"Hurry them!" Bill's thoughts crackled at the Martian expert in charge
of ordnance. "I want no refinements--give me good, old fashioned
atomo-cannon with the greatest possible concussion. Power them to emit
shattering volumes of sound upon discharge!"
The Martian's violet eyes widened. "A complete reversal of all trends,
Commander!" he exclaimed mentally. "But it shall be done immediately."
He withdrew slightly mystified.
An intolerable net of violet fire enveloped the Spacer, as the
maneuvering globes enlarged the pyramid to avoid the upward rush of the
great ship. Up, and up the flashing cruiser sped through the screaming
air, and the enveloping net of rays from the alien globes. And suddenly
it levelled off and belched its answer. From myriad hidden points, huge
dark masses catapulted into space, as the spacer instantly rose above
them in a burst of acceleration.
With frightful accuracy, the ghastly fingers of livid fire that
criss-crossed the violet net, swung from the globes to meet this new
menace before it could shower among them, and the dark masses exploded
into a holocaust of sound that sped through the riven air at the
frightful speeds Saturn's atmosphere induced. Like leaves in a great
wind the fiery globes tossed and whirled, breaking formation. But again
they reformed, maintaining the pyramid with mathematical precision, and
the ghastly, violet web of intolerable power deepened, intensified
until it was a glowing amethyst hue, and the spears of livid fire
probed like cosmic lances at the frantically maneuvering spacer.
"The Multi-Energon Screen's a blessing, Commander--how long we shall
be able to enjoy it, is the problem," Nydron observed drily. "I'm
convinced this is a battle where logistics have no value."
Bill Nardon's features went taut. The calmer Nydron appeared, the
greater the nature of the crisis. He favored his military expert with
a long, searching glance. Into the pause, the Martian Aide's thoughts
intruded anxiously:
"Surely, the Energon screen's not faltering!" It was unthinkable.
"No, but at the rate it's consuming energy in warding off that
electronic barrage, it's but a question of time until we're left with a
mechanical and mathematically perfect screen dead from lack of power!"
"And, you had in mind, Nydron...?" Bill was aware the great military
expert had something to propose. Only, Nydron's strategy was never
orthodox, and quite often overwhelming.
Nydron shrugged his shoulders and inhaled deeply of a pungent Venusian
cigarette. "We've reached a stalemate. Those fiends out there," he
gestured towards the Globes, "can't penetrate our screen, but they can
detonate our strato-bombs at will. The question is, which source of
power will last longer, theirs or ours!" He paused, and puffed again.
"Every soldier knows death's to be expected sooner or later--it's part
of our creed. But you've brought a shipful of master minds, doubtless
of irreplaceable value to the Inter-Planetary League. Now, if these
were purely a military expedition ..." He left the rest unsaid.
"In that event, what would you do?" Bill strove to be as patient as
he could, for Nydron was allowing only those thoughts he wanted, to
trickle through.
"Employ the sub-atomic Dispersal Beam to penetrate their defensive
screen, pick off individual Globes and launch radiant energy bombs
as close as possible, and see if that doesn't take care of their ...
what you termed their Achilles Heel. Of course," he murmured softly,
"that _might hasten our end_, by using up our reserves of power all the
sooner."
"Sub-atomic dispersal beam!" the Martian went stiff. "Why, that might
be an Energon neutralized ... you mean to say that Terra...!"
"Naturally." Nydron seemed to be enjoying himself. "What else could it
be? You didn't think Terra was going to remain wholly helpless? Every
poison has an antidote. However, it has not been tried as yet."
It was as brilliant and ruthlessly simple a plan, as only Nydron's mind
could conceive.
* * * * *
From what Bill Nardon had witnessed in the silent city's tower, he
had correlated the Cinnabarian's hyper-sensitivity to vibration. The
strange being had died from the concussion of the atomo-pistol. No
wonder they even filtered mental vibrations through a docile, captive
mind before they permitted the telepathed messages to reach them.
Bill had demanded atomo-cannon with intensified detonative power, but
this--this plan to strip them of their protective screen and spray
them with radiant energy bombs which continued to detonate until the
last minute spark was released--if it worked, it was the answer to
their problem. The danger was very great, Bill knew. But in seconds he
weighed the involved factors, and found only one definitive answer. He
gave it.
