Wonder Woman and the Wreck of the U-235

April 17th, 1945. Beneath the waters of the Kattegatt Strait

Another low, rolling boom echoed against the hull.

"BOW PLANES NOT RESPONDING, KAPITAN!!!!" - who was that, Immelmann?

"SHE'S DOWN BY THE BOW - 20O …220…25O KAPITAN! SHE'S NOT ANSWERING THE HELM!!!"Immelmann for sure.

"SCREWS GETTING CLOSER" - Svenner , on sonar, loud, but clear and professional. Unpanicked, though he above all could hear their death approaching, listening on one headphone to avoid the deafening sound of the depth charges. German depth charges.

"FLOODING IN FORWARD TORPEDO ROOM!" - Lodz, the second officer.

"HATCHES CLOSED KAPITAN!!" - Ost, good old Ost, his Exec and always on the ball.

A cacophony of voices, all shouted at once. These were his men.

Yet another boom.Closer still.

More rivets popping, more jets of water from leaking valves spraying into their little metal tomb.

Time to be the Kapitan again."Radio, anything?REPEAT IN THE CLEAR!"KapitanBrentner barked as he steadied himself by clinging on to a valve as the angle of descent worsened.

"Depth?...DEPTH,DAMMIT, CARL!!!"

"150 METRE, KAPITAN!" - Rutjer. 150 metres.Nearly the bottom here. Shit.

"Radio, anything?"

"We have no aerial, Kapitan…their first attack hit the radio mast, we are under wa----" - BOOOOOM -" water, " Mann stammered "without it they will not hear us very well…."

"JUST BLOODY DO IT!! TELL THEM WE ARE GERMAN FOR GOD'S SAKE" - and for oursake too, he thought. Poor leadership, shouting at your men like that.

"YESSIR!!!" Mann started to repeat "German surface vessel,German surface vessel, cease attack, repeat CEASE ATTACK, we are the U:-235 out of Kiel !" he knew it would do no good, but it was worth a try. Anything was worth a try.

The red emergency lighting came on, instantly transforming his crew into demons. Frightened, doomed, demons.Another boom.Nearer.

A buzz on the inter-compartment telephone ."THE DOOR KAPITAN!OPEN THE HATCH!" Brandt, in the forward torpedo room.The flooded forward torpedo room. All that would get out of there was Willi Brandt's voice. Torpedo officer Willi 'Lucky' Brandt. The only member of the watch on board who survived when this accursed tub was bombed in dock at Kiel in '43 by the Amerikans. Lucky Willi.Lucky no more."KAPITAN!!!KAPIT---" the line went dead, the sound of rushing water the last transmission. Another boom.Very loud."Screws almost on top of us Kapitan!"Svenner, almost crying now. The pain from the explosions of the depth charges must be almost unbearable through the hydrophones.He was still trying to listen on one ear, but was pulling it away more and more often. Then again, maybe it wasn't the pain, maybe he was just afraid of dying and didn't want to hear the sound of death approaching. And who could blame him for that?

"Flooding in for'ard crew quarters" Liene, the junior officer of the watch, said quietly, his voice shaking as the hull did, with the shockwaves.

"GET HER NOSE UP DAMMIT!!!"

"SHE'S NOT ANSWERING!! WE'RE LOSING HER!!!" even Ost sounded scared. Another boom.

Nothing for it. "BLOW TANKS, AFT PLANES TO FULL ELEVATION , BOW PLANES MAXIMUM ALSO"

"BOW PLANES AYE!"

"RIGHT BALLAST RUPTURED KAPITAN!" Grunfeld, monitoring the trim. "LEFT ONLY PARTIALLY BLOWN…NO CHANGE IN ATTITUDE"

"DEPTH 190 KAPITAN" Rutjer tensed…."200…."

Should hit bottom any second . "BOW PLANES NOT ANSWERING …."

A juddering clang shook the control room violently.

"BOTTOM" Rutjer said, needlessly. Another boom, slightly farther off.

"Screws farther off."Svenner, more composed. Another boom, more distant still.

Brentner put a hand on Mann's shoulder, who was still dutifully repeating his radio message.

"Enough. DAMAGE REPORT!"

The sub was still listing at a crazy angle, forcing all to cling on and lean against the dip.

A final, distant boom. "Screws fading…………….she's gone." Svenner breathed out audibly relieved.

Ost saw his commander slump with the release of tension. "Reverse engines, slow!"

Brentner looked at the frightened faces, probably mirrors of his own. What could he tell them? He knew, with the amount of water they had shipped and the ballast tanks ruptured, that this was their grave.The u:-boat academy didn't brief you for hopeless situations. What a pointless, stupid waste. The bloody tub had only had 3 missions, never fired a torpedo in anger,never even seen an Allied ship. Been bombed and sunk once,in dock, re-floated and now sunk by a German patrol boat. Bloody jinxed boat. Its only purpose in the entire war, it seemed, was to serve as a tomb for him and the 46 other men on board.

"Engine room reports batteries are dead Kapitan. The water…"Ost trailed off.

Of course they were.

Oh, this war. He sighed, resignedly.All but over.Hopelessly lost. The allies across the Rhine; the Russians at the gates of Berlin. And yet we still fight. For what?The glory of the Reich. Our cities are dust, our people dead or doomed. Like us, he thought. What the hell were we thinking when we started this madness? And the rumours of the camps. Dear God.If those stories were even half true…And all for what?The dreams of a madman.He didn't even know what his sealed orders were for this mission, they hadn't been at sea long enough for him to open them. His sailing orders were to make for Tromso and open them there.Maybe their mission would have won the war? He laughed to himself.

The compartment telephone again, this time Ost answered. "It's Molke in the engine room, sir…he's…he's asking if were sinking!"

Brentner smiled at the absurdity of the question."Tell him, 'No' Dieter. Tell him we're already sunk."

KapitanBrentner stared at the deck. And who would miss them, down here in this metal mausoleum? Who would care for their fate? Who would wonder where they were? Who would search for them? And who would ever find them, down here in the cold and the dark? Long dead.

---

WASHINGTON DC, Present day.

Diana Prince let out along, weary sigh, blowing out her cheeks and letting he

r breath slip through a small 'o' at the centre of her ruby- red lips. She hated typing up her reports. It wasn't the actual act of typing,it was having to type so slowly. When you have trained your hand eye co-ordination to deflect bullets, using that same skill and dexterity to type quickly was a breeze. But people would notice. So, she had to deliberately slow herself down, go through the tedium of using a more modest rate of words per minute. But that didn't stop her hating it. She pushed her superfluous glasses higher up onto her exquisite nose and looked at the monitor screen. Spellchecker found her usual zero mistakes. She saved the file and looked up at the clock. Briefing in 15 minutes. She rose elegantly from her seat, smoothing her pencil skirt down over her trim hips with both hands as she strolled to stare out of the window at the world, wondering what it could be about. Nothing from the other agencies that made up the Inter Agency Defence Command that employed her. No international incidents. Noobvious home threats. Steve would fill her in when she got there. She smiled to herself. If only. The absolute image of his father. She was never quite sure these days if when she thought of him she was fantasising about senior or junior. He was fit, athletically built and handsome, with that same lovely, warm smile of his father's. She found it hard to keep her distance and preserve a professional relationship. She was a woman afterall, and she had the same needs as others. There were times for romance and then there were times when all a gal needed was a good, hard, fuck up against a wall. She blushed slightly at the thought. Having spent long years solely surrounded by women with an innate mistrust of men, Steve's bravery, kindness and compassion had won her over to the notion that maybe not all men were enemies. And from that, having only had experience of exploring her own body and those of her sister Amazons, it was natural to wonder what it would be like with Steve. It was hard to keep her feelings repressed. And speaking of hard, just the mere thought of him had caused the blood to rush to her aureoli, her ever- hardening nipples poking through the holes in the lace bra she was wearing, through the gaps to press softly against the silk of her functional white blouse. Absently, she twirled her right index finger around the slight shadow on her chest, slowly circling the protruding nipple. She checked her watch. Did she dare to? Now, before the meeting?

She had 14 minutes, they would wait for her; she could always be a minute or two late. Still time, so why the hell not? A bit of time for herself, when she didn't put the free world first, for once. A woman had needs, even a Wonder Woman. She quickly locked the office door, sped over to her desk, unlocked a drawer, reached to the back of it , under some papers, and removed a slender white wand, the end shaped like a bishop's mitre. Like a naughty schoolgirl she bit her bottom lip as she twisted the flat cylindrical end. The "vibro-snake" as it was branded, sprang into life with a low whirr, the vibrations shaking delightfully through the tips of her fingers. She turned to face the window, as she was five floors up she knew she would be unobserved , and perched her delectable ass on the edge of her desk asshe unzipped her skirt , hitching the hem up to allow her to raise her left leg and perch it on the edge of her chair. She turned the waist band slightly, standing up briefly to do so, to allow her right hand and the wand easy access to her womanhood. Closing her eyes, with her left forefinger she started to touch and caress her left breast through the luxurious soft silk of her blouse, cupping and gently squeezing her teat, toying, tweaking and teasing the nipple slowly. She moanedsoftly, throwing her head back with pleasure as she slipped the wand inside the hungry open mouth of her skirt, her right hand pressing the tip of the wand lightly against the soft ,sheer lace and silk panties she wore. She moved it down to the base of her cleft, pressing in slightly to give herself a cameltoe she would never see but took exquisite pleasure in feeling; then she moved up , right along the ridge of her crack; on up to the top of her panties, where the micro quakes sent rippling pulses through the quivering flesh of her flattened abdomen; her breathing becoming faster as she slipped it down, beneath the elastic waistband of her black lace underwear, down towards her sex.She had her head back, chin up and eyes closed, a slow, low, quiet moan emitting from her lips, her teeth biting down harder on her bottom lip as the pleasure mounted from the sensations occurring at her lower lips. She moved the wand up, then down, around and in, repeating the process, taking extra delight as the plastic shook and teased her hood, feeling her body respond unbidden to the stimulus, her own sexual juices starting to form, lubricating the invader, making access to her body easier, deeper. She moaned again, long and slow.

In the depths of her pleasure, Diana, ever practical, realised she hadn't checked to make sure she had tissues to hand, for when she came, in case her pleasure betrayed her. It wouldn't do to stain her skirt before the meeting! What would Steve think!

And it was as she opened her eyes to locate some tissues, that she saw the window cleaner. He was on a gantry outside watching goggle eyed as she pleasured herself, grinning like a maniac. She screamed aloud and jumped up with a start that must have surprised him too, as he fell back against the safety railings. As, panic stricken, she adjusted her dress ,she looked on in horror as he slowly toppled backwards over the edge of his platform.

"NOOOOO!!!!!" she cried desperately , reflexively reaching out a powerless hand. At that point, Steve knocked urgently at her door and tried to enter.

"Diana! Are you ok? What's going on?"

"Oh dear Goddess, NO!!" She cried as she saw the young man fall.

"DIANA!" cried Steve, hearing her exclamation, trying the door again and rattling it on its hinges.

The window cleaner managed to get hold of the railings with one hand, and then to her relief she saw that he was wearing a safety tether afterall.

"I'm fine Steve!" she called, as, skirt re-zipped, she rushed over to the window, sliding the full pane to one side just as Steve burst in through the door with a shoulder charge. The cleaner now had both hands gripping the safety rail as first Diana and then Steve, once he saw the situation, helped the man climb back aboard the rig, hauling him up with an arm each until his foot found purchase and he was able to swing first one leg then the other back onto the platform and safety.

Diana couldn't make eye contact with the young man and was acutely aware that she was blushing furiously.

"Phew, that was close" Steve said. "Lucky Diana was in her office and saw you fall."

"Yeah…" said the young man "lucky I saw her too…." He added quietly, recovering his lecherous grin.

"Er.. ,yes…well…we have that briefing. I'm glad you're O.K." said Diana, forcing the window closed again on the young window cleaner, still grinning at her.

Smiling still, the young man offered a dry rag that was draped over the edge of his pail "Here, you may want to dry your insides …" he said , his grin widening mischievously.

Steve was completely oblivious to the innuendo as he responded "That's fine,thanks, someone else will see to her insides later."

"I bet they will …" muttered the maintenance man in a tone too low to hear, as Diana finally closed the window tight.

Flustered, she grabbed her file of latest intelligence reports, papers and tablet computer off her desk and hurried towards the door.

Steve picked up her wand from the desk, asking innocently "Do you need this? Whatever this is…" he started to inspect it , turning it over in his hands. Before he could read the brand name, Diana nervously pulled it from him "Oh ha ha! That, that's just a ….a… a make upapplicator.Haha" she said with forced levity.

"Oh. You gals and your beauty products.All a mystery to me.It feels slightly damp?" Steve says wiping his hands on a tissue from her desk.

"Oh it must be leaking." She quickly wrapped it in more tissues and thrust it hastily into her drawer."Shall we? Briefing room 2 wasn't it?"

"Yeah,sure"Steve starts to lead the way. "Say, why was your door locked anyway?"

"Oh, just basic security… I always lock it when I'm working on something….. sensitive…." which was true.

As they walked down the corridors to briefing room 2, stopping en route to make arrangements to repair Diana's office door, she still turned heads. As Wonder Woman, the spectacularly beautiful Amazon, she was used to men falling head over heels for her, probably on account of her costume leaving so little to the imagination.But even in her alter ego's somewhat drab office clothes, she was still a beautiful woman. High cheek bones; a firm jaw; long jet black hair swept back in a pony tail; strong, round shoulders below an elegant neck; her ample bosom hidden beneath her white silk blouse and business jacket, buttoned at the slender hips; her long legs showing the graceful sweep of her calves above her modestly high heeled shoes. As the window cleaner would describe her in the bar to his buddies that night, she was 'eminently fuckable'.

Steve, ever the gentleman, waited in Briefing room 2 for her to sit before seating himself. There was one other occupant, a balding man in his early forties , slightly overweight in a pale grey suit , who half roseas she sat, nodding politely.

"Diana, this is Special Agent Franks, he heads up a …certain government department that has an interest in Homeland Security . Diana Prince, one of our best agents." Steve completed the introductions.

The stranger rose again, shaking hands with her politely."Jason Franks…I represent certain… multiple government interests. You'll understand, I can't say too much…"

'Too much!!' she thought, he hadn't said anything!

Franks was obviously quite captivated by the plainly dressed woman before him. Totally unprofessionally, he found himself wondering what underwear she was wearing. And stockings or pantyhose? He shook his head slightly and laughed nervously, "Trevor, we'd best get on…" dragging his eyes from her.

"Sure. Diana, do you know who a Doctor Catherine Garston is?"

