Midway through Season 1 I had studied (wore out) my recordings of 'The Orville' in hopes of learning enough to craft a credible story, and then to find a setting in which to place it. I have set this work roughly between Episodes 10 & 11 and the crew is in the 6th month of their journey. The Fears with which Alara must deal are still in their future.
This is a work of Fiction. 'The Orville' is owned by Seth McFarlane and his associates in appropriate order. I make no money on this work and only Original Characters not seen in the series are mine, characters such as

Lalaíth
by JMK758
Chapter One
Call to Malmoria

Space, when not observed by specialized instruments or seen in transit through the wonders of Quantum Drive, is placid. Soundless and eternal, it paints pictures of multi-hued grandeur that belie the works of mites that seek to move through it in their tiny concerns.

One such mite, distinguished from others by 'ECV-197 Orville' painted on its port side primary hull, is one of over three thousand mighty space going vessels that represent the 'Planetary Union', mighty to itself yet not so to the limitless expanse of space.

But today the Orville, though traversing the starry decked heavens at a 'space normal' pace of tens of thousands of kilometers per second, does not appear, to the vantage of its crew, to be moving at all. Space is so vast that no speed below that imparted by its Quantum Drive is fast enough to affect the serene stillness of eternity.

On the bridge, wide, white and seemingly vast compared to other ships of lesser cast, the stillness on the huge forward monitor does not suggest calm so much as

"Is anyone else sick of sitting here?"

Isaac, the AI Science Officer seated at the starboard Science Station, turns left to the frustrated orange and black uniformed Helmsman. "The Orville is not stationary, Lieutenant." An artificial construct of the machine society of Kaylon 1, the faceless android is typically literal. Though its stated duty is to learn, understand and bring back to its world the essence of humanity, it frequently falls short of so lofty a goal. "Its current pace is eighty four thousand four hundred sixty two point four three seven five kilometers per Earth second on a course of –"

"I got your course," Navigator John LaMarr, seated left of his impatient partner Gordon Malloy, gripes at his mechanical crew mate. He looks right and back to the bridge's center where the Captain and First Officer, their uniform jackets blue for Command, sit conversing in quiet tones that probably have too much humor in them already.

"Don't try to bring me into this," Captain Edward Mercer, seated at the starboard side of the Command pair, advises. His smile is three quarters amusement coupled with one quarter warning.

At his left First Officer Kelly Grayson seconds the recommendation.

x

Isaac, however, is not yet finished. "This speed is considered optimal for Chief Engineer Newton to make certain that–"

"no moss grows on my butt."

Helmsman Malloy, with his Irish humor up and despite his impatience, can always be counted upon to ease stress with wit, usually of the most prosaic kind.

The pace is necessary, however. Two hours after a space battle destined to go into history as 'to be forgotten' Lt. Cdr. Steven Newton had come to Mercer with a lengthy list of adjustments that must be made to the engines, the result of wear and damage caused by the brief yet dramatic skirmish with the Krill.

Ever since the confrontation centered around the Ankhana, the central book to the Krill religion / culture, relations between the two races have soured further rather than improving as Union Central had hoped. True, they have the document, an impressively large and comprehensive tome, but without the context and understanding of nuances and cultural perspective the document is as useful as a human Bible would be to the Krill - not at all.

In fact, the capture of an intact Cruiser had done more to increase the Union's understanding of the Krill, though not in the areas of philosophy and sociology.

This most recent clash had been unimpressive, the unadvised drawing of a Scout upon the Union Starship. Mercer had restrained their response, hoping ineffectually that diplomacy could win the day. He hadn't wanted to play the Philistine in this David v. Goliath conflict but the Krill would not be put off.

The attacker's determination had ultimately sealed their fate, one vastly different from that Earthly confrontation.

x

The Krill had managed to get in a few smacks against the many times larger and more powerful vessel, managing to inflict minor damage which could not be repaired under full speed. The sublight drive also needs adjustments that cannot be made with the ship at station keeping.

