"Then, don't attempt to meddle with things which are more powerful,
than you and the forces you control. And--don't waste breath on Mr.
Hendricks. Fair warning!"
Before I could ask for more complete explanation, she had slipped
inside her stateroom and firmly closed the door.
* * * * *
We set down on Lakos late that afternoon, close to the city--town,
rather--of Gio, where those in charge of operations made their
headquarters. With Liane and Correy, leaving the ship in charge of
Kincaide, I made my way quickly toward the headquarters building.
We had gone but a few steps when Liane was surrounded by a shouting
throng of her fellow Lakonians, and with a little mocking wave of a
white hand, she stepped into a sort of litter which had been rushed to
the scene, and was carried away.
"For one," commented Correy with a sigh of relief, "I'm glad she's out
of sight. If I never see her again, it'll be too soon. When do we
start something?"
"Not until we've talked with Fetter, who's in command here. I have a
letter for him from the Chief. We'll see what he has to say."
One thing was certain; we could look for no assistance of any kind
from the natives. They regarded us with bleak scowls, from beneath
shaggy, lowering brows, our uniforms of blue, with the silver
ornaments of our service and rank, identifying us clearly.
In the greenish Lakonian twilight, they were sinister figures indeed,
clothed all alike in short, sleeveless tunics, belted loosely at the
waist, feet and legs encased in leather buskins reaching nearly to the
knees, their brown, gnarled limbs and stoop-shouldered postures giving
them a half-bestial resemblance which was disturbing. Their walk was a
sort of slow shuffle, which made their long arms dangle, swinging
disjointedly.
We entered the administration building of gray, dull stone, and were
ushered immediately into the office of the head of operations.
"Hanson?" he greeted me. "Mighty glad to see you. You too, Correy.
Terrible hole, this; hope you're not here for long. Sorry I couldn't
meet you at the ship; got your radio, but couldn't make it.
Everything's in a jam. Getting worse all the time. And we're
shorthanded; not half enough men here. Sit down, sit down. Seem good
to feel firm ground under your feet?"
"Not particularly; your air here isn't as good as the _Ertak's_."
Correy and I seated ourselves across 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?"