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orning light。 It was an unending landscape of water and ice。
He felt terribly sleepy。 Odd that he was no longer cold。 He struggled to bring himself awake。 Now； slowly； it came back to him： the landing； climbing a crevasse to the top in the blackness； the wretched attempts to light a fire； the slow slide into lethargy。 There was the time before； too … before all this … but he did not want to think of that right now。 Right now； his world had shrunk to the edges of this strange island。
Here； on its top； there was no feeling of motion。 It was as solid as land。 The great procession of rollers continued eastward； smoother now。 After the black of the night and the gray of the storm； everything seemed tinted in pastels； the blue ice； the pink sea； the red…and…peach sky。 It was beautiful； strange； otherworldly。
He tried to stand； but his legs ignored the mand and he only rose to one knee before falling back。 He felt an exhaustion so profound it took a supreme effort of will not to sink back to the ground。 A dim part of his mind realized it was more than exhaustion … it was hypothermia。
They had to get up； move。 He had to rouse them。
He turned to Rachel and shook her roughly。 Her lidded eyes swiveled around to him。 Her lips were blue and ice clung to her black hair。
〃Rachel；〃 he croaked。 〃Rachel； get up； please。〃
Her lips moved and spoke； but it was a hiss of air； without sound。
〃Rachel？〃 He bent down。 He could hear her words now； sibilant； ghostly。
〃The meteorite。。。〃 she murmured。
〃It went to the bottom；〃 McFarlane said。 〃Don't think about it now。 It's over。〃
She shook her head faintly。 〃No。。。 not what you think。。。〃
She closed her eyes； and he shook her again。 〃So sleepy。。。〃
〃Rachel。 Don't go to sleep。 What were you saying？〃 She was rambling； delusional； but he realized it was important to keep her talking and awake。 He shook her again。 〃The meteorite； Rachel。 What about it？〃 Her eyes half opened； and she glanced downward。 McFarlane followed her gaze； there was nothing。 Her hand stirred slightly。
〃There。。。〃 she said； looking down。
McFarlane took her hand。 He pulled off the sodden； halffrozen gloves。 Her hand was freezing； her fingertips white。 Now he understood： her fingers were frostbitten。 He tried to massage the fingers and the hand relaxed。 She was holding a peanut。
〃Are you hungry？〃 McFarlane asked as the nut rolled away into the snow。 Rachel closed her eyes again。 He tried to rouse her and could not。 He pressed himself against her； and her body was heavy and cold。 He turned for help and found Lloyd； lying on the ice beside them。
〃Lloyd？〃 he whispered。
〃Yes；〃 came the faint； gravelly voice。
〃We've got to move。〃 McFarlane found himself growing short of breath。
〃Not interested。〃
McFarlane turned back to shake Rachel again； but he could hardly move his own arm now； let alone apply force to her。 She was inert。 The loss seemed more than he could fathom。 He looked out over the huddled； unmoving shapes； glistening under their thin coatings of ice。 There was Brambell； the doctor； with a book crooked incongruously under his arm。 There was Garza； the white of his bandaged head rimed in frost。 There was Howell。 Two； maybe three dozen others。 No one was moving。 Suddenly he found he cared； cared very much。 He wanted to yell； to get up and start kicking and punching people to their feet； but he couldn't even find the energy to speak。 There were too many of them； he couldn't warm them all。 He couldn't even warm himself。
His head swam as a strange； inky sensation overcame him。 Apathy came creeping。 We're all going to die here； he thought； but it's okay。 He looked over at Rachel； trying to shake the inkiness off。 Her eyes were half open now； rolled up； just the whites showing。 Her face was gray。 He would go where she had gone。 It was okay。 A single snowflake drifted out of the sky and touched her lips。 It took a long time to melt。
The inkiness returned； and this time it was good； like sleeping in his mother's arms once again； and he gave in to it。 As he drifted off into delicious sleep； Rachel's voice kept going through his mind： Not what you think。 Not what you think。
