All a Crimefighter Could Want

Batwoman and Batgirl looked fearfully at the sky, their ears straining to hear the slightest sign of Flamebird’s fateful approach. Both had carefully examined the idling dune buggy, vainly looking for a way to shut off the potentially lethal light. Bound as they both were, however, that course of action was impossible.

“We’ve got to get free to warn Flamebird!” Batwoman insisted.

“The psychological dimensions of this trap are very impressive,” Batgirl remarked.

“What do you mean?” Batwoman asked. Batgirl’s comment had torn Batwoman from her fixated thought.

“What have you been thinking about since Britannia left us?”

“Saving Flamebird.”

“Right. Do you have any idea of how we might escape?”

“No. What about you?”

“I’ve been trying to think ahead. Let’s imagine we get free of these bonds. What will we do?”

“Warn off Flamebird.”

“Then what?”

Batwoman thought for a moment. “We’re in the middle of a mine field. I don’t know how we would escape it without being blown to pieces.”

“Exactly. If we spend too much energy worrying about Flamebird, we’ll never escape ourselves.”

“Okay,” Batwoman said. She began to reexamine their predicament, turning the problems their intended fate presented over in her mind.

Meanwhile, the room in which Britannia had left the Dynamic Duo to die had filled with steam. “The water is hot now, Batman.”

“Yes. I think the ropes binding us have expanded. I can barely move my hands.”

“I don’t think I have any circulation at all,” Robin said. ”I wish I had a steam neutralizing Bat-pellet handy.”

They writhed in their bonds and felt the bags in which they were suspended slosh through the bubbling brew. The line from which their terrible tea bags were suspended tautened.

“She’s considered our execution carefully, old chum. Not only is our circulation impaired, but she’s taken our equipment as well.”

“I know I’d have a hard time reaching anything, even if I were carrying something that would save us.”

“She must have overlooked something,” Batman said confidently. “Criminals always do.”

“What could it be?"

“I’m sure we’ll work it out,” Batman encouraged. Then he continued, “Eventually.”

Robin moved his shoulders and felt the bag respond. Glumly, he watched the ripples his movement had caused move toward the edge of the kettle and vanish in the steam that enveloped them.

“I’m getting tired, Batman.”

“It’s the hot water. It tires our muscles more quickly with every movement. You must stay awake, Robin. If we fall asleep in this sinister soup, we’ll be doomed for sure.”

“I’ll try to keep still and rest. Meanwhile, why don’t we talk this out and see if we can come up with a way to escape from this kettle together?”

“Good thinking!”

“The heat is slowly boiling the water, cooking us, stretching the bags we’re suspended in, and making the ropes that bind us expand.”

“Right. In addition to having been put in these bags, they positioned us on our knees.”

“I’ve got it, Batman! The kettle is hot! We can burn the ropes on the edge of the kettle!” Robin turned to look at his mentor, who was still deep in thought.

“Britannia has considered our fate carefully. Therefore, every aspect of it was reasoned. Nothing about this trap was prepared without a purpose,” Batman said.

“The question is, how do we get the ropes pressed against the edge of the kettle?” Robin said.

“Why are we kneeling?”

“It’s the only way we fit in the bags,” Robin suggested.

“That might be it,” Batman said tersely, “unless, it’s the only way we’d fit in the pot!”

“That means the solution–”

“Is to stand up!” the Dynamic Duo said simultaneously.

Pain shot through their lower bodies as Batman and Robin tried to straighten their legs. Both felt the canvas strain as their shoulders encountered the tops of the bags. They gritted their teeth and pushed upward.

“It’s no good!” Batman lamented. “The bags are holding fast.”

“There’s plenty of slack in the drawstrings now,” Robin pointed out. “Try to get to the edge of the kettle.”

“Right!” Together they followed the Boy Wonder’s advice and each jumped toward the nearest edge. A veil of steam separated the Dynamic Duo as they positioned themselves. They pressed their wrist bindings against the heated metal, and smoke slowly began to rise, first from the canvas and later from the rope.

“It’s working, Batman!”

They remained still until tiny flames licked at their bindings and their strength enabled them to tear their hands from their bonds. They flexed their fingers to restore circulation. Once they could move their hands, they tore at the charred bags and squirmed through the apertures.

Robin began to maneuver his ankle bindings against the hot kettle. Batman began to drag himself toward the spot Britannia had occupied just before she left them.

“Where are you going, Batman?”

“I think there is a faster way to get out of these baleful bindings.”

“I hope so. We have to get out of here before we scald to death.”

Batman toppled the cup from which Britannia had sipped her tea to the floor where it shattered. Less then a minute later, Batman bent over Robin with a shard of porcelain, with which he cut his partner free.

“Thanks, Batman. Let’s get out of here!” Then Robin looked around. “Uh, Batman? Where are we?"

“I don’t know, Robin, but Britannia mentioned a rendezvous at Ambergris Bay. Batwoman, Flamebird and Batgirl are in grave danger. We’ve got to get there as fast as we can!”

Fortunately for our heroes, Britannia had deemed the Batmobile too conspicuous to drive any further around town. It was waiting for the Dynamic Duo as they burst out of the tearoom.

“Look, Batman! It’s the Batmobile!”

“Our luck’s beginning to change,” Batman said, settling behind the wheel as Robin buckled his seat belt. “We’ll try to check in with our allies on the special Bat-frequency.”

High above Gotham City, Flamebird had been flying through the gathering gloom, looking for any sign of her Aunt Kathy, as well as calling Batwoman and monitoring different frequencies on her radio headset. All of a sudden, she glimpsed the faint shape of a bat on a cloud ahead and above her.

She checked her position. ‘That’s not coming from Police Headquarters. I’ll bet it’s from Batwoman! I’ll track it to its source.’ Flamebird was hurriedly flying toward the Bat-signal when she received Batman’s transmission.

“This is Flamebird, Batman. I’m responding to a Bat-signal in the sky. I think it’s from Batwoman. I’m afraid she’s in trouble.”

“I understand. Robin and I are headed toward that signal, too. We have reason to believe the signal’s point of origin is on Ambergris Bay. There’s no telling in what kind of danger Batwoman and Batgirl are.”

“Please, Flamebird,” Robin said. “Be careful.”

“I should be okay, guys,” she assured them. “I’m approaching from the air. I should be able to see what is waiting for me before I land.”

“Even so,” Robin said, “Britannia knows you use a Bat-Gyro. Be sure to take every precaution.”

“I will. I promise . . . and it’s very sweet of you to be concerned. Thank you, Robin. Over and out.”

Flamebird heard the warning words echo in her mind as she approached the tantalizing signal. Then she switched back to the frequency she and Batwoman used to communicate “Flamebird to Batwoman. I hope you can read me.”

For over an hour, Batgirl and Batwoman continued to struggle on the beach against their bonds. Suddenly, Batgirl exclaimed, “Yes! I’ve managed to pull a backup knife from my glove! I’ll have us free in a moment.” Batwoman turned toward her and saw the glint of moonlight on the blade.

Once they were free, Batwoman and Batgirl crouched between the stakes to which they had been bound. Then, in the darkness above them, they heard, over the breaking of the ocean waves, the sound they had been dreading.

“That must be Flamebird!” Batgirl cried. She began to desperately search for some way to warn off the teenager, when she noticed Batwoman smiling at her.

“It’s no problem now,” Batwoman explained. “I’ll just contact Flamebird on my wrist Bat-radio.”

Batgirl glared at the yellow-clad heroine.

“Well, I couldn’t reach it while we were tied up,” Batwoman sheepishly rationalized. She turned her wrist and pressed the button activating the device.

“Flamebird to Batwoman. I hope you can read me,” the younger heroine’s voice said.

Batwoman pressed the transmit button. “Flamebird, I read you.”

“Batwoman, it’s great to hear your voice! Are you shining that Bat-signal? I can’t quite see anyone down there yet.”

“Flamebird, it’s a trap! Britannia has mined the beach. If you land, we’ll all be blown up!”

“Roger. What about you? Are you going to be okay?”

“I have an idea,” Batgirl said. She leaned in towards Batwoman’s wrist. “Flamebird, this is Batgirl. Would you please ask Batman to pick Batwoman and me up in the Batboat tomorrow morning off the beach where this signal is shining?”

“Sure, Batgirl, although I’m not sure I quite understand.”

“Don’t worry, Flamebird,” Batwoman said. “Britannia was counting on you landing to set off her ordinance. As long as you stay away, we’re safe.”

“Sounds good, Batwoman,” Flamebird said. “Is there anything else I should do in the meantime?”

“Get some rest.”

“I’ll take care of everything. Over and out.”

“Over and out,” Batwoman said. She turned her attention to Batgirl and smiled. “Well, that’s that.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Batgirl warned.

“Can’t we just wait for the tide and swim out and over the mines?”