However, as Orville presently has no place it must rush to with any particular urgency, a true divergence from what has become the norm, Mercer had ordered the ship four parsecs from that area lest the infant have a big brother around and then ordered the near crawl, for any space normal speed appears to be a stop against the backdrop of stars quadrillions of kilometers distant.

That had been four plus hours ago, plenty of time for contemplating the heavens – or the heavenly features of Kelly Grayson at his left or the scarlet uniformed Xelayan Lieutenant Alara Kitan seated beyond her.

Or for his Navigator to get antsy.

Blue and black uniformed Commander Grayson, though seated but two feet away, leans an inch right and whispers "How long did Newton say it will last?"

Mercer glances at the bridge chronometer. "Another forty five minutes," he says as quietly. He doesn't mind, the forward view is almost as captivating as the women to his left.

Kelly glances forward, then shares with her chief that "Gordon's going to start chewing his board in thirty."

x

Lt. Kitan, at the port side forward Communications station, turns to the officers in the center seats, her manner distinctly more alert than her fellows'. "Captain, Admiral Halsey on Priority Channel."

The glance Mercer and Grayson exchange is a silent quip that it 'must be important', a certainty when that frequency is used. "Sounds like Mr. Nelson had better be finished with his fine tuning. On the screen, Alara." A few touches of controls and the huge wraparound forward viewscreen is dominated by the Ultrawave image of the gray haired Admiral, his purple jacket and five gold starred epaulets shining in the sunlight from the window that spans the left wall and offers a stupendous view of New York. On the wood paneled wall behind him is an enlarged silver representation of the Planetary Union Central crest.

"What can we do for you, Admiral?"

"Captain, I have bad news. I'm glad to catch you on the bridge, it'll save the time over repeating this but please summon your CMO. We're going to need her too."

Mercer glances left to Kitan to confirm the call has gone out at the first mention of the woman. It will take only moments for Chief Medical Officer Claire Finn to reach the bridge.

Blue/black uniformed Lt. Cmdr. Bortus, seated at port side Operations one station further aft of Kitan, is alert. As Second Officer, the Moclan is responsible for seeing the ship is ready for all contingencies, most especially battle. "I have informed Lieutenant Commander Newton that we will accelerate to full speed immediately," he announces, his basso profundo voice cutting through all other sound.

"What did he say?"

Bortus glances right to the forward screen before resuming his report to his chief. "I do not believe you want me to report that with the Admiral on the open line."

"Never mind, we'll be ready." To the view dominating screen and the Admiral's slight smile even in the tension: "Sir, what does this involve?"

His gaze shifts right for a moment. "Lt. Kitan, I am sorry but this affects you most severely." It only took that brief segue for green uniformed Claire Finn, at a respectable pace, to pass the wide main door already open behind them. She has seen and heard Halsey's caveat and takes a place to the right of Command.

x

"There is no gentle way to say this. Two Earth days ago a seismic disturbance of Richter magnitude 10 hit Xelaya's island continent of Malmoria." In his brief glance to his Chief of Security Mercer reads unguarded distress between that sentence and what follows.

"As you may know, Captain, Xelaya is over nine times as large as Earth but Malmoria is correspondingly as large as Earth's Australia, occupying a similar percentage of the planet, maybe even a bit more and situated in the northern hemisphere. The initial magnitude 10 tremor lasted for 103 seconds, an exceptionally long period, and since then there have been two significant aftershocks, magnitude 9.83 for 79 seconds and 9.69 for 58, collectively 240 seconds. There were also numerous aftershocks of gradually diminishing severity that lasted another half of a Xelayan day.

"The last tremors on that continent were over six hundred years ago. The tectonic plates were considered to be a 'dead fault'."

There's not much more that need be said, yet he gives the men and women time to absorb the impact of the mental picture. It has probably been centuries since anyone built to withstand even a minor trembler, explaining the extent of devastation. Additionally, it now seems that the quiet was actually hiding a steady buildup of stress that finally came blasting out on one horrific day.

