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 Chapter 7

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Lyra made the final adjustments to the "pirate uniform" that would be her disguise.  Mottled shades of brown seemed to be more popular that gray among the ragtag band, so she'd gone with the brown option.  There might be less chance someone would recognize this particular bikini as the property of one of the naked pirates currently serving as group entertainment.  The Carmow had supplied a plain leather pouch with a flap that would serve as a holster for her hand-phaser, as well as a matching belt.  Some of the pirates were armed with looted Starfleet weapons, but there was no need to attract unwanted attention as a junior pirate in possession of a valuable prize.  One of her senior "fellow pirates" might try forcing a trade.  Her combat knife was strapped to her right thigh, tucked in a borrowed leather sheath

As far as the rescue attempt was concerned, the remainder of her Starfleet equipment was a lost cause.  It was simply too conspicuous.  Her comm-badge was tucked inside her bikini bottom, if and/or when they had to make contact with Ezri on the cutter or with ARTEMIS, but she'd have to leave the rest of her gear in the safekeeping of the Carmow.

There was an addition to Lyra's arsenal, courtesy of her feloid allies.  It was a thin, hollow tube of wood about twenty centimeters in length.  It held a single dart fletched with downy feathers, its tip dipped in a potent narcotic.  They couldn't be absolutely certain of the effectiveness of the drug against an Orion, but Purrgatah assured her a single well-placed dart rendered one of the local herd-beasts unconscious in seconds.  The use of drugged projectiles in war was forbidden by inter-clan agreement, but the gathered leaders had decided the current situation was one of pest elimination and not honorable warfare.  Not only would they allow Lyra to use the dart, but they would drug their arrows, as well.

Lyra's thoughts remained on the meeting that had just broken up.  The decision to dip their arrows in "sleep-weed" had inspired Lyra to suggest what, for the Carmow, would be a radical strategy.

When they attacked at sunrise, instead of a mass charge of their entire strength with the goal of annihilating the entire Orion camp, she suggested they drug and capture as many of the pirates as they could.  They should use half their force to spirit away their prisoners and weapons, and to evacuate any of their comrades stunned in the attack.  The clans should then divide and hide the Orion captives in deep caves and caverns, where the pirates' scanners couldn't find them, and use them as hostages to negotiate for the return of Zeeka and any other captured Carmow.  Meanwhile, Lyra and the rescued "star friends" would flee into the jungle and rejoin the Carmow.

Lyra had explained how they had to be quick, not taking the time to capture every pirate and loot the camp.  They had to get in and get out, before the pirates in orbit could respond by using their "star magic" (transporters) to whisk away their surviving friends and their vast firepower to punish the attackers.  The pirates would probably resort to aggression at some point, anyway, but, if the clans could open exchange negotiations and drag them out until ARTEMIS returned, they might capture all the pirates.

After surprisingly little debate, the clan leaders accepted Lyra's plan.  Up until now, the slavers had been a mysterious, unstoppable threat, taking their friends and loved ones with near impunity.  The Carmow were a fierce, brave species, but intelligent enough to see that strange, new enemies might call for strange, new tactics.  The elders agreed that the plan of "Green War-Kitten" was much better than the mass death of the warriors of seven clans.

Lyra knew she might be earning herself a reprimand, but after receiving her solemn pledge to keep the powerful weapon set on stun, Lyra had shown Purrgatah how to sight and fire her phaser-rifle.  It was a direct violation of Starfleet regulations to arm a native of a pre-warp culture with such lethal technology, but Lyra hoped Captain T'Pax would see the necessity of her actions.  Besides, the Carmow were bending their rules.  In any case, Lyra would rather have a million black marks on her record than lose her captured shipmates to the pirates.  Also, phaser-stunned Federation citizens accused of slave trafficking and space piracy could be tried in court, whereas corpses punctured by dozens of arrows could not.

She'd also explained to Purrgatah that the pirates would be able to home in on the phaser-rifle's location whenever it was used, and they agreed it would be fired only if the rescue attempt went spectacularly wrong or to aid the planned mass attack.  Lyra had two hours to accomplish the rescue of her shipmates.  When the sun rose, the Carmow would attack.

