A waste of time.
Captain Turner sure had that right. As Kin packed up the komatik in the darkness just after seven a.m., he had half a mind to call the whole thing off. What was the point of dragging some uselessly handsome southerner out on patrol when neither of them wanted to be there? He could make up some excuse. Turner would probably be just as glad for it.
“Morning.” Walter Pimniq lifted a hand in greeting as he came out of his house next door. He gazed up at the void of a sky. “More snow coming soon, I think. Are you going to show the captain how to build an igloo? Southerners like that.” He sipped steaming coffee from an insulated plastic cup. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and his graying black hair was tousled.
“Maybe.” Kin fastened a tarp over the tightly packed komatik, making sure the load of gasoline cans, a tent, stove and other supplies were fastened securely. A Canadian flag stood proudly at the front of the sled, flapping in the wind.
“How’s your new snow machine?”
Kin grinned as he patted the snowmobile’s side. “Fast.”
“I bet.” Walter sipped his coffee. “Lisa’s watching your classes?”
“Uh-huh.” The Arctic Bay grapevine operated with a ruthless efficiency, and Kin knew Walter was well aware Lisa Innugati was subbing for his classes the rest of the week. She wasn’t officially a teacher, but she was good with the kids and would make sure they did the assignments Kin left. At least he’d only had to take two days off work for this farce of an army visit.
Walter’s smile was sly. “I bet she was happy to do it.”
“Yes. She likes the kids.”
“And you.”
Kin resisted the urge to sigh, instead smiling easily. “She’s a good friend, but it didn’t work out between us.”
“But you were just kids then. You still hung up on that girl back west?”
“Afraid so.”
His imaginary university girlfriend had really broken his heart. Kin knew everyone wondered why he didn’t marry or even date. Sometimes he thought they must know the truth about him, but it didn’t seem to cross anyone’s mind. That was the Arctic for you.
He’d never met another gay person in Nunavut, although he knew he couldn’t be the only one. But without roads between communities, it’s not as if they could meet up. Even the Nunavut capital only had a population of seven thousand people.
Walter kicked his boot in the fresh snow that had fallen overnight and blanketed the community. “That captain say why he’s here?”
This was the question on everyone’s minds, of course. Kin shrugged and double checked the hitch that attached the komatik to the back of his snowmobile. “Just a Ranger inspection. No big deal.”
“Routine, huh?” Walter didn’t seem convinced.
Kin climbed onto the snowmobile. “Yep.”
“Well, do us proud. You always do.”
He smiled. “Thanks, Walter.”
He’d turned off the lights and made sure the door was locked—a habit he’d picked up in Edmonton. Kin didn’t have anything of real value in the house, which was little more than a bedroom, bathroom and common area with kitchen on one end. His books meant the most to him, and it wasn’t as though anyone would want those. He didn’t have any video games or moonshine, so he was safe.
Lights flickered on through Arctic Bay as Kin drove over to the hotel. It was getting near the end of October, with snowmobiles becoming the main mode of transportation. He was early, so he cut the engine when he reached the Siqiniq. As the sky lightened almost imperceptibly, Kin watched his breath clouding the air and listened to Turner’s voice in his head.
A waste of time. Doesn’t matter.
He sighed as his skin prickled and flushed. The worst part wasn’t that he had to take two days off work right when his students were preparing for their midterm exams, but that he’d actually been excited. Proud, even. An army captain coming to Arctic Bay!
He’d been nervous all week, planning the patrol route and fielding suggestions from everyone he came across as to the best places to take Turner to show off their home. Too bad the arrogant ass couldn’t care less. Kin had been worried he’d say the wrong thing, but clearly he needn’t have bothered giving it any thought at all.
The door to the hotel opened and the captain emerged as if on cue. Kin stood and saluted, and Turner saluted back.
“Good morning. No need to salute. We don’t need to stand on ceremony out here.”
Doesn’t want to waste his time. “All right, Captain Turner.”
“And please, call me Jack.”