“Maybe. Let’s see what we’re up against,” Batgirl murmured. She took the Bat-light from her utility belt and handed it to Batwoman. As the brunette beauty held the light, Batgirl began to brush at the sand beside one of the stakes. Slowly, she uncovered one of the landmines.

“It’s definitely been activated,” Batwoman said.

“Yes, and not only will stepping on it initiate detonation, but it also has a motion detector.”

“So, when one goes off, they all go off,” Batwoman said fearfully.

“Right,” Batgirl said grimly. “If they all go off, you and I won’t have a chance.”

“We’ll have to dig,” Batwoman decided.

“Right.”

Batwoman and Batgirl began to dig a hole in the sand. They worked silently, shoveling handfuls of silicone into a circle inside the stakes that now marked the ground on which the heroines could safely move. The hole grew larger and deeper as more sand was removed. Beneath the dry granules spread across the beach, the sand was wet and much more firm. Batwoman and Batgirl wrenched two of the stakes from the ground to jab at the beach and loosen the moist sand. Steadily, the hole deepened.

“Do you think it’s deep enough?” Batwoman asked as she knelt in the hole, which resembling a shallow grave.

“It better be,” Batgirl said. “I’m exhausted.”

Batwoman tossed another handful of sand onto the pile. “We’ll find out after sunrise,” she said. Then she closed her eyes and surrendered to sleep. Batgirl already had.

A faint crunch reached Batgirl‘s ears and elicited a moan. She shifted her weight and had almost drifted back to sleep when Batwoman seized her arm. “What is it?” she asked, springing to her feet and looking around.

She saw Batwoman and crouched beside her, letting her gaze follow the other heroine’s extended arm. The Brunette Bombshell was pointing at a dark shape making its way silently out to sea in the pre-dawn twilight. “Constable Ferguson and three women went aboard fifteen minutes ago. Do you have any idea of how to keep them from getting away?”

“We have no choice but to let them go for now,” Batgirl said. She put on a pair of night goggles and scrutinized the boat through binoculars. “One woman is obviously Britannia. I wonder who her henchwomen are?” Gotham’s Gorgeous Guardian went on watching and inhaled. “Camilla and Sarah. I should have recognized them when they left us here last night. They must have done more of a number on me than I thought.”

“You know them?”

“They used to work for Max Chessman, an Englishman I’ve put away a couple of times. It seems Britannia is responsible for the bloodbath at the mansion Chessman was using.”

Batwoman shuddered. “Commissioner Gordon asked Flamebird and me to investigate the scene of that crime. By comparison, most historical massacres were like picnics.”

“It looks like they’re traveling exclusively under sail.”

“That will make it easier for us to catch up with them after we escape,” Batwoman said.

“When we do catch her, Britannia has a lot for which to answer.”

“Agreed.”

“The tide is coming in,” Batgirl said.

“Do you think it will set off the mines?”

“They’ll blow before the tide could possibly trigger them,” Batgirl answered. Before Batwoman could ask how she knew, the Purple-clad Paragon was climbing to the top of the sand bank she and Batwoman had built. She paused for a moment to make sure of her balance and leapt onto the dune buggy.

Batgirl let out a breath when she landed safely. She had guessed the presence of the vehicle meant it was not resting on any mines, but she had been afraid her landing would shift it and trigger their destruction. Keenly aware she was still alive, she clambered to the front seat, confident she would still be alive when she reached her objective.

“What are you doing?” Batwoman asked.

“Saving the Gotham City Bomb Squad the trouble of dealing with this fiendish mine field.”

Batgirl turned off the Bat-signal. “Okay. Here we go,” she said. “Batwoman, get down!” The Svelte Sentinel scrambled to the back of the dune buggy as it began to creep forward. Batgirl dove into the hole she and Batwoman had dug as it accelerated. She was still in midair when the beach was engulfed in a thundercloud of flying sand.

“Holy Armageddon!” Robin exclaimed, as he, Batman, and Flamebird skipped across Ambergris Bay on a course for Bruce Wayne’s beach house in the Batboat.

Flamebird’s eyes narrowed behind her goggles as she reached for a pair of binoculars and began to search the bay with them.

“For what are you looking, Flamebird?” Batman asked.

“Britannia! She’ll pay for killing them! I’ll chase that murderer to the ends of the Earth if I have to!”

“We’ll get her,” Batman said. He glanced at the girl and saw the stony expression on her face as she went on searching. He shook his head sadly, but said nothing else.

Robin, too, was silent. ‘Batgirl can’t be dead! . . . Can she?'

The getaway sailboat swung at anchor as the sand cloud engulfed the beach. “Your Most Royal Majesty,” Constable Ferguson said, “congratulations. You’ve done what none before you have accomplished – the deaths of Batgirl and Batwoman.” He began to laugh and the others joined him.

Britannia left her place leaning against the mast in her white slacks and matching sweater to move beside Ferguson. As her hair blew in the chill, morning breeze, she snapped her fingers and took the binoculars. She studied the scene as the sand settled and handed the binoculars back.

“Raise anchor and get under weigh. We’ll use the engines as well as the sails.”

“Yes, my Queen!” her Royal Handmaidens responded before moving off to obey.

Constable Ferguson watched the shore through the binoculars again. “There are the bodies bobbing in the tide,” he said, laughing and pointing at Batwoman and Batgirl.

Ferguson brought the binoculars back to his eyes. Suddenly, he stopped laughing. “How can that be? They’re moving against the waves!”

“Camilla and Sarah,” Britannia said as she watched the heroines, “take this fool below and clap him in irons.”

“What’s wrong?” Ferguson demanded as Camilla and Sarah obeyed. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Hey! That hurts!”

“How dare you ask Us what is wrong?” Britannia almost shouted as the hapless Ferguson was dragged below. “Batgirl and Batwoman were staked to the beach when We left them last night. The fact that you can see and recognize their bodies bobbing in the surf after that explosion does not mean that they are dead, but that they escaped! You have failed Us, and you have done so for the last time!”

Robin moved closer to Flamebird and noted her stony features. He might have backed off if he had not noted the way her shoulders were drooping and that she had locked her knees as she held her defiant stance. The boat shuddered as a wave slapped the side of it. Flamebird fell and Robin caught her. ”Don’t touch me!” She spun to face him, hardening her muscles as her anger flared. She saw the concerned look on the Boy Wonder’s face and froze. Her expression softened and she relaxed visibly. “I’m sorry, Robin. I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s okay. I understand. If anything ever happened to Batman, I don’t know what I’d–”

A rare smile curled Batman’s lips as he scanned near the shore. “Look!” he said to his companions. He pointed as the figures in the water pulled themselves toward them.

“They’re alive!” Robin exclaimed.

“You’re right, Robin!” Flamebird said, taking him in her arms and crushing him. “They’re alive!” She laughed delightedly as Robin’s arms encircled her.

The enraged, evil empress was still shouting at Ferguson as Camilla and Sarah shackled him to a bunk. A drone was audible in the background as Britannia inhaled, preparing to elaborate on Ferguson’s failure.

Sarah mounted the ladder leading to the deck and peered out. ”The Batboat is approaching them, Your Royal Majesty, with Batman, Robin and Flamebird aboard,” the luscious lookout reported.

Britannia could hardly blame Ferguson for Batman and Robin’s survival. “You’re a fortunate man, Ferguson!” Britannia said. “We won’t have time to repay you properly for your failure!”

“I don’t understand why You’re blaming me, Your Majesty–”

“They’ll be after us soon,” Camilla said.

“As soon as they’ve picked up Batgirl and Batwoman,” Sarah elaborated.

“Silence! Come with Us!” Britannia led her Royal Handmaidens forward. Moments later, they reappeared wearing wetsuits and air tanks. Camilla carried two cans of fuel, while Sarah held a briefcase.

“What are you going to do?” Ferguson asked apprehensively.

Britannia ignored him and began tuning the ship-to-ship radio.

“We’re preparing a warm reception for the bats,” Camilla explained.

“You’ll make magnificent bait,” Sarah said. She opened the briefcase and revealed an assortment of tubes and wires connected to a digital countdown display. “How much time?”

“The wind is with us. So it will take the bats a few extra minutes to get here, climb aboard, unlock the cabin, free Ferguson, and start coping with the other little surprises we have for them,” Camilla reasoned. “Give it between fifteen and twenty minutes.” As Camilla spoke, she straightened and Ferguson heard liquid spilling onto the deck beneath him and could smell blended oil and gasoline. As the puddle the accelerants made began to grow, the enticing evildoer retreated to the kitchen beside the ladder leading to the deck.

“That sounds about right. Our guests won’t be leaving, after all,” Sarah said, laughing.

