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Chapter Text

The last thing Ashford remembered was the heat.

After the captain had briefed the team, Commander Giotto sent him down to the 23rd level of Janus VI to find and, possibly stop the so-called monster attacking the miners there.  He foolishly went down a passage alone, ignoring the suggestion to buddy up with Ensign Dae.  He slowly looked around, scanning in the dim light when he heard a rumbling, close and seemingly out of nowhere.  Before he could even fire, the creature was upon him.

The heat, though.  Enough to turn a man to ashes.

So why was he breathing?

He got up and brushed off his knees and looked around.  He absently moved toward his holster, but his phaser was missing.  

“You’re not going to need that right now,” a voice said.  The light was still dim, but seemed to brighten behind the silhouette of a man standing a short distance in front of him.

“Who’s there?” Ashford demanded.  “Where is this?  Is this Janus VI?”

“No,” the man replied.  “This is not Janus VI.”

“Well, who are you?”

“I’d like to say I’m a friend.  A relative, even,” the voice replied, which elicited a puzzled reaction from Ashford.  

“Relative?  Did Brad or Kait send you, buddy?”  He paused for a moment.  “Uncle Gene?”

“Don’t be frightened,” the man said, putting up his hands.  “I’m not going to hurt you, but you might not forgive me for what I have to do.”

“What did you do?” Ashford looked around him, to find some kind of clue to where he was, whether he was held captive, and whether there as an exit he could escape from.  The rest of the details could work themselves out.

The man’s reply hung in the air and sunk like a stone in Ash’s stomach.

“I saved you from death.”

“Wh-wh-?” Ash stammered.  He became suddenly aware of a pain on the back of his hand.  a nasty burn, red and blistered, was on his right hand.  

The creature he was looking for had killed using corrosive acid.

“But you pulled me away.”

The man nodded.  As he did, another male figure behind him walked up.

“We’re almost ready, Admiral,” he said.

“Thank you, Daniels,” the Admiral replied, and turned to Ashford.  “When you were at the Academy, you studied a phenomenon which occurred in the 2250s.  Does the phrase ‘Seven Signals’ mean anything to you?”

Ashford frowned and then brightened. “Yes!  they were some kind of strong temporal signals…but the conclusions were never declassified.  They never revealed it to us in class.  They left it to us to speculate.”

“What if I told you that time travel was involved?” The Admiral asked.

“Time…travel.  Is that what you did?  You pulled me out of my time?  Why?” Ashford demanded.

“It’s not about where you are now, but where we need you to go,” the Admiral said.  

“Admiral,” Daniels prompted.

“When the Seven Signal event wrapped up, there was a massive temporal shift,” the Admiral explained, nodding to Daniels.  who attached a small device on Ash’s chest.  “You’re going to follow it.”  He put a finger on the badge and called out, “Armor UP!”

Dark gray plates spread over Ashford’s body, techno-armor, shining, with a glowing visor covering his eyes.  A heads-up display appeared in Ashford’s vision, showing points of data that Ashford could not yet understand.  

“What is this?” he asked.  More and more, he felt like he was a puppet on a string, and he was only along for the ride.

“This is SilverHawk armor,” the Admiral explained.  “It’s Numenorean in nature—“

“Numen—that’s what my brother Brad is studying!” Ash exclaimed.  “So why me and not him?”

“History records you has having died at Janus VI,” the Admiral explained.  “Whereas Bradley Reid marries, has a child, who himself has a child, and so on, and so on, and so on.”

Ashford sighed.  “So you chose me because I’m expendable.  Brad carries the line on, and Kait has a career in Starfleet.  So it’s me.”

The Admiral nodded sadly.

From under the SilverHawk helmet, Ashford looked up at the Admiral.  “What do I have to do?”

“We’ve isolated the moment that Discovery makes the temporal jump.  From there, your armor is designed and programmed to follow in that temporal wake.  You must remain locked on it’s trajectory until it arrives at its destination.  From there you must make your way to a planet called Arda…Anor II.  There will be…you will find the descendants of Bradley and his family there.  They will help you reunite with Discovery and…”

The Admiral’s voice trailed off.  “And what?” Ash prompted.  

