The Guv asked me to make sure and mention the...unique...nature of Slask's lightsaber in a story. Somehow, an attempt to fix my computer led me to write a whole vignette around it...
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Small Imperfections
Marissa looked up from her studies for the tenth time. Her Master was distracting her.
She felt certain that he was not intending to; deliberate distractions might be a valid teaching technique when it came to some things, but tonight she was reading, delving into some of the academics that her instructor had assigned.
Or rather, she was attempting too. Master Slask, seated at the dinner table, was fiddling with his lightsaber and hissing and muttering to himself. She could sense his irritation. It’d started out as a small tickle in the back of her mind, but after an hour of whatever he was doing, it filled her brain like a nasty fog.
Marissa almost asked what was bothering him so, but, also for the tenth time, she did not. She looked back to her history of Corellia. She was laying near the fireplace. The Padawan let the warmth, the pleasant crackle of the fire, lull her into mental isolation.
There was a bang and a sharp hiss from the dinner table. Marissa’s brief bubble of peace collapsed.
“Master…” She said, irritation in her voice.
“Mind your studies, Padawan!” The Trandoshan hissed.
Marissa frowned. There was a sudden flash of anger in her belly.
“I apologize.” Slask amended, quickly. His voice was once again calm.
Marissa’s frown deepened.
“Master, what’s wrong?” Had something happened?
“It is nothing. An annoyance. Do not concern yourself.” He answered, and looked back toward his saber. He snatched up tools, and once again, he began tinkering with the weapon.
Marissa looked back towards her datasheets. She read a few more paragraphs, absorbed some data on the relationship between the various races in the Corellian system. Another snarling curse reached her ears.
She sighed.
“Master, you’re distracting me.” She complained.
Slask turned his reptillian eyes toward her. He studied his Padawan, tools still gripped in his three-fingered hands. He placed his implements back on the table, and turned toward her.
“You’re aware of the nature of lightsaber crystals?” He asked. His voice bore his instructional tone, albeit with the same edge of irritation Marissa had been failing to ignore.
“Of course, Master.” She replied. Jedi Younglings were taught about the construction of their sabers long before they were allowed to build one. The focusing crystal gave the beam its color.
“You’re aware that my blade is unusual?”
She nodded. Slask’s lightsaber was shaped to fit a Trandoshan’s hand, of course, but more unusually, its energy blade glowed yellow when he activated it. Most Jedi ended up with blue or green blades. Weapons of different hues generally had a story behind them.
Marissa unconsciously pushed her datasheet away; She was hoping it was story time.
“The crystal it’s equipped with is unusual.” He admitted, claws tapping the table’s surface. “It has an extremely efficient focus. My saber uses even less energy than a standard one because of it.”
“Where did you get it, Master?”
“It was a gift from the High Queen of Zenkara, in gratitude for saving her life.” He said. “She was aware of its properties, and wished to present me with something I might find useful.”
“It’s a high insult in her culture to refuse a gift.” Slask explained. Jedi rarely accepted such gratuities.
“How did you save her life, Master?” Marissa asked, hopefully. Slask would occasionally share one of his adventures, and Marissa always enjoyed the tales.
Slask waved his hand.
“It’s a long, complicated story.” There was a tone of dismissal in his voice. Marissa sighed.
“When perfectly aligned, the blade shines a deep, most unusual green.” Slask continued.
“Why…”
“Why is it yellow most of the time?” He snarled. “Because ‘perfectly’ is not an exaggeration. The damned rock must be sitting exactly right, without a micrometer of variance. If it’s not in precisely the right spot, it’s yellow.”
“How is that…”
“The crystal is multifaceted. Many shades of blue and yellow. Mostly yellow. Combine them both, and you get the green I spoke of.” He plucked the lightsaber off the table and activated it. The fire had been providing most of the light; now the entire room was bathed in a beautiful deep emerald.
“Quite attractive, master.” Marissa admitted.
“Yes.” Said Slask. “However…”
He deactivated the weapon and rapped it, sharply, against the edge of the table. There was a hiss, then a low hum, as he turned it back on. The blade was back to its usual sunny shade.
“The slightest impact will throw off the alignment.” Slask explained. He shut down the blade, turned back to his tools.
“It still works right, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” The Trandoshan grumbled.
“Then why…”
“Because it’s supposed to be green.” Slash growled. He was already fiddling with the weapon again, the crescendo of irritation beginning anew.
“I…see, Master.” Marissa was grinning, amused enough now that his fretting didn’t seem so bad.
He fixed his reptillian gaze upon her and bared his teeth.
“Impudent child!” He barked.
Marissa laughed, first quietly, then with increasing fervor. Her master snarled, hissed, and turned back to his work.
The End
Topic: Small Imperfections (Read 2234 times)