Escape II

John waited thirty tense minutes in his cell.

He had no restraints because he was supposed to be sleeping, but the freedom of movement felt strangely more constricting.

He felt antsy, wanting to prance around, ready at a moment's notice to bolt out or fight.

If the imp was right, it would take thirty minutes for the ship to land.

And, almost right on the dot, the imp was correct.

John had no watch, but his internal clock was pretty good, having only gotten sharper as a dragon, so he could tell how accurate the imp was.

About twenty-five minutes in, the ship began to rock and shake, finding some turbulence as the flying ship started to descend.

The metal walls around John rattled, but not nearly as much as a commercial airliner would have on account of how thick they were.

A sudden lurch of movement that made John's stomach feel weightless for a moment indicated that the ship had landed.

The whole process had taken about ten minutes.

"You think the crew is going to check up on us before they leave?" asked John in hushed dragon whispers that sounded like a low trill.

"Fat chance," said the imp. "They are a lazy lot, and they believe this Durite holding cell enough to secure us. In the whole week they had me, they checked on me a total of three times, routine cell cleanings not counted.

All three times for the captain to torture me.

But all of them will be eager to land and spend time in the settlement, tired as they are of traveling."

"Alright, then let's see if you're right," said John.

He waited with bared claws and tense muscles, hearing the faint thud of footsteps outside, the barking of orders he could not make out, some semblance of an argument that lasted a short minute, then, silence.

"How long do they spend out there?" asked John.

"Varies. Usually no less than an hour, though," said the imp. "It will take me about ten minutes to break this collar, and then five more minutes to infiltrate the Gravship."

"What about-," began John, but the imp held up a hand and smiled.

"Let me work, young dragon, and you shall see," said the imp. "For now, time to get back my tools."

The imp took in a deep breath, his pointed ears flattening as he tensed up his stomach.

"Okay, I'll look away from this one," said John, and he closed his eyes and twisted his head up, not at all wanting to see the imp take something out of his prison pocket.

A few seconds later, and John heard retching. Did it hurt that much to stick a hand up there!? He ever so slowly lifted up an eyelid to see what was going on.

The imp was doubled over, both hands on his stomach as it caved inwards. A small lump traveled slowly up from the stomach, then bulged visibly through the throat, then a brown leather pouch popped out of the imp's wide open mouth in a ball of steaming spit.

"Unpleasant," said the imp as he wiped his mouth. "But necessary. Thank you for giving me some privacy."

"Oh…so that's what you meant," said John.

The imp crouched down and shook off spittle from his bag before loosening the string drawing it tight. "Hm? What else did you think?"

"Nevermind. Just, uh, get your collar off and let's see what we can do," said John.

"Heh, on it, my friend," said the imp.

John looked curiously as the imp reached his entire arm inside the tiny bag and fished around for stuff. He scrutinized the bag to check its size again, and yeah, there was no doubt about it: the inside of the bag was much, much larger than the outside.

The bag, too, looked quite well crafted. John was no expert leathersmith and bagmaker, but even he could tell that, through the slimy spit layer, the bag was made of smooth brown and soft leather with zero imperfections on its surface.

A glowing, faintly blue light mark was imprinted on the bag, and it looked like three triangles stacked together to form a larger pyramid.

From the bag, through the not so pleasant smell of half digested chicken and stomach acids, John could pick out a strong strawberry scent. This bag was valuable. Very valuable.

"Ah, you appreciate my Bag of Holding," said the imp. "I have heard that dragons are masters of divining the worth of a treasure, and it seems it is so. But do not gawk at it too long, for, hm, let's see…"

The imp cocked his head and furrowed his pale blue skinned brows as he reached in deeper, finally finding what he was looking. "For I have found the key to my freedom!"

The imp pulled back his arm to reveal an icy white item that looked like a large pen. He held it deftly between his fingers and aimed its pointier end at his neck.

Magical energy flowed out of the goblin in a flickering blue aura, feeding into the pen, and a bright blue band of glowing energy streaked across its length, powering it.

A thin beam of frosty cyan emerged from the pen, and the imp carefully carved a line across his collar.

Where the beam touched, the metal froze, wisps of chilled air curling out from it. When a thick enough line had been frozen into the collar, the imp stopped channeling his magical energy, depowering the pen, and put it back in the bag.