She shook her head, frowning as she tried to recollect the name.

"Good. No reason why you should. At least it proves security is up to scratch." He smiled. "Doctor Garston was working on a…" Franks interjects with a nervous cough "-certain project, until 6 weeks ago. Then for no apparent reason, she left the facility one afternoon and didn't return."

Franks took up the story, sliding some documents over to her, which had clearly been heavily censored. "We thought she may have been abducted by foreign powers, but it turns out she had actually checked herself into a psychiatric clinic. That is, until last week when she discharged herself. Doctor Garston was…is… one of this country's leading scientists; she is primarily a physicist but her work crosses multiple disciplines. It seems she has suffered a bit of a breakdown." Franks pushed a remote control button on a handset and the large screen at the end of the table flashed into life.

"This is a tape from one of her therapy sessions at the clinic."

A pretty, though dishevelled woman with blonde hair, in her late twenties-early thirties appears , dressed in a plain blue blouse and jeans, sitting, arms folded on the edge of her chair , she is rocking her upper body back and forth. Her voice sounds distant and broken as she repeats the same words over and over again, like a mantra,

"I gotta get to that sub. I gotta find the wreck. I gotta find that sub for my Little Boy.Igotta find the wreck, I gotta find the U-235 for my Little Boy, they 've been down at the bottom so long. GOTTA GET TO THAT SUB! GOTTA FIND THE WRECK!! GOTTA FIND THE U:-235!!"

Franks let the tape run for several minutes of her repeating the same phrases over and over.

"It goes on like that for the full hour, then once her therapy session is over , she's back to normal."

"The U:-235? That would be an old Nazi German submarine from World War II , wouldn't it?" Diana asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, we checked it out thoroughly, a completely non- descript boat. Never did anything all war except get bombed and sunk. Got bombed by U.S. B17's in dock in Kiel in '43 , got repaired and re-floated and then the poor bastards - oh sorry Miss Prince, excuse my language - managed to get sunk by their own side in April '45, three weeks before the war ended . Lost with all hands, it's all there in the file," he slid a second A4 folder over to her, stamped with the words 'Most SECRET'. Diana pulled it over to her and started to flick through its contents, "Cargo?" she asked.

"That's what we were wondering. We've been in contact with the National U-boat museum archive in Kiel, Germany. They supplied us with most of that file. It seems she was just on a mail run to Norway when she went down off Denmark. Nothing special in the manifest and her orders were just to hole up in Tromso when the end came, looks like they were planning to use it for war reparations to the Norwegians."

"So why do you need IADC involvement?" asked Diana , wrinkling her nose in an adorable way.

Hose and black lace panties, Franks arbitrarily decided, absent mindedly, to himself. He snapped himself out of his reverie as he realised he was staring at those shapely crossed knees and the slightly inviting 'V' formed by the skirt in the dip of her lap.

"Well, to be honest,its more Wonder Woman's involvement we were after…" said Franks, as Diana perked up, sitting straighter in her chair. She laughed nervously "Wonder Woman?!!! What on earth gave you the idea…? I mean what makes you think she has anything to do with me? Steve has met her more than I have…" she desperately tried not to sound forced but natural.

"Precisely. We don't know how to contact her but it seems she does have a close association with your department. When you two start investigating something then she often makes an appearance. Doctor Garston has discharged herself and is missing, current whereabouts unknown.

'Dammit'! Thought Diana. People had noticed. Well it was only a matter of time. After all her 'disguise' only consisted of a pair of glasses and her hair tied back. It was amazing no one had put 2 and 2 together before , really.

"But why do you need to get hold of Wonder Woman? If Doctor Garston hasn't been kidnapped, and is just ill, you surely just have a missing persons case , o.k. a serious one, but not a direct threat to national security?"

Franks dragged his eyes away from the sweeping curve of her breast and back to the screen, where he pressed a button and jumped to a pre -marked point in the video. "Because of this."

Doctor Garston's frozen image sprang into life.

"You hear me Wonder Woman? I'm gonna find that sub. I'm gonna find the wreck, find the U:-235 for my Little Boy, AND THEN I'M GONNA MAKE YOU PAY FOR LEAVING MY FATHER TO DIE!!!YOU HEAR ME AMAZON? YOU'RE GONNA PAY, YA HEAR ME? " She was standing now , screaming at the camera.

"And they let her go in that condition? " asked Steve , incredulously.

"She was fine outside of the therapy sessions and as she was self admitted, they couldn't keep her" said Franks.

"Her father?" asked Diana, desperately trying to think of anyone called Garston that she had dealings with as Wonder Woman.

"Her father was the marine salvage expert…er…."-Franks checked his notes-"…er…Richard Allenby."

The name chilled Diana to the bone. There were very few occasions when Wonder Woman had failed in her goal to rescue someone. Allenby was one of them. It had been 3 years earlier. She had been on the USN salvage vessel Grasp . Allenby and three of his men had been in a small submersible, the Ariadne, as they were trying to recover something from a post war French supply submarine, the Nautile , that had developed engine trouble and then sunk under tow in rough weather, back in the '60's. The Nautile_had rolled in an undersea 'quake, trapping the _Ariadne . They had managed to get a rescue diving bell down to the men but the hatches on Ariadne were blocked by debris and they were unable to get aboard the rescue bathesphere. Diana had heard the emergency radio traffic at the IADC and, as Wonder Woman, had offered to help. Flying to the West coast in her invisible plane, a Navy helicopter had then dropped her aboard the Grasp. With her superhuman abilities she hoped to be able to free the sub or at least the hatch to allow a rescue…

USS GRASP, marine salvage and undersea rescue vessel, three years earlier.

As she walked out on deck , high above her two off duty ratings were enjoying a smoke on the bridge coamingof the Grasp. The taller one slammed the back of his hand into the belly of his friend as he saw the slim, blue clad figure emerge below.

"OOOFFFFF! Jesus, Tommy!!! What d'ya do that for?"

"Check _THAT_out !" said Tommy, appreciatively.

"PHEEEEWWW-WEEEE! I knew women were supposed to be that shape, I knew it, I knew it!!!" his friend said with a low whistle.

"Easy, boy, I saw her first. Man, Dave, look at the shape on her…." Tommy was lost for words.

Below them, Wonder Woman , in her royal blue figure hugging swimming suit, complete with hood, walked to the edge of the deck.

"Christ Dave, that's gotta be painted on her! Look at that ass!!!" said Tommy, with obvious lust. "Ain't seen no wet suit that tight before. Hey….hey, she's goin' in…she ain't got no gear! Hey, HEYYY SOMEONE STOP THAT CRAZY BITCH SHE'LL KILL HERSEL' !!!" He shouted, panic stricken.

Dave was more relaxed. "Don't you know nuthin'? That chick is Wonder Woman, she can do anything."

Wonder Woman smoothed her blue suit down over her svelte hips with her palm. A crew man gave her a mouth piece attached to a long airline, coiled around a cylinder to pay it out as she went deeper. Divers were hampered by suits at that depth, but with her unique physical attributes she felt a dive on an oxygen line would leave her free to release the hatch using her superior physical strength. The rescue diving bell could hold 5, including its crew of one. That meant Allenby and his crew of 3 could all get aboard the diving bell whilst she could return to the surface using the airline.

She stood , feet together, on the edge of the deck, pulled down her goggles, inserted the mouthpiece, nodded acknowledgement to the various cries of 'Good luck' that rang out, and lastly made the O.K. sign by circling her thumb and forefinger in response to the deck hands' questions.

Her muscles tightened in her butt cheeks as breathed in, the two sailors paying out her airline grinned as if they had the best job in the world as they enjoyed the view.

She spread her arms wide, lightly sprung forward on her toes and with a graceful dive plunged into the calm waters. She followed the bathysphere line down into the depths until she had reached the gloomy silhouette of the large French Submarine, it's decaying bulk dwarfing the Ariadne_trapped beneath her. Allenby's sub had rolled slightly to starboard, and had taken some of the decaying deck housing of the conning tower with it. The mangled railings of the conning tower and external ladder were wrapped around _Ariadne's hatch. At the porthole of the bathysphere, the young lieutenant could hardly believe his eyes as he saw the beautiful vision in blue that swam up to him. He pointed downto the hatch in the bottom of the bell, and Wonder Woman nodded and shortly entered the rescue vessel.

"WOW!" The young man said amazed. "Lieutenant Mike Doyle, ma'am. If you can clear the wreckage we should be able to get the guys aboard in just a few minutes". Wonder Woman nodded. They used the radio to communicate their intentions to the Ariadne._Allenby himself acknowledged, seeminglygrateful , calm and professional. Back in the water, Wonder Woman had used her strength to clear the hatch easily enough, but as the hatches had locked and the three crew started to get aboard the bell, a second seaquake caused the _Nautile_to move, first snagging, then cutting Wonder Woman's airline. Through the observation windows of _Ariadne, Allenby saw her predicament as the wreck stabilised. Wonder Woman took a last deep breath as her line snapped,her flattened rib cage and taut stomach muscles suddenly grew painful under the pressure. Allenby had re-sealed the Ariadne_hatch and Doyle manoeuvred the diving bell a few feet away, Allenby gesturing for Wonder Woman to re-board. Reluctantly she realised even she could never hope to regain the surface on one breath, and had re-joined Doyle. A third massive aftershock rocked the vessels, the _Nautile_conning tower slamming against the diving bell. The crushing pressures caused the hull plates to buckle under the impact, and Wonder Woman found herself straddling the hatch in the floor of the vessel, her arms braced, supporting the fragile shell of the diving bell from the pressures of the deep. All in there realised there was now no way for Allenby to board them. Doyle thumbed the radio. " Er… _Ariadne, Ariadne, this is the Little Fat Guy…er..._Doc we got a problem…"_ he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Little Fat Guy from Ariadne, I know. It's alright, I'm alright. You just get to the surface. You can come back for me. "The screech of the grinding metal as the French sub shifted said otherwise. "And just…just tell Alex it was-" a searing crash, boom and burst of exploding air accompanied the fierce shaking of the fourth seaquake. With her muscles straining Wonder Woman cried desperately "Get her up!!!I can't hold her for long!!"

And so she had returned with Allenby's crew, though he himself had perished. They never did identify the 'Alex ' he referred to. She had asked the Navy about his relatives but they confirmed that he only had a daughter, and she was named Catherine Andrea, and with the last transmission cut off they only had 'It was-' to pass on to them anyway….

---

WASHINGTON, present day.

Diana, of course, could not let on that she knew these facts and sat with feigned interest as Franks recounted the tale. When he had finished she turned to Steve.

"So what do we know about Dr. Garston's son?"

Steve sighed. "That's what's so weird. She has no children that we can trace, so who she means when she talks about her 'little boy' is anybodies guess. We are checking foster and adoption agencies but we think it's because she was delusional, though it might be this 'Alex' her father mentioned that we couldn't trace after his death, possibly his grandson.

"So what do you want me to do?" asked Diana.

"Concentrate on this U:-boat angle. Given the threat to Wonder Woman it's possible it was carrying something that might be harmful to her, maybe some kind of Nazi secret weapon that Garston heard about somehow, and now intends to use it against her. Of course it could be part of her insanity but we are treating it as a real threat." said Steve.

"Why exactly?" said Diana, uncrossing and re-crossing her long smooth legs.' Christ , I'd bang that seven ways 'til Sunday' thought Franks, watching her intently.

"The good doctor withdrew her entire savings and liquidised all her financial assets, like she was making a war chest for whatever she has planned. Plus rumour has it she's been recruiting every low life in 'Frisco that she can get her hands on, but remotely through middle men. It also seems likely that she has some kind of connection with the hiring of this ship." The screen flickered again and a blurred picture of a very rusty old salvage vessel appeared. "This is '_The Paradise Princess'."_Diana smiled to herself at the name - small world. "It's been at sea for over a month, returned to 'Frisco last week, the same day Doctor Garston discharged herself. Financial checks show her credit cards paid for its fuel before it set out. We're watching it at the moment but so far no sign of the good doctor."

"But the U:-boat wouldn't have gone down in the Pacific, surely? " asked Diana

"No, it was lost in the Kattegatt Strait off Denmark. It's all there, in the file. The whole thing just makes no sense." Franks found himself staring at her legs once again. They were like a siren song for him. But this time, Diana noticed and made an effort to pull her skirt down to hide herself.

Franks desperately needed a cold shower. He suddenly realised he needed to hold the briefing folder over his lap too.

"Right, I'll go through the file and see what I can turn up." She rose, and Franks rose too. He was blushing as he desperately tried to hide his obvious arousal with the file. Mischievously, Diana asked with mock innocence "Could I see that file for a second?" reaching out to remove the folder covering his groin.

"Errr…its…err… the same as yours!" Franks said hurriedly, moving around the conference table and sitting back down.

"Oh sure, how silly of me." Diana answered sweetly. "Well , we can't guarantee to get a hold of Wonder Woman but I'm sure Steve will do his best".

' If only he would get a hold of me' she thought.

The meeting broke up and she returned to her battered office. She read the file, learned little and decided to speak with the head of the U:-boat Museum Archive directly. But first, maybe Wonder Woman should call on Steve. She drew the blinds , checked the corridor and closed the door. With a twirl and a flash of light the dowdy garb of Diana Prince disappeared, as did Diana herself. In her place, stood a proud Amazonian Princess. Her raven black hair was bounded at her temple by a broad, golden tiara, a single red jewelled star mounted at its centre , below a slight, rising point. The jet black silken locks fell down onto strong bare shoulders, her neck and her collarbone clearly defined by her taut muscles. The curve of her shoulders swept down to slender yet deceptively strong arms, as her hair curls and bunches just below the neck. Her spectacular bosom rises and falls evocatively with each breath she takes, barely contained by the red and gold bustier top, a golden eagle's wings splayed out as if to shield her breasts from evil. Her ribs strain against the red satin fabric as her thumb and forefinger of each hand rest on her impossibly shapely hips at her thin but lovely waist. Her blue and white star spangled briefs snugly fit the magnificent curve of her ass, the high cut over her inner thighs revealing an inviting glimpse of flesh either side of her crotch. All covered over by her smooth satin tights, sweeping down over her voluptuously firm thighs to a pair of just- above- the- knee bright red boots, with a broad white stripe up their centre. If Franks had been aroused by Diana, he would have had a coronary if he'd seen her in the flesh as Wonder Woman.