"Nydron," Bill said formally. "You're in absolute military charge of
strategy, answerable to no one--not even to me! Your plan should make
history. Every scientific mind on this ship, is at your disposal if
needed. I told you which was their weakest link.... I think you've
found the answer. While you give the necessary orders, I'm going to
visit the clinic. The Juvenalian treatment should by now permit my
questioning the _Aurean_ girl safely. There are a few points not quite
clear in my mind," he smiled. "It would be a dreadful thing to die and
never know the complete answer to this mystery."
But Nydron was not interested in mysteries. His lambent eyes glowed
with inner fires, as he bowed in the ceremonial manner to the
Scientist-in-Chief, who had placed absolute command in his hands.
If there were the barest chance of victory, he would seize it. He
knew that regardless of the outcome, the immortality of his name was
assured, but if he won, this would be a victory unparalleled in the
annals of their worlds. "It is a great honor, Commander," he said
simply. "The greatest I have known. The Absolute willing, we shall win!"
Without wasting a single precious second, Nydron began issuing orders,
sharp, definitive. The Dispersal Beam projectors swung into place,
and the new radiant energy missiles, contributed by the Panadurs,
took the place of the Strato-bombs. Battle-crews awaited tense and
grim the initial frightful blast, for neither one nor the other had
been tried before, and the combination of the Dispersal Beam and
Radiant-energy Bombs was awe inspiring. Meanwhile the spacer maneuvered
with vertiginous speed close to the eastern wall of Globes that formed
a side of the quadrilateral, inverted pyramid. And then began the
weirdest chase witnessed by man. For as the pyramid sought to expand
to avoid the hurtling ship, the spacer accelerated suddenly and
focused twin beams of light that became concentric yellow whorls of
disintegrating, radio-active energy. It bathed two globes briefly, and
simultaneously, a shower of bombs sped unerringly to their mark.
The stupendous concussion rocked even their spacer, as the
Radiant-energy Bombs burst in a hellish burst of fire that no human
eyes could endure, as if a new sun had been born in the skies. Where
the globes had been, nothing remained, and those that had been close
nearby, and had been touched by the yellow vortex of the beams, were
spinning, lurching out of control in a headlong dive towards the
shining sea below.
A great cry of joy went up within the Terran ship, fierce and terrible,
as the battle-crews achieved first kill.
But instantly the pyramid shifted globes and closed the gap, and the
amethyst-hued net of unimaginable force deepened again until it became
almost black. And then a lengthening beam of milky-whiteness shot out
of the globe at the apex, probing, relentless ... and wherever it
touched, gigantic tongues of flame licked upwards along its length, as
it consumed the screen's energy.
Nydron knew how limitless was the power of that white beam. And too,
how close their margin was. From every projector he had the Dispersal
Beam bathe as many globes as possible, and then the radiant energy
bombs lashed out.
Saturn seemed to reel. The pyramid was riven, even as the spacer was
tossed like a row-boat on a stormy sea. A deafening crescendo of
titanic sound flowed over the planet, and coruscating walls of fire
enveloped space, as if the titanic rings of Saturn had spilled over
into the stricken world.
And relentlessly, the emerald-tinged yellow vortex of the beams
continued to be focused on the Cinnabarian globes, while the unbroken
salvos of sound went on endlessly until the last fragment of radiant
energy was consumed in its own supernal fire, and globes fell like
shooting stars.
* * * * *
"We've never known what galaxy spawned them," Margalida, the _Aurean_
girl said slowly, in a vibrant contralto that was like the deepest
tones of a violin. She shuddered as some unnameable horror of the
Cinnabarians flowed through her mind. "But ultimately it was we who
unknowingly opened the door to them. They must have been waiting for
aeons to enter our Universe ... only, they didn't quite know how to
manipulate the forces necessary to use hyperspace. We did that for
them." The silence in the Juvenal chamber was almost a tangible thing.
"You understand the secrets of hyperspace?" There was a Universe of awe
in Bill Nardon's tones. "Our greatest scientists hardly dare experiment
with the principles involved as yet!"
"Not I, of course," Margalida gave him a wan smile, "but our
scientists ... there are hardly a dozen left, at peace in the deathless
sleep. According to your time, this happened over a century ago. I had
not come into being then, for I was born in slavery under the rule of
the _Energasts_." She pronounced the strange word conveying a mental
picture of the four-tentacled overlords.
