HOMEWORLD: The Sword of Caaliburnous (She-Ra/Homeworld crossover)

5910 GSY
The Great Wasteland


Ajora winced as she sat in the medical bay of the Emperor's Finest and let Doctor Patajakil take a look at her chest. The old man had been born and raised on a Bentusi trading post - one of the relatively common Bent-anai that made up the rimward edge of the Empire's space born population. The only sign he had to show of it was a gold streak permanently dyed into his silvery hair, and a tendency towards circularity in the conversation, a tic that had been annoying half a year ago, then infuriating, then screamingly funny, and was now just a part of life aboard the carrier.

"Am I good for more duty?" Ajora asked.

"Do you feel good for more duty?" Patajakil asked, quietly.

"That's why I'm here, to find that out," Ajora said, flushing. She left out that her commander had ordered her to show up when, during their last trip to the gym, she had nearly passed out when Yin had kicked the pad she was holding for their martial arts practice. Yin hadn't even kicked that hard, Ajora had just...put too much of the weight against her chest, so when the pad was driven back against her...

She shook her head slightly.

"Have you discovered anything more about the...artifact?" Patajakil asked, curiously. He stepped to her side, taking her arm and lifting it up, then levering it down, then up, then down, then up, then down. The movement caused tiny flickers of pain along the inside of Ajora's chest - but far less than there used to be. She breathed evenly and looked forward, across the plain silver and white of the medical facility.

"I, um, tracked down the symbol on it."

Ajora frowned.

The memory that played through her mind was first waking up in bed after the painkillers had worn off and Bejik holding out to her the thing that had nearly killed her. He had filled her in on what the science team had uncovered: They had found a four thousand year old freighter, equipped with a sublight engine and a cheap short ranged hyperdrive that had broken down at some point during their flight. The six thousand people aboard had all died millennia ago and become barely recognizable desiccated husks in the grim twilight of their ship. Over time, asteroid impacts had jarred the cargo holds open and the debris had gently, slowly, drifted away from it - centimeter by centimeter, over those centuries...

And then it slammed right into you. I figure, since it didn't kill you, you won the fight.

Bejik had given her the sword and over the long months of recovery, she had studied it - first just...looking at it and thinking of the...

Dream?

Hallucination?

Her mind shied away from the word that it wanted to use. Was afraid of using.

Instead, she focused on the sword. It was approximately a hundred centimeters long, weighed in at one kilo. It didn't seem enough to have almost killed her, and yet...

The blade was black. Made of some meteoritic composite that should have shattered on impact with her cockpit. Apparently, it had hit at just the right angle, with her at just the right velocity, leading with the tip, going up against one of the slightly weak seals between segments of the carapace glass. A string of just the worst luck in the galaxy, and it had ended up not even managing to kill her.

When she could walk, she had tried using it in the gym against a training dummy. It didn't slice through it in a single strike - but holding it still felt...electric. Heavy. She was aware of every single bit of history she held, even if thousands of years of that history was just a stillness in space. It had made her feel heavy and as if her head was spinning and she needed to sit down. That was the first time that Patajakil had given her a lecture about overstressing herself.

But the thing that had drawn her eye was the symbol on the hilt.

The winged icon.

It had seemed so familiar, but she...

She hadn't recognized it.

"And?"

Ajora realized she had been frowning and thinking for several moments. Dr. Patajakil was sliding a scanner over her ribs, frowning as he looked from her wrapped breasts to his readout. HIs brow knitted. "This wound is healing reasonably well. But..." He frowned. "Are you not taking your injections?"

"No, I am," Ajora said.

"Well, it's healing a bit slower than I'd expect," he said, hurmphing softly. "You must be less metabolically inclined to accepting this kind of regen fixture. I'll tweak it for next month." The ship shuddered underfoot - a course correction. One that wasn't expected. Ajora ignored it for the moment. "Now, the sword?"

"Right! The symbol on it. It's Hiigaran Imperial," Ajora said, then laughed. "It's four thousand years old and its still trying to kill Taiidani."

"Is it now?" Dr. Patajakil said, quietly.

Ajora's wrist com crackled. "Lieutenant, report to the bridge, we need you up here."

Ajora frowned. Her chest twinged. "Where, uh, where is my uniform?" Ajora asked.

"Where did you leave it last?" Patajakil asked, softly.

Ajora felt some of the old annoyance come back.

Stepping onto the bridge, Ajora felt the normal feeling of dizzying dislocation. There was so much noise - the soft murmuring of dozens of communication specialists, the hum and chatter of the computers, the quiet ping of the sensor scope that took up the center of the deck. She saw Bejik and Wing Commander Loona standing beside the sensor station, with Commodore Hajiak. The dark skinned Taiidani man was part of House Kosikili.098, one of the minor offshoots of the Kosikili family - so minor that they needed to be denoted by numeral rather than an actual earned name. The fact he was a carrier commander proved his dedication.

He still scared Ajora more than he comforted her. His eyes were the dead and pitiless eyes of some deep sea predator, and his clean cut, shaven features were perpetually fixed in a faint scowl. Ajora came to attention before him. "Commodore," she said, trying to not squeak.

"You ever dealt with Turani before, Lieutenant Eytapea?" Commodore Hajiak asked.

Ajora felt like it was a punch to the stomach. She had worked so hard to just be Ajora here. But still, she managed to say: "Once or twice, I've, uh...spoken with some, sir."

"Well, the Entant-Captain that we're trying to wrangle into this is being a mule about the job," Hajiak said, his palms going to the sensor station, then throwing up a quick map of local star clusters. There was a large warning indicator around a white dwarf star within a few light years - indicating alerts about hyperspace jumping. Ajora opened her mouth to ask and then closed it in a hurry as Hajiak pointed at it. "That's the Kharak system. Ever heard of it?"

"...no, sir," Ajora said, slowly.

"They call it the Great Barrier out here. Ships that hyperspace from any point along this cube vanish. It's centered on Kharak." He breathed a sigh. "There's been demands that we investigate it, but...we're far off the Outer Rim Trade routes. And it never bothered the Bentusi none, so..." He shook his head. "But recently, signals intelligence has been picking up mumblings from the Kharak system and the Emperor wants to check it out."

"Respectfully, sir, why are we talking to the Turani then?" Ajora asked. "They're...reasonable mercenaries when well paid, but-"

"I am not risking this carrier group on the Kharak anomaly, Lieutenant," Commodore Hajik growled. "Now. The Entant-Captain is demanding to speak with a noble of proper rank, and to be paid up front for his endeavor. You will take a corvette of your choice to the meeting location. Pick a team to go with. Dismissed."

---
What do you do?
[ ] You go and pick your ship and support!
[ ] "Sir, respectfully, Turanic ships are more likely to be lost to this anomaly. We've got the best chance - and can fabricate probes for long range surveillance."
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