Chapter 8: Enlightenment

"Can we go right now, Dad? Can we go right now and try them out, please?" Tommy asked.

The teenager was so excited at seeing the finished (Dregg version) of the AI Super Magnum rifles that he was bursting to go test them out.

Tom looked at the weapon in his hands, trying to figure out just how Dregg had managed to take a bolt-action big game rifle and turn it into a semi-automatic killing machine. He noticed the feeding tube underneath the length of the barrel looked like more of a cradle for the barrel since it was twice the size of the huge barrel itself.

"How did you get past the feeder problem to keep the bullet of one shell from coming into contact with the primer cap of the shell in front of it?" he asked the bony gray alien he now called a friend.

Dregg's thin gray lips turned up in a smile, "Ahh, you assume that there is a tremendous recoil when the weapon is fired correct?"

Tom, Bets and their son all nodded, since they were all in the expert class in small arms weapons. They all knew from experience that the normal AI Super Mag would tear your damned shoulder off from the massive recoil, if you let your mind wander even a little when firing it.

"You humans and your silly mechanics. All that was needed was a small inertial capacitor to absorb the recoil at the rear of the firing chamber," Dregg said, shaking his head as he suppressed a smile.

"So this inertial capacitor takes all the recoil out? Tom asked, disbelieving the technology in his hands.

Bets cut in before Dregg could respond. "By the way, mister smarty pants, not everybody flies around with these inertial capacitor thingy's falling out of their pockets, so take it easy on us lowly humans, ok?" Bets snorted at boney boy.

Dregg rolled his eyes at her remarks. "Of course they do, my lovely female friend. Only the most backwater planet would not know about such a simple device and how to apply them in everyday use."

Tom and Tommy both took a step back to get out of the line of fire. Poor old Dregg had just said the wrong thing to the wrong Irish redhead!

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, BUCKO?" came a soft but deadly voice from the gorgeous redheaded woman.

She was at least a six inches shorter than the gray alien, but that didn't mean a thing to the fiery redhead. Dregg had just crossed the proverbial DON'T SHIT ON MY PLANET line.

"So we're really a bunch of dumb backwater hillbillies, huh?" Bets asked, getting nose-to-nose or as close as she could to poor old Dregg.

"Well, uh, that is to say, my friend ... In some things like technology, uh yes you are, ma'am," Dregg managed to stutter, his eyes following the two human males as they moved away from him and the female.

"And I suppose that all the other planets have great warriors who know so much more about defending themselves without weapons correct?" Bets asked her eyes glinting brightly.

Dregg sensed that he was, as they said on this planet, in deep shit right about then with the human female. He resigned himself to overcome this grievous error.

"I truly did not mean to offend you, my lady, but the fact is that compared to other races I have encountered, yours is indeed lacking in abilities to defend yourselves against a trained warrior."

Dregg quickly added, "I myself have trained for more years than you have been alive, and I'm still considered only a middle class warrior," he acknowledged with a hopeful smile on his thin lips.

He hoped the smile would take the true but harsh reality out of the words he had just spoken. It didn't have the desired results the thin gray alien was looking for.

"Well then, maybe you would do me the honor of showing this backwater female human some of your advanced moves. Strictly for the enlightenment of our little family here, of course," Bets added with a dangerous smile on her face.

"Oh, boy! It's hit the fan now, Dad, hasn't it?" Tommy asked softly.

"Yep! It's not only hit the damned fan, but it's been blown into tiny little pieces. You better go have that Miss Falash AI get the regeneration chamber ready for our friend over there," Tom suggested softly as he pushed his son out the back door.

"Aww, Dad ... I want to see this, too, ya know. It's not like I'll get another chance to see Mom really go full speed with an 'advanced alien warrior', again anytime soon," Tommy complained stepping out the back door.

Tom smiled at his boy's words. "Ok, let Miss Falash know and I'll try and stall the show down here as long as possible, but hurry up cause your mom is chompin at the bit to enlighten old Dregg about us poor old backwater hillbillies."

Tommy took off like a shot into the backyard and seconds later disappeared in the soft blue light that surrounded him. Less than a minute later, he was back. He was grinning from ear to ear as he walked into the living room to stand by his dad.

"Hey dad, this is gonna be funnier than we thought," he whispered to his father.

Still keeping his eyes on Bets and Dregg as they both were doing some stretching forms before Dregg enlightened them, Tom asked, "Oh really, boy? How so?"

"Well when I told the AI what was going on down here, I'd swear the entire ship started laughing. It seems what poor ole Dregg considers hand to hand combat fighting, is more like what two little girls around here would call a cat fight," Tommy informed his dad.

Tommy snickered barely containing his mirth, "They only slap each other with an open hand, Dad. They consider a closed fist way too painful both to the person throwing it, and the person getting hit."

Both the combatants were done getting loose and started to circle each other in the middle of the living room.

"Hold on a minute, honey!" Tom ordered as he motioned her to come over with his hand.

A very agitated redhead stalked over to her husband. "What? I'm getting ready to be enlightened by our all knowing friend, over there," she said pointing back at the thin gray alien dancing softly back and forth and doing hand slaps at the air.

"Baby, you need to drop this right now before someone ... and by someone, I mean our buddy Dregg over there ... gets really hurt," Tom said with a no nonsense order in his voice.

'That's his "commander voice", so he's really serious about this for some reason, ' Bets thought, bewildered.

Still ole Dregg had gotten her ire up with his arrogant and unknowingly hurtful words.

"Ok, what's really going on here guys?" she finally sighed, knowing it must be really important to make her husband stop a small combat demonstration.

Tom pointed back over at Dregg dancing and slapping the damn air.

"That, my love IS his combat training. Slapping each other is all they do!" he said, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

Bets eyes drifted back over to a very serious looking Dregg as he danced back and forth and shadow-slapped the damned air. Her eyes widened as she realized just how bad she could have hurt the bony little guy.

All the pent-up anger she felt from his remarks about her home world washed away with a giggle.

"So, sweetie, how do we get out of this without hurting his feelings?" she finally managed to choke out without laughing outright.

Tom scratched his head as he contemplated how to show Dregg the errors of his ways without hurting the 90lb bags of bones.