"Pathfinder," Lyra said as she finished plaiting the second of the two thin braids that now framed her face, "about your sister..."

"Yes?" the Carmow sighed.  She had been standing and watching Lyra's preparations, letting her think.

"I saw her placed in a life-support capsule and transported away, probably up to one of their ships."  She turned and focused on the Carmow's face.  "I... I don't know if we can get her back, no matter how many pirate hostages we take.  We'll try, but if they've already left the system..."  She coiled the bulk of her hair in a tight bun and used the blowgun as a hairpin to keep it in place, then turned to face the Pathfinder.

"I already know that the pirates had magicked her away," Purrgatah growled.  "Zeeka is in the hands of the gods, as are we all."

"We'll do our best to get her back.  All of us will do our best."

Purrgatah's lips curled in a toothless smile.  "Brave words.  And they shine with truth like the rising sun."  She extended her right hand and they shook, grasping elbows in the Carmow manner.  "Wait for our diversion, my young star-friend."

"Yes, Pathfinder," Lyra answered, then released her hold, turned, and headed for the clearing.

Several Carmow stepped from the shadows and joined Purrgatah around the tiny fire.

"She is a kitten," the gray-stripped Champion sighed.

"She is a warrior," Purrgatah responded.  "Come, my friends.  We have much to accomplish before dawn."

The fire was extinguished in an instant and the Carmow melted into the jungle night.
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 Chapter 7
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Lyra waited at the edge of the clearing, at a carefully chosen point midway between two of the pirate guard posts.  Any time now...

Suddenly, a warbling chant sounded from the far side of the camp.  Every pirate head swiveled to watch as three fire-tipped arrows flew from the jungle, arced high into the air, then fell into the grass only a few meters from the dark green wall of vegetation.

One of the pirates on watch stood and extended her hand-scanner, then turned to face the main camp and gave a dismissive wave.  "Only three cats," she shouted, "already moving away."

The nearest pirates stomped out the fires slowly spreading from the arrows while the rest went back to feasting, drinking, and carousing, unaware that their number had increased by one.  Lyra had sprinted forward—then dropped to the ground once she was even with the two guard posts.  Prone in the grass, she waited a full minute for the guards to turn back and refocus their attention on their sectors of the perimeter, then crawled towards the center of the camp.

The infiltration point was also between two of the pirate campfires.  Once Lyra was several meters past the guards, she waited until none of the carousing pirates seemed to be looking in her direction, then rose to her feet.  Her sudden appearance seemed to have passed unnoticed.  She faced the jungle and made a show of gazing into the dark night, as if looking for Carmow attackers.  Still no reaction from the pirates.  Finally, after several seconds, she turned and strolled towards the Human prisoners.

Angie and Gwen were still nude, hogtied, gagged, on their stomachs, and tethered between the two stakes.  Angie turned her gagged face towards Lyra—and her eyes popped wide in surprise.  "Mmmpfh!"

"That's right, Kipper," Lyra chuckled as she knelt and began untying Angie's ankles, "I've decided to change sides.  I'm a pirate."  She untied her fellow Middie's neck tether from the rope between the stakes, and then her cleave-gag.

Angie spit out the rag stuffing. "P'tuh!  You idiot!" she hissed.  "You're gonna get yourself caught!"

"Yeah," Lyra grinned, "and if I'm caught trying to rescue you, there will be no one to rescue you.  Do you see the flaw in your logic?"  She shifted to Gwen and began releasing the doctor's feet.

"Tree Frog!" Angie sighed.  "Really, this is too big a risk."

"Hey!" a voice shouted.  "What do you think you're doing?"

"Frakk!" Lyra cursed under her breath, then stood and faced the speaker.  Three pirates were approaching from one of the nearby fires.

"I said," the central pirate growled, "what do you think you're doing?"

Lyra gestured towards the red pavilion.  "The Prime Suzerain," she said.  "She—she told me to fetch the prisoners."

