CHAPTER 1
Real fear gripped Liz now. Her hands were moist and slippery as they clenched the
control handles of the auxiliary quasar cannon behind the bridge. Blinking sweat from her
eyes, she tried to sight on one of the fast-moving pirate vessels which were converging on
her crippled cruiser like hyenas on a stricken antelope back on Earth. The whole ship
lurched sickeningly, putting off her aim, as it took another hit. The acrid smell of
burning plastic and insulation was sharp. Flaring her delicate nostrils, she tried to find
more clean fresh air. Hot under her combat armour, she shifted uncomfortably as a bead of
sweat trickled down the curve of her spine and between the cheeks of her bottom. She
splayed her legs farther apart to keep her balance on the tilting floor, knowing it was
really just a matter of time because the ship couldn't take much more of this punishment.
Although not particularly fearing death itself, capture by these pirates was
another matter. Tales of their sadistic barbarity preceded them and this had always been
at the back of her mind when on operations in this awful sector of space. Now it was
uncomfortably in the forefront. She tried sighting on another of the swarm of ships,
mainly to take her mind off her situation, but her concentration lapsed as she considered
how she had arrived in this predicament.
She recalled her pride on graduating from the Euro Space Academy of Brussels, back
on Earth. Hers were the top marks for the class of 2196 in astrogation, and the highest
ever marks for a British girl. There were many who thought that with a face like an
actress and a sexy curvy body to match, her long dark hair would be better found gracing
the 3D tele vid screens than a space uniform.
However, Liz was determined to live life to the full in space for a few years.
Then, just on her twenty seventh birthday when she had indeed thought about settling down,
she had been made second in command of the Solar Federation's newest space cruiser, the
Explorer. It was a dream to virtually run such a powerful ship, and especially under the
command of its present Captain. She had fallen in love with Harry when he had been her
tutor at the academy and, although their relationship had never - then - been consummated,
she knew that he loved her too. Now their feelings were their own secret, never to cross
into their professional lives. Although they were lovers when on leave, in space it was
purely business and Liz won the respect of most of the 100 or so officers and junior ranks
below her.
This was Explorer's second long cruise in the virtually lawless Magellan region of
space and it was proving just as successful as the first one in stamping out the
activities of the pirates. These criminals no doubt felt, due to their vast distance from
Earth, that they were above the universal laws of mankind. However it had always been
agreed that such laws should apply equally to all who colonised space after the Mesonpower
drive was discovered in 2030. This development finally allowed ships to exceed the speed
of light and travel vast distances from Earth. Only vessels such as the Explorer could try
to bring a measure of lawfulness to the outer regions and prevent the ruthless murders,
hijacking of raw materials, black market, and hostage taking.
Explorer had been more successful than most previous ships in trying to curb the
barbarous activities of the pirates. At 400 metres and 10,000 tonnes it was far bigger
than most and its armaments could devastate any known opposition. Both Liz and Harry had
heard rumours of 'wanted' signs with their pictures on them springing up on the outer
worlds, but had felt safe within the mighty walls and defensive shields of their ship.
They had not counted on the sabotage during their last overhaul which had disabled some of
her vital systems whilst more than two weeks away from the nearest help. Nor had they
foreseen the armada of small pirate ships which had been waiting for them in a
pre arranged ambush whilst they were answering a distress call from a nonexistent cruise
liner.
Liz was suddenly jerked back to the present when a blast of scorching air nearby
sent her crashing to her knees, protected only by the thick insulation of her body armour
and helmet. She thought it must be the end, and visions of Harry drifted into her mind.
She desperately wanted to be with him one last time and began to ease herself to her feet
to get to the bridge where he had been trying to fly the crippled ship. Suddenly, however,
the metallic floor vibrated around her, announcing someone's arrival.
Liz looked up expecting to see some of her crewmen but was shocked to find herself
staring down the barrel of a needle beam gun held by a space-suited figure. A gruff male
voice addressed her from the impersonal helmet towering over her.
“Surrender or die, it's over.”
Unthinking, Liz tried to lunge at him but, too late, she sensed the movement of
someone else behind her. The crack of a stun gun was the last thing she heard before
darkness enveloped her.
* * *
When her senses returned she found herself lying uncomfortably on a floor, still in
her space armour but devoid of any weapons. Loops of thin but tough wire bound her hands
behind her, the tightness virtually cutting off her feelings to leave her fingers as
useless as tingling cucumbers. Her head ached abominably from the effect of the stun gun -
but she knew from past experience that it would soon pass.
