Dead

I have to hit the rack early.
Up at 6 for more work.

But I managed 1050 on Terror of the Frozen North. Some, not all of them.


On the fourth day, Charlie gave up trying and went to watch the trials on next batch of winter gear. Edward handed him a pair of gloves that looked as if they couldn't keep his hands warm in a London June, let alone Greenland. Charlie took off his fur-lined mittens and woolen gloves and pulled the thin things on. Nigel confiscated a parka that looked no thicker than summer jacket. Edward took the boots and socks.

Tempted though he was to put his mittens back on, Charlie went about his chores, cleaning out the remains of their food wrappers, digging a new latrine, and generally being as useful as he could. He came upon Edward sitting down, making notes for the professor.

“How are yours working?” he asked.

Edward smiled up and lit his pipe again. “Beautifully. And they're waterproof as well. Zimmer had me melt snow and trudge through it several times. He even had me pack one boot with snow. My feet are still warm and dry.”

“You did clear out the snow?”

“Charles, I am many things, but that big a fool I am not.” He drew his pipe and made more notes.

Nigel dropped onto the camp stool across from Edward, looking comfortable and well satisfied. “Debatable, but I would say our professor is several kinds of genius. The tends and food are remarkable but this gear will change the face of winter warfare for any country that has it. It may well allow more permanent settlements in inhospitable regions.” He lit a cigarette. “They say the sun never sets on the Empire, but now it could be true for up to six months at a time.” He smoked thoughtfully. “Any thoughts about what the new contraption is to be?”

Charlie fought to keep himself calm and not shatter their new civility. He hated that Nigel was treating Edward as a friend and colleague, and worse that Edward was willing to allow it, as if nothing had happened between them. As if blackmail, the ape cage, murder, kidnapping and various abuses never existed.

“He won't tell me. I keep poking around the edges trying to help. He says it may well end war for all time.”

“Then it will never fly.” Nigel waved a hand in dismissal. “There will be no profit in it, and so no reason to have it about.”

Edward looked thoughtful. “An end to war might not be a bad thing.” He nodded at Nigel. “After all, look at us. We could spare your boy our damage or a worse sort.”

“Faugh. The history of mankind is written in war and blood. And yes, I expect my son will be marching away in his own uniform in a decade or so. It was ever thus and we shall not live to see the end of it. For now, he plays at aerial combat and complains of multiplication tables and my absence.”

The look on Nigel's face said he was more homesick than he dared let on. Charlie felt a brief instant of longing for Harlow, and even for his dad's tailor shop back in New Jersey. He missed his folks. He missed comfortable afternoons in the shop, brushing the suits and polishing the shoes while his father measured and sewed and made the customers feel at ease. He wanted to be curled up by the fireplace in Edward's study, with the stuffed fox by the fireplace, reading while Olivia delivered tea and sandwiches. He wanted to walk in the spring gardens, watch the iris start to bloom and the orchard all bud out.

He shook himself. He didn't have an answer for the inevitability of war, or the homesickness. Edward was looking just about as nostalgic as he felt.

“I could do with some of the General's scones,” he whispered, and worked to get his pipe drawing again.

Nigel stood up abruptly and vanished into his shelter. Charlie looked at Edward. “How many kids does he have?”

“Three, I believe, possibly four. The boy is the oldest. Nigel may be beastly, but he is good to those who love him unstintingly. And his wife is a drab little thing who adores him for his brilliance and kindness.” Edward said the last word without irony and Charlie puzzled over it. “He's probably gone to write a her letter. I heard one of our guides saying they were headed into the town of Daneborg tomorrow for more supplies and the post. Anyone you want to write to?