“Initial course set Captain,” said Kumquat as she
poured over charts and fiddled over a device
covered with knobs and switches.
“Sails set, Captain, and all equipment stowed,”
said Wilbert.
The four crew members of the For Sale looked
at Brownbeard expectantly.
“Weigh anchor, Schmoor!” said Brownbeard.
“Take this ship to Sa’Laam, Kumquat!”
With that, the For Sale blasted out of the lagoon
behind Hazel’s sand castle, cruising just inches
above the tree tops before Kumquat eased the
ship into a steady climb. Brownbeard fell upon his
rear, unable to maintain his balance, as the ship’s
thrusters pushed with a large acceleration.
“Whoa! What in the—what!?!” shouted
Brownbeard.
“I should have warned you to hold on!” said
Hazel. “This baby’s got some power!”
“Great work, Hazel,” said Wilbert in
admiration.
Brownbeard picked himself up off the deck.
Racing to the side of the For Sale, he looked down
to see the island and the mainland to the west
disappearing, replaced by the immense blue-green
ocean far below. Already, just seconds into the
launch, the white caps of the waves were just
specks upon the surface. Brownbeard fell
backwards again, a look of terror upon his face.
Hazel, Kumquat, Wilbert, and Schmoor laughed at
his antics. Brownbeard looked at his tormentors,
and shot an accusing gaze at Hazel. Somehow, he
managed to find his voice.
“What have you done to my ship?” he
demanded.
“Whatever do you mean?” asked Hazel
innocently.
“Stop it! Stop it!” shouted Brownbeard. “You
know very well what I mean. This—this—this is
not how a ship is supposed to sail! What’s wrong
with her?”
“Captain Brownbeard, this is how a ship is
supposed to sail. You just did not know it, but
now you do. We cannot go to Sa’Laam, or
anywhere interesting for that matter, sailing the
way by which you are accustomed. This is far
better. Why not sit back and enjoy the view? Very
few people from your time and space have ever
witnessed such things.”
“And they should thank the Lord for such
ignorance! This is too much Hazel! This is too
much! Take me back! I will not be part of this!
This cannot be any good!” screamed Brownbeard.
Hazel walked over to Brownbeard, put a hand
gently upon his arm, and whispered into his ear,
“Brownie, come with me for a moment.”
A trembling Brownbeard struggled to take hold
of Hazel’s arm as she walked him to the For Sale’
s stern. When they got to the rail, Hazel pointed
below and said, “Don’t be afraid Brownbeard.
Look. That’s your world. Is it not beautiful?”
Brownbeard looked down at a huge ball. It was
blue and green with swirls of puffy white laying
over it here and there. Brownbeard’s lower lip
quivered. His false eyebrow twitched. It was
beautiful as Hazel said, but things did not make
sense.
“That’s my world?” Brownbeard asked.
“Yes, but we are leaving it for a while. It is
beautiful, but there is more to the world than your
world. Our destiny lies in other places.”
The ball was getting rounder and rounder as
the For Sale raced further and further away from
it. Finally, the entire circumference of the ball was
visible.
“You mean I live on that ball?” Brownbeard
asked Hazel, pointing at the shimmering blue and
white jewel hanging in the middle of a sea of
black.
“Yes, Brownie. That is your home,” whispered
Hazel.
“It’s wonderful,” said Brownbeard, feeling a
twinge of sadness as the ball grew smaller and
smaller, and he thought that somewhere down
below were his mom and dad and cousin and
everyone else he had ever known.
“Yes, that’s the way you should feel about
home,” agreed Hazel. “Now follow me.”
Brownbeard took Hazel’s arm as she walked him
to the front of the ship. There, once again,
Brownbeard’s breath was taken away. The For
Sale was heading into a shimmering ocean of stars
twinkling icy blues and fiery reds, warm golds and
arctic silvers.
“Hang on!” shouted Kumquat. “Adjusting our
heading!”
Brownbeard and Hazel grabbed onto the rail as
the For Sale pulled up and to starboard, bringing a
river of milky white into view. Brownbeard
gasped.
“Is that where we’re going?” he asked, pointing
to the river before them.
“Yes and no. We are already there. That’s the
Milky Way. It’s like a huge wheel, and we live
inside that wheel. Our home is nearer the edge of
the wheel, and we’re heading closer towards the
center.”
Brownbeard did not say anything. It really didn’
t make a lot of sense to him. But it was a stunning
vision. He had seen the Milky Way before on
nights that were very dark and clear, but he never
knew it to look quite this way. It filled the entire
sky so as to make a ring around the For Sale.
Brownbeard walked around the deck, and saw the
Milky Way disappear below the ship. There, far
beneath the For Sale was the bright blue jewel that
was Brownbeard’s home, and far below that was
the bright, bright light of the Sun. It hurt
Brownbeard’s eyes. He looked away.
“Coordinates for our jump into hyperspace set,
Captain,” said Kumquat.
“What?” asked Brownbeard, turning to look at
the tiger-striped cat.
“We’re ready to jump into hyperspace on your
command,” said Kumquat.
“We’re ready to go really fast towards our
destination,” explained Hazel. “Just give the
word.”
“But first you’d best sit down,” warned
Kumquat. “Seeing how you managed with take-
off, this might knock you overboard.”
Brownbeard could hear laughter up above. It
was Wilbert cackling in the crow’s nest.
“Aye-Aye, Captain!” shouted down Wilbert.
“Hyperspace is a doozey!”
Schmoor smiled and shook his head in
vigorous agreement.
“Yes, I think I’ll sit for this as well,” said
Hazel.
Brownbeard, Hazel, and Schmoor sat upon a
bench on the upper deck to observe the For Sale’s
jump into hyperspace. Kumquat manned, or
catted, the helm. From his perch high above,
Wilbert kept an eye out for any danger abroad.
Wiggling in his seat in an effort to get secure and
comfortable, Brownbeard looked over to Kumquat.
“All right, Kumquat. Take us into this
hyperspace,” he said.
Kumquat pressed some buttons. She fiddled
with a compass, drawing circles on a map.
“Re-adjusting co-ordinates,” Kumquat
reported. “Hold one second. Quantum foam
multiplier activated. Beginning space fold.
Relativistic equation solver running. Hang tight.”
