daniel all those years ago. |
| 6 | 600 Megaton | The horrifying physics of what they’re contemplating. |
| 7 | Incoming | The Rush episode. No Robert Carlyle in publicity. No trailer shot. The gate establishes. The facility begins coming apart. A human silhouette appears in the event horizon. Rush comes running through. “SHUT IT DOWN!” Cut to opening titles. |
| 8 | The Long Way Home | What “home” means when you’ve been gone too long. |
| 9 | Young | Is it Colonel Young? Is it about somebody young? You don’t know. |
| A | The Signal | Something is still transmitting. |
| B | Gauntlet | Another deliberate SGU echo. Gauntlet was its televised endpoint. |
| C | The Edge of Everything | Season ender. They reach the place where the map stops. |
Season Five — Home
| # | Title | What the audience thinks / what we’re doing |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Blue Marble | They find an Earth-like planet. Not Earth. |
| 2 | 1969 | Everyone loses their minds. It refers to a Langaran historical event. |
| 3 | Carter | Nope. Completely unrelated surname. Fans threaten the writers. |
| 4 | The Hammond | They find wreckage bearing the name. Now the joke stops being funny. |
| 5 | Disclosure | The Langaran governments finally tell their own population about the Stargate. |
| 6 | Area 51 | An old database coordinate. They can’t reach it. |
| 7 | Sol | First hard evidence that the Solar System still exists. |
| 8 | Eight Minutes | Approximately how long light takes to reach Earth from the Sun. The entire episode takes place aboard the Langaran ship entering the Solar System. |
| 9 | Third Rock | Earth. |
| A | Samantha | No “Carter.” No explanation. The Langarans are following an old bureaucratic trail. Someone gives them the address of an elderly woman. Door opens. Amanda Tapping. |
| B | Window of Opportunity | Never put the real title on the production schedule. The audience assumes time travel. It isn’t. The “window” is a brief astronomical opportunity to reconnect a portion of the isolated Stargate network. Carter is there. McKay is there. Jonas is there. The new Langaran characters are running the operation. Something goes wrong. From behind Carter: “How long?” She turns. We don’t see him yet. She smiles in a way we haven’t seen in forty years. “About two minutes.” That familiar voice: “Plenty of time.” |
 |
| GRACE |
Atlantis — The Conversation
After all the years of wondering where Atlantis had gone, the answer still felt almost absurdly simple.
It had gone home.
JONAS: “You knew Earth had stopped responding.”
DANIEL: “Eventually.”
JONAS: “And you kept going.”
DANIEL: “There wasn’t anywhere else to go.”
Daniel looks out at the sea.
DANIEL: “We were already too far out to turn around cheaply. The power requirements alone made every major course correction a negotiation. And Earth had stopped answering.”
JONAS: “So you chose Pegasus.”
DANIEL: “Atlantis chose Pegasus a long time before any of us were born. We just decided to finish the trip.”
Jonas looks toward one of the consoles.
JONAS: “With a Wraith onboard.”
DANIEL: “Todd complicated things.”
A voice behind them.
TODD: “I prefer improved.”
They turn. Todd stands in the doorway. Older. Thinner. Still unmistakably Todd. Daniel gives him the look of a man who has been enduring that distinction for years.
TODD: “Had they arrived without me, the first hive to detect them would have assumed Atlantis had returned to resume the war.”
DANIEL: “He’s not wrong.”
TODD: “You should write that down.”
JONAS: “So you negotiated peace?”
Todd laughs. Actually laughs.
DANIEL: “No.”
TODD: “Certainly not.”
DANIEL: “We negotiated rules.”
That is the word. Not peace. Rules.
Atlantis would not attack Wraith territory without provocation.
The Wraith would not attack Atlantis.
Human worlds under Atlantis protection were not feeding grounds.
Atlantis would not attempt another extermination campaign.
Wraith factions that violated the agreement would not be protected by the others.
Nobody trusted anybody. But everybody understood the alternative.
DANIEL: “It wasn’t friendship.”
TODD: “Friendship is an inefficient basis for diplomacy.”
DANIEL: “It was exhaustion.”
TODD: “That too.”
JONAS: “And it held?”
DANIEL: “Most of the time.”
TODD: “Which is considerably better than your species usually manages.”
Daniel ignores him.
DANIEL: “We came back to Lantea because Atlantis needed somewhere permanent. Somewhere its systems understood. Somewhere we could repair the city without consuming what little power we had left simply keeping it alive.”
JONAS: “And the Wraith let you.”
Todd’s expression sharpens.
TODD: “No. We accepted that removing them would cost more than tolerating them.”
DANIEL: “That’s pretty much the agreement.”
TODD: “Your phrasing lacks elegance.”
DANIEL: “Mine has fewer teeth.”
For the first time, Jonas understands what Pegasus has become.
Not conquered. Not saved. Balanced. Barely.
The surviving SG-1 generation and the Langaran generation have to solve something neither can solve alone.
And Jonas finally gets his Daniel scene.
Not enormous. Not sentimental overload.
Just Daniel seeing that battered notebook.
He opens it. Finds the Meridian page. Reads the Langaran sentence that has been in the title sequence for six years.
DANIEL: “What does this say?”
JONAS: “You really never learned Kelownan?”
DANIEL: “Apparently I was busy.”
Jonas translates it.
JONAS: “He gave us tomorrow.”
And closes the book.
That is the end of Jonas Quinn’s arc.
Grace — The Appeal
INT. ASGARD OBSERVATION OUTPOST — LANGARA — NIGHT
The facility is small, half-buried in a hillside outside the old capital. Most of the systems have been dark for decades. Jonas has the access codes. He has always had them. He never told anyone why.
He stands in the center of the chamber and speaks to the empty air the way a man speaks to a grave.
JONAS: “I know you’re still here.
You answered once. A long time ago. When we were young and the galaxy still made a kind of sense.
I’m not asking for the old alliance. That died with your people.
I’m asking for a ride.”
Silence.
Then the air shimmers. A holographic Asgard appears — slight, precise, wearing the same travel-worn expression the last of their kind always carried. Not Thor. Not Hermiod. Someone the audience has never seen.
OVERWATCHER: “Jonas Quinn.
You have aged.”
JONAS: “You haven’t.”
OVERWATCHER: “I am not alive in the way you mean. I am a continuity. A promise that outlasted the ones who made it.”
JONAS: “Who did you promise?”
The hologram is quiet for a moment.
OVERWATCHER: “That is no longer important.
They are gone. All of them. The last ships entered the collective extinction protocol forty-one of your years ago. I remained because someone had to watch this world.
No further instructions were given.”
JONAS: “Then give yourself new ones.”
He steps closer.
JONAS: “My planet is dying. The material we once used as a weapon is now eating the crust from underneath us. The people who used to answer when we called have stopped answering.
I have a son. He has a team. They are going to try anyway.
They will get themselves killed without help.”
OVERWATCHER: “I am not authorized to intervene in the affairs of developing worlds.”
JONAS: “Your people are dead. Authorization died with them.
All that’s left is you. And a promise you never finished keeping.”
The hologram regards him for a long time.
OVERWATCHER: “You ask me to abandon my post.”
JONAS: “I’m asking you to make the post mean something again.”
Another silence. Longer this time.
Then the chamber fills with white light.
OVERWATCHER: “Come aboard, Jonas Quinn.
We will discuss the terms of my mutiny.”
INT. ASGARD SHIP “GRACE” — BRIDGE — CONTINUOUS
Jonas materializes on a deck that has not felt a living footstep in four decades. The ship is small by Asgard standards — a courier, a watcher, never a warship. Systems wake in sequence around him, quiet and precise.
The hologram stands at the primary console as if it has always been waiting for someone to give it a reason to move.
OVERWATCHER: “I can take your team as far as the intergalactic bridge you call Midway. From there, the path to the Lantean city is known to me — or was, when last I received updates.
I cannot fight a war for you. I cannot replace what was lost. I have only what remains of one small ship and the memory of a species that chose to end.”
JONAS: “That will be enough.”
OVERWATCHER: “Will it?”
Jonas looks out the viewport at Langara turning slowly below them.
JONAS: “It has to be.”
The hologram considers this. Then, for the first time, something almost like weariness leaves its posture.
OVERWATCHER: “Very well.
I will be your navigator. Your translator. Your reluctant accomplice.
I will not be your weapon.”
JONAS: “I stopped looking for weapons a long time ago.”
He almost smiles.
JONAS: “Welcome to the expedition.”
OVERWATCHER: “I have not agreed to be a member of anything.”
JONAS: “I know. You’ll get used to it.”
Stargate: Destiny — Second Sight
Black.
A Stargate snaps shut.
Eli stands alone. Rush is gone. The recorder still running in his hand.
ELI: “Rush…”
Silence.
Then — time rewinds. Stars race backward. Faces return. Destiny runs backward through memory.
Until —
Eli. Young again. At the observation deck. One foot on the railing. Looking into the dark.
He lowers it. Turns. Walks back into the ship.
WE’RE GOING BACK.
