Work Text:
"Oh dammit!" I hissed under my breath. The xenonite had slipped in my claw just as the glue dried, and now the two pieces were slightly misaligned. It was a tiny error, barely even noticeable, yet if I allowed it to remain, then each subsequent piece would be fractionally more misaligned than the last, and that one tiny error would soon be magnified a hundredfold. There was nothing for it; I'd have to take them apart and start again.
I trained my senses on Grace to see if he'd noticed my outburst, but he remained absorbed in his reading, curled up in a nest of blankets in a corner by the xenonite wall. His heartbeat was relaxed and steady, which made me feel calm too. It was nice seeing him finally able to relax a little.
I got up and stretched my legs, realising only now how stiff they felt from sitting in one position for so long as I worked. I made my way over to my station and started digging around until I found what I needed: a small plasma blade capable of melting the bonds between xenonite. I brought it back to where I was working, fired it up, and began separating the misbonded panels.
It only took a few seconds, but when I finished and set my work down, I realised Grace was now watching me with wide eyes.
"What's that?" he asked, pointing to the plasma blade. I brought it over to the barrier to show him.
"Is plasma blade. Is tool for separate xenonite if make mistake or want to reuse pieces," I explained. I fired it up, and the little blade of molten plasma ignited again with its characteristic humming sound. Grace's mouth was wide open; he looked absolutely astonished. "You no have this on Earth?"
"No, no definitely not." He swallowed and looked strange for a moment. "The erm, the blade part. Is that as long as you can make it?"
I trilled a curious note; what an odd question.
"On this tool, yes, is designed for small work. Could make bigger if redesign handle but why? Longer blade more cumbersome, less good."
Grace still had that strange expression on his face that I just couldn't figure out.
"Could you… could you make one for me?"
"Grace want own plasma blade?"
"Yeah!" He was weirdly excited. "With a longer blade on it?"
"Is dangerous," I warned. Plasma blades can cut through anything, including other Eridians; we don't give them to youngsters until they've completed numerous training courses. I'm not sure how I feel about handing one to Grace, especially with how weird he seems about it and how clumsy he can be. One of these could cut right through Mary's hull in an instant.
"I promise I'll be careful," he insisted, as though reading my mind.
"How long blade?" I asked.
"Erm, like, this long?" He held his hands apart slightly wider than his shoulders. "Maybe two and a half feet?"
I trilled loudly and pulled back in surprise. I've never seen anyone use a plasma blade that long even in industrial situations. I cannot imagine what he possibly wants it for.
"Why question?"
Grace looked embarrassed.
"If it's a problem, then don't worry about it; it's not important."
"Not problem, just confuse why Grace want?"
"I promise I'll show you later."
I hummed in agreement.
"OK, will make when finish current project."
"Thank you!"
***
"Grace?!" I call through the ship excitedly, and a second later I hear him making his way toward me where I'm waiting by the airlock in the dormitory.
"Yeah?" he asks, popping his head through the hatch.
"Plasma blade ready," I point to the airlock where it sits waiting for him to pull it into his environment. Grace's eyebrows shoot up, and he scrambles up through the hatch and pulls the drawer through impatiently before grabbing the little metal cylinder out and holding it in his hands.
"How does it work?" he asks.
"Press circle to ignite. Must keep pressure or will turn off. Make sure is pointed away and not close to anything. Please."
I rarely say please, but I still have qualms (a lot of qualms) about handing this to him, so I want him to take this seriously. I intentionally didn't include a lock feature on it that would keep the blade open and in place without the need to constantly keep pressure on the button. That way if when he drops it, the blade will instantly go out before it hits the floor, cuts a hole, and kills us both. I trust Grace with my life, but he can also be very clumsy and very stupid.
He moves into the centre of the room and puts his thumb on the circle, igniting the blade. He stares at it for a few seconds, moving it around in the air. Then he starts giggling wildly.
"Oh my God," he says. "Ten-year-old me is in AWE of me right now!"
He suddenly swings the blade wildly through the air, and I trill in alarm, jumping back even though I'm on the other side of the wall. Why did I think it was a good idea to hand Grace the one thing capable of easily cutting through xenonite?
Grace doesn't seem to notice; he now has both hands on the handle and is moving strangely, waving the blade around in arcs through the air. He looks over and grins at me; he looks so happy.
"Mary, play 'Battle of the Heroes' by John Williams on the dormitory audio system," he requests.
"Playing 'Battle of the Heroes' by John Williams from Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith," Mary responds.
Dramatic music starts blasting through the room, and Grace looks absolutely delighted as he swings the blade around.
"What Grace doing?" I ask, utterly baffled.
"My allegiance is to the Republic! To democracy!" he shouts back at me in a strange voice before dissolving into more giggles. I can only assume this is some weird human activity I haven't yet come across, although why it would be triggered by holding a plasma blade is beyond me. "You were the chosen one!" he continues. He almost sounds upset but is still giggling between words, like he is trying to make himself sound upset when he isn't. "It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!"
I have absolutely no idea what Grace is talking about; half the words he's saying aren't even in the translator, or if they are, they make no sense in the context he's using them.
Then it occurs to me. Grace is playing. I don't quite understand exactly what's going on, but I seem to have inadvertently made a human toy, and now Grace is playing with it. Acting out some imaginary situation in his head and having fun doing it. Humans must be very weird creatures indeed if their idea of toys for adults includes a terrifyingly dangerous plasma blade, but I think I already knew that.
Mercifully, Grace seems like he's getting tired, and he retracts the blade and carefully puts it down in the box where he keeps some of his special objects.
"This is so cool!" he enthuses. "Thank you!"
"Rocky still not understand what Grace was doing," I say. Grace stares at me for a moment, then slams his hand dramatically against his forehead.
"Have I seriously not introduced you to Star Wars yet?"
"No."
"Oh, we have a lot of movie nights coming up!" he grins.