PATROL

We lift off from base at L'Anse Aux Meadows, northern tip of Newfoundland, Canada.  We follow the Labrador coastline, heading north.  View is spectacular, starboard windows showing Iceberg Alley and port showing one magnificent coast.  Take those Torngat Mountains, now a mountaineer couldn't do much better for a low-budget adventure, a tough challenge.  Who can afford Everest now, with fees and help and gear?
We pass near the Dome which used to be the huge casino and red-light district at Port Burwell.  Over the Button Islands, we make our turn and descent.
Now we ain't flying, but cruising.  30 days back and forth the length of Hudson Strait.
Why?  No one knows, there's stuff in Eskimo culture they'd never tell outsiders.  But somehow or other, after centuries of peace, a feud has broken out.
Our job, deter small planes and boats crossing on raids.  To that end, we have radar, sonar, infrared detectors, night-vision goggles and a variety of devices in case it gets unfriendly.
So, why did they pick humble me to command this gig?  One of the very few non-smokers.  We're sealed in, outside it's now -68 degrees.
My XO Parvana grins as she passes the duty roster to me, "well Nilo, truly breathtaking scenery up here."
"You ain't whistling Dixie.  Tea?"