There was no choice but to return the gesture. “Kin.”
“Kin. Very good.” He waved a hand over his olive green snow pants and parka. He wore thick white boots instead of the combat boots he’d arrived in, and his rifle was strapped over his shoulder. “I wore layers. Are you sure I don’t need to bring anything else?”
“Yes. I’ll put your rifle on the sled with mine.” Kin reached a hand out for it, even though the thing would likely be useless if the temperature dipped too low.
Turner—Jack—passed him the weapon. “Is that thing going to hold together?” He nodded to the komatik.
No. That’s why I’m bringing it. “There’s more give this way.” He pointed to where the cross boards were lashed to the sled with rope. “Nail it together and it’ll disintegrate in a few miles bumping along on this terrain.”
“Ah. That makes sense.”
I know, Kin thought.
“The town’s quiet in the morning. I guess it never gets too noisy, huh?”
“Hamlet.”
Jack frowned. “Sorry?”
“It’s not a town. We have hamlets in Nunavut.” Kin was being pedantic, but couldn’t help himself.
“Oh.” Jack gazed around. “It snowed, huh?” A moment later he shook his head with a smile. “Maybe you should call me Captain Obvious.”
He had a nice smile. His lips were wide and red, and a little thin, which matched his square jaw. He was freshly shaved, and he pulled a woolen toque over his dark blond hair.
“So, uh…what are your pants made of?” Jack asked.
Kin realized he was staring and jerked his gaze away. “Caribou.” The fur pants were tucked into his shin-high boots, and his heavy black parka reached mid-thigh. It was only about minus ten, and he didn’t really need to wear his full winter gear. But you never knew how the weather could turn out on the tundra.
“Looks cozy.”
Kin held up his furry gloves. “Grizzly bear.” He reached into his backpack, which was stored on the back of the snowmobile. He passed Jack a steel bottle of water. “Tuck it into a pocket inside your parka. Keep it close to your body so it won’t freeze.”
Jack did as he was told, and next Kin passed over a woolen neck warmer that could be pulled up over the mouth and nose, and a large pair of clear goggles. “I have polarized lenses for when the sun’s up. Clear’s best for the dark.” He put on his own goggles before pulling up his fur-lined hood over his red toque. He straddled the snowmobile and started the engine. “We should get going.”
“No helmets?” Jack’s voice was muffled under the neck warmer.
Kin hesitated. “I could get some. But hardly anyone wears helmets up here. I know we should, but…” He shrugged.
“Nah, it’s fine. What time does the sun come up?” Jack asked as he climbed on behind Kin.
“About nine.”
“Will you be able to see where we’re going before then?”
Kin bristled. “I know this land.”
“Of course. I didn’t—”
“You’d better hold on.” Kin pulled his neck warmer up over his nose. Jack may think this was pointless, but Kin would still show him that the Rangers knew what they were doing.
He kept the engine low through town, but soon they sped into the morning twilight. Jack’s arms were solid around him, and even through all their layers, it was strangely intimate and awkward. Kin had ridden with people plenty of times before, but there was something about Jack Turner that put him off balance.
Even with only seven hours of sunlight, it was going to be a long day.
As the sun peeked out from a bank of gray clouds a couple hours later, Kin stopped the snowmobile and climbed off, letting his goggles hang around his neck.
Jack pulled off his goggles and gazed around. “It’s very…”
Kin braced.
“Stark. Lunar, almost. Like the moon with snow. You can see for miles.”
He relaxed a little. It was true enough. They were on a wide plateau of the Borden Peninsula with fresh snow covering the arid land, and even though the air nipped his lungs, Kin breathed deeply. As much as he hated missing work when his students needed him, it was a fine day to be out on the tundra. He pulled his rifle from the sled and handed it to Jack. “Take this.”
“Whoa.” Jack hefted the rifle and ran a gloved hand along the barrel. “An Enfield, right? Three-oh-three caliber bolt action?”
Kin nodded.