“Very good, Captain Lords.” Britannia was concluding her transmission. “We will rendezvous with the Majestic at J. Pauline Spaghetti Island. Over and out.” Once the conversation had ended, Britannia turned to her Royal Handmaidens. “Finished?”

“Almost,” Camilla said, switching on the gas for the inboard stove.

Sarah activated the timer for the bomb, closed the briefcase, and locked it with two decisive clicks. Then she bent and kissed Constable Ferguson hard on the mouth. She straightened, snapping a combination lock on a chain running between the briefcase handle and the base of Ferguson’s bunk. “Now, we’re finished, and soon, so is he.”

“Excellent!” Britannia said, laughing delightedly. “Get on deck while We set up a Mayday to lure Our enemies into sharing his fate.”

“Hail Britannia!” the Royal Handmaidens said and ascended the ladder.

“Goodbye,” Britannia said, glancing over her shoulder and following her minions a moment later. She closed the hatch and locked it.

Constable Ferguson looked frantically around the cabin. The tinted hatch dimmed the light as the ticking bomb, the spilling of the liquid accelerants, and the hiss of the gas from the stove mingled to form a sinister chorus, inexorably building toward a mad, fiery climax.

On deck, the three divers put on flippers, sat on the gunwales, and fell back, plunging into the sea before rolling over and following Britannia in the direction of J. Pauline Spaghetti Island. The trio headed toward their rendezvous underwater, invisible from the surface.

“We’re getting a Mayday call from the sailboat now, Batman,” Robin said. He was seated beside the Caped Crusader with Batwoman, Batgirl, and Flamebird standing behind them, scanning the waters of the bay.

“It looks like someone is abandoning ship,” Batgirl said.

“If they’re abandoning ship, why send the Mayday?” Flamebird asked.

“We’ll find out soon,” Batwoman predicted.

“Almost there,” Batman said.

Batgirl climbed over the windshield of the Batboat and balanced on the bow. Batman brought the boats alongside and she leaped to the sailboat’s deck. Robin moved to follow her and felt Batman’s restraining hand on his shoulder. “Not this time, old chum. Help Batwoman and Flamebird locate the survivors. They may be injured.”

“Gosh, Batman. You’re right. I wonder what I was thinking.” He hurried astern to help the Distaff Duo spot the figures they had seen abandon ship.

Meanwhile, horror transformed Batgirl’s pretty face into a stern mask as she peered through the darkened hatch cover into the sailboat’s cabin. She could see Ferguson shackled to the bunk and viscous fluid adding to the puddle on the lower deck. The hatch was locked.

Batgirl bent over the hatch cover. It surrendered to a tiny tool from her belt. “Gas!” she murmured, straightening and smelling the colorless substance escaping through the aperture. She donned a breathing filter before slipping through the hatch and shutting off the stove.

“Batgirl,” Constable Ferguson said weakly as the heroine bent over him with her lock-picking tool. “There’s a bomb in this briefcase!”

The chain Sarah had threaded through the briefcase handle kept Batgirl from carrying it on deck to dispose of immediately. She bent and slid her lockpick into the combination lock.

“You may only have seconds, Batgirl. They want all of you to die while you try to free me,” Ferguson said.

Batgirl quickly turned her attention to the locks on the briefcase. In an instant she was manipulating the catches. The case fell open and a rapid beeping drew Batgirl’s attention to the double-digit countdown. The numbers were decreasing at an astounding pace.

She curled her gloved fingers around the bomb and pulled. Nothing happened. “Some days you just can’t get rid of a bomb,” she muttered darkly. Her eyes began to follow the paths of the wires leading from the bomb to the timer, flicking rapidly from wire to wire as her mind navigated the wires’ paths with the rapidity of a supercomputer until she found the one she was seeking.

The countdown reached a single digit as she reached for the wires, desperately hoping she had not make a fatal mistake which would trigger the explosion instantly. Her fingers tore the wires from the bomb.

Batgirl felt the tension drain from her sweat-drenched body. She collapsed on top of Constable Ferguson, as he closed his eyes and they drifted together into velvety unconsciousness.

Batgirl had no idea how much time had passed before Batman’s masked face was peering over her on the deck of the Batboat. “Are you all right, Batgirl?” he asked. “How do you feel?”

“Fumes from the fuel must have overwhelmed my filter mask. How is Ferguson?”

“He’s recovering. He was exposed to that foul air longer than you. I imagine he lasted longer because the gas was lighter than air. He’s very lucky you disarmed that bomb.”

She was beginning to feel more like herself and sat up. “I think we all are. Did you find any other clues on the boat?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not. We dropped the anchor, left the boat to let the gas and fumes dissipate and reported it to the Coast Guard.”

“What about the survivors who abandoned ship?”

“We didn’t find them either.”

“He’s trying to talk,” Flamebird called. “He’s asking for Batgirl.”

Batgirl sat up and slowly made her way to where the Constable was lying on the deck. “It’s me, Constable. What do you want to tell me?”

“Britannia,” he mumbled.

“What about Britannia?” she asked calmly, though she was bursting with excitement.

“Britannia and Captain Lords,” Constable Ferguson went on mumbling.

“What about Britannia and Captain Lords?”

“Majestic,” he said. The Constable’s voice seemed a trifle stronger, but he closed his eyes and fell asleep as the last word escaped his lips.

“What could he be talking about?” Flamebird asked. “What could be so majestic as to attract Britannia’s attention?”

“We’ll report all of this to Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara,” Batwoman decided. “They may have learned something else while we were at sea.”

“Good thinking,” Batgirl praised.

“Well, we managed to collect all of your abandoned vehicles,” Chief O’Hara said.

“Thank you, Chief,” Batwoman said.

“You're welcome. Unfortunately, we uncovered no sign of Britannia’s activities.”

“What happened to Constable Ferguson?” Flamebird asked.

“Batman and Robin took him to Mount Ararat Hospital. Between the two of them, they’ll watch him around the clock and report anything else useful he may say,” Batgirl reported. As the Dynamic Duo undertook this duty, the Bat-women met with Gotham City’s top law men in Commissioner Gordon’s office.

“What was it Constable Ferguson said to you, Batgirl?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“He mumbled something about Britannia and a Captain Lords.”

“He also said the word ‘majestic,’” Batwoman reminded her.

“I’m still not sure what all of that means,” Flamebird said, scowling.

“What could Constable Ferguson have been describing?” Chief O’Hara asked.

Batgirl snapped her gloved fingers. “He wasn’t describing something. He was identifying something!”

“I don’t understand,” the Commissioner said.

“’Majestic’ is a noun, not an adjective,” Batgirl said.

“Therefore, the Majestic is a vessel,” Batwoman said.

“That fits!” Flamebird exclaimed. “A ship! This whole case has been connected to the sea . . . and how does that song go? Britannia Rules the Waves?”

“I’ll confirm our theory,” Commissioner Gordon said, reaching for his telephone. “Bonnie, please get me Admiral Fangschleister.” The five crime fighters settled down to await the confirmation of Batgirl’s theory.

Three minutes later, Bonnie buzzed the Commissioner. “Admiral Fangschleister," Gordon announced, "you are on speaker phone with Batgirl, Batwoman, Flamebird, Chief O’Hara and me. We are interested in a vessel called the Majestic and her captain.”

“Let me check,” Admiral Fangschleister said. A glance from the officer sent his secretary’s fingers flying over the office computer keyboard. Presently, the information appeared onscreen and a nod from the Admiral brought a thick bundle of papers from the printer into his hands. “Captain Edward H. Lords commands the Majestic, Commissioner. She is scheduled to arrive in Gotham Harbor this morning and host an international gala event sponsored by the United World Organization.”

“Who will attend this event?” Batgirl asked.

“There are many honored guests, Batgirl. Queen Bess of Belgravia, King Boris of Moldavia, and the Maharajah of Nimpah are among the prominent people scheduled to attend.”

“Sounds like quite a gathering of royalty,” Flamebird observed.

“It is, Flamebird. Princess Sandra of the Principality of Molino, the Three-tailed Pasha of Panchagorum, exiled South American dictator Anthony Aquilla, and Prince Ibn Kereb of Gadelia will also be there.”

“A very impressive guest list for Captain Lords,” Batwoman remarked.

“In addition to the royalty, there will be prime ministers, legislators, ambassadors, and other high ranking government officials. I can have all of this information faxed to you, if you’d like,” Admiral Fangschleister offered.

“A perfect target for Britannia. She could kidnap any one of those rulers and demand a queen’s ransom,” Batwoman said.

“Which one do you think she is likely to choose?” Flamebird asked.

“I think we can ponder that question without the Admiral. Thank you, Admiral. If you’d send that information over, I’d appreciate it very much,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“Anytime. Is there anything else?”

“Do you have any information about the Majestic’s ports of call?” Batgirl asked.