She stopped by Steve Trevor's office, asking if he had seen Diana. Delighted, as ever, by her appearance, he briefed her on the situation.' If only he would de-brief her sometime' she thought. The formality of out of the way, she made her excuses to Steve and left, to return to Diana's office. Now Wonder Woman had a valid reason to know all that Diana Prince knew. Making sure Steve didn't follow, she transformed back into Diana. Checking the time in Kiel , she got the phone number from the file and rang the archive curator, ArchivDirektorGrünschlad. In flawless German, she introduced herself as Wonder Woman, in case the name carried more weight with him than that of a simple government agent. She asked him to review the history of U:-235 in case anything was missed in the file. Grünschlad readily related the sad tale. No, they were carrying nothing but mail other than the torpedo quota of 18 warheads on that last voyage. No, no passengers. No, no secret weapons. No , there were no survivors. Yes, it was lost in the Kattegatt Strait, sunk by the German patrol boat T-11. A tragic accident. Such mistakes were common in war time. Some subs were trying to get secret plans and materials to Japan at that late stage in the war, but she was not one of them. For example plans for the V- rockets or radioactive materials for Japan to continue the struggle, but Unterseebooten:-235 was not one of them. It was just an ordinary boat, doing an ordinary job. Just a mail run to Norway, principally to get it away from Kiel for when the city fell. The sub still had a value as a bargaining chip in the war reparations that Germany would have to pay when she lost the war. No, nothing secret, nothing special. No, no problem at all, Happy to help. As the conversation ended ,Grünschlad hung up the phone. "Wunderbar Frau. " he muttered to himself. "Mein Gott", shaking his head. His wife wouldn't believe him.

On the other side of the Atlantic, Diana too, was shaking her head. She decided to mentally review what they had. A government scientist, Catherine Garston, loses her father in an accident. Walks out on her job, disappears for weeks, checks into a clinic.She goes crazy, swears vengeance against Wonder Woman, babbles a message about finding the wreck a World War Two German U:-Boat, and a child she doesn't seem to have, disappears again. Hires a ship to - to do what? A salvage ship, at that.Hires a group of reprobates, presumably as crew. All on the west coast, for a sub that sank in European waters. Why would she want the U:-boat? 'I'm gonna find that sub,gonna find that wreck, gotta find the U:-235 for my little boy' , What child did she mean? Could she mean? Was the child the 'Alex' that her father had tried to get a message to, just before he died? Maybe.Maybe someone else. The sub carried nothing important, so why did she need it? Something else though nagged at her, something Grünschlad had said. Some subs had tried to carry secret plans and war materials to Japan at the end of the war, but the U:-235 had not been one of them.

Why would the salvage ship venture out into the Pacific for a sub lost off Denmark. Unless…unless they were after a different sub. The full horror of the threat facing her as Diana and as Wonder Woman hit home. She rose quickly from her desk and rushed to Steve's office. Despite being in the guise of Diana she found herself muttering beneath her breath 'No, oh, Goddess Aphrodite, NO!' as she ran down the corridor. When she reached his office, she didn't knock but burst in, flinging the door wide, startling Steve behind his desk.

"Diana! That's quite an entrance , you wrecking my door because I bust yours? Did you see Wonder Woman she was looking for you earli-"

"Never mind that!!!! Get hold of Franks, I know what she's up to!!"

"Ok, calm down I'll call his cell. You mind closing the door and telling me what this is all about?" he asked as he consults a rollerdex and then dials a number as she closes the door and sits down breathlessly, her bosom heaving beneath her blouse.

"She's gonna make a bomb…" she pants.

"A bomb! We'd better warn Wonder Woman. What kind of bomb?"

"The worst kind."

"No answer" Steve mutters, hanging up. "You mean….?"

"She wants radioactive material, she's building a nuclear bomb!" Diana said through gritted teeth.

"But the U:-235 wasn't carrying anything like that…how do you know?"

"Grünschlad at the museum told me some subs carried radioactive materials to Japan, but you're right, he said that it wasn't one of them. But that got me thinking, why hire a west coast salvage boat to look for a sub in the Atlantic? Unless you are looking for a different sub . U:-235 isn't the sub that they are after. It's the material. U235 is depleted Uranium. WEAPONS GRADE . That's its atomic number!" Diana explained.

"Good god! But she said she needed to find the sub for her little boy…?"

"Yes, but not the U:-Boat 235, another sub. A sub with Uranium on board.A sub like the Nautile. I bet that French supply sub was ferrying nuclear materials for the French nuclear testing programme in the Pacific. It wouldn't be a complete bomb, they would have assembled separately transported components at the testing site, but I bet the Nautile had Uranium on board. That's what her father was trying to salvage for the Navy three years ago and that is what she was trying to get! She's played us for fools- she was never mad in those therapy sessions, she was deliberately feeding us false clues, just to get us chasing our tails."

"But what about her child? What about the reference to' her little boy'?

"'Little Boy' was the name of the bomb that you dropped on Nagasaki!"

"Well, I didn't do it personally Diana , but you are right. Dear lord, you are right!" said Steve in disbelief.

"Sorry Steve, I didn't mean you I meant America. I mean us. Us." She said hurriedly."She was just taunting us with the videos in the therapy sessions…giving us all we needed but deliberately leading us in the wrong direction… She wasn't crazy at all in that sense, she knew exactly what she was doing; deranged, yes , but with a purpose. You get hold of Franks, I'll warn Wonder Woman. I'm supposed to meet her in an hour, I'll brief her andmakemy way out to ' Frisco, hopefully it's still aboard the Paradise Princess."

"I'll notify our agents in the area and the local authorities…" Steve snatched up the phone.

"NO! You can't, there'd be mass panic! Wonder Woman is mostly seen here in DC, she may be headed right here! You get all our people to keep an eye on that boat and have strike teams ready, I'll head out west with Wonder Woman, take charge of things once I get out there, you head things up here with Franksin case she comes this way by air or overland. If she's gunning for Wonder Woman, DC may well be the target. Tell our people to watch the boat but not why. " Diana turned to leave.

"O.K. Oh, and Diana! Be careful . Tell Wonder Woman to take care too. We got no idea how far gone this nut job Garston is." Steve called.

"Will do." Diana hurried to a secret location, transformed into Wonder Woman, and one short invisible plane ride later, was in ' Frisco. She touched base with Steve, pretending to be in transit, and confirmed that the Paradise Princess was still docked at pier 69. It was nightfall as she approached the darkened silhouette of the ship….

---

Pier 69 , San Francisco Harbour.

The lights were on all along the ship's walkway, running below the upper tier where the bridge and funnel were visible. She had checked with the agents watching the ship in her Diana persona, told them to sit tight, then slipped past them as Wonder Woman. There was no sign of any crew and no gang plank to board her from the wharf. But that was no obstacle to the Amazon. With a slight bend of her strong tanned legs she leapt effortlessly up onto the stern deck. Listening for any sounds of life, she waits a moment before she makes her way carefully along the port walkway, moving cautiously past any porthole, her shoulders back against the wall of the superstructure. Though the interior is lit there are no signs of movement. With cat-like agility she moves along the walkway. She gets approximately halfway along its length when a sinister figure steps around the corner at the far end of the gangway. The man freezes on seeing her, slowly withdrawing his hands from the pockets of his battered reefer jacket. She expected him to hold a gun in them, but his hands are empty. His head, bowed slightly, rises slowly as his gaze locks on her. Wonder Woman tenses, her lips tightened together as she breathes through her nose, her feet planted apart, braced, ready for trouble, shaking her head slightly in frustration and regret at being discovered, she raises both her arms, fists clenched aggressively. But she is completely unprepared for what the stranger does next.

"Oh , 'ello miss!" he smiled, welcomingly."You must be Dr. Garston's visitor" he said with a slightly strange English accent. She recognised it as Cornish, and it sounded something like Robert Shaw's Quint character in jaws.

"I'm terrible sorry, like, I didn't mean to frighten ye" as he notices her fighting stance. He quickly moves to reassure her, extending both hands outwards , palms showing, fingers pointing up. "Oh no, no! No need for any o' that I assure ye! Please, miss, please come wi' me. I'll take you straight to 'er. Watch out for the ropes, mind . An' the deck can be a bit slippery. I'm James Tregenna by the way. Friends call me 'Jimmy', or 'JT', or 'Jimbo', or 'useless bastard'!" He grinned at her, slightly awkwardly, offering a hand that she ignored. "Err,….Right-oh, miss, follow me."He gestured back the way he came, took a few steps then realised that she isn't following him and turned back, smiling again, beckoning her. "It be o.k. miss, I assure you. I'm jus' tryin' to 'elp". He sees her reluctantly start to follow him and turns , four or five feet ahead of her, disappearing around the corner of the deck housing. Wonder Woman, slightly bemused but still wary, trots around the corner after him.

She catches sight of the crowbar at the last minute as she rounds the corner, just bringing up her arm in time and deflecting the wild swing away from her head with her bracelet. She sees just a glimpse of JamesTregenna, wide eyed and fearful, the crowbar gripped in both hands before the glancing blow comes down on her neck and left shoulder. Her legs bend at the knee slightly before she stiffens and they lock rigid under the impact. She winces at the blow, her vision starts to blur and swim. As her legs buckle and her head falls back, her last sight is of a second thug who appears behind a shocked looking James, before they both drop out of sight and she is left head bent back staring up at the light housing in the ceiling of the walkway, before her senses fail her completely and she is plunged into darkness.

"Aaaauuuugggghhhh- …………..huuuuuh"she sighs as her limp body collapses at her assailants feet, unconscious.

"Is she dead?" asks James desperately of his companion.

"Good work, English" the burly Frenchman named Romeré answered, slapping a shocked James on the back. Romeré squats over her, turning her head slightly with his first two fingers on her chin, bearing her throat as if for a vampire bite, her neck tendons standing and prominent. He drops the fingers down to her lovely neck to feel for her pulse.

"Alive" he says simply. "We were worried about you English. We thought you were …soft, is your word? Yes , weak". Tregenna swallowed hard. "But you really came good, my brother."

James Tregenna was shaking slightly as he said "Thank god she's alive". As Romeré looked up sharply, he continued "I mean, the boss wanted 'er alive, she'd be furious if I killed her".

The Frenchman shrugged indifferently. "You take 'er legs, English" he said shortly, as he stepped over her prone body. He squatted by her head, running the back of his hand against her cheek.

"Very pretty, yes?" he looked up at Tregenna.

"Aye, she is an' all" said the Englishman his accent now more his natural broad Cornish, the slightly more pronounced, well formed words he had used when he lured her around the corner now forgotten, replace by more gruff, clipped , terse phrases.

"Where we goin' wi' 'er then , eh boy?"

Romeré thought a moment. "We will put 'er in chartroom. Nice big table."

As Tregenna picked her up by the ankles, so Romeré slipped his forearms beneath her shoulders, taking a particular delight in slipping his hands beneath the top of her red bustier. The eagles wings could not protect her now. Tregenna shook his head . "Ain't right" he said simply as he moved his own hands up the back of her boots, up to rest behind her knees, lifting them either side of his own pelvis as Romeré straightened. His rough fingers squeezing and pressing the unresisting flesh of her breast as, senseless, she can do nothing to stop him, a wide leer on his face. Wonder Woman's head rolled, uncontrolled, from shoulder to shoulder as they walked, her chin on her chest.

"Hhhuuuuuuhhhh" she moaned softly as they placed her on the large table in the chartroom. Her eyelids started to flicker as she revives, but before she is fully conscious she feels a tough pair of hands clamp over her mouth, pinching her nostrils closed, depriving her of air.

"MMMMMMM!MMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmpppppppphhhhhhh……" is all she can mumble before complete darkness engulfs her once again. A distant voice with an English accent cries in alarm "Stop it! You're killing her!" before she hears no more.

She feels the cold metal of the table top chill her bare shoulders. She draws in a deep , shuddering breath between her barely parted lips. Her eyes still closed, she frowns as she turns her head slightly.Her neck and left shoulder ache from the blow. The hard table is unyielding beneath the back of her head. She remembers the man on the gangway. Stepping around the corner.Her following him.The sudden blow. She listens. There is a faint sound "Hmmm-hmmm-hmm" in the room with her and a deeper , more rhythmic hum coming through the table she is lying on. She realises it is someone singing , quietly. As the words sink into her consciousness, she hears the man singing more clearly, a strange, sea-shanty sound, over the deeper, vibrating hum.

"Do something for me, bo-oys,

If I should die at sea, bo-oys,

Write a little note, bo-oys,

Then cast it afloat, bo-oys!

Sayin' 'Bless you, bless you!

ALL you pretty girls!

Lovely, shy and witty girls,

By the quayside!

Bless you, bless you,

All you pretty girls!

Bless you for waiting there for me!'"

She could only hear the one voice. Off-key and flat, but enthusiastic. She was face up, and the metal table was broad. She flexed her arms slightly trying not to draw attention to herself. The song stopped suddenly and she froze, sensing the singer was looking her way. It resumed and there were a few other noises discernable as the clatter of someone pouring a cup of coffee, away from her, towards, the direction of her feet. She resumed flexing her arms. They were spread out straight and spread, she realised, towards the table corners. The ropes must be looped around the metal table legs, she reasoned. She wiggled her ass slightly, flattening the small of her back against the table, trying to feel if she still had her belt. It felt as if she did. She cautiously opened one beautiful eye a fraction, to a mere slit. A wall, with a nautical map, large scale, of the Pacific.A clock above it. A rack of pigeonholes with some rolled charts, above a large rectangular locker, presumably of more maps. A figure, moving around, beyond her feet. The singing grows louder as the figure moves to stand over her head as she shuts her eye, feigning unconsciousness. He stands by her head, leaning over her. She is about to flex her muscles to break her bonds when she feels him touch her and he starts to speak softly.

Warm, hard but incredible gentle fingers pull back the hair from above her temples, revealing the red jewelled star in the centre of her golden headband. His touch stops all thoughts of immediate escape, as he runs his fingers through her hair, delicately looping it behind her ears, gently hooking a loose strand at her mouth with his middle finger he pulls it back down , into place, the tip of his finger stroking down her left cheek to her jaw line, then down over the soft sensitive flesh of her exposed neck.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't stop it," he whispered hotly into her ear "so, so sorry" before he straightened and continued with his ditty, that, this time she recognised, was sung in James Tregenna's odd Cornish accent.

"I see your white arms wa-aving,

Over the sea, so gre-een.

My life is not worth sa-aving,

If you no more will be se-een!

Oooooh, bless you! Bless you!

All you pretty girls!

With your long hair in lovely curls

By the quayside.

Bless you! Bless you!

ALL you pretty girls!

Bless you for waiting by the quay"

As he sang, he ran his fingers through her hair, emerging at her shoulders. As his fingers touched her bare skin she found herself holding her breath, awaiting the contact and their next caress. He moved up the underside of each of her arms, his fingers splayed out forming not one but five points of contact on the soft, sensitive flesh. He moved over her elbows , up to her bracelets and the cord at her wrists. She could sense the yearning for her body in his touch, and secretly, it thrilled her.