"The epicenter was nearly dead center of the continent but even at the shores the initial quake registered 3.4."

x

Mercer feels blood drop from his face. A 'normal' quake of such massive force such as might be expected on Earth has a devastation zone a few score kilometers across, falling off as distances increase. To be 3.4 over a thousand kilometers away, this verbal picture is almost beyond imagining but Halsey is not finished.

"Since it is a huge island continent the coastline was subjected to tsunami that came in from all sides, waves reaching to 84 meters. The coastline was devastated by waves covering 8% of the continent. It's estimated it'll take more than a week for the main volume of water to withdraw, leaving an unknowable volume behind. There is no figure of the number lost along the surrounding coastline."

x

No one speaks, all gazes even against will turned to the red uniformed Security Chief as first shock and then worse emotions flood across her normally pale features, her white face drained of blood. "Ad –" she tries, but when she can get the words out they come as a whisper. "Admiral, how man – many?"

His words are soft but no tone can ease the horror. "Last word we have is one hundred fifteen million dead, a hundred seven million injured. We have no confirmed figures, as I said, on those lost inland and nothing at all for the coastlines."

Mercer sees Kitan no longer breathing, her face chalk white. Newton had better be finished. "Admiral, the Orville stands ready to assist. We can be at Xelaya in..."

Lt. John LaMarr knows the pause is making room for him. He's already calculated the figure and he would rip out his throat rather than say "If we rip the hell out of Newton's repairs, two point eight seven days."

Mercer's expression is locked but LaMarr sees he's ripped Alara's heart out of her chest.

x

"Captain, humanitarian efforts are being coordinated by the Union and resources in the sector. You are needed in another capacity."

"Whatever we can do, Admiral."

"The capital city of Quintaru is leveled. The government of Malmoria is a dynastic monarchy, established as such in a time when it was one of three nations so organized and the entire ruling family is among the seventeen million causalities in that city. There is no one to organize either the government response to this tragedy or operations afterward, and the pervasive nature of the monarchy results in no parallel structure of responsibility. The government has virtually come to a standstill. What had been a unified government is reduced to local bodies with no communication, coordination or supplies.

"It had never been foreseen that the entire Line of Succession would be killed at once. The political and social order is fractured but there is someone who can stabilize it."

"You're not calling to tell us," Helmsman Gordon Malloy quips in an effort to counter the horrific, "that our Alara is now the new Queen."

"Gordon." Mercer's level tone declares that this effort is neither successful nor appropriate.

"Sorry, sir. Sorry, Alara." His glance left drives home the guilt in the devastation etched upon her face.

"The family does have one survivor," Halsey says from the huge screen. "Eight years ago the 6th in line for the..." he consults a data unit on his desk, "albiatros, the throne."

"Albitras," Alara says, but the correction sounds automatic.

"Yes, albitras, thank you. Zarín Kiernán left, reportedly because he was 6th in line and unlikely to rule. He and his wife settled on Raquiel," he says, pronouncing it Ra-keel, "a world of similar proportions to Xelaya in gravity and atmosphere. Hardly an exact match, slightly smaller in fact, but close enough." Meaning it's less than 9.22 times the size and mass of Earth, manageable with care but none of the crew is going to do handsprings there. Well, except Kitan.

"John?"

"Much better, Captain. At top safe speed we can be there in 18.4 hours, ship's time eleven sixteen. A direct route from there to Xelaya you're looking at 30.6 hours."

Not much different in total time but with much greater benefit. If they can get word to the beleaguered people that the boss is on his way within 30, and even better if he can issue the orders to do what must be done, it will do far more for the people than one additional rescue ship can.

"Set course for Raquiel and gun it."

"Gunning it, Captain," Mallory declares. Five seconds later on the screen around the Admiral's image the stars leap at and past them.

x

Mercer looks to Finn at his right. She already knows his mind. "We can adapt the Pressure chamber, though a day and a quarter won't be fun. We could put him into Quarters, that would be possible, but since Xelaya's atmosphere at sea level is 9.3 times that of Earth, 136.71 pounds per square inch –."

"Wow."

"Your air is too thin," Alara quips.

"An airlock would be a hell of a dicey thing if something goes wrong," Mercer says.

