Dagon could neither show her to the nearest exit nor bring himself to lie to her. “I will take you where you need to go.”
Nodding, she motioned to Maarev with one of her weapons. “Knock him out first.”
Dagon’s eyebrows flew up. “You wish me to hit him?”
“Yes.”
Maarev swore foully in Segonian. “Couldn’t he just tie me up?” he asked in English.
“And leave you conscious so you can babble about my escape to anyone who happens by? I don’t think so.”
“Drek,” he grumbled. “Dagon’s fists are as hard as the gems on Promeii 7.”
A twinkle of amusement entered Eliana’s eyes. “Too bad.”
Maarev turned toward Dagon with a resigned scowl. “I don’t suppose you would consider faking it,” he muttered in Segonian.
Dagon shook his head. “Such would not win her trust.”
“Fine. Just do it.”
Dagon drew his fist back and slammed it into Maarev’s temple.
Maarev’s head snapped back. He stumbled drunkenly. Wavered. Then his eyes rolled around in their sockets, his eyelids closed, and his knees buckled.
Dagon caught him by the shoulders and eased him down to the floor. Straightening, he looked over at Eliana.
Her lips twitched. “That’s some punch you have there.”
He shrugged.
Her expression hardened. “Don’t try it on me.”
“I would never hit you,” he declared with a frown.
“Because you leave the torturing to your doctors and scientists?” Before he could respond, she motioned with the blaster. “Come closer.”
He took several steps toward her and halted.
“Closer,” she ordered. “And don’t do anything stupid. I tend to be trigger-happy when I’m tense and would hate to damage that pretty face of yours.”
She thought him attractive?
With a mental shake of his head, Dagon closed the distance between them and stopped a single stride away from her. Once again, he marveled over her diminutive size. The top of her head barely reached his armpit. And she wasn’t even half his weight.
She sent him a warning glare, appearing not at all intimidated by his towering height. “Don’t try anything funny.”
Though the translator indicated funny meant amusing, the context of her warning suggested otherwise.
“I won’t.”
With an awkward hop forward, she closed the distance between them and pressed the barrel of the blaster in her left hand against his ribs. He heard the other blaster clatter to the floor behind him. Then her right hand fisted in the back of his shirt and she leaned into his side.
A little tingle scuttled through him at the feel of her slight body pressed against his. Did she remember him now?
“Get me to the nearest exit,” she gritted.
No. She simply couldn’t walk without assistance.
Dagon curled his left arm around shoulders so thin he could easily feel the bones beneath the flesh.
“If your hand drifts near either gun, I’ll shoot you.”
“Understood.” He began to walk up the hallway.
Eliana limped along beside him, clinging desperately to the back of his shirt. Her breathing swiftly grew labored.
“Let me carry you,” he requested.
She shook her head. “I can make it. I’m stronger than I look.”
A great deal stronger, he thought with admiration. Raising his right shoulder, he tilted his head and tapped his earpiece twice. “Attention all personnel,” he said in Segonian. “This is Commander Dagon. Clear all forward hallways on Decks 3 and 4 immediately and keep them clear until further notice.” Again he tapped the earpiece twice.
Speakers broadcast an echo of his command all over the ship.
Eliana shoved the blaster harder into his ribs. “What did you do?”
“I cleared our path by diverting the crew elsewhere.”
She shook her head. “If you’re laying a trap or an ambush, you should know something.”
“What?”
Those captivating amber eyes rose and met his. “If I die, I’m taking you with me.”
He smiled down at her. “Drek, you’re appealing.”
Her brow furrowed. “Drek?”
“I believe you would call it a curse word.”
“Oh. Well, you’re pretty drekking appealing yourself, but that doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you.”
His smile broadened into a grin.
When they reached a lift, Dagon stopped.
“What’s this?” she asked, eyeing the interior suspiciously. “An elevator?”
He nodded. “We need to ascend to Deck 4.”
Eyes narrowing, she let him guide her inside. As soon as the door slid closed, she moved away from him and drew the second weapon. “Get in front of me.”
Dagon repositioned himself to shield her from the nonexistent ambush she expected.
The door slid open, revealing an empty hallway.
Eliana peered around him.
“See?” he said calmly. “No ambush.”
Brow furrowed, she returned the second weapon to the waist of her pants and gripped the back of his shirt once more.
Dagon slowly settled his arm around her shoulders as she leaned into him again.
It took longer than usual to cover the distance to the bridge, but he didn’t mind. He knew every movement caused Eliana pain and didn’t want to worsen that by urging her to hasten her steps. He wished she would just let him carry her but could understand her distrust.
He pressed his palm to the reader outside the bridge, then typed in a code. As soon as the door slid open, he guided Eliana inside.
Barus glanced over at him. “Commander on the…” He gaped.
The rest of the crew turned toward the door curiously. Their eyes widened. Their jaws dropped.
Beside him, Eliana stiffened. “Shit!”
Glaring at the men present, she removed the blaster from Dagon’s ribs and shoved the barrel under his chin with enough force to tilt his head up and to one side.
“Stay where you are!” she shouted. “If anyone moves, I’ll kill him.”
Every gaze shifted to Dagon. “Do as she says,” he ordered in English so she wouldn’t distrust him further.
Barus scowled. “What the drek is she doing?” he asked in Segonian.
“Speak English,” Dagon told him, using her language, “so she won’t think we’re plotting her demise. She doesn’t remember what happened.”
Barus studied Eliana’s tense, pallid features. “How much of it has she forgotten?”
“All of it. She thinks she has been captured by soldiers for hire on Earth.”
“On Earth?” she repeated. “This again? Where the hell else would I be?”
Dagon motioned to the stars beyond the window. “In what you refer to as deep space.”
She stopped scrutinizing every movement of his men long enough to follow his gaze. “What’s that?”
“It’s a window. Four months ago, you and some of your fellow Earthlings boarded a ship bound for Princess Amiriska’s homeworld of Lasara.”
She sent him a look that seemed to question his sanity. “Amiriska? You mean Ami? Seth’s adopted daughter?”