I settled back in the command chair of The Phoenix, hands resting lightly on the sleek armrests. Around me, the hum of the ship's systems meshed with the steady drumming of my own pulse. We'd drifted into the Orthala Galaxy under cloak—careful not to broadcast our presence in hostile territory—and now we were simply waiting.
Waiting turned out to be short-lived. In a cascade of bright flashes, five Asgard warships dropped out of hyperspace and arranged themselves in a loose, cautious ring around my position. Even from the holoscreen's tactical overlay, I could see they were well-coordinated: each vessel interlocking arcs of coverage, clearly prepared for a fight.
A tense silence followed. Then came the hail: "Unknown Vessel! You are in Asgard territory. Identify yourself and power down all weapons."
I let out a slow breath. This is it. Reaching for the console, I opened a video feed, revealing me on my "throne," though I liked to think of it more as a command seat.
"Greetings," I said calmly. "I am Marty Ellis, of the Alteran Empire. Under the Alliance of the Four Great Races, I've come to render aid to the Asgard in their ongoing conflict. Please accept my Ancient identification code."
I keyed in a small data burst—ancient encryption patterns gleaned from Merlin's repository and older records from the Lantean era. The Asgard communications officer, an individual with the small, gray body typical of their species, blinked several times in apparent shock.
After a few tense seconds, the Asgard responded, voice measured. "We… acknowledge your code, Marty Ellis of the Alterans. I am Commander Fran of the Asgard fleet. Our records indicated the Alterans vanished millions of years ago. It is a gift to the universe if even one Ancient endures. We welcome you to Orthala."
I inclined my head. "Thank you, Commander. I request an audience with your leadership to discuss a solution for the Replicator threat. Please transmit coordinates where I can safely park my vessel."
Commander Fran nodded, though the tension remained in her voice. "Coordinates have been sent. We caution you to remain on high alert. The Replicators appear without warning, and we cannot risk them capturing advanced technology. If your vessel shows signs of infestation, we will not hesitate to act."
"Understood," I replied. "I intend to help rid the galaxy of this menace, not invite it inside."
The Phoenix soared away under minimal power, still cloaked. We reappeared in a designated orbit around Hala, the Asgard's newly established capital world in Orthala. I suspected they were scanning me like crazy—attempting to see inside the hull. My own sensor readouts showed them bombarding the ship with everything from neutrino sweeps to exotic subspace pulses. I doubted they'd glean much. The Phoenix's shielding was built with top-tier Ancient tech.
Meeting the Asgard on Hala
Once stable in orbit, I boarded a small transport and descended to the surface. The city below was quintessential Asgard: smooth gray architecture, narrow spires glimmering faintly under Hala's pale sun, and an overall futuristic minimalism. In the wide streets, I saw occasional Asgard scurrying about with that trademark side-to-side gait—no sign of uniforms, no outward sign of gender or social rank. Just serious-eyed "little gray men" going about their business.
I'd barely set foot on the polished landing pad when two Asgard approached—one I recognized immediately from historical records: Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet. Beside him stood Penegal, a prominent High Council member.
"I am Thor," he said in that calm, resonant tone. "High Commander of our forces. This is Penegal of the High Council. On behalf of the Asgard, we welcome you to Hala."
I dipped my head respectfully. "A true honor. My name is Marty Ellis, though I also claim the mantle of an Alteran, perhaps the last. I've come to share technology that might end the Replicator threat."
Thor and Penegal exchanged glances—some unspoken relief in their wide, dark eyes. "We feared no Ancient survived," Penegal said quietly. "To have even one re-emerge is a momentous development, especially in our time of crisis."
We walked, the three of us passing through broad arches of luminous material. Thor used the moment to brief me on the dire state of their war. "The Replicators have overrun entire sectors of Orthala. Their numbers multiply daily. We have considered evacuating the galaxy, though that would leave it entirely to the machines. Despair weighs heavily on our people."
I nodded grimly. "I understand. The Milky Way faces its own threats—the Goa'uld, the Wraith in Pegasus, and so on. We're locked in a near-constant battle for survival. My plan is to eradicate these threats one by one, but the Replicators pose a wildcard that might strike at any time. Hence why I came here first."
The Asgard High Council
Before long, we reached the High Council building, an oval structure shimmering in soft white light. Inside, the halls exuded calm and efficiency. We boarded a small lift that whisked us to a council chamber—circular, ringed by raised platforms where a handful of senior Asgard observed from vantage points.