"To put it mildly," Finn says. "In our atmosphere, similar as it is to Xelaya, he would suffocate without a pressure suit. Of course if he travels in his own ship it'd be a simple Honor Guard escort."

"Captain, I strongly recommend that," Alara declares, sounding over the initial shock. "He cannot be prepared for the differences he'll experience here. It took me five months to acclimate to Earth, to breathe your thin air without gasping and wheezing, to jump out of bed at Reveille without cracking my skull on the overhead. Muscle memory takes a long time to relearn and I still get lightheaded when I work out." She never wants to repeat that early transition and would not wish it upon an enemy.

"On the contrary, Captain," Science Officer Isaac says, rotating his chair until his lighted 'eyes' are turned unnecessarily toward his commander, "Orville's individual sections are environmentally adjustable. The gravity plating can be set to up to 500% of Earth normal. While it will not reach the 922% the gentleman would be comfortable with, or even the Raquielian 874, he would experience slightly more than 1/2 of his natural condition."

"Wait," Alara demands and crosses the bridge to the mechanical officer. "What Did You Say?"

"On the contrary, Captain, the Orville's individual sections are environmentally adjustable." The inflection is identical. "The gravity plating can be set to up to 500% of Earth nor – "

"Like my Quarters? Like my Office?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. "

Alara looks about the bridge, lost and amazed and a number of darker emotions that leave her crewmates unwilling to say a word. She turns back to Isaac. "Why Didn't You Tell Me?"

"You have never enquired."

Stunned outrage steals her voice. She looks about again, then settles on Mercer.

"We'll set it up."

"Thank you."

Mercer returns his attention forward, regretting the segue while the channel to Earth is open. He won't hold the distraction against the over-stressed woman but he appreciates the Admiral's forbearance. "So. Go get this guy, bring him back home to stabilize the country. Consider it done, Admiral."

"Not exactly. Zarín Kiernán died ten months ago."

x

Mercer hopes his face hasn't fallen as far as it felt it had. "Sir, I don't understand."

"Lalaíth Kiernán is pregnant."

Good news suddenly sounds very bad. "But he died ten months ago?"

"Oh ohhhh," is John LaMarr's evaluation of their next problem.

"Captain," Alara, still near Isaac's station, says, snatching attention. Her complexion is normally pale compared to human but some of her color has come back. He suspects it's more from outrage than it is adjustment to the terrible situation. "The Xelayan gestation period is 11.2 Terrestrial months."

"Wow."

"It is a much lower number in our terms, 8.14 Xelayan months. Xelaya rotates on its axis in 37.7 Terrestrial hours, our week is different from yours as are our month and our year, that last very nearly twice yours but not as many days, the upshot being that 11.2 of your months is plenty of time to complete the muscular growth needed to allow the infant to live outside the womb."

Mercer turns right to his CMO. "How does the rate of growth compare to humans?"

"Comparable rate, Captain."

"So a Xelayan newborn is..." Malloy can't quite picture it.

"Analogous to a human three month old."

"Owww - weeeee." Grayson and Finn second Malloy's assessment.

"Xelayan labor is a formidable experience," Finn concludes.

Kitan only nods as she returns to her station. To her there is nothing unusual.

x

This gives Halsey a moment to regain attention. "Zarín Kiernán is dead but his widow Lalaíth carries the next leader of the Malmorian continent."

"Admiral, how close is she to giving birth."

"Well if you hurry, Dr. Finn might not have to open a Maternity Ward."

A look beside tells him the woman is confident in her team's ability to handle anything they might encounter. Given such vast differences in gravity and air pressure, he prays she's right. "We'll get it done, Admiral."

"Good luck."

The image disappears, replaced by the racing star field.

x

"Alara, how much do you know about the government and conditions in Malmoria?"

"About as much as you do about your Australia." She reins back on her feelings. "Sir."

"Put together a Briefing for one hour. Dismissed."
Kitan nods and leaves her station, exits through the wide rear of the bridge. Her quarters are port side a few meters down the main corridor.

A glance between Grayson and Mercer confirms matching evaluations: the best thing for the woman now is work - and privacy.