Free The Cold Beneath by Tonia Brown Page A

will ever find us.
    For the sake of all humanity, I pray it will never be so.
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Eleven
    The Journey
     
    Despite my reservations, the bulk of the journey itself was quite humdrum. From the moment the Fancy drifted out of the greenhouse and into the warm spring air, the trip was smooth and almost carefree. I say almost because, due to our close quarters and part of the Regimen, I had to deal with Geraldine more directly than I cared for.
    The ship ran with a blinding efficiency. Routines were the bread and butter of the whole crew, with rosters and work chits posted all over the ship informing any passing crew member where he was supposed to be almost every hour of the day. Even I was given a schedule, though it was mostly blank save for my required time on the pedometrics, my daily vitamin injection, my weekly physical and a bimonthly checkup of Lightbridge’s legs. I filled the rest of my time reading, or lending a hand when some small mechanical thing went awry, or watching the scenery roll beneath us from the sun-drenched windows of the bridge.
    This last bit was illuminating to say the least. My entire exile to America had seen me as a veritable hermit of sorts. In fact, my previous experience of treading upon American soil consisted of hustling from the port of my arrival into an estate purchased sight-unseen by arrangement of my family barrister, and then refusing to venture beyond my domain unless absolutely necessary. As a result I had viewed little of the country herself, and never from such a fantastic bird’s-eye view. Even those native to the land were in awe of the passing scenery, oohing and ahhing as if witnessing the beauty of their own countryside for the first time.
    Though I could hardly fault them. Witnessing the majesty of America from such a high and peaceful outlook left me just as moved. The patchwork blankets of vast farmlands, segmented by years of sharecropping; the peaks and valleys of the scrolling geography still pocked with the scars of battles long since passed; the contrasting grays of the bustling industrialized cities as opposed to the natural hues of the tranquil villages; small veins of creeks leading to wide arteries of rivers, which themselves emptied into the heart of the endless ocean; and at last the coastline teeming with tall ships and schooners and masses of travelers all seeking a new life in a new world.
    The hardest thing to get used to was the increasing daylight hours. With the spring came eternal sunshine in the Arctic, and the closer we drew to True North, the less darkness we had to deal with. By the time we would reach the Arctic Circle, the sun would circle the sky in an endless chase, rolling about the horizon but never setting. It would always be sunny, at least for the months we planned on being there. I found the prospect almost maddening.
    And so time passed. Days tumbled into weeks, the sun set less and less, and the ship ran like veritable clockwork.
    To my surprise, the Regimen suited me well. The physicals showed a marked improvement in my weight and health. It would seem daily exercise and sensible eating agreed with me, while the vitamin injections were proving good for my system. I felt healthier, stronger, younger than I had in years. The clean air might have had a hand in my heartiness, or perhaps it was just the result of getting out after so many years of hiding away.
    Before long, I was enjoying the journey more than I thought possible. I began to take on a few odd jobs around the ship, dancing dangerously close to performing the dreaded task of manual labor. I even released Bradley from my services, allowing him to join the rest of the crew in manning the ship, something he seemed keen on from the onset. This left me to take care of myself for once, something I hadn’t done in a long time, and I think I got on rather well.
    Geraldine became bearable company, though the anxiety we shared never lightened. I suspect that’s what