“I thought the PM was replacing these relics? These are World War II rifles. We haven’t used these since the Korean War at the latest.”
With a shrug, Kin pulled out a small metal box from the sled. “The government’s been saying that for years. It keeps getting pushed back. I don’t mind, though. Enfields still have a big advantage over your fancy new rifles.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “And that is…?”
“The mechanism doesn’t freeze. Gets down to forty, fifty below in the winter. Colder. I’d rather have a rifle I know works, even if it’s old.”
Peering around, Jack said, “Can’t imagine there’s much call for using it.”
“Never know who you might find out here.” Kin pulled off his right glove to open the fiddly latch on the box holding his compass.
“Why, are the Russians coming?” Jack smiled.
“No. But the polar bears are already here.”
Jack’s eyes widened and he jerked his head around.
Kin chuckled despite himself. “Not right this second. They tend to stay by the coast, but sometimes they travel inland. We have to be vigilant.”
For a moment, Jack still squinted at the horizon, turning in a slow circle before his shoulders lowered. “That’s your motto, right? The Rangers?”
“Yes. Vigilans. The watchers.” Kin slipped his hand back into his glove before his fingers got numb, but left the compass in the box for the moment. “What do you know about us? The Rangers, I mean?”
Jack lowered the butt of the rifle to his boot. “You’re part of the CF Reserve, and this is 1 CRPG, which encompasses Nunavut, the Yukon, Northwest Territories, and Atlin, in the far north of British Columbia.”
Kin almost asked him to spell the acronyms out for the rest of the class—Canadian Forces; Canadian Ranger Patrol Group—before remembering his students weren’t there. Maybe I do need a few days off.
Jack went on. “More than eighty percent of Rangers in 1 CRPG are Inuit and speak Inuktitut as your first language. Some speak Dene, or other Inuit languages. You’re CF’s eyes and ears in the Arctic. You participate in northern training operations, check the North Warning System radar sites, report suspicious and unusual activities, assist in search and rescue, and collect local data of military significance.”
Captain Turner had apparently done his homework last night. Or at least spent a few minutes Googling. “Yes. But what do you actually know about us?”
“I…” He sighed. “Look, I don’t know much. But since I’m here, I’d like to learn. I’m all ears.” He glanced around. “And eyes. Is there a trick for spotting polar bears, by the way?”
So now Jack wanted to learn? That was progress, Kin supposed. “Not really. Just watch for movement. And claws. Not to mention teeth.”
“I feel like Luke Skywalker on Hoth.”
Surprised, Kin laughed. “Just before the snow monster drags him into his lair?”
“Exactly. You’ll rescue me, right? Are there any tauntauns for us to sleep inside?”
“Afraid not. I’ll just have to keep you warm myself.” As the words left his mouth, Kin’s face flushed. Turner was going to think he was flirting if he wasn’t careful. “That was my favorite movie growing up.”
Jack smiled. “Me too. I know it off by heart. All three of the originals.”
Kin discovered that Jack’s eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled for real and wasn’t only going through the motions of being polite. “New trilogy doesn’t count.”
“Nope. Also, Han shot first.”
Well, at least they had Star Wars in common. “That he did.”
“Nice snowmobile, by the way.”
“Shouldn’t you call it an LOSV?”
Jack smirked. “Ah yes, the official military term. I’ve been dealing with deserts my whole career. What is it again? Light over-snow vehicle? Well, I guess I can call it that if I want to come across as even more of a dick. Which I don’t, for the record. I have a bad habit of saying exactly the wrong thing.”
Kin blinked, surprised again. He wasn’t sure how to respond. “Apology accepted.” He removed the black metal device from the box.
Jack’s gaze zeroed in on what Kin was holding. “Is that an astrocompass?”
“It is.” Kin found himself smiling, a little shocked that Jack knew it by sight. He leveled it on a flat space on the back of the sled and pointed it north. It was similar in shape to a small microscope, but with a base plate marked with compass points and a round drum and dials above. “You’ve used one before?”
