Branches Book

BRANCHES

“Kurt Vanbis! Been a week. I just guessed you were dead.” Responded QiiMok, with a series of grunts, snorts, and trumpets. “Not yet. Any traders from the city inside tonight? I need to get to a spaceport.” “Hmm... Yeah. A couple Bovarian spice traders... I think a Miteesi guy said he was a pilot... Oh and the crew of a Vekomitian mining vessel said they were heading back to the city soon.” “Thanks, QiiMok,” said Kurt, as he slipped a some IGC under his trunk. Shwayze smoke billowed through the sliding doors to the cantina that were creeping open. Dialects from all over the galaxy broke through over the indistinguishable din of the bar. Kurt began to weave his way through the thick crowd of hissing, steaming, sweating, and swearing intergalactic scum. He eventually muscled his way to the bar, where TriPhee, the proud Keptarian owner of the Kwikbena Cantina, stood serving Shwayzefiends and Mercuryheads. Kurt was a regular. “The usual Vanbis? Or you feeling a little more Shwayze tonight?” TriPhee barked over the insatiable crowd noise. “Not tonight Tri. I’m actually looking for a way off planet. QiiMok said something about a Miteesi pilot in here. You seen him?” “Yeah actually, that’s him right there.” One of the tentacles sprouting from the back of TriPhee’s head pointed halfway down the bar. Kurt’s eyes followed the tendril and spotted the pilot halfway through a Shwayze Slap. Kurt pushed his way along the bar and reached the Miteesi as his Shwayze Slap was boiling to its dramatic finish. (It is time those still reading understand exactly just what a Shwayze Slap is. Were you with Kurt in the bar, you too would have observed the long hose-like tube stretching down from behind TriPhee’s spot at the bar, and the mask apparatus on the other end. The mask covered the right half of most humanoid faces. The mask would attach itself to the recipient of the Shwayze Slap and form a vacuum. The hose would then fill with Shwanin, the mysterious gas mined from the moons of Shwa, building pressure within the contraption. Once the pressure has reached its maximum, a small spark is lit at the back end of the hose, igniting the Shwanin gas through the tube ending with a loud and bright pop that shoots the mask off of the recipient. The process sounds explosive but usually only leaves maybe a small singe mark on their right cheek. It also causes the recipient to feel immense psychoactive effects. Oh! It appears the pilot’s Slap is only moments from climax! Let’s watch.) A high pitched whine like a kettle about to steam out emanated from the pilot’s Shwayze mask. Suddenly, there was a bright flash like a gunshot, with a bang just as loud. The mask flew from the pilot’s face, with the hose

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