She spotted several of her crew lying in a similar predicament, and from the
bouncing movement of the floor she guessed they were in a small pirate shuttlecraft.
Everyone was anonymous in the suits, unless close enough to read the name flash on the
shoulder. To her dismay, though, glancing round from her limited viewpoint, she didn't see
Harry's distinctive captain's echelons.
Her stomach churned. Surely they hadn't killed him? A captain would be a good
bargaining chip with the Federation. It might be that her own, second in command, insignia
had spared her when she had tried to fight back at her own capture. Then she realised that
in the place of the badge was a jagged hole in her outer suit from the blast of a phaser.
She realised that she was lucky to be alive. Or was she….
A terrible bleak emptiness engulfed her. Perhaps Harry had died fighting - as maybe
she ought to have done? If he was dead, and at the hands of these savage bastards, she
knew that she too wanted to die here avenging him. The uncertainty of his fate gnawed at
her - yet she daren't compromise him, or herself, by asking.
Eventually they docked with another craft and Liz began her new life in captivity.
As they were herded down corridors to a holding area she saw other prisoners and it gave
her hope that Harry might have been on another shuttle. Although their hands were unbound
they all had to lie spread eagled face down on the floor. Their external suit microphones
were switched off and sacks were pulled over their helmets to leave them in mute, helpless
darkness. She felt so horribly utterly vulnerable. Then she heard several gruff commands
from their captors and felt a painful kick until she lay in exactly the position required.
She guessed it would be useless to demand humane treatment for her and her crew. Their
only hope was total compliance until they could assess the situation. Apart from their
surnames on their suits, their captors would have no idea as to the identity or sex of
their space suited prisoners but, as Liz lay obediently immobile, she knew it would only
be a matter of time.
Finally hands pulled her to her feet and hustled her along, stumbling and helpless,
until the sack was pulled off, restoring her vision in a smallish room containing a man
and woman wearing the 'uniforms' of the pirate empire. A pile of discarded space suits and
clothing took up one wall. The armed guards who had brought her stood back against the
wall but Liz was still daunted by the rough cruel features of the hard faced captors who
now addressed her.
“I’m Lieutenant Tarik. Get the suit off, get everything off, we'll check you before
you're taken to planet fall. Your precious Federation may have planted bugs or sensors on
you and try to get you back. Now hurry, get it all off mister.”
After removing her gauntlets and unscrewing the helmet, Liz heard raucous laughter
as the pirates saw her properly.
“Well, well, we've hit the jackpot, it’s Hartley, the second-in-command. I remember
her from the posters, and those news broadcasts,” announced the man, licking thin lips.
“Get it off girl, all off. I've seen articles about you, interviews too. You’re the Fed's
pin-up. You're supposed to be a looker... Hurry or I'll do it for you.”
Despite trying to steel herself, a red flush of shame covered Liz's delicate
cheekbones as she divested herself of the bulky suit to finally stand before her captors
in her blue one piece coverall. Suddenly, without the protection of her ship and its
awesome technology, the glamorous life of a space crusader had taken a new turn. It was
one thing to seek out and destroy pirate ships, punching computer buttons from the safety
and insulation of the huge steel ship which had been her home for so many months. However,
being face to face with her enemy was entirely different.
She felt terribly, vulnerably afraid. However, she tried to face up to the
responsibilities of command.
“Look, I don't know who you are. My name is Elizabeth Hartley. I am Second Officer
of the Federation Cruiser, Explorer, and I demand to know how many of my crew are
prisoners and what has happened to my Captain--arrgghh.”
Liz's brave speech was brought to an abrupt end when one of the guards doubled her
up gasping with a blow to her stomach. The pirate lieutenant waited patiently for a few
seconds whilst the pretty girl caught her breath. A strand of her long black hair escaped
from the tight bun she customarily wore under her space helmet, andfell down to partially
cover her exquisite face.
“Prisoners may not talk. You lost all rights when you set out to destroy us
free traders. Not so brave now without your fancy ship, are you? We don't give shit who
you were, girl, but you're just a prisoner now, our prisoner. You’re not second in
command, there’s no one to command now. So the number and identity of our prisoners is not
your concern. All you have to do now is obey orders, our orders. If you talk again you'll
regret it. You'll be questioned later but right now.... take your clothes off.”