Jack kneeled by the sled, one hand propping the rifle beside him in the snow. His lips parted, and his eyes were bright as he examined the compass. “Not for years. As a cadet I spent some time at Valcatraz.” He glanced up. “CFB Valcartier, near Quebec City. One of the instructors showed us how to use this.” He pointed. “That’s the equatorial drum, right? With the sights on top? You adjust it according to latitude and time of day, and angle of the sun or whatever star you’re using?”
Kin found himself smiling. “That’s right.” He grabbed the table he’d printed out with the local hour angle for the sun and other stars for the next few days. “I have GPS with me, but it can be unreliable up here, and this will never run out of juice or freeze up.” He shrugged. “And this is just fun to use. For me, anyway.”
“Me too.” Jack grinned and examined his watch. “And this close to the North Pole, magnetic compasses go wonky.” He peered at the astrocompass again like a kid with a new toy. “But this will show us true north.”
“You want to try it?”
“Can I?”
Nodding, Kin took the rifle and passed Jack the printout. “I’ve never met anyone who was interested in this stuff. Are you into astronomy?”
Jack smiled again, and little sexy wrinkles fanned out from his eyes. “Since I was a little kid. You?”
Kin’s belly was fluttering like a bird was trapped inside. He’s not sexy. Stop thinking that. So what if he likes Han Solo and astronomy? And yes, he apologized, but… He nodded. “Before my father left, he used to show me all the stars.” Why had he said that? He barely talked about his father with anyone, let alone a stranger. He stood and pulled a thermos from the pack and took a swig before offering it to Jack. “Warm cider? We’ll melt ice for water when we stop for the night.”
“Sure, thanks.” Jack had a few sips, his throat working as he swallowed. “Okay, I think I have the settings right.”
“If the sun is in the sights, then the compass will show true north.” Kin crouched next to Jack. “There we go.”
“Are we at the right coordinates?” Jack leaned over to examine the side of the compass, and his breath fanned Kin’s cheek.
Kin nodded, trying to ignore the shiver that shot down his spine. “I just like to double check. Actually I just like to use the astrocompass.”
“Where are we headed?”
“We’re skirting around the south end of the national park. Sirmilik, it’s called. Then we’ll head west on the peninsula in a couple of days, back toward the coast. See what we see.” He and Jack were shoulder to shoulder at the end of the sled, somehow crouching very close to each other. Kin shot to his feet. “Hungry?” He unzipped a plastic bag of partially frozen raw seal and handed it over.
With a furrow between his brows, Jack took the bag. “Is it liver?”
“Seal.” Kin swallowed a chunk of the smooth, beet-red meat. It was a little thicker when it was frozen, but still went down easily.
“Raw?” Jack pulled off his glove and picked up a piece. He chewed it thoughtfully. “Huh. It’s fishy, but…reminds me of game meat as well.”
“A lot of southerners balk at eating seal.”
Jack shrugged. “When in Rome. Why do you eat it raw?”
“Out here it’s better. My grandfather always said it cooks in the stomach. Gives you more energy.”
Jack swallowed another piece and passed back the bag. “The aftertaste is like…”
“Iron,” Kin suggested, taking another piece for himself. He chewed a few times before it slipped down his throat. “I have a few granola and protein bars too.”
“Sure. I wouldn’t mind a granola chaser. Hey, what do vegetarians eat up here if they don’t do fish?”
Kin smiled wryly. “Any vegetarians here are from down south.”
“Really? Huh. I guess it makes sense. Not a lot of tofu on the tundra.”
With a chuckle, Kin shook his head. “Not much. What we’d call a vegetarian is a word that means ‘bad hunter.’”
“Ah. Good thing I didn’t ask for the vegetarian option at dinner last night.” He winced. “Or vegan, God forbid.”
Kin laughed. “No, the Arctic isn’t the place for someone who wants to avoid animal products.”
“Survival of the fittest, right? Speaking of which, do you see many polar bears?”