Suddenly, something warm and wet splashes down in a single droplet onto the curve of her magnificent cleavage at her left breast, and rushes down the valley of her chest as if on an urgent mission to her navel.

"I-I am so sorry, for all of this…" he says, his voice shaking, as another tear splashes onto her bosom. Surprised, she opens her eyes suddenly to find him leaning over her, looking down at her with a face full of remorse, concern and … tenderness? He too starts in surprise, and pulls back hurriedly from her, hastily wiping at his eyes.

"Oh, you are awake!" he said with a break in his voice.

"I'm so sorry for what I have done to you. I never meant to hit you with that crowbar, I was trying to pull it off the wall and clobber that Fr-" before he can finish the door opens and the big man she had glimpsed earlier on the gangway steps into the room. Two other burly men enter behind him. He addresses her with a gruff, rural French accent.

"Ahh! Good. Awake. This is very good. I am Romeré. An' you… you are in the real trouble I think, ma cherie. Eh, English?" he smiled. The one called James had walked over to a smaller table, picking up a cup of coffee with his back to Romeré to hide his upset.

Wonder Woman took stock of her situation. Tied down, spread eagled; with ropes, not chains; they felt like nylon, she would check out the knots presently; four thugs, shouldn't be a problem, once she was off the table; the table itself -metal possibly screwed to the floor as this was a ship; unknown number of other crewmen beyond this room; the ship itself had been bigger at the wharf than the blurred photo in the file had suggested, she would guess at a crew of about 15- 20; a couple in the engine room; a couple on the bridge; with a crew this size and multiple watches at least one in the galley; so maybe another 6-8, besides these jokers, who may be an immediate threat adjacent to this room. No sign of the doctor. Nor of the bomb.Nor of the IADC agents, for that matter. She suddenly realised the vibrations she could feel slightly through the table top were the ships engines. So, they were underway. That was why the IADC agents hadn't stormed the boat. Steve would have been approached for orders in Diana's absence and he may figure an explosion at sea might minimise the damage and loss of life rather than in the harbour of a large city.

Romeré interrupts her thoughts as he roughly grabs her chin, her eyes blaze her proud defiance as he pulls her head to face his, forcing her to look up at him.He is a very big man, perhaps 6ft 4, perhaps taller, heavily built with strong powerful shoulders beneath a squat neck.

His black t-shirt is straining tightly to contain his bulging chest and shoulder muscles, trying to escape from beneath it. Rather oddly, emblazoned across the chest in large red, white and blue star spangled letters is the faded slogan "VOTE DUKAKIS". His face is worn, weathered and malicious; his chin rough with several days stubble; his nose is crooked and broken from a long ago fight; his hair is dark and closely cropped to his head. He looks ex-military, which indeed he was. On his fore arm were several tattoos, the most prominent a remarkably good rendering of 'Pinhead' from 'Hellraiser'. His French accent was thick, though his English was reasonable, but a little clipped with the odd word missing here and there. His breath smelled of onions and alcohol. She didn't like him.

"You are tough lady. Very tough. He would've killed a man with crowbar, but not you. He not kill you. You are tough lady. I enjoy breaking you, tough lady." He smiled and laughed. "The docteur, she say she see you soon, then we get to do anything we wish with you. A-N-Y-THING." He says happily.

"Weplay a little. We each draw lots. Then we …play some more…."he grinned grotesquely. Wonder Woman squirmed beneath his fingers, jerking her head away from his grasp with a pained "Ugggh!"

He laughed again. "We already play with you a bit , eh?" As he spoke she realised all was not as it should be about her person. Her tights were uncomfortably rolled at the top beneath her spangled briefs, her panties were firmly pulled up her ass and sitting uncomfortably inside her, slightly, at the front. As her senses took in the implications she realised she was also slightly tender in her groin and as she moved her hips as she squirmed at his touch she became aware of patches of dampness on her skin beneath her shorts, where something had splashed onto her and dried. To her horror, one such area ran down from her lips at the front , down the curve of her right ass cheek to the table. She had been intimately molested while unconscious.

"You…..YOU BASTARDS!!"she uncharacteristically shouts before she strains to break her left arm free of her bonds.

"MMMMMghhGGGHHHAAAAAAA!" she cries as the cord snaps easily and she uses her left hand to shove Romeré across the room. But as she goes to kick her legs free the other two thugs throw themselves across her, pinning her to the table as one shouts "IN HERE! QUICK!"

As she goes to free her right arm, there is much more give in the rope and it catches her by surprise when it doesn't pull taut but moves with her. It takes a few seconds longer to pull her arm back across herself to snap the slightly newer rope on that side of her. By that time Romeré has recovered and lands a vicious blow across her jaw, knocking her senseless for a few seconds before she recovers her wits.Romeré's heavy bulk lands on top of her pinning her arm across her chest and forcing her upper body back down onto the table once more. Able to concentrate now on the felons lying on her rather than what was happening in the room as a whole, she finally is able to bring all her strength to bare, feeling the surge of power from her belt coursing through the muscles of her body as she kicks upwards with her knees, throwing one of the other thugs loose as, at the same time, she throws Romeré off with her left hand as she alsopushes with her right. Only one man is still holding her legs now, but her ankles are still tied and his weight reduces her leverage. But she has lost valuable seconds in the struggle and she is vaguely aware in the background of other men entering the room as she is finally able to kick free with her left leg, snapping the rope.

But more of the crew are on her now, two grabbing her arms and upper body as the man she kicked off grabs her free leg. Two more arrive, restraining both her arms as another arrives and another. Men and hands are all over her now, grabbing her thighs, her calves, pinning her hips with their body weight. Four men are holding her arms, two on each, one holding a wrist and forearm, one a shoulder and elbow. Hands grab her everywhere as she twists and writhes desperately in their grip.

Limbs start interlocking with her own, restricting her movement still further. Still she struggles furiously, her flailing limbs moving the big men around like rag dolls but she cannot break free and shake them all off. A swarthy crewman grabs her brutally between the legs, squeezing her vagina viciously; the intimate attack shocking her momentarily as she screams and flinches, her body arching and then freezing in that position for a second as a further leacherous assault seizes both her breasts, one in each hand, sinking his claw like fingers painfully into her skin.

"N-NNOOO!" she screams at the violation but her inadvertent reaction to the assaults, the momentary freezing of her muscles, has allowed the men holding her to re-affirm their grip. Some eight men are holding her down now, yet her struggles are only ended when Romeré sticks a .45 pistol into her left breast.

"Time to stop now I think, yes ma'moiselle?"

She stiffens one last time, grunts and glares in frustration, then relaxes. Her body slumps back on the table as she is finally overpowered, her breasts heaving tight against her bodice with the exertion.

"Huhhhh!Hummmmpphhh!" she snorts through her tightly clenched lips as the hands grope , grab and pin her. She closes her eyes wincing at some of the more intimate touches as the sailors swarm over her, like ants overwhelming a scorpion.

"More rope! Hey English, where you go?" asked Romeré. She looked up.

"I….I went to get a gun…." Says the shanty singer, half raising it but seeing Romeré's .45 now lazily pointed in his direction, he subtly lowers the pistol, making it look as if raising it was only a gesture to show that he had indeed got one. But she saw differently in his eyes. So the Englishman had not taken part? And had possibly intended to free her by the way he started to brandish the gun and the pained look on his face. Maybe she had an ally on board after all. All of the men except Romeré went to work on tying her up, the Englishman,Tregenna stepping out of sight into the next room. Rough hands pulled her upright, forcing her knees ,legs and then ankles together as they started to get to work binding her. But they made a mistake. Of the seven or eight men holding her , three moved to tie her up, two at her legs , one at her upper arms. The five left holding her was never going to be enough, once Romeré had put his gun back in his belt. As they hauled her upright and bent her legs up to loop the cord behind her knees, she lashes out with both legs, the combined kick sending the two men pinning her ankles flying across the room, the two tying her legs are flung backwards several strides. She brought her arms together with force, dragging the two holding her wrists inwards towards each other, their heads meeting with a satisfying 'clunk'. At the same time she flings her head backwards, butting the man holding her shoulders with the back of her head. She swings herself off the table, her thighs and a well- aimed shove spinning the human obstacles out of her path. Finally on her feet she has a real chance of overpowering them now.

The two seamen she kicked are collapsed on the floor, a quick glance behind her reveals a similar state for the victim of the head butt, slumped holding his broken nose with bloodied fingers. The three she had barged out of the way on her side of the table are the immediate danger, Romeré and the last two men are on the far side. She kicks out at the nearest, her long legs giving a powerful smack to his chin as her right foot connects. She backhands the second across the jaw, clubbing the third downwards with laced fingers; he collapses unconscious at her feet. She senses the rise of broken-nose behind her, flicking up her fist over her shoulder to settle his account once and for all. Romeré is hanging back as he fumbles to get the gun from his waist as it snags on his belt, but his two companions are now around the table, advancing on her, stepping gingerly over their crewmates bodies. Grimly, Wonder Woman assumes a fighting stance, arms raised and feet planted apart. Feet, apart. Her feet! Something held her feet! It seems one of her assailants was not as down and out as she had thought. Instead of rising to continue the fight he has wrapped both his arms tightly around her ankles.

"T-TTHUUUH!"she gasps , surprised, before a more powerful movement breaks his hold on her, kicking him away. But the delay has allowed his two crewmates to close on her, one throwing a punch at her midriff which she manages to avoid, but by jerking her upper body out of the way she walks straight into the slightly later punch from his companion. Like most sailors his arms are powerful and his blow stings her jaw. She turns back to face the second man as the first lands a body blow, winding her slightly. '_No qualms about hitting a woman then, these low- lives'_she thinks to herselfas she recovers , blocking a blow from first one, then the other. She lands a blow of her own, doubling up the nearest man ; she grips him by the shoulders , throwing him over the table and into Romeré. One more to go and then for the big Frenchman. The last sailor on her side of the table tries a different tack, throwing himself at her throat as she casts aside his companion. His strong hands grip her slender neck tightly and for a second she is alarmed as he starts to squeeze, trying to throttle her. But an instant later her own hands are up, gripping his by the wrists, prizing them off her, she twists and pushes him back, then with his arms held rigid she suddenly splays her own arms wide, taking his arms with hers and propelling his face in, towards her own. She dips her head slightly and greets him with her forehead. He lets out a low moan, then drops like a sack of potatoes, heavily on to the floor. Now for Romeré.

Wide eyed he is standing with the table between them, moving to his right, levelling the Colt at her. Seven clip magazine, she'd need to be on her toes to defl-

A blinding flash fills her vision and a micro instant later she feels the pain hit her from the strong blow at the back of her head. She staggers, wincing, her head angled up , her gaze firmly on the ceiling. Her legs buckle andshe drops to her knees. Pitching forward, she supports herself on her hands, blinking furiously, partly at the shock, partly to try and clear her vision. She is poised on all fours head down, her long black hair reaching down to the floor as the second blow falls mercilessly down on her exposed neck. As she collapses face down on the floor, her hands splayed on either side of her head, a grimace and frown frozen on her beautiful features, her last conscious thought is that she heard Romeré say something to her unknown assailant. Something that sounded like "Good work, English". With a low groan she blacks out.

Tregenna stood over the unconscious Amazon. He looked up bitterly at Romeré, then lowered his gaze to the beautiful woman at his feet. "You'd 'ave killed 'er." He puts the gun he used as a club back in his belt.

"True. An' that would 'ave displeased the docteur, yes?" Romeré looked around as some of the other men start to stir. One or two do not.

"Sort 'em out."Romeréaddresses some of the walking wounded, nodding his head to those still out cold.

"What are we gonna do with her?" Tregenna asks.

"What aren't we gonna do with her, you mean English, eh?" Romeré laughs.

"I didn't sign up for no rape, nor murder. I'm just a diver. I done my bit. This - " he gestures at the woman helpless between them- "this ain't right."

"Yeah, well we at sea now English, an' you in this all of the way, up to neck. No …er….col' feet? Yes, no col'feet English. Don't want to 'ave to worry about you."

"You paid me to get the crates off of that tub, that's all. I ain'tkillin' anyone. That's all I'm sayin'."

"Ok , English. We see what 'appens, yes? You best rope man I ever see, you tie 'er up well. Then we see what Docteur Garston say. She say we no want 'er dead, yet, maybe never? We see." He shrugged.

Voices. She could hear voices. She didn't recognize the speaker. It wasn't Romeré,nor the Englishman. Again, she kept her eyes closed, not wishing to tip her hand. There was the sound of laughter. The words slowly became clearer.

"Hey, Lars! Lars I got another one for ya. You know why Scandinavian women are so beautiful? No? Well if you were a Viking a thousand years ago, you're not gonna row all the way across the North Sea from Norway to Scotland in an open boat and bring back the **UGLY**girls are ya?!!! Hahahahaha!"

More laughter, presumably this time from the one called Lars.At least two in the room then.

She listened. The low hum of the engines, still on the move. She was lying on her right side, knees together, arms behind her back, her forehead resting on the floor. Her mouth was dry from hanging open. She quickly swallowed, gaging slightly at the dryness. Licking her tongue over her scarlet red lips, she opened her left eye a fraction. Her knees were firmly lashed together, with three loops of rope visible around each leg above the knee.

With her legs bent she couldn't see the binds on her ankles, but she tried to move her feet forward slightly. She felt the rope coils beneath her right ankle, again three or four loops. She also felt the nylon rope pull taut at the back of her knees. She pushed her heels together to try and move her ankles apart but there was no give at all. She could see her arms were bound above the elbow, again with several loops of rope.

She tried to move her elbows apart but felt the cord pull tight between them. Her wrists were crossed and very tightly lashed together. She moved her upper body slightly and found that her arms, wrists, knees and ankles were all connected. Hogtied. By someone who knew what they were doing.

She realised too that there was a loop around her neck, connected to her arms via a cross rope that ran between them , between her shoulder blades. Two strands crossed her breast above and below her bosom, crossing at her cleavage. The neck is also tied to them, pulling her head forward.

But her twitching movements have attracted attention.

"Hey, she's awake! You go tell Romeré an' the Doc, I'll get her up on the table."

The one called Lars left, as the joke teller picked her up, an arm beneath her knees, an arm across her shoulder blades.

"You keep your chin down,babydoll. That Limey tied you up, tied you real good too. He's old school sailor, from Cornwall. Really knows his ropes. He says you straighten up that pretty little head of yours too much and it'll break your lovely neck!"