Brownbeard prepared to feel the rush of
acceleration in the same way when the For Sale
had lifted off from the lagoon. It was like that
somewhat, except with one very important
difference. Whereas from the lagoon the For Sale
had shot up first making Brownbeard’s knees
buckle, and next thrust forward pushing him back
onto his behind, this time he was pushed and
pulled in all directions simultaneously. In one
instant he was squashed into a tiny ball of dough
and stretched into a thin sheet. In one moment he
wanted to fall over backwards and topple onto his
face. He sensed he was being smashed into the
floor right through the bottom of the For Sale
while also being snatched up, up and away straight
off the deck. These feelings were very
uncomfortable, and very confusing. Brownbeard
was sure something had gone terribly wrong.
There was no way the For Sale and its crew were
heading anywhere. Rather, the ship was being
smashed into smithereens and he and his crew
were all about to perish. Slowly, the discomfort
and bizarre sensations ceased. Long streaks of
light were drawn across the sky, radiating out from
an invisible point somewhere in front of the For
Sale. Brownbeard stood up.
“We’re on the access ramp to Interstellar
Route 66,” announced Kumquat.
“That’s where I get my kicks,” giggled Wilbert.
“Then we should be there in roughly thirty
minutes by our clock, right?” asked Hazel.
“If this map from the Space Sojourners Society
is correct, then yes,” answered Kumquat. She then
looked to port. “Let’s see if this guy is going to let
us in. C’mon! C’mon! Oh, nuts! Schmoor, let down
the sails a bit, this guy is not going to let us in.
Why are they in the far right lane?”
Brownbeard looked to port. There, along the
hyperspace highway known as Interstellar Route
66, were hundreds and hundreds of ships of all
shapes and sizes. There were huge galleys unlike
any Brownbeard had ever seen before. Some were
bigger than a hundred For Sale’s lined end to end.
There were tiny row boats with just one or two
occupants. The boats and ships zigged and zagged
around one another at break-neck speed. It was
quite a sight.
A rather large war ship of Spanish looking
origin blocked the For Sale’s entrance onto the
main thoroughfare. As it whizzed by, Kumquat
deftly pulled the For Sale onto the highway and
joined the mad rush of ships heading to various
destinations throughout the Milky Way.
“We didn’t plan our departure time very well,”
Wilbert mused from up in the crow’s nest. “This
is peak rush hour.”
“There is no good time to get on I-66
anymore,” said Hazel. “It’s always like this.”
“No, sometimes it doesn’t move at all,” said
Kumquat. “At least were moving. Everyone better
have their seat belts on.”
“Kumquat, can you get over into the High
Occupancy Ship lane?” asked Hazel.
“I’ll try.”
Gradually, Kumquat guided the For Sale over
to the far left lane.
“Hey, look at these folks!” shouted Wilbert.
“All these lone rowers in the H.O.S. lane!”
“Only ships with two or more occupants are
supposed to be in the H.O.S. lane,” Hazel
explained to a dumfounded Brownbeard.
Further to port, beyond the H.O.S. lane, was a
river of ships heading in the other direction.
“This is just one of many highways making up
the Interstellar Route System,” Hazel informed
Brownbeard. “It’s really a remarkable
achievement, as one may safely journey at faster
than light speeds without worrying about smacking
into an uncharted brown dwarf or wayward black
hole. Of course, since everything in the Milky
Way is in constant flux, it’s not uncommon for
construction delays to jam traffic from one side of
the Galaxy to the other. I’d say we’re lucky to be
making such good time.”
“Oh,” said Brownbeard. That was all he could
manage to say, which was quite a lot considering
how shocking all of this was to his psyche. To
discover that the world is so much vaster and
more complicated than you ever suspected is
never an easy morsel to swallow, no matter if the
taste may be delicious.
“Uh-oh! I think you spoke to soon, Hazel,” said
Wilbert from the crow’s nest. “Looks like a space
jam just ahead.”
“Nuts!” said Kumquat.
Schmoor smacked his forehead in dismay.
Hazel sighed. Brownbeard fell onto his face as the
For Sale came to a sudden stop, nearly running
over a tiny row boat. From behind, Brownbeard
heard hundreds of voices screaming as a huge ship
came to a grinding halt, approaching to within a
clam’s width of ramming the For Sale.
“What is that?” asked Brownbeard.
“Oh, that’s a cruise ship,” said Hazel.
“That’s not like any cruise ship I’ve ever
seen,” replied Brownbeard.
“It’s not from your time, Brownie. In a few
hundred years on your world, you’ll see them.
They’re fantastic. Hundreds of people can play
shuffleboard on their decks at the same time. You
can have shuffleboard tournaments!” said Hazel.
“Hmmm, Lloyd would enjoy that,” said
Brownbeard.
“They’ve got great entertainment,” added
Wilbert. “Magicians, comedians, dance bands,
mimes—”
“Wow, that sounds incredible—except for the
mimes,” said Brownbeard. He looked up at the
deck far above. There were several people
looking over and down at him. They waved.
Brownbeard waved back.
“Where are you going?” shouted a man from
the deck above.
“Sa’Laam,” answered Brownbeard.
“Oh, wow! We’re going to stop there too. Are
you going to see The Emperor?”
“Uh? I don’t know,” answered Brownbeard, not
wanting to give away their plan.
“Yes, of course we are,” answered Hazel. “We’
ve heard he’s great.”
“He is! He is! We’ve seen him once before,
when he first became Emperor,” said a woman
next to the man. “He is truly amazing!”
“So we’ve heard. Maybe we’ll see you there,”
said Hazel.
“Sounds great! We’ll look for you,” said the
man.
“Good!” said Hazel waving.
“How can we just expect to go and see The
Emperor like that?” asked Brownbeard.
“Just wait. You’ll see,” answered Hazel.
Going then stopping, stopping then going, the
For Sale crawled towards the exit for the Atrion
solar system, home of the planet upon which The
Empire of Sa’Laam reigned supreme. What should
have been a half-an-hour trip turned into an hour-
and-a-half. Still, though the going was slow, they
were making better time than the ships not in the H.
O.S. lane.
“All right, our exit is coming up,” said
Kumquat. “Let’s see if we can get over.”
Now looking to starboard, Kumquat hissed and
spat as she tried to guide the For Sale over to the
right.
