"For a long time, Ray was not good at sleeping on airplanes. Too many bad memories. The circumstances of that dark December morning haven't been revisited in many, many years, but there were still enough echoes when Ray gets on the plane bound for St. John's that he didn't trust the possibility of sleep. He settled into his seat instead (the window seat next to Winston), closed his eyes, and concentrates as he'd done pretty much every day of his life since the weird, weird world-bouncing exile imposed on him by forces unknown at Milliways began. Whatever it was they were going up against in the high Arctic, it had him scared spitless, and fear was not going to be productive when they get there. So-
I will not fear. The words were worn smooth with familiarity by now, if not in any groove that their originators would recognize. Fear is the mind-killer, the spark-destroyer that brings total obliteration. Where fear leads I do not follow; where fear forbids, I go as needed. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me-..."
