by Neil Gaiman
Acacia and I stood there for a while, watching everyone move about below us. I still felt incomplete, somehow, like things hadn’t been entirely resolved. Like it was all so unfinished. I didn’t feel accomplished, like I had actually saved anyone. In the end, Joaquim had been the one to make the sacrifice that saved us, and I couldn’t give him the recognition he deserved for it.
“There’s Mom,” Acacia said finally, pointing. “And that’s my little sister with her.”
I looked where she indicated, picking out a dark-haired woman in a long coat standing with a clipboard in her hand. A younger girl stood next to her, something in her hands occasionally flashing white and lighting up her surroundings.
“Lead the way,” I said, though she wound up having to physically lead me, as trying to navigate the long stairway with only one working eye proved a lot more difficult than I’d thought. My depth perception was way off, and I took a few of the steps harder than I meant to by misjudging the distance. By the time we got to the bottom, my ribs were aching again from the jarring missteps.
“Mom,” Acacia called, and the woman turned. As expected, she looked a lot like an older Acacia; they had the same jaw, same nose, same violet eyes. Her hair was lighter, though, and her face was subtly different. Not her smile, though. Her smile was the same.
“Joseph Harker,” she said, tucking her clipboard under one arm and offering me her hand. I took it. Instead of shaking, she covered it with her other hand, the gesture surprisingly warm. I thought of my own mother, and swallowed.
“Hi,” I said, glancing down at the little girl peering around from behind her mother. She, also, bore a slight resemblance to Acacia.
“I’m Deana,” Acacia’s mother said, releasing my hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“You, too,” I said awkwardly, stumbling over the niceties, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was already turning toward InterWorld and looking down at her clipboard again. I caught a glimpse of what looked like blueprints and a lot of technical words even I didn’t recognize.
“She’s almost ready for you, Captain Harker,” Deana said, and I tried not to cringe.
“I—I’m not—”
“Don’t even try,” she interrupted. “With the death of Captain Joseph Harker Alpha, you most certainly are the new captain of InterWorld.”
“Joseph . . . Alpha?” I asked. She shrugged.
“We have our own classifications to keep everything straight.” Before I could respond to that, she started walking. She kept talking, too, obviously expecting me to follow. I did.
“We’re making some upgrades,” she continued, pointing a long silver pen toward InterWorld. “Mainly in your security system, since there was obviously a breach. Two, at least, which is why—”
“Mrs. Jones,” I interrupted. “Can you tell me—”
“Call me Deana.”
“What happened to this InterWorld? Why it was abandoned?”
She stopped walking again, regarding me with kind amusement. Then she glanced past me, at Acacia. “All the questions he could ask, and he asks about something that doesn’t concern him.”
Acacia smiled and shrugged. “It concerns InterWorld, which means it concerns him.”
“That event occurs tens of thousands of years in the future, Joseph,” Deana said.
“Time isn’t static,” I said, repeating something I remembered Acacia saying. “That event may have already occurred in the future, but that doesn’t mean it won’t affect me.”
Her expression changed. She looked at me for a long, uncomfortable moment, and I recalled something Jay had said a long time ago about how it was TimeWatch’s job to make sure the future happens as it’s supposed to, and how they could erase me if it became necessary. . . .
Then she looked at Acacia again, who cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Mom, uh . . .”
“You’re grounded,” her mother said, and the girl behind her giggled. Acacia’s eyes widened, mouth dropping open in faint outrage.
“You’re kidding me,” Acacia said, and Deana laughed.
“Yes, I am kidding. Your brother already told me how much Joseph knows about Time, in part due to the MDLF,” Deana explained, looking down at her clipboard again. “To that end, the council has decided to appoint an official liaison on his missions.” She glanced at me. “No offense, but someone has to make sure he doesn’t inadvertently mess up the timestreams.”
I shrugged. Acacia blinked.
“A liaison?”
“Yes,” her mother said. “Go pack.”
I looked at Acacia. She looked at me and abruptly broke into a wide grin. “That means I get to tell you what to do,” she said.
“No, it means you get to tell me what not to do, and it doesn’t mean I’ll listen,” I said. I was mostly teasing her back, but something about this arrangement still rubbed me the wrong way. “Assuming I even accept this deal.”
Deana gave me an amused look. “Assuming you accept?”
“You just said this is my ship. Like it or not, that means I’m in charge of InterWorld and everyone in it, and continuing the fight against Binary and HEX. I have enough on my plate without having to worry about TimeWatch telling me what I can or can’t do. If you’re so bent on controlling us, why don’t you take over the fight?”
“We have our own problems,” Acacia began heatedly, but Deana put a hand on her shoulder.
“I understand how you feel, Joseph. And Acacia is right. The fact is, our problems just became your problems.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. Acacia was also looking at her mother curiously.
“I assume my husband told you of the anomaly that bound you to the MDLF?” she asked. I hesitated, but nodded. I still wasn’t entirely clear on how it happened, but at least I knew what she was talking about. “This same anomaly occurred with the Techs and the Mages, what you know as Binary and HEX. Not with all of them, but with enough. There are a few now who share the characteristics of both, and these are more dangerous than anything you have ever faced—with the exception, I suppose, of FrostNight itself.”
Acacia’s eyes widened again. “You mean the . . . ?”
“Techmaturges,” I said, feeling my stomach descend about to my knees.
“Or something like them,” Deana corrected. “They are not exactly the creatures we have faced, but they share some similar abilities. Acacia will be able to help you against them.”
I looked at Acacia. She looked slightly less sure about this whole idea now. Her mother reached out to tuck some of her hair back, where it had come loose from her ponytail. “You’ve studied the most about this timestream, sweetie,” she said. “And your brother will take a while to recover. You’re the best choice for this mission—everyone thinks so. And you’re a Time Agent, Casey. You can come see us whenever you want to.”
Acacia visibly cringed at the use of the nickname, scrunching up her face. I couldn’t help it; I laughed at her, and she turned a furious glare on me. “I’ll slap you again,” she warned, and I smiled, remembering how she’d hugged me after.
“Would I get a hug again, if I let you?”
“No.” She glared, but then she stepped forward and hugged me anyway. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but I knew I was glad to have in her my arms—I was honestly afraid her coming on this mission with me would ruin any chance we had of an actual friendship. Frankly, I hoped hugging her now would help calm me in the future, when I’d inevitably have moments of wanting to strangle her. By the way she sighed, she was likely thinking the same thing.
There was a sudden flash of bright light, and Acacia pulled abruptly back. “Paisley!” she exclaimed, and her sister giggled again. I glanced down at the girl; she was holding what seemed to be an old-fashioned Polaroid camera, which explained the bright lights I’d seen before. She’d been taking pictures of everyone fixing up InterWorld.
Paisley stepped shyly up to me, offering the developing picture. It was white, the chemicals still oxidizi
ng on the film. “Casey hates pictures,” she said as I took the picture from her.
“I also hate that nickname!” Acacia said, reaching for her sister. Paisley ducked and ran off, Acacia not far behind. Deana turned to watch them go, smiling, and then gestured to the photograph.
“You should keep that,” she said. I tucked it carefully into my pocket, still looking at her.
“Did you know the Old Man?” I asked. I had a feeling I knew what the answer would be.
“Yes,” she said. “We all did, but my sister knew him best.”
“Acacia said her aunt died on my world,” I said. Deana nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said. “Acacia—my sister, my daughter’s namesake—wasn’t sorry. She waited all that time to be able to see him again.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Why couldn’t they see each other?”
“I hope you never find out,” she said, handing me the clipboard. “Go on inside,” she said, before I could ask again. “I have a few other things to look into, and you have to start restructuring your teams. InterWorld will be ready to go by the end of the day.”
She turned and walked away, leaving me with a clipboard I didn’t understand and a head full of questions and worries. TimeWatch was like that. I remembered the last part of the Old Man’s message, the one he’d had Jaroux record for me. It’s worth it, he’d said. I wondered if he’d still say so, now.
I turned and walked toward InterWorld, unsure of what else to do. My feet did most of the work for me, taking me up the ramp and through the halls without the conscious direction of my mind. I still felt incomplete, like something was missing. I supposed I’d always feel that way. No one had ever said this job was going to be easy.
I walked through the halls, returning the nods and greetings from my fellow Walkers, the infrequent handshakes and even less frequent hugs. No one questioned where I was going; the Old Man’s office was mine now, like it or not, and I had work to do. The five former members of my team would be officers; they could each take command of their own teams, although I might want to keep Jai as a senior field officer rather than a team leader. Either that, or only assign him Walkers like J/O (and the thought of him immediately brought on another pang of sadness), who had dictionary chips installed in their brains. There had to be others like him out there.
The Old Man’s office was just as I’d set it up before leaving to deal with FrostNight, though cleaner. Two of the long silver boxes that now contained all the memories from the Wall were used to hold up the massive slab of marble that served as a desk. The others lined the walls, some with padding and cushions to be used as a couch, others used as the base for bookshelves. Morbid as it was, it suited. These memories and the responsibilities that came with them would be mine alone.
I looked at the chair sitting behind the massive desk. I crossed around to stand near it, looking back at the door. I imagined how this must have looked from the Old Man’s point of view, when Walkers came in to debrief after a mission. I wondered if I would ever live that long and get that old. I wondered if young Walkers would fear and respect me the way we had him.
I touched a finger to the surface, watching Josetta’s message appear. It was dimmer than it had been; I probably had about a week before it would vanish entirely. I supposed that was for the best, really. It would be a little distracting if it appeared every time I touched my desk.