"For centuries my people had listened to the vibrations of your
Astrographs, faint, almost undecipherable, but as time passed, we
learned your languages, your customs, recorded even the ages of warfare
that swept your planets like a plague. But we could not reach you--oh,
we knew the principles of space flight, but always the gravitational
balance of the 'Rings' stopped us; it was a sidereal barrier that
seemed impossible to surmount. Strange, we achieved the mathematical
formula for orbital flight simultaneously with the breaching of
hyperspace. And then it was too late, for in trying to reach you by the
shortest possible route, we opened the doors on a Universe that ...
that...." But she couldn't go on. The tangible horror of those alien
beings who had invaded Saturn overcame her.
Bill Nardon waited until the spasm was over. Then, very gently he
inquired: "But with a science so magnificent that you could use
hyperspace, surely you must have had weapons that would make ours seem
like toys?"
Margalida shook her exquisite head. "Weapons! The very memory of such
a thing has been erased from the race consciousness of my people,
Terran. It would be so utterly unthinkable for us to slay _anything_,
that I doubt if I could make you understand how utterly alien to us
such an act would be. For ages and ages no _Aurean_ has taken life ...
our will--literally--could not function in that direction. We managed
to close the gap, for as you doubtless know, hyperspace is not exactly
an energy field, but related to it, and so long as there is matter in
gaseous state at both terminals of the orifice, a gap can be repaired
in a very brief time cycle. But already it was too late. Hordes of
_Energasts_ had rushed through from Cinnabar, slaying, drinking our
life-energy in a horrible thirst for the divine fire. Entire cities
were left deserted, drained of all life, while every living thing in
our world came under their power.
"Millions fled to the uninhabited parts of the planet, crossing the
immense oceans of lava in a molten state that provide the necessary
heat to maintain life, thinking that perhaps the invaders could not
follow. At last, my people made their last stand here, in this valley,
and built _Sonara_, the city where you found me, and we made a pact
that every _Aurean_ would submit to cataleptic sleep at the first sign
of the _Energasts_.
"But even in that they defeated us. They took us by surprise, bridging
the lava oceans in their globes, and enslaving all that had no time to
go into catalepsis. Only three million remain now--the sleeping ones.
All the rest, and the generations that were born to them, perished in
the 'Kiss.' I'm one of the conscious few, for the Energasts needed some
of us for telepathic transmission. Vibration, as you now know, is their
death.
"_Down in the depths of that great sea_ they've built their cities,
where preparations for the invasion of your planets has gone on for
fifty of your years."
"But couldn't you have made some sort of compromise? Murder on such a
vast scale seems pointless, even if they're vampires of life!" Bill
Nardon was puzzled.
"Compromise!" A tragic smile lifted the corners of the carven lips.
"Yes, we had our choice--although to us there was no alternative--to
serve as an invading army to conquer your planets ... or die!" The
_Aurean_ girl was silent as if nothing more need be said.
* * * * *
A vast astonishment held Bill mute, and something akin to a boundless
admiration. Here was a people so high in the mental and spiritual
scale, that rather than offer resistance and kill, had carried passive
resistance to the ultimate point--to the ultimate oblivion even, of
catalepsis!
"Would you care to watch the battle?" Bill Nardon asked softly.
"Perhaps it will repay you for the agonies you've undergone. I'm
sure those four-armed vampires are going to get a taste of their own
medicine they're never likely to forget!"
A strange light came into the girl's eyes, something like the ghost of
an incalculable past, but she sighed smiling, and shook the golden head
that seemed to be crowned with an aura of light.
As Bill stood unwilling to go, held by the glory of the amazing
_Aurean_ being, the tele-panel in the communications quadrangle glowed
into life, and the voice of Nydron himself broke the spell:
"Commander, we're about to begin!" That was all. It was so
characteristic of the man. The screen went blank, and Bill Nardon
pivoted towards the door enroute to the control room.
The broad shining sea below was a maelstrom of fury, as if convulsed by
submarine volcanoes, as the spinning globes hurtled into its depths.
Mountainous spouts of the shimmering liquid seemed to be reaching
their descending spacer. Towards the far horizon, the rapidly receding
outline of a few surviving spheres raced in pell-mell flight. Silence
reigned, but for the tortured heaving of the lashing waves.