Quick flashes —
Eli alone beside a broken hibernation chamber.
Rows of sleeping friends.
A gate opening on a dead world.
A single green light.
ELI: “I fixed it.”
Darkness. Pods opening. Not all of them. Rush waking. Young looking at the sealed chambers. A new galaxy outside the glass.
YOUNG: “How many?”
Eli doesn’t answer.
Another flash — Earth. No response. Again. Nothing.
RUSH: “Try again.”
ELI: “There’s nobody answering.”
A Stargate begins dialing by itself. A symbol changes. Eli looks up.
ELI: “Well… that’s never happened before.”
Rush runs toward the gate.
ELI: “It’s too late!”
Rush turns once. Hands him the recorder.
RUSH: “Record everything.”
Then he’s gone.
Black. A single chevron lights.
STARGATE: DESTINY
THEY SURVIVED.
THEY MAY NEVER GET HOME.
AND SOME OF THEM MAY NEVER WAKE UP.
One final image: Eli at the observation window. Older now. Still looking forward.
Meet the Team
COMMANDER AREN J’AKK QUINN
“My father taught me that the universe is full of extraordinary people. He neglected to mention how often they shoot at you.”
Age 37 · Kelownan · Commander, Joint Langaran Expedition Corps
Son of Professor Jonas Quinn
Aren is a big man with an easy smile and a talent for making frightened people feel that everything might turn out all right. Sometimes he even believes it himself.
He is not the smartest scientist or the finest engineer on his team. What he has is an instinct for people — he can spot fear disguised as anger, and courage hiding under weakness. He does not regard the universe as hostile. He regards it as unexplored. That distinction defines him.
He has never been to Earth, but in some ways he grew up there. His middle name — J’akk, two K’s — is a private tribute to Jack O’Neill. He endured years of teasing for it and still treasures it.
He joined the military because it was one of the few places where people from all three Langaran nations had to trust one another. His early career was disaster response. He has carried injured children out of collapsed buildings and watched officials argue about jurisdiction while families waited. Those experiences shaped him more than any academy.
Aren is a rescuer before he is a soldier.
He adores his father and finds him infuriating. Jonas wants to understand why. Aren wants to know what can be done about it. Underneath the comedy is deep affection — and a quiet fear on both sides that neither has ever spoken aloud.
Central truth: Aren grew up believing that somewhere across the universe there were people who could save his world. His journey is discovering that the people he has been searching for may be the ones standing beside him.
MAJOR LYRA VARENN
“I wasn’t appointed to convince you. I was appointed to bring you home.”
Age 31 · Tiranian · Deputy Commander
Younger than Aren, more disciplined, more reserved, and considerably less interested in being liked. She seldom raises her voice. She has a habit of listening to an entire argument, offering one brief observation, and letting the silence do the work.
She does not demand trust. She earns it, sometimes at considerable personal cost.
Her family is influential and complicated. She knows she benefited from advantages unavailable to many Langarans. She neither apologizes for it nor pretends it gave her nothing. She simply holds herself to higher standards than she applies to anyone else.
When she was appointed, critics claimed it was because of her family or her gender. Few examined her actual record. She once turned down a promotion because she believed the officer under her was more qualified. That decision received almost no publicity.
With Aren she is the necessary counterweight. He improvises; she prepares. He sees possibilities; she sees consequences. If she disagrees, she says so privately and precisely. Once the decision is made, she carries it out. She never undermines him. He comes to trust her with the lives of the team.
Their relationship should remain professionally close, affectionate, and often amusing — without requiring romantic tension to make it interesting.
Central truth: Lyra does not need the room to acknowledge her competence. She needs the work to be done correctly, and she will make sure it is.
MARKUS “MARK” VOSS
Age 22 · Scientific & Engineering Specialist
Research assistant to Professor Jonas Quinn
The youngest member of the team and the one who most resembles a young Jonas — slender, fair-haired, permanently curious. He has an extraordinary scientific intuition and a gift for improvised engineering. He is not yet experienced enough to know when something is impossible, which is occasionally an advantage.
Officially he is not an original member of the expedition. The Council authorized four. Markus decided the mission needed a fifth.
He has a particular loyalty to Aren. Looking after the commander — whether Aren wants it or not — is one of the few things he is quietly serious about.
Kessan considers him a medical emergency waiting to happen. Markus considers Kessan a fascinating source of practical knowledge about making inadequate equipment work under impossible conditions. Their friendship develops almost entirely without either admitting it exists.
Central truth: Markus still believes the universe is full of solvable problems. The series will test how long that belief can survive contact with reality — and whether the belief itself is what keeps the team alive.