“Can you help me out, Schmoor?” asked
Kumquat.
Schmoor headed to the starboard side of the
ship and, leaning over, held his right hand out,
trying to persuade someone to let the For Sale
over into the adjacent lane. But a ship with the
name Sub-Universal Vampire emblazoned on its
hull drew alongside the For Sale and blocked the
way.
“Hey!” shouted Kumquat to the steersman of
the other ship, “What’s the big deal? Why don’t
you let us over?”
“Kumquat,” cautioned Hazel, “Watch your
temper.”
“Come on, Hazel!” protested Kumquat. “There’
s no reason they can’t let us over.”
Lowering his cell phone for a moment, the man
guiding the Sub-Universal Vampire looked over
and shouted back, “I don’t gotta let you over!”
“No! Of course you don’t!” shouted Kumquat.
“Only if you were a nice guy and not a bonzo
bean!”
“Kumquat!” said Hazel, trying not to raise her
own voice. “Control your anger, please. Let’s not
get us all killed.”
“Hey listen fur-ball!” shouted the man. “I’ve
been stuck in this traffic just as long as you have,
and I gotta get home to see my family! You think
you can get in the H.O.S. lane and just cruise past
all of this traffic and then zip on in front of me?
Well forget it!”
“Number one, no one is cruising past anyone in
this traffic! And number two, if you had a
passenger, not only would you be in the H.O.S.
lane like us, but you’d be conserving the valuable
hyperspace energy that we all need!” said
Kumquat.
“Don’t lecture me fur-ball! Why don’t you
mind your own business!” shouted the man. With
that, the Sub-Universal Vampire slowly passed the
For Sale without letting them over.
“And number three, I’m a cat, not a fur-ball
you—you—selfish hyperspace hogging horse
head!” shouted Kumquat.
Hazel buried her face in her hands murmuring,
“Kumquat, Kumquat, Kumquat—You’re going to
get us boarded one of these days! You’re going to
get in a shouting match with the wrong ship and
we’re going to have a lot of trouble.”
Wilbert was laughing from above in the crow’s
nest. “Hee-hee-hee! Hyperspace hogging horse
head? That’s a good one fur-ball!”
“If I were you, I’d stay up in that nest of yours
troll,” hissed Kumquat.
“Hazel, I’d like to up my contribution to the
Kumquat Anger Management Fund,” said Wilbert.
“I think our kitty needs some remedial classes.”
“Just please you two! Kumquat, why don’t you
see if you can get off at our exit without getting us
killed,” said Hazel. “Is that too much to ask?”
Schmoor continued to wave, trying to persuade
someone to let them over. Eventually, another ship
did let them in.
“Thank-you!” waved Kumquat.
Slowly, the For Sale made its way over to the
exit, just as the traffic began to break up.
“Look at that!” shouted Wilbert. “There was a
ship wreck going the other way on I-66.”
“I hope no one was hurt,” said Hazel.
Schmoor drew the sails in to slow the For Sale
as all the ships passing the wreck took a gander at
the accident. Leaving the hyperspace highway,
Kumquat announced that everyone should brace
themselves for completion of the space fold, or
rather a space unfold. Once again, Brownbeard
was subjected to immense discomfort as his
insides and outsides were pushed and pulled in all
directions. It was like really bad indigestion that
didn’t stop at the tummy.
As the discomfort passed and they came out of
hyperspace, the other ships that had surrounded
them were no longer visible. Instead, there were
stars all over just as there had been before they
jumped onto Interstellar Route 66. Slowly, one
star began to grow brighter and brighter, until
finally its glare was ferocious.
“Kumquat, flare the ship so that the light isn’t
so bright,” said Brownbeard.
“Aye, Aye, Captain.”
Kumquat pulled the front of the ship up so that
the star they approached was hidden from view.
The For Sale cruised like this for just a short
while when Kumquat announced she would have
to lower the ship’s front so that she could see
where they were going on final approach, and that
everyone should shield their eyes. The star came
blazing into full view. Brownbeard covered his
eyes and looked down, but he could still see light.
His eyes were filled with the color red as the
intense star shine passed through his fingers and
eyelids. Then he fell over to his right as Kumquat
banked the For Sale into a steep left turn. Slowly
the light dimmed and Brownbeard looked up.
There, before the ship was a beautiful blue and
white orb shimmering in the nothingness of space.
“Beautiful, isn’t it Captain?” asked Wilbert.
“Yes, but it looks just like where we came
from,” replied Brownbeard.
“It does, indeed,” said Hazel, “but it is not.
Though don’t get the impression beautiful homes
like yours are common. In fact, at any given
instant in the galaxy, there might only be three or
four that are alive and colorful like the one before
us. They take ages to become beautiful like this.
Then, after they live for a time, they die.”
“Die?”
“That’s usually their fate.”
“How does a home die?”
“Well, in some cases the homeowners kill their
home. Like setting your own house on fire. In
other cases, the home is destroyed by a wayward
asteroid or a nearby exploding star. Still others,
well, their systems get old and inefficient, and the
homeowners, if they can’t renovate their home,
they’ve got to move if they can.”
Brownbeard thought about this. Then he
commented, “But I thought you said there are
zillions of civilizations throughout the Universe.”
“There are,” said Hazel.
“But how can there be if there are only three or
four of these homes in the Milky Way galaxy?”
“Well, for one thing, not every home is a
beautiful blue-green like your home. In fact, there
are folks who could not live at all on a blue-green.
It’s either too cold, or too hot, or they don’t like
water or the kind of air we breathe. And another
thing is that there are trillions of other galaxies
throughout the Universe besides the Milky Way.
Also, not all of the civilizations and beings in this
Universe occupy the same place in time that we
are in at this moment. Not to mention the other
universes and realms of existence that fill all of
Creation.”
“Oh,” said Brownbeard.
Hazel had already told him this, but it was a
lot of information to digest. It was like trying to
drink water from a fire hose on full blast.
Meanwhile, this new blue-green orb that grew and
grew before them now filled the entire sky. Puffy
white clouds spiraled and stretched across the
surface.
“Hold on,” said Kumquat as she rolled the For
Sale and then flared it steeply, pulling the front of
the ship high into the sky.
