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end against her nipple. He held it there for a long while as Bel writhed in the chair to the limits of her restraints. Finally he took it away.
    This became the new pattern, with Tucker alternating between her left breast and her right. He asked the usual questions and received the usual answers. He didn’t believe her, of course – couldn’t believe her, probably, after the dressing-down he’d received from his commanding officer. And perhaps he didn’t want to believe her. He’d been made to look a fool in front of his subordinates, and now he was taking his revenge in the cruellest way imaginable. The sight and sound of Bel in such distress was almost more than Jo could bear, but eventually there came a pause that was longer than usual. Something new was happening, she realised. The questioning had stopped and the men were looking at Bel differently.
    â€˜The bitch isn’t going to spill it, is she?’ Tucker said bitterly. ‘Not at five, she isn’t.’
    â€˜You want to increase power, major?’ Clemens asked.
    Tucker sighed and shook his head; and then he froze, as if something had occurred to him. In ghastly slow motion he swivelled round and stared straight at Jo. Sick fear swept through her and her chest tightened till she could scarcely breathe.
    â€˜Maybe Miss Mickleberry will be more amenable,’ he said.
    â€˜You think so, sir?’
    â€˜Hell,’ Tucker muttered, ‘what have we got to lose?’
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    Bel had to be helped out of the chair, and she leaned heavily on the two troopers as they brought her back to the cables. The instant they let go she sank to the floor where she lay on her side, eyes misted with pain, her breathing rapid and ragged. It was clear the men considered her no threat; for they secured her with just a single cuff around one ankle. Then they turned their attention to Jo.
    Unlike her captain Jo didn’t go quietly. When they released her she fought and struggled, yelling, trying in vain to pull free; a contest she hadn’t the faintest hope of winning. Strong arms folded around her and hands grabbed her arms and legs, dragging her over to the chair. Soon she was secured; and never in all her life had she felt so helpless, so vulnerable, and so horribly afraid.
    â€˜You know how this works,’ Tucker said. ‘Tell us what we need to know and it ends right now. Try to tough it out and you get to ride this.’
    He brought the baton close to her groin – and the words poured from her lips in one long stream, falling over each other in their desperation to get out. She told them everything that had happened; from the pre-flight briefing to the instant she blacked out right after the second missile struck. It wasn’t what they wanted to hear, she knew, but it was the truth. She had nothing else to give them.
    When finally she ran out of steam there was silence. The men regarded her seriously, thoughtfully. Long seconds ticked by; then finally Tucker spoke.
    â€˜So,’ he said quietly, ‘you’re confirming the captain’s story.’
    Jo tried to nod, but the strap around her forehead prevented it. ‘Yes,’ she gasped. ‘It was a routine patrol, nothing more. And Bel… Captain Franklin, wiped the deck when we realised we couldn’t get away. The core memory’s erased, I swear.’
    Tucker stared at her as though trying to see into her brain. And then he nodded slowly – and relief surged through her. He believed her. They weren’t going to hurt her. Reaction set in and a shudder ran through her from top to toe.
    â€˜Okay,’ he said quietly, ‘we’ll do it the hard way.’ Before Jo had time to realise what was happening he put the baton between her legs and pushed it into her. It was the worst pain she had ever known. She groaned, straining against the straps as she instinctively tried to close her legs. It felt as if there was a living creature