“Let me see. She was commissioned in Londinium last year at about the time of the power outage here in Gotham City. Shortly after Captain Lords was assigned to her, she sailed for the Caribbean and has been proceeding along the North American coast holding these galas. It has, in fact, been unusually easy for the Navy to keep track of her.”

“Thank you again, Admiral. You’ve been an invaluable help. Goodbye.”

“Bon voyage,” Admiral Fangschleister said.

“I think we now know how Britannia crossed the Atlantic, and I’m afraid she has a much bolder scheme in mind than just kidnaping one foreign ruler,” Batgirl said.

“You don’t mean–” the horror-stricken Chief O’Hara began.

“She’ll steal the entire ship and kidnap everyone on it!” Commissioner Gordon concluded.

“The Joker once tried to steal the HMS Gotham for his henchwoman, Queenie,” Chief O’Hara recalled.

“That’s right,” the Commissioner confirmed, “and Joker, Riddler, Penguin, and Catwoman stole Commodore Schmidlapp’s yacht when they kidnaped him to obtain his Total Dehydrator.”

“Do you think Britannia could pull off a crime of that magnitude on her own?” Batwoman asked.

“I fear it’s a distinct possibility,” Commissioner Gordon said. “Once she gained control, with so many dignitaries on board as hostages, the military would be powerless to intervene.”

“If we’ve correctly guessed her plans,” Flamebird said, “we have to stop her.”

“Preventing the crime and catching her may prove to be two different things, Flamebird. Our first step should probably be getting on that ship,” Batgirl said. She began to pace the floor.

“I suggest we do so from a safe distance,” Batwoman said.

“Why?” Flamebird asked.

“Because Constable Ferguson was telling us about a rendezvous between Britannia and Captain Lords.”

“Batgirl said he inhaled a lot of that gas. Could Constable Ferguson have been delirious?” Flamebird said.

Batgirl stopped pacing across the office and spun to face her companions. “You mean, Captain Lords might be one of Britannia’s loyal subjects?!”

“I think we need to find out,” Batwoman declared.

“Right,” Batgirl said. “If we’re wrong, we might cause an international incident. To minimize that risk, I’ll check out the ship. You two back me up and keep an ear to the ground in case we’re wrong.”

“We’re with you, Batgirl,” Flamebird said.

“Will you be wanting me to take steps to protect Britannia’s royal, potential targets?”

“Leave their safety to us, Chief. You have the rest of the city to protect, if Britannia hits another target.”

“We’ll play it your way, Batgirl,” Commissioner Gordon said.

‘Thank you for your trust.” Batgirl turned to her sisters in crime fighting. “All right. Let’s go!”

Meanwhile, aboard the Majestic, Britannia finalized her plans with Captain Lords. “Your crew has pledged their loyalty to Us in accordance with Our commands, Captain?’ Britannia asked.

“Yes, my Queen. All who refused were discharged from my service. Fortunately, many of the men remain from your voyage across the Atlantic.”

Britannia held the Captain’s attention with a cold stare. “We are accustomed to taking sterner measures, Captain!”

“Please, Your Royal Majesty,” the Captain pleaded. “Do not be disappointed with Your humble servant. I must maintain the morale of Your loyal crew. Drawing and quartering those who disagreed would have shattered the discipline my crew has developed. It’s bad enough when they have contact with the shore.”

“We understand. The remainder of your men will obey your orders as you obey Our royal commands?”

“Indeed, my Queen.”

“How many men did you have to dismiss?”

“Not many.”

“We can order Our Royal Men at Arms to fill in and replenish your crew’s depleted ranks.”

“Your Royal Majesty is most generous.”

“Very well,” Britannia said. “We will inspect the preparations for the taking of prisoners. The United World Organization was most helpful in inviting them.” She began to laugh, but Captain Lords' face remained stern. “You do not find Our plan amusing, Captain?” Britannia asked, once her laughter had subsided.

“A thousand pardons, my Queen. Discipline demands I conceal my feelings most of the time. Your plan is splendid -- truly inspired. Shall we begin the Royal inspection?”

“By all means. Carry on.”

Shortly thereafter, the Batgirlcycle pulled to a stop barely within sight of the Majestic. Luckily, the ship was at the edge of Gotham Harbor, because Batgirl knew she would learn nothing by marching across the gangplank and confronting Captain Lords directly. She left her cape with her vehicle and slipped into the water silently and unobserved. She swam to the anchor chains hanging from the Majestic and climbed them with barely a sound to peer onto the deck.

A faint footstep heralded someone’s coming. Batgirl lowered her head, hanging suspended from the edge of the deck.

“They’ll start arriving about two hours before dinner,” Sarah said.

“I’m glad Britannia is happy with our preparations,” Camilla said.

“Will we take them all hostage during dinner?”

“Everyone but Ibn Kereb. Britannia decided he is too expensive to feed. He is so huge he uses scales to donate his weight in money to charity every year.”

“Britannia made a good decision,” Sarah said. “After all, the object of this exercise is to make money.” The henchwomen’s laughter trailed away as they left Batgirl’s range of hearing.

The Gorgeous Guardian of Gotham climbed silently over the rail and melted into a shadow before creeping after Camilla and Sarah. She followed them until a cry stopped her in her tracks.

“Halt! Who goes there?” A seaman stepped into Batgirl’s field of vision. “Wow! I hit the jackpot.” Batgirl’s eyes narrowed as the seaman’s tongue flicked over his lips. He stepped closer to her.

Batgirl’s fist slammed into the man’s chest, doubling him over as she stepped behind him, wrapping an arm around his throat. She straightened him as he gasped for breath and pressed against the blood vessels in his neck. Once he was limp in her arms, she lowered him to the deck and kept up the pressure for another full minute before satisfying herself he had been rendered unconscious.

She knew she would have to move to another part of the ship in case his cry had attracted attention she didn’t want. The sound behind her of a blade being drawn from its sheath told her it was too late! The razor edge of a blade touched the side of her neck.

“You will come to your feet very slowly, Batgirl. Then we will go see the Captain. Any move to resist will be fatal,” a quiet voice said. “I trust you understand?”

“Perfectly,” Batgirl replied, obeying.

“Very good. Move! You were wise not to nod.”

“You did not demand silence.”

The man laughed as he guided her to an enclosed bridge without removing his keen-edged cutlass from her throat. The seaman touched his hat to the Captain and reported. “I caught Batgirl creeping along the deck, sir. She was following the Queen’s Royal Handmaidens.”

“My Queen’s enemies are my enemies. Bring her in and shackle her,” Captain Lords ordered.

“You are to be congratulated, Captain,” Britannia said, once Batgirl was safely restrained. The evil empress wore a black, v-necked top, a red skirt, and held a garnished glass of orange juice in her hand. Batgirl could smell the vodka on her breath when the demented despot spoke. “Batgirl is quite a prize.”

“All right, Britannia. You’ve caught me. Now what?”

“We have found you guilty of treason against the Crown. The penalty is death.”

“You've already tried to kill me.”

“You will speak to your Queen respectfully!” the Captain ordered.

“I have no queen, Captain, and this woman is not your sovereign.”

Britannia set her drink down and brushed the strand of hair bisecting her face to one side. “How dare you, Batgirl! You will be punished for this before you die.” She turned toward the master of the Majestic. “Captain, send for Our handmaidens.”

“Pass the word for Her Majesty’s Royal Handmaidens,” Captain Lords ordered.

“Aye aye, sir.”

“Captain, are you going to sanction my murder?” Batgirl calmly asked.

She was relaxed. Batgirl knew her life might depend on the energy she could conserve. She decided her best survival strategy would be to keep Britannia and Captain Lords talking. She was also aware of the possibility they would slip and tell her something of their plans.

“I serve the will of my Queen,” Captain Lords said.

“You’ve had practice,” Batgirl said. “We know Britannia crossed the Atlantic on board the Majestic, but we don’t know where she disembarked before getting set up in Gotham City.”

Britannia spoke before the Captain had a chance to respond. “You will say nothing, Captain. Batgirl is fishing for information, and We do not want Our movements to be revealed.”

“We’ve also guessed your plans, Britannia.”

“In that case, Batgirl, we’ll have to see that you don’t stop them.” Britannia turned her attention to her nautical minion. “Captain, are your anchors suspended by ropes or by chains?”

“Chains, my Queen.”

“Excellent!” Britannia said, laughing. Batgirl’s gaze remained locked on the demented despot until Camilla and Sarah arrived. “Now, Batgirl, We will have your fabulous figure festooned upon the anchor winch."

Britannia’s attention swung to Lords. “We will see Batgirl wound into your anchor chains just tightly enough to restrain her. Do this immediately! Later, when the time is right, We will take in the spectacle of her crushing finish. We trust the media have been told of your dinner party this evening?”

“They have, my Queen,” Captain Lords said.