The edges of the ship began to glow orange-
red, and it became very hot.
“Wilbert and Schmoor!” yelled Kumquat,
“You better have glued those heat shielding tiles
on good, or were all going to be baked!”
“Relax, you crazy cat! We took care of
everything,” Wilbert yelled down from the crow’s
nest. “We did get everything, right Schmoor?”
Schmoor shrugged his shoulder as if to say he
hoped so. The heat grew and grew, and the air
around the edges of the ship seemed to catch fire.
“Oh, my!” gasped Brownbeard. This did not
look good. He looked over to Hazel to see her
reaction. She looked sort of calm, but Brownbeard
thought he detected a bit of apprehension. Beads
of sweat lined her lovely forehead. Brownbeard
wiped at his own dripping locks. Kumquat was
panting. Schmoor was furiously waving a paper
fan to keep cool.
“Wilbert! I’ve never felt this much heat
before!” wailed Kumquat.
“We’re going to be fine,” Wilbert yelled back.
“You did seem to finish everything rather
quickly,” gasped Hazel.
“I tell you, we’re going to be fine. Relax!
Relax!” screamed Wilbert.
Brownbeard sat down on the deck and took off
his jacket. This was ridiculous. He was dressed in
full captain’s regalia. He was simmering.
“Can we turn around?” he asked.
“No! We’ll definitely burn up if we do that.
There’s no turning back now. We’ve got to push
on through,” said Hazel, as she slowly sat down.
She looked a bit faint. A wooden rail on the port
side began to smoke. Then one on the starboard
side began to smoke.
“Wilbert! Schmoor! We’re going to die!”
shrieked Kumquat.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” cried Wilbert.
“We did everything right!”
Schmoor was running in circles frantically. His
paper fan had burst into flame, but he was still
trying to flap it to cool himself.
“Drop the fan, you dolt!” shouted Kumquat.
Which Schmoor did, and now the fan was
burning on the wooden deck.
“Don’t drop the fan on the deck!” screamed
Kumquat.
Schmoor jumped up and down frantically, not
sure what to do.
“Hazel! Can’t you do something?” Brownbeard
asked.
Hazel was fading fast in the heat. She was
about to pass out.
“Maybe in the ice—in the water—in the ice—I
like mice—with fried rice,” was Hazel’s
incoherent reply.
Brownbeard was tearing off the burning hot
fabric of his clothing. But the deck and bench
beneath him felt like a frying pan too. He jumped
and wriggled around in agony, not sure what to do.
“Eeech! Ouch! Aaaahh! Aaaahh!” he yelled.
This yelling was joined by Wilbert and
Kumquat who were in the same predicament as
he. They were being roasted! Schmoor just ran in
faster and faster, tighter and tighter circles about
the burning fan. But when the sock on top of his
head began to smoke, he stopped and started
jumping up and down. Schmoor smacked himself
repeatedly upon the head, trying to keep his sock
from catching fire.
And then, just as all the boards of the For Sale
were about to reach their flash point and the ship
turn into a giant ball of fire, the flames around the
side of the ship died down, and slowly, very
slowly, the heat began to subside. Blustery, rainy
winds came up and blew out the fires aboard the
For Sale. A mad Kumquat with singed fur guided
the ship for a safe landing in the middle of a large
body of water. There was no land in sight. Rain
drizzled down from a slate sky.
Hazel slowly came to. Schmoor sat upon the
deck looking dazed. Then he felt at the sock atop
his head and yanked it off. He inspected it. There
were some singe marks upon it, but deciding it
wasn’t in too bad shape, he place it back atop his
head and smiled contentedly.
“Get down here you—you—treacherous troll,”
hissed Kumquat.
“Look, I don’t know what happened,” said
Wilbert, “but keep your claws to yourself cat!”
“If any of my squirrels or chipmunks or other
pets are hurt, you will regret it!”
“Enough! Enough!” shouted Brownbeard. “We’
re alive, let’s just be grateful for that. It looks like
were going to need to fix some things as soon as
we can. So let’s calm down and figure out where
we are and where we’re going.”
Brownbeard looked at Hazel. She was awake,
but still dazed.
“Floor-Zar,” she said.
“She’s still delirious,” said Brownbeard.
“No, Floor-Zar. I gave Wilbert my Floor-Zar
card to go get supplies before you got to the sand
castle. I wanted to save money. I’ll bet it was their
heat shielding tiles. Half of what they sell was
manufactured in Ningapoo. Ningapoo is fine for
fusion powered out-houses, laser guided underarm
deodorant, and cheese, but you have just seen how
well their heat shielding tiles perform. From now
on, we get our tiles from Ludwig at Ye Olde Gift
Shoppe, just like we used to.”
Wilbert came down from the crow’s nest.
Hazel’s explanation of why they had nearly fried
should have let Wilbert off the hook, but Kumquat
still glared at him. Wilbert pretended not to notice.
The five voyagers sat upon the scorched deck of
the For Sale as it rocked in the waves. Each
savored the cool rain which showered them.
“I’m hungry,” Brownbeard finally said.
“Yes, let’s eat,” said Hazel.
Everyone agreed this was a good idea. So,
before any further important decisions were to be
made, it was first decided to have a spot of lunch.
Putting the For Sale on autosail, the crew
disappeared below to enjoy Wilbert’s culinary
wizardry. At the dining table Schmoor began to
jump up and down, frantically pointing at
something.
“What is it, Schmoor?” asked Brownbeard,
turning to look at what the car-key-turned-sock-
gremlin was pointing. It was a video monitor
assisting the crew to keep watch on the For Sale
via cameras placed around the ship. The monitor’s
screen flashed between different views.
“Oh! No!” cried everyone as they watched.
Water was beginning to pour into several of
the lower rooms of the ship. The For Sale was
sinking.
* * *
Meanwhile, a small sleek skiff skillfully
weaved through the traffic on Interstellar Route
66, seeking the Atrion solar system. Well, maybe
not so skillfully. At its helm was a tall, dark figure
cloaked in black. From underneath its hood was
the grimly smiling demeanor of a pale skull. To
starboard was the other black-clad skeleton,
waving frantically, trying to get someone to let
them over before missing their exit.
poured over charts and fiddled over a device
covered with knobs and switches.
