Spike looked at the amazing sight of the moon hanging in front of him, wreathed around by the starry night sky, and accented with the blaze of a comet off to the side. It was awe-inspiring and he found himself content to take in the magnificent vista.
Then, in an instant, his attention was ripped from the wondrous view — *kshhrt* “Navigator to Claws, come in Claws. Do you read, over?” *kshhrt*
Spike grunted at the transmission before keying his radio — *kshrt* “This is Sp, er, Claws… I read you, over.” — Spike mentally kicked himself for nearly forgetting his handle, and why he was here in the first place.
*kshhrt* “You are nearing the objective. You should fire your maneuvering thrusters to rotate into an inverted position now, if you don’t you’ll risk colliding with the target without being able to grasp it.” *kshhert*
“Understood.” Spike replied, before realizing he had to key his radio — *kshhrt* “Wilco, Navigator, Claws out.” *kshhrt*
Reaching down to the controls on his suit he flipped himself over and looked at his new ‘up’ to see the target come within arm’s reach, its access port marking the point of no return.
He felt a rush of terror for an instant — he shouldn’t be doing this — before he worked his courage up and reached out to remove the cover from the access port, revealing a mass of thin golden wires. With his other claw he withdrew his wire-cutter from his space-suit’s pouch and tried to ignore the sudden cold sweat.
A deep breath and then he thrust the cutters forward, knowing that he was close to losing his nerve. The wires were difficult to cut, and for an instant he thought that the access port’s cover would fall shut and doom the operation, but finally after his hands began to ache from the constant cutting, it was finished… with a sigh of relief he keyed the radio and asked for the ship to retrieve him.
*kshhrt* “Navigator, this is Claws. Objective secure; reel me in. Out.” *kshhert*
As the tether pulled him to the ship the access port began to move, rotating slowly until it was eclipsed by the rest of the angry looking ship… it’s green viewports looking like eyes ready to blast him into his component atoms.
“No, no! It was all her idea, I swear!” Spike yelled pulling at the tether in terror-fueled desperation to extend his life for a few more seconds.
* * * * *
“I don’t even want to know.” Big Mac said, shaking his head at the scene before him: Applejack was cussin’ up a storm and threatening murder as she chased Applebloom and her friends who were passing what looked like a sheaf of blonde wheat back and forth, and Spike, wrapped in aluminum foil, dangled from the apple tree by a rope and clutched a pair of scissors in one claw.
“Nope. Not worth the trouble.” Big Macintosh said as he shook his head again, and made his way to the farmhouse.
“Bring the prisoner forward!” bellowed the Voice.
Obeying the prompting, the guards pushed the small purple dragon forward, and in a flash of magic he was manacled, shackled and, to all outside appearances, helpless before the Voicce.
“Into your cell!” the Voice bellowed, yet again the prisoner was compelled forward, his arms and legs bound together so he couldn’t move, and he was flung into the dungeon’s small and uncomfortable bed.
He should have realized this was what would happen for being caught. Daring to violate the sanctity of the alien world, one where their poor state of civilization failed to recognize the greatness of a dragon, was serious business with serious consequences.
He found himself struggling against his bonds, desperate to free himself and then escape the dungeon… but the Voice interrupted before he could bring his tremendous dragon strength to bear.
“Quit struggling!” it said, conjuring a magical bolt that stung enough to get his attention.
“Who?” Cried the Voice’s mocking servant, ever eager to mock Spike.
No, it wasn’t just the dungeon he needed to escape, it was the dungeon and its cruel taskmaster and the servant. But in order to do that he had to bide his time and wait for the Voice and its cruel servant to let their guard down… only then would he be able to make a move.
Waiting for hours, no… it was days! And watching for opportunity to knock, finally it did. It was when the Voice and her servant were interrogating some foolish passerby who had stumbled into their lair that was the prison.
So, while the Voice and Servant were occupied elsewhere, the Dragon flexed his mighty arms and kicked his strong legs, tearing the bindings away and shredding the blanket that covered him. Then carefully and quietly as he could manage he snuck around, eventually finding what appeared to be an exit.
As the dragon approached, he found that it was inaccessible, the tunnel leading to the middle of a cliff’s face with a dizzying drop to the ground.
For a moment the young dragon thought all was lost, until he remembered the shredded blankets from his cell, quickly retrieving them and tying them into a makeshift rope and anchoring it to a boulder just inside the cave tunnel’s mouth, he was out of the prison!
Running quickly so he wouldn’t be noticed, he planned how to make his way to the ship.
* * * * *
It wasn’t any noise that alerted Twilight Sparkle, but rather movement, that caught in the corner of her eye and drew her attention from Owlowiscious and the library patron to the window and the baby dragon’s escape.
“Get back here! You’re supposed to be taking a nap!” Twilight yelled at the retreating dragon, even as the wind caught the bed-sheet and it billowed out to cut off her sight of him.
“Who?” Owlowiscious asked, mocking her.
“Spike!” Twilight snapped back, before realizing that it was just an owl and he wasn’t really mocking her.
Author's Note
I needed a second 500-word story to hit the 1000-word story limit...