In a random act of craziness, two heroes from completely different worlds swap places: one finds himself on Starship Mario, traveling to the far reaches of the universe. The other winds up in Hyrule Field, battling demons he knows nothing about, wit...
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Chapter 5
Sector 7-MA, 34 LY from the center of the Cold Core Galaxy | The Spelunker – Storage Level
Link threw up. Again.
This made the third time, so now Link was lying next to a vile-smelling puddle that was making this entire compartment stink like...whatever he'd last eaten. Star Bit soup and mashed potatoes, with a little bile on the side.
Still, worse than the stench was having to breathe it in for the past...Link didn't know. He didn't have a timepiece, but he estimated that he'd been curled up in this cramped room for at least two and a half hours, lying on his side in the fetal position between two boxes mysteriously marked "1-Ups, this side UP" and inhaling regurgitated stew, which only made him feel even more nauseated.
"Goddess help me," he groaned, rolling over onto his back. His stomach protested loudly, probably enough to cause an echo. If anyone had been around to hear it, Link probably would have died from embarrassment.
Fortunately, his hiding spot was some kind of storage compartment, a little-visited place on this...ship. At least, what he thought was a ship. He was finding that there were a lot of things he didn't know. And at this point, it was driving him a little insane.
After he'd bashed Charlie's head against the prison bars, knocking the toad out, Link had wrangled the keys from the toad's belt and freed himself, at last, from his prison cage. Pressing a button on the wall had opened the knob-less door, and beyond he'd found a dimly-lit metal corridor, with a ladder at the end leading up to a small landing. Beyond it had been another level, a hallway with blood-red carpeting.
After that...he didn't know. He'd snuck around, trying to find the exit door to the accursed dungeon, only to find the place more convoluted than the Lakebed Temple, something he never thought he'd say. Effectively, he'd gotten lost.
So he'd gone with Plan B: Get your weapons, find a hostage, blackmail your way out. Unfortunately, he hadn't found anything to arm himself with, his gear or otherwise. In fact, disturbingly, he'd been unable to find his effects: the Master Sword, the Hylian Shield, the Hero's Bow, his bombs, his Hawkeye, his Clawshot, the Gale Boomerang... Since his captors had changed his clothes, he'd assumed that they'd stashed the weapons somewhere close by, but if they had, he hadn't been able to find them.
And he'd searched — searched and searched and searched, ducking away from voices and checking rooms, compartments, storage cabinets when he'd stumbled across them. But he'd found less than nothing, and had felt disgustingly vulnerable as a result: weaponless. His memory might've been fragmented, but he remembered this much: he hadn't gone a day in the past six months without some kind of weapon weighing him down, making him drag his feet. When he used to unload at the end of the day, at last sliding his enormous packs off of his shoulders and from around his waist, he used to complain to Midna about the aches the weight had left behind.