“Splendid.” The mad monarch addressed her Royal Handmaidens. “Remove this rodent from Our sight!”

Batgirl began to twist and thrash violently, but vainly, as Camilla and Sarah seized the heroine and dragged her away.

“You have done very well, Captain.” Britannia said. She began to pace up and down the deck of the bridge and consider the scenarios Batgirl’s capture made possible. “Batman, Robin, and their other lady friends remain at large. We might be able to use Batgirl to persuade them to surrender.”

“My Queen,” Captain Lords said, “Batman is no fool. He will likely regard his imperiled partner as I would a man overboard in battle.”

“You do not imagine Batman would race to a woman’s rescue?”

“Batman and his ilk will do whatever is necessary to save any ordinary citizen. Facing your plan of which Batgirl claims they are already aware, however, I would say it is unlikely they will bargain for Batgirl’s life. A rescue attempt would be more likely.”

“Thank you for your counsel, Captain. We will see if Gotham City’s vermin will negotiate for Batgirl. Our good Captain is probably right, however, so, We will hold Our hostage until Our guests have arrived.” Britannia grinned as her plans took shape in her mind. “Order Prince Ibn Kereb detained on some pretense. We want him to be the last of the arrivals.”

Captain Lords touched his hat. “Yes, Your Royal Majesty. I don’t think the gangplank will support the Prince’s weight. I was planning to bring him aboard using a net and a block and tackle.”

“We approve of the measure, Captain. Please inform Us when the Prince arrives. If Gotham City’s vermin refuse to do as We command, Prince Ibn Kereb will make a big splash for the media, just before they write his obituary.”

Britannia retired to change into more appropriate clothes and relax.

When Britannia was informed of the Prince's arrival, she, Camilla, and Sarah made their way to the bridge. “Put Us in touch with Commissioner Gordon’s office.”

“At once, Your Royal Majesty.”

Commissioner Gordon set down the phone warily. At the same time, Chief O’Hara entered the office and crossed to his superior’s desk. “Sir, Lieutenant Mooney has just reported the bomb squad has completed an inspection of Bruce Wayne’s beach house. It’s perfectly safe. I personally spoke to Mr. Wayne about it and he sent his congratulations, said he was glad no one was hurt, and promised to happily do whatever he could to help us out whenever he could.” Then he saw the look on his friend’s face. “What is it, Commissioner?” Chief O’Hara asked.

“One of my greatest nightmares has just come true, Chief. That was Britannia. That madwoman is holding Batgirl and has threatened to kill her unless Batman, Robin, Batwoman and Flamebird surrender unconditionally.”

“They won’t do it!”

“I know, but we must do our duty and inform them.”

“Sure and we do, Commissioner.”

The Commissioner toggled his intercom. “Bonnie, plese get me Batman at the Mount Ararat Hospital.”

A minute later Bonnie reported back. “Batman wasn’t there, sir, but I have Robin on the line. Should I put him through?”

“By all means,” Gordon said. The Commissioner explained the situation to the Twenty-something Titan.

“I’ll get in touch with Batman,” Robin said. “In light of this development, there’s no need for me to stay here to watch over Constable Ferguson. I’ll have Batman meet me in your office right away.”

Gordon then reached for the purple cell phone and tapped the button that would bring him into contact with Batwoman.

“Yes, Commissioner?”

“I have dire news, Distaff Duo,” he began to explain.

“We’re on our way, Commissioner Gordon,” Batwoman said.

“It’s utterly impossible, of course!” Batman fumed.

“Batgirl understands perfectly,” Batwoman agreed.

“That doesn’t make our decision any easier,” Robin complained.

Flamebird put a hand over Robin’s on the desk. “We know she’s on the ship. Can’t we do something?”

“Britannia didn’t give us time to organize a rescue,” Commissioner Gordon explained. “She’ll be calling for your answer in just a few minutes.”

“You know what I’d do to that devil woman if I had my hands on her,” Chief O’Hara said, his voice betraying the savagery of his feelings.

“Chief! You know I am violently opposed to police brutality,” the Commissioner said.

“Batgirl has proven her worth to Gotham City time and time again with her pluck and heroism,” Batman said. “I cannot stand by and do nothing while criminals threaten another human being, yet Batgirl would never forgive any of us for throwing out lives away for her sake.”

“We can’t give in to Britannia!” Robin said.

“Make no mistake. Britannia will not get away with murdering Batgirl,” Batwoman said.

Flamebird echoed the sentiment. “She’ll pay–”

The telephone interrupted the heroes’ thoughts. Batman lifted the receiver. “This is Batman.”

“You will put Us on speakers immediately.”

“We can all hear you, Britannia,” Commissioner Gordon said.

“We are displeased at the disrespectful manner with which you have chosen to address Us.”

“Get over it and state your business!” Chief O’Hara said.

“So, the Commissioner’s lap dog speaks for him. How quaint,” Britannia said. She laughed and took on a businesslike tone. “Very well. We require your answer!”

“No deal!” Commissioner Gordon said.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Britannia responded, filling her voice with insincere sweetness. “As you wish. We will execute Batgirl within the hour. As you consider her fate, you might switch on the local news to learn of another tragedy your complete and unconditional surrender might yet prevent,” she said before hanging up.

Commissioner Gordon crossed his office and switched on the television mounted unobtrusively in the wall.

“This is Alexander Knox reporting from Gotham Harbor where the famously philanthropic Prince Ibn Kereb of Gadelia hovers suspended over the water in a net. He was being brought aboard the HMS Majestic for an international gathering arranged by the United World Organization. A woman calling herself Britannia is reportedly holding the Prince and a number of other foreign dignitaries hostage and will announce her demands for their safe release over the air in just a moment, along with the identities of the rest of the hostages.”

“We’re ready, Alexander,” a newswoman told him.

“Thank you. I now have Britannia on the phone. Are all the luminaries on the ship in danger?”

“Mr. Knox, We, your Queen, Britannia, have gathered these ladies and gentlemen into Our care. We want the world to restore to the Crown the wealth stolen from Our Empire. Thus, each nation represented will remit five percent of their gross national product as tribute. We will contact them tomorrow morning for their answers.”

“Five percent of a nation’s gross national product is a lot of money, Britannia. Do you honestly expect to be taken seriously?”

“Our prisoners represent their so-called nations as We represent the Empire. These entities, which are in reality Our colonies, face the danger of losing these important government officials. Failure to obey Our commands will result in each of their executions as traitors to the Empire. We hope the members of their governments who are not currently Our guests will appreciate the seriousness of the situation.”

“So, would you characterize this danger you speak of as grave danger?”

“We know of no other kind, Mr. Knox.”

“Let’s turn to the issue of the method of payment. How will that be handled?”

“Our colonies will forward Our tribute to the Swiss bank account number We will provide when We contact them.”

“Do you have any other, err, proclamations you wish to make at this time?”

“Indeed We do, Mr. Knox. We would like to announce that Prince Ibn Kereb will be dropped into the sea at the turn of the next hour, unless Batman, Robin, Batwoman, and Flamebird surrender unconditionally to Us.”

“How will you get your tribute from Gadelia if you kill the Prince?”

“If your Caped Crusaders comply, We will set the Prince free. It's the least We can do for a fellow member of the nobility." There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Excuse Us for one moment, Mr. Knox.”

In Police Headquarters, Commissioner Gordon was spurring the wheels of justice into motion. “Thank you, Bonnie,” he said. “Lieutenant Mooney, I want you to see that representatives of all the effected nations, the national guard, and the FBI are kept apprised of the latest developments in this outrageous situation.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve reviewed the faxes Admiral Fangschleister sent. According to the Customs Service, Captain Lords brought munitions into this country. My people are reviewing security tapes from coastal harbors to see if we can learn where Britannia disembarked.”

"Keep up the good work, Lieutenant,” Chief O’Hara said.

“Now we know how Britannia got those mines with which she tried to kill you and Batgirl into the country,” Robin said to the Distaff Duo.

“That’s academic now. If we’re to rescue Prince Ibn Kereb, we haven’t a moment to lose,” Batman said.

“I thought we had decided not to make a deal with Britannia?” Flamebird questioned.

“Batgirl understands and accepts the risks we all take as crime fighters,” Batwoman explained.

“She wouldn’t want us to surrender to save her,” Robin said.

“The Prince is another matter entirely. At the same time, though, an attempt to rescue Batgirl is not out of the question,” Batman said. “To the Batmobile!”

“Hey, there’s something else coming in on the television!” Chief O’Hara said, as Batwoman and Flamebird reached the office double doors.

Alexander Knox was back on the screen. He had relocated from the dock onto the bridge of the Majestic. Britannia was standing at his side. “I now have the duty as a journalist to present the events we are about to witness live. Umm,” Knox paused, then cleared his throat. “Britannia will now describe what we are about to see.” He hesitated and cleared his throat again. “Go ahead, Britannia.”

The camera zoomed in on Britannia. “Thank you, Mr. Knox. As your audience can see, We have had a little extra anchor chain played out and then hauled back in to bind Batgirl against that winch,” Britannia said, pointing at Batgirl’s bound body. The camera pulled back to show Batgirl’s predicament to the viewing audience. The camera then zoomed in on the heroine. Britannia continued in a voice-over. “In just a moment, We will command Captain Lords to weigh anchor. As he does, the chain will wind around the winch and Batgirl’s beautiful, bound body will be slowly crushed for all the folks out there in TV Land to see. Batgirl has been found guilty of treason against the Crown and her sentence is about to be carried out.”

Alexander Knox’s voice cut in. “Ladies and gentlemen, we strongly urge not to allow young children to watch any more of this newscast! Viewer discretion is advised.

"Now, Britannia, aren’t you concerned about the public reaction to this so-called execution of one of Gotham City’s favorite citizens?”

“You, Mr. Knox, and the rest of Our subjects must understand Batgirl is a traitor and a terrorist. We, your Queen, have condemned her to death,” Britannia said. “You and your viewers have the privilege of seeing your Queen’s will carried out. Our subjects may have reservations about Our actions in this matter, but Our justice will be done, nevertheless. Captain, you way weigh anchor at your convenience.”

“Yes, my Queen,” Captain Lords said.

“So, just let me make sure I understand this,” Knox said, breaking into the unfolding sequence of events. “You are the Queen of Gotham City and you’ve condemned Batgirl to death?”

“We are the Queen of the world’s most mighty empire, Great Britain! Britannia rules! Our word is Law. We have declared Batgirl guilty of treason. The penalty for treason is death. You are merely observing the rightful carrying out of her sentence.”

“Weigh anchor, if you please,” the Captain bellowed.

“Aye aye, sir,” came the only possible reply.

Batgirl’s body began to turn on the winch, as Britannia; her Royal Handmaidens; the Captain, many crewmen from the Majestic; and the unblinking camera eye, broadcasting the spectacle to Alexander Knox’s audience, watched. Before the first rotation was complete, the sound of metal sliding against wood mingled with that of chains spilling from the winch. Batgirl slid free from her chains and shackles!

As her feet came to rest on the deck, Batgirl smiled. She spotted Camilla and Sarah approaching from opposite directions and laughed. She stepped toward Camilla and whirled into a purple blur of arms and legs.

Camilla felt her body pummeled by Batgirl’s boots. She doubled over and collapsed as Batgirl’s heel fell hard on the back of her neck.

Sarah lunged at the Danger Loving Dare Doll and felt her arm seized and her body pulled around and flung at the winch to which Batgirl had been bound. Her body bounced off of it and collided with an oncoming showgirl kick.

Batgirl grinned broadly at her fallen enemies as she let her gloved hands rest on her bent knees.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Britannia demanded, as Sarah collapsed on the deck. “Get her, Captain! We want her dead-NOW!”

“All hands, take Batgirl by any means necessary!” Captain Lords bellowed.

“Aye aye, sir!” many of the hands cried automatically. Many others simply attacked.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Batgirl has escaped her execution at the hands of Queen Britannia and has attacked her attackers!” Alexander Knox reported. “She is sending them flying in all directions across the deck and some have even flown over the side.” The camera switched back and forth from Knox to the action he was describing. “What do you have to say about this startling development, Britannia?”

“It’s impossible,” she replied, speaking more out of shock then in response to the reporter’s question. “How did she escape?”

“All of Gotham City is asking the same thing,” Alexander Knox declared, once he had left the bridge and made his way to the battling Batgirl. “Here comes Batgirl now. Let’s see if she’ll tell us. Batgirl, how did you escape from that fiendish deathtrap?”

“As you can see, Mr. Knox,” she started, smashing a seaman’s chin with a showgirl kick, “I’m rather busy at the moment, but I’ll do my best to explain. I’d been imprisoned in those chains all afternoon. As an apparently helpless captive, I had plenty of time to take my hacksaw blade from my utility belt and cut my way through the chains.” She sidestepped and pulled a seaman away from Knox, sending the combatant sprawling. She returned to Knox and went on, “Once the chains were cut, I just had to wait for the winch to be turned to have them fall away.”

“Thank you, Batgirl.” A man lunged at her. “I can see you have your hands full.“ She gripped another seaman, raised a knee into his face, and snapped his chin upward with her toe. Her hands caught him and spun him to the deck where he cut two onrushing seamen’s legs from beneath them.

“My pleasure, Mr. Knox,” Batgirl said. She felt herself seized from behind and spun, sending her attacker into the air.

Knox made his way to where Prince Ibn Kereb was still suspended in the net. Knox took the controls of the ship’s loading crane and swung the portly potentate from over the water to above the deck. “What are you doing, you madman!?” the Prince demanded.

“My name is Alexander Knox, Your Highness,” Knox explained, arching an eyebrow at his unintended pun. “I was wondering if you’d please answer a few questions for our viewers?” He raised his microphone for the Prince to respond.

“Just do not put me down! It looks very dangerous down there.”

“Yes, Your Highness. How does it feel to have been held captive by Britannia?”

“It is not physically uncomfortable, but I find it very similar emotionally to when I was robbed by Catwoman.”

“That sounds like quite an experience. Who do you imagine will win this fight?”

“Well, Batgirl started out strong and seemed to have taken Britannia’s people by surprise, but I thought the sheer number of Britannia’s forces would eventually wear her down. Now, I see she has some reinforcements coming. I think Batgirl will get . . . what do you Americans call it? Her second gale?”

“Her second wind, Your Highness.”

Robin drove the Batgirlcycle along the gangplank and skidded across the deck, sending it hurtling toward a crowd of seamen swarming on deck from below. At the same time, he launched punches at the two men closest to him.

“That was quite an entrance, Robin.” Robin pulled the punch he aimed at Alexander Knox a second before it connected. “What is your assessment of the situation?”

“Holy Battle Royal, Mr. Knox! Our primary concern is to prevent the hostages from getting hurt.” As he spoke, he executed a devastating combination that left another sailor moaning on the deck.

“Can you and Batgirl fight off this entire crew?”

“I’m glad we don’t have to find out. Here come Batwoman and Flamebird!”

Knox leaned against the breeze created by the Distaff Duo’s preferred mode of travel. Any commentary the reporter might have made was lost in the din.

The Bat-Gyros landed on the roof of the bridge. The lovely heroines they conveyed disengaged themselves from their crafts and literally leapt into the fray. Soon they were felling sailors right and left with devastating effectiveness.

“Flamebird, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a fight like this?” Alexander Knox asked.

“Winning,” Flamebird said, executing a maneuver that might have made the viewers at home wonder whether she was really a nice girl. Knox turned away.

“Batwoman, how do you see the situation?”

“It’s a matter of life and death.”

“Are you referring to the hostages, Batgirl’s earlier escape, or the danger you now face yourself?”

“Yes.” Knox frowned and returned his attention to Flamebird.

“Once these men are defeated, can I assume you will release the hostages?”

“The hostages are Batman’s responsibility, at least until this fight is over.”

Knox looked at her as she kicked another sailor and smiled as he crumpled. “But, where is the Batman?”

As Alexander Knox was contemplating the Caped Crusader’s whereabouts, Batman was scaling a Batrope close to the ship’s bow. He climbed on deck and made his way to the controls of the crane from which Prince Ibn Kereb’s net was suspended. Batman then lowered the corpulent Kereb gently into the Batboat.

Despite Batman’s efforts to remain inconspicuous, Alexander Knox spotted him and made his way to the controls where the Caped Crusader worked. “Where do you get all those wonderful toys, Batman?” Knox asked, indicating the Batboat.

“I develop most of my crime fighting gear myself in the Batcave, Mr. Knox. If you’ll excuse me, there are other hostages below deck.” Batman began to make his way toward the hatchways, punching opponents aside as they challenged his progress.

“Batman!” Queen Bess of Belgravia said as the Caped Crusader appeared in the dining room where Captain Lords’ stewards were entertaining the hostages with a fabulous meal.

“Honored guests, I must ask you to follow me.”

“Is something amiss?” the Maharajah of Nimpah asked. “A Nimpahnese gentleman, such as myself, would naturally hesitate to leave such a fine meal before the last course is served. It would not be well for us to offend our hostess.”

“Your Highness,” Batman said tersely, “this ship is central to an international kidnaping plot, which has targeted you and all of your companions.”

“Ah,” the Maharajah said, nodding. He and Batman both recalled how the Joker had used the Maharajah to try tarnishing Batman’s reputation.

“This is fantastic,” the Three-Tailed Pasha of Panchagorum said.

“No more fantastic, Your Three-Tailed Highness, than when the Mad Hatter impersonated you at Hattie Hatfield’s Headdress Ball six years ago,” Batman replied.

“If Batman says there is a kidnap plot, we must trust him. I have had experience with him before,” King Boris said. The Riddler had cleverly caused the King to plant a bomb in the Museum of Fame at the Torch Room of the Queen of Freedom Monument.

“Yes,” Anthony Aquilla agreed. “I owe Batman my life.” Batman and Robin had saved Aquilla from the Riddler’s medieval puzzle cage.

“I agree,” Queen Bess said, not wanting to be left out of the decision. Catwoman had stolen her famous dress, the Golden Fleece, which was made of spun gold.

“We will do as you say, Batman,” Princess Sandra decided. The Caped Crusader had tracked down Mr. Freeze for her after the icy villain had stolen her diamond necklace, the Ghiaccio Circolo, which means 'ice circle' in Italian.

“Thank you all,” Batman said. “Please follow me.”

As Batman led the rest of the hostages to safety, Camilla and Sarah recovered from the thrashing Batgirl had administered to them immediately upon her escape.

“Britannia’s plans have fallen apart,” Camilla said.

“Let’s get out of here,” Sarah said.

“Leaving Gotham Harbor might be a problem.”

“Not if we swim for the pleasure boats,” Sarah said. “We’ll let someone entertain us overnight on a nice, romantic cruise.”

“Good idea. Then we can have them drop us off at one of Max’s safehouses.”

As the dangerous duo spoke, they stripped to their swimsuits. Then they dove over the stern to swim away underwater.

Meanwhile, Robin, Batwoman, Flamebird, and Batgirl were looking around for crew members whom they had not yet beaten into submission.

“I think your resourcefulness may have well averted a crisis, Batgirl,” Batwoman said.

“I’m just glad everyone is safe,” Batgirl said. “Let’s go get Britannia.”

Alexander Knox moved to a position in a door to the bridge as Gotham’s Guardians entered the room.

“Having just had your crew defeated, Captain,” Knox began, “what are your plans following jail?”

“Get off my ship!” Captain Lords shouted. He had a great deal more to say, in terms that would have made a sailor blush. Knox hoped the censors back at the studio could “bleep” fast enough to keep up with the Captain.

Robin spotted Batman leading the foreign visitors to safety and quietly indicated them to Batwoman and Flamebird. Batgirl stepped close to Britannia, who had slipped a fur-lined white coat over her bare shoulders and lavender dress. “I’m afraid it’s all over, Britannia,” the Dark Angel of Gotham said gently.

Britannia cast her gaze at the defeated crewmen strewn across the deck. “The winners write history, Batgirl. We were correcting a historical wrong.”

“Maybe you can help people understand the history. I know of an Oxford professor of British history.”

“Victoria Stuart?”

“I think that’s her name. I promise to put you in touch with someone who will help you find her.”

“You’re very kind, Batgirl.” Britannia turned away and seemed to hunch her shoulders.

“I’ll take you whenever you’re ready.”

Britannia’s shoulders began to shake and the coat started to slide off her back.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Batgirl said sympathetically. She was about to take another step toward her captive when Britannia whirled, flung the coat over Batgirl’s head, and shoved the Caped Cutie to the deck at Alexander Knox’ feet!

Batgirl disengaged herself from the garment and saw an insane light glittering in the villainess’ eyes as she ran through the door, kicking her ornate sandals away as she ran. “Britannia rules the waves!” the mad, make-believe monarch cried as she vaulted to the deck rail and threw herself into the harbour.

“Britannia!” Batgirl cried as she reached the rail. Britannia had executed a beautiful head-first dive.

Batgirl was on the rail as the woman in the water surfaced, sputtering. “Help!” the Englishwoman screamed. “I can’t swim!”

‘That’s funny, thought Batgirl. ‘Then how did she get off that sailboat?’

“Do not worry, Batgirl. I will save her.”

Batgirl darted a glance at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. She realized the speaker was Prince Ibn Kereb, who was still seated in the Batboat. The Prince took the helm and guided the Batboat next to the floundering woman. Surprisingly strong, Kereb was able to reach over and pull the lady into the boat without difficulty.

“What were you thinking, Britannia?” the Svelte Sentinel demanded when she reached the Batboat. “Were you planning to swim across the Atlantic?”

“What are you talking about, young lady?” the wet woman demanded.

“Excuse me, Britannia–”

“Stop calling me that!”

Batgirl opened and closed her mouth. She finally managed to speak. “May I ask, then, just who you are?”

“I am Professor Victoria Stuart of Oxford.”

“What are you doing here, Professor?”

The woman looked around, bewildered. “I don’t know. Last thing I remember, I was reaching for a book high up on my bookshelf. It started to fall and . . .” The English academician’s voice trailed off.

“Batgirl, you caught her,” Lieutenant Mooney said. “Nice work.”

“Lieutenant, it is my pleasure to present Professor Victoria Stuart of Oxford.”

"What . . ?" Lieutenant Mooney quickly grasped the situation. She immediately took charge, giving orders to the uniformed police around her. “I want onlookers kept back. This ship is impounded as of now! The crew is to be arrested, read their rights, and processed. Escort Mr. Knox ashore and tell him and any of his colleagues that we’ll announce a press conference as soon as possible. There’s no need to detain Batgirl and the others. Britannia–” The scholar started to object again. “That is, Professor Stuart, will ride with me.”

Batwoman and Flamebird took off in their Bat-Gyros, while Batgirl sped off on her Batgirlcycle. As she drove away, her mind was already working out the problem of accounting for Barbara Gordon’s whereabouts the past few days.

Batman and Robin helped Prince Ibn Kereb from the Batboat, then sped to the pier where the Batmobile was parked. It was dark as they rode through town on their way back to the Batcave.

Suddenly . . .

“Batman,” Robin said, “I’m receiving something on the Bat Silent Alarm Detector!”

“What’s the source?”

“I think it’s from the Gotham City Natural History Museum.”

Batman tensed. “I saw in the newspaper that an exhibit featuring artifacts recently unearthed in the Canary Islands just opened there.”

“Gosh, the crooks certainly didn’t waste much time.”

“Stand by for an Emergency Bat Turn.”

At the museum, the Dynamic Duo Batclimbed to a window. They peered through to survey the scene of the apparent crime.

Beyond the glass, they spotted a pair of pretty, predatory perpetrators bent over shattered display cases, carefully packing away the priceless artifacts. Each woman was clad from shoulders to toes in black leather with a golden belt around her waist, accenting her shapely hips. One had blonde hair so pale it was nearly white. The other was also a blonde, but her curly hair was vaguely reddish. Both wore domino masks.

“Holy Double Vision, Batman. It’s Catwoman!” Robin exclaimed softly, turning toward his partner in crime fighting. “It looks like there are two of her! How? Even with that machine of hers, I don’t see how she could have more than one body in the same place at the same time.”

“I don’t know. She has never allowed an assistant to dress exactly as she does before. Batgirl has put Catwoman away twice since the last time we were in her criminal clutches. This could be something else entirely. Come on. Let’s peruse this problem from another vantage point.”

“Are they wannabes?” Robin asked as they continued Batclimbing.

“I have no more idea who they are than you do,” Batman whispered. The Dynamic Duo had made their way to a skylight and watched the crime to its conclusion. “Let’s find out.”

“Roger,” Robin replied. The Dynamic Duo leaped simultaneously into the air and crashed through the skylight, landing unscathed and ready for action on the glass-covered floor.

“All right, ladies! Hold it right there!” Batman ordered.

“At last,” the curly-haired blonde said dreamily. “Batman and Robin have arrived to thwart us.”

“Come and get us, guys. If you can.” They turned to face the new arrivals and laughed.

“At what could they be playing?” Robin wondered aloud, stepping forward. The ravishing robbers did not seem to be at all startled by the heroes sudden appearance.

“Easy, old chum. I don’t like the look of this.”

“We thought you’d like our outfits, Batman,” the pale haired blonde taunted. “You’re not afraid of a couple of girls, are you?” Both catwomen laughed.

“I didn’t realize Gotham’s original caped crime crushers were scared of anything,” the curly-haired blonde teased.

Robin took another step toward them. “You two are under arrest,” the Twentysomething Thunderbolt announced.

“Careful, Robin. This could be a trap.”

“A trap?” the pale blonde said, casting a wicked glance at her partner. “Would we do that?”

“Of course we would,” the curly haired blonde replied. “And we have. Time to spring it!”

Batman felt himself shoved hard into Robin from behind and toppled over with his partner. Instantly, the leather-clad blondes and their unseen confederate set upon them. Robin felt a strand of string looped around his ankle. He and Batman then felt themselves rolled roughly back and forth as the string was wound tightly around them. Batman and Robin were soon helplessly entwined in their kittenish captors’ sinister string. Batman felt binding cinched viciously against him and tied into a bow against his throat.