Unlike the show's depiction, they didn't look down upon me. They'd erected a small podium that rose to about their chest height, so we were practically at eye level—albeit across species that varied widely in height. After formal introductions, we got down to business.
"I've studied the Replicators' subspace-driven hive mind," I explained. "They adapt quickly to single-frequency assaults, so I've designed a multi-stage approach. Specifically, I have an Anti-Replicator Pulse Generator—or ARPG for short—that can neutralize Replicators across multiple parsecs with minimal risk of them finding a quick counter."
Skepticism flickered in the Asgard's eyes. Thor leaned forward. "We have tried advanced beams, disruptor bursts, gravitational anomalies—yet each time, the Replicators adapted. How do you prevent that?"
"By blocking their collective intelligence," I clarified. "The weapon includes a subspace jamming pulse that severs their local cluster from the rest. Then, it forces them to cluster or reconfigure in a predictable manner. A final wave hits them at the subatomic level, effectively turning them into inert dust. Even if a fragment escapes, I can constantly update frequencies, so they can't keep pace with their usual 'instant evolution.'"
Penegal shifted slightly. "This is… extraordinary. Do you have enough devices to deploy across our front lines?"
"I brought only a limited stock with me—enough for a hundred large-scale pulses and a thousand specialized anti-Replicator missiles. I'm cautious about giving out blueprints in case the Replicators capture them. For the same reason, I'd prefer to remain the sole manufacturer. But if we coordinate properly, we can push back the machines—and permanently."
The Council whispered among themselves, computing the logistics. Finally, one of the older Asgard looked up. "A demonstration would settle our doubts. If you can show us these weapons truly work at scale, we will consider your offer. Should it succeed, the Asgard stand ready to form an alliance, as once existed with the Alterans."
I suppressed a tiny smile. "Where do we begin?"
Testing the Anti-Replicator Pulse
Thor recommended a test site: a remote solar system overrun by hundreds of Replicator ships. They'd anchored themselves around an Asgard outpost, picking it clean for resources. In the control room, I relinquished two of my pulse generators—small, coffin-sized devices brimming with destructive potential. Thor's battleship jumped there alone, broadcasting the event via subspace link so the High Council (and I) could observe in real time.
Sure enough, as Thor's vessel reverted from hyperspace, the Replicators converged. Their black, chittering hulls glinted in the starlight, wave after wave forming a near-impenetrable swarm. Thor waited until they were at optimal range, then triggered the generator. On our screens, a silent, brilliant pulse radiated outward, shimmering with an odd, prismatic quality.
Instantly, every Replicator ship on the display ground to a halt. Another moment, and they disintegrated into fine metallic powder. The feed lingered on silent hull fragments drifting in zero gravity, no sign of reassembly. The Asgard in the council chamber burst into excited chatter, the closest thing I'd witnessed to unrestrained joy from them.
A holographic projection of Thor appeared, stoic but clearly relieved. "All Replicators in the system have been neutralized. Sensors detect no subspace comm chatter, no activity. This may be the breakthrough we have needed. Marty Ellis… you have the Asgard's deepest gratitude."
Sealing the Alliance
From that point on, negotiations went rapidly in my favor. The Asgard recognized me as the official heir to the Alteran legacy within the Milky Way and Pegasus. In return, I promised to supply them with a hundred of my pulse generators, plus a thousand specialized anti-Replicator missiles that introduced subspace errors and effectively turned Replicator clusters against themselves. They complained about the modest numbers, but I argued that fewer devices meant fewer chances for the Replicators to capture or study them. If the Asgard needed resupplies, they'd come to me for more.
I also insisted on an exchange: I wanted Asgard intergalactic hyperdrive blueprints, as well as their beaming technology. Both were leaps beyond what I currently employed. The High Council deliberated for hours—those were crown jewels of Asgard engineering. But with their entire galaxy at stake, they conceded. They recognized the alliance of the Four Great Races once included free trade of knowledge, and if the Asgard were to survive, they needed my hardware. So they agreed.
"Your generosity shan't be forgotten," Thor said, performing a small bow. "Though the Asgard have contributed much to the Tauri, we have rarely shared the full scope of our hyperdrive or beaming systems. It is a momentous exchange."
I acknowledged the weight of that statement with a nod. "As you know, the Alterans were… not always the best at sharing, either. I hope to rectify that. Together, we can unify our galaxies, keep them safe from Replicators, and also from the other threats we face."
