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File: OP Image 3.png (7.49 MB, 3000x3000)
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Your name is David "Gunny" Rockefeller, no relation.
A veteran of the united states marine corps, you find yourself in a far-out situation after an all-too-close encounter of the third kind!

In the last thread you returned to Xebric station and found it absolutely riddled with issues, including pirates, resource scarcity and the deactivation of many of the station's Nanofabricators.
But you didn't return from Earth empty-handed. Now armed with all of earth's knowledge and a few good ol' boys who you'd happily trust your back to, you're feeling pretty good about it.

Right now, your main concern is the bug infestation which has caused a food shortage on the station. With thousands of people to feed, it's something that needs taking care of immediately.

The pirates who had been pecking at your dying station like a flock of vultures were almost immediately handled by one all-out volley from the Metal Gear, which left you with quite a few prisoners.
Two hundred more mouths to feed is nothing to laugh at. Ordinarily you aren't big on slavery, but for a bunch of pirates who are lower than dirt, it makes sense for them to pay off their debts.

So after about half a week of training, you separated the wheat from the chaff and formed about twenty teams of ten to go on a bug-hunt.
It's only a temporary solution, but if you can bring back some good live samples for Doctor Lyna, she might be able to devise an effective poison for them.

That's why you'll be going personally as well, to ensure you get the samples you're looking for.
You had planned to go with just yourself and SHODAN, but after hearing about what was happening, Pickle and Redbone signed themselves up as well.

Well, with the three of them by your side, you're sure you won't encounter any issues.

...Or will you?
Find out this time, on Humanity Fuck Yeah!

>Last Thread: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2024/6019065/
>All Threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=humanity+-+fuck+yeah%21
>Google Doc: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1rNxD6ccWY5M48dLWuTWdr5LiYLuS_YIAMKlTLw42eeo/edit#gid=0
>Discord Link: https://discord.gg/PYJ7Aa3zQF
>>
>>6052775

Your name... is not 'David "Gunny" Rockefeller'. Your name is Ronnie. Or just 'Ron' to your friends.
And somehow, don't ask how, but somehow, you've ended up as the leader of the 21st New Xebric Pirate Raiders.

Which is actually just a group of ten men, who are as far as you can tell, completely randomly selected from a dozen different pirate groups.
You only know one of the men in your group, Kazzek, and unfortunately he's not very fond of you.

You aren't sure how long it's been exactly, but probably about half a week ago the ship you were serving on was badly damaged, along with many others.
Nobody knows exactly what happened even now, but everyone who survived was imprisoned after that.

The station you're on is shockingly cold, and it looks like it's been torn apart by heavy machinery in places.
It's also very, very empty. Something feels odd about it.

The day after you'd been imprisoned, a man who you've come to know as the station administrator came to visit your cell.
He faced you all alone without a hint of fear in his eyes, as if the thought of being attacked or killed hadn't even been a consideration.

And he almost immediately showed you why that was.

As soon as he opened the cell door, one of the others immediately tried to attack him and escape. You don't blame him, you might have done the same.
Gods, you're so glad that you didn't. That could have been a mistake that ended your life.

The Administrator, who you now know is called 'David', didn't even move.
He simply thrust his fist out from where he was standing, and yet the impact was enough to stop this pirate captain in his tracks.

And then, as if to finish him, the Administrator kicked the man in his stomach so hard that he was lifted into the air, and knocked over three other people as he was flung into them.

He was strong. Certainly so.
Small but extremely muscular, it was clear that he must be an apex predator from some death world.

You'd never seen one of his kind before, but that's nothing unusual out on the rim, where many of the galaxy's dregs gather.
Still, you were certain that he couldn't possibly take on all of you. There must be fifteen or twenty men gathered in this cell, so as the others whispered to eachother, you made a suggestion.

"Maybe if we all work together?"

"Shut the fuck up, Ronnie." Kazzek immediately replies, shutting you down.

Well, so much for that.
It's pointless to try and overwhelm him if no-one's willing to help.

