Shooting Practice

Kit was as enthusiastic as Corvan expected him to be when it came to finally learning how to fire a blaster.  The moon they had landed on had a small colony a few miles away where they had picked up supplies and hauled them back to the ship on the speederbike.  It was also a safe enough distance in case any misfires happened.  Corvan didn’t want to have to alight off the moon due to Kit accidentally shooting a local in the head.

    The ship was nestled in a small valley with a lot of scrubby bushes scattered on the ground; a place that was somewhat inaccessible, making for the perfect firing range.  The boy’s target was a durasteel sheet of scrap metal leaning up against a boulder at least four yards away.  The metal had a target scratched onto it using the blade of a knife, a dull X that showed when the sun hit it.  Corvan had chosen a small enough blaster so that it wouldn’t tip down in Kit’s grip, and so that it wouldn’t feel too unwieldy.  He had let the boy run around with his weapons before–always making sure to remove the power packs of course–and had a fairly good idea which sorts worked for him.

    Kit had his legs braced apart as he aimed at the metal sheet, closing one eye.  Corvan was crouched next to him, a hand on his shoulder.  He gave his son’s arm a squeeze.

    “Both eyes open, Kit’ika.  

“But–”

    “Who’s shot more blasters here?”

Kit grumbled something and opened his one eye, but continued to squint at the target.  He lowered the blaster abruptly, frowning.

    “What if I don’t hit it?”

“Then you keep on trying.”

    “Yeah, but…what if I keep on missing?” Kit asked, looking at Corvan. “What if I’m a bad shot?”

    Corvan gave the boy a wry smile.

“Kit, I’m a bad shot.  I either hit a target dead on or all over the place.  There’s no in between.  Just make sure you shoot them before they shoot you”–he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial level so that Kit had to lean in closer–”And if you can’t shoot it, then you can always stab it.”

    The boy grimaced.

“Yeah, but then you gotta get close.”

    “Not when you’re knife throwing,” Corvan replied, giving Kit’s shoulder a shake.

He got a grin out of the kid.

    “When do we try that?”

“After you practice shooting.  Now quit stalling and start lighting up that target.”

Kit stuck his tongue out at Corvan before raising the blaster again and aiming it at the metal sheet.  The targeting light jittered around as he tried to match it up perfectly over the scratched X.  He stood posed there for a good few seconds, the light dancing in a little circle.

“So I pull the trigger, and that’s it?”

“Yeah.  Ready?”

“Ready,” Kit said, his voice slightly strained from concentration.

Corvan saw the boy’s red index finger tug back on the trigger, the bolt of energy burst out of the barrel of the weapon and hit the target.  A flood of pride welled up in his chest—and was immediately replaced by alarm when the energy bolt came rocketing towards him.  He had raised his arm as a shield as soon as the blast ricocheted, otherwise it might have punched into his head, and he wouldn’t have been feeling much of anything anymore after that.

The bolt plowed into his upper arm, a burning sensation punching deep into his flesh as it threw him to the ground with enough velocity to crack his teeth together in his skull.  Corvan slapped his free hand on the burn site and immediately regretted it as it made it far worse, the fire spreading along his injured limb.  Amid the howl of pain that must have come out of him as soon as he was hit, he heard Kit panicking.  The blaster hit the ground with a thud–thank the Force it wasn’t aimed at him since he knew Kit wasn’t aware enough to put it on safety mode–and the boy took off for the ramp of the ship, screaming at the top of his lungs with apparent panic:

“Mom!  Help!  I shot Dad!”

“I’m not dead!” Corvan added, his voice strangled.

At least, he mused while grinding his teeth in agony, this would make for an entertaining story later.