Star Trek: Buck To The Future

[treschaschott]

Historical Footnote
In a conscious effort to move beyond the life he knew he could never return to, Buck focused on the shuttle flight. He replayed the skirmish in his mind, the tactics they used, the limits of their flight envelopes, and the moments after leaping into the unknown. He remembered twisting midair, watching the excavation site disappear into a massive fireball before dropping into the crater he assumed had formed from the shuttle’s impact.

The door slid open with a rumbling thud.

A woman entered carrying a straight posture and sharp eyes, the kind of presence that commanded attention without needing to speak. Like the others, her uniform was dark, almost black, with a faint blue undertone that caught the light when she entered. Silver piping edged her shoulders and cuffs, quiet but authoritative. A seven-sided silver badge rested over her chest, encircling two planetary forms locked in an infinite orbit.

Three silver heptagons marked her collar, two solid and one black. Her appearance was precise and intentional, and her boots showed the wear of someone who spent as much time in the field as she did behind a desk.

Her hair was blonde, pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, not a strand out of place. Her face was calm but unreadable, her eyes the color of blue ice, and she was just as patient. She wasn’t tall, but she carried herself like someone who knew how to end a fight before it started.

“You know who you look like,” she said without preamble. “I mean, exactly like.”

Buck didn’t blink. “Myself?”

She folded her arms. “You got a name?”

“Rogers. Buck. Lieutenant. United States Air Force. Serial number AF 2265-0317.”

Her eyebrows twitched. “Okay. That’s better than most.”

“Most what? Imposters?”

She sighed. “The other three jumpers we’re holding are wearing homemade costumes. Yours matches the statue.”

Buck raised a brow. “There’s a statue?”

“Don’t act surprised. You passed it on the way in.”

She eyed him again. “The boots are impressive. Synthesized, not replicated. A pattern I haven’t seen before. Except on that statue out there.”

He nodded. “They are impressively comfortable.”

“You’re the only Sovereignty Day fanatic I’ve seen this week who got the clothes right, the translator’s dent right, and the boots. Those are impressively accurate boots.”

“Sovereignty Day,” Buck repeated, raising his eyes to hers.

“Sorry,” he said, tapping his translator. “This one is not a fake. It’s the real deal. Did I hear that right? Sovereignty Day? What’s Sovereignty Day?”

The woman stared at him for a long moment, then sighed.

“It’s a local holiday,” she explained. “And every year, like you, a bunch of daredevils try to jump into the crater dressed like Buck Rogers. The real Buck Rogers. Usually, the ones who try to recreate his shuttle jump end up with a cracked skull, a broken arm, or sprained ankles. All of them get arrested. You? I watched the recordings. You stuck the landing. Parachute and all.”

“Hard to do when the weather shield is active.”

“Lady,” Buck grumbled, looking down at the floor again, “the last thing I remember is slapping an emergency beam-out token on President Dering’s chest. After I set the autopilot to crash into the Disintegrator dig site, I jumped out of the cargo hold and nearly went splat inside a crater made of glass. Now you’re telling me I got arrested for cosplaying as myself, and somehow, after everything I’ve been through these past two days, I’ve become a historical footnote.”

He looked up again, his frustration beginning to burn through the edges of his calm.

“An hour ago, I was two hundred and sixty years late for a date with someone who was starting to feel like more than a friend with benefits. And now I’m at least another hundred years away from her and the life I knew. Do you really think your bad attitude, or anything you say or do, is going to make me feel any worse?”

“Captain Barrett,” a male guard interrupted, passing her a tablet as he advised, “You may want to look at this.”

“Barrett,” Buck chuckled.

“One hundred forty-five,” she said while scanning the tablet, “It’s been 145 years since the hero of Antheia saved the planet.”

“It’s like I’m in a dream that keeps repeating itself,” Buck mumbled, “Barrett was the name of the guy I broke out of prison to take me to President Dering. Maybe I’m in a coma, and this is all some sort of fever dream… yeah, that’s it. The hangar explosion… I’m not traveling through time and across the universe… I’m in a coma somewhere, or maybe on the edge of death, and the lack of oxygen to my brain has created this delusion.”

“You can prep the others for release; this one may be staying a while,” Captain Barrett directed as she returned the tablet.

She watched over her shoulder until the guard was out of hearing range.

Barrett crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe before she explained. “There are not many who know the Federation transported Dering out of the shuttle before it impacted the dig site. Very few, in fact. If you want to get out of here, then tell me something only the real Buck Rogers would know.”

