"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."