“Sails set, Captain, and all equipment stowed,”
said Wilbert.
The four crew members of the For Sale looked
at Brownbeard expectantly.
“Weigh anchor, Schmoor!” said Brownbeard.
“Take this ship to Sa’Laam, Kumquat!”
With that, the For Sale blasted out of the lagoon
behind Hazel’s sand castle, cruising just inches
above the tree tops before Kumquat eased the
ship into a steady climb. Brownbeard fell upon his
rear, unable to maintain his balance, as the ship’s
thrusters pushed with a large acceleration.
“Whoa! What in the—what!?!” shouted
Brownbeard.
“I should have warned you to hold on!” said
Hazel. “This baby’s got some power!”
“Great work, Hazel,” said Wilbert in
admiration.
Brownbeard picked himself up off the deck.
Racing to the side of the For Sale, he looked down
to see the island and the mainland to the west
disappearing, replaced by the immense blue-green
ocean far below. Already, just seconds into the
launch, the white caps of the waves were just
specks upon the surface. Brownbeard fell
backwards again, a look of terror upon his face.
Hazel, Kumquat, Wilbert, and Schmoor laughed at
his antics. Brownbeard looked at his tormentors,
and shot an accusing gaze at Hazel. Somehow, he
managed to find his voice.
“What have you done to my ship?” he
demanded.
“Whatever do you mean?” asked Hazel
innocently.
“Stop it! Stop it!” shouted Brownbeard. “You
know very well what I mean. This—this—this is
not how a ship is supposed to sail! What’s wrong
with her?”
“Captain Brownbeard, this is how a ship is
supposed to sail. You just did not know it, but
now you do. We cannot go to Sa’Laam, or
anywhere interesting for that matter, sailing the
way by which you are accustomed. This is far
better. Why not sit back and enjoy the view? Very
few people from your time and space have ever
witnessed such things.”
“And they should thank the Lord for such
ignorance! This is too much Hazel! This is too
much! Take me back! I will not be part of this!
This cannot be any good!” screamed Brownbeard.
Hazel walked over to Brownbeard, put a hand
gently upon his arm, and whispered into his ear,
“Brownie, come with me for a moment.”
A trembling Brownbeard struggled to take hold
of Hazel’s arm as she walked him to the For Sale’
s stern. When they got to the rail, Hazel pointed
below and said, “Don’t be afraid Brownbeard.
Look. That’s your world. Is it not beautiful?”
Brownbeard looked down at a huge ball. It was
blue and green with swirls of puffy white laying
over it here and there. Brownbeard’s lower lip
quivered. His false eyebrow twitched. It was
beautiful as Hazel said, but things did not make
sense.
“That’s my world?” Brownbeard asked.
“Yes, but we are leaving it for a while. It is
beautiful, but there is more to the world than your
world. Our destiny lies in other places.”
The ball was getting rounder and rounder as
the For Sale raced further and further away from
it. Finally, the entire circumference of the ball was
visible.
“You mean I live on that ball?” Brownbeard
asked Hazel, pointing at the shimmering blue and
white jewel hanging in the middle of a sea of
black.
“Yes, Brownie. That is your home,” whispered
Hazel.
“It’s wonderful,” said Brownbeard, feeling a
twinge of sadness as the ball grew smaller and
smaller, and he thought that somewhere down
below were his mom and dad and cousin and
everyone else he had ever known.
“Yes, that’s the way you should feel about
home,” agreed Hazel. “Now follow me.”
Brownbeard took Hazel’s arm as she walked him
to the front of the ship. There, once again,
Brownbeard’s breath was taken away. The For
Sale was heading into a shimmering ocean of stars
twinkling icy blues and fiery reds, warm golds and
arctic silvers.
“Hang on!” shouted Kumquat. “Adjusting our
heading!”
Brownbeard and Hazel grabbed onto the rail as
the For Sale pulled up and to starboard, bringing a
river of milky white into view. Brownbeard
gasped.
“Is that where we’re going?” he asked, pointing
to the river before them.
“Yes and no. We are already there. That’s the
Milky Way. It’s like a huge wheel, and we live
inside that wheel. Our home is nearer the edge of
the wheel, and we’re heading closer towards the
center.”
Brownbeard did not say anything. It really didn’
t make a lot of sense to him. But it was a stunning
vision. He had seen the Milky Way before on
nights that were very dark and clear, but he never
knew it to look quite this way. It filled the entire
sky so as to make a ring around the For Sale.
Brownbeard walked around the deck, and saw the
Milky Way disappear below the ship. There, far
beneath the For Sale was the bright blue jewel that
was Brownbeard’s home, and far below that was
the bright, bright light of the Sun. It hurt
Brownbeard’s eyes. He looked away.
“Coordinates for our jump into hyperspace set,
Captain,” said Kumquat.
“What?” asked Brownbeard, turning to look at
the tiger-striped cat.
“We’re ready to jump into hyperspace on your
command,” said Kumquat.
“We’re ready to go really fast towards our
destination,” explained Hazel. “Just give the
word.”
“But first you’d best sit down,” warned
Kumquat. “Seeing how you managed with take-
off, this might knock you overboard.”
Brownbeard could hear laughter up above. It
was Wilbert cackling in the crow’s nest.
“Aye-Aye, Captain!” shouted down Wilbert.
“Hyperspace is a doozey!”
Schmoor smiled and shook his head in
vigorous agreement.
“Yes, I think I’ll sit for this as well,” said
Hazel.
Brownbeard, Hazel, and Schmoor sat upon a
bench on the upper deck to observe the For Sale’s
jump into hyperspace. Kumquat manned, or
catted, the helm. From his perch high above,
Wilbert kept an eye out for any danger abroad.
Wiggling in his seat in an effort to get secure and
comfortable, Brownbeard looked over to Kumquat.
“All right, Kumquat. Take us into this
hyperspace,” he said.
Kumquat pressed some buttons. She fiddled
with a compass, drawing circles on a map.
“Re-adjusting co-ordinates,” Kumquat
reported. “Hold one second. Quantum foam
multiplier activated. Beginning space fold.
Relativistic equation solver running. Hang tight.”
