Trial by Ice by Casey Calouette

nodded and sipped more. As horrible as it tasted it warmed him from the inside. “But I could…”
    “No. Focus on when the storm breaks,” Sebastien said.
    “There were five men in that tent.” William stared at the heating coils. Five men he was responsible for.
    Sebastien stood. “And tomorrow is another day.”
    William watched him walk away and wondered how he could dismiss the event so casually. Then he remembered who he was, a man so injured in combat that he was more machine than human.
    His knee ached and burned as the blood slowly returned to the frozen and damaged tissue. He had caught a glance when they were stripping him down, the skin was white with a tint of charcoal in the center. Every beat of his heart throbbed the burning even further.
    The howling and slamming of the wind was relentless throughout the entire night. They only knew the tent with the wounded was still there because the reactor remained stable. William slept in fitful moments, awakened either by the booming wind or the burning in his leg.
     
    * * *
     
    Morning arrived with more of the same. The storm seemed as intense as when it had first slammed into them. Conversation, already sparse, dropped off and the men hemmed in near the heating coil and sat or slept. William would look to Eduardo who would check the output and nod solemnly. His tattoos shimmered and blurred whenever he exposed the flesh.
    Eduardo crawled over and sat near him. He pulled off a mitten and slid his sleeve upwards. The arm was covered in a panorama of angels, mountains, lights, and fury all clashing with a darkness. It moved as if in slow motion. An image of blood droplets crawled slowly from elbow to wrist. Eduardo held out his arm with pride.
    “It’s quite amazing,” said William as he watched the scene unfold.
    “This arm was done during the Festival of Salvador, but it changes. See?”
    “Do you control it?”
    “Ahh! Such is the beauty, it changes itself,” Eduardo beamed with pride. “That, that is the miracle: the nanites decide. Or whoever controls the nanites.” Eduardo slid the sleeve back and pushed the mitten back on.
    “Whoever?”
    “Faith! You must have faith!” Eduardo nodded to himself.
    William sat in silence and looked to the men around him. How much would they take before fracturing and wandering out to their deaths? How long would the storm last? He didn’t bother pondering beyond that. He shrugged to himself and sat in silence as the wind marched on.
    They awoke to a sudden silence. William lay with his eyes opened and strained to hear the wind. The heating coil popped loudly. Men sat up and slid sleeping bags off. The silence was overpowering.
    William shed the sleeping bag and crawled to the door, pushing it open. Crystals so white they were almost gray poured inside. Outside was a white horizon with a line of pale blue sky. The storm had broken, replacing violence with tranquility.
    He waded across the gap between the two tents. The snow was heavy and stiff like a dry cement. He pushed away a heavy bank and slid himself in, falling onto the floor with a hiss of snow behind. Vito sat with the head of the blonde cradled on his lap, the strider jockey sat near the coil. A single man lay nearby. A solitary sleeping bag was tucked against the back wall.
    “Vito!” William called excitedly.
    “William, tell me you brought a ration bar or roast chicken?” Vito asked.
    “Soon! How do you fare?”
    “Von Hess has been reveling me with tales of Bavarian sausages, and Tik is explaining how to cure salmon,” Vito replied. “One more lost during the storm.”
    William nodded to Von Hess and Tik. “I’m Midshipman Grace.”
    Tik, the blonde who the surgeon missed, wore a subtle mask of bruises on her face. She gave a weak salute and nodded.
    Von Hess saluted with an injured arm. “Is Tech Sergeant Eduardo well?”
    William nodded. “Quite, thankfully. He’s kept us all warm.”
    “Ahh yes, he does have a certain affinity for