The pirate smiled, and her companions chuckled.  "She did, did she?"  She looked Lyra up and down.  "Where are your boots?" she demanded.

Lyra gestured towards the tent, again.

"I see," the pirate purred, continuing to gaze at Lyra.  "So... our Marta spies a sweet young newbie from another crew... and decides to make an orgy of it.  What happened to the little pink-skin's gag?"

"She worked it loose," Lyra lied.  "I was about to retie it."  She knelt and grabbed the expelled rag, shook it out and scrunched in into a wad, then stuffed it back in Angie's mouth.  "Chew on this, pink-skin," she snarled as she tightened and knotted the cleave gag.  "Sorry," she mouthed, silently, making sure her back was to the watching pirates.  "On your feet, slaves!" she ordered.

Angie and Gwen awkwardly hauled themselves to their feet, then glared at Lyra.  Playing her part, their green shipmate smiled a dimpled, gloating smile, took hold of the ends of their leashes, then turned towards the red pavilion.

"Wait!" the pirate barked, then stepped forward and cupped Lyra's chin.  "Such a pretty little thing," she sighed, then kissed Lyra full on the lips.  Her watching companions chuckled.  "Suffer Marta's ropes well, shorty.  And remember, once you are helpless and under the spell of her musk—it will be paradise."  She kissed Lyra, again, then turned, and with her laughing friends walked walked back towards their fire.

"I'll keep that in mind," Lyra muttered, then turned to Angie and Gwen.  "Okay, once they forget about us...  Oh, double-frakk."  The pirates had reached the fire and were explaining the situation to their comrades.  Twenty or more pirates were laughing and lifting their goblets and bottles in Lyra's direction in salute.  "So much for melting into the night," Lyra sighed.

The plan, if you could call it that, had been to rescue Angie and Gwen and then decide how they should try and rescue Olena.  Sneaking into the pavilion seemed the logical tactic.  But, marching into the pirate captain's tent with Angie and Gwen still bound and gagged, Lyra the only one not bound and gagged, and with the entire pirate encampment watching and cheering them on?  A full-blown parade hadn't even been a contingency.
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 Chapter 7
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Olena was suspended in midair, a meter off the ground.  Marta's red silk rope bound her wrists to their respective ankles and she dangled head up, butt down, and bent forward at the waist.  Her arms and legs were straight and widely splayed.  Rather than simply hanging from her bonds, she was trapped in a complex network of taut rope with multiple, interconnected strands binding her thighs, waist, shoulders, wrists, and ankles. Rope traveled back and forth between various lashing points in the pavilion's rigid framework and Olena's body.  It could have been described as either a hammock or a web with equal accuracy, but given the sinister context, web was probably the more appropriate term.  A doubled strand of rope encircled her brow and was linked to the other ropes, supporting and immobilizing her cleave-gagged head.

In addition, red cord had been knotted around the base of each of her breasts and stretched into a continuous, taut, secondary web that linked her big toes, nipples, and thumbs.  The ropes and cords were uniformly taut, pinning Olena in position and conspiring with gravity to allow her only the most minuscule of wiggling attempts to find some form of comfort.

A bead of sweat slowly ran down Olena's nose and fell on her right breast.  Instinctively, she flinched.  The rope web constricted, tightening the noose around her left nipple.  Somehow, Marta had interwoven the ropes and cords in a way that transmitted and augmented all motion. Like a boa constrictor squeezing the life out of its victim, the web was slowly torturing Olena's body.  She had been staring at that nipple for some time, because she knew that somehow it was indirectly linked to her right toe, and her right foot was beginning to cramp.  Earlier, she had tried flexing and pointing the foot, but the jolt of pain it had caused in her nipple had brought the effort to an abrupt end.  The pain from the cramp was getting worse, and she knew that soon she would have to risk moving the foot, again.

Olena relaxed as best she could, shifted her gaze and glared at her tormentor with tired, half-closed eyes.

Marta was across the tent, gazing back.  She'd just removed her bikini of mottled green silk and changed into a long, sleeveless robe of silk gauze as transparent as smoke.  The gossamer fabric may have been red, or that might have been only an impression caused by the glimmer of the countless ruby seed-beads sewn randomly across its shimmering folds.  The robe did nothing to disguise the sensuous curves of the pirate queen's exquisite body.  Still wearing her green leather thigh-boots, as well as various items of ruby-studded jewelry, Marta smiled and slowly strolled to Olena.

Olena flinched when Marta raised a hand and caressed her lewdly exposed crotch.

"Oh, still sensitive from the whipping I gave you?" Marta purred, running her fingers through Olena's dark blond pubic thatch.  "Hmm... I think I may have this plucked," she said, then locked eyes with her blond captive.  "Still the brave and defiant warrior.  Just as well.  I'm hours away from becoming bored with tormenting your pink body."

Just then, there was a rustling noise and the pavilion's doorway flaps parted.  Marta turned and frowned.  "What's the meaning of—"  A smile curled her lips as she watched Lyra lead the naked, bound, and gagged Angie and Gwen across the threshold.  "Oh."

Lyra's head was lowered, her eyes on the carpeted floor.  "I was told to bring the Human slaves, Prime Suzerain," she explained.

"And to remove your boots, first?" Marta purred.  She walked forward and lifted Lyra's chin, gazing into her eyes.  "I don't recognize you, little one.  What is your name?"

"Lyra, Prime Suzerain."

"Lyra," Marta repeated.  "Tether your charges," she ordered, gesturing towards a row of steel rings dangling just above head level from chains attached to a horizontal brace of the pavilion's frame.

"Yes, Prime Suzerain," Lyra responded, and dragged her shipmates towards the rings.

Gwen's eyes were on Olena, but she managed to disguise her reaction to her lover's plight.  Angie's eyes popped wide in alarm, but she otherwise managed to control herself, as well.  Lyra looped their neck tethers through a ring and began tying a knot.

"No, no, no," Marta sighed, shaking her head.  She stepped forward, took Gwen's tether, and transferred her to a neighboring ring.  "Like this."  She pulled the slack from Gwen's tether until she had no choice but to go up on her toes.  The Ruby Queen then pulled the rope between Gwen's legs and through her crotch, making sure it nestled between her labia, then took a turn around her waist and tied a quick knot.  "And now you," she ordered, nodding to Lyra.

"Sorry," Lyra whispered in Angie's ear, as she mimicked the pirate queen's actions.

Soon, both Humans were on their toes, gagged, box-tied, and straining to keep their weight off their crotch-rope/neck-tethers.

Marta strolled back to her bed of scattered cushions, settled into a semi-reclined position, then smiled at Lyra.  "Boots," she ordered.

Lyra scampered forward, knelt, and began unlacing Marta's right thigh-boot.

"And which of my captains has sent me such a delicious gift?" Marta purred.

"I was ordered not to tell, Prime Suzerain," Lyra answered.

"Ordered, were you?" Marta chuckled.  "Told to strip off your boots, bring me more slaves to play with, and to be mysterious to the point of insubordination?  How... interesting."

"I'm sorry, Prime Suzerain."  Lyra pulled Marta's right boot from her foot, then started unlacing the left.  A ghost of a flirtatious smile curling her lips, she glanced at Marta's smiling face, then returned to the task at hand.

"No matter," Marta sighed as her left boot slithered from her leg.  "Ahhh."  She raised her arms and pointed her toes in a full-body stretch, then focused on Lyra's kneeling form.  "Such a pretty little thing you are, Lyra."  She turned her head and addressed her Andorian captive.  "Don't you agree, Captain ch'Eclat?"

Chel was still in her suspended spread-eagle, with the null-gravity generator supporting most of her weight and its attached dildo teasing her pussy.  "Pretty enough, for an Orion whelp," she muttered.  "I could get a good price for her."

"If you were still in that part of the business," Marta chuckled, then focused on Lyra, again.  "Bathe my feet," she ordered.