Gathering Asgard Knowledge
Over the next week, I made the most of my time on Hala. With the High Council's permission, I roamed a portion of their central archives—a labyrinth of smooth, luminous corridors that stored data crystals stacked in neat rows. The Asgard had centuries of advanced genetics knowledge, gleaned from their repeated self-cloning. I gleaned reams of data on cellular stability, disease immunology, and subspace entanglement in living organisms. Many of these insights might help me cure or at least understand the Ancient plague that had ravaged my forebears.
During quieter moments, I strolled through Hala's city centers. Even overshadowed by war, the Asgard's capital boasted a tranquil civility. Shops, laboratories, and entire educational institutes existed within rounded towers, floating walkways connecting them in mesmerizing arcs. Everywhere I looked, sculptures and artistic flourishes reminded me these weren't just "gray clones with big heads" but a culture that had thrived for millennia on science and philosophy.
By the time the final handshake was sealed, I'd also scheduled follow-up visits. The Asgard planned to deploy my anti-Replicator weapons along their border worlds. If the Replicators tried a mass incursion, the Asgard would ring the alarm, and I'd manufacture new devices as needed. As a symbolic measure, we re-signed the old Four Races Alliance Charter, even though the Nox and Furlings weren't physically present to do so. Thor stood by me, adding a note about the Tauri as "new signatories." In all, it was the most hopeful moment the Asgard had seen in ages.
Upgrading The Phoenix
Returning to The Phoenix in orbit, I found a flurry of Asgard drones installing the new hyperdrive modules and transporter arrays. Their technicians—about half my height—moved with eerie precision, milling around the outer hull under a localized shield bubble. Inside, Helia (my AI) confirmed the systems were fully integrated. We tested a short micro-jump between Hala and a neighboring star, verifying it took mere minutes rather than the hours or days I'd needed before. My old approach—still advanced by Milky Way standards—was glacial compared to the Asgard's cutting-edge frameshift technology.
Once I said my goodbyes on the surface, I beamed back aboard to a chorus of beeping consoles. New sensors flickered online, harnessing partial knowledge from the Asgard. I spent a few more days ensuring everything meshed with my Ancient-based architecture, then made final preparations to depart.
Thor, Penegal, and a host of other high councilors contacted me via hologram. "Marty Ellis," said Thor. "The Asgard cannot truly express our gratitude. With your help, our future is no longer a single bleak corridor. May your fortunes be equally bright as you engage the threats in your galaxy."
I offered a slight bow in return. "It was a pleasure, Supreme Commander. Our alliance marks a new chapter. If you need me, you know where to reach me. Good luck."
Returning to The Anvil
Moments later, the new hyperdrive roared to life with a subdued hum, and The Phoenix streaked into the shimmering tapestry of superluminal travel. But this time, the trip was drastically shorter. Where once it would have taken weeks to cross from Orthala back to the Milky Way, we made it in just under an hour.
Emerging near Seraph-344, I felt a surge of pride in the new system readouts. My personal shipyard, The Anvil, glowed like a ring of starlight in the distance, forging new expansions around itself. I'd left behind construction droids busily refining salvage from the leftover Ha'taks. Now I had the technology for an even bolder industrial leap, courtesy of Asgard design principles.
I sank into the command chair, letting the view of my creation fill the main holo-display. Once we'd established a stable orbit, I brought up the lab data from Hala's archives, cross-referencing it with the stasis-bound Ancient I'd kept aboard. One more puzzle to solve—the Ancient plague. If I succeeded, maybe I could resurrect others or even heal those still locked away. The possibilities were enormous.
But for now, I allowed myself a moment to appreciate the milestone: forging an alliance with the Asgard, crippling the Replicators' unstoppable march, and gaining a hyperdrive so fast I could crisscross galaxies in the time it took to watch a movie. The path ahead was no less dangerous—Goa'uld, Wraith, the precarious politics on Earth. Yet each victory brought me closer to fulfilling the legacy I'd claimed: that of the Alteran Empire's last scion, champion of the Four Great Races.
Smiling wryly, I whispered to the empty bridge, "Helia, mark the logs. Our next steps might be the biggest yet."
The AI's gentle voice echoed back: "Yes, Marty. Log recorded. Ready for orders."
My gaze lingered on the station, its forging panels reflecting the star's golden light. "Then let's get to work."