Buck leaned back slightly on the bench. “Like what? How Barrett, your namesake, and his girlfriend were part of President Dering’s inner circle? Or maybe you want me to explain why they took Leera Dering with them to capture the relay tower by the lake? Or would you prefer I regale you with the details of how I had Barrett, the first Barrett I met, transported to the Enterprise to meet Captain Pike so he would believe me, just like I’m trying to get you to believe me?”

Barrett’s eyes froze, and for a moment, her breathing stopped.

Buck kept his gaze steady. “Any of that what you want to hear?”

She didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, she quietly whispered, “That part about the Pike and the Enterprise… that’s a family secret. The Federation never acknowledged their involvement before Leera broadcasted her request for assistance or the details of the Romulan invasion force.”

“I know, I was there… so,” Buck nodded toward her, “Was the Barrett I met your great-grandfather or your great-great?”

“Great-great,” she muttered, “Darelle Barrett.”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask if Barrett was his first or last name,” Buck replied, “Was the woman he was with your great-great-grandmother?”

“Myrna,” Captain Barrett nodded, “Yeah… she was. I was named after both of them, “Daryna.”

“Well,” Buck grinned, naturally slipping into flirting mode, “It’s nice to meet you, Daryna. Please, call me Buck.”

Daryna exhaled slowly, the resistance leaving her posture. “You realize what you’re saying is impossible.”

“Pretty sure that statue outside and me sitting here talking about you and your secret family history says otherwise.” Buck chortled.

“And the cross-match on your bio-scans,” she nodded, eyes distant.

Her face lept up, her eyes locked on his, “We need to get you out of here… now.”

“Don’t move,” she ordered, “I’ll be right back.”

Daryna rushed around the corner, and Buck could hear her boots smacking the corridor floor. A long few minutes later, she returned.

“Sorry,” she apologized as she secured his wrists with magnetic cuffs, “These are just for show. I’ll take them off soon, promise.”

Daryna led Buck down the hall with a firm hand on his arm. As they turned a corner, the same three Buck Rogers impersonators he had seen earlier came into view, lined up near the exit. One was fiddling with his cuffs around the bandage on his arm, another slouched like he had done this before, and the third stood tall, eyes narrowing as Buck approached.

“Nice job,” the third one nodded. “Ya nailed the boots. Where did you find them?”

Buck gave a half-shrug but said nothing.

“They told us we’d be let go,” the tall one grumbled.

“You will,” Daryna replied flatly. “Just not here.”

Outside, a wheelless transport vehicle waited at the curb. It reminded Buck of a cross between an armored bank truck and a shuttle van, only sleeker, heavier, and silently floating a couple of feet above the tarmac.

All four men were loaded into the rear compartment. Two bench seats along the cushioned walls. Once inside, the doors closed behind them with a metallic thud. Buck felt the vehicle rise, then accelerate in a smooth, stomach-shifting motion.

For more than a few minutes, the four men bounced slightly with every subtle jolt. The one with the bandaged arm finally spoke.

“I knew this was a bad idea.”

Another leaned his head back. “The same thing happened last year. They’ll release us near a transit hub or in a market district. Apparently, nobody wants a bunch of Bucks near Roger’s Landing on Sovereignty Day. Makes the vendors nervous. Bad for business, they say.”

Buck stayed silent, marveling at the other versions of himself, amazed by the level of effort they had put into looking like him until the vehicle slowed and touched down with a quiet hum.

A few long moments later, the rear doors opened.

Daryna stood outside, overhead lights casting her shadow across the opening.

As the driver released the three others from their restraints, Daryna directed, “You’re free to go. Don’t show up dressed like that again. Better yet, don’t show up at all.”

The impersonators scattered fast, disappearing into a rain-drenched outdoor market without so much as a backward glance.

“I’ve got this one,” Daryna told the driver, “You can head back now.”

She then turned to Buck, keeping his cuffs on. “This way.”

She guided him through the back entrance of a different police station. Smaller and plainer than the last one. Inside, a bored-looking officer sat behind a desk. He barely looked up as they entered.

“I need access to your transporter,” Daryna commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

The officer blinked, then straightened when he saw her rank.

“I’ll need to verify your credentials, ma’am,” he stammered.

She placed her hand on a flat glass plate. It hummed, then beeped.

He nodded and stepped aside, motioning toward the three-person transport chamber.

