the desk from the garrulous
Fetter. "I've a letter here from the Chief; I believe it explains why
we're here."

"I can guess, I can guess. And none too soon. Things are in terrible
shape. Terrible." Fetter ripped open the letter and glanced through it
with harried eyes.

"Right," he nodded. "I'm to help you all I can. Place myself at your
disposal. What can I do?"

"Tell us what's up," I suggested.

"That would be a long story. I suppose you know something about the
situation already. Several reports have gone in to Base. What did the
Chief tell you, Hanson?"

* * * * *

Briefly, I sketched the Chief's report, Fetter nodding every few
words. When I had finished, he rubbed his long, thin fingers together
nervously, and stared down, frowning at the littered top of his desk.

"Right as far as he went," he said. "But he didn't go far enough.
Wanted you to find out for yourself, I suppose.

"Well, there _is_ a secret society working against us here. Sect, I'd
call it. Undermined the whole inhabited portion of Lakos--which isn't
a great area, as you know."

"The Chief Priestess is Liane. I believe you said she stowed away on
the _Ertak_ with you?"

I nodded.

"You're keeping her under guard?" asked Fetter.

"No; under the circumstances, we couldn't. We had no authority, you
see. A crowd of natives bore her away in triumph."

"Then your work's cut out for you," groaned Fetter. "She's a devil
incarnate. Beautiful, irresistible, and evil as corruption itself. If
she's back, I'm afraid there's nothing to be done. We've been sitting
on a volcano ever since she left. Pressure growing greater every
instant, it seemed. She's just what's needed to set it off."

"We'll have to take our chances," I commented. "And now; just what is
the set-up?"

"The Worshipers of the Flame, they call themselves. The membership
takes in about every male being on Lakos. They meet in the great
caverns which honeycomb the continent. Ghastly places; I've seen some
of the smaller ones. Continent was thrust up from the sea in a molten
state, some scientific chap told me once; these caverns were made by
great belches of escaping steam or gas. You'll see them.

"She--Liane--and her priests rule solely by terror. The Lakonians are
naturally just horses" (a draft animal of ancient Earth, now extinct),
"content to work without thinking. Liane and her crew have made them
think--just enough to be dangerous. Just