“Welcome to our cat’s cradle, boys,” the curly-haired kitten purred.

“Soon,” her companion added, “we’ll be putting you both to sleep for good.”

“Well done, ladies,” the voice of the Dynamic Duo’s other captor whispered from the shadows. “Remove their belts.”

Before obeying, the perfidious pair gazed gleefully at their trussed up trophies and laughed.

“Right, boss,” the pale blonde said, stepping toward the captives and nodding to her partner.

The first kitten bent over and unbuckled the belts, before handing them to her perfidious partner. “The utility belts, boss,” she said.

“I’m sure you’ll agree, Batman,” the whisper from the shadows said, “they make beautiful bait. Girls, bring them.”

As the shadowy figure turned away, the two women slammed Batman and Robin’s heads into the floor. The macabre maidens dragged the Dynamic Duo from the chamber. Neither Batman nor Robin resisted. They were unconscious.

Batman and Robin recovered to find their bodies suspended by the wrists from an overhead platform with more of the perfidious pair’s sinister string. Their cat-like captors peered down at them excitedly from the edge of the platform.

“They’re awake, boss,” the curly haired blonde announced.

“Excellent,” a robed, hooded figure whispered, stepping into view. “Welcome, Batman and Robin, we meet at last.”

“Who are you?” Robin asked.

“I’m not Catwoman,” the whisper replied. It was impossible for Robin to determine the figure’s identity or even its gender as it stood before them with its hood covering its head and casting a shadow over its face.

“I take it you aren’t the Penguin either,” Batman said.

“Very impressive, Batman,” the figure said without changing its tone. “You’re living up to your reputation this time. Would you care to tell me how you realized with whom you were dealing?”

“I recognized your assistants. The last time I saw them, they were calling themselves Snow White and Briar Rose.”

“Holy Repeat Performance!” Robin exclaimed. “They tried to kill us. We very nearly drowned tied to gigantic anchors.”

Robin recalled how the wicked weights had been lowered slowly toward the cold waters of the Gotham East River, threatening to drag their added ballast to the bottom. It had taken him and Batman a long time to start to swing the anchors from their overhead winches. This movement and careful maneuvering enabled them to bring the anchors to rest on the boathouse deck instead of in the dark waters of the river. Safe on dry land, they had rubbed their ropes and wrists raw, freeing themselves.

“How flattering,” the pale haired blonde formerly known as Snow White said. “He remembers us.”

“It won’t make much difference where they’re going,” the other blonde said with a laugh.

“What does she mean, Batman?” Robin asked, his voice quavering just slightly.

The woman who had been called Briar Rose pounced on Robin’s trepidation. “Is the little birdie afraid of how the kitties will play with him?” she asked with exaggerated sweetness.

“Too bad,” her partner purred. “Boy Wonder seemed to be growing into such a real man. It’s a shame to let it all go to waste. Oh, well.”

Robin saw the shapely shadow her prone body cast upon the floor in front of him shrug. He and Batman had found no trace of the villains who had tried to drown them – until now.

The anonymous gang leader was obviously about to explain how the next effort would proceed.

“We’ve suspended you at the top of an elevator shaft filled with a special blend of water, sand and fresh kitty litter,” the concealed criminal confided. “Observe.” The robes the hooded figure wore made it seem to glide toward them before a gloved hand playfully flicked a switch to activate stage footlights, which illuminated the top of their intended tomb. Next they saw their belts tossed onto the blended sand where they sank below the surface in a matter of seconds. “In a moment, I’ll order my pets to begin your slow journey into oblivion. I’m sure the Catwoman won’t object to my little homage.”

“I expect it to be as successful as all of her attempts on our lives,” Batman said.

“Right,” Robin agreed. “Her traps have always failed, just like your last one did.”

“I know,” the villain said. “That’s why I’m supervising your burial myself. All right, ladies, it’s time to throw out the trash.”

“With pleasure,” the pale blonde said, laughing delightedly.

“Bombs away,” her curly-haired companion chimed in, joining the merriment.

Suddenly, Batman and Robin felt the bindings around their wrists release. They were only falling for a couple of seconds before their legs plunged knee-deep into the sinister, sand-filled shaft. The two blondes tumbled from the platform above with controlled, slow grace. They landed on their feet and turned to face the doomed duo with smiles illuminating their lovely faces.

“Can we stay for the big finish, boss?” the curly haired blonde asked.

“Please?” her companion pleaded, seconding the motion.

“I’m sorry to have to remind you, pets, we still have the take from the robbery to catalogue,” their employer whispered. “Farewell, Batman and Robin. Forever.”

The leather clad blondes curtseyed formally before touching their fingertips to their lips to blow Batman and Robin a pair of parting kisses. Then they posed, turned on their heels, and followed their leader from the chamber. Their lower bodies swayed invitingly as they walked.

The click of the lock returned the prisoners’ attention to their predicament. Batman and Robin realized the sand had already begun to climb up their thighs.

“Holy Sinking Sensation, Batman! Those catwomen and their boss have executed their murderous plans for us purrrrfectly,” Robin remarked drily, shortly after the criminals had gone.

“Yes, Robin,” the Dark Knight agreed. “Our enemies seem to have been quite thorough.”

“They didn’t miss anything I’ve noticed,” the Titan agreed. He felt his knees sink further beneath the surface of the substance into which they were descending.

Batman stretched his arms toward the edge of the shaft in front of him and realized he would never reach the tantalizing safety of the floor. Suddenly, Batman had a realization. 'The only way we can survive is to work together!'

He twisted and verified he could reach the wall at the back of the shaft. “I have an idea. First, lean forward. While you're at it, see if you can locate our equipment.”

Robin obeyed, plunging his hands into the sand and litter mixture, fishing for the utility belts. “I can’t find our belts,” he reported, “and I also think we sink faster if we move around in this stuff!”

Batman lowered himself into a sitting position, with his back against the far wall of the shaft. Then he wrapped his hands around one thigh and lifted his leg free of the mixture beneath him. Next the Caped Crusader drew the thigh to his chest and repeated the procedure with his other leg.

“What are you doing, Batman? Now you’re waist deep. It’s only up to my thighs.”

“I needed the stability of the back wall to push against. How close are you to the floor in front of us?”

Robin leaned forward again and stretched his arms toward the goal. “About a foot.”

“Here you go, old chum,” Batman said. He began to push his partner forward with his legs while bracing his back against the back wall of the shaft. “Stretch, Robin!”

Robin felt himself inch closer to the edge. “Almost there, Batman. Just a little further.” Batman pushed again and Robin felt his hands hit the floor. “I got it!”

“Great work! Hang on while I climb close enough to grab the side myself.”

“Right.”

Batman used his partner’s shoulder to slowly draw himself forward.

“Almost . . .” Batman said, stretching.

“Batman,” Robin warned. “I’m losing my grip!”

“Hang on, Robin.”

“I’ll try, Batman. Hurry!”

As Batman moved a little further, Robin’s grip failed.

“Batman!” Robin cried.

“Easy, old friend. We still have a slim chance.”

“This stuff has enveloped my chest!”

Batman plunged his arms into the quicksand and gripped his partner’s hips. With a burst of almost super-human strength, he then lifted his former ward upward. Robin slapped the floor above them and moved his forearms, chest, and finally, a foot to safety. He pulled up his other leg and looked down at Batman. The Caped Crusader was neck deep in the faux catwomen’s sinister substance!

“I’ll get you, Batman!” Robin said, reaching for his partner’s outstretched hand. The Dynamic Duo’s hands were mere inches apart.

Batman craned his neck to be able to keep breathing. Robin pictured himself leaning over so far to save his partner that he pitched forward and landed on top of Batman, driving him below the surface. The senior crime fighter would then be seized with the insane need to survive possessed by all drowning victims. He would try to climb his would-be savior to the surface and kill them both in the process. Robin had to keep from being dragged back into the kittenish muck. “I’ve got a better idea, Batman!” Robin said. reaching for his own throat and unfastening his cape. “Grab my cape!”

The Caped Crusader took hold of the yellow material, then felt himself being pulled upward. Robin braced his feet and began to retreat, crouching to keep his center of gravity low. In less than a minute, Batman reached the side and was scrambling to safety. He stood while Robin put back on his cape.

Back at the Batmobile, Batman used his Bat-whiskbroom to brush most of the kitty litter from their costumes.

“So, we go after them?” Robin said.

“Yes, Robin. Last time, they were careful not to leave any trace of their identities. Now, however, we have this stuff to analyze.” Batman placed a sample of the quicksand in a test tube.

“Do you think it will tell us who they are?”

“Not in itself, perhaps, but it might lead to a more significant clue.”

“To the Batcave?”

“Right. Let’s go!”

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