Although a humble pirate, Tarik would certainly guess how the beautiful woman
standing before him would feel. Suddenly she had been stripped of her power, security and
status, forbidden even to talk and now was forced to completely and publicly undress
before the enemies she had been trained to hunt and kill. A bulge obviously formed at his
loins as she looked down to avoid his eyes whilst her hands moved hesitantly to the zipper
of her coverall. She stepped out of it to reveal a small white pair of bra and pants. Her
hands crossed over her thrusting breasts as she looked up again at her tormentor, hoping
that undressing this far would be sufficient. It would be fairly obvious that her flimsy
feminine covering was too small to conceal anything, but the brute seemed unwilling to
deprive himself of a rare treat. He may have seen the odd news footage of the glamorous
Federation commander being interviewed, and some occasional shots of her sunbathing off
duty. Now he would no longer have to use his imagination.
“Get it all off …or do you require assistance?”
The stray lock of her hair flicked across her face as she woodenly shook her head,
licking her lips nervously. Then she reached behind her to unclasp her bra, keeping her
eyes downcast as she dropped it on the floor before slipping her fingers into the
waistband of her tiny thong knickers, bending, and pushing them down her curving, slender
limbs with a delicious elastic rustle.
“Undo your hair, let it down,” he ordered when she was quite naked before his
appraising eyes.
Shoulders heaving, Liz reluctantly reached up to unpin the several clips still
holding most of her hair tidily in place. Automatically she shook her head in a feminine
gesture, her long tresses cascading delightfully in a dark waterfall over her creamy
smooth white shoulders.
Her captor licked his lips in appreciation. Suddenly this previously neutral
impersonal figure, looking so capable, almost harsh, with hair pinned up was transformed
into a vision of lush, exquisite, femininity.
“Give me your watch, you will not need that any more.”
She removed the expensive diamond timepiece Harry had given her last year and
handed it to her tormentor, who glanced at it briefly and put it in his pocket.
“Hands on head, legs astride, open your mouth wide; wider than that,” he finally
ordered.
Tarik whistled softly at the sight before him. His captive was no longer an officer
of a predatory space cruiser but simply a naked helpless woman, and an exquisitely
beautiful one at that. Below her shoulders, brushed by the cascade of dark hair, thrust a
pair of medium sized breasts tipped with red button hard nipples jutting forward with her
hands on head posture. A flat belly led to shapely thighs tapering to slender legs, whilst
behind her curved the rounded cheeks of a firm bottom. Making her stand with her mouth
ridiculously wide open, to display perfect small white teeth, was presumably to allow
anyone to see at a glance if a prisoner had concealed anything there before the search
proper. It also added to the victim's feelings of humiliation and total subservience.
Liz stared dead ahead, bare flesh shivering from unaccustomed nudity in such
surroundings, lips quivering as her tormentor slowly walked around her, his boots clacking
on the metallic floor. All the while, the woman with him smiled, hatchet faced as she
surveyed the spectacle, smoking an evil-smelling cigar. Liz blushed even more profusely
when the pirate glanced at her red painted toenails, vibrant compared to the grey metal of
the floor and his large black boots. Those boots casually kicked aside the delicate tiny
exotic underwear, which had until so recently snuggled warmly against her feminine
intimacies. A silent sob formed within her as she recalled Harry buying her those
delicious wisps of lace; never dreaming them being viewed in such circumstances.
She and Harry had been due an off duty day and had planned to swim together in the
Explorer's large swimming pool with its genuine sand forming a secluded cove, an island of
tranquillity in a sea of space. A tear formed at the corner of one of her large brown eyes
as she realised just how dramatically events had changed since they made those plans.
Harry might not even be alive and she was a helpless captive of the pirate empire. She
jumped, startled as she felt the man's hand pat her bottom familiarly. How many times had
she shouted at or slapped a stranger who had previously dared to do that; and that was
when she was fully clothed.
Tarik smiled as the soft globes twitched and flinched under his hand whilst he
lightly stroked the silken flesh of her delightfully smooth bottom, tapping lightly. His
hands then moved to hold and weigh the cool orbs of her breasts, the nipples springing to
erection like red buttons under his rough, hard thumbs.
“You had a lover on board I’d say. Otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered to paint
your pretty toes and to dress so sexy. Lucky man,” he announced shrewdly, with a final pat
on her rounded cheeks before addressing his female accomplice. “Check her all over,
Sergeant Dork,” he crudely emphasised the word.