Meekly, she does as he suggests, keeping her headbowed as he lays her on the table. But his comments on the rope didn't seem right. There was tension as she straightened , yes, but no tightening or pressure of the rope at her neck. No force that would 'snap her neck', as he suggested. And as he had carried her she felt something else- a knot hidden beneath her long hair that seemed to join the loop at her neck to the strand running the length of her body. But it seemed almost superfluous. Her thoughts were interrupted as the door opened. Romeré and a guilty looking Tregenna walked in. Seeing she was awake he pushed passed Romeré quickly.

"Let me check the ropes - we don't want her to kill 'ersel', before the Doc has seen her . Stay still Wonder Tits if you know what's good for you. Move the wrong way an' you'll …" he ostentatiously drew his finger across his own throat, but she noticed him waggle it slightly at the centre, tapping his neck quickly. He was looking encouragingly at her while he did it, obviously trying to tell her something. He pulled her forward roughly. "Let's check those ropes…" she felt him part her hair, none of the gentleness he had shown her earlier evident. But he had an audience now. But his eyes told a different story. As he supposedly tested her bonds, she felt him tap the knot at the back of her neck and he winked reassuringly at her. "Now whatever you do" he said overemphasising the words, "don't pull that pretty little head of yours forwards and backwards suddenly. Do you understand me?"

Their eyes locked and she nodded imperceptibly, as did he with another wink. This close to him she took in his features for the first time properly. He had a round face and chins, plural; a slightly lopsided mouth that you only really noticed up close. He had grey, sad looking eyes and the desperate look of a man in way over his head. She felt disappointed by his ordinariness. He leaned in towards her and said loudly but with an almost apologetic look on his face "I'M GONNA FUCK YOU LAST, SO I'M THE LAST PERSON WHO HASYOU ON EARTH!" His expression told the lie to his words as his shipmates laughed.

He leant forward to kiss her and she played her part by pulling away. She could not pull very far of course and he licked her cheek instead but at the same time under his breath he muttered "Its all about your neck" his whispered words easily drowned out by the sailors laughter.

She was fairly disappointed that his looks didn't match his touch- whereas his sensuous fingers had undeniably aroused her, visually he was 'mmeh', so her resistance to his mock advances was not wholly acting. He picked her up and carried her below decks, down into a small hold, setting her down carefully upon some crates. As he set her down he squeezed her ass; she was unsure, was it supposed to be a gesture of lewdness, or reassurance?

"The Doc is still busy." reported a crewman.

"Ah" Romeré spread his hands wide, "then we play." He smiled at the trussed up heroine, "Jeux sans frontiere, hmmm? 'Games without boundaries' " his smile grew ever wider as he casually walked over to the captive and equally casually groped her breast. She recoiled and squirmed as much as she was able.

Tregenna looked uncomfortable. He turned to the crewman.

"Ray, go see everything is o.k. on deck"

"What the fuck? Why?"'

"Cos I said so." Ray sighed melodramatically but left anyway. Romeré turned to Tregenna.

"With 'er tied it will be difficult to enjoy 'er body" He gazed at the Amazon with obvious lust.

"Don' you worry, ma Cherie. I am French. We know all about love".

"You disgust me…." She said through clenched teeth.

"An' you, my dear," he stroked her cheek as she lay helpless " you excite me."

With only two of them in the room and one of them an ally , the Amazon decided that it was indeed now or never. She dropped her chin to her chest then flung her head backwards, feeling the knot beneath her hair give but not totally. Romeré, not noticing the implications grabbed her chin as he turned to Tregenna.

"Can we loosen the ropes, they will spoil my pleasure".

Tregenna looked meaningfully at Wonder Woman "Sure, let me." He walked over to her , nodding imperceptibly to her. She understood and repeated the head movement, this time feeling the knot slip. Tregenna had his hands between her thighs. He looked at her as she nodded back, a miniscule gesture; Romeré had his pistol casually covering them both.

"You jus' loosen a little then cover 'er with pistol, yes?"

Tregenna prised her thighs apart slightly feeling the ropes give as Wonder Woman used her strength to part her legs a little. At the same time she flexed her arms, noticing the bonds give, all apart from her wrists. She started to strain, moving her crossed wrists apart, feeling them pull taut and loosen.

Tregenna stepped back, reaching for the pistol in Romeré's hand. Just as he was about to hand it over the big Frenchman saw her shoulder movements, her elbows moving wider.

"Hey!! Hey English!" he kept the gun pointing at the Amazon.

Tregenna decided to make a move "No yadon't Frenchie!!!" he cried grabbing for the gun. As the two tussled, Wonder Woman flexed her arms fully, feeling the bonds give way. She quickly pulls the loosened ropes from her legs, kicking her feet free of the last bonds. Romeré lands a telling blow to Tregenna's gut and the Englishman doubled up. But the Frenchman is still confused by events, taking a step back he first points the gun at Wonder Woman, then his former crewmate. Tregenna , still bent double, does the only thing he can, launching his head into the big man's stomach. Winded,Romeré himself folds in two, but pushes the smaller man away, levelling the gun. A small fist, baring much more force than it should, flashes across his jaw. Romeré's head whips around with an 'OOOOFFFF!!!!' before it snaps back into position to face front. He blinks twice then collapses.

Wonder Woman helps Tregenna stand, with genuine concern.

"Are you O.k?" she asks as he nods, breathless."Thanks for helping me out. Why on earth are you involved in all of this? Where is the doctor? What has she done with the bomb?"

"Bomb? What bomb? I dunnonuthin' 'bout no bomb missy. I'm a diver. Jimmy Tregenna , at your service. Formerly master diver in her Britannic Majesty's navy (14 years), then 12 years on the North Sea rigs. Until that bastard framed me for drug use and an' got me kicked out" he said, bitterly. "No job for over a year. No one wants a drugged up diver. Used all me savin's, then I'm on the bones o' me arse, when he offers me this job. Ten grand for 3 weeks work, most of it on board , just three days divin'. Just getting' some stuff off of some old French tub. An' that's what I did. Just crates of some rare mineral. Doc says she needs it for some machine that's gonna replicate food, like on that Star Trek. Gonna feed Africa wi' it, she reckons. The yank government withdrew 'er funding, so she has to go to these extreme lengths like, to prove it works. So I says to me sel', I says Jimmy me boy, why the hell not? You get ten grand, she 'elps feed the world. Ok we got no dive permit so it's a little bit illegal but what the 'ell, eh?"

She is frowning as she tries to understand his accent. "Sorry love, I'm a Cornishman, that's just the way I talk," he says making more of an effort to pronounce each letter for her. "She didn't say nuthin' about a bomb…"

"The doctor, where is she? Has she a lab or personal quarters aboard?"

"She keeps hold no.2 to herself. You say a bomb, what is she gonna blow up? Is that what that mineral stuff was for?"

"Yes, its depleted Uranium."

"WHAT?!!!JEEEEZUS!!!! But it weren't marked radioactive nor anythin'!!"

"It was part of the French nuclear programme."

"Those tricky Frog bastards! BASTARDS!!! It was in crates marked 'sample geologique', no radiation symbol!"Tregenna takes out his frustration by kicking the prone Frenchman at his feet. "Will I die? Have we had too many rads or whatever they are called?"

"I don't know, but if we don't stop her, we are all going to die, together with thousands of innocent people." She looks at him seriously.

"Shit. She's down in the hold; through that door, down the gangway, second door on the left. I'll go and take the bridge, turn us about." He hefted the gun and turned away from her.

"NO!" She called after him, "Head out to sea. Fast as you can. Get as far away from the coast as you can. Where was she heading, do you know?"

"Up the coast she said, to a little natural harbour north of Point Delagro, between Whitethorn and Eureka."

"GODDESS! That's where the San Andreas fault line meets the coast!"

"Fuck. She's pretty fucked up then , eh? What is she so annoyed at?"

"Me."

"Oh. Right-oh." He heads the opposite way from her, then stops. "Best tie him up". He kicks Romeré "Gonna enjoy this. I ain'tno bloody Englishman, Frenchie. I'm Cornish" he shouts at the unhearing man."He be a vicious sod with a knife this one. Saw 'im cripple a guy in 'Frisco just for fun. Toyed with him, cut his tendons, then hamstrung the poor bugger. Glad he never got the knife out wi' me. I'm bloody useless in a knife fight." He said honestly."Oh, and love?"

She turns back in the doorway "Be careful, eh?"

"You too. If you can, get a message to Steve Trevor at the IADC , via the coastguard, tell them where we are and what's happening. How many crew are on board?" She asks.

"Er…18 I think. Me an' 'im leaves 16. Three on the bridge, two cooks.Galley obviously. Dave and Richardson in the Engine room; couple on watch fore 'n' aft. Probably a couple in their cabins at this time o' night. The Doc may have , what four or five with her? "Don't really know or trust any of 'em to be honest."

"Do what you can. Good luck." She starts through the doorway.

"One thing. Why don't you 'ave a decent costume with like body armour an' stuff? You're running around in your underwear basically. I mean , it's hot an' all, but well…not very practical, is it?"

"I…I have a cape on occasion, though that's mostly publicity shots….You know what? I REALLY don't have time for this". Stupid asshole she thought to herself as she went through the doorway. But still, she hoped he would succeed.

Behind her Jimmy Tregenna set to work tying up Romeré, and as ever when he waspleased with something he'd done, he started to sing softly to himself

"Bless you, bless you,

All you pretty girls…."

Wonder Woman listened at the door. Being a ships hold, the only way to open the hatch was by throwing the locking levers open and spinning the wheel handle, removing all surprise. Luckily though, it was slightly ajar. She could hear two men talking, one voice she recognised as that of Lars. Nothing for it, she had to go in. She tried to push the door open silently, but it creaked loudly on rusty hinges, all hopes of surprise gone. She flung it wide , springing into the room. The two men stopped talking abruptly, then looked at each other. Lars was tall and classically Scandinavian, his companion was squatter, his face heavily scarred.

"Do we get her ?" Lars asked with a heavy Norwegian accent .

"Err… I guess" his younger companion answered.

"Ok , you go get" said Lars.

"Me? I'm not going anywhere near that bitch. Did you see what she did upstairs? Tied up against 8 guys? She kicked ass. I aintgoin' near her, no- fucking- way."

"No need gents. She's gonna quit without a fight." A third man half in and half out of the doorway some 20 feet away into the next room stands, pointing a gun at her. Wonder Woman raises her bracelets high, ready to deflect the bullets.

The new arrival, casual and confident walked towards her smiling. "Nice outfit. You looking for tricks?"

"No, I'm looking for assholes and I've just found three".

"Hmmm, well I'll see your three and raise you one dumb blonde! BRING HER IN!" he smiles as he keeps the gun on her. As she starts towards him he fires anyway, just two shots well spaced apart that she easily counters with her bracelets. The bullets ricochet around the hold, bouncing off the metal walls and forcing Lars and his companion to duck. The gunman doesn't duck, but smiles then looks down at a slowly spreading red stain on his chest and then looks up again, still smiling. "That….was soooo fucking lucky" he says as he pitches forward onto his face. Behind him, two men are carrying something between them as they step through the door. In the dim light of the hold it takes Wonder Woman a second torecognise the shape. They are holding a young girl between them, gripping her small form by the elbows and upper arms, her feet dragging behind her, her toes scraping on the deck plating. Her knees are bent, nearly touching the floor. Her head hangs down limply, partially obscured by her costume. Her cape is bunched, hanging down her left side andher body suit shimmers slightly in the half light as they drag her nearer . A third man enters behind them, agun pointed at the young girl's back. The pointed toes of her purple boots make the only sound as theyscrape on the deck as the men drag her nearer, the image becoming clearer to Wonder Woman with every passing second. She can make out the yellow utility belt and the purple gauntlets. Half glimpsed under her bobbing head is a yellow bat symbol emblazoned on her chest.

"Batgirl!!!? " Wonder Woman gasps taking a step nearer "BATGIRL!!!"

"Uh-uh!" says the second gunman, pointing his weapon higher at the back of the helpless guardian of Gotham.

"Is Tommy dead?" he asks, peaking around the girl with concern, looking at the man on the floor.

Lars rolls the body over, "No, Bullet almost spent when it hit him. Is not deep and ok, not great but not bad either."

"Good." The second gunman motions the two porters to stop with their load, then stands, his gun to Batgirl's temple. He asks of Lars "Where's Romeré and the Brit?"

Lars shrugged. "Upstairs. Micky, go find." He addresses the younger man whom leaves.

"Give it up, Wonder Woman. Or your little crimefighting pal here loses her Batbrains."

Seething with rage at her own impotence, Wonder Woman bites her lip. There is much more at stake than Batgirl's life, but at the same time she is reluctant to see the youthful upholder of the law murdered before her eyes. She slowly lowers her arms in defeat, and at the same time she shuffles dejectedly, head down, towards the quartet in the centre of the room, her wrists held together in supplication, fists clenched waiting to be tied or cuffed. Lars grabs her roughly from behind by her upper arms, as she squirms and twists at the surprise grip, her eyes blazing her defiance as reluctantly her body surrenders to his will. But now she is within striking distance of the gunman. She can see him visibly relax as he starts to move the gun casually towards her, no longer covering Batgirl. She suddenly elbows an unsuspecting Lars in the belly and, his grip broken, she leaps forward, pushing the gunman's hands high, a single shot harmlessly ricocheting off the deck plate in the ceiling. Still gripping his hands she prises the gun free, swinging him around to her right, before releasing him, slamming him into the walls of the hold some ten feet away. Lars starts to straighten but she grabs him by the collar, hurling him head first into the midriff of the man to Batgirl's left. The furore has seemingly revived Batgirl, as she starts to stand of her own will, the remaining goon releasing her and lunging at the Amazon. She ducks his blow and springs upwards landing a vicious uppercut that leaves the man out cold.

"Ughh…Ughhaaaa…" Batgirl moans as she stumbles and slumps forward. Wonder Woman catches her beneath each arm, raising the young girl up as her head lolls back. Her eyes , half closed as her upturned face registers the Amazon's presence and she starts a smile, weak at first but becoming ever stronger.

"Batgirl! BATGIRL!!! Are you o.k.?" Wonder Woman cries with concern.

"I…I'm…fine you MURDEROUS BITCH!" Batgirl opens her eyes fully to reveal they are blazing with a cold hatred. She smiles cruelly as she straightens, taking her own weight, her left arm comes up clutching a small rubber ball. She squeezes it twice, ejecting a cloud of dust straight into the shocked Amazons face and her open mouth.

Wonder Woman reels away, blinking and coughing furiously, she brings her hands up to her face, the back of her left hand across her mouth, her right raised in mid air, in a faint attempt to ward off further attacks. But the damage has been done.