The administrator dragged one man out of the cell and left the rest of you.
You didn't see him again until the next day, which is when you found out what would be happening to you all.

"These are explosive collars." The administrator explained, as if it were nothing to worry about.

He went over their surveillance functions in great detail, and even demonstrated their stunning ability.
It was clear that he wasn't planning on letting you go.

One by one, he placed those collars on each and every one of you.
>>
>>6052794
>it was clear that he must be an apex predator from some death world.
>meanwhile, humans beings on the weaker side of the primates let alone other animal classifications

Also; fuckin' Ronnie.
>>
>>6052794
Ronnie is my spirit animal now, we must have more of him before his painful demise by bugs
>>
>>6052923
technically we were, and are the apex predator, just not because of our strength. Endurance is what allowed humanity to conquer, and tool usage propelled us to domination
>>
>>6053051
Yes, but, from what Ronnie and the others saw all they know is we are strong as fuck. Which is what makes it humorous to me.
>>
>>6052794

After that, it was like he didn't care what you did anymore.
He simply let all of you out of the cells, and had you line up outside the bounty office.

From there, you walked down the ruined streets, through a tunnel and into the station's industrial district.
You had thought that maybe you'd be loaded up onto a transport ship to be sold as slaves, but apparently not.

At the center of that district, there's a tall tower stretching all the way up to the next level. That was where he was leading you.

On the inside, it had the appearance of an office building.
You all filed in one by one to get out of the cold. Thankfully it was much, much warmer inside.

Malix, the man the administrator had taken earlier, ordered you all onto the elevator.
Only one of them was in working condition, so it took a while for you all to get to the top, six or eight people at a time.

You were one of the last to make the ride up, and when you finally got to where you were going, what you saw surprised you.
It was almost like the surface of some urbworld, with paved streets, sidewalks and... dead grass. But there had been grass, at some point. Isn't that insane?

Grass, on a station. There are even a couple of trees here or there.
And more than anything, it's kinda warm up here.

"Everyone, follow me." Malix ordered. "We're headed to the campground."

Campground?
You weren't sure what he meant by that. You'd never been camping before.

...As it turns out, it simply means you're going to be sleeping in a field.

When you arrived at the "campground" it turned out to be a public park, with a large pile of supplies and equipment sitting on pallets, waiting to be set up.
Malix opened one of the crates in the pile and tipped it over, dumping out dozens of log-like packets of fabric, each with a bundle of metal rods taped to it.

"These will be our homes for the time being. Watch carefully, i'm going to show you how to set these up."

This part took hours and hours. The whole rest of the day, basically.
Tents... you hate tents so much. They were kind of hard to set up by yourself, so you ended up going around and helping others with theirs.

If you hadn't, then it probably never would have gotten done.

In the end, they were just little domes made of fabric, but... after spending a couple of days shoulder to shoulder with so many other men, it was nice to have some privacy.
And it was a little warmer inside the tent, too. That's good. You like being warm.

It wasn't warm in the jail cells.

After all the tents were set up, you were so tired, you just wanted to rest for the night.
But the sound of banging metal urged you to get up again.

Those who didn't started to get warning beeps from their collars, but only one man who'd already fallen asleep actually got shocked.

The banging sound turned out to be the administrator, who was banging a ladle against a metal cooking pan.
Ah, that's right... it'd been over twenty hours since you last ate, hadn't it?
>>
>>6053466
>inb4 our slave gruel is miles ahead of anything they've ever eaten
>>
>>6053511
>it tastes like shit
>wait it TASTES?!
>>
>>6053511
slaves, soldiers or whoever, the way to get their loyalty is through their stomachs
>>
Even something vaguely chicken noodle soup-like would be mindblowing. Wait until they experience the joy of MSG and chicken salt.
>>
>>6053466

The administrator waited for everyone to gather around, then gave a quick statement about how a bunch of insects had raided the station's hydroponics bay, leading to a food shortage.
You don't really remember what he had said though, because there was a delicious smell hanging in the air that had completely distracted you, and quite a few others.