They must know that Liz had absolutely nothing concealed on her body but, while the
man completed the paperwork on her he licked his lips at the sight of his female
companion's uncaring hands pulling her this way and that, travelling all over her,
prodding, probing.
“You Federation scum killed my husband,” the woman announced briskly. “So I’m going
to enjoy this.”
The bulkhead practically shook as Dork slammed Liz against it, making her lean
against it on outstretched hands, kicking her shapely legs wide apart and ordering her to
stand just on tiptoe. The woman had a cigar planted firmly in her mouth and its fumes made
Liz cough. But Liz dared not object. The coarse hands ran expertly under Liz’s hair and
through the stray strands on the nape of her swan like neck. Continuing under her armpits,
they slid down her sides, making her shiver, and over the pert cheeks of her bottom.
Smiling evilly over her shoulder at Tarik, the woman trailed a finger between the firm
globes, seeing them clench under her crawling touch before she pushed past the sphincter
muscles into Liz's tiny, secret, passage.
Liz gasped, shuddering as the crude digit filled her. It stretched her so
uncomfortably and unnaturally. Then, the other hand moved over the soft down of her dark
wiry pubic hair to the ripe womanly lips below, insinuating itself against her. One finger
began rubbing in circular motions until her love bud reluctantly grew whilst the other
delved into her other warm entrance. She squirmed, dropping onto the soles of her feet
until Dork snarled, lips hissing against the soft hair on the nape of her neck, ordering
her to strain up again onto tiptoe. When the woman detected the first signs of moisture in
the lush warmth of Liz's womanhood, together with the subtle gyration of her hips in
unwanted arousal, she immediately withdrew her fingers, laughing crudely.
“She's clean, but the cow was getting to like it,” she smirked.
Liz shuddered delicately as she remained leaning against the bulkhead. Her legs
quivered with her whole weight resting on tiny painted toes.
“Keep it up .... slag,” the woman snapped, painfully slapping the curves of her
white bottom.
Without hurry Tarik continued with the paperwork as Dork bawled out her victim for
trying to ease down from her aching toes. When he had finished he strolled over to the
splayed figure. Her bottom flinched and contracted as his broad palm slapped to add
another red splayed imprint on it.
“You're done. Put on your new uniform and you'll be taken to a reception centre at
our headquarters. I'll remind you again, no talking whatsoever.”
As Tarik spoke, Dork handed Liz a pair of thin striped pyjamas consisting of baggy
trousers with string through the waistband and a loose top held by just a couple of
buttons. It was a hideous yellow with white stripes, ridiculous and ill fitting, and with
no underwear. Having struggled into the garment and tied the string around her waist,
Liz’s hands were roughly pulled behind her and fastened with plastic cuffs. A sign with a
number 15 on it was hung around her neck. In contrast to her awful new uniform, Liz saw
the hag retrieve from the pile on the floor her expensive underwear. The bitch drew them
slowly across her face.
“I'll keep these, I think - you'll not be needing them where you are going.”
The guard who had brought her had been viewing the entire proceedings with a
lascivious grin on his face. Tarik now handed him a folder and he took Liz away, bare feet
scrabbling over the cold metal floor.
* * *
The flight to the planet was uncomfortable. Liz was with several other crew, all
wearing identical attire and numbered. Forbidden to speak, they were strapped into seats
facing each other in small cubicles, their wrists still fastened painfully behind them.
They smiled reassuringly at one other. Seeking relief in humour Liz realised that she, and
the others in the cubicle, looked like scarecrows in their striped jackets.
One young teenage crewman, Kirk, had difficulty in averting his eyes from the front
of her ill fitting jacket, where the two buttons allowed most of her delicious cleavage to
spill out. Liz knew that for many of the male crewmembers she was a fantasy figure,
featured in many young dreams in various states of undress. The lad, naked himself under
the 'uniform,' was obviously visualising her similarly naked and secured just inches in
front of him. He would also have guessed that the pirates, who had so thoroughly and
humiliatingly searched him, had also ran their hands over her enticing and nearly visible
curves.
Cringing in embarrassment his manhood stirred and to his obvious horror suddenly
jutted, purple and proud, through the baggy slit of his trousers. All in the cubicle had
seen the display, but Liz, diplomatically, averted her eyes, staring at the black canvas
covering the ports until his arousal had subsided.