She coughs and shudders, realizing too late that the Batgirl she had previously met had red hair beneath her cowl, not blonde, and the face that gazed malevolently into her own was not that of a young girl but an older woman. Her eyelids start to feel heavy as the room starts to blur and spin. " A…a trick…" she gasps before her legs fail her and she succumbs to the drug. The laughter of Dr Garston echoing in her ears.

As her legs collapse and she falls to the floor, she lands on her side, her head resting on her upper left arm, which, extended straight, is the only part of her body not in the foetal position. The bogus Batgirl squats down on her haunches, her forearms on her knees, her hands hanging down casually, her head over the fallen Amazon. Wonder Woman is still conscious, but fading fast, her bleary eyes can see intermittently that the woman crouched over her is no young girl but a woman in her late twenties-early thirties. With the Batmask on and through her drugged state she cannot recognise her from the files. But it can only be Catherine Garston. She is smiling contentedly as her laughter fades.

"Well , well , well. That was easy. You like my outfit? All it took to bring down the mighty Wonder Woman was a $50 store bought fancy dress costume. You weren't supposed to escape. I was gonna 'rescue' you, then see if you return the favour.' Cos that's what you hero types do, right, rescue people ? Save them. Only you don't do ya, bitch?Hmmmn? You are so worried about savin' your own pretty li'l ass that you leave them to die, just like you did my father, YOU USELESS FUCKING BITCH!" through tears she spits contemptuously in the Amazon's face. She accompanies the gesture with a vicious low blow to the helpless crimefighter's crotch.

"OOOOFFFF!....I….I…tried…..you….huh….he….he…wouldn't-" her eyes, unfocussed, blurring.

"Oh, so now it's my dad's fault?" She pinches Wonder Woman's cheeks between her thumb and forefinger, tears stinging her eyes. "Huhhh? ANSWER ME!!!!"

"Huhhh….n-no…"Wonder Woman gasps weakly as Garston flings her head viciously away from her as she stands slowly. Though older than Batgirl, she still fills the suit out well. The crewmen around her smile at the view, as she straightens up, smoothing the cheap purple bodysuit over her hips, standing, hands akimbo, unwittingly striking a heroic pose. But her intentions are far from heroic.

"Do what you want with her, just make sure it hurts. I'm gonna change, this goddamn suit is really tight, I'm sweating like a trainee whore with her first trick." She looks down at her fallen enemy. "Take her into the for'ard hold." She squats over her victim one last time. As Wonder Woman finally passes out, the last words she hears chill her to the bone. "Ya know what's really funny, bitch? We really have captured Batgirl. Oh don't worry. You'll be joining her soon enough" her laughter fades in the Amazon's ears as she is engulfed by darkness and silence embraces her.

She was being touched. Everywhere.All at once. Many hands were running roughly over her spread eagled body. She grimaced at the thought of the violations to come. But she was ready for them. It was not the first time that she had been violated by the very criminals that she was sworn to fight against. She only prayed that this would be the last, as long as she could escape. She would endure. She would survive. The history of her race was full of such horrors inflicted upon her sisters by the world of men.

Even Queen Hippolyta had been violated by Hercules. This history of violence had driven many in her clan to a hatred and mistrust of men and whilst she understood it, she did not agree. Not all men were crude animals like these. There were decent men like Steve Trevor or even the Englishman who helped her. Where was Tregenna? Had a message been sent? Was he captured? Alive?Dead? She came to with these questions swimming through her consciousness.

"She's coming around. Fuck her brains out, then give me a call." That was Garston. "But keep her alive".The sound of heels on deck plate as she retreated.

"What of English? I want that bastard…." Romeré's voice.

"If you can break in to the engine room, you can have him. Crazy bastard smashed up the bridge once we cornered him, fucked up the steering gear, then fought his way down to the engine room. He shot Andrews and Fat Ray. Not seriously though. Ray in the leg and Andrews in the arm. We think he's only got 4 bullets left. Go get him, tiger." A crewman's voice she didn't recognise.

Romeré fumed quietly. "Oh I will. But first, first zis one".

Wonder Woman was still coming to as she felt him grip her magic belt and rip it from her.

"NO!" she cried with a start that made him jump. But her protests were already too late. She could feel the strength from her belts' power leave her like the last dregs of water draining from a sink as the plug is pulled.

She was tied to another table, her ass resting at one end, her ankles and legs lashed to the table legs, her thighs spread wide. She squirmed, testing her bonds, desperately trying to find a weakness.

Romeré smiled down at her. Waving her belt he said "Zis, Zis would be in the way" he smiled , obviously not realising the belts significance as he tossed it away. They had already removed her feminum bracelets after seeing them in action.

So, Tregenna was alive at least, and had control of the engine room. Had he sent the message? There was hope at least. She realised, to her horror that crewman really were forming a line up to the table. Romeré saw her eyes widen and smiled malevolently.

"Oh yes, femme fantastique. We really did draw lots for your pleasure. I am …." He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket."Third. Oh well. Is fair. The first two weaken you for me to break you ,yes?" He laughed, a mirthless sound.

Romeré stepped between her legs, gripping her hips and sliding her body down until her womanhood was right at the edge of the table. She squirmed frantically at his touch, her hands moving frenziedly, trying to pull free of the bonds at her wrists. Again, they were lashed to the table legs. He was a tall enough man to be able to lean over her, his face easily coming up to her own.

"Relax,"he said as she writhed helplessly beneath him, "we French know all about love, hmmn?" she squealed and resisted him, the only way she could, by an undignified but heartfelt act of spitting in his face. He smiled and where able, licked it off. As he leaned in to kiss her his right hand holding her throat and therefore her head, she lunged up biting his cheek. She was an Amazon warrior and she would not give herself easily to the subjugation.

"Aaaaagggghhhh!"Romeré reeled back, then viciously backhanded her. Panting heavily in anger he removed his neckerchief. As she lay stunned by the blow, gasping beneath him, he forced the cloth into her open mouth, cleave gagging her with it. She reeled at the taste and smell; stale sweat; grease; oil; an undefined fishy smell that she prayed was from a sandwich; onions and general grime and dirt. She gagged at the appalling flavour.

"Mmmph!MmmmMMMMMPH!" She strained at the ropes , raising her head with the effort, her whole body rigid with strain. "Hhhuhmmmph, HUMPPPPHHH!" she can make no other sound as she collapses exhausted back onto the table. The laughter of the sailors is ringing in her ears as they mock her plight. Her situation was hopeless but she tried again before the monsters were physically on top of her. Her face contorted with the effort, eyes screwed up tight, jaw locked, teeth biting down as much as they were able on the awful cloth in her mouth. One last, desperate, bid for her freedom. Even as she tried it she knew it was a hopeless attempt- without her magic belt, only her human strength to rely on and with her assailants gathered about her.

Even if she were to break her bonds the sailors would be upon her long before she had any hope of rising from the table. Her current efforts would only free her hands; her feet, tied at the ankles and partly her calves would still be held fast. Her body, even without her belt was strong and athletic, her years of training on Paradise Island giving her toned and powerful muscles, certainly stronger than any normal woman of her build but no-where near strong enough for the task in hand. Her fighting skills were still formidable, but against the 8 or more well- built men, even if she could rise from the table she would stand no chance of victory. But still, with no alternative, she had to try.

"GGGgggnnnnnnNNNNNNAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" she snarled through the cloth , again raising her head only for her to fall back exhausted , her breasts heaving with the desperate effort, trying to suck in air through the odious rag blocking her mouth. The first sailor in line steps up and pins her shoulders back. He is a rather ugly Virginian named Morris. He had evidently drawn lot number 1.

"Well, get out fellas, give aguy and his lady friend a bit of privacy, huh?"

"Fuck you, Morris. Just get on with it, we ain't got all day." Someone in line shouted.

Morris made a token stab at necking with the Amazon. Her eyes close on the indignity as the man's sloppy, saliva- soaked lips slobbered over her throat. He continued for a few moments trying first one side then the other before he straightened. "I can't do it with a goddamned audience!" he declared as the other crewmen laughed and jeered. He tried again, clawing bear-like at her breasts. She grimaced, wincing in pain as he first sucked at her exposed cleavage and then bit her breasts. But Wonder Woman did not cry out, even though his teeth were clamped on the curve of her bosom for a painfully long time. Where his groin rubbed against her inner thigh she could feel only a partial erection, which was going more flaccid with each passing second. "I can't do this with you watching!"

The second in line pushed him out of the way.

"You fuckin' soft or somethin'? Outta the way ! Let a real man handle this!"

Morris pushed back. "Hey, fuck you Talbot".

The pushing escalated, with Talbot throwing a punch which Morris deftly evaded before landing one of his own. The two grappled with each other as their crewmates cheered, falling to the floor. Before things could go any further,Romeré stepped in, a big hand on each shoulder, and prized them apart.

"Enough. ME NEXT." No argument from those behind him in the queue. Morris and Talbot looked at each other. Neither protested very vociferously, instead slinking away into the shadows , each blaming the other and scuffling to prove it still.

Romeré looked at the remaining crew. "I don' mind you Americains getting a love lesson from a Frenchman," he laughed," but who is trying to get English?"

"Stan, Lee, George an' Perez" someone answered. "They drew high" someone else added.

Romeré looked at the 6 men still lined up. "You last three, gonna be a while before your turn, go see if they need 'elp. We'll save some of 'er for you, my friends. She's not going anywhere, are you , ma Cherie?"she squirmed under his touch as she felt his hand stroke the side of her face, wincing in revulsion. Her reaction caused him to smile with delight as he loosened his belt and unzipped his fly.

This was the moment she had dreaded, but she was no stranger to the sins of man. She still had hope, of Tregenna, of Steve.

She had to believe that a message had been sent, that Steve was on his way. That Steve would get her out of this. That Steve would get her through this. She would think of Steve Trevor now, not this vile thing pawing her. Romeré's touch was rough, crude, desperate rather than passionate. She vowed she would not respond to this brute. Where Romeré's touch sickened her she would get through this by imagining it was Steve taking her.She would imagine a gentler, softer, passionate touch. She would ignore the pain. The disgrace.The loss of her honour. She would bare the humiliation and she would emerge stronger. As Romeré set about his task, she stared off into the distance, mentally translating actions she reviled for those that she longed for.

She felt Steve's gentle fingers smoothing down her stretched arms, softly stroking the underside, her sensitive skin, her flesh rejoicing at his touch as he kisses her tenderly below her ear and down her neck. As Romeré slobbered over her. Her blood pumping faster, her heart racing with delight at the excitement to come. Her breathing more rapid, her bosom heaving with each breath, her stomach flattened, her spectacular breasts barely concealed by her straining bodice. Her bosom was overflowing the tops of the golden eagle's wings that tried in vain to imprison her breasts. Steve's hands , so strong and soft skinned, stroking down her neck, three middle fingers running parallel down over her throat, his thumb and little finger making no contact, running down onto her chest, her breathing becoming impossibly fast as if at any moment the bustier top would burst. Steve, delighting in her pleasure, smiling down at her , his gentle, warm smile; kissing her again, full on the lips this time, no foul gag in her fantasy, no equally foul pig of a man pawing her either. And Steve knows exactly what she wants and he is finally going to give it to her, after all these endless years of waiting. His tender kisses rain down on her, some slow and sweet, some fast and passionate, some urgent and desperate with desire, a desire they both share but have repressed for so long. Seizing the moment, sensing her passion building, Steve grips her bodice at the eagle's head, looking down at her, deep into her eyes, which are desperately pleading for him to release her from the moral prison of the garment she wears.Romeré seizes it, but to her Steve grips it. His fingers curling around the top of it , over the proud bird of prey. A forceful tug and the bird is flown , discarded over his shoulder casually, revealing her equally proud breasts, heaving up and down with her breathing as it grows ever faster, anticipating the thrills to come. Her nipples are hard and erect, the tiny gooseflesh bumps at her aureoli are full of blood pumping urgently from her mighty heart, fit to burst with excitement at the thrill of a dream come true after some many, many decades of wanting.

In her mind's eye, as the bodice is ripped from her she utters a plaintive, beseeching "HHHuuu-HUH!" as her breasts are exposed , magnificent in their freedom, heaving, rising and falling with the passionate , breathless beating of her heart. Her diaphragm flattened, exposed to his wonderful touch, his kisses so warm, his tongue just right, no filthy rag there now, as his perfect, magical touch wends its way down; those three wonderful fingers- Romeré brutally yanks down her spangled shorts, temporarily interrupting her fantasy as she feels his brutish body press against her, but her fantasy is her weapon in defeating this assault and she refuses to be disarmed so easily. With a force of will she ignores her brutalisation, as she returns to Steve once more, as Romeré violently enters her. A slight gasp and a momentary wince are her only reaction as Steve again has her, his fingers working their feather-light touch over her yielding body, his left hand above her head now, pinning her arms there on the soft down mattress, the softest in the world, that has replaced the harsh table top of the hold, and at the same time he supports his body weight with it, as his right hand continues that wonderful caressing journey over her silken skin. His hand is cupping, kneading, squeezing her left breast, her eyes closed in ecstasy at the touch. His palm warm and soft, his fingers strong but tender- a grimace and a grunt from her as Romeré enters her again, much harder this time, but he cannot kill this dream; his brutal, crude pounding into her helpless body is ignored. Steve is with her. Steve will protect her, mentally if not physically. Steve's hand is now moving lightly around the curve of her left breast, stroking the swelling mound, inverting to work on her right one, his tracing fingers work circles as his eager lips descend to suck on the teat so hard and so inviting, just for him. His face buried between the delightful canyon of her bosom as he raises blowing soft, warm air down over her nipples, down across her flattened stomach, his fingers now tracing the curving arch formed by the bottom of her rib cage as it rises in anticipation, his fingertips stroking around and up and over , from side to side. Her breath drawing in, and in, and in still further, held for an impossible time, awaiting release as the touch of his warm breath finally drops to blow over her belly into the exquisite dip of her navel. His hands come down now too, his thumbs at her inner thigh, parting them slightly, opening her legs gently wider, baring her womanhood for his inspection, he smiles that lovely warm smile of his. His caresses and kisses continue causing ripples of excitement over her abdomen, her breathing quickening once more. As his lips work their magic over her groin his right hand starts to play with her, gently pressing the node of her hood, wiggling it delightfully before his middle finger-Romeré pounding still- his middle finger traces the rim of her lips, the darker grey-brown flesh immensely sensitive, responding to his touch by releasing her juices in a thin, wet, warm trickle of anticipation. And finally his hands gripping her hips, with her still flat, powerless to move, not from the real bonds that had her tied to a table ina darkened ship's hold, but because this, with this man Steve before her, was what she had wanted for decades and now she ached for it. Steve smiles, pulling her hips and her most intimate, sensitive area towards him. She can feel his erection hard against her yearning flaps. This at last, will be a dream literally fulfilled - a warm, unwelcome wetness enters her as Romeré, gasping, rolls off of her , spent and fatigued.

