"I couldn’t live that long out of the sun," she answered.

"How did you live on the Master’s ship?" I asked.

"They could bring the sunlight inside. You can’t."

"Isn’t there any way we could keep you alive?" I asked.

She shook her head.

Which left nothing except my desperate plan.

Burgess made the preparations I requested, without question, and I returned to Kohnke. It took me some time to get him in the frame I wanted. When he began to blubber, "I want to go home, I want to go home," I led him from the ship.

The anamorph was outside, as I knew she would be. The men were all in the ship.

I bowed deeply to Kohnke and turned to the anamorph. "He would speak with you," I said impressively.

Her eyes widened with apprehension. I was not concerned about her reading my thoughts now. What she read in Kohnke’s mind would be more believable to her.

"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.