"Land as close to the city as possible!" Bill Nardon directed. "And,
cut all screens, we'll need every ounce of power." His face was gray,
for he needed no experts to tell him what the battle had cost them in
energy output. Still, they were alive. Horribly battered and drained
to the point of exhaustion, but alive ... that was the miracle! But
now, he had the horrible feeling of a Commander whose base has been
destroyed. Where refuel? Where obtain the precious energy to withstand
another assault? Bill knew this was not the end. What Cinnabarians
still remained in those fathomless depths would never rest until the
spacer and all within it was erased from Saturn's face.
Bill thought with a grimace of all those inter-planetary spacers that
had vanished without trace. "Without Energon Screens, without the
invulnerable Vulcanite or the Dispersal Beam, they never had the ghost
of a chance...!" he exclaimed inwardly, and his long, vise-like hands
slowly knotted at his sides. Beads of perspiration rolled down his
cheeks as he concentrated on finding a solution to their problem.
The staccato sound of the landing signal swept through the ship as
they prepared to make contact. In the near distance the great city
shone under the illumination of the rings, enveloped in the sepulchral
silence of its cataleptic legions.
Bill's eyes widened as the thought slowly evolved into ordered
processes in his mind. "The _Aureans_...." Involuntarily he spoke
aloud. "Hyperspace!" If he could awaken even one of those remaining
ancients who knew the secret of hyperspace, he might contact Terra, or
one of the inhabited planets. Hope rose like an exultant flame, and he
hurried to the Juvenal chamber where Margalida recovered.
At the doorway of the control room, he almost collided with Freml, the
Panadur, and it suddenly occurred to Bill he had not seen the silvery
Psycho-synthetist for some time.
"Where have you been? Under the treatment?" Bill inquired.
"Of course not!" Freml telepathed disdainfully. "What need have I of
such crude methods? As soon as I awoke I left the chamber ... my people
supplied some energy, I needed nothing else. But you're hurrying...."
"To the Juvenal Chamber. We have no time to waste!" Bill flashed. "If
we can awaken one of those cataleptic _Aurean_ scientists, we may get
from him the necessary equations to use hyperspace, Freml.... It means
we can contact our worlds ... obtain aid!"
"Perhaps I can help," the Panadur thought slowly. "It should not be so
difficult to bring them back to conscious life."
He followed Bill into the hushed atmosphere of the Juvenal, his own
mind strangely blanked as he communicated with the other Panadurs
aboard. It was their way, mysterious, aloof.
And now that the screens were down, the subtle, all-pervading
vibrations of the Cinnabarians had commenced again.
* * * * *
They would have to don Energon helmets, Bill thought wearily. It was
a battle without end. But the sight of Margalida was to him like the
sight of an eden seen from the bleak monotony of desert wastes. His
electric-blue eyes kindled as the girl smiled, a question in her eyes.
She extended a fragile hand that might have been carven of Jadite, and
in the husky voice with the harp-like cadences she said:
"I know you've won ... and for the first time in my life, I have been
glad to know that beings have died!"
It was as near as she could come to exult in the extinction of the
dreaded _Energasts_.
"You're improving!" Bill's face was illumined by a dazzling smile.
"I'm afraid that if you're among us for some time, in the end you'll
share our atavistic instincts; even Freml here can blast a hellion
out of existence when the need arises," he said with a bright glance
to the Panadur. "However, we need your help, Margalida. We want to
awaken at least one, more if possible, of the remaining scientists in
the deathless sleep. Do you know where they are? Can you direct us to
them?"
"Yes," she assented gravely. "They sleep in the second tower, where the
traction beams that captured the ships of space for the _Energasts_,
are located. I will lead you to them."
"Bring your fellow Panadurs, Freml, we shall need them," Bill
telepathed. "This will have to be done with all possible
precautions--any moment there may be another attack." A little pulse at
the base of his throat trembled as he gazed at Margalida.
The burning roses that were the stars had paled a little, before all
the preparations were completed and they were ready to leave the ship.
Only Nydron and his battle-crews, with several of the lesser scientists
were to remain, for this might be the only chance they would have to
wrest the secret from the dormant minds. And then there was Margalida,
nothing must happen to her. So Bill Nardon left nothing to chance. Even
the austere Juvenal surgeon was to go along, and a protective bodyguard
of Mercurian Amazons, power-rapiers and all--bristling with lethal
weapons.
These last were the most eager of all. Seeing them in their bulky,
serried ranks, Bill Nardon flashed them a clear, blue glance and
grinned. The mental picture of these ruthless creatures tangled in
mortal combat with the taloned _homunculi_ of the _Energasts_, would
have astonished the gods.
But all their preparations were in vain, for suddenly the Ethero-Magnum
screen began to glow in the control room, as other screens glowed in
the stately central cabin, in the Juvenal Chamber, and even upon the
walls of the battle-stations so that what one saw, was the property of
all. The sound of indrawn breaths sounded explosive in the stillness;
an unbearable tension made the atmosphere electric.
For one agonized instant, no one dared to hope--an anticlimax would
have been terrible to endurances that had been tested to the breaking
point. In this planet of contradictions and alien madness, _anything_
was possible.
Out of the misty darkness of outer space, the streaks of silver that
were ships flashed headlong into the monstrous embrace of Saturn,
wheeling over the planet's outermost gravitational limits, in
awe-inspiring orbital fall. The strange tug-of-war between the pull
of the vast rings, and the giant planet itself, must be neutralized.
Swinging in tremendous arcs to lessen the speed they hadn't dared
diminish in space, they came in roaring with all braking rockets
flaming in great blasts. Behind them, still more silver streaks came
into view.
For an awful moment it seemed as if the forces against them would
defeat the ships. They seemed to hang static in space, as they turned
the night of Saturn red with the furious cataracts of rocket fire. And
then--
"They're going to make it. They are!" Bill Nardon exulted fiercely.
V
The foremost, a Terran spacer, had cut its rockets and swerved,
peeling off in a magnificent plunge from dizzying heights into the
atmosphere. Behind it streamed the balance of the Terran Fleet, like
hounds that had sighted its quarry. And in the nebulous reaches of the
stratosphere, the swarm that was still more ships flashed, reflecting
the splendor of the rings.
The lofty screen divided itself into two parts now. One segment showed
the Terran ship come coasting down in great, breath-taking spirals,
followed by its sister vessels, while the upper section mirrored the
out-distanced and far more numerous portion of the immense fleet of
spacers. They saw the Terran ship level suddenly, and from its bomb
bays, a shower of black projectiles dropped swiftly toward some target
they could not see. It banked in another wide turn and again its deadly
bombs showered down on the maelstrom the first bombs had caused below.
And then they saw the cause of the unexpected maneuver. An immense
iridescent globe had risen from the shimmering depths of the sea.
Another and another rose from the surface like cosmic bubbles rising
from the tossing waves, hurrying to intercept the new invaders before
they had a chance to land. The sinister violet haze was rapidly
reaching out already, like an immense, empurpled amoeba reaching out
with hungry tendrils.
At a sign from Bill Nardon, the great strategist Nydron was at the
Tele-radio, transmitting orders to the Terran ship that now darted and
lashed out with its disintegrating rays like a Manthis over a nest of
rattlesnakes. "Use your sub-atomic Dispersal Screen, you fools!" He was
roaring, "and then strike ... strike hard with everything you got!" One
hand was pounding into the reddened palm of the other.
The balance of the fleet was thundering down now, and they saw the
sudden burst of incandescent lightning that was the Energon screen as
the Martian vessels turned their unrivalled protection on, then it
vanished into invisibility as the screen took hold.
And from the Terran ship, and its sister vessels that had finally
caught up, the great yellow beams that turned into vortexes of emerald
tinged power burst out, bathing the sinister Globes, enveloping them in
their lethal stream. And then, the holocaust began. It seemed as if the
liquid depths were spawning hundreds and hundreds of the great spheres,
while overhead the sullen skies were black with the flashing vessels of
the Inter-Planetary League.
* * * * *
A great Venusian ship caught in the empurpled fog, described a parabola
as it plunged out of control and a milky-white beam from the Globes
caught it as if on a spear and it plunged headlong into the sea below.
The titanic struggle was so appalling that even strong men accustomed
to the vicissitudes of battle trembled at the sight.
There was no quarter now. Extinction of one side or the other was the
ultimate outcome--there could not be any other possible answer, in that
fantastic hecatomb.