"Take her to the Docteur," he panted, exhausted. "NOW!" as he zips up his fly. He stares at her long and hard as she snaps back to reality. Disappointing reality. She looks over her body, still lyng flat, still gagged; she looks over her violated form and then up, straight into the eyes of the Frenchman. There is no look of pain, or horror, or shock, or any trace of emotion on her face. Her eyes are cold , not even judging him really. To him, she just looks…disappointed. He swallowed hard. The whole experience was flat, soulless and joyless for him. He had expected her to scream and writhe and recoil at his touch, but apart from the odd wince or gruntas he drove deep inside her she had seemed…absent almost. He couldn't explain it but that was the best word…absent, almost totally absent from what he was inflicting upon her. Almost no reaction to anything that he did. Even when he had bit her nippleshe seemed not to feel it. And now, under her gaze, that cold soulless stare of disappointment, he felt utterly ashamed of himself. He staggered away, acting more like the one who had been defiled than the perpetrator.

He leaned heavily on his palm in the doorway, dipping his head, his ear to his upper arm against the bulkhead. He felt disgusted with himself. What had she done to him? The witch.

"Get her out of here.NOW!" he bellowed, not looking at her still. There were no protests from those waiting . One man covered her with the gun as two others untied her. As her arms were released she quickly yanked the gag down. Fat Ray, on the gun, levelled it nervously at her.

"May I dress? She said simply. Romeré, still looking away ,nodded. The crew, enjoying the view of her nakedness stepped back, two guns on her, expecting her to retireve her ripped and torn garments. They had enjoyed cheering Romeré at first but then something seemed to happen. The woman made almost no noise and there was very little reaction. Just the sight of Romeré pounding away at her. It had stopped being funny. It certainly wasn't erotic. They too had all felt embarrassed by the end of it. Some had drifted away to other parts of the ship long before the climax. Or rather anti-climax. At least now, as she dressed they could appreciate her form without the big Frenchman in the way.

She pulled up her tights and spangled briefs, which had been caught on the bonds at her knees, adjusting to the fact that her black lace and silk panties were not inside them. Then , nonchalantly she went over to her discarded belt, and made sure to pick it up as if it were just another part of her garments together with her bustier. Just holding it again, she felt the strength it imbued her with coursing through her body. She found her black panties - they had been ripped from her and were quite useless. She didn't imagine they would have turned their backs to allow her to put them on anyway. Her blue shorts would be enough to cover her dignity. She dressed in silence. She refastened her bustier top, never letting go of the belt. Romeré stormed out, shouting over his shoulder "Take her through after she is finished."

There were a few jeers and comments as she dressed. Any crude remark she would just stop and stare in complete silence at the perpetrator. The silence was an unnerving experience for the thugs and they didn't like it. Most broke eye contact, swearing at her to get on with it. She reattached her belt with relief. Thank the Goddess they didn't know it was the secret of her strength. She still was without her bracelets however, but her priority now was the doctor and the bomb. Knowing they were taking her to see the doctor, she decided to play along and go meekly. Covering her with the gun, she allowed them to bind her hands, inner wrists together. Again, just nylon rope. She could break it with little difficulty, now that she had her belt.

She remembered the doctors' words as she was passing out - somewhere on board they had Batgirl too, if she was still alive. That was a new and unexpected worry. Though concerned, she knew that finding the bomb was everything. Batgirl, if roles were reversed, would think the same and understand. As she stepped through the hatch into hold number 2 she noticed that her bracelets were on a table just a few feet away. She must be patient. She could not hope to break the bonds at her wrists and secure the bracelets before someone fired at her. As she walked, she subtly flexed her wrists, stretching and straining the bonds.

The hold had a large cylindrical chamber at the far end, off to her right, that she realised was a decompression tank. Not surprising given it was a salvage vessel. The door was open, the handle and square viewing window facing her, but she could not see into the tank itself. There was a table at the centre of the room with a lamp and some papers on it, which looked completely out of place. Some diving tanks and a miscellany of salvage equipment was scattered around the interior, against the walls. A large tank of compressed air some 4 feet high is leaning against the corner of one wall.

Standing over the desk is Garston, now in tight jeans and a powder blue t-shirt with the slogan 'Yes they're real, and they're spectacular' across her impressive breast. She looks up as they enter with the captive Amazon.

"Enjoy your French lesson ?" Garston asks mockingly. Wonder Woman's nostrils flare with innate anger, but she says nothing, just sullenly stares back.

Garston strolls casually over to her, staring intently at the Amazon. "I'm gonna see you beg for your life, just like my father did before you left him to die."

"It wasn't like that! You have to listen to me, you have to stop this madness ! You-" Garston lands a vicious backhand to the Amazon's cheek. Wonder Woman took the blow, clenching her teeth.

"You're crazy! You'll kill millions for what? Revenge against me? If you want to kill me then do it but don't trigger that bomb. Please, your father died saving my life-"

The crewmen watching her started to look uneasy. A bomb?Millions dead? They exchanged nervous looks.

"Shut UP!!!" Garston screamed. "You're lying!I don't wanna hear this from you, I-"

A loud buzz rings through the hold, causing all to look up as the ship's Tannoy system crackles into life.

"Uh…erm…can you hear this? This is Richardson from the engine room, I'm on the bridge. That mad fucking English guy has got a gun on Skinny Dave back there. He's said he'll waste him unless I patch him through the speakers from the bridge, so here it is. Go ahead you nut job, you're on."

"This is Tregenna, listen up everyone. This is some fuckin' fucked up shit goin' down 'ere. That stuff we raised, she needed it for a bloody bomb, Dr. Garston I mean. A bloody nuclear bomb at that. That weird gal in the blue knickers is tryin' to stop her. She's got no intention of paying us the rest of the money she owes us. She was gonna blow it at the San Andreas fault, take 'arf of the west coast with her . An' us with it ship mates. We been 'ad by that tricky bitch. She's gonna kill us all. The bomb's gotta be on board somewheres, that gal in her underwear is gonna try an ' stop it.

You gotta release 'er fellas, it's our only hope. I know it sounds bonkers, sorry I mean mad like. But its true, don't kill the doc though, we need 'er to tell us where the bomb is. Think about it. That whole crock o'shite she told us about using the ore to build some bloody food machine. If that were true why the hell did she hire us, instead of a proper crew for this tub, eh?"

Richardson on the bridge cut in as a loud whoosh drowned out the transmission " We just been buzzed by a coupla jets , I got two coastguard cutters chasin' us and what may or may not be a navy frigate heading us off. Looks like choppers coming in too. We can't avoid them, he's jammed the helm …"

Tregenna continued "You see, lads? I set her on course for open sea but it won't mean much if that bomb goes up. We-" a gunshot blasts through the speakers echoing around the hold. "WHAT THE FUCK?!!!! DAVE, YOU ARSEHOLE!" Tregenna bellowed."I coulda killed ya! Ain't you been listenin', there's a bomb on board, gonna blow us all to kingdom come an' you're pissin' about tryin' to grab me gun! Fuckin' 'ell, man! Listen, I'm serious goddammit! She's gonna kill more people than Clinton has shagged!"

The two crewmen holding Wonder Woman look at each other, then Garston. Unsettled she starts to fumble in a desk draw for a gun of her own. "It's lies, he's mad!" she cried desperately.

"It's the truth." Wonder Woman grimaces as she flexes her arms, parting the rope at her wrists easily. Her guards do nothing to stop her.

"Fuck this, I'm gone" one says to the other as they both turn for the door.

Wonder Woman starts to step towards her bracelets as Garston raises her pistol. "You fucking bitch , you've ruined it all. Lousy scum of a crew. I don't need them to take you down."She opens fire as Wonder Woman dives for the table and rolls over the top,grabbing her bracelets, she comes up holding them rather than wearing them. Garston's first shot is well wide, the next two bullets are nearer but still no direct threat, the fourth Wonder Woman deflects with ease, using her bracelet.

Garston backs up, moving alongside the open door of the decompression chamber. "You forget Wonder Woman , I got insurance". She steps just behind the open door and drags the slumped form of Batgirl from the chamber. Through the glass of the viewing window Wonder Woman can see Garston's arm holding the young Gothamite by the throat as the rest of the doctor is visible, standing clear of the door. The youthful crimefighter's eyes are closed and her head is slumped forward; she appears to be unconscious. Garston cruelly shakes the young woman by the throat , Batgirl's un-responding face visible through the square window in the door.

With the gun pointing at Batgirl, Wonder Woman seizes the moment to put on her bracelets and starts to close the gap.

"Give it up Garston. This is insane. Let her go. This is just between us."

"You want her? Come get her" the doctor pushes the Guardian of Gotham back out of sight, into the chamber and then mercilessly fires her last three bullets into her, at point blank range.

"NOOOO!" cries Wonder Woman desperately as she dashes over to the chamber. Garston staggers back laughing hysterically, doubled up, as Wonder Woman swings around the door and pushes the doctor out of the way. She stands aghast as he looks at the crumpled, lifeless ,purple form lying at the back of the chamber. Suddenly two hands thrust into her back between her shoulder blades, tipping her forward . Off balance, her feet hit the lip of the raised rim of the tank and she pitches forward , off her feet sprawling heavily next to Batgirl's body. Garston is laughing maliciously as she slams the heavy door shut behind her. Wonder Woman turns quickly and dashes to the door, but it is too late.

She hears the locking mechanism click and sees Garston's laughing face on the other side of the glass, soundlessly chuckling. Wonder Woman pushes on the door with all her strength, grimacing, her eyes searching desperately up , down and around the doorway, frantically looking left and right for a way out that isn't there, a weakness that she can exploit but finds none.

A speaker crackles as from the outside Garston presses a button and her voice fills the chamber.

"_THIS_is where I've wanted you all along. Trapped in a steel coffin, just as you left my father. No way out for you this time , you cowardly bitch. Ain't you gonna check on your little friend?"

Wonder Woman glares at her , lips pursed, and then turns from the door to check on Batgirl's fate. Moving with a heavy heart, to her fellow crimefighter's fallen body, she crouches over the still form, about to feel for a pulse. The crumpled form is lying unmoving. Un-breathing . Swallowing hard she touches the shoulder to turn the body over gently. Then she stops suddenly at the touch before violently spinning the torso over . A shop mannequin face greets her from beneath the cowl. She realises too late that she has been duped.

" Hahaha! You idiot! You fell for the same fake costume TWICE!!! You think you're some kind of hero? Some kind of Superbitch, who saves the world? You're pathetic".

Wonder Woman rushes to the door. "Hummmpppph!!U-ugh!!" as she strains against the steel, all the while Garston is laughing. She slaps the inside of the window in desperate frustration. This causes Garston to laugh even harder. Wonder Woman spies the internal intercom button inside the tank and addresses her captor.

"Fine. You have me. I'm helpless. Kill me if you must but PLEASE, I BEG YOU, stop that bomb. Deactivate it,please, I beg you don't end it all like this. You're father died saving me. If you kill me, he will have died for nothing, please…"

"SHUT UP!!! You're not fit to mention his name! Pressure killed him. And now pressure will kill you. I'm adjusting the decompression chamber valves Wonder Bitch. I've disabled the safeties. You got about 45 seconds before you're head explodes. Gotta go, don't like to see such a mess, I got a weak stomach." She waves through the window then turns away, turning back once as she walks away to smile and wave over her shoulder at the desperate face of the Amazon, reduced to pointlessly slapping the glass and mouthing "NO!NO!"

Wonder Woman could already feel the painful pressure building against her eardrums, She tries several blows against the glass but makes no impression. There is nothing loose in the chamber to use against the glass. She is forced to cover her ears with her hands in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. She is grimacing, wincing as the pain in her eyes grows as the fluid is pressurized in her eyes. Some 15 seconds have gone by. She has to think. She has to ignore the pain. Her strengthis no use against the sealed, pressurised door. And the glass won't shatter. But the weak point is definitely the glass. She needs to find something with a point, something to score or crack the glass so her strength can do the rest and exploit the weak point. Her tiara. The red jewelled star at its centre is a red diamond. In agony, she quickly removes the tiara, using it to score the glass in a cross pattern then twice more across the intersection. Some 30 seconds must have passed by now anda warm trickle of blood from her nose and her ear tells her she only has a few seconds more. With all her strength she punches the glass. The scored lines crack but do not break.

Desperately she throws one last crucial punch. With a rush of air the glass explodes outwards, the released pressure even causing the door to buckle outwards a little. Wonder Woman collapses, gulping air as the painful pressure on her body eases. Gasping, relieved, she gathers her wits for a second. Dabbing the blood from her nose she reaches through the shattered window, opening the door from outside by throwing the levers that sealed her in.

Garston at the far corner of the hold by the compressed air tank hears the rush of exploding air and turns back to face the Amazon.

"No-no-no-no-no-no-no- NOOOOO!" she screams, running back towards the Amazon.

"Why won't you just DIE!" she shouts , quickly pocketing her gun and lunging for the Paradise Island princess, tears streaming down her face, screaming , her hands at Wonder Woman's throat.

Meanwhile, up on deck assault choppers were moving in at bow and stern, dropping off special forces who abseiled to the deck. More troops, marines, were scaling up ropes from fast attack boats that had pulled alongside. Some of the crew had believed the announcement, some had not. Some had just believed it but decided to slug it out with the authorities anyway. Too much to lose to go quietly.Tregenna had left the bridge in the not exactly capable hands of the wounded Tommy. Dave in the engine room had happily bought into the idea of being a good guy, largely on the basis of a promised state of the art prosthetic little finger. No more would the tattoos on his knuckles read 'LOVE ' and 'HAT'. His number 2, Reynolds was helping Tregenna round up those willing to quit and take out those who would not. Four diehards were holed up in the aft deckhouse, armed to the teeth. The Cornishman had assumed Romeré was one of them. He was wrong.

The assault teams were announcing something over their speakers in the choppers, but the sound from the rotors and the gunfire drowned out the words. Tregenna wasn't listening anyway. He was looking at the huge figure of the Frenchman that had blocked his path astern, and the equally huge knife he held. Wild gunfire from the crew was being answered by the short, clipped precision bursts of those who killed people for a living and were earning that living now. Romeré didn't seem to notice or care. Tregenna eyed him warily, noticing his balance and stance.