And then the voice changed： louder； more metallic。 〃South Georgia Bravo。。。 In sight。。。 Approaching for a high…line pickup。。。〃
A light appeared overhead。 There was a clattering； a rhythmic beating。 Voices； a radio。 He struggled against it all。 No； no； let me sleep！ Leave me be！
And then the pain began。
South Georgia Island；
July 29； 12：20 P。M。
PALMER LLOYD lay in a plywood bunk bed in the infirmary hut of the British scientific station。 He stared at the plywood ceiling： endless loops of dark and light wood； patterns his eyes had traced a thousand times over the recent days。 He smelled the stale food that had been sitting by his bed since lunchtime。 He heard the sound of wind outside the tiny window that peeked out over the blue snowfields； blue mountains； and blue glaciers of the island。
It had been three days since their rescue。 So many had died； on the ship； in the lifeboats； on the ice island。 But one man of her crew alive； what put to sea with seventy…five。。。 The old sea…ditty from Treasure Island ran through his head； as it had run； over and over and over； since he had first regained consciousness here in this bed。
He had survived。 Tomorrow； a helicopter would take him to the Falklands。 From there he would return to New York。 Distantly； he wondered how the media was going to report this one。 He found that he didn't care。 So little seemed important anymore。 He was finished： finished with the museum； finished with business； finished with science。 All his dreams … they seemed so ancient now … had gone to the bottom with the rock。 All he wanted to do was go to his farm in upstate New York； mix a stiff martini； sit in the rocking chair on the porch； and watch the deer eat apples in his orchard。
An orderly came in； removed the tray； and began to put down another。
Lloyd shook his head。
〃It's my job； mate；〃 the orderly said。
〃Very well。〃
At that moment there was a knock on the door。 McFarlane came in。 His left hand and part of his face was bandaged； he was wearing dark glasses； and the man looked unsteady on his feet。 In fact； he looked terrible。 He sat down in the metal folding chair that occupied almost all the free space in the tiny room。 The chair creaked。
Lloyd was surprised to see him。 He hadn't seen McFarlane at all these past three days。 He had just assumed McFarlane was through with him … as well he should be。 Hardly anyone had spoken to him。 His only visitor from the expedition； in fact； had been Howell； and that had been to sign some papers。 They all hated him now。
Lloyd thought McFarlane was waiting to speak until the orderly left。 But the door closed behind them； and still McFarlane remained silent。 He did not say anything for a long time。 And then at last he removed his dark glasses and leaned forward。
The change startled Lloyd。 It was almost as if the man's eyes were on fire。 They were red and raw； with dark circles beneath。 He was dirty； unkempt。 The loss of the meteorite； the death of Amira； had hit him hard。
〃Listen；〃 said McFarlane； his voice tight with tension。 〃I've got something to tell you。〃
Lloyd waited。
McFarlane bent even closer now； speaking directly into Lloyd's ear。 〃The Rolvaag went down at 61°32'14〃 South； 59°30'10〃 West。〃
〃Please don't speak of this with me； Sam。 Not now。〃
〃Yes； now；〃 said McFarlane with unexpected vehemence。
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a pact disc。 He held it up； winking its rainbow colors in the light。
〃On this disc … 〃
Lloyd turned away and faced the plywood wall。 〃Sam； it's over。 The meteorite's gone。 Give it up。〃
〃On this disc is the last batch of data we gathered on the meteorite。 I made a promise。 I've been。。。 studying it。〃
Lloyd felt tired … so very； very tired。 His eyes strayed out the little window to the mountains wreathed in glaciers； their icy tops piercing the clouds。 He hated the sight of ice。 He never wanted to see ice again； ever。