"How much power have we?" Bill Nardon asked quietly, and his eyes,
shadowed with the knowledge of the awful burden he was about to take
upon himself, dwelt briefly on the expectant ones of the Military
Strategist.
"Enough for about six hours, if we use the Energon Screen." Nydron said
it quietly and with eagerness that was like an expressed hope. "I think
we can tip the balance ... don't you?"
Bill glanced for an instant into the screen, where shimmering globes
and the League's ships were falling into the tossing, exploding chaos
that was the sea.
He thought of the Martian fleet, protected by the Energon, but
powerless to neutralize the Cinnabarian defenses without the Terran
Dispersal Beam; of the Venusian ships, helpless in that holocaust,
despite their invulnerable Vulcanite Hulls, and, with a catch in his
throat, of the gallant Terran vessels, able to draw the fangs from the
spheres with the Dispersal Beam, but open to the lethal power of those
hellish white beams of the _Energasts_, because they did not have the
Multi-Energon. But organized, they could wreak untold havoc on the
enemy.
"Give battle orders; we are going up. The Martians, under the
protection of their Energon Screens, to get as close as possible to the
globes, ready to hurl their bombs, while the Terran ships behind them,
screened by the Martian Fleet, aim their Dispersal Beams to neutralize
their violet power screens. Keep the Venusians and Mercurians as
reserves--that roughly, should be our strategy, modify it as needed,
Nydron.... We'll lead!"
He gazed up into the flaming clouds where the League's Fleet and the
_Energasts_ had swept upwards in coruscating swirls of intolerable
radiance, and then his gaze came to rest on the golden glory of the
_Aurean_ girl. "Margalida," he said softly, as if there were an
ineffable magic in that name. "Almond blossom," he murmured softly
to himself, as if in those few, last tragic moments, he would stamp
forever the imprint of her loveliness in his heart.
There was no sound. The tortured atmosphere of the planet regained
a measure of peace. Only the sea remained monstrously convulsed
as if striving to spew the shattered Globes and spacers now sunk
beneath its waves. And on the windswept shore, only a fraction of the
Inter-Planetary League's great ships had come to rest.
* * * * *
Of the _Energasts_ there was no sign--not a single violet globe
remained in all that vast expanse, under the blazing glory of the
eternal stars. But the victory had been almost a defeat. Countless
vessels from all six planets, and still more countless dead would lie
forever beneath Saturn's shimmering sea. But the relentless fury of the
_Energasts_ had been stilled.
And yet.... It was not over. The enemy was helpless for a while. He
must not be given time to strike again.
For beneath those billowing mountains of translucent liquid that seemed
to be strewn with flashing stars, cities--immense cities filled with
_Energasts_, what remained of them, had not felt their power as yet.
The Absolute only knew what fiendish plans even now were being framed,
while the victors strove to recover a measure of strength, and sanity.
* * * * *
In the great central cabin of the spacer, where scientists and experts
had collected, to lighten in a measure the awful tension of so many
hours, Bill Nardon suddenly looked up from the piano--the only real
luxury he had requested for himself--and said softly as if thinking
aloud:
"So many cities lie in ruins ... so many nations have been bombed.
But this will be the first time in history that a great sea is bombed
from shore to distant shore, until not a single shard remains of their
structures!"
He looked at Nydron.
"Eh?" Nydron seemed to swim up from a great weariness, and became
tense, alert. "You mean, we'll project the Dispersal Beam into the
depths and systematically bomb mile after mile of sea with radiant
bombs?" His eyes were awed. "It might take years!"
"Precisely," Nardon nodded with superlative calm. "Even if it takes a
century, until not a single _Energast_ remains to pollute Saturn!" He
smiled coldly, and his long, narrow hands evoked a melodious ripple
from the keys.
"Among my studies in correlation, are the appraisal of the methods of
the Ancients, from immemorial times. There was one Nation, in reality a
city, which was periled by the rivalry of another great metropolis. And
in their war of extinction, one city--Rome, evolved a ghastly slogan
which guided its treatment of its enemy, the slogan was: '_Delenda
est Cartago!_' And if it takes a century, we shall be able to say,
'_Delenda est Cinnabar!_' He fell silent, and in the momentary hush,
his hands began to weave a mesh of beauty as they hovered over the
piano keys. It was a magical undulation of the B Flat tonality ... a
divine lullaby to a wonderful child--a girl utterly beloved.