Interest in an SGU Season 3 Fan Novel Inspired by the Laurence Moroney Scripts

I've been toying with the idea of writing a fan novel to continue Stargate Universe with a hypothetical Season 3. I've started drafting it, drawing loose inspiration from the unproduced Laurence Moroney scripts from 2011 while taking the story in my own direction.

Would there be any interest in me sharing it with the community? If so, here's a short excerpt to give you a taste of where I'm taking the story.

The darkness between galaxies was absolute.

Destiny hung there like a forgotten relic, her long hull black against a deeper black, the last scattered photons of the previous galaxy already faded to nothing behind her. Ahead, a vast river of stars waited—cold, distant, and utterly indifferent. For three years the ancient ship had crossed that gulf in silence, her crew sealed in stasis, their lives reduced to slow molecular whispers while the universe turned without them.

A soft chime sounded in the stasis corridor.

Chloe Armstrong’s eyes opened.

For a moment she simply stared, the pod’s translucent cover still inches from her face. The air that rushed in when the seal released was cold and metallic, tasting of long-unused systems. She sat up too quickly and the corridor tilted. Only then did she notice the small silver sphere hovering in front of her—its single blue lens fixed on her face with mechanical patience.

A kino.

It drifted backward a few meters, paused, then glided away down the darkened hallway. Chloe swung her legs over the edge of the pod and stood on unsteady feet. The rest of the stasis pods remained sealed and dark. She was alone.

“Eli?” Her voice cracked from disuse. “Eli, are you here?”

No answer. Only the soft hum of minimal life support and the faint clank of a distant maintenance bot.

The kino waited at the next intersection, then continued when she followed. Chloe pulled the thin emergency blanket tighter around her shoulders and walked after it, bare feet whispering on the cold deck. Most of Destiny’s lights were still offline; the corridors felt like the inside of a tomb. She passed the sealed faces of the others—Young, Rush, Scott, Greer—frozen exactly as they had been when the long sleep began. None stirred.

The kino led her to the Stones Room.

One communication stone rested on the console, its surface catching the dim emergency light like a polished piece of night. The kino floated above it, lens turning slowly until it locked once more on Chloe. The invitation could not have been clearer.

She hesitated, heart hammering. Three years. What had happened on Earth in three years? What had happened to the people she loved?

“Eli?” she whispered again, softer this time.

Silence.

Chloe sat. The stone was cool beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes, drew a breath, and pressed her palm against it.

The universe inverted.

Light. Noise. The sudden weight of another body. Chloe gasped and opened her eyes to find herself standing in a conference room aboard a gleaming 304-class vessel—the *George Hammond*, if the plaque on the bulkhead was correct. A young Marine stood opposite her, rifle held at low ready, expression carefully neutral.

“Is that you, Chloe?” the Marine asked.

Before she could answer, the Marine touched a wall panel. “General. She’s here.”

The door slid open. General Jack O’Neill stepped through, glanced at his watch, and gave a small, tired smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“That’s pretty accurate,” he said. “Another egghead. Oh well.”

Chloe’s borrowed heart was pounding. “General O’Neill? What’s going on?”

O’Neill studied the face she wore for a long moment, then shrugged as if the strangeness of the stones still managed to surprise him after all these years.

“You’re Chloe Armstrong?” He shook his head once. “I’ll never get used to this. Stones thing.”

She opened her mouth to ask the thousand questions that had been waiting in the dark for three years—but the look on O’Neill’s face stopped her. Something had changed on Earth. Something large enough that the General of the entire Stargate program had been waiting, stopwatch in hand, for a single young woman to wake up light-years away and touch a stone.

Behind her borrowed eyes, Chloe felt the first cold trickle of fear.

Outside the *George Hammond*’s hull, the stars of the Milky Way turned slowly. And far beyond them, in the silent dark between galaxies, Destiny continued her long approach toward a river of unknown suns, carrying eighty frozen souls and one young woman whose mind was no longer entirely her own.