A Darkness from Beyond Universe: The Legend of Medes and the Birth of Hell

By John E. Vedder, Jr

“What’s her problem?” he muttered. Before he could delve any deeper into that quandary, the crack of the gavel summoned his attention back to the dais.

The Lord Chairman rose from his seat to his full height and, as protocol required, yelled out across the room: “This august council has reached a decision!” Looking down at Medes, he said, “You are exiled from Cadre until further notice. You—”

Medes sprang from the chair. “By the huge hairy balls swinging between the hind legs of a monstrous lumbering muzzgutt, but that’s not fair! Until further notice? And when might tha—”

The Lord Chairman slammed his gavel down this time, its eardrum rending sound reverberating throughout the bleak room. “Be silent! You are the rudest and most self-centered Eternal Being I’ve ever met!”

The security officer snickered.

Distracted, the Lord Chairman shot her a reproving look. He took a moment to recompose himself then looked back down at Medes and growled, “You will be allowed to return when you can show us you have learned that Universe was not created for your sole benefit! That you have developed an understanding of one’s responsibility to others, and that the concept of that kind of responsibility despises selfishness! You are excused!”

Medes stood open-mouthed as the gavel struck the dais in a final, jarring bang.

The Lord Chairman turned to leave. He froze and looked back, his eyes boring into Medes still standing there gaping. “I said you are excused! I want you out of my sight and off Cadre within the hour!”...

• Language: English
• Publisher: John E. Vedder, Jr
• Release date: Sep 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781604148190

John E. Vedder, Jr

John Vedder grew up in the Greater Daytona Beach Area of Florida and has lived his life there. He and his wife, Sunshine, own Vedderitaville—a riverfront home on the Intracoastal Waterway, where they have resided for eighteen years.His current pleasures are sailing, fishing, gourmet cooking, writing, adding to his artwork and music collections, cruising with his wife and two Labradors in their pontoon boat to Disappearing Island, drag-strip racing his 1971 Dodge Challenger 440 RT, honing his long-range shooting skills with his Sharps buffalo rifle, and sitting with a cold six-pack on their dock in the evenings.A few of his many past enjoyments were wrestling with alligators in the wild and mischievously releasing them in town; seining the shark-infested waters of Ponce de Leon Inlet after midnight for the much sought after migrating roe mullet; and hunting for and tangling with diamondback rattlesnakes in the area’s swamps and highlands. He skinned those snakes to make church neckties and hatbands for the neighborhood kids, earning him the kids’ nickname Snake Man. The skins delighted the kids, but they refused to taste any of his rattlesnake stews.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

HE HAD NO IDEA this would be his last day on planet Cadre when he materialized in front of the government’s colossal Capitol. His scouring of Universe for a new home had proved to be as fruitless as his other home-searching sojourns, and frustration lurked within him while he took pains to brush off the ages of cosmic dust trapped in the fabric of his bodysuit.

Satisfied that his ancient guise appeared presentable, he leaned against the building and waited for an opportunity to sneak inside. Settling back into his private monitoring room unnoticed was his goal. He would have slipped in ethereally if the penalty weren’t so severe. One of a zillion rules required an Eternal Being to be in physical form at all times when inside a government building.

Another dumb rule to be sure, he thought.

An opportunity soon presented itself. An assemblage of Eternal Beings blipped into corporeal form on the pillared portico, and he eased himself into their ranks. As they entered the vacuum-lock room that served as the foyer, they were oblivious to their surroundings, arguing over some recent administrative ruling. After the small room pressurized with a hiss, its interior doors automatically opened and the group hustled inside. Staying with them as they made their way across the cavernous hall, he offered a few cagey nods of affirmation to assure his position was amenable to whatever the hell it was they were debating.

Rainius appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm, jerking him from the safety of the group. Medes! Are you nuts? Another unapproved absence! Why didn’t you return any of my query communications? For all that we hold dear, where’ve you been?

Concern twisted Rainius’s face.

Medes had many fine traits, but the stains of impatience, arrogance, and selfishness blemished them, including an over-zealous aversion to authority. He knew right from wrong, but in his mind, wrong was often right. His non-sanctioned absence this time could prove to be his undoing.

Medes rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. Blast it, Rainius! he whispered hoarsely. "Can you say it any frigging louder? And I haven’t been away that long! Anyway, I followed proper procedure before I left. I searched for any discrepancies that might warrant my attention and found none, so what can they do to me? Besides, what can go wrong in a few thousand years? Lighten up, dude! I’ve been looking for a new home. It’s time I had a change."

Well, things may be changing for you sooner than you think, Rainius whispered back. I was heading outside to send you another telepathic message — an urgent one this time.

The blank stare Rainius received irritated him. Do you want to know why, Medes?

Can’t this wait, Rainius?

I seriously doubt it. When I poked my head in your work center a few moments ago to see if you had returned from wherever it was you disappeared to, I heard your critical-phase alarm. How long it’s been beeping, I have no idea.

"What?"

A cold prickle of panic raked up Medes’s spine. He bolted across the remainder of the hall and entered a labyrinth of corridors, Rainius close on his heels. For several seconds they whizzed through a mile or more of hallways, bends, and turns that brought him to his room. He flew in it and turned on the monitor.

Come on, come on, he muttered, coaxing the black screen to life.

The stubborn screen finally lit up, and to his horror, it displayed a close-up of three galaxies on the verge of colliding.

Aw-w-w, no-o-o! This has gotta be a first!

Rainius looked over Medes’s shoulder. Where’re they located?

Medes tapped a button on the keypad, and the oval screen’s 3-D display zoomed out to show Universe with a blinking red icon in the upper right.

Aw-w-w, no-o-o! They’re in the outer second quadrant — my sector! I’ll never make it there in time to separate them! He zoomed back in on the galaxies and studied them a moment. What the hell am I saying? Look at that! Given the time difference, they’re probably already too tangled to separate. Why didn’t one of the other rangers alert me?

Thinking his situation couldn’t get any worse, the council’s security officer leaned in the open doorway. They want you in chambers! Now!

Medes whipped around to face a girl who looked faintly familiar. How in hell do they know I’m here? he demanded as Rainius pushed him aside. Except for Rainius’s outburst in the entry hall, he thought he had arrived unnoticed.

Oh, they know, she said. She spun on her heels and disappeared from the opening.

Turning back, Medes smiled when he saw Rainius sitting forward in the cushioned armchair facing the monitor, probably experiencing more excitement than his ancient life had ever afforded him.

He reached over Rainius and hit another button, squelching the low-toned but irritating alarm. Not exactly the reception I was hoping for, he said, rubbing his face. Wait here ’til I return, okay?

No way am I leaving this screen! Those galaxies must have a tremendous gravitational attraction. They’re now beginning to touch at their fringes.

Medes put his hand on his good friend’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and studied the unfolding cataclysm. Their attraction is probably caused by an area of rippled time that developed in their vicinity. Keep in mind that unlike our telepathic communications, these communications and visuals only function at a trillion times the speed of light. What you’re seeing on that screen happened about five hundred years ago. In real time, they’ve already collided.

A realization then hit Medes and he rapped the table with the knuckles of his other hand. That damned ripple should’ve been detected by an energy manager, and the counsil is probably gonna blame me! he said acidly. Watch and enjoy. