Cohost writing prompt: @make-up-a-starship-pilot — Starship pilot who carries a sword. Like, an actual, two foot long, honed steel sword.
"Clarke, I'm somewhat accustomed to the lunacy of Psionicans, but what the hell's that you're wearing?"
"You said dress uniform, Skipper."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Clarke. Duelling culture, fine, I've seen your drunk young bucks wave blades at each other outside the bars on the Rim before their pals talk them into an excuse to back down, but—"
"But the iconic Psionican duelling blade is a smart-matter bimorph?"
"Yes."
"Well, they weren't always invented."
"...How old is that?"
"Well, one of my great-great-grandparents wore it at Hadder's Gate—"
"The fuck. Shouldn't that be in a museum?"
"Museum? Peoples' stuff ends up in museums when some imperial force rolls over them and goes, oh, quaint, the weapons that lost to us." Clarke grins and rubs a thumb over a wear-polished pommel. "Didn't happen to the League of Telepath Worlds, now did it?"
"...You can't tell me that's as practical to carry as one of your collapsing swords."
"But you'll never see a drunk young buck look at this and try his loudmouth luck on, Skip!"