We had been passively watching them for some time. They called themselves humanity. We knew they were on the verge of discovering faster than light travel, so we waited for them. We hoped to open trade and such between them and the Federation; even though our space travel technology was significantly more advanced, there was still much they had discovered we were interested in. Especially their advances in genetic engineering.

However, that is not what I am examining. I am the Second Fleet Small Arms Specialist for the Galactic Federation. I am to meet with a Human Ordinance Specialist. An American, right, they’re still fractured into multiple countries, curious. I am to meet with him and learn about American small arms, and compare our relative equivalents.

The Human “Cruiser” is due to dock with our station within the next cycle. Strangely, they developed military ships so soon after discovering FTL. I have to download the visitor’s language onto my translator, “English” it is called.

I watched as the human ship grew closer to our station. It was long, dark grey and black, and angular. Strange, the ship had a front and back, not unheard of, but rare. As it grew closer I could see why. It appeared that the front of the ship was a large cannon, I’d have to ask the one I’m meeting about it. I could also see multiple point defense turrets, at least I think that’s what they were, they look nothing like the pulse laser turrets used on my species's ships. As it began docking, I could see English writing on the side, it said “U.S.S. Indianapolis.”

I was to enter the human ship and would be escorted to the armory. I made my way toward the dock, I saw one small problem, the average human was a bit shorter than me, I stood at about seven feet tall.

I made my way toward the hangar connection, which was a relief, the door was designed for small craft, more than tall enough for me. There were many humans, wearing what looked to be formal white military dress, some in more practical combat dress, carrying long, strangely shaped weapons, and what appeared to be a smaller weapon in a case on their waist.

They were vastly different from me. Four limbs, they were bipedal and had long manipulators on the end of each arm. They had two forward-facing eyes, indicating a predator species, but unlike most, they didn’t seem to have any natural weaponry. I was in formal military attire, but mine was grey, rather than white. Compared to them, I have two more eyes. I also have two main arms, but I have four additional smaller arms down my abdomen.

I moved toward the two humans that would take me to the armory, one would be giving me the demonstration.

When I got near, the two individuals straightened their bodies and raised one of their arms to their heads, and extended their manipulators straight. This wasn’t a surprise however, I had been told this was a standard American military greeting. It showed respect.

One addressed me: “Welcome to the USS Indianapolis, CA-35. It is a pleasure to meet you, I am Sergeant Gerrick, and this is my technician, Mr. Thomas. I apologize but I cannot pronounce the name they gave me for you. How would you like to be addressed?”

“Not a problem, appreciation for the concern. Translated to the English alphabet, my name is heard as Ozis. My rank is Second Fleet Small Arms Specialist.”

“Very good, oh, and I am required to ask: Are you personally carrying any weapons on board the ship?”

“No, why would I carry a weapon onto an allied ship?”

“Every human with a military rank you will meet today, which is the majority of them, will have a sidearm holstered on their hip.”

“Why would you feel the need to be armed at all times?”

“Call it insurance, we don’t necessarily need to go get weapons to repel boarders. We also don’t have any claws or natural armor like you.”

It made sense. It is just a different doctrine. It still was a bit perplexing, that many armed individuals, accidents are bound to happen.

“Very well, I look forward to learning about your weaponry.”

“Right this way s-- ahem, Sir? Ma’am?”

“My species is not sexually dimorphic like yours, just call me Ozis.”

“Apologies Ozis, we’re still getting used to this whole interacting with alien species thing.”

I followed the two men through the hangar, where I saw several smaller military craft. Most of the passing humans looked at me if only for a moment. We made our way through two doors, then one that took the two men putting their eyes in front of a scanner to open. Inside was a large internal hangar, filled with industrial looking equipment, wall mounts filled with small arms, small and larger vehicles, as well as what looked like a testing range.

Sergeant Gerrick turned to me, “Thomas here can fill you in on any technical questions you might have, where would you like to start?”

I glanced curiously at the fearsome-looking vehicles, a strange form of propulsion, it looked as if it moved on large metal belts on either side of the main bulk, which had what looked to be a large cannon, as well as many smaller ones. Those could wait though, we have time.

“On average your soldiers carry two weapons correct? A primary and a secondary?”

“That is correct, standard American military infantry are issued with an MA-27 Rifle, as well as a SIG M23 for a sidearm. There are other weapons used in more specialized roles, but these are the basics.”

He showed me to a table, which looked to feature everything an American soldier carried. It included several armor plates including a helmet, the “rifle,” sidearm, and several rectangular-shaped objects that I did not know the use for. There were also two ball-shaped items and an extremely sharp-looking metal stabbing weapon with one serrated edge.

“At the most basic level, how do these weapons function?”

The one called Thomas addressed me, “Human weaponry fires metal projectiles called bullets, they can vary in size and purpose, but the basic ones look like this.” he held up a small metal tube with a point, the point was a different color than the base, a light red compared to the golden tint of the base.

“This red section here is what is launched at the target. The base is filled with a combustible substance known as gunpowder. This piece on the back is called a primer. When inside a firearm, a trigger pull causes a small hammer to strike the back piece of the bullet, igniting a small explosive inside called a primer. This small explosive causes the gunpowder to explode, launching the small projectile at very high speeds.”

The longer he explained, the more confused I was. They are using kinetic weapons? Kinetics were obsolete hundreds of years before my species became space-faring. Not only that, but to have a small explosion that close to yourself? That had to be dangerous.

“You use kinetic weapons? How can you use kinetic weapons? They must not be effective at penetrating even my natural armor.”

“On the contrary, these bullets are fired at well over supersonic speeds, they have no problem penetrating.”

That could not possibly be true.

“You have managed to create weapons that can throw a projectile faster than the speed of sound? Do they stay controlled? The explosive inside doesn’t harm the user?”

I tried to keep my composure, we switched to plasma weaponry so long ago because of how slow kinetics are. Yet somehow these humans have figured them out. This could be invaluable, as plasma’s main downside is its lack of penetration capability.

“No, they’re relatively harmless to the user.”

“How do the smaller, err, firearms work?”

“Same concept, just a smaller bullet.” Thomas picked a smaller cartridge off the table, “this is nine millimeter, armor-piercing.”

He handed the small object to me, such a little thing, there's no way it could do any significant damage.

“How do you load the bullets into the rifle?”

Thomas gestured to the rectangular objects on the table, “These are magazines, standard capacity holds 45 cartridges each. They are inserted into the bottom of the rifle, where they automatically feed into the chamber every time a round is discharged. When fired, the casing that holds the powder is discarded through the side of the gun.”

It just sounded so… off. My only conclusion is that I must be biased, as what the human was saying made sense. It was just so different than anything I had experienced before. I wanted to keep my professionalism, “I am beginning to understand, will I get to see a demonstration?”

“Of course,” Thomas gestured toward the area full of what must be targets behind him, “that’s what the range is for, but we can test them all at once if you want to see the other items.”

I gestured to the two circular objects on the table, “What are those?”

Thomas chuckled softly then responded, “Those are hand grenades, small explosives you throw.”

That is ridiculous, they must be very weak explosives, so it won’t hurt the thrower. How could they think that was a good idea? There’s no way they can throw that accurately. Though they did seem to proportionally have quite a bit of upper body strength.

The human called Thomas picked one up, “The way this works is, this pin on the side is removed, once this happens, after the lever on the side is released, it will detonate on a timer. When it explodes, the staggered metal squares that make up the sides of the grenade are thrown in all directions, hopefully taking out enemies with shrapnel.”

What was this human talking about? Do they mean to imply that they kill enemies with dirty shrapnel bombs? Not only that but they throw them? How could they possibly expect to be able to throw it far enough and accurate enough? Composure be damned, I had to know. “How can you possibly expect these to be effective?”

The two humans looked a little puzzled by my question. It looked as if they were trying to figure out how to respond. Finally, Thomas looked to me, “The average human in their prime could throw one of these roughly 25 meters per second, on our homeworld’s gravity anyway...”

Ah, that made sense, their homeworld must have very weak gravity if they could throw it that far and fast.

“...we can’t test them here though, as we’ve halved the gravity generator production in preparation for your arrival, knowing your homeworld’s gravity, you would have been extremely uncomfortable in ours for an extended period of time.”

I feel like the longer this human talks, the more confused I am. The gravity on Earth was at least twice that of mine? No wonder human weapons are so strange, they were made to fight on a literal Hell of a planet.

I composed myself, they explained it, time to move on. I gestured to the large vehicles on the side of the room, “what are those?”

This time Sergeant Gerrick smiled, “those are tanks.”