“And he’s completely okay, now.”
“Yes. He retains the memories but not the programming. You can trust him as much as you ever did.”
“Great.” I paused. “How much can I trust you?”
Avery smirked.
“If you say that’s ‘need to know,’ I swear I will eject you from this ship into an erupting volcano,” I warned. “I know of several exact times and places, believe me. Pompeii is particularly nice this time of year.”
“It is need to know. Fortunately, you do.” His smirk faded and he sighed. “You may trust that I have no ill intentions toward you or anyone on this ship. My mission, in fact, is to help you. As was my sister’s.”
It was the first time he’d acknowledged the relationship between him and Acacia, though I wasn’t entirely surprised—they did look so much alike. I was more confused with the knowledge of what her mission—and now, his—had been. “Help me what?”
He gave another little sigh, as though I was trying his patience again. “You may recall that HEX and Binary have joined forces to unleash some kind of Multiverse-reshaping horror, do you not?”
“FrostNight.”
“Yes. It has already begun, and I am here to help you stop it.”
I felt my stomach sink into my shoes. “It’s been destroying worlds this whole time?” I said. I had been prepared for this, of course. Everything I had been doing since I left Mr. Dimas had been preparing for this—I’d been gathering up Walkers for this very reason, to take the fight to Binary and HEX, but some small part of me had still been holding out hope that maybe Acacia and I had managed to stop it before it was released.
“Yes,” Avery said. “It has.” Despite his words, his tone wasn’t at all accusatory, just matter-of-fact, which still kind of grated on me. I shoved the irritation aside. There were more important things to worry about than my ego.
“Okay. So, how do we stop it?”
Avery paused, and for the first time I saw his mask of composure slip an inch. He looked uncertain, and worried. “We are not sure. This is the only timestream in which this has ever happened. If there had been others and it had been stopped before it could complete its purpose, we would have record of the events. If it had come into existence and not stopped, there would not be any . . . anything.”
That took me a moment to decipher, but I was fairly confident I got it. “You mean, if FrostNight was ever completed it would have eradicated everything, including TimeWatch.”
“Yes. We would not exist, had it ever happened.”
“So . . . what you’re saying is, you work for an organization that has record of everything that has ever happened and ever will happen, and you have no idea how to stop this thing.”
There was the sound of metal clicking against metal as Avery tightened his grip on his sword. I inched one foot back defensively, but the motion seemed to be more of a nervous habit than a threat. I was oddly comforted by the discovery of this quirk; it made him seem a little more human.
“Yes,” he said reluctantly. “That is what I’m saying.”
I took a deep breath.
I didn’t know what else to say—what could I say? None of us, anywhere, knew how to stop FrostNight, and yet we were the only ones who had a chance. Luckily, I was saved from trying to figure it out. There was a sudden shudder and a hollow moan, and the high-pitched whine of long-unused machinery. The dim room was flooded with light as the autoillumination system kicked in, and we both squinted in the sudden brilliance. Through the open doorway, I heard the cheers and whistles of the other Walkers as InterWorld hummed to life around us, like it was waking suddenly from a nightmare.
We stood there in silence, looking at the walls, the lights, and each other. I couldn’t help thinking that this was Josephine, all around us, here but gone. Not even a soul or consciousness, just the spark that had started the flame.
This ship was her vigil, the candle at her funeral. The spark was gone, but the flame remained. And I would make sure it burned for as long as I could.
I don’t know what I was expecting or hoping for, but Avery didn’t break the sudden silence, nor did he look like he was going to. I don’t know if he was thinking about Josephine or Acacia or something else entirely, and I had no real desire to ask him. I finally settled for, “What now?”
He shrugged. “Now, I suppose you continue on with your plans, while I attempt to facilitate them.”
“Meaning you’re here to help.”
“Yes.”
“Great. Can you do anything useful?”
He leveled me with a long look, but answered, “I can help your cyborg friend make sure this ship stays running and expand your time parameters so you may reach your desired timestream.”
“Great,” I said again. “Let’s go do that, then.”