The small station shimmered. Buck felt the gut pull he was starting to associate with transport. The air shifted around him and through him, first cool, then warm, then settling at room temperature.

They rematerialized in what looked like a hotel lobby. The air smelled like flowers and filtered ozone. There were plants, clean tiles, a reception desk with no receptionist, and several low tables with comfortable chairs and couches surrounding them.

Buck glanced around. “Why does that always make my teeth itch?”

“You get used to it,” Daryna commented, pulling Buck from the six-person transport chamber they had arrived in

She turned and released the cuffs from his wrists just as he asked, “Where are we?”

“My place,” she replied. “I live on the top floor. It’s one of the older buildings in this part of New Chicago, but it’s got a great view.”

“Older?” Buck muttered, twisting around to admire what to him was an ultra-modern aesthetic.

“This way,” she said, motioning for him to follow.

Around the corner, in what looked like an elevator alcove and a side entrance to the building, a turbo lift waited. Inside, Daryna placed her hand on the actuator. It lit up in recognition, and the doors slid shut without a sound, already knowing where to take her.

Buck leaned back against the wall, just along for the ride.

“By the way,” she said as the lights beyond the walls flashed by while she fumbled with the magnetic cuffs, “you’re not a historical footnote.”

She looked up, her blue eyes sparkling as she professed, “You are history, Buck. A living legend… and that could be a problem.”

 

[treschaschott]

Armageddon
Daryna’s palm opened the door to her living space, allowing the soft lighting of her apartment to spill into the hallway. The space was generous by Buck’s 21st Century standards: two bedrooms, a sleek kitchen alcove, and a central living area arranged with comfort in mind rather than formality.

All around him, in nooks and on shelves, digital pictures cycled through her family’s past. Some feature familiar faces. Buck noticed one that looked like a well-aged Leera Dering, her hair silver and eyes tired but warm embracing who Buck assumed was a very young Daryna celebrating a birthday or some similar event.

“Is that?”

“Leera Dering,” Daryna confirmed, the cuffs tumping on what Buck assumed was a kitchen table.

“Our families stayed close after,” she stated wistfully, “Even today, the Dering’s great-great-granddaughter is as close to a sister as I could ever hope for.”

“When?” Buck stammered a utterance.

“Leera lived long enough to see her husband’s dream of unified and independent Antheia come true… but not quite long enough to see his life’s work expand to encompass the entire Aitherion System.”

Buck nodded silently.

He turned from the past, eyes tracking the rain as it streaked the floor-to-ceiling windows. The view beyond was stunning. From this height and angle, he could clearly see the market plaza below encircling the force field-shielded glassy bowl of the crater. The rain softened the skyline, but a few tall buildings pierced the mist. He recognized one or two of them from his flight with President Dering one hundred forty-five years earlier.

“The rain should let up after dark,” Daryna said as she crossed from the kitchen. With a fluid motion, her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window unpinned her bun, letting her gold hair fall in soft waves to the middle of her back. She popped the collar of her uniform, and it folded forward like a flap, revealing a muted red tunic beneath the navy-black jacket. She then removed the jacket and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair.

The shift was subtle, but Buck caught it in her reflected ghost image. The tension in her frame eased. The hard edges of her expression softened. For the first time since they met, she looked relaxed. Human.

Approaching Buck from behind, she said, “The shape and fused sediment within Roger’s Landing create a magnifying effect. Sometimes, you can see the streets of the cities on Chronos that have been built since your last visit. Terraforming has progressed to the point where you don’t need anything more than a respirator to go outside. Recently, there have even been reports of rain following the terminator.”

“You’ll see,” she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. “If you stay long enough to watch Chronos rise later. He’s not the same barren brother to Antheia he used to be.”

“You want something to drink?” she asked, turning away. “A real drink. Not Synthahol. I keep the good stuff hidden behind the bar.”

“Synthahol?” Buck turned to ask, confused.

“Fake booze,” she said as she disappeared behind the bar.

Almost echoing as she explained. “Tastes the same, doesn’t hit the same.”

She stood up, bringing out a heavy dark bottle and setting it on the bar, explaining, “Starfleet keeps it stocked so their officers can get buzzed and still report for duty ten minutes later. I only keep it because I’ve learned captains and first officers make better deals here than back at the station.”

“Deals?” Buck raised an eyebrow, moving closer to the bar.

“More like negotiated releases for crew caught acting like idiots on shore leave,” she smirked, twisting off the plug-like top.

She poured two fingers into a pair of low tumblers and passed one to him.

“Careful,” she warned, “This stuff’s older than both of us put together.”

“You,” Buck smirked, raising the glass to the light. “I doubt it’s older than me.”

He took a sip.

It burned. Deep. Warm.

And it was glorious.

Buck groaned slowly, appreciatively, “Smooth.”

Daryna’s voice was just as horse as she teased, “Can’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

Before he could take a second sip, a chime rang out.

Buck looked around, wondering what the noise meant.

“Don’t worry,” she said to Buck, setting her tumbler on the bar, “I invited some friend over to meet you.”

Buck’s face expressed concern as she turned toward the door, commanding, “Enter.”

The door slid open with a whisper of pressurized air. Two figures entered.

The first was an older, kind-eyed, hair-line receding man with a face Buck didn’t recognize but somehow trusted. The name came a moment later when Daryna introduced:

“This is Dr. Elias Huer,” she said. “Member of the Inner Council and one of the President’s Science Advisors.”

Buck’s brow lifted. “Elias… and Huer? Seriously?” Then, under his breath, “More evidence I’m dreaming or in a coma.”

“I don’t understand,” Huer replied, his expression puzzled.

Buck gave a dry smile and glanced down at the tumbler in his hand. He finished what remained, held his breath, and exhaled the burn.

“A month ago, my time, I was wrapping up the flight tests of the X-20 HUER. High-altitude Ultra-Endurance Reconnaissance Vehicle. That was in 2025. And you show up, here and now, with the same name, as well as sharing Elias Dering’s name… it’s like someone is going out of their way to mess with my head.”

Huer nodded thoughtfully. “I can’t speak to your test vehicle’s acronym except to say someone clearly had good taste. And as for Elias… it was a popular name the year I was born. Has been since the man you knew as President Elias Dering passed.”

“And you don’t want to know how many Anthonys, Tonys, Bucks, Buckys, and Rogers you inspired,” Daryna added with a cynical but playful edge.

“I hope you can understand my disorientation,” Buck explained to Huer, setting the empty tumbler on the bar. “I’ve traveled through time twice in as many days. I thought meeting Barrett’s great-great-granddaughter was already stretching the limits of coincidence…”

His voice stopped.

The second figure, the one who had remained obscured behind Daryna and Huer until now, stepped into full view as the two women parted from a shared embrace.

Like a deer in headlights, Buck froze as his past slammed into the present.

She stepped forward in silence, the soft clack of her boots the only sound as she moved from Daryna’s side. Her attire was sharp and formal, dark green so deep it was nearly black, pressed to perfection with high shoulders and clean lines. On her collar, gold heptagon pips gleamed under the overhead lights, four solid shapes that stood out against the fabric of her stiff collar. The same seven-sided crest that Daryna wore was pinned above her chest. Yet, where Daryna’s was silver, hers gleamed gold, and it, too, surrounded two small planetary forms within an infinity symbol.

Her long dark hair was twisted into a perfect bun, not a strand out of place. Her face was angular but not harsh, with high cheekbones and a steady, calm expression that gave her an air of natural command. Her skin was fair, her posture composed, and every movement was precise.

But it was her eyes that stopped him.

Buck’s breath caught.

“Mina?”

“Who’s Mina?” Daryna questioned. “This is my almost sister. Colonel Wilma Dering. Great-great-granddaughter of Elias and Leera Dering.”

Buck staggered a half-step and scanned her face. The cheekbones. The half-smile. The way she stood, her weight slightly favoring her left. It was Mina. Or her ghost. Or some reflected memory his oxygen-deprived brain had conjured before dying in a past he never truly left.

“You’re the spitting image of her,” he whispered.

“Who?” Wilma asked. “Leera Dering?”

“Wilhelmina D’Aire,” Buck said quietly. “She preferred Mina. She was… special to me. But like everyone else I used to know, she’s gone. Even further away than yesterday.”

“Wilhelmina,” Daryna whispered, turning to Wilma with a teasing smile. “That’s the name Granny Leera used to call you, isn’t it?”

Wilma gave Daryna a sidelong look but didn’t argue.

“I could use another drink,” Buck muttered as he took a step back. His legs found a chair, and he sank into it as the weight of two centuries finally caught up with him.

“Sure,” Daryna replied, her tone concerned. She glanced at Huer, then Wilma, before turning back to the bar.

By the time Daryna returned with a refill of Buck’s drink, Wilma and Huer had made themselves comfortable in the apartment’s living space.

