Well, this is my first ever tumblr post(Yay!), sorry if it goes a little wonky. Anyways! Found this blog a few hours ago and have been reading through it on and off. Hilarious, and I just could resist making my own little twisted and hopefully comical contribution. :D
So, we’ve seen the posts about fire, injuries, even the cleaner bot know as Stabby. Even a few about invasions and fights and the like. But what about recreational shooting? With modern-era firearms, not the super-quiet no-recoil sci-fi things everyone always thinks could be in the future. I mean, it seems like everyone enjoys a good ole giant gun going off. You just can’t help but grin! So, without further delay, here we go!
It was - insert unpronounceable alien name(Let’s just call said alien Zeb and for the sake of sanity, use the same gender pronouns as we do.) - Zeb’s first of his two recreational rotations for this cycle. After the long and boring time of this most recent cycle, Zeb figured he could go for a bit of excitement. After all, there was rarely anything to do during a lowly Level 2 patrol. Apparently the captain had… irritated someone higher up.
Shaking his head, Zeb banished those thoughts as the door to the on-ship shooting range opened with a soft hiss. Stepping inside, he checked in with the range master and headed to a free spot. Setting the case containing his personal grav-pulser onto the deck and removing the weapon, he soon fell into the comforting rhythm of shooting, all other worries being drowned by the various whines and hums of other shooter’s weapons.
A while later, during a short break as Zeb recharged his weapon’s power cells, he noticed one of the human members of the crew check in with the range master. Dismissing it after a moment, he went back to shooting. As he drained one power cell and went to smack another home, he felt a tap on his lower right shoulder. Pausing and glancing down at the human, he tried to recall the name of the figure before him.
“Ah, Human-James, may I assist you with something?”
“Nah, just wanted to make sure it was alright if I set up here,” the brown head-furred human replied, gesturing to the shooting bay beside Zeb’s.
“Certainly. I thank you for asking.”
“Thanks, not a problem.”
For a moment, Zeb watched as the strange little human placed two cases on the floor, one of which was almost as long as Human-James was tall! The short human then extracted a wood and metal contraption in the vague shape of a beam-rifle from the smaller case. Taking obvious care with it, he started to go through a series of checks that honestly left Zeb quite bored. Turning back to his shooting, he thought nothing more of the human he was now sharing the shooting range with.
Moments later, Zeb nearly dropped his grav-pulser as the human bellowed.
“EYES AND EARS!!”
In a moment of utter confusion, every single Chlivloit in the range turned to look at the lone human. That human looked back at them with just as much confusion.
“Eyes and ears?” he repeated, befuddled by the lack of response.
“Yes, our visual and audial organs are functioning properly, why do you ask?”
“Look, just… put the blast shield down on your stations for a moment if you don’t have safety glasses, and cover your ears.”
“Please? Just do it?” Human-James seemed to be getting increasingly agitated, Zeb noted, as he quickly followed the instructions.
Nodding in satisfaction as the rest of occupants do the same, curious about what was about to happen, Human-James put a small box into the bottom of the rifle-like thing before moving a large lever of polished metal in what seemed to be a very specific motion. Bringing the stock of the weapon up to his shoulder, Human-James took aim down the primitive optic sights. With barely any warning, the human squeezed the trigger of his weapon.
Ears ringing, Zeb thought his heart would leap out of his scaled chest both from fright and the invisible hammer that smashed into his body. Worse was when he saw Human-James’ upper body jolt from the apparent catastrophic failure of his weapon.
“WOOHOO!!” Human-James cried out, setting the thunderous weapon down and pumping both hands into the air. “Bullseye, baby! That’s what I like to see!”
“My… congratulations on your impressive marksmanship, Human-James. But why are you so happy, if I may ask? Your weapon failed, did it not?”
“Failed?” the human seemed genuinely confused. “Why would it have failed? This was my great-grandfather’s gun, and it’s been handed down ever since. My family has taken pride in keeping it in top shape.”
“Then why did it explode so violently, as it if it was a micro-nuke launcher, not some form of rifle?”
“Nah, it didn’t explode, it’s supposed to do that. This is a gun, not those fancy grav-thingies we tend to use now. Shoots a small piece of shaped copped-coated lead down a rifled barrel using the expanding gasses of a controlled explosion. It’s much more fun than those new ones. So much less… clinical.”
“Fun. You call nearly deafening yourself and removing your arm ‘fun’?”
“Oh, that was nothing. This is just a .30-06. You should see my .50 cal! Here, I’ll show you.”
And then Human-James pulls a “gun” almost as long as he is tall out of the other case before holding up two different size cylinder-shaped pieces of brass.
“This is a .30-06,” he said, pointing to the smaller of the two. It was about the size of Human-James’ second smallest finger. “This is a .50 cal,” he finished with a grin on his face. The larger of the two was bigger than the .30-06 by almost half in length, and more than twice as large in diameter.
“What is that?! A missile?!”
“Able to penetrate some forms of armor at decent range, or take out a target at the very edges of believability. Now people just use them for fun.”
“…I think I need to talk to the captain… The briefing on your species needs to be updated… again.”