Kin pondered it. “I see enough. Had a close call once when I was camping on patrol. Woke up in the night to find a polar bear pawing at my buddy Michael. Good thing he still had his boots on after getting up to piss. Bear shredded half our tent, but we managed to get a shot off and I guess it decided we were too much hassle.”
“Arctic insurgents.”
Kin smiled. “Something like that. At least with a polar bear you know what you’re going to get. They don’t plant bombs.”
Jack’s gaze went distant, and he took off his gloves to peel the wrapper on a granola bar. “That’s something at least.”
A question about what it was like in Afghanistan circled Kin’s mind, but he popped another piece of seal into his mouth before he asked. The silence was surprisingly easy. The day wasn’t turning out so bad after all.
After a minute, Jack asked, “You’re young to be elected a Ranger sergeant, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Yes. When the old sergeant died, somehow the patrol started looking to me. Maybe because I’m a teacher. I don’t know.”
“You must be well respected in the community.”
Kin’s stomach twisted with a familiar flood of acid. “I suppose.” But the people of Arctic Bay didn’t truly know him. If they did… He took a deep breath, his chest tightening. “I’ve always wanted to be a Ranger.”
“Must be kind of fun. You don’t have to worry about anything actually happening out here.”
While he knew it was true that the Arctic was a far cry from Afghanistan, Kin still bristled at Jack’s dismissive tone. “We may not be trained for combat, but if something ever happens you’ll need us. You southerners wouldn’t last a day out here without our help.” He grabbed the rifle and repacked the sled. He welcomed the irritation. Irritation was good. Irritation was safe. “We need to get moving.”
Jack held up his hands. “Look, I’m—”
But Kin turned the engine on, and the roar filled the air. It was too loud to talk once they started off across the tundra again, and that was probably a good thing. This was official business, and it wasn’t as if he and Captain Jack Turner needed to be friends. Kin certainly didn’t need to be finding the man sexy. No, what he needed was to do his job. Nothing less, and definitely nothing more.
By four o’clock the sun was below the horizon, and Kin pounded in the last tent peg.
“Those pegs must be titanium to get through the permafrost,” Jack said. He was on predator watch, and scanned the horizon with Kin’s binoculars.
“Just about.” Kin was flushed beneath all his layers, and he hurried to raise the poles and get the tent up. “My hammer shattered once. It was pretty cold that day.”
“What’s your definition of ‘pretty cold’?”
He pondered it. “Once we get below minus forty, that’s pretty cold. This isn’t bad.”
“Feels like it’s getting a little colder.” Jack glanced at his watch. “Five degrees Fahrenheit. About minus fifteen.”
“Yeah, about that. Why is your watch in Fahrenheit?” Kin fastened the guylines on the tent in case the wind blew up. The clouds had partly dissipated, and stars twinkled into view as the light faded.
“It was a gift from an American. She was a staff sergeant in Kabul. Gave it to me before she went home to Knoxville.”
Ah. Probably a girlfriend. Kin felt strangely disappointed, although he had no reason to care if Jack was straight. He concentrated on transferring their equipment inside. First he spread out a few hides. He lit a lantern and hung it from a hook on the apex of the tent.
“How are we going to sleep out here?” Jack called. “Jesus, how do you do it in the dead of winter?”
“We just do.”
In the tent, Kin fired up the Coleman stove. The green metal rectangle had two burners, and he’d made sure the little red fuel tank attached to the side was full before leaving. They had extra stove fuel packed away, but it could be a pain to refill it when you needed to get warm as soon as possible. “You can come in now. Leave your boots just inside the door.”
He took off his own boots and put on his caribou booties over his thick thermal socks as Jack crawled inside, placing the rifle carefully by the door. Kin passed Jack a spare pair of slippers. “Put these on. Toes get frostbitten easily.”
Jack gazed around. “This is nice. No igloo?”
Kin smiled. “I could build one, but the tent is easier. It depends on the weather and snow conditions. I try to build a few every winter so I don’t forget how. Some of the young people these days aren’t learning the survival skills we all used to have. But my grandfather made sure I knew.”