You still don't know what exactly was in it, but when he lifted the lid off that giant pot and gave it a stir, the whole area was overwhelmed by the smell of meat and vegetables.

You expected to get a nutrient bar if you were lucky. It's what they'd given to tide you over while you were in the jail cells.
But this, it was something else. Something you'd never had before.

"Sorry, but since there ain't much to eat and i gotta feed two hundred of you bastards, the meals are gonna be a little light."

"Wha... what is it?" Someone asked.

"It smells amazing..." Someone else growled, licking their lips.

"Hamburger soup." The administrator replied. "Although there's not a whole lot of hamburger meat in it this time around, it's plenty hearty and should keep you alive."

If not for the threat of an electric shock, he might have been swarmed by hungry prisoners right then and there.
A couple of guys got zapped for fighting over their place in line. Everyone wanted a bowl.

About halfway through, you finally got yours. The administrator personally ladled out two big scoops of soup for you.
It had a deep red broth, which smelled tangy, and sweet, and savory all at once.

The ceramic bowl was quickly heating up in your hands, so you took it over to a row of folding tables that had been set up before you arrived.
Many people had already sat down to eat, but you were still worried someone would steal your food from you.

You used your spoon to pick through the soup. There were little yellow blobs, mushy green things, other mushy green things... and brown chunks of something hard.
There was also oil floating on top. Synth oil you guessed, to bolster the calories in such a small bowl of food. That was what you thought.

You couldn't recognize any of it, but you didn't have much choice, and it smelled delicious anyways, so... you blew on the spoon to cool it off and took a bite.

The flavor was quite literally indescribable.
There was a distinct and almost overwhelmingly powerful taste of vegetables, but you'd never tasted anything like it before.

There were many different textures. Something crunchy, something mushy, something chewy... and the broth was incredibly rich and thick on it's own, like it had been mixed with milk.

But the chewy stuff was what got your attention. That flavor, it couldn't possibly be, could it?
It was. Not in a form you recognized, but this soup had actual meat in it.

That must be what made the broth so rich, surely.

Why would he give meat to a bunch of slaved, though? During a food shortage, at that?
Now you were worried that this might end up being your last meal.
>>
>>6054404
>Now you were worried that this might end up being your last meal.
that's why you give the good (desu, mediocre in our standards) meals back when they return
>>
I can only imagine how this scene would've played out if David was a british commando instead of a U.S. marine.
>Awroight we got ya bread'n'beens, wiv'uh slice'a buttah annuh spought've tea.
Even the ayyyys eat better than British rationing hours.
>>
>>6054426
For as bad as British cuisine got during the blitz, their mastery of pastries and savory foods is still second to none. It's not all beans on toast and jellied eels.
>>
>>6054426 #
Can you imagine what British cuisine was like before they got to the orient? They wouldn't even have had tea...
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toast_sandwich

I'm starting to suspect that it's not that the British were in the habit of starving their prisoners of war to death, but that it was a voluntary choice the POWs chose over the alternative
>>
>>6054492
Just wait until you've had the experience of a freshly baked pumpkin scone, sliced and buttered. They're so good. So good.
>>
>>6054404

Apparently you weren't the only one who was put off by the administrator's generosity.

"What the hell is this?!" A man at the next table over yelled.

Those sitting around him looked to him, confused.

"What? What's going on?"

"There's meat in this! Look!" He yells, pointing to the brown chunks in his spoon.

"Yeah? That's good, ain't it?" Someone replies, sounding annoyed.

"Think about it, dumbasses! Where the hell did they get meat on a station like this! And have you ever tasted meat like this before?!"

There's a pause in conversation as people look between eachother.

"It's not rodent meat, it's not synth fish, it's not even teraphid meat! You tell me, have you ever eaten anything that tastes like that?!"

"I haven't..."

"Me either, actually..."

The people had started to whisper.
And they were whispering things that made you look down into your own bowl with a mix of fear and disgust.

