"We must have fuel!" I shouted at Kohnke. "She can give it to us!" I pointed at the anamorph. "Command her!" Kohnke concentrated his wild gaze on the girl and mouthed something inaudible. The anamorph drew back. Her features seemed to lose their character, to be melting together. This was the critical moment. "Tell her about your Father," I commanded. His lips writhed damply and he began again his inarticulate muttering. The anamorph cried out plaintively and covered her face with her hands. I shifted my attention to the pile of soil I had asked Burgess to prepare. It quivered, flattened ... and hardened into six fuel ingots! Twenty minutes later we were in space. Our last glimpse of the anamorph was the dejected figure of a small girl, standing alone in the middle of the bubble. She had had to obey Kohnke, of course. For she believed what she read in his mind. And Kohnke thought he was the Son of God. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Lorelei, by Charles V. DeVet