After the bumpy discomfort of their eventual landing, the prisoners were unfastened
and led out. To Liz's horror there were reporters with cameras to witness the shame of the
crew of the Federation's most powerful ship being led away into captivity. Liz guessed
they were from neutral colonies who would transmit their downfall around the civilised
worlds for all to witness. Heroes and heroines of the Federation being led away as
miserable prisoners of war by a rag tag band. All would know that their powerful cruiser
defeated by tiny pirate vessels. “Good propaganda,” thought Liz gloomily as she and the
others had to walk slowly past the cameras in their ridiculous outfits, showing their
captivity numbers, wrists bound behind them. She kept her eyes lowered in her shame.
She wondered what her many friends back on Earth would make of the sight of her,
the bubbly party girl, who normally wore mini skirts when not in uniform. Suddenly
catching sight of Harry, Liz's spirits soared. He was alive. The man she loved was alive!
The beauty of her apprehensive and tense features was enhanced tenfold as she smiled.
Maybe she could now endure the coming ordeal.
When he caught sight of his lovely Liz, Harry too felt elated. His heart went out
to her. Despite being barefoot in her baggy pyjamas she looked so lovely. He saw that she
was number 15; he was number 69. Their allocation was obviously random, just part of the
de humanising process. Harry accepted that they were just puppets now in the hands of
these brigands, and their only duty was to come through whatever was thrown at them. He
gave praise to the makers of the Explorer though - mentally counting, he realised that the
vast majority of his crew had survived. He swore that if he and Liz survived this he would
at long last ask her to marry him. That day, he realised, was likely a long way off - as
was Liz, so near yet so far as she was pushed to stand one side of the room and he was
shoved to the other.
A huge barrel shaped pirate probably in his fifties and sporting a thick black
moustache stepped before the captives to address them.
“Right, listen up. It's showers for you imperialist Fed scum,” he bellowed.
“Numbers 1 to 40 will shake your arses over here in a line. Numbers 41 to 90 will go when
you return. Move it you slags. When I give an order you jump. You are not imperialist
soldiers any more, just f—king prisoners.” He emphasised his point by swishing a cane
across the pyjamas clad legs of a rather large, dusky crew woman nearest to him.
“Eeeehh,” the negress screeched, trying unsuccessfully to move out of his reach as
he pushed her stumbling into a line. Her squirming movements loosened her baggy trousers,
which dropped to her ankles in a yellow puddle of material.
Harry gritted his teeth in frustration at his inability to help as the huge pirate
gave the rather large rounded cheeks of the woman's bare bottom a smack as she endeavoured
to crouch down and pull up the garment with her fastened wrists.
“Might as well leave it, fatso, it's all coming off in a minute anyway,” the man
laughed. “I want you all lined up tit to arse, tight together, no gaps as you head off
into the shower room. And the same when you're going through the shower, keep it snappy
and keep together. You'll get to know each other real well I reckon,” he laughed.
With a helpless look, Harry saw his beloved Liz, squashed into the tight line with
Sergeant McDuff, one of their largest and most repugnant crew members, pressed tightly
against her softness from behind. Harry could imagine the man's lower regions eagerly
thrust against Liz's soft bottom as they shuffled off to the showers. Their enforced
silence allowed them to hear clearly into the shower room and Harry gritted his teeth
again when he heard the shouts and orders from within.
“Get their cuffs off. Right, all of you, strip, I want you all buck naked except
for your numbers, keep 'em on. I want a tight line, tit to arse, tit to arse. I don't
wanna see no light between you. Press together, go through in a chain slowly, slowly, keep
pressing together.”
Approximately a third of the crew were women but such sensibilities didn't mean a
thing to this rabble. Removing the baggy pyjamas Liz found it shamefully embarrassing to
be nude amongst her crew like this, but there was simply nothing she could do. The jets of
warm soapy water hissed, a roaring tattoo beating onto their bodies. She found herself
having to push her slippery, body tight against Lieutenant Rose Pierce in front of her.
Rose was in her early twenties and had been newly promoted to head of personnel on
Explorer. The firm cheeks of the Lieutenant's small rounded bottom were tight against her
pubic bush and her own soft breasts were squashed against the delectable curving spine of
the girl.
“Sorry, Lieutenant,” she managed to whisper into the girl's blushing ear beneath
her fair wavy hair.