"He said it himself, didn't he?! There's a food shortage on this station! So what do you think we're eating? It's people, man! We're eating other sentients!"

You heard several forks drop, and at least a few people start to retch.
At the same time though, at least one guy was less perturbed.

He turned to his buddy and asked...

"Was there a sentient species that tasted this good...?"

"What the fuck, man."

"I mean, it's not really cannibalism. I'm just saying."

"Dude. Dude."

"What! Fuck you man, i'm hungry."

About this time, the administrator, who was still dishing out food, finally stepped in.
He projected his voice across the entire dining area, so that everyone could hear him over the clamor.

"I hear you all talking shit over there! What, is my cooking not good enough for you ungrateful bastards?"

All attention immediately turned to him.
Some of the folks who had already begun eating looked pissed.

"What kind of meat is this?!" One demands.

"Are you feeding us the flesh of sentients?!" Another yells.

The administrator grinned widely, flashing his teeth at you all.
You know some predators do that as a social gesture, and normally it doesn't bother you, but... coming from him, for some reason, it makes you uneasy.

"And so what if i am?" He asks. "What the fuck are you gonna do about it? Go ahead, nobody's forcing you to eat. But when you start to starve, i bet you'll change your mind in a hurry."

>There was no way you could eat this stuff if it really had... people... in it. You'd rather go hungry than do something like that.
>...He was right. It didn't matter what was in the food, you had to eat whatever he gave you in order to survive, and so you did.
>You don't know if he was telling the truth or not, but you didn't want to chance it. You ended up picking out the bits of meat and giving them to someone else.
>Write-In?
>>
>>6055000
>Throw in your vocal support for the administrator, maybe you'll get something out of it. If nothing else, you can probably convince the cowards to give you their meat. Fuck 'em! You're not going to get shocked over them being retarded.
>>
>>6055004
+1
Ronnie sounds like the guy to actually act, even if not always in the smartest way
>>
>>6055004
>Throw in your vocal support for the administrator, maybe you'll get something out of it. If nothing else, you can probably convince the cowards to give you their meat. Fuck 'em! You're not going to get shocked over them being retarded.

RONNIE'S LOGIC: if this were actual sentient meat, the slaves would have been turned into food, not being fed this. Although it is puzzling that he considers this as a food shortage meal
>>
>>6055004
+1
>>
>>6055004
+1
For better or worse, Ronnie is unaffected by Bystander Syndrome.
>>
>>6055210
>For better or worse, Ronnie is unaffected by Bystander Syndrome.
Even in the void of space, autism will find you.
>>
>>6055000
>>6055004
Ronnie ronnie he's our man, if he doesnt survive nobody can!
>>
>>6055416
Shit, man, spoilers!
*muffled laughter*
>>
>>6055000

"You sick bastard!" Someone yells.

Another man threw his bowl in the administrator's direction, missing him entirely.
He immediately got shocked for it, hard. He collapsed, convulsing, until finally the collar let him go.

But the whole crowd was still pissed.
Until you slammed your spoon down on the table, hard enough to make the silverware jump.

"That's ENOUGH!" You yelled, standing up.

All eyes turned from the administrator over to you.
Even the administrator himself, who had already started walking back to his stew pot, spared you a glance.

You aren't sure what made you do this. It was even more unclear in the moment.
You must be an idiot. Sometimes you feel like there's no filter between your brain and your mouth.

"What's enough, you fuckin' loser?!" One man yells.

Kazzek came up from behind and tugged lightly on your shirt.

"Ronnie, shut up, man. Come on, just sit down..." He whispered.

"There's no sentient flesh in this soup!" You asserted. "I'm sure of it!"

"Ah yeah? And what makes you so sure, genius?" The same man yelled across the tables.

...You didn't know for sure, honestly. But you felt like that's wasn't the case.

"...Because, like you said, there's a food shortage."

"Yeah, and that's why-"

You cut him off.

"That's why, if he were feeding people to eachother, we'd be in this soup instead of eating it!"

