Life of a Keplernite Chapter 1

It's the year 2245, humans have colonized moons in the Kepler Belt, and have the technology to jump lightyears in mere seconds.

“This is not good….this is not good…” Gordon repeated to himself as he ran circles around his ship.

Whoever was attacking Gordon, wanted to either kill him, with the ship intact, or just incapacitate. Most rifles carried by men of this time are either autobore, or battery. The times of gunpowder of long over, but that doesn’t appear to be stopping this assassin.

Gordon ran into the door to his armory, which was essentially a janitorial closet. He punched the button to open the door, while ducking his unprotected head from any slugs that went his way. Gordon peeked behind him, and saw nobody, but that did little to calm his mind. He was so used to his ship being empty, the prospect of having someone else aboard was surprising. More surprising was that they were shooting at him.

The door started to open, but not quick enough, as Gordon saw a red dot on the control panel in fornt of him, he ducked, and crawled under the door as it was halfway open, when he was inside the closet, he hit the emergency close button, and the door slammed shut. Gordon took a quick moment of respite, and flipped a few switches next to the close button.

The lights turned on, illuminating the cramped janitorial closet. Gordon pat himself on the body, if he’d been shot, the adrenaline rush wouldn’t have allowed him to feel it. When he examined his hand, it was covered in blood.

“Ohhhh that’s not ketchup…is it?” Gordon muttered as he looked down, and saw a large red ricle on his yellow flannel shirt.

“Definitely not ketchup…”

Gordon wiped his bloody hand on his shirt, and walked to the footlocker that was literally two feet in front of him, he stomped on the lever, that opened it.

He got down to his knees, but as soon as he did, he started feeling the bullet that was in his gut. The pain was excruciating, but Gordon needed to take care of his assassin before he could take care of his wound. The nearest first aid kit was in the med-bay, and to get there, he needed a weapon.

“Alright…Autobore rifles are out of the question…I wanna kill this guy, but I want my ship intact.” Gordon said.

Gordon inspected a flare gun, he opened the barrel, it was loaded.

‘Besides…I have questions.”

Gordon emptied the pocket on his toolbelt that was reserved for screwdrivers and welding torches, and holstered his flare gun.

Gordon rummaged through his footlocker in hopes of finding any more flares, and to his luck, he found none. His armor would be useless without it’s battery pack, and he would probably get shot before he could get his bucket on. He needed conventional weapons to take his assailant down.

“ Is this really all I got? Bloody hell…I’m more screwed now then I was before!”

Gordon slammed his footlocker shut. And he grabbed his flaregun.

“Alright…well he probably thinks I’m actually armed…so I guess I have that going for me” Gordon said to himself somberly. Gordon slowly got up, and winced in pain as he did. Gordon could hear a banging on his door.

“Oh thank god…he’s an idiot” Gordon chuckled

Gordon slowly crept to the door, and placed his hand over the quick release button, he hunched over, and got into position.

“Come out come out Mr. Kaluke…” The assassin’s voice was muffled through the 4 inch steel door.

“Come out and plaaa�"“ Gordon didn’t let the assassin finish, he hit the quick release button, and as the door slowly opened, Gordon grabbed the assassin’s ankles, and he pulled them in, the assassin fell onto his back, as Gordon dragged the assassin in, and hit the emergency close button, the door slammed down, and crushed the assassin’s legs from the knees down. The door had shut completely, barely a crack to be seen.

Gordon winced, he had seen mangled bodies during his time in the Trench war, but they were never mangled by him.

“Alright you cheeky son of a b***h, You still with me?” Gordon said, as he pressed the door release. He grabbed his welding torch, and turned it on. He gave it a few seconds to warm up.

“This was supposed to be an easy job…what the hell happened?...” The assassin was hazy, but still lucid.

Gordon turned up the heat on his torch, until a large ball of flame appeared on one end, as the heat intensified, he moved the torch away from his face.

“I’m not a doctor…but I know if you lose any more blood…You’re gonna die. So I’m going to cauterize your wound.” Gordon said reassuringly, to the man who is trying to kill him.

He counted to three, and torched the man’s stubby leg. He screamed and started banging on the floor, Gordon looked over to see if the assassin still had his gun, but it was on the floor about 3 feet away from him. Once the stub looked completely covered in the plasma flux. The burns left by a plasma torch are most often than not 1^st degree burns, with weapons as they are now, it is common for limbs to become dismembered. The plasma torch is good for both medical, and repairing purposes.