〃Yesterday；〃 McFarlane continued relentlessly； 〃one of the scientists at the station here told me they'd been recording some very unusual； shallow seaquakes。 Dozens of them； all below 3 on the Richter scale。〃
Lloyd waited for McFarlane to continue。 It was all so irrelevant。
〃The epicenter of those quakes is at 61°32'14〃 South； 59°30'10〃 West。〃
Lloyd's eyes flickered。 He slowly turned his head back to meet the young scientist's eyes。
〃I've been analyzing this data；〃 McFarlane continued。 〃It mostly has to do with the shape and internal structure of the meteorite。 It's very unusual。〃
Lloyd did not answer； but he did not turn away either。
〃It's layered。 It's almost symmetrical。 It's not natural。〃
Lloyd sat up。 〃Not natural？〃 He was beginning to feel alarmed。 McFarlane had suffered a psychological break。 He needed help。
〃I said； layered。 It has an outer shell； a thick inner layer； and a tiny round inclusion right in the center。 This is not an accident。 Think about it。 What else is like this？ It's very mon。 It must be a universal structure。〃
〃Sam； you're tired。 Let me call a nurse for you。 She'll … 〃 But McFarlane interrupted。 〃Amira figured it out。 Right before she died。 It was in her hand。 Remember how she said we had to stop thinking from our perspective； start thinking from the meteorite's perspective？ At the end； Amira knew。 It reacted to salt water。 It had been waiting for salt water。 Waiting millions of years。〃
Lloyd looked for the emergency button near his bed。 McFarlane was in much worse condition than he had initially thought。
McFarlane paused； his eyes glittering unnaturally。 〃You see； Lloyd； it wasn't a meteorite at all。〃
Lloyd felt a queer suspension； a stillness in the room。 There was the button； if only he could press it casually； without exciting the man。 McFarlane's face was flushed； sweaty； his breathing rapid and shallow。 The loss of the rock； the sinking of the Rolvaag； the deaths in the water； on the ice … it must have broken him。 Lloyd felt a fresh stab of guilt： even the survivors were damaged。
〃Did you hear me； Lloyd？ I said it's not a meteorite。〃
〃What was it； then； Sam？〃 Lloyd managed to ask； keeping his voice calm； his hand casually moving toward the button。
〃All those shallow earthquakes； right where the ship went down。。。〃
〃What about them？〃
〃Just this。 Are you familiar with the Panspermia theory？ That the earth was originally seeded with life from spores drifting through space？〃
〃Certainly； Sam； certainly；〃 Lloyd said in a soothing voice。 He pressed the button： once； twice； three times。 The nurse would be there momentarily。 McFarlane would get help。
〃Well； this is Panspermia with a vengeance。〃 The redrimmed eye bored into Lloyd's。 〃That thing we just planted at the bottom of the sea？ I don't know what it was； not exactly。 But I do know one thing。〃
〃And what's that？〃 Lloyd tried to sound normal。 Thank God； he could hear the hurried footsteps of the nurse in the corridor。
〃It's sprouting。〃
Authors' Note
THE ICE Limit is； in part； inspired by a real scientific expedition。 In 1906； Admiral Robert E。 Peary discovered the world's largest meteorite； which he named the Ahnighito； in northern Greenland。 He located it because Eskimos in the area were using cold…hammered iron spearpoints； which Peary analyzed and found to be meteoritic in origin。 He ultimately recovered the Ahnighito； wrestling it to his ship only with tremendous difficulty。 The mass of iron； when it was finally aboard； destroyed all the ship's passes。 He managed to bring it back to the American Museum of Natural History in New York； where it is still on display in the Hall of Meteorites。 He recounted the story in his book Northward over the Great Ice。 〃Never；〃 Peary wrote； 〃have I had the terrific majesty of the force of gravity so powerfully brought home to me as in handling this mountain of iron。〃 The Ahnighito is so heavy that it rests on six massive steel pillars that penetrate the floor of the museum's meteorite hall； pass through the basement； and are bolted into the very bedrock under the building。
Needless to say； while many of the locales mentioned in The Ice Limit actually