The Cold Beneath (7 page)
We stood as silent sentinels, hand in hand on the lawn of our employer’s estate for what seemed a very long time. I was unsure what to say to her. Ten years of misfortune couldn’t be swept away with a single apology. She hadn’t just broken my heart, she betrayed me in the face of all the world. Left me a ruined man, both emotionally and professionally, with the façade of a liar and the reputation of a charlatan. What was there to say?
“Dr. Goode, is it?” I asked, reaching for idle conversation to fill the growing gap of silence. Years ago, we attended the same university. While the focus of my education lay in biomechanics, she pursued general medicine. Our paths were similar enough that we shared many classes. Goode was our mutual mentor many, many times.
She nodded. “I had a practice for a few years, but I had to close it when Elijah’s health began to fail.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No you’re not. But that’s understandable.”
I looked over her shoulder to Lightbridge. “You aren’t serious about going with him are you?”
“Yes.”
“But … alone?”
“Gideon has agreed to act as my escort, though I am sure there will be talk of my honor upon our return. One woman and over thirty men? What a scandal that shall cause.”
I returned my gaze to her, locking onto those jade eyes, struggling not to fall into their depths. “As if loose talk ever bothered you.”
“No.” She gave another tinkling laugh. “I never cared for the petty gossip of other women. These days, even less so.”
“None of this makes sense.”
She furrowed her brow in silent question.
“Why does he need me if he has you?” I asked. “Certainly you know enough about his prosthetics to take care of his needs.”
Geraldine laughed at my question, a soft, understanding chuckle. “You have a lot to learn about the man. I know enough, true. But Gideon Lightbridge isn’t the kind of man who settles for enough. He wants the best. And you’re the best when it comes to biomechanics. Well, you are now that Elijah is gone.”
I looked up to the man in question, who smiled at me as if he knew I was speaking of him. “Why did you tell him the truth about me?”
“Because I’ve lived with the guilt of what Elijah did for so long, I couldn’t help but confess it. Besides, after Lightbridge told me what he planned, I knew he needed your expertise. I can only help him so much. But you, you are just what he needs. Say you’ll join us.”
This exaggerated sense of importance to the mission fluffed my feathers a little, but not enough to change my mind. “I don’t think so.”
She moved closer to me, lowering her voice even more so that I had to strain to hear her whisper, “Philip, I urge you to think again. This single voyage could restore you to everything you had. You’ll be party to the greatest discovery since the Americas. Most people have long since forgotten your tiff with Elijah. This deed will erase what memories linger.”
“People never forget.”
“The extraordinary obliges them to forget. Do this, and you can come home with your head held high.”
We may have not spoken in years, but the woman remembered just how to toy with me. The humiliation of Goode’s thievery drove me from my home in England. To think that this single journey could restore my good name and allow me to return without disgrace was just the right carrot to tempt the mule of my broken spirit.
“I just don’t know,” I said.
She sighed again. “I can never change the way things happened, but I can help you now. Come with us, Philip. I promise it will be a journey the world will never forget.”
I agreed, reluctantly, and ignorant of how true her prediction would be.
With ample time to reflect upon my decision, I now know it was based neither upon my need for work nor my inquisitive nature. Nor did I fall into Lightbridge’s grand world of adventurers, seeking satisfaction in all things exploratory. So now, freezing to death in the cold of this hopeless wreckage, I am left to wonder why I chose to join the doomed crew in the first place.
No, again I lie.
I was well aware at the time, as I am now, of my need to prove myself. To her. To the ghost of Goode. But most of all, to myself. I had to finally crawl out from under the shadow of shame that dreadful man had cast upon me. I needed to become something more than just an out-of-work bio-mechanic. Something more than a just another jilted lover. I needed a cause to force me from the shell of my self-imposed ennui.
I needed Lightbridge.
And I would soon come to comprehend that I needed Geraldine even more.
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The Crew
I will pause here in my narrative to bestow proper respect to the men who gave their lives to this quest.
As much as I would love to identify all of them, and encourage the rest of the world to laud them for their sacrifice, the sad and shameful truth is that I cannot. Most of the men I met only in passing, and they died as no more to me than their employed positions aboard the Northern Fancy, ranks as opposed to names. Self-absorbed in my own drama as I was, I never took the time to get to know anyone beyond my immediate circle of influence. My remembering what names I did learn was but the result of convenient labeling—each man wore a name badge that relieved me of the responsibility of knowing who he was at heart. And now the few of the crew who remain gather as a mindless host beyond my door, beckoning for my attention and my warm flesh, waiting for me to finish this record so that I may join and know them at long last.
Once there was a roster of the entire crew, a heavy tome in which Lightbridge recorded not just those aboard but also the day to day activities of the ship. It is gone now. It’s all gone. Destroyed when Geraldine’s lab exploded. Gone with her, and my hopes, and my dreams. All destroyed.
Please, forgive my melancholy. Even though I look forward to letting down my guard at last, I’m afraid my impending date with death has left me a little bitter. I suppose viewing the approaching horizon of one’s own mortality is bound to leave behind a touch of despair.
But I digress.
The crew was as motley a lot as one could hope for. Geraldine had a small contingency of medical students, three men, who seemed to hang on her every word. The rest of the crew consisted of those I had witnessed building the ship, thirty or so strapping men of various ages and sizes. There were men as old as Lightbridge, perhaps older, and some who were just on this side of puberty. I asked Albert, who acted as foreman, about the wide array of workers. He explained that Lightbridge handpicked the crew himself.