Buck downed the contents almost the moment Daryna’s fingers released the glass tumbler.

Buck bowed his head, eyes closed, letting the burn trail down his throat. The empty tumbler spun slowly in his fingers while the others watched him work through whatever mental gymnastics he needed to re-center himself.

Buck’s horse voice hissed as he stared through the empty tumbler at the floor beyond, “I need a distraction… tell me what I missed… after the shuttle impacted the dig site… that part I saw. I know it exploded… what happened after that?”

Daryna spoke first, her voice steady but thoughtful. “After the people of Antheia realized the Romulans had nearly invaded a second time, there was chaos, but there was also a shared vision for our future. What you did… defeating the Romulan invasion force, exposing Kane, and saving Dering became the fuel that reignited a spark of hope the Romulans and Kane could not extinguish. Your heroics started a fire that still burns today.”

Wilma continued. “The Enterprise heard Leera Dering’s plea for help, received the proof that Kane’s authority was not legitimate, and they stepped in, warning off the Romulans. Unfortunately, there were still a lot of hard feelings toward the Federation, especially regarding some of their policies that reflected Earth’s unwillingness to defend us during their war with the Romulans.”

“Antheia never formally joined the Federation, and our history still bears the scars of life under Romulan rule,” Huer said. “After you embarrassed them by destroying several of their ships, including a cruiser carrying an unarmed relic from Antheia’s colonization era, their response was far from subtle. Romulan media stated, clearly and without apology, that if Antheia joined the Federation, they would consider it an act of war. The Romulan Praetor promised his people they would assume full military oversight of our world in order to preserve what they call the integrity of the Empire.

“President Dering negotiated an agreement with both sides,” Wilma said, a glint of pride in her eyes. “Antheia agreed to remain neutral and accept dual status as both a Federation Protectorate and a Romulan free-trade zone; in exchange, both sides would recognize the Sovereignty and independence of Antheia and the Aitherion System.”

“Sovereignty Day,” Buck nodded.

“Exactly,” Huer confirmed. “The Romulan Praetor got the technological and agricultural trade their economy needed, the Federation gained an undisputed presence in a region, and both gained a trade corridor through the Neutral Zone, and Antheia’s independence was guaranteed by what has become known as the Aitherion Corridor Compact.”

“And,” Wilma added, “after the Compact was in place, Antheia became a common neutral ground for future Federation and Romulan negotiations. Unfortunately, as a recognized duty-free port, the influx of trade brought more than just goods. It attracted smugglers, pirates, and raiders. Neither the Federation nor the Romulans wanted to deal with what they considered our problem, so both sides agreed to allow the Antheian Ministry of Defense to patrol and protect not only the Aitherion System but also sections of the inner core regions that were beyond their immediate concern.”

“Under my great-great-grandfather,” Wilma said with undisguised pride, “Antheia came together in a way it hadn’t since the first colony ships left Earth. The mining co-ops on Chronos joined the Compact as soon as they were signed and later when new settlements were founded on the moons of Nyx, Khione, and Poseidon. The entire Aitherion System unified under Elias Dering’s framework.”

Daryna set her glass down and leaned forward slightly. “Everything changed about twenty years ago. The Romulan Empire collapsed after their star was discovered to be on the verge of going nova. Billions of citizens were displaced when the entire Romulus/Remus system was abandoned. The old imperial government fell, replaced by a Romulan Free State, but it was too little, too late for most of their people.”

She glanced at Buck. “Antheia and parts of the Aitherion System became one of the first places the refugees turned to. Our proximity, our neutrality, and our open trade status made us a lifeline. Evacuation ships arrived by the thousands, and not all of them were carrying peaceful passengers. Unlike the Fenris Rangers, our Defense Ministry was officially recognized by both the Federation and the Free State. We were granted authority to enforce order in the growing chaos spreading through nearby lawless regions when the Federation pulled back its evacuation efforts.”

Wilma gave a small, knowing nod. “The Aitherion Defense Ministry’s jurisdiction tripled almost overnight. New outposts, trade corridors, convoys, planetary defenses. Our charter stopped being about patrolling and protecting just the Aitherion System. It became about being a stabilizing presence for light-years in every direction.”

“A situation made worse now that the Federation has pulled back,” Daryna grumbled. “They abandoned their efforts to aid the Romulan Free State, suffered a series of embarrassing losses, and then retreated, claiming they were reassessing their mission objectives.”

