[ WP ] A moderately advanced spacefaring civilization makes first contact with a medieval fantasy world .

`` I just *ca n't believe* you use that thing, and have *no idea how it works*!'' 
 
 Izac looked discomfited, and in a defensive tone of voice, retorted `` Leave off, *Sven! * The wizards know, and that's all it takes, really! I take it to them to get it fixed when it breaks, and until then, I know how to use it!'' 
 
 `` What, the *fire wand*? Or the ghost carriage? Or how about your *Flying Shoes? *'' Sven teased, unrelentingly. 
 
 `` Yes, *yes* and *YES*, and if you want to see them work, especially the *first one*, just let me know, and I'll be sure to arrange a *demonstration*!'' 
 
 `` I'm wearing fire-proofed clothes, but thanks much the same.'' Sven continued giddily, teasing his adventuring mate. `` It just seems so silly, *is all*. To use something you do n't understand?'' 
 
 `` What, like your *autocar?! *'' Izac shot back, indicating with a jabbing finger the wheeled conrivance they were travelling in across the rolling hills of the wasteland. `` Like you really understand everything your engineers do?'' 
 
 `` Sure I do!'' Sven uttered glibly. `` Or *mostly*, anyway! It's all based on solid principles! Good, grounded-in-reality-science!'' 
 
 `` *Uh-huh. *'' 
 
 `` Of course! It's why we use our translator tools, rather than your'talking stones', anyway.'' 
 
 Izac, who remembered the trouble the talking stones had with synonyms, using them interchangeably at the worst of times, could only nod sullenly. 
 
 `` And anyway, that last band of techno-barbarians really took a lot out of me. Pass me a *heal*, would you?'' 
 
 Without looking, Izac passed him a glass vial. 
 
 `` *Blech! * Not one of those ridiculous frilly *health potions*, one of my stim-injectors!'' 
 
 Isac rolled his eyes, and dug into the back seat. 
 
 It was times like this that tried both people, he reflected. If it had n't been for the wealth of exploration that they both offered each other, and their surprising number of similarities, they might have gone to war once first contact had been achieved. Instead, things had gone, more or less, *swimmingly*. 
 
 `` Face it, Sven! We're the same!'' Sven scoffed. 
 
 Izac rolled his eyes and sighed. He looked out the window, and saw the yawning cavern, lined with stalactites like anglerfish teeth. It was surrounded by a crowd of silvery skeletons. `` We're here.'' 
 
 `` Fine. Do n't think this is *over*, though!'' Izac only grunted in reply. 
 
 As Izac advanced toward the cavern, his metal flying shoes shooting out jets of flame, lifting him into the air, and his fire-wand out, cracking like a whip, ejecting smoking shell casings like rain, Sven rolled himself out of the drivers-side door. He pressed one hand lovingly on the rune-encrusted surface of his autocar, as the other curled around the handle of his sword. The crystals glimmering brightly in the engine compartment. 
 
 `` We're the same?'' He laughed to himself, and shook his head `` *Riiiight. *'' 
 
 And with a hearty yell, he drew his blade, and *charged*. 
 
 THE END
