Teldin shook his head again. They were talking, he and this metallic creature, but he wasn't convinced they were really communicating. "Captain," he tried again, it means the person in command of the ship, the ship we name the Boundless Possibilities."

'Ship.' Puzzlement had turned to outright confusion in the mental voice. Is that a place you refer to? The crystal sphere of your origin, perhaps? it guessed tentatively.

"No." Teldin forced himself to think things through. Obviously the cloak wasn't translating as well as it usually did. Probably the mind of this great shiplike creature was too alien for easy communication. "The ship that we call the Boundless Possibilities is what you see directly in front of you," he tried again. "I'm the captain of the ship. I am in command of the crew that runs it. I'm the one who makes the decisions, who tells the crew to set the sails, or steer the ship." He paused, frustrated. "Don't you see the ship?" he demanded.

Of course I see you, the being-Zat-replied. I see you, and I sense your mind, Teldin Moore. But I ask you again: what is this 'ship'?

Teldin rubbed a trembling hand across his eyes. "I don't know what in the hells it's talking about," he told Djan tiredly. "And it doesn't know what I'm talking about. It can see the ship, and it 'hears' my thoughts, but…"

And then realization flooded through the Cloakmaster's mind, it thinks it's talking to the ship," he said to Djan. "It thinks I'm the ship." Of course, he told himself. The "injury"-that had to be the squid ship's ram, torn away during its crash-landing on Nex, and never replaced because the materials weren't available. And the "infestation"-didn't that have to be the crew, and by extension, Teldin himself?

He grabbed the rail with both hands, poured all his concentration into the link with the huge creature. "Zat," he said, "I am not what you see, or what you think you're seeing. I am not what's hanging in space before you. That's what I call a 'ship'. I am-Teldin Moore is-a human. There are twenty of us, each of us about"-he quickly calculated- "one thirtieth the size of the ship we're aboard.

"We are all alive," he pressed on forcefully, "we all have minds, like you do. The ship isn't alive. It has no mind. It's nothing more than"-he groped for words-"than a box of wood in which we live."

A wordless blast of shock, tinged with horror, flooded through the telepathic link, powerful enough to make Teldin sway dizzily. The infestation? Yet… this is not possible. No. How can the tiny, scurrying things have minds, the parasites? No. The last mental words carried a strong sense of denial, of refusal to accept something that went against cherished beliefs. But there was more to it than that, Teldin recognized: a hint of… could it be guilt? Why?

He put those questions aside for the moment. "Why would I lie to you?" he asked firmly. "What possible benefit could I gain?" He took a deep breath. "Look through my eyes, if you can," he demanded. "Use my senses. See if I'm not telling you the truth."

Slowly he turned around, scanning the length and breadth of the ship with his gaze. All the while, he concentrated on every detail he saw or otherwise perceived, trying mightily to channel it down the telepathic link into the mind of the metal creature. "Those 'tiny, scurrying things' you see," he whispered harshly, "they're like me. And they're like you, too. They have minds, emotions. They have wishes, and hopes, and dreams. They love. They feel fear. They're alive."

He pounded the ship's rail with a fist. "This-the ship- isn't alive. It has no mind, no will. When it breaks, we fix it. We steer it, control it. Without us-without our minds-it's inert, goes nowhere."

No, the mental voice maintained forcefully. The parasites are not like Zat. They have no minds. It paused-hesitantly, Teldin thought. Why have the parasites never spoken?

"One is speaking to you now," the Cloakmaster asserted. "Except I'm not a parasite. I am an independent being like you, with my own mind. We all are.

"I know it's difficult," he went on more quietly. "We seem so different, don't we, you and us? In size, in shape, in where and how we live. But we share one thing: we're aware of ourselves, and of the universe around us. Despite all the other differences-minor differences-that makes us the same."

The mental link remained "silent" for so long that Teldin was starting to think that Zat had broken the connection. But then the telepathic communication resumed-slowly, almost tentatively. I hear your thoughts, the creature said. Fora moment I shared your senses. What you say must be true. But is it true for all the infestations on all the "ships"?

"I think so," Teldin confirmed.

There was another long pause. Then we have done something terribly unwise, Zat murmured. All infestations? The sense of guilt was stronger, overlaid now with sadness.

Teldin shut his eyes, his throat constricting so tightly that he could hardly breathe. He thought he knew what the "terribly unwise" thing that Zat and its race had done was. What do you do when you find something you consider to be alive parasitized, suffering from some kind of infestation? You remove the infestation, don't you… ?

Teldin Moore, Zat continued, you and your tiny, scurrying minds are welcome in the space of Garrash. I and those of my kind welcome you.

In response to Zat's mental words, half a dozen more of the mirrored triangles emerged from the fire ring, soaring up into the cold darkness of wildspace to take up station behind and to either side of the first creature.

Is there any service we may perform for you? Zat asked. My kind would learn more about you….

"No service," Teldin said quickly. It wasn't that he particularly distrusted Zat, but there was something about the creature's suddenly effusive friendship so soon after its doubt and denial that bothered him. How many ships have you "sanitized?" he found himself wondering. "We just want some information. We know that you were recently visited by a large ship, a very large ship." He visualized the Spelljammer, tried to communicate the image through the telepathic link.

Apparently he'd succeeded. His mind was filled with a torrent of emotions, powerful enough to sear his thoughts with pain, as if his brain were being scoured with wire brushes. Recognition mixed with surprise, with excitement, and with tinges of ecstacy, but the dominant feeling was one of awe, almost religious in its intensity. Yes, Zat answered eagerly, the Wandering One. It was in the space of Garrash. It deigned to join us, the Wandering One, to sail on the currents of fire with us. It even shared its thoughts with us, to our great honor. The creature hesitated, then continued doubtfully, You know of the Wandering One?

At first Teldin was surprised by the tone of Zat's telepathic contact, but then he understood. You think the Spelljammer's one of you, don't you? he mused. Or something very like you, but much greater. The idea that "tiny, scurrying things" like us know your "Wandering One"-it must be as shocking to you as it would be to me if a rat swaggered up and told me it was personally acquainted with Paladine.

Could they think the Spelljammer's a kind of deity? he wondered. It would make sense, wouldn't it?

"Yes, we know of the Wandering One," he answered. "In fact, we've been following it across the universe."

Why? Zat wanted to know. There was a tinge of something that could have been suspicion in its voice.

"Wonder," Teldin answered quickly. It wouldn't do to tell Zat that I might be a deity's next captain, would it? "Wonder and awe. We've never seen anything like it before, and we want to learn what we can about it. To revere it-from a respectful distance, of course." He held his breath, waiting for the metal creature's answer.