Branches Book

BRANCHES

Xander Kleiman

KEPTAR-5

Part 1: On Keptar-5, they eat wagworf. It tastes kind of like chicken, but it’s the size of a cow. It also has scales, that, when cooked just right, could be mistaken for a perfectly singed salmon skin. Much like a cow, they also graze in herds in the desert, and are attended to by ranchers and cowboys until their journey to the slaughterhouse. Kurt Vanbis was one of these men, a human working as a wagworf cowboy on a Keptarian owned wagworf ranch. For about an hour and a half every day on Keptar-5, both of its twin suns set their fiery sights on the surface of Keptar-5’s sprawling plains and clusters of glittering metropolises. It was about 37 minutes into that life draining part of Keptar-5’s three part day and night schedule that Kurt Vanbis found something unusual at the border of the ranch. Kurt’s hovercycle sputtered to a halt and landed awkwardly when Kurt disengaged the antigravity. He slowly dismounted, his boots scraping against the gravel like surface of the ground. He paused to give his old bike a kick before approaching the crashed cargo hovercraft that had drawn his attention. It was a chunky and old model. All of the windows were blown out, and there were blaster marks the size of a wagworf egg pocked across the side. As he got closer, Kurt noticed the small waterfall of blood making its way out of the bottom of one of the blastmarks, clearly a result of the foot space of the passenger seat overflowing. Drawing his blaster pistol but still moving closer, Kurt finally got a view inside the hovercraft. There were two bodies in the car, one at the controls and one sitting shotgun. Only one of the bodies had a head, and the other had a hole where it’s small intestine used to be. Sensing he was safe, Kurt relaxed and holstered his blaster. He opened the passenger door, releasing a larger waterfall of blood, and pulled the headless man out of the passenger seat. As Kurt turned back towards the cockpit, a shard of thermaglass jutting out of the window caught the back of his arm, opening a short gash. Kurt, stumbled and sat on the blood soaked passenger seat. He ripped a length of fabric off of the shirt of intestineless man. Kurt then pulled out his flask and poured its contents on the makeshift bandage. He wrapped the sterilized rag around the wound and tied it tight. He then finished his flask and issued a deep exhale. Relaxing, he leaned into the hovercraft and pressed the button that opens the cargo hold in the back. He could hear the doors open with a hiss as he walked around to the back of the

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