"Not here," he said. "If I'd captured you at sea, you'd be enjoying my brig."

He tore the belt free and tossed it aside, then loosened his grip on Q's jaw only to drag his palm down his throat.

The brig had been empty on the ship, but behind the iron grate were shackles bolted to the wall of the ship. It was dark, damp, and cold. Here, at least, it was dry and warm.