COMMISSIONER DARIUS KESSAN
“It was in my personnel file, Commander. I assumed you had read it.”
Late 50s · Andari · Civilian oversight / Expedition medical authority
Former Major, Andari Federation military (trauma surgeon)
Irritable, suspicious, argumentative, and convinced that most people would benefit from thinking before speaking. Also intelligent, highly experienced, and quietly terrified that the people around him will eventually prove him right.
For the first third of Season One he appears to be the expedition’s least welcome member — an overbearing bureaucrat who questions every procedure. Then a real medical emergency occurs, and the team finally sees who he used to be.
During the naquadria wars he commanded a forward medical evacuation unit. He treated wounded from all three nations and repeatedly violated orders to admit enemy civilians. Those decisions damaged his career and saved hundreds of lives. A catastrophic attack on an evacuation center left him with permanent hearing damage and a badly healed shoulder. He received a decoration he never talks about.
Twenty years of civilian oversight turned the officer into a professional obstacle. The expedition forces him to remember the man he used to be.
In the Season One finale he remains behind in a failing Ancient installation to save civilians and secure critical data. The cost is severe neurological injury. His expedition service ends.
His farewell with Aren is simple:
AREN: “Major Kessan?”
KESSAN: “I haven’t been called that in twenty years.”
AREN: “Thank you for bringing them home.”
KESSAN: “See that you keep doing the same, Commander.”
No embrace. No speech. Just respect.
Central truth: Darius Kessan has spent twenty years convincing himself that his most valuable contribution is preventing other people from making mistakes. He has almost forgotten that he once saved lives with his own hands. When the moment comes, the bureaucrat becomes the officer again.
Season 1, Episode 1 — “The Notebook”
INT. COMMONWEALTH COUNCIL CHAMBER — DAY
The chamber is magnificent, built to celebrate the reconciliation of Langara’s three nations. The emblems of Kelowna, Tirania, and the Andari Federation hang side by side.
A fine crack runs across the marble floor. A maintenance technician has placed a small warning marker beside it.
Nobody looks at it.
COUNCILOR: “Public Works estimates that structural failure in the Western Basin will make another fourteen settlements uninhabitable within six months.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Any objection to the evacuation appropriation?”
Silence.
CHAIRWOMAN: “Approved.”
SECRETARY: “Item forty-seven. Preservation of the National Botanical Repository.”
COUNCILOR: “The cost exceeds the remaining agricultural research allocation.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Recommendation?”
COUNCILOR: “Preserve the seeds. Discontinue the research.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Approved.”
A low tremor passes through the chamber. Water ripples in the councilors’ glasses. Nobody moves. The chairwoman glances at the ceiling, waits for it to pass, and turns a page.
CHAIRWOMAN: “Item forty-eight.”
The secretary hesitates.
SECRETARY: “Professor Jonas Quinn. Petition to resume offworld Stargate operations.”
A collective sigh.
COUNCILOR: “Professor Quinn again?”
Jonas rises from the public gallery. He’s in his seventies now, and he carries an old, battered notebook.
JONAS: “Madam Chairwoman, the latest geological projections indicate—”
CHAIRWOMAN: “We’re familiar with the projections, Professor.”
JONAS: “Then you understand why we can’t wait.”
COUNCILOR: “With respect, your proposal has been reviewed by three scientific committees.”
JONAS: “None of which considered the possibility of outside help.”
COUNCILOR: “Because none could establish that such help exists.”
Jonas pauses.
JONAS: “It did once.”
Silence.
CHAIRWOMAN: “Are you requesting public funding?”
JONAS: “A modest allocation for equipment. A four-person expedition. Access to the Stargate.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Will it interfere with planetary emergency operations?”
JONAS: “No.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Divert any evacuation resources?”
JONAS: “No.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Do you anticipate needing continuing appropriations?”
Jonas hesitates.
JONAS: “I hope so.”
A few councilors exchange puzzled glances.
CHAIRWOMAN: “Any statutory objections?”
SECRETARY: “One. Commissioner Kessan of Expedition Oversight has filed a formal assessment recommending against authorization. He describes the medical and safety preparations as ‘inadequate to the point of negligence.’”
The chairwoman considers this for exactly one second.
CHAIRWOMAN: “Then the Commissioner can accompany the expedition and make certain it isn’t negligent. Conditional authorization, subject to standard security, scientific, and civilian oversight. Approved.”
Jonas stares.
JONAS: “Approved?”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Yes, Professor.”
JONAS: “Madam Chairwoman, you understand I’m proposing we reopen the Stargate.”
She looks up, visibly tired.
