“Why have you surrendered now?” the dragon asked in a smooth, masculine voice.

“I got them, all of them,” Sayth replied. “Sealveybreon, what you see are the memory chips from each of the miracle sylver weapons that assaulted First Drako. Far beyond anything thought possible from human technology, they cast the tide of battle most unexpectedly in the Alliance’s favor. True to sylver’s ability to replicate other forms of matter, the sixth weapon took my form to frame me. I was never there, as all the guardian dragons were called away by false distress signals. I spent the next eleven months hunting down every last one of the weapons. I’m sure your scientists will want a close examination of this data.”

Sealveybreon crossed his arms and wrapped mighty emerald wings around his body like a cloak. “You are Earth’s guardian dragon, entangled in loyalties to both Drako and your home planet. While extraordinary service of the past acts to your credit, I cannot allow you to roam free. You will stand trial on Second Drako for the crimes of conspiracy against dragonkind and apocalypse.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, something urgent came up, and I can’t spare the time.” Sayth phased his plane of existence just enough to pass through the crystalline shackles. They clanked harmlessly to the ground. He leaped back, sprouting a black dragon tail and six wings from his shoulder blades in a gust of air that pushed the guards off their feet.

Sayth motioned to assailing thunderheads on the horizon. “Did you think I chose to meet here because of the authentic cuisine? They’ll grill your steak with natural geo-electricity. There’s nothing like it. Perhaps with an imported Cabernet blend? No. This moon has deadly electrical storms; you’ve got about forty seconds to get out of the atmosphere.”

The guards looked to Sealveybreon, who begrudgingly signaled for them to board the falcon ship as dark clouds drew ever closer. It flapped aloft as gracefully as a real bird and soared into space. Sayth instructed Azalyske to assemble a Faraday cage. Sylver wiring formed a protective sphere around him.

“It’s the fox who rules the acorns in the autumn that gets the squirrels,” he said to himself.