The imp then gave the frozen part of his collar a quick chop, shattering it and freeing him. He stepped forwards, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck with a relaxed sigh.

"That's pretty cool. You're like the imp version of James Bond with those gadgets," said John.

"James Bond? What manner of dragon is he?" said the imp.

"Uh…forget about it. Anyways, nice job freeing yourself, but do you think that ice pen thing can manage to drill us out of here? The walls seem way too thick," said John.

"I have something else for that," said the imp. He took his Bag of Holding and placed it on his hip, and it stuck there by some magical force. He reached into the bag and then fished out a black gemstone that fit snugly into his palm.

The surface of the gemstone was cloudy and ever moving, as if it was made up of solidified smoke.

"Now let us see here…," The imp took the stone and hovered it above one of the dark grey metal walls as if it was some sort of metal detector. "Ah! Here is the access point!"

The imp stopped as the stone oscillated in his hand, and he let go. The stone latched onto the surface of the wall, and then its smoky surface cleared out, revealing a dozen different lines of complicated looking letters scribbled across it in glowing white script.

"What is that?" said John as he craned his neck forwards.

"Magiscript," said the imp. "Collections of inscribed Arcana that, when strung together, builds up the functions of most autonomous magical objects."

"Wow, so basically magical coding?" noted John.

"Coding? Yes, that would be a nice word for it," said the imp. "Is that what the dragons refer it to as?"

"Uh, guess you could say that" said John because technically he was a dragon, though maybe not representative of his whole species.

"This black stone is a Tracer, a Rare-grade item enchanted with the ability to see and manipulate any Magiscript," said the imp. "Very, very useful for breaking into sealed temple doors or disabling ancient guard statues and whatnot."

The imp used his finger to swipe at the surface of the stone like it was a smartphone, and the lines of sigils scrolled with the movement. He kept swiping and swiping until he happened upon a specific string of text. "Ah, here is the script for opening and closing this door."

With a double tap of his finger on the stone, the imp made the heavy metal door rumble and rattle. He unlatched the Tracer and kept it in his palm as the doors groaned and opened up.

John was ready to fight, body tense and low and ready to pounce, but as the door fully opened, he saw that the ship was completely empty. The lights were out and there were no windows, making the place quite dark, though his night vision saw through it.

The saucer-shaped ship was sizable, maybe thirty meters in diameter with one fourth of the circle's area closed off by metal doors.

The metal doors had no handles, indicating they probably slid to the side, and they looked like a strange fusion between fantasy and sci-fi design.

Sleek streaks of dull, glowing green light pulsing around the doors and across the metal of the ship made the place look futuristic, but the metal plating itself was thick, heavy, and crude looking.

"We must act quickly," said the imp as he rushed forwards, towards a series of chairs sitting atop of a triple panel of glass screens.

The cockpit or control panel, John presumed. "It will take me ten minutes to figure out this ship's scripts and hijack it. Watch the door, my friend, and soon, we will be truly free."

"You got it," said John as he stopped gawking at his surroundings and focused on the three sets of sliding doors on the other end of the room. He wondered when he would get used to the surprises and novelty of his new world.

The imp hopped on a chair on account of his small height and placed the Tracer stone on a smooth, circular rock raised atop a metal pillar.

The rock began to glow with various green sigils when the Tracer stone made contact with it, giving the imp access to what looked to be a keyboard for the ship.

"Engines operating at sub-optimal capacity. Fuel levels at 20%. Shielding systems broken. Left gravity engine half-broken. Scanning systems in need of tuning. Water filtration system half broken. Sewage system half broken…what is not broken on this piece of junk?" remarked the imp.

"Well whatever it is, we definitely are not in a spot to complain about it. Just get this thing off the ground," said John.

"Heh, wise words, my friend. Is it also true then that dragons provide wise counsel?" said the imp.

"Yes, and my wise and obvious counsel is that we should leave. Soon" said John, for he really did not want to stick around for three Mystic grade enemies to come barging through those doors.

"Of course. We are well on our way to freedom, my friend," said the imp as he pressed down on his Tracer rock a few more times, getting the ship to rumble and start, the engines underneath the floor whirring with large, creaking groans.