“To help them do what they were meant to do in that far-off time,” The Admiral replied.  

“Whenever you’re ready,” Daniels promoted once more.

“I am.  I’m ready,” Ashford said.

The Admiral nodded, and once again commanded Ashford’s armor.  “WING IT!”

Structures sprung from the armor’s back, in the form of silver wings.

“Temporal-spacial lock is maintained on Discovery,” a technician reported. “She’s about to go into temporal flux.”

“We need to pinpoint the exact moment,” Daniels told her.  “Timing is crucial.”

“Initiating temporal envelope around Grey Armor,” another tech said.

“We’ve got it!” the first tech exclaimed.  “Temporal lock is go!”

“Initiate shift,” Daniels told them.

Ashford seemed to brace for the shift, but before anyone could see, he was gone.  The room dimmed once more.

Daniels turned to the Admiral.  “How will we know if it works.  Temporal Prime Directive and all?”

The Admiral looked at Daniels with clear, blue, eagle-sharp eyes.  “Suffice it to say, Daniels, that someone will be looking after him in his journey in the strange new world he arrives in.”

It was the same thing the Admiral had said, long, long ago, to Captain Braxton, and would one day say to a young King of Gondor, to send him on his way to adventure. 

Chapter Text

“Come on, buddy, shove off.”

He peered over his folded arms, at the bartender glaring at him, the lights behind him causing him to squint.  

“Can’t…he was supposed to meet me here,” he told the bartender, a scowling Bolian, who rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry for your bad luck, but I gotta close up and get home before the perimeter closes up for the night.  So…?”

He got up, abruptly, causing the bartender to start, and move for the not-so-concealed weapon behind the bar.  

“ ‘M never getting offa this rock,” he grumbled, gathering his worn jacket around him.

“Not with that attitude,” the bartender scolded.  “Listen, it takes a lot to become a courier, and if you can’t make one score, you’re stuck.”

“What else am I gonna do?” He asked.  “My skill set’s a little bit behind the curve.”

“I’ve been telling you for weeks. Take my offer.  We’ll teach you how to mix drinks when you’re not watching the door.”

He scoffed and moved toward the exit.  

“Nobody else would have given you a second glance,” the Bolian called at him.  “You’re lucky I…”

He held up a golden badge in his hand.  

A delta shield from another time.

“You’re lucky I’m a true believer.”

“Yeah, well,” Ashford Reid said to the bartender.  “I guess that makes one of us.”

His hair was shaggy, covering his ears and nearly down to the base of his neck.

It had been a rough six months.  

He’d figured out the basics of what had happened, but it didn’t make it any easier.  

The Federation had died out.  

Something had happened that had destroyed most of the known quantities of dilithum.

And everyone who remained, were left distrustful of everyone else.  

Achagal, the Bolian who had taken him into his friendship, was one of the rare folks who remembered what the Federation used to be, and still believed in it.

A true believer.  

And the only way to get off of the planet he was on, a world called Nixis V, was to join the crew of a courier, or to become a courier themselves.  

But no one seemed to want to give him a chance.  

He’d given his Starfleet insignia to Achagal in gratitude for giving him a place, and his uniform was probably on its way to either a museum or a furnace, he wasn’t sure which.  

There was virtually no way back to Earth.  The planet was walled off from he rest of the quadrant, walled off from all other planets, with that same mistrust that permeated the entire galaxy.  

He missed his childhood home at the Reid Complex amongst the hills in South Carolina, with his siblings, Bradley and Kaitlin.

His father John, and his twin, Uncle Gene, who he visited at the Rigel Colonies. 

He was utterly alone.  Half a galaxy and 900 years away from anywhere he recognized.

As he moved to the exit, to transport away to the hostel he was staying at, Someone arrived.  With a flash of their personal transporter, they appeared at the entrance, arms wide.  

“Aw, frack me,” Achagal cursed.  “I almost made it home this time.  What do you want?”

