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I MANAGED TO KEEP THINGS light and simple during dinner. Last to arrive, I caught Trey’s eye and gave him the merest hint of a nod. A gentle smile and a look of relief were all I received in response.
As always, I sat at the head of the table, with Jorge on my left and Celeste on my right, and the four children divided two to each side of the table. Cristo and Mira sat by their father, and the toddler twins — Elaine and Juan — sat by their mother. I’m not one to let a decision, once decided, weigh me down, so dinner was pretty much as it always was, with lots of talking and laughter. The food, traditional Hispanic home cooking, was excellent as usual. Trey was unfamiliar with it all, but that didn’t slow him down. I know him well enough to tell when he’s putting on, and there was nothing forced or feigned in his display of appetite or appreciation. When the last scraps were gone and the table cleared, we moved into the living room, built a fire in the hearth, and sat and talked and told stories. We often did this, but on that night the guest of honor regaled us with stories of the strange worlds he had seen, all of them versions of the one we called home, just as all of them were versions of each other. Trey seemed surprised that they were all so knowledgeable about the multiverse and brane rips, then nodded when reminded by Cristo that his father was, after all, a retired Surveyor.
The twins fell asleep, one in each parental lap; Celeste and Jorge carried them upstairs. Trey entertained the older children with sleight of hand magic tricks that widened their eyes and brought forth gasps of astonishment. He’s good with the tricks, my friend Trey, and it’s a natural talent, not the result of his implanted Alvehn technology.
After Celeste and Jorge returned to us and chased their remaining offspring upstairs, Trey surprised me by pleading exhaustion and let Celeste show him to one of the guest rooms. This left me alone with Jorge.
“Brandy?” I suggested.
“Sí!”
We obtained glasses and generous portions, and went outside on the front porch. The moon was up, a waxing gibbous moon maybe a couple of days from full, and a ghostly moonlit landscape rolled away from us to the north. There was a faint glow to the northeast marking the nearest town. Brandy was sipped and, at first, nothing was said. The drink was warm on the way down, but lost potency when it encountered a stomach filled with Celeste’s excellent meal. Crickets sang, and all seemed at peace.
“You’re going, eh?” Jorge said after a while.
“Yes.”
“Got to say I’m surprised,” he replied. “Didn’t think anything would call you back, after that time slip thing.”
“I owe him,” I said, and that was certainly true enough.
He took a healthy swig of brandy. I don’t think he ever developed a correct understanding of that beverage. “Ha! That ain’t it, not by half.”
“How do you mean?”
“You’ve still got a guilty conscience,” Jorge said. “Plain as the nose on your face. You’re still looking for a way to make it up. Seriously, dude, if he’d mentioned any other world, you’d have blown him off.”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “Look, Edren is there, making trouble. I’ll take any chance that comes my way to take that prick down.”
“Okay, fair enough,” Jorge replied with a nod. “And I’m right with you, there. He’s one bad hombre, and someone really needs to teach him how to die. But that still ain’t all of it, Dave. You need absolution. Celeste figured that out. Mi hermano, she ain’t wrong.”
“No,” I admitted, and drank some brandy Jorge-style. “No, she’s not wrong.” I turned toward him from the wooden rail around the porch. His face was barely half-lit by the small lamp we’d left on in the living room. “When I went back and discovered what the time slip had done — God, I was a mess. Worst shock I’ve had since my father was killed. Spent too much time in an inn, drunk on my ass. No one knew who I was. One night a young bard performed, singing songs based on stories of what our team did that first mission. We were still heroes to those people. I sat in that common room, listening to a sad ballad about the girl the hero left behind. That’s how I found out she... That’s when I learned Alene waited a very long time before getting on with her life. How she met a man who could love her and the child she’d born to the lost hero. The only child she ever had, for some reason. Then the bard admitted that the woman in that tear-jerker, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, had been none other than his grandmother.” I sighed and raised my glass, but didn’t drink right away. I watched the dark liquid circulate within the glass. “He was my grandson.”
“¡Madre de Dios!” Jorge gasped as his eyes widened. “You never told me that.”
“Not something I like to talk about,” I admitted. “Jorge, I owe those people something. Yes, I know it’s not my fault. I know the Alvehn should have caught it and warned me, and we may never understand what went wrong there. But I left behind the woman who should have become my wife. I left a child behind, and that girl had children of her own, made me a grandfather while I was chasing that bastard around the multiverse. Their descendants don’t know me, and never will, but I know they’re out there, in that other reality. And now they’re in harm’s way. I’ve got to help Trey fix this.”
Jorge stared at me a long moment, then nodded and said, “Yeah, man, you gotta go. I can see that.” He drank, sighed, and shook his head. “If I had this leg back already, I’d be there with you.”
“No,” I said, and Jorge looked up sharply in response to my flat refusal. “Not that I wouldn’t want to have you on my team, bro, but the multiverse will have to do without you, from now on.” I waved the nearly empty glass toward the house. “You have a higher priority, now.”
“Sí,” and he nodded with a sigh. “That’s for damned sure! I’ve got to be here for them, from now on. But I don’t need to explain that to you.”
“No, and that’s for damned sure.”
“Well, you do what’s needful, try to keep your head on your shoulders, and come on home, eh?”
I turned back to the rail, looking out at the dim nightscape.
“David?” His voice carried a note of concern.
“Every time I do this,” I said, “there’s a good chance I won’t come back.”
“I know,” Jorge whispered. We both knew that; all members of the United Nations Multiverse Survey knew that. Didn’t mean we were comfortable talking about it.
“And the longer I do this, the more often I step through a Rip, the better the odds that a given mission will kill me.”
“David, hey, man. You need a refill, I think.” Jorge’s voice was strained by the effort to make light of things, and by knowing he failed.
“The top right-hand drawer of my desk,” I said. “The one that stays locked all the time. The key’s in the gun cabinet, under that revolver you’re so fond of. You know the one.”
“I know it,” Jorge replied, staring at me.
“The documents in the drawer are a trust I made up for you and Celeste and the kids. If I’m not back in eighteen months, it’s all yours.”
“Uh, what is?” Jorge asked, brows twitching together in a momentary frown.
“The house, the property, some investments and a bunch of bonds,” I replied. “I’ve got to leave it to someone, and there’s no one else. You guys are the closest thing to a family I have now.”
It was the truth, and Jorge knew it. My father and my uncle died fighting the Moj, and my sister vanished in the peak of the chaos following the full brane crash, when Rips in the multiverse made our Earth a part of a more complicated reality. My mother just faded away, ultimately succumbing to madness and grief. You can’t transfer financial assets between realities, even if you knew for certain who should inherit.
“You are family, amigo. That’s why it matters to us that you come back, eh?” The man was insistent, and sounded near tears.
I stepped closer and put a hand on Jorge’s shoulder, holding it firmly. “I intend to. I really do. But I can’t make that a promise. You know how that goes.”
He nodded, looking downcast even in the faint light. “Yeah, I know it.”
“What are you boys on about?” said Celeste as she came through the door and joined us. “The vibe’s pretty heavy.”
“How long were you listening?” Jorge demanded.
“Few minutes,” she replied, unfazed by his accusing tone. “Long enough to be a bit concerned.”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong,” I assured her. “Just making some arrangements. Jorge will fill you in.” I finished the brandy in my glass and said, “Been a long day, kids. Time for a long nap to match.”
I started to walk past Celeste, but she caught me firmly by one hand and made me stop. “Thank you, David, for everything. But do come home, eh?” She kissed me on the cheek.
She’d heard enough, all right. And that was fine by me.