“He traveled the world,” Albert said, “choosing those whose prowess with both mechanical engineering and quality craftsmanship exceeded all others. And of course there are a few aboard who have no technical experience whatsoever, but can run a sloop from the Caribbean to here and back again in hurricane season with their eyes shut. They are the real sailors. The rest of us will make sure the ship moves. They have the job of making sure she moves where we want her to go.”
“So he hired you to build the ship,” I said, “and then use that intimate knowledge to maintain her on her flight. Very resourceful.”
“Lightbridge is resourceful as well as practical. He believes those who employ a contraption should be the same ones who created it. Feels it gives them a deeper understanding, as well as an emotional attachment. Which is why he insisted you be brought aboard to maintain his fancy legs.”
“And I still don’t understand that. I have no emotional attachment to those things.” That was a lie, but one I was willing to maintain. “And aside from that, my friend, you are certainly clever enough to deal with—”
Albert silenced me with an upheld hand, a motion learned from a long-held friendship with Lightbridge. “Phil, my lad, you give me too much praise. Biomechanics are a far cry from the rough and tumble engineering I am accustomed to.”
“Nonsense. Why, this ship alone is greater than anything I could imagine. And your mechanism for refining helium, that is a class all of its own.”
“Be that as it may, the interaction between clockwork and flesh is too much for a mind like mine. Gears and gadgets I understand, but muscles and metal? I think I will leave such work for a better man than I.”
Which once again explained my presence on board.
Yet I was still unconvinced that I was needed when there were so many capable engineers and mechanics surrounding me. Sure, none of them held a proper education in biomechanics, but between Geraldine’s small medical staff and Albert’s engineers, I felt unnecessary. When I at last learned the truth of the matter, the real presence I was aboard, it did not shock me much. Though that was due in part to the astounding amount of anguish already forced upon my soul. After the atrocities I had witnessed, nothing more could have shocked me.
As the last of the crew, the task has fallen to me to ask for God’s mercy upon these men’s poor souls. For, like me, they have seen and done far too much, all without knowing the trap into which they had willingly fallen.
All because of one dammed soul’s lust for glory.
****
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True Love’s Burden
I signed on to the venture that very day, after my angry confrontation and eventual truce with Geraldine. I would not accept her apology, but I would concede her points. Lightbridge’s offer was far too attractive, financially and socially speaking, for me to ignore. And what was six months of time spent with her? The ship was large enough that we might never have to see one another, and when we reached True North, she would be far too busy with her climate research to trouble me.
I planned to avoid her.
Those plans failed.
I never liked the idea of doctors and did my best to steer clear of them unless I was too ill to do otherwise. To my great irritation, visiting the medical personnel was required aboard the Fancy. When Lightbridge informed me that, as per my contract, I would be required not only to allow Geraldine to examine me once per week, but also to allow her to take a needle to my precious skin every day, I balked. But he would not be moved.
He informed me that everyone aboard was required to partake of what he called the Regimen: a rigorous exercise program, a painfully healthy diet, abstinence from alcoholic beverages and a daily vitamin injection, all designed to keep his crew in top physical performance. His reasoning, while irritating, was most sound. He surmised that past journeys to the north failed not because of the biting cold or poor navigation, but because of lack of proper nutrition and other demons of ill health. I reminded him that I was a far cry from ‘top’ in my physique, at which he assured me that Geraldine’s syringe of vitamins and herbal extracts, along with a healthy dose of exercise, would set me straight. As a compromise, Lightbridge suggested that one of Geraldine’s medical students could tend to my weekly physicals, to which she agreed with some degree of displeasure.
The Regimen aside, I was considered an honored passenger, with few duties aside from maintaining my own quarters. I wasn’t required to help with the finishing of the ship or loading of cargo, and I didn’t offer. Neither was I called upon to assist with the setup of the ship’s fantastic airbag, which was just as well. Manual labor never suited me, so I tended to evade it on the whole. As a result, I spent the days watching and brooding, convinced Geraldine had darker plans for dragging me along than she was willing to admit. As the days unfolded, I also grew worried that Lightbridge was a man operating well beyond his mental means.
I’m not proud to say I was correct on both accounts.
Lightbridge was a creature of much affection. He shared tales of his life and his military career with a warm and friendly smile. When it came to his own hired help, he was gentle and fair-minded. He treated each member of the Fancy with the utmost respect and charm. He gave Geraldine the occasional admiring glance, though who could blame him for that? But, above all else, he treasured his beloved wife. His Bessy, as he called her, was the center of his world. He spoke of her with a twinkle in his eyes that reflected the soul of what I always imagined to be true love.
It is only fitting that he is with her now, after so many suffering years apart.
I first realized the truth about Lightbridge’s wife the night before liftoff.
The four of us—Geraldine, Albert, Lightbridge and myself—were seated around the dining table in the main house, sharing stories about our lives as new companions are wont to do. Lightbridge had just told us another wonderful anecdote about his wife, something involving linen hanging on the line and his incessant need to know if it was truly clean, when it dawned on me that I had yet to meet the woman in person.
Thinking myself sociable, I asked, “When shall I have the privilege of meeting your wonderful wife? After hearing so much about her, I can hardly wait to see her in person.”
A quick look of hesitance passed between Albert and Geraldine, but Lightbridge laughed in his usual way.
“Soon,” he assured me. “Soon enough. I’m afraid she is still at her sister’s.”