Lyra stood and looked around the tent until she located the required supplies.  She filled a basin with water from a tall ewer, draped a red towel over one arm, and carefully returned to Marta.  She knelt, lifted the smiling pirate's right foot over the basin, and ladled the cool water over the pointing foot with her cupped hands.  After a thorough wetting, she gave the foot a gentle massage, toweled it dry, then did the same with Marta's left foot.

"You are good with your hands, Lyra," Marta purred.  "You have been well-trained by your mother."

"Thank you, Prime Suzerain," Lyra whispered.  Marta's musk-of-power filled the air, and the scent was compelling—not as it would have been to a male, of course.  To Lyra, it was simply—pleasant.

"Remove your clothing," Marta ordered.

"Yes, Prime Suzerain."  Lyra stood, walked several paces away, then released her holster belt and let it drop to the floor,  Her knife and sheath followed, and then she began removing her bikini.  This was a formal, recognized form of seduction.  Like dancing, it was something every Orion female was taught as a girl.  She knew Marta was watching, so she was careful to make sure her hidden comm-badge remained hidden as she folded the bikini bottom.

Naked, Lyra went up on her toes and spread her arms to either side.  Her eyes closed and her chin raised, she waited.  It was the "pose of offering", the finale of a traditional disrobing.

Seconds passed—and finally, Marta spoke.  "You delicious little flirt.  Bring the shorter of the two Humans to me."

Lyra padded to Angie and began untying her crotch-rope tether.  "Hang in there, Kipper," she whispered.  "I'll think of something."

"What did you say?" Marta demanded.

"I told her to behave herself," Lyra answered, "or I'd punish her."

"I see," Marta chuckled.  "Not to worry.  That one is nearly my musk-slave.  Place her here," she ordered, gesturing at her own crotch.

"Nrrfh!" Angie complained, struggling as Lyra dragged her towards the pirate queen.

"There, you see?" Marta chuckled.  "She wants to play."

Disguising her dismay at what she was being required to do, Lyra forced Angie to her knees and thrust her head between Marta's splayed legs.

Marta took hold of Angie's tousled hair with both hands and forced her gagged face against her crotch.  "Get a good whiff, Starfleet," she chuckled, then focused on Lyra.  "Bring a slave-wand and a coil of rope.  The wand is for the Human.  The rope is for you, my young flirt."

"Yes, Prime Suzerain," Lyra whispered, and hastened to obey.  There was no denying the fact that Marta was hot.  If she hadn't become a criminal, she might have become an entertainer, famous throughout the Federation.  Lyra reminded herself to concentrate on her mission and to control her attraction to the pirate queen's erotic presence.

Meanwhile, Marta was untying Angie's cleave-gag.

Angie expelled the cloth stuffed in her mouth.  "No," she gasped, then struggled as Marta refolded the cleave-gag and used it as a blindfold to rob the naked captive of her sight.  "No!  Let me go!"

One hand grasping Angie's hair, Marta used the other to pour Romulan ale into a goblet.  "You must be thirsty, Starfleet," she purred, then held the goblet to Angie's lips.

"No—glub!"  Angie coughed as Marta slowly tipped the goblet, but she managed to down most of the potent liquor.  Only a little dribbled from her mouth to splash her rope-framed breasts.

"There, that's better," Marta chuckled, then tossed away the goblet and thrust Angie's mouth against her glistening labia.  "Time for you to return my kindness, Starfleet," she muttered.

"No—M'rrfh!"  Angie squirmed and tried to resist.

"There," Marta sighed, then gasped.  "Ahhh!  Yes, like that."  Her eyes flashed as she focused on Lyra.  "Pleasure her as she pleasures me," she ordered.

Lyra dropped the coil of rope in her left hand.  She then knelt, thumbed the slave-wand in her right to the first "pleasure" setting, thrust its paddle between Angie's thighs, and held it against her pussy.

"M'MMMFH!"  Angie's entire body went rigid and she shivered in reaction.

"Yes, very good," Marta sighed, also quivering with delight.  "This one has a good tongue.  Untrained, perhaps, but that will be remedied."