I slid open a drawer from the standing file cabinet, staring at the stacks of neat office supplies. The contents of the drawer were different from the last time I’d stood here and looked into it, but of course they were; this desk had belonged to someone else. Just like it now belonged to me.
I reached into my pocket, pulling out the picture Acacia’s sister had taken of us. It was an actual image now, clear and sharp, Acacia standing with her arms around me and her head resting on my shoulder. She looked sad and hopeful.
As for me, I was a man I didn’t recognize. I was tall and strong, my wavy red hair long enough to not look as silly as usual. There were white bandages circling my head and covering one eye, and I looked completely comfortable with the girl in my arms. More than that, I looked determined. I looked wise, like my father—and hard, like the Old Man.
I pulled a pen from the drawer, clicking it open and flipping the picture over. Feeling a little silly, I scribbled on the white part of the Polaroid and stuck it in the back of the drawer.
I left the office, taking Deana’s clipboard with me. I wasn’t ready to sit there yet, wasn’t ready to outline the teams that would be going out and risking their lives to find more of us. I would have to be, later, but for now I would walk the ship. The clipboard detailed more things that needed to be done, and a few of them were things I could do on my own; it suggested an overhaul of the voice recognition and command system, for one.
I walked back through the halls the way I’d come, heading toward the infirmary. The ship was powered up, and I was sure there’d be a few of my friends recuperating here rather than in TimeWatch’s sick bay. I was afraid to find out how many of us weren’t there, how many hadn’t survived the final fight. It was bound to be at least a few, but it always was. It was part of what we signed up for when we came in.
The walls leading up to the infirmary were stark silver, still empty and echoing. I ran my hand absently along them as I walked, feeling the smooth metal pass beneath my hand. This was where the memories of the fallen had been, before I’d taken them down. I’d wanted to give the new recruits a fresh start, to not weigh them down with the memories of those who’d lived and died long after us, still fighting the same war.
This would be a new war, now. The game had changed. Before, I was fighting HEX and Binary to keep my world safe; I was fighting because all the other versions of me were, too, and I could do no less than them. Now I would be leading them, and recruiting more—taking them from their families and giving them the option to fight for their worlds. I wasn’t the hero who had saved everyone; I was the cautionary tale, the man who had watched his world die. It was my job now to guide the others in fighting for theirs.
My hand went unbidden up to the chain around my neck, to the pendant I always wore. My mother had made it for me before I’d left home; it was all I had of her now.
I reached up to the clasp behind my neck, unclipping it. I held up the necklace and admired the way the stone caught the light, the black fading to blue and green. It reminded me of the galaxy ocean we floated on, the green of the grass in the park and the blue of the Silver Dream. Of FrostNight. Of Joaquim.
The wall near the infirmary door was patterned with holes from whatever battle had taken place here far in the future, the metal rippled and bent from blaster shots. In one place, it was broken outward enough to form a small hook. I reached up, wrapping the chain around the small bit of metal.
I remembered the Old Man in his last moments, standing there under the tree house. I remembered how peaceful he had looked, and what Acacia had said about my world being restarted. I understood now why he’d been smiling. The world I’d known had died, as everything did eventually—as I had been ready to do, if it meant saving the Multiverse. But it had also lived again, as I had. As my family eventually would.
I had started this to keep my world safe. The war might have changed, but that hadn’t.
“Hey, Joe,” Acacia’s voice came over the com system. “They restarted all the command systems, and the only voice the software’s recognizing is mine. You’d better get up here before I pull a one-woman mutiny and take over the ship!”
I sighed, reaching up to touch the smooth stone of the necklace. “You’d’ve liked her, Mom,” I said. “Though I’m still not sure if I do.” A warm feeling flooded through me at that; I could easily imagine my mother’s knowing smile as the lie left my lips.
The engines rumbled to life beneath me as I turned to make my way up to the engine room. Even now, my world was growing, forming oceans and trees and clouds. Where it had b
een like a parent to me, now I saw it as a child. I could still take care of it, still ensure it a long life. I could still protect it. And maybe, if I lived long enough, I could see my family again.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
NEIL GAIMAN was awarded the Newbery and Carnegie Medals for The Graveyard Book. He has won both the Hugo and the Nebula award. You can learn more at www.mousecircus.com.
MICHAEL REAVES is an Emmy Award–winning television writer and screenwriter who has worked on nearly four hundred teleplays for various series. He has written many books, as well as short fiction and comic books.
MALLORY REAVES is best known for her adaptations of the popular manga series After School Nightmare, which was nominated for a 2007 Will Eisner Award.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
ALSO BY NEIL GAIMAN
ALSO IN THIS SERIES
InterWorld
The Silver Dream
OTHER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS BY
NEIL GAIMAN
Coraline
Crazy Hair
The Dangerous Alphabet
The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish
The Graveyard Book
Instructions
M Is for Magic
MirrorMask
Odd and the Frost Giants
The Wolves in the Walls
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers