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 been 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.