“Despite all of our challenges,” Huer said, his voice steady and professional, “whenever we stumble, whenever Antheians are forced to reach beyond what we thought possible, someone always reminds us of the sacrifice made by one man. Lieutenant Anthony ‘Buck’ Rogers. A stranger from another time who appeared when we needed him most and united our world and our people by doing the right thing for the right reasons.”

“Told you you weren’t just a footnote,” Daryna snickered, then leaned over and picked up the tablet beside her as it beeped softly.

“A footnote,” Huer disagreed, “Not at all… a beacon. The light at the end of a tunnel… an idea following an ideal.”

“I’m no hero. No legacy. No one’s savior,” Buck said quietly. “I’m almost four hundred years from home… four hundred years from my family, my friends, my life, and someone I should have spent more time with than I did.”

“Which makes it so difficult for us to ask you to make another sacrifice on our behalf,” Wilma said, her voice carrying that frustrating familiarity Buck still couldn’t separate from Mina.

Daryna was not subtle when she insisted. “You need to get off-world. Now.”

She turned the tablet she had been reviewing to face the others. “The scans we took when Buck was arrested leaked faster than I expected. I swapped Buck’s scans with one of the other Jumpers, but it seems Senator Ardala is already at the station, demanding to meet the real Buck Rogers.”

“Who’s that?” Buck asked.

“Kane’s granddaughter,” Wilma replied. “She opposes everything the people of Antheia have fought to build. She wants to close our borders, end the free trade zone, raise tariffs on all goods moving through the system, and sever diplomatic ties with the Federation.”

“Granddaughter?” Buck echoed, confused.

“We suspected you would return one day,” Huer explained. “Much the same way Kilor Kane reappeared fifty years ago. But unlike you, dropping from the sky above Roger’s Landing, he emerged beneath the crater, inside the caverns near the old subway.”

“No one recorded his return like we did your landing,” Daryna added. “It wasn’t until years later, when Ardala began rising through the ranks of local politics, that the Defense Ministry uncovered her true lineage. When we found Kane living under an assumed name, we arrested Ardala’s grandfather.”

“Former Chancellor Kilor Kane died in prison ten years ago,” Wilma confirmed. “As a representative of the Dering family, I was there. I verified his identity myself. Pulled the blood samples and matched them to archived military records from before your first arrival on Antheia.”

“So,” Buck nodded, starting to understand, “you’re worried she’ll use me to push her agenda.”

“She has,” Wilma hesitated, “a particularly effective way of influencing men, and some women, to do what she wants.”

“That’s putting it nicely,” Daryna huffed, rising to her feet. “I can’t stall her much longer. It won’t take her people long to trace my transport logs and see I brought one of the crater jumpers here. They’ll be looking for the wrong one, but it won’t take them long to figure out the switch.”

“Buck,” Huer said, rising to his feet, “this is your choice. You can come with Wilma and me, and we’ll arrange for you to emigrate to the Federation. We can get you back to Earth, where Ardala won’t be able to use you or the legacy you represent here on Antheia.”

He paused, his voice dropping.

“Or, you can stay here and meet the granddaughter of the man who spent the rest of his life waiting for your return, hoping to take his revenge. A curse I suspect he passed down to his son and his granddaughter.”

“Senator Ardala has been targeting the Defense Ministry since the day we locked up her grandfather,” Daryna added. “I can stall her, misdirect her, to a point. And I won’t lie, I’ll enjoy slowing her down. But I can’t prevent her from finding you if you stay on Antheia.”

Buck stood, his decision already made. “When do we leave?”

Wilma gave Daryna a grateful look. “Thank you. I’ll let you know when he’s safe.”

They embraced, familiar and close.

“I’ll buy you as much time as I can,” Daryna whispered. “It might cost me my rank, maybe even my job, but it’ll be worth it to knock Ardala down a peg or two.”

Then she turned to Buck and pulled him into a hug. “Don’t be a stranger, Buck. You’re the only living legend I know. And if I ever manage to arrest Ardala for the crimes I know she and her father are committing, maybe you can come back and stay awhile.”

“Only if I stop bouncing through time,” Buck replied, holding her tight for a beat longer before stepping back.

“Now what?” he turned, asking Dr. Huer.

Wilma tapped the gold insignia on her chest. “Dering to Armageddon. Three to beam up.”

“Welcome to the 25th Century, Buck,” Huer smirked as the transporter shimmer built around them.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this…” Buck’s voice faded.

 

[treschaschott]