“Is it safe to have a stove in here?”
“The tent’s inside layer is flame resistant polyester. Arctic grade and breathable so our breath won’t condense and frost inside.” The two-man tent was generously sized, and there was enough room to sit up comfortably with a few feet of headroom. Kin made sure the outer and inner doors were zipped tightly. “The outer shell is wind resistant. If the wind gets bad I have a saw to make a break wind.”
“Out of snow?”
He nodded. “Like an igloo without a roof.”
“God, it feels good to get warm again. Makes a big difference just being in here.” Jack pulled off his gloves and rubbed his hands, holding them near the stove as it heated up. “What’s for dinner?”
“I’ll heat up some bannock and tea. I brought dried caribou as well as the seal.” He put a few chunks of ice in a pot to boil, and warmed the round bannock on a pan on the other burner. Soon they tore off chunks and sipped their tea.
Jack groaned. “Delicious. I haven’t had bannock in years. It’s like a big biscuit.”
Kin was ridiculously pleased by the praise—and flushed by the sound Jack had made. Stop. Don’t even think about it. This is just business. He’s an arrogant pain in the ass, remember?
“Oh, you’ve got…” Jack pointed.
Kin wiped crumbs from the corner of his mouth. “Did I get it?”
Jack’s gaze flicked from Kin’s mouth to his eyes and back again. “Uh-huh.”
They sat cross-legged by the stove on bear and caribou hides. The tent was warm enough now, and their parkas were piled by the door. They were both in their uniforms, and Kin brushed crumbs from his red sweatshirt. He had some of the dried caribou and rooted around in the food box. “Do you like peaches?”
Jack’s mouth was full, but he nodded.
Kin opened the can and sat it in the pan. Before long, the peach juice simmered, and he passed Jack a fork.
“Oh my God.” Jack ate a peach with his eyes closed. “Canned peaches have never tasted this good.”
“In the Arctic everything tastes good. Especially if it’s warm.” Kin speared a wedge with his fork and savored the soft fruit. The sweet juice dripped down his chin, and he swiped at it before sucking his finger. When he glanced up to offer the can, Jack was staring at him, red in his cheeks and the shine of peach juice on his lips.
Kin’s belly flip-flopped like a fish in the bottom of a boat. He tore his gaze back to the can in his hand and said the first thing that came into his mind that didn’t involve wanting to lick the juice from Jack’s mouth. “This is my grandfather’s specialty. He had to count them out for me and my brother or we’d fight over who got more.”
As soon as the words were out, the buzz flowing through him vanished as memories spun through his mind. Snatching a peach from his little brother’s bowl, and Maguyuk’s howl of outrage filling the igloo.
“I bet.” Jack smiled. “Was your grandfather a Ranger?”
Kin shoved the memories away. “He was. He’s retired now. Says he’s too old to be out here, but he still hunts and fishes as much as he ever did.”
“How about your brother? Is he still in Arctic Bay?”
Kin’s throat felt like sandpaper. “No.” He gulped his cooling tea.
“Where did he move to?” Jack scooped up another peach wedge.
“He’s dead.”
Jack’s fork hovered by his mouth, and he lowered it without eating the fruit. “I’m sorry.”
Kin drank more tea. “Thanks.” He braced for the inevitable questions.
“Say, polar bears don’t like peaches, do they?”
His breath rushed out, and Kin managed a grateful smile. “Nah. They’re partial to pineapple.”
“I thought as much. Bet they like that tropical fruit cocktail.” Jack passed back the can.
“Yeah.” He swallowed another peach. “I’d better do a scan.”
“Can I come along?”
Kin frowned. “Are you sure you want to go back out there?”
“When in Rome, right? Unless I’ll be in your way.”
“You won’t be in my way.”
As Kin turned off the stove and geared up, he tried to make sense of it all. Most people he met fit into neat little boxes in his mind, but Captain Jack Turner seemed determined to messily squeeze into the nooks and crannies.