Gordon looked down at the unconscious would be assassin, and he sighed. The man’s face looked clean, and untested. Such was many of the so called “brave” space farers, looking to fulfill a fantasy of journeying through the stars on the backs of machine guns and bazookas.

Gordon clenched his gut, he had planned on dragging the assassin to the med-bay, but he was in no condition to do heavy lifting. He limped to the piece that was on the ground, it was a .325 caliber revolver, loaded with 2 bullets.

“This arsehole was able to hurt me….with this peashooter…”

Gordon examined the piece, he was trained in how to use gunpowder weapons but he’d never really seen the need to use one. Especially a revolver, weren’t those the things the cowboys used? To shoot bank robbers, and steal land from Indians?

Gordon accidentally pressed on the latch, causing the cylinder to pop out of the side, causing all 6 shells to drop to the floor. Gordon groaned, as he bent over, and picked up the two shells that had bullets in them. He put them in his pocket, and then he tucked the revolver in his pants, knowing there was no risk of him shooting his knickers off.

“I’m only a couple thousand miles away from Titan…I can drift there…no need for a 4-D jump…” Gordon gulped, as he talked to himself.

He was hugging the walls, until he stumbled into the medical bay, it was small, there were only two cots in case anybody was injured. The sheets were clean, and made. Gordon unbuttoned his flannel, and tossed the bloodied garment onto the counter. His white tank was absolutely stained. He tossed that onto the counter as well. He ran a faucet, and washed his hands. Grabbing a couple of paper towels and clumping them together, he got them wet, and cleaned his wound, but the blood kept coming out.

“Alright…I need a doctor…no problem…3 of your friends are full capable medical professionals…” Gordon said to himself reassuringly. While applying pressure to his wound, he walked to an extranet terminal, which had a very large monitor that looked like one of those TVs from the 1980s.

He slowly sat down on the rolly chair, as to not exert himself. He was sure his friends were still on planet, it had only been a couple hours since they’d gotten together for their yearly reunion.

“First…Lana Banana…She just runs a flower shop…how busy can she be…”

Gordon rang Lana Forkes, she was a medic during the Trench wars, she got promoted when the chief medic lost his head. Both figuratively and literally. She currently runs a book and flower shop on Luna. She lives a quiet life, away from the troubles of the galaxy.

“No ring…Alright…what about Rennie, he owes me some favors…”

Gordon gave a ring to Renault Dubois as well. Renault was a part of the Battery Brigade during the Trench Wars. They were responsible for bringing down the shields, allowing the Autbore division to deliver the killing blows. Armor has two parts, plating, and kinetic barriers. Autobore rifles can punch through plating no problem, but it hits a wall with kinetic barriers. That’s where battery weapons come in. They sap the battery packs providing power to the kinetic barriers, leaving anyone with kino-plate armor defenseless to autobore rifles. On their own however, Battery Rifles are less lethal, and more extremely painful. They are a pacifist’s weapon, that can just as well be a masochists weapon too.

Renault settled down in Ontario Canada, married to a schoolteacher, with 2 healthy kids. He currently works as an engineer, for practically everything.

“You’re killing me Rennie!” Gordon shouted, as he slammed his fist down on a wall. “I’ve got one last choice…” he shuttered. “Kirk…”

Kirk Shultz was a child prodigy, who enlisted to disappoint his parents. He was a replacement field medic during the Trench Wars, who would also get his hands dirty if need be. He lives on Earth, with one adopted son, whom he found abandoned in an alleyway. Kirk has dabbled in the dating scene, but decided it was not for him. He spends his days conducting many experiments and studies, most of which go against APA regulations.

Gordon gave Kirk a ring, and seconds later, he was patched through.

“Gordon! Great timing, I was just about to call you” said Kirk, with a thin german accent.

“Really?” Gordon clenched his wound “And why’s that”

“Am I a person you’d want to kill?” said Kirk, somberly.

“Kirk-eh-No. You’re a weird guy, but I mean, everyone’s a little weird-“ said Gordon

“I found a bomb in my lab Gordon, someone means to kill me, and my boy.” Said Kirk.

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