Draconic Sphere Ω

Chapter 35: Chekhov Was Wounded In Battle

The post-battle jubilation was as raucous as it was short-lived. Verano had just managed to break open a barrel of celebratory beer (with his bare fist, just for show) when three mighty knocks sounded on the door.

Even through the door, the shouted order was clear. "You are surrounded by the Armed Forces of the Republic Of Aqua Profunda! By order of the Triumvirate, we demand your surrender!"

Wintergreen looked at Ezra, and exchanged a small nod. They strode outside.

The next half hour or so was tense and uncertain. Bob sneaked outside several times to report on the negotiations. At last, Wintergreen and Ezra returned.

"We have negotiated a conditional surrender," came Ezra's commanding voice. She presented a chit decorated with three prominent signatures. "There will be no mass punishment. Chekhov will take full responsibility for the incident and return the 'Draconic Sphere' which is considered to be government property. The rest of us will submit to arrest and questioning."

"But Chekhov is dead!" someone pointed out.

"The General has been informed that Chekhov was, indeed, wounded in battle," said Ezra pointedly, "and in a critical condition last we knew. It is most unfortunate that we were subsequently unable to save him. Does anyone have any questions about this?"

There was a general silence and a shaking of heads.

"Good," said Ezra.

*

"Chekhov was wounded in battle," said Brunhild, her voice heavy with grief. "He died, uh, during the surrender negotiations."

The officer turned to Dandelion, who was practicing handstands against the wall of their cell. "How did Chekhov die?" he demanded in a level voice.

"It was terrible!" Dandelion exclaimed with wide eyes. She dropped down from her handstand and sat on the floor. "Chekhov fought very bravely! Then he was wounded, and oh, it was so horrible! They were trying to save him, but he died during the surrender negotiations!"

"How did Chekhov die?" said the officer, addressing Kaergat.

"I will answer only in the presence of an appropriately-qualified lawyer," said Kaergat.

The officer nodded curtly. "And you?" he asked Lacrie.

"Um, ah, well, you see," said Lacrie. "Chekhov, he... he was wounded in battle! Yes! And he died, uh, during the surrender negotiations! That's the truth!"

"Very well," said the officer. He took some notes and moved onto the next cell.

Another city watch officer led a new prisoner into an adjacent cell, locked the door, and left.

The prisoner was wearing a grey robe and had striking, purple eyes. His eyes were such a vivid hue they almost seemed to glow. It took Dandelion a moment to recognise him.

"Melindan?" said Lacrie, incredulous.

Melindan looked pained. He closed his eyes for a long while. Then he sighed, opened his eyes, and faced his sister. "Lacrie."

Lacrie looked angry for a moment, then burst into tears. "I thought you were dead!" she said.

Melindan looked very awkward. "Sorry," he said in a small voice.

"I don't forgive you!" shouted Lacrie, suddenly angry again. "I'm not talking to you!" She pointedly faced away from him.

There was a long, tense silence.

"So," said Dandelion chirpily. "What are you in for?"

"Public indecency," said Melindan. "The dragon burnt off my clothes."