Brownbeard prepared to feel the rush of
acceleration in the same way when the For Sale
had lifted off from the lagoon. It was like that
somewhat, except with one very important
difference. Whereas from the lagoon the For Sale
had shot up first making Brownbeard’s knees
buckle, and next thrust forward pushing him back
onto his behind, this time he was pushed and
pulled in all directions simultaneously. In one
instant he was squashed into a tiny ball of dough
and stretched into a thin sheet. In one moment he
wanted to fall over backwards and topple onto his
face. He sensed he was being smashed into the
floor right through the bottom of the For Sale
while also being snatched up, up and away straight
off the deck. These feelings were very
uncomfortable, and very confusing. Brownbeard
was sure something had gone terribly wrong.
There was no way the For Sale and its crew were
heading anywhere. Rather, the ship was being
smashed into smithereens and he and his crew
were all about to perish. Slowly, the discomfort
and bizarre sensations ceased. Long streaks of
light were drawn across the sky, radiating out from
an invisible point somewhere in front of the For
Sale. Brownbeard stood up.
“We’re on the access ramp to Interstellar
Route 66,” announced Kumquat.
“That’s where I get my kicks,” giggled Wilbert.
“Then we should be there in roughly thirty
minutes by our clock, right?” asked Hazel.
“If this map from the Space Sojourners Society
is correct, then yes,” answered Kumquat. She then
looked to port. “Let’s see if this guy is going to let
us in. C’mon! C’mon! Oh, nuts! Schmoor, let down
the sails a bit, this guy is not going to let us in.
Why are they in the far right lane?”
Brownbeard looked to port. There, along the
hyperspace highway known as Interstellar Route
66, were hundreds and hundreds of ships of all
shapes and sizes. There were huge galleys unlike
any Brownbeard had ever seen before. Some were
bigger than a hundred For Sale’s lined end to end.
There were tiny row boats with just one or two
occupants. The boats and ships zigged and zagged
around one another at break-neck speed. It was
quite a sight.
A rather large war ship of Spanish looking
origin blocked the For Sale’s entrance onto the
main thoroughfare. As it whizzed by, Kumquat
deftly pulled the For Sale onto the highway and
joined the mad rush of ships heading to various
destinations throughout the Milky Way.
“We didn’t plan our departure time very well,”
Wilbert mused from up in the crow’s nest. “This
is peak rush hour.”
“There is no good time to get on I-66
anymore,” said Hazel. “It’s always like this.”
“No, sometimes it doesn’t move at all,” said
Kumquat. “At least were moving. Everyone better
have their seat belts on.”
“Kumquat, can you get over into the High
Occupancy Ship lane?” asked Hazel.
“I’ll try.”
Gradually, Kumquat guided the For Sale over
to the far left lane.
“Hey, look at these folks!” shouted Wilbert.
“All these lone rowers in the H.O.S. lane!”
“Only ships with two or more occupants are
supposed to be in the H.O.S. lane,” Hazel
explained to a dumfounded Brownbeard.
Further to port, beyond the H.O.S. lane, was a
river of ships heading in the other direction.
“This is just one of many highways making up
the Interstellar Route System,” Hazel informed
Brownbeard. “It’s really a remarkable
achievement, as one may safely journey at faster
than light speeds without worrying about smacking
into an uncharted brown dwarf or wayward black
hole. Of course, since everything in the Milky
Way is in constant flux, it’s not uncommon for
construction delays to jam traffic from one side of
the Galaxy to the other. I’d say we’re lucky to be
making such good time.”
“Oh,” said Brownbeard. That was all he could
manage to say, which was quite a lot considering
how shocking all of this was to his psyche. To
discover that the world is so much vaster and
more complicated than you ever suspected is
never an easy morsel to swallow, no matter if the
taste may be delicious.
“Uh-oh! I think you spoke to soon, Hazel,” said
Wilbert from the crow’s nest. “Looks like a space
jam just ahead.”
“Nuts!” said Kumquat.
Schmoor smacked his forehead in dismay.
Hazel sighed. Brownbeard fell onto his face as the
For Sale came to a sudden stop, nearly running
over a tiny row boat. From behind, Brownbeard
heard hundreds of voices screaming as a huge ship
came to a grinding halt, approaching to within a
clam’s width of ramming the For Sale.
“What is that?” asked Brownbeard.
“Oh, that’s a cruise ship,” said Hazel.
“That’s not like any cruise ship I’ve ever
seen,” replied Brownbeard.
“It’s not from your time, Brownie. In a few
hundred years on your world, you’ll see them.
They’re fantastic. Hundreds of people can play
shuffleboard on their decks at the same time. You
can have shuffleboard tournaments!” said Hazel.
“Hmmm, Lloyd would enjoy that,” said
Brownbeard.
“They’ve got great entertainment,” added
Wilbert. “Magicians, comedians, dance bands,
mimes—”
“Wow, that sounds incredible—except for the
mimes,” said Brownbeard. He looked up at the
deck far above. There were several people
looking over and down at him. They waved.
Brownbeard waved back.
“Where are you going?” shouted a man from
the deck above.
“Sa’Laam,” answered Brownbeard.
“Oh, wow! We’re going to stop there too. Are
you going to see The Emperor?”
“Uh? I don’t know,” answered Brownbeard, not
wanting to give away their plan.
“Yes, of course we are,” answered Hazel. “We’
ve heard he’s great.”
“He is! He is! We’ve seen him once before,
when he first became Emperor,” said a woman
next to the man. “He is truly amazing!”
“So we’ve heard. Maybe we’ll see you there,”
said Hazel.
“Sounds great! We’ll look for you,” said the
man.
“Good!” said Hazel waving.
“How can we just expect to go and see The
Emperor like that?” asked Brownbeard.
“Just wait. You’ll see,” answered Hazel.
Going then stopping, stopping then going, the
For Sale crawled towards the exit for the Atrion
solar system, home of the planet upon which The
Empire of Sa’Laam reigned supreme. What should
have been a half-an-hour trip turned into an hour-
and-a-half. Still, though the going was slow, they
were making better time than the ships not in the H.
O.S. lane.
“All right, our exit is coming up,” said
Kumquat. “Let’s see if we can get over.”
Now looking to starboard, Kumquat hissed and
spat as she tried to guide the For Sale over to the
right.
“Can you help me out, Schmoor?” asked
Kumquat.
