Nigel Findley - The Broken Sphere

"If you're asking what I think you're asking, yes," the Cloakmaster told the creature. "Your Mind of the World almost destroyed my ship, almost killed my friends."

The trilateral didn't respond immediately. When it did, its mental voice was slow. Mind of World [doubt] protects People from harm. Not [sadness] cause harm to not-People not-Others not-animals [regret]. Wrong [decision] is.

I get the feeling that was an apology, Teldin mused wryly. Then another thought struck him.

"Do the People regret the harm that was done to me and my ship?" he asked.

The answer was as immediate as it was unequivocal. Regret, yes.

"Then," the Cloakmaster pressed, "if the Mind of the World really responds to your desires, I think you can help us out…."

*****

Teldin stood beside the smashed hull of the Boundless, flanked by Message Bearer and Speaks First. After leading them back to the clearing, he'd steered them on a stem-to-stern tour of the crippled vessel, pointing out the critical damage inflicted by the magical blasts from the surface. As other members of the crew looked on, gaping openly, he'd shown the trilateral the fractures in the keel, stressing repeatedly that the damage prevented the ship from ever lifting back into space.

Throughout, he'd sensed their emotional reactions, "eavesdropped" on their conversation between themselves. While they'd been puzzled at first by the ship's design, they soon came to understand its purpose and basic structure. He could easily detect their surprise and dismay over the fact that the Mind of the World, in protecting and "cherishing" them, could mete out destruction to "not-People not-Others not-animals" such as Teldin Moore.

At last he finished his explanations. He gestured around to the crew lining the deck rails-including Djan and Julia, both of whom quite obviously wanted to know just what was going on. They can wait until this is over with, he decided. "That's the situation we find ourselves in," he concluded. "The Mind of the World did this. Can the Mind of the World undo it? It's up to you, I think." And then he stepped back, reaching out with whatever extended perception the cloak saw fit to grant him at the moment.

If he'd been hoping to be able to detect a moment of decision, to sense the interaction between the two trilateral and the planetary mind, he was disappointed. He sensed nothing.

For a long moment, he thought nothing was happening. But then, in his peripheral vision, he saw movement.

From this spot, on the soft "grass" of the meadow, he could see through the great rent in the squid ship's hull, into the bilges. The light from the speeding mini-suns shone down through the open cargo hatch, then through the hole blown in the cargo deck itself, illuminating the smashed keel. In the yellow-orange light Teldin saw the wood of the keel shift-saw it flex slightly, watched as the individual wood fibers interwove with one another, knitting themselves back together.

He felt the almost uncontrollable urge to recoil from the sight, to deny it, to refuse to accept that such things were possible. But with a titanic effort of will, he forced himself to watch the process through to its conclusion.

It didn't take long. Within three or four minutes, Teldin found he couldn't tell anymore where the breaks had been. Under even the closest scrutiny, the thick keel looked like one solid piece of wood again. He reached in through the hull breach, ran his hand over the smooth wood. Under his fingers, the only evidence of the damage was that certain regions were slightly warmer than others.

Major damage [satisfaction] undone. Ship [expectation] function with other damage?

Teldin turned to face the two trilateral. It was Speaks First who'd "spoken." He glanced up at Djan, at the rail above. "It wants to know if we can fly with the other damage," he relayed.

The half-elf shrugged dispiritedly. He hadn't seen the miracle in the bilges, Teldin reminded himself. "The only thing that matters is the keel," Djan replied. "We can fix everything else while we're underway, but without that keel…"

"Be careful what you ask for. You might just get it," Teldin said with a quick grin. Djan stared at him for a few moments as though the half-elf thought the captain had lost his mind. Then the first mate's eyes widened with surprise, and he disappeared. Teldin heard his friend's running footsteps thundering down the ladder into the cargo deck. With a smile, he turned back to the trilaterals.

"The other damage doesn't matter," he told Speaks First. "Thank you for our keel."

The creature waved its tentacles-dismissively, the Cloak-master thought. Then Cloakmaster [certainty]should from [impatience] World of the People, it "said" firmly. World of the People [decision] not for the Cloakmaster, Mind of the World [detachment] not for the Cloakmaster. And with that, the two creatures strode away for the edge of the forest.

'What was all that about?" Julia called down to him.

The Cloakmaster shrugged. "I think we've just been dismissed."

From within the hull, he heard Djan's yell of astonishment and joy as the half-elf saw the mended keel.

Teldin stood on the afterdeck of the Boundless. Julia and Djan were still leaning on the rails of the grounded ship, staring at the periphery of the meadow. Since the departure of Speaks First and Message Bearer, nobody had seen any sign of the trilaterals. It's almost as if they've decided the Incomplete animals" are off-limits, the Cloakmaster mused. Certainly, the creatures seemed to have no curiosity about Teldin and the others, or what they'd do now that the ship's keel was fixed. That, perhaps, was the most alien thing about them, he mused. Virtually every other race he'd ever encountered had some touch of what his grandfather had called "monkey curiosity."

"A mending spell," Djan breathed for the dozenth time, amazement still sounding in his voice. "A mending spell, that's all it was that fixed the keel. Rudimentary magic, the kind of thing any wizard's apprentice learns in his first year of training. But the scale, a whole ship's keel…" He shook his head. "If we could find some way to harness this Mind-"

"No," he cut himself off sharply. "Forget I said that. I don't want anything to do with those… those things, and the sooner we're back in space, the better."

Teldin turned, surprised at his friend's vehemence. Although he, too, wanted to get clear of Nex-and intended to, as soon as the crew had the ship spaceworthy again-he didn't have any particular negative feelings toward the trilaterals. "Why's that?" he asked.

"It's this whole 'Mind of the World' thing," Djan replied. He shrugged apologetically, visibly forcing himself to calm down. "This whole business of the world-mind cherishing and protecting the People. It scares me."

Julia had turned to regard the half-elf as well. "What's wrong with it?" she asked. She grinned. "I wouldn't mind a little cherishing from time to time."

"But what does that cherishing mean?" Djan asked. "Doesn't it mean that the People get their every need met? Maybe even before they realize they've got a need. Remember what Teldin said about that rat creature bringing Message Bearer a fruit'"

Teldin nodded slowly. He thought he knew where the half-elf was going with this.

Julia obviously hadn't guessed yet, however. "So what's wrong with that'" she repeated blankly.

"It's stagnation," Djan answered, his voice cold. "That's what's wrong with it. The People are living in this… "-he struggled for words-"this terrestrial paradise. The Mind protects them from anything that might threaten them. The Mind gives them food whenever they need it, probably gives them warmth. Maybe reassurance, too, I don't know.