Lyra watched as the tendrils of nerve-stimulating energy played across Angie's crotch and thighs.  Her friend thrashed and tugged on her bonds, but it was increasing unclear how much of her struggling was an effort to escape and how much was enthusiasm for the task at hand.  Oh, she is becoming a musk-slave!  Lyra shifted her attention to Marta.  The Orion beauty was breathing deeply, her breasts heaving and nostrils flaring as she squirmed against the cushions.

"Don't worry, Lyra," Marta gasped smiling at Lyra through lidded eyes.  "You turn will come, after I bind you with my ropes."

Your turn will come too! Lyra vowed.  She hated what was happening to Kipper, but all Marta had to do was shout for her crew and Lyra's rescue mission would be over in an instant.  Her best chance of turning the tables would be when the "Prime Suzerain" was at her most distracted—which, by all appearances, would be very soon.

Angie continued probing Marta's sex with her lips and tongue and Lyra continued holding the wand against her sex.  She noticed the surface of the paddle was growing increasingly slippery and increased the pressure.  Angie squealed into Marta's crotch, and at the same time Marta squeezed her eyes shut and her mouth opened in a grimace of ecstasy.

Now is as good a time as any, Lyra decided.  She pulled the blowgun from her hair, put the proper end between her lips, leaned close to Marta's left thigh, and blew!

For a couple of seconds, Marta didn't seem to notice the dart now embedded in her thigh muscle—then, she opened her eyes, stared at the fluffy fletching of the needle-tipped projectile, blinked, and focused on Lyra.  "Why you little—"  She blinked, again, then her eyes rolled up in her head and her body went limp.

"Hah!" Lyra barked in triumph, then thumbed off the slave-wand and tossed it away.

Angie didn't seem to notice.  She continued licking and probing the pirate's pussy.

"Uh, Angie?" Lyra reached out and whisked the blindfold from her fellow Middie's head.

Angie continued pleasuring the unconscious pirate.


The lip slurping and tongue thrusting continued.

"Midshipman Goodnight!"

Angie pulled her head from Marta's crotch, rolled onto her side and blinked up at Lyra in confusion.  "What?"

Lyra smiled and shook her head, then grabbed the coil of rope she had brought for Marta and put it to a use the Ruby Queen had not intended.
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 Chapter 7
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Still somewhat befuddled, Angie watched as Lyra rolled Marta onto her stomach, stripped her of her robe and jewelry (in case they concealed spring-loaded blades or other escape aids), then began tying her wrists behind her back.  Angie idly tugged on her box-tied arms and tried to flex her leather mitten-encased hands.  "How long will she be out?"

"Unknown," Lyra answered.  She used most of the length of rope to bind Marta's crossed wrists, but when about a meter of free end remained, she crossed the pirate queen's ankles and turned her bondage into a simple hogtie.  "Come here," she told her fellow Middie, and Angie scooted forward, still on her knees.  Lyra retrieved Angie's former cleave-gag and stuffing, and used them on Marta.  She then moved behind Angie and began untying her bonds.

Angie's eyes were on Marta's hogtied, gagged, and unconscious form.  "She's beautiful," she sighed.

Lyra rolled her eyes.  "Great," she muttered, "now I have a moon-eyed, besotted musk-slave for a roommate."

"What?"  Angie's eyes were still on Marta's firm, smooth, green curves.

"Nothing," Lyra sighed.  She finished unlacing and removing Angie's mitts, then pointed at Gwen.  "Help the doc," she ordered.  "I'll help Lieutenant Basán."

"Huh?  Oh, yeah!"  Angie scrambled to her feet, rushed to Gwen, and began untying her bonds.

Meanwhile, Lyra hurried to her discarded equipment and buckled the belt and holstered hand-phaser around her waist.  She then tucked her sheathed combat knife in the belt, not bothering to take the time to lace it to her thigh, and rushed to Olena's side, ducking under the web of red silk ropes.

