On the ice of Nix

Abstract

A slippery slope. By Mari Ness A nother slip. A tiny one. Another lurch, a huge one. Another -Her teeth sunk into her lips, drawing blood.She was not going to scream. She was not.She was not going to give anyone that satisfaction.Assuming anyone was even listening. Probably not. But she could not -would not -ignore the possibility -the probability -that her suit also held some sort of recording device, allowing them to check on her regularly. A device she would have to locate and destroy. Until then -No screaming.No matter how much her brain was shrieking.Not from the cold, or from the ice, or the isolation. But from the vertigo, the horrific unceasing vertigo, the way the stars kept shifting and spinning and the way the ice and rock beneath her -No.