Schmoor headed to the starboard side of the
ship and, leaning over, held his right hand out,
trying to persuade someone to let the For Sale
over into the adjacent lane. But a ship with the
name Sub-Universal Vampire emblazoned on its
hull drew alongside the For Sale and blocked the
way.
“Hey!” shouted Kumquat to the steersman of
the other ship, “What’s the big deal? Why don’t
you let us over?”
“Kumquat,” cautioned Hazel, “Watch your
temper.”
“Come on, Hazel!” protested Kumquat. “There’
s no reason they can’t let us over.”
Lowering his cell phone for a moment, the man
guiding the Sub-Universal Vampire looked over
and shouted back, “I don’t gotta let you over!”
“No! Of course you don’t!” shouted Kumquat.
“Only if you were a nice guy and not a bonzo
bean!”
“Kumquat!” said Hazel, trying not to raise her
own voice. “Control your anger, please. Let’s not
get us all killed.”
“Hey listen fur-ball!” shouted the man. “I’ve
been stuck in this traffic just as long as you have,
and I gotta get home to see my family! You think
you can get in the H.O.S. lane and just cruise past
all of this traffic and then zip on in front of me?
Well forget it!”
“Number one, no one is cruising past anyone in
this traffic! And number two, if you had a
passenger, not only would you be in the H.O.S.
lane like us, but you’d be conserving the valuable
hyperspace energy that we all need!” said
Kumquat.
“Don’t lecture me fur-ball! Why don’t you
mind your own business!” shouted the man. With
that, the Sub-Universal Vampire slowly passed the
For Sale without letting them over.
“And number three, I’m a cat, not a fur-ball
you—you—selfish hyperspace hogging horse
head!” shouted Kumquat.
Hazel buried her face in her hands murmuring,
“Kumquat, Kumquat, Kumquat—You’re going to
get us boarded one of these days! You’re going to
get in a shouting match with the wrong ship and
we’re going to have a lot of trouble.”
Wilbert was laughing from above in the crow’s
nest. “Hee-hee-hee! Hyperspace hogging horse
head? That’s a good one fur-ball!”
“If I were you, I’d stay up in that nest of yours
troll,” hissed Kumquat.
“Hazel, I’d like to up my contribution to the
Kumquat Anger Management Fund,” said Wilbert.
“I think our kitty needs some remedial classes.”
“Just please you two! Kumquat, why don’t you
see if you can get off at our exit without getting us
killed,” said Hazel. “Is that too much to ask?”
Schmoor continued to wave, trying to persuade
someone to let them over. Eventually, another ship
did let them in.
“Thank-you!” waved Kumquat.
Slowly, the For Sale made its way over to the
exit, just as the traffic began to break up.
“Look at that!” shouted Wilbert. “There was a
ship wreck going the other way on I-66.”
“I hope no one was hurt,” said Hazel.
Schmoor drew the sails in to slow the For Sale
as all the ships passing the wreck took a gander at
the accident. Leaving the hyperspace highway,
Kumquat announced that everyone should brace
themselves for completion of the space fold, or
rather a space unfold. Once again, Brownbeard
was subjected to immense discomfort as his
insides and outsides were pushed and pulled in all
directions. It was like really bad indigestion that
didn’t stop at the tummy.
As the discomfort passed and they came out of
hyperspace, the other ships that had surrounded
them were no longer visible. Instead, there were
stars all over just as there had been before they
jumped onto Interstellar Route 66. Slowly, one
star began to grow brighter and brighter, until
finally its glare was ferocious.
“Kumquat, flare the ship so that the light isn’t
so bright,” said Brownbeard.
“Aye, Aye, Captain.”
Kumquat pulled the front of the ship up so that
the star they approached was hidden from view.
The For Sale cruised like this for just a short
while when Kumquat announced she would have
to lower the ship’s front so that she could see
where they were going on final approach, and that
everyone should shield their eyes. The star came
blazing into full view. Brownbeard covered his
eyes and looked down, but he could still see light.
His eyes were filled with the color red as the
intense star shine passed through his fingers and
eyelids. Then he fell over to his right as Kumquat
banked the For Sale into a steep left turn. Slowly
the light dimmed and Brownbeard looked up.
There, before the ship was a beautiful blue and
white orb shimmering in the nothingness of space.
“Beautiful, isn’t it Captain?” asked Wilbert.
“Yes, but it looks just like where we came
from,” replied Brownbeard.
“It does, indeed,” said Hazel, “but it is not.
Though don’t get the impression beautiful homes
like yours are common. In fact, at any given
instant in the galaxy, there might only be three or
four that are alive and colorful like the one before
us. They take ages to become beautiful like this.
Then, after they live for a time, they die.”
“Die?”
“That’s usually their fate.”
“How does a home die?”
“Well, in some cases the homeowners kill their
home. Like setting your own house on fire. In
other cases, the home is destroyed by a wayward
asteroid or a nearby exploding star. Still others,
well, their systems get old and inefficient, and the
homeowners, if they can’t renovate their home,
they’ve got to move if they can.”
Brownbeard thought about this. Then he
commented, “But I thought you said there are
zillions of civilizations throughout the Universe.”
“There are,” said Hazel.
“But how can there be if there are only three or
four of these homes in the Milky Way galaxy?”
“Well, for one thing, not every home is a
beautiful blue-green like your home. In fact, there
are folks who could not live at all on a blue-green.
It’s either too cold, or too hot, or they don’t like
water or the kind of air we breathe. And another
thing is that there are trillions of other galaxies
throughout the Universe besides the Milky Way.
Also, not all of the civilizations and beings in this
Universe occupy the same place in time that we
are in at this moment. Not to mention the other
universes and realms of existence that fill all of
Creation.”
“Oh,” said Brownbeard.
Hazel had already told him this, but it was a
lot of information to digest. It was like trying to
drink water from a fire hose on full blast.
Meanwhile, this new blue-green orb that grew and
grew before them now filled the entire sky. Puffy
white clouds spiraled and stretched across the
surface.
“Hold on,” said Kumquat as she rolled the For
Sale and then flared it steeply, pulling the front of
the ship high into the sky.
The edges of the ship began to glow orange-
red, and it became very hot.
“Wilbert and Schmoor!” yelled Kumquat,
“You better have glued those heat shielding tiles
on good, or were all going to be baked!”