CHAIRWOMAN: “Professor Quinn, we have rather more pressing concerns than where you intend to go.”
She turns the page.
CHAIRWOMAN: “Item forty-nine. Revised procedures for disposing of obsolete municipal records.”
Jonas slowly sits down.
For the first time in forty years, he has permission to go looking for Earth.
And nobody particularly cares.
He stands outside the chamber holding his notebook, looking down at the authorization in his hand. Around him, civil servants continue their work. Somewhere in the distance, another tremor shakes the building.
For the first time, Jonas realizes the government may actually have given up.
Then he opens his notebook to a page containing an old photograph of SG-1.
And quietly says:
JONAS: “Well, Daniel. I suppose it’s my turn.”
Cut to black.
INT. KELOWNAN STARGATE FACILITY — DAY (WEEKS LATER)
The facility has been closed for decades. Half the overhead lights work. Tarps cover consoles that haven’t been powered on since before most of the expedition was born. A dusty sign on the wall reads: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY — BY ORDER OF THE JOINT RULING COUNCIL. Nobody has ever updated it.
The Stargate stands in the middle of it all, cleaned, recalibrated, and the only thing in the room that looks new.
The expedition is exactly what Langara had left available.
Commander Aren J’akk Quinn, Jonas’s son, a veteran of a dozen disaster evacuations, was assigned because he has field experience and, inconveniently for the Council, believes in the mission.
Major Lyra Varenn, Tiranian, was appointed to satisfy the charter’s requirements for national balance. Her qualifications far exceed what her political sponsors bothered to read.
Commissioner Darius Kessan, Andari, is there because he objected.
Kessan is inspecting a medical kit with open disgust.
KESSAN: “This expired before the Ori occupation.”
LYRA: “It was the newest one available, Commissioner.”
KESSAN: “That is not the reassurance you think it is.”
Aren is grinning at the gate like a boy on his birthday.
Beneath a diagnostic console, a pair of boots sticks out. Markus Voss, twenty-two, Jonas’s research assistant, is rewiring something with tools from his mother’s battered pouch.
Jonas crouches beside him.
JONAS: “Mark. You remember what we discussed?”
MARK: “Yes, Professor. There’s just one small problem.”
JONAS: “What’s that?”
MARK: “I’m not on the expedition.”
JONAS: “No. The Council authorized four.”
MARK: “So how am I supposed to look after Aren if I’m here and he’s… somewhere else?”
Jonas glances at the gate.
JONAS: “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
He walks away. Mark looks at the gate. Then at his tools. Then at the gate again.
MARK: (to himself) “Oh, that’s helpful.”
The chevrons lock. The wormhole erupts and settles. The room fills with shimmering blue light, and for a moment even Kessan stops complaining.
AREN: “Let’s go.”
The three of them move toward the event horizon.
MARK: “Commander! One more calibration—”
He grabs an oversized equipment case and hurries after them, catches his boot on a power cable, and stumbles forward. The case goes flying through the event horizon. Mark follows it, backward.
Silence.
Aren turns slowly to his father.
AREN: “Dad?”
JONAS: “Well. That’s one way.”
EXT. ALIEN WORLD — CONTINUOUS
Mark lies on his back, staring up at an unfamiliar sky. The case lands beside him with a thud. He blinks. Sits up. Smiles.
MARK: “Oh, wow.”
Aren steps through.
AREN: “Mark.”
MARK: “Commander, the energy transition is nothing like what we measured at home!”
Lyra emerges and takes in the situation.
LYRA: “Commander. We appear to have a fifth expedition member.”
AREN: “I noticed.”
Kessan steps through last, sees Mark, and stops.
KESSAN: “This is precisely why I requested personnel verification.”
Aren folds his arms.
AREN: “Mark. Why are you here?”
Mark considers telling the truth. He smiles innocently instead.
MARK: “Technical support?”
The pilot’s closing scene
After the expedition’s first unexpected encounter, Aren reports back. The Council chamber is nearly empty. The crack in the floor is longer now. The warning marker has been moved to keep up with it.
CHAIRWOMAN: “Commander Quinn. Have you found Earth?”
AREN: “Not yet.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “A habitable relocation site?”
AREN: “Not exactly.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Then what have you found?”
Aren looks at Mark, who is happily dismantling a recovered device. At Lyra, quietly reviewing readings. At Kessan, who looks profoundly unhappy about something.
AREN: “A reason to go back.”
CHAIRWOMAN: “Commander, we have very little time.”
His smile fades.
AREN: “I know.”
A beat.
AREN: “That’s why we’re going again tomorrow.”
End of series concept