She pulled the knife and quickly severed the cords linking Olena's breasts, nipples, thumbs, and big toes, then carefully slid the blade back into its sheath and untied Olena's gag.  "Hang in there, Lieutenant," she said, then turned to Angie and Gwen.

Angie had nearly finished releasing the doctor, but she kept stealing glances at Marta.

"Concentrate, Kipper!" Lyra barked.

"Oh, sorry," Angie muttered, and finished the task of unlacing Gwen's mitts.

"Hang in there," Olena quoted.  "Very funny, Middie."

Lyra's cheeks flushed reddish green.  "Sorry," she grinned, then turned back to Angie and Gwen.  "Help me."

Angie and Gwen rushed over and supported Olena's body as Lyra used her knife to sever the strands of the web, one-by-one.  They lowered Olena to the carpeted floor and began untying the remaining rope bands knotted around her limbs and torso.

"Are you okay?" Gwen asked.

"I'm fine," Olena answered.

"Oh, kiss her, already," Lyra chuckled.

"Lyra!" Angie gasped.

Olena glared at the smiling Orion Middie and opened her mouth for what would no doubt be a scathing dressing down—but before she could start, Gwen followed Lyra's advice.

Angie and Lyra watched as their senior officers shared a passionate and very wet kiss.

Lyra winked at Angie, and the Human's pink cheeks flushed crimson.  "Tree Frog!" she scolded.

Finally, Olena broke the kiss.  "Weapons!" she ordered.  "Arm yourselves."

"You rest," Gwen ordered.  "We'll see to it."

Turning so she could keep an eye on the closed flaps of the pavilion's entrance, Lyra folded back the flap of her holster and rested her hand on the grip of her hand-phaser.  "The Carmow will attack at dawn, with the strength of seven clans."

Olena nodded.  "So, either we escape, or we wait and support their attack from here."

Gwen carried over a hand-disruptor in a ruby-studded holster of green leather with matching belt.  "I don't think the former owner will object if your borrow her sidearm," she said, nodding at Marta.

Angie carried over an additional pair of holstered disruptors.  "There's a couple of disruptor rifles, as well."  Her gaze drifted to Marta's hogtied body, and she sighed.

"Kipper!" Lyra barked, snapping her fingers.

"Sorry," Angie whispered.  "I'll find something for us to eat and drink," she muttered and walked away.

"I'll look for something for us to wear," Gwen offered, and planted a quick kiss on Olena's lips.  "You," she ordered, pointing an imperious finger at her blond lover, "sit there and rest.  Doctor's orders."

"Yes, ma'am," Olena grinned, then nodded at the naked Andorian still bound in an upright, suspended spread-eagle on the far side of the tent.  "Maybe you better take care of the other pirate queen, first."

The others turned and gazed at Captain c'Echlat.  "The other pirate queen?" Lyra demanded.

"The Ruby Queen's captured rival," Olena explained, "according to what I overheard."

Gwen walked over to Chel, knelt, and examined the controls of of the null-gravity generator.  "If I'm reading this correctly..."  She tapped a series of buttons and the dildo retracted from Chel's vagina and the fluctuating hum of the levitating field stabilized.

"Thank you," Chel said, smiling at Gwen.

"Will you refrain from screaming and alerting the Syndicate pirates?" Gwen asked.  "Or would you like a gag?"

"Hmm... decisions, decisions," Chel chuckled.  "No, I'll be good.  Otherwise, you might not untie me."

"I have no intention of untying you," Gwen said. "Not immediately, anyway."  She wagged a warning finger in Chel's grinning face.  "Not a sound."

"Starfleet, guardians of the sector!" Chel chuckled as Gwen strolled away.

"Lieutenant," Lyra said as she took visual inventory of the red ropes still dangling from the pavilion's framework and piled in disordered heaps on the floor.  "Might I suggest you guard the door while I provide our hostess with a little more security?"

Olena smiled, pulled the disruptor from its holster and checked its power status (full charge) and setting (stun), and nodded.  "Be thorough," she ordered.
 Chapter 7

Chapter 6
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Chapter 8