“Relax, you crazy cat! We took care of
everything,” Wilbert yelled down from the crow’s
nest. “We did get everything, right Schmoor?”
Schmoor shrugged his shoulder as if to say he
hoped so. The heat grew and grew, and the air
around the edges of the ship seemed to catch fire.
“Oh, my!” gasped Brownbeard. This did not
look good. He looked over to Hazel to see her
reaction. She looked sort of calm, but Brownbeard
thought he detected a bit of apprehension. Beads
of sweat lined her lovely forehead. Brownbeard
wiped at his own dripping locks. Kumquat was
panting. Schmoor was furiously waving a paper
fan to keep cool.
“Wilbert! I’ve never felt this much heat
before!” wailed Kumquat.
“We’re going to be fine,” Wilbert yelled back.
“You did seem to finish everything rather
quickly,” gasped Hazel.
“I tell you, we’re going to be fine. Relax!
Relax!” screamed Wilbert.
Brownbeard sat down on the deck and took off
his jacket. This was ridiculous. He was dressed in
full captain’s regalia. He was simmering.
“Can we turn around?” he asked.
“No! We’ll definitely burn up if we do that.
There’s no turning back now. We’ve got to push
on through,” said Hazel, as she slowly sat down.
She looked a bit faint. A wooden rail on the port
side began to smoke. Then one on the starboard
side began to smoke.
“Wilbert! Schmoor! We’re going to die!”
shrieked Kumquat.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” cried Wilbert.
“We did everything right!”
Schmoor was running in circles frantically. His
paper fan had burst into flame, but he was still
trying to flap it to cool himself.
“Drop the fan, you dolt!” shouted Kumquat.
Which Schmoor did, and now the fan was
burning on the wooden deck.
“Don’t drop the fan on the deck!” screamed
Kumquat.
Schmoor jumped up and down frantically, not
sure what to do.
“Hazel! Can’t you do something?” Brownbeard
asked.
Hazel was fading fast in the heat. She was
about to pass out.
“Maybe in the ice—in the water—in the ice—I
like mice—with fried rice,” was Hazel’s
incoherent reply.
Brownbeard was tearing off the burning hot
fabric of his clothing. But the deck and bench
beneath him felt like a frying pan too. He jumped
and wriggled around in agony, not sure what to do.
“Eeech! Ouch! Aaaahh! Aaaahh!” he yelled.
This yelling was joined by Wilbert and
Kumquat who were in the same predicament as
he. They were being roasted! Schmoor just ran in
faster and faster, tighter and tighter circles about
the burning fan. But when the sock on top of his
head began to smoke, he stopped and started
jumping up and down. Schmoor smacked himself
repeatedly upon the head, trying to keep his sock
from catching fire.
And then, just as all the boards of the For Sale
were about to reach their flash point and the ship
turn into a giant ball of fire, the flames around the
side of the ship died down, and slowly, very
slowly, the heat began to subside. Blustery, rainy
winds came up and blew out the fires aboard the
For Sale. A mad Kumquat with singed fur guided
the ship for a safe landing in the middle of a large
body of water. There was no land in sight. Rain
drizzled down from a slate sky.
Hazel slowly came to. Schmoor sat upon the
deck looking dazed. Then he felt at the sock atop
his head and yanked it off. He inspected it. There
were some singe marks upon it, but deciding it
wasn’t in too bad shape, he place it back atop his
head and smiled contentedly.
“Get down here you—you—treacherous troll,”
hissed Kumquat.
“Look, I don’t know what happened,” said
Wilbert, “but keep your claws to yourself cat!”
“If any of my squirrels or chipmunks or other
pets are hurt, you will regret it!”
“Enough! Enough!” shouted Brownbeard. “We’
re alive, let’s just be grateful for that. It looks like
were going to need to fix some things as soon as
we can. So let’s calm down and figure out where
we are and where we’re going.”
Brownbeard looked at Hazel. She was awake,
but still dazed.
“Floor-Zar,” she said.
“She’s still delirious,” said Brownbeard.
“No, Floor-Zar. I gave Wilbert my Floor-Zar
card to go get supplies before you got to the sand
castle. I wanted to save money. I’ll bet it was their
heat shielding tiles. Half of what they sell was
manufactured in Ningapoo. Ningapoo is fine for
fusion powered out-houses, laser guided underarm
deodorant, and cheese, but you have just seen how
well their heat shielding tiles perform. From now
on, we get our tiles from Ludwig at Ye Olde Gift
Shoppe, just like we used to.”
Wilbert came down from the crow’s nest.
Hazel’s explanation of why they had nearly fried
should have let Wilbert off the hook, but Kumquat
still glared at him. Wilbert pretended not to notice.
The five voyagers sat upon the scorched deck of
the For Sale as it rocked in the waves. Each
savored the cool rain which showered them.
“I’m hungry,” Brownbeard finally said.
“Yes, let’s eat,” said Hazel.
Everyone agreed this was a good idea. So,
before any further important decisions were to be
made, it was first decided to have a spot of lunch.
Putting the For Sale on autosail, the crew
disappeared below to enjoy Wilbert’s culinary
wizardry. At the dining table Schmoor began to
jump up and down, frantically pointing at
something.
“What is it, Schmoor?” asked Brownbeard,
turning to look at what the car-key-turned-sock-
gremlin was pointing. It was a video monitor
assisting the crew to keep watch on the For Sale
via cameras placed around the ship. The monitor’s
screen flashed between different views.
“Oh! No!” cried everyone as they watched.
Water was beginning to pour into several of
the lower rooms of the ship. The For Sale was
sinking.
* * *
Meanwhile, a small sleek skiff skillfully
weaved through the traffic on Interstellar Route
66, seeking the Atrion solar system. Well, maybe
not so skillfully. At its helm was a tall, dark figure
cloaked in black. From underneath its hood was
the grimly smiling demeanor of a pale skull. To
starboard was the other black-clad skeleton,
waving frantically, trying to get someone to let
them over before missing their exit.
The Adventures of Short Stubbly Brownbeard
Alan J. Levine
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Two
Buy yer hard copy
at . . .
at . . .
Want to support
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instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
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1633. Brownbeard is
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schools and libraries
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and Baker & Taylor.
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.