The clamor died down a bit as people looked between eachother.

"Think about it!" You continued. "We're pirates! We attacked them, tried to starve them out... and they still didn't kill us! Sure, we're enslaved... but look around you!"

You waved your arms at all the people walking around the camp.

"Is there anyone missing?! Anyone who didn't die in the initial fight?! NO!"

"He's right, now that i think about it. Even Dakorr is still here, and he's fat as shit." Someone whispered to the man next to him.

"What about those who DID die in that ambush?!" Someone countered. "He could be feeding us those corpses! Or the ones who were already dead on this station!"

...Shit, he was right about that. It's possible, honestly. But still, you didn't believe it.
Maybe you just don't want to believe it. Is that so wrong, though? Who would ever even do something like that?

"He's not, gods damn it! You should be lucky he's feeding you bastards at all!" You yelled back.

"I'm gonna feed you my fuckin' fist if you don't shut the hell up! Nobody's gonna eat this slop if i got anything to say about it!"

Just as things are getting heated, just as you thought it was about to devolve into a fistfight and get you both shocked half to death...
The administrator appeared behind the man who was yelling at you, and smacked him over the head with his ladle so hard that it completely lost it's shape.

The man grabbed his head in response to the pain, but so did the administrator.
Yanking him around by the singular, antenna-like appendage on his head, he was forced to sit back in his chair.

And then, he whispered into his ear.
>>
>>6055796
>"What about those who DID die in that ambush?!" Someone countered. "He could be feeding us those corpses! Or the ones who were already dead on this station!"
Simple, he'd be rationing it out to the people of the station. Not giving it to these scrubs.
>>
>>6055796
>hard that it completely lost it's shape.
The ladde or the head?
>>
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>>6055821
>>
>>6055825
heh... got it boss
>>
>>6055825
reminds me of Tom&Jerry shenanigans
>>
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>>6055796
"You'll cowards don't even smoke crack."
>>
>>6055796

Whatever the administrator said to him, it must have been horrible.
The man froze stiff, and his expression was as if he'd just come face to face with a wraith.

The administrator patted him twice on the shoulder and simply walked off.

But the man he whispered to was still just stuck, frozen in place for a minute or two, until someone finally asked if he's alright.
That snapped him out of his stupor, but instead of responding, he quickly stood up and walked back to his tent without eating.

"Hey, if he's not eating that, i call dibs!"

Someone grabs his bowl and guards it jealously next to their own.

"Seriously, Ronnie. You gotta learn when not to speak up, man. If you do something to grab that freak's attention and he kills you, i'm not bailing your stupid ass out." Kazzek chided you.

You didn't particularly think you'd done anything special, but maybe you were wrong.

Dinner is mostly quiet after that. Most people eat. Some don't. Others eat their portion for them, that's just how it goes.
For your part, you eat it all. You really don't think there's anything bad in the food. Probably.

...And it helps that it's so delicious.

...

The next morning, you woke up in your tent practically brimming with energy, despite how little you'd eaten the night before and the whole day before that.
Stretching your limbs, you exited your tent and immediately saw the administrator was once again walking around the camp, and seemed to be gathering people up.

Turns out you were right, and before long he's got the whole camp rounded up.

You're taken to an empty field where several tables have been set up, and what look like practice targets had been placed quite some distance away.
You'd thought the targets were much too far out for phaser training, and you were right.

The administrator had a different air about him today.
He didn't have that same oppressive tone to his voice as before. Rather, he spoke loudly, clearly and concisely.

Apparently this was called a "Range Day" and, simply speaking, it was aim training... but not with phasers, nor with plasma weapons.
The administrator spoke to everyone over a set of loudspeakers to ensure he was heard well, and described in great detail the form and function of a "Gun".

Guns are... kind of nuts, actually.

Metal tubes that contain explosions just long enough to launch a piece of lead down their length.
Why lead? Isn't that stuff poisonous? Why explosions? Couldn't you just use a coilgun?

You don't get it, personally. But the administrator, who now insisted on being called "Instructor", seemed very passionate about them.

After he's done with his explanation, he split all of you up into eight big groups and had you gather around for a close-up demonstration.
Together with him are several others that you haven't seen before, including a Caithan and two more of his kind.

You end up stationed at the table manned by the Caithan.
>>
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>>6056391
>Caithan
[Lust intensifies] in Ronnie
>>
>>6056405
>don't stare at her arms don't stare at her arms don't stare at her arms don't sta- gods damn she's built, how did she get so muscular?
>"Are you checking me out?"
>"HEY SHITLIPS ARE YOU CHECKING HER OUT?!"
>FUCK
>>
>>6056391
>"Oh gods she could crush my skull between her thighs. Oh gods did I say that out load?"
>>
>>6056405
>>6056499
>>6056597
Ronnie is the new Quest mascot. Sorry Princess.
>>
>>6056687
>[dismissive reptilian growling ensues]
Princess will always reign supreme.
>>
>>6056692
See you next thread when you realize how much more screentime Ronnie's gonna get
>>
As soon as the food shortage is solved I want to try an experiment with newly promoted to no longer buttmonkey, Gildur.
>>
>>6056391

"Alright, listen up, all of you. I can't stress enough how dangerous these weapons are, so please pay attention to everything i'm about to tell you." She warned.

Over the course of the demonstration, she disassembled and reassembled a "Pistol", a "Shotgun" and a "Rifle", and took care to explain every working part of each one.
She also pulled apart a "Bullet" and dumped the explosive powder out onto the table, then lit it on fire. There was a big flash, but not much of plume of smoke nor a loud noise to speak of.

You were somewhat distracted during her demonstration, however.
The woman in front of you was rather short for a Caithan. You're certain she's over twenty years old since her mane has grown in.

She's really just that small...

But despite how little she is, she's packed on more muscle than any Caithan you've ever seen in your life. Maybe even twice as much.
You had to wonder, is it that bodysuit she's wearing, just making her look bulky?

That question was answered when she bent down and picked up an entire shipping crate, at least two meters by two meters, and lifted it up onto her shoulder.
Through that skintight suit, you could see her back muscles, bicep and legs bulging. She's a walking slab of rock-hard muscle.

Absolutely freakish. You have no doubt that she's using some sort of drug cocktail to stimulate muscle growth, no doubt shortening her lifespan.
You see it from time to time, being a pirate. People who want to get a little bit stronger, and end up dying for it in the end. Enlarged hearts, hormone regulation issues... it's awful.

You've served with a Caithan or two in your time. You know what they're supposed to look like, and what they're normally capable of, physically.
This woman is an absolute monster. You can't even imagine what she could do to a man in a scrap. Dangerous.

She set the clearly heavy crate down with a thud by the range, and began setting up large blocks of what look like gelatin.
Each one was in the shape of a humanoid torso, and had (you hope) fake bones and organs inside of them, all visible from the outside.

She explained that these were targets used to demonstrate the damage a "bullet" can cause.

After having all of you line up, she then fired a pistol three times into the target.
The damage was immense, far worse than you expected.

She pushed a metal rod through the wounds she'd created, and all but one had gone cleanly through the simulated torso.
The one that didn't had struck the sternum, cracking it, and then stopped against the spine.

You were struck. Even the smallest, weakest "Gun" she had shown you was capable of this much?
Stabbing holes clean through your body, and even breaking bones?

Blood pooled in the fake torso where it had struck the organs. At that moment, you were certain. Getting shot by one of these things, just once... it was a death sentence.

Phasers and Plasma weapons, they could kill. But it depended on how powerful they were, and where they struck.
>>
>>6056964
Smart man Ronnie, we are watching for horny thoughts of our cat gf.
>>
>>6056964
>5
>>
>>6056964
>>6057311 <-- Wrong one
>>
>>6056964

If you were struck by a bullet though, you don't think it would matter.

If it hit you in the leg, you'd bleed out.
If it hit you in the toe, your toe would explode and you'd bleed out.

...And if the gun exploded, you'd get hit in the head with shrapnel and bleed out. You can't say you're a fan of the design.

When you voiced this concern, the caithan instructor simply assured you "Just trust me, they won't explode."

You have trouble believing that.

Regardless, the demonstration continued, and you were subjected to increasingly loud and destructive displays of explosive projectile-launching weaponry.
The pistol wasn't so bad. You'd been given foam ear-plugs and earmuffs, both of which you wore.

You're glad you did. Those who refused weren't reprimanded, which initially led you to believe that they perhaps weren't all that necessary.
However, given how little you could hear and how loud the pistol was despite that fact, and the others who clenched their ears or even tried to run away during it's firing, well...

The shotgun was so loud that you could feel a thump in your chest every time she fired it. By that point every single person was wearing their hearing protection.
The first rifle she used was even louder, which was somewhat surprising since it seemed smaller.

But the second rifle she used was oddly quiet. Even quieter than the pistol, in fact.
Until she started using explosive rounds, that is.

As for the damage, it was varied, but always utterly excessive.

For the shotgun, she showed three types of damage on a single target.
The first was from "Birdshot", and the target was filled with hundreds of tiny penetrative wounds.

You can't imagine the kind of pain that would cause. The bleeding would be awful, and treating the injuries would be difficult, since you'd have to dig out hundreds of lead pellets.
It's the sort of thing that should definitely be outlawed in the federation, but you've never heard of such a weapon in the first place, so who knows if it is.

The second was "Buckshot". Simply put, the lead pellets were made larger.
Each one seemed to do about as much damage as the pistol, crushing bone and tearing apart organs.

But a single round of "Buckshot" struck the target eight different times at once.
Why? They'd be dead after a single bullet wound, wouldn't they? Who are you fighting that you need to shoot them seven more times?

And as if that was somehow not enough, she finished off the shotgun demonstration with "Deer slugs".

"These are for targets that won't go down easily. They won't penetrate armor well, but a bug's carapace shouldn't be able to stop them." She explained.

She fired three deer slugs into the target in quick succession.
The first simply caused the target's head to explode, sending chunks of skull and brain flying everywhere. The second shot hit the target in the chest and caused it to jump nearly off the table.
>>
>>6057607
Next on Garand Thumb...!
>>
>>6057607
Thanks, I have a gun boner now
>>
>>6057790
>"And what do we say about catgirls Micah?"
>"It's okay when they piss on the furniture but not me."
>>
>>6057607
Now wondering how many aliens are from 'loud worlds' that require hearing to develop in a way that protects them from most excessive noises. I imagine they would speak in higher frequencies to cut through deeper sounds with higher clarity.
>>
>>6057607
>Our Cat Gf cant be this hot in a demonstration video
We could have made millions by acting like FPS Russia or Garand thumb, but with cat woman.
>>
>>6057882
Gunsmith Catgirl?
>>
>>6057607

And the third shot severed the spine, basically splitting the dummy in half and causing it to fall over in two pieces, connected only by a hunk of shredded... gelatin.

You were shocked into silence at the damage it caused.
Many people there were.

"Hoooooly shit!"

Most of them.

The Caithan instructor continued her display, ending it off with explosive rounds from the quiet rifle.
They did catastrophic damage, even worse than the deer slugs.

That said, when you're trying to compare "Completely Shredded" with "Even More Shredded", it doesn't really matter at that point.

"...And that's why we never put our finger on the trigger until we're ready to shoot." She explained. "Because one accident can and will leave someone looking like that."

She pointed at the folding table, covered in bits of gelatin and dripping with blood.

"You must always be aware of where you're pointing your weapon. These bullets won't stop when they hit something, they'll punch right through whoever or whatever and kill someone else, too."

She must have drilled those rules into your heads a hundred times before any of you were even allowed to touch one of those weapons.
But you see why, because as soon as she started teaching one of you how to shoot, he almost immediately broke those rules.

Not intentionally, of course. He'd start talking to her, then simply forget he was holding the pistol.
His finger would slip down onto the trigger, where it so naturally rests... or he'd accidentally point his weapon at someone for a moment.

She became furious immediately whenever it happened, and moreso as it kept happening.
After the tenth time or so, she simply began shocking anyone who made a mistake, and informing them of what they did only afterwards.

That helped, you think. People were more afraid of their collars than the weapons for some reason, but you... well, when it was time for you to shoot...

"There, just like that. Keep your shoulders back, and don't lean forwards. Hold your right hand with the left, and keep your grip below the slide." She instructed.

The instructor repeatedly corrected your posture, but you couldn't focus on it for how nervous you were.
She had already explained the "iron sights" a dozen times over, so you understood what you were supposed to do, but your hands wouldn't stop shaking.

That is, until she wrapped her arms around you and helped to stabilize your aim.
You felt something firm pressing against your back, and suddenly all of your nervousness disappeared.

With a shockingly steady hand that surprised even you, you lined up your shot and fired.

...It was a hit.

You were aiming for the "center mass", but struck the dummy in the lower left abdomen.
It was nearly a miss, but you were still happy. The target was set up pretty far away, and only three others had hit it out of your entire group.

"Hey, great shot!" She cheered.

"...I did good?" You questioned.

"Very good, actually! Now, please clear your weapon and set it down."
>>
>>6058537
>That is, until she wrapped her arms around you and helped to stabilize your aim.
>You felt something firm pressing against your back, and suddenly all of your nervousness disappeared.

>ronnie's fw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VR9wmlmD2SA
kek
>>
>>6058537
Tits help focus, he will learn well without them, or be castrated.
>>
>>6058537

On the first day, each of you only got to fire a single bullet from each weapon.
Sometimes two, if it was a close miss.

After that, they ran a bunch of other tests, too.
Physical and mental aptitude tests, with a bunch of strange requirements like seeing how long you can hold your breath, or answering a bunch of hypothetical questions.

It was nothing like the school you attended as a child, where they simply taught you how to fly a specific line of civilian cargo ships.
The questions were so strange, varied and abstract that you honestly had no idea what the correct answer was on most of them, so you just did your best.

You never received a score back on the mental part of the test, but for the physical, everyone's numbers were displayed on a big screen in the middle of camp, for all to see.
You're pretty happy with how you placed. Somewhere in the middle of the top third, better than most of the guys around you.

You've always been pretty confident when it comes to your speed and flexibility, maybe strength a little less so.

...The guys towards the bottom of that list were bullied endlessly that night.
Meanwhile, those who scored higher such as yourself, were treated a little better than usual.

Unfortunately for you, Kazzek scored even higher than you did, and his attitude towards you didn't change in the slightest.
If anything, he was more smug and dismissive of you than usual.

You get the feeling that physical confirmed something he already assumed, and now he's very proud of himself. Whatever.

Your meal that night was some strange sort of bread, which you think was made from nutrient paste... or at least, it tasted similar.
That, together with a creamy stew containing lots of vegetables, and again, some sort of meat... but in larger, more visible chunks this time.

It was delicious, fatty and slightly sweet. You don't know how else to describe it.

There were at least a couple of fights that night, because some people got four pieces of meat while others got five.
You're not sure if you were simply lucky or if the administrator favored you, but you can never tell the others that you actually got seven pieces of meat that night.

...

The next morning, there was bad news.
Someone was dead.

Apparently they'd snuck out to the range and tried to steal a gun from one of the crates by the range.
You wondered how it was possible, but apparently they'd slipped a piece of cardboard between the electrical contact and their neck, so they wouldn't get shocked.

That was a bad idea, since they made it about a hundred meters from the camp before their collar popped.

It's suspected that he was going to try and hijack a ship to escape the station.
Idiot. They already told him, if the collar ever lost signal it would pop after five minutes. What did he think would happen if he flew away?

The administrator didn't seem bothered by it at all, though. In fact, he didn't even mention it.



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