Rose gave a shrug of her slim shoulders and an understanding, forgiving, flash of
her large green eyes. Liz could see now why Pierce was such a popular girl. She had often
wondered about how close the blonde beauty was to the handsome Lieutenant in charge of the
ship's Marines. Rose had a pretty, doll-like, face and her figure was as good as her sexy
eyes promised. Liz found herself even beginning to enjoy the sight and feel of the girl's
soft nudity pressed against her as they moved. Her small breasts with tiny pink nipples
glistened deliciously under the water's cascade. She could understand the interest of the
Marine officer.
Liz had to consciously get a grip of herself. She wasn't knowingly a lesbian and
she was responsible for all of these people in the acute danger they all shared. Perhaps
her unnatural feelings were brought on by her complete loss of control? She could do
nothing; she was here due to circumstances totally beyond her control.
Then a hard crude sliver of male flesh pushed obscenely against her bottom and she
certainly had no difficulty in turning her mind to matters. Temporarily she forgot Rose’s
soft soapy curves pressed against her hard nipples. She was sickened by the huge presence
of Sgt McDuff behind her. Liz had never liked the man and his ways, and he never really
seemed to accept her as his senior officer. Now he took full licence as she felt his
thickening manhood pushing hard up between the globes of her soapy bottom, the hair from
his chest tickling her spine. His large hands brushed her thighs as they shuffled through
the showers. Feeling sick, turning round to glare at the bastard she squirmed away from
the marauding fingers as best she was able.
After the line had slowly moved through they had to repeat the process, but with
plain water to rinse them. A third time through and hot air blasted out to practically dry
them. Near the end, each crewmember had to stand hands above their head, slowly turning
whilst de lousing powder was puffed onto them.
Liz looked away as a grinning pirate made Rose turn her inviting body oh so slowly
while he lovingly squirted the powder, even taking the liberty of rubbing it into her
feminine curves. Then he slapped her bottom to send her scampering off to find her
discarded outfit.
Next came her turn and she had to repeat the same humiliating performance before
the grinning gap toothed pirate. As she turned like a ballerina, Liz couldn't help but
notice the smirk on McDuff's face, drinking in her body, which the bastard had probably
drooled over for months in his dreams - or probably whilst she gave him orders. Liz had to
look away as he looked pointedly at the orbs of her thrusting breasts, and then down at
his stiff organ swinging before him, pointing towards her. There was no way to escape the
familiar hands of the pirate, smoothing the horrible smelling powder onto her pubis, belly
and breasts and patting her backside to indicate she could leave and dress.
Many of the prisoners, including herself, used the toilets in the shower block.
Although there were no doors, there was a modicum of privacy and Liz hastily squatted
whilst McDuff was being de loused.
Like pale ghosts under the thin coating of powder, the prisoners, hand cuffed
again, were led back to the main hall. Liz, smiling bravely, caught Harry's eye before he
and the others in the second batch were taken for their showers.
When Harry and his colleagues had been brought back they sat in silence on the
opposite bench. The pirates had caught two crew members talking and the lashing the man
and woman received from a crop ensured no one else disobeyed that order.
Time passed slowly. The captives guessed that it must be evening by the ship's
time. They were tired and hungry. It was all part of the wearing down process, they
realised.
Eventually most of the crew drifted awkwardly to sleep and only awoke, disoriented,
when two of the pirates passed down the line popping tiny concentrated food and drink
tablets into everyone’s mouths. It was the mush that deep space crews of small vessels
took to sustain them when there were no proper food and drink facilities on board.
Although it was unappetising, it was at least nourishing.
A ripple went through the silently waiting prisoners when the huge barrel chested
pirate who had ordered them into the showers stood before them again with another
announcement.
“Interrogation time, ladies and gentlemen,” he said sarcastically. “You will be
questioned individually and your stories will be double checked with each other's. I think
you already know that it would be very unwise to lie,” he said with a wink and a grin.
“First, numbers 1 to 6 will stand to be taken for questioning.”
Harry gritted his teeth as four men and two women from his crew were led away. More
time passed, more numbers were called out and the prisoners were led away; none were
brought back. He knew the time would come, but it still hit him like a mule kicking his
stomach when Liz's number 15 was called out. Their eyes briefly met. Then a sun-scorched,
Arabic looking pirate, who was guiding her arm, obscured his view as beautiful Liz, second
in command of the mighty Explorer, was led away to her fate.
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