Commander John Hanson recounts the extraordinary story of Liane, Priestess of the Flame.
econd officer, glanced curiously at Hendricks. "I see she's made one friend, anyway," he said. "Don't let yourself slip, my boy; I've run across her kind before. They're dangerous."
"Thanks, but the warning's not necessary, Mr. Kincaide," replied Hendricks stiffly, an angry flush mounting to his checks. "I merely expressed a requested opinion."
"We'll let that phase of it drop, gentlemen," I cut in sharply, as I saw Kincaide's eyes flash. Trust a woman to stir up strife and ill-feeling! "What shall we do with her?"
"I believe, sir," said Correy, "that we'd be nice to her. Treat her as an honored guest; make the best of a bad situation. If she's what the Chief thought she is, the boss of this outfit we've got to lick, then there's no need of stroking her the wrong way, as I see it."
"And you, Mr. Kincaid?"
"I see no other way out of it. Under the circumstances, we can't treat her like a common culprit; both her position and her sex would prevent."
"Very well, then; we
The stunningly beautiful leader of the Flame Cult stows away on John Hanson's space ship that is on its way to her planet to suppress the mutiny of the otherwise lumpy natives.
She is seemingly the only woman in the story, but it doesn't make much difference, because all the characters are cardboard, and the plot is a waste of time.