The creature was a greenish-skinned alien, with bone-white hair swept back on his head, with a widow’s peak, which revealed a scar running down his forehead to his eyebrow, which was decorated with silver rings.  His eyes crinkled with confidence and a bit of mischief.  

He wore a vest, most likely shielded, considering the glowing indicators, and armbands circling his wiry biceps.  the hilt of a dagger was at his belt, in an old design. 

“Got an opening, and you said you had a bloke,” the alien said, with a shrug.

“What happened?” Achagal asked, as Ashford remained transfixed.  

“Ran afoul of a war chief in the Alpha Wastes,” the alien replied.   “They got stupid, they got dead.”

Before Achagal could fire a rejoinder, a device on the alien sounded a tone.  [I hate to interrupt, but I’m indicating technology on the gentleman next to you that is virtually ancient.  And you told me to tell you—]

“Fine, Tally, fine!” the alien exclaimed.  “Oi.  You.  What’s that yer’ packin’ then?”

Ash turned to the alien who smirked at him as he produced the device.  “It’s an-an old tricorder from the 23rd Century,” he said.  “My dad gave it to me—“

[Analysis indicates that the tricorder is in near-mint condition,] Tally reported.  [If I didn’t know better, I would say that this gentleman is some sort of time traveller.]

The alien turned to him.  “Well?  Temporal War took care of all that shite, so when did you jump over to this side, eh?”

“It was…” Ash struggled to remember the date, “Stardate 3196.”

The alien’s eyes widened, and moved toward him, peering into Ash’s eyes.  “Nine hundred years…”

[Nine hundred twenty-one years, to be exact,] Tally chimed in.

The alien scoffed.  “Don’t mind Tally-1,” he told Ash.  “Likes to be precise, he does.”

[Unlike you, you messy Uruk,] Tally retorted.

“Cheeky,” the Uruk chided.  “Well, is it you?  Looking to be a courier?” 

“Y-yeah,” Ash replied.  

“What’s your name?” The Uruk asked.

“Ashford.  Ashford Reid,” he replied.

And when he did, the Uruk took a step back.  “Reid…I knew a few o’ them in my time.  Back when I was just a dumb gobbo, cooling his heels at the Reid Complex…” he noticed Ashford’s gobsmacked expression, and leaned in.  “Don’t supposed you’re related to a Kaitlin, are ya?”

“Kait!”  Ashford nearly yelped.  “She was my sister!  You knew her?”

Achagal frowned.  “Wait.  How old are you, Rattie?”

Rattie pointed a finger at the Bolian.  “Old enough not to interrupt.” A sudden realization hit him. “You’re the one who died!”  He didn’t let Ash reply.  “That’s it.  Grab your stuff, you are most definitely coming with me!”

“What about the contract, and the finders’ fee?” Achagal protested.  “Ratbag, you owe me something for finding him!”

“Congratulations, you found a Starfleet officer!” Ratbag told Achagal.  “Rare as dilithium, they are.  Tell your kids the tale.  Seeya!” 

And with a double tap of a ring on his finger, the two of them flashed out of Achagal’s bar.  Cursing, he listened as a siren sounded, indicating that the perimeter had, indeed, closed for the night.

“Shit,” he cursed, looking out of the entrance.  “Looks like I’m sleeping in the back room again!”

On a ship awash in red, Ratbag and Ash walked down a corridor that looked riveted together.  

“What about the contract?” Ash asked him.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ratbag replied.  “I’m gonna make sure you’re all right.  I’ve made some promises in my day, and protecting folks with your last name was one of ‘em!”

“But why?” Ash asked.  “You sound like the guy who sent me here…Said he was an Admiral.”

“Crystal-blue eyes, like a hawk’s?” Ratbag asked.

Ash nodded.

“Oh, ho-ho,” the Uruk hooted.  “Ol’ Greyfeather’s up to something.  Can’t wait to find out what that is.”  He turned to Ashford.  “Don’t you worry about a thing.  We’ll get you certified as a courier, and we’ll make sure you get where you need to go.”

Ashford scoffed.  This was happening way too fast for him.  “And where’s that?”

Ratbag placed a gnarled hand on his shoulder.  

“We’ll find that out once the wind changes.”