"You ever a 'White Cap' then Frenchie? "Tregenna asked him.

Romeré smiled. "Yes , English. Not for long though, 2 years I Legionnaire. You don''t 'ave to be foreign, as they ask no questions. Then I get bored with army, so I become sailor. You, you not special though English? Not SAS, not SBS. You just a navy diver, eh?" There was a flurry of fists as the two traded punches, Romeré's fists hitting Tregenna like sledge hammers. He held the knife, but chose to punch rather than stab. He knew he had the beating of the smaller Englishman. So did Tregenna. He looked grim.

"Aye , I'm just navy…"

"Then I gut you quick I think!" Romeré smiled as he lunged at the Cornishman, who skipped back lightly on his toes. The Frenchman came on again, faster each time, and each time Tregenna hopped back but now he was out of room, pressed up against the taff rail. Romeré knew he had him, but was in no hurry. But he wasn't ready for Tregenna's next action. As the Frenchman came again Tregenna clubbed his hand down on the wrist holding the knife, driving the blade into his own upper thigh. Romeré laughed as Tregenna winced with pain, but to the Frenchman's surprise the Cornishman held the hand tight to the knife, stopping Romeré pulling it free. The pain must have been intense but as the confused Frenchman tried to twist the blade free, Tregenna was actually smiling through gritted teeth as he held the blade tight in to his own leg.

"I'm just navy…but its British Navy at that Frenchie." With that, he kicked the big man between the legs causing him to double over, whilst at the same time dropping to his wounded knee and pushing Romeré's upper body back while still holding the arm and keeping the knife in his flesh. The big man's weight and balance were gone and he found himself against the stern taff rail. His big frame meant that he was toppling against the railings, his centre of balance shifted by being pinned to Tregenna. A final head butt from the smaller man was enough to jerk him backwards, causing his upper body to go back whilst Tregenna suddenly brought his wounded knee up, his face a mask of agony and determination, and with it Romeré's rigid armcame up, as he lunged forward towards the Frenchman. Romeré , reeling from the head butt to his nose, disorientated and off balance, felt the rail at his right hip. And he could also feel his body shift and fall as his own weight pivoted him over it. He could not move one leg with his full weight upon it. But the other instinctively swung up to try and adjust position, and counter balance as his free arm flailed empty air. It was enough to change his centre of gravity , but not for the better. Tregenna looped his free hand under Romeré's knee and hauled the big man up, off the deck, his entire weight now supported on the rail, just the tip of his right toe on the deck. At last Tregenna pulled the wrist and the hand holding the knife free, but still gripped it fiercely. Romeré was wide eyed and wild , but with two thirds of his body over the rail it was only the Cornishman's grip that that was keeping him steady. They both knew it.

"Steered you into me leg, Frenchie.Away from the muscle, away from the arteries. Oh it hurts like hell an' I'll probably 'ave a limp the rest o' me days but the point is, Frenchie, that I will have those days".

"English…" Romeré began.

" 'Gut me quick' , wasn't it? Well, I ain't vindictive,Frenchie, no hard feelings, I'm gonna let you go…."

Back in the hold, Wonder Woman resisted Garston easily, grabbing both her wrists as the doctor, impotent, collapses sobbing into her arms, her body sagging. Wonder Woman releases her wrists, grabbing her around the body to support her weight. Garston's cheek is on the Amazon's shoulder her warm tears running down her back. The doctor pulls away slightly and thrusts her gun up under Wonder Woman's chin pushing her head back. The Amazon freezes , releasing her grip , her hands raising slowly in supplication.

"I'm gonna see your head explode after all!" spits the doctor between clenched teeth.

"Your father saved lives. He saved mine. Was that just so you can take it?"

"SHUT UP!!!" Garston moves slightly as she presses the trigger, but Wonder Woman's hands are in like lightning, seizing the gun and pushing it away easily as the hammer falls on an empty chamber.

"NOOOOO!No!No!No! NO!!!" Garston screams like a spoilt child with her favourite toy confiscated. Sobbing, she drops to her knees. "Well, at least we die together , you bitch. No way you can stop the bomb."

"Listen. YOU have to stop it, please. PLEASE! It's over. Your father wouldn't want this. He was a good man. What I said before was true, he sacrificed himself to save me and his crew. Please, for his sake, turn it off."

"Off? Oh yeah, I'll set up a weapon of ultimate vengeance, spend 3 years of my life planning it and then give it AN OFF SWITCH IN CASE I CHANGE MY MIND!!!! You've seen too many Bond movies you dumb bimbo. I set the countdown before we left port. I was never coming out of this. I just wanted the satisfaction of seeing you die first. Well at least I get to take you with me."

"Where is it, please, you have to tell me!" Wonder Woman grabs her, shaking her, realising that with Garston not co-operating she will have to use her lariat of truth. But then Garston does tell her where it is, without saying a word. At the mention of the bomb, Garston 's eyes flickered over towards the large compressed air canister in the corner. It was also where Garston had been walking to when Wonder Woman broke out of the decompression chamber. Wonder Woman turned to look at it and Garston realises she has guessed the secret. Releasing the doctor, Wonder Woman rushes over to the cylinder, spotting that it's been cut vertically and hinged. She opens it gingerly to reveal the complicated wiring and timer of a bomb. The compartment is split , with two containers which presumably house the uranium ,with large amounts of industrial and military explosives packed around them, which, once brought together by the blast will exceed critical mass. There is a digital timer with associated batteries, counting down : 4mins 14…13…12…

"You can't stop it!" screams Garston triumphantly. "Any tampering with the wires and its rigged to blow!" she sneers."This was always a one way trip for me." Outside, gunfire can be heard over the top of the helicopter engines. Someone down the corridor shouts "CLEAR!" as running feet approach.

"IN HERE!" calls Wonder Woman , grabbing the doctor as several armed marines enter in text book military fashion, together with an ungainly limping Cornishman, bleeding and bruised but still smiling from a bloodied mouth.

"Hiya love!" he calls affably, his grin and up beat mood belying the seriousness of the situation. "Oh, you found it then. This is Cap'nBettinger,USMC, and Sgt Rye; Marines Emaitch and Shakeshift. Any of you lads know about atom bombs?" the marines nod acknowledgement reluctantly as Wonder Woman shakes her head.

"Not really…." She answers, handing the doctor over to the two marines

"We got an expert, he was on the other chopper." Bettinger presses his ear piece and speaks into his throat mike. "Red Fox-to- Blue Angel, Addison, where the hell is Professor Carter?............. ……….. WHAT?......SHIT!" He looks up at the concerned faces. "Their pinned down at the stern. " He presses the throat mike again "ADDISON, get him down to hold 2 ASAP or we are all toast!"

He looked at Tregenna. "We got standard explosives training, and we got the principles of the bomb specs …" he answers inadequately.

Tregenna looked at him and his men. "Well, I know sod all about nuclear bombs but I was a Navy diver for 14 years, defusing old sea mines and such, and I've set enough underwater charges on the rigs to know what I'm doin'. What we got to lose eh?Same principles, just a bigger bang. I'll give it a go". He says happily.

"Negative sir, you are a civilian, stand down, our expert is on the way."

"Son, you're …what…32? 15 years or so service I reckon. I been doin' this man and boy for 30 years, working with explosives , I mean. Besides I've always wanted to save the world and your expert has got 2mins 30 ….29…28 to get here AND DEFUSE IT.Let's take a look, shall we?" He ignores Bettinger and pushes passed to view the contents of the cylinder. "Well , no way we can separate the charges from the timer, it's all rigged to go up. Nice job too, if I'm honest." 2 mins 20…19…18. He runs his eye over the interior. "Got a torch, Cap'n?" Marine Emaitch hands his over. Sure enough the torchlight reveals trip wires and trembler switches buried amidst the darkened interior of the casing, but with fairly wide gaps to allow for the roll of the ship.

"2 minutes " one of the marines calls out drily. Tregenna stops and gives him a withering look. "Well , thanks for that update boy." He turns back to the bomb.

1 min 50…49….48 the digital display flashes, dis-passionately.

"Can't touch the Uranium, can't touch the explosives-C4 I thinks it is- and can't touch the wires. Nor the timer." He looks up at Garston, who smiles triumphantly. "Fortunately for us all though, I can just take out the battery." He pulls it free and stands up nonchalantly. "I was gonna milk that until the last second, but me back was playin' up, squattin' down there." He smiled, tossing the battery to Bettinger. Amid much relief and back slapping, one figure stands dejected.

"NO….." she mutters to herself, "NO!" she cries, held firm by Rye and Shakeshift. A final distant burst of gunfire signals an end to the resistance at the stern. Wonder Woman approaches Garston compassionately, putting a hand on her arm.

"You aren't well. You'll get help. Your father wouldn't have wanted this…"

"What the hell do you know about it, huh?" Garston snarls at the Amazon, shaking her hand off her arm.

"I know I only met him briefly but in that short time he saved my life and those of his crew. He could have made it into the rescue diving bell, but he saw the danger to me and closed the door on his side and signalled them to pull away for me to get aboard. If there hadn't been more seaquakes we could've come back for him, but he was always thinking of others. His last words were even about somebody else.

Garston perked up."What did he say…?"

"It was cut off when the sub shifted onto his craft…"

"BUT WHAT WAS IT? What did he say? How do you know it was about someone else?"

"He …he just said"Tell Alex" and then he started to say something but it was cut off. We couldn't trace who Alex was. Do you know? It was none of his colleagues, his school friends, college mates, his crew, family or family friends , we checked them all."

"No one asked me…Typical navy fuck up. It's me…."Garston said quietly. "It was his pet name for me…"

Wonder Woman stares blankly at her. "Alex? But your Catherine.."

"Catherine ANDREA - his little joke ALEX-ANDREA, Alexandria the city in Egypt. He loved that place, met my mom there when he was on sabbatical. He always called me Alex, like a nickname." She breathes in heavily, composing herself through the tears.

"Please, what did he try and say to me? Exactly, before it was….before the end. Please , word for word."

"He just said ' Just tell Alex it was….' And that was all, he didn't get to say what it was or finish the sentence even. I'm sorry…" Wonder Woman sympathises.

Garston's tears are rolling silently over her cheeks. She is beaming. She unhooks her small necklace and hands it over silently to Wonder Woman. It is a simple locket, which when opened has a tiny picture of her with her father when she was a little girl.

"Look at the inscription." Garston advises

On the inside are the words

'Dearest Alex, I.T.O.S.'

"He wasn't saying 'It was', he was saying 'ITOS' ."Her tears were flowing freely now, as she tried to stifle the sobs.

"ITOS?" frowned Captain Bettinger.

"It's Latin." Garston explained. "It was a kinda motto of his, a sort of work and life ethic if you like.

'IN TE OMNIA SUNT'.I-T-O-S. Literally, 'within you there is all', meaning that you can do anything , be anything you want to be. Daddy's take on it was 'Everything depends on you'. Garston looks tearfully at the picture as she retrieves the locket. "Oh daddy, I'm so sorry . What have I done?"

"You'll get proper care" Wonder Woman says consolingly. "You can still make amends in other ways. There'll be other chances to make your father proud of you one day, I'm sure."

---

On docking back at San Francisco harbour, Wonder Woman was met by Steve and other IADC agents at the quayside.

"Wonder Woman! So glad you are OK! Do you know where Diana Prince is, I'm worried about her" Steve calls.

"She's fine…she…she's just doing something for me….I'm sure she'll be back soon …"She answered awkwardly. Behind her, Jim Tregenna hobbled down the gang plank. Wonder Woman introduces him.

"Oh , Steve, this is James-"

"Jimmy" he interjects.

"Oh, sorry, Jimmy Tregenna, He…um…well saved the day as it were." The two men shook hands awkwardly. Steve was immaculate in a grey business suit with powder blue tie over a white shirt, with a waistcoat, whilst Tregenna was bleeding from the hastily applied bandages to his leg, his face was battered, swollen and slightly puffy around his right eye from his fight with Romeré. The two could not have been more different. And on top of it all , WONDER Woman now realised, Tregenna's reefer jacket stank of old fish.

"Where is Romeré, anyway?"she asked as Garston and surviving crew members are ushered away.

Jimmy looked a little shifty, nervously dropping his gaze to look at his feet. "Well, he was a shipmate , after all…so I 'elped get away, like"

"GET AWAY!" exclaimed the Amazon with concern.

"Aye.He gave me his knife to look after..."Tregenna patted his injured leg "an' I 'elped 'im over the side." He grinned.

Steve turned to confer with some of the agents as Jimmy smiled nervously at the Amazon.

"Look miss, I don' even know your name, proper like…but… you wanna get some grub? I mean something to eat?" Jimmy asked earnestly.

"With YOU? " she asked incredulously, with a little more vehemence than she had intended.Tregenna looked hurt.

"Well…yeah"

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean it to sound that way. I mean…you're a nice guy an' all …it's just …I don't go out with guys".

"Oh….OH! Shit, sorry I didn't know you were that way…er…inclined…that you..er…prefer…er…well that you're a lesb-"

"Oh no, I am not like that, I mean not in that way… I just mean I…look you're a really nice guy but…"

"No that's fine. I understand really." Tregenna looked awkward.

They exchanged their goodbyes stiffly and she left with Steve, leaving Tregenna looking after her as she walked down the jetty.

"Jesus. Helluva shape on 'er."Tregenna said softly to himself. But what a stuck up bitch, he thought. Wouldn't even go for a meal with him.Snobby cow. He wasn't good enough for her. HER! Who bloody wandered about dressed like a tart with her tits hanging out.

Oh well. Plenty more fish in the sea , Jimmy lad.

As he watched her spectacular ass wiggle down the jetty alongside that 'smarmy bloody yank' as he mentally had labelled Steve, for the first time since he'd met Wonder Woman, he didn't feel guilty. He smiled to himself, pulled up the collar of his jacket against the cold, west wind and limped down the pier, towards the ambulance waiting for him.

He had no money. No job. No place to stay. No greencard either , come to that. But he had saved the world from a fairly spectacular disaster that would've ruined a big chunk of it. He smiled at the thought. And he smiled for another reason too- no more guilty conscience after she had snubbed him like that.

No, for the first time since he had met her , he didn't feel guilty. He didn't feel guilty about hitting her accidentally with the crowbar. He didn't feel guilty about knocking her out with his pistol when he thought Romeré was going to shoot her. But above all, he didn't feel guilty about fucking her brains out when she was unconscious on the map room table and Romeré had gone to tell the doctor.

As he limped down the jetty, he started to sing tunelessly to himself, the same song he always sang when he was pleased with himself over something he'd done.

"Bless you, bless you,

All you pretty girls…."

THE END.