A Space Pastiche Passageway

Of course I will tell you of my run past the Rim and through the void of space and time. Why do you think I came back? It wasn't just for myself you know, although, to tell the truth, fear was the prime motivator that sent me off in such a hurry. My life was on the line. Actually, there was the first trip just over the Rim, call that a test-run if you will, a picnic compared to the second launching. Having no idea of the rules, or regulations time and space travel, yet owning a topflight ship of the Ambassador class, sent me reeling almost out of control. What did I know of time-warps, wormholes, folds-in-space and other dimensions? Ah, the joys of adventure.
Being one who loves to learn set me up to do just that, and boy did I learn. Call it the hard way if you will, but well worth the effort, not only for myself , but for all my friends as well. This is a story about adventure, love, friendship and family ties, and how belief in hope for a peace treaty between warring planets came to fruition on the edge of space called, "The Rim".
As a child I remember standing on the sun bleached rocks and sand of the Sacra River on Caligymnos; it is a hidden planet, seemingly cloaked in a vapor of gas which hides it from the prying eyes of it's enemies, for it is a golden planet of the first magnitude. Many have plotted invasion to plunder her great wealth, but all have failed. Why, you might ask? Ah, this is but a small key to the story you read now. Only those who wear the space pendent of Caligymnos understand how to land their space ships on the errant planet of my birth. Others knew little if nothing of its very existence, until treacherous plots were put into play...thus the need to tell this tale.
In that time so long ago, as I stood by the wide flowing river of the sacra looking up to the vault of stars, a sense of wonder and auspicious grace flowed over me as if I were a boulder, and the water of life flowed around me as it does to this day. The pungent smell of willows and river weeds filled my nostrils, and I knew I in for in for the ride of my life.
This is also the story of my red-headed partner, a rough of the first class. To look at him you would know exactly what I mean. Tall with broad shoulders, an ugly scar cuts across his right cheek. My Captain, for he'll always be my Captain as well as my teacher and friend has the biggest feet on any man I've ever seen. His flight suites are tailor made as well as his big-foot boots. Like a ursaline bear he walks with confidence, ambles is a better word. His long red hair is tied at the nap of this bull neck, pirate style, which suites him well. You must have guessed by now he is my hero, for I am young and after all, he did save my life.
Strange how things begin one way and end in another isn't it? Here is some advice on galactic gallivanting. Never, never step up the bar, or any bar on the far-flung fringes of the rim and order Milmoo, Milgoo, or however it may be pronounced in the local tongue. You smile, you know of what I speak? All heads will turn, conversations will stop, sneers and hisses will be heard...the scrapping of chairs on dirty whiskey stained floors will grate louder than the local music.
Somehow I had made it through the landing procedure on a small backwater planet I had never heard of. Okay, I was lost in space, go ahead and laugh. My on-board computer systems were shutting down faster than I could reboot them, coming in blind would be an understatement. Rules are rather lax on the Rim, otherwise I think the Port Officer would have fined me more than I could have hoped to pay.
After filling out all the forms and a raft of apologies, it seemed like a good idea to take a walk and stretch my legs. It was not a long walk from the docking port bays to the garbaged-lined alleys, and the seedy center of the fronter town. In the confidence, or stupidity of youth, I walked into the first place that was open and ordered a Milgoo.
Thank my lucky stars for my red-headed free-trader Captain, who grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and ushered me out the door for a little man-to-man talk. A boy has to learn, isn't that what mistakes for?
A whale of a tail this is... call it luck if you will, but in that very same bar after having our man-to-man talk, the brute of a Captain still having me by the collar of my flight suit dragged me back into that smoke filled ill lit bar room, and slammed me down on an empty chair. My head hit the overhead light that hung over a card and chip strewn poker table, sending it to sway back and forth like a pendulum. Raising my head and looking from side-to-side, I could see all eyes were in wonder as to why the Captain had saved me...I wondered myself. Counting myself, five of the worst liars, cheats and roughs sat at that whiskey stained, cigar burnt green felt card table. No one smiled, and narrow eyed stares greeted me.
"The kid is in". His voice was deep and menacing, then he gave a bright-eyed wink and all reached for their whiskey glasses as if on cue. "Hold it, hold it, get the kid a glass". The three across the table stopped midway between table and thirsty lips with their glasses sloshing whiskey, each mumbled a superlative that will remain unsaid. A glass was slammed down so hard on the table, it made me jump. I could smell the foul stained apron of the barkeep as he leaned over me, as he slamming down a full bottle of caramel coloured liquid known to most as rotgut. "Not this you idiot, bring a bottle of the real stuff, your best", the Captain bellow. With thirsting toughs the three across from me grumbled and lowered their glasses to wait for the new bottle which was hastily brought to the table. "Put it on my tab", the Bigfoot Captain said. "Drinks are on me boys". A tall gaunt man with an opaque eye leaned forward, his long neck and head tilted sideways, his ears were pierced with many gold rings. Minding my manners I tried to focus on his good eye, but failed. He leaned back. The Captain twisted the cap on the neck of the bottle with such force, that I sucked in air thinking of what those meat hooks for hands were capable of, being glad the man was on my side.
All three across the table quickly polished off their swill in one gulp. Their eyes glazed as they nodded their heads, coughed and choked, lowering empty glasses to be filled promptly by the Captain. "Ya best not waste this prime stuff, this is sipping whiskey", he growled. He filled my glass to the brim. I knew I had to drink it, all the while wishing for a glass of Millmoo for a chaser. I closed my eyes and took a healthy drink. Since this was my first taste of such spirits, and being desperate to fit in, I swished the amber liquid from one side of my mouth to the other and swallowed. My throat on fire, sucking in air, my eyes popping, culminated by the big paw of the Captain coming down on my back. "That's the spirit kid!".
Through my watering eyes...did I see what I though I saw? Yes. They tried to hide it with their dark slit eyes, but a faint grin flashed before my eyes closed to wipe the tears away. "You'll learn to like it Laddie. We drinks what we gets here, dregs or cream de la cream is all the same to us." They tilted back their heads in a laugh that made me shudder. The opaque eye of the thin man rolled as he , "Let's play cards boys". They all licked their lips knowing full well my money belt was full. With a smile of innocence I took another sip from my sticky stained glass."What did you say the name of this stuff is?" My ears were ringing. "Grand Mariner, you like it kid? Over eighty chips a bottle in these ports of the outback". My eyes widened as I jerked my head to see a smile cross the Captain's face. The thin man wiped his beard with the back of his hand while holding the cards tight in his fingers. "Enough small talk, deal the bloody cards", came a reply from a hulk of a man that sat next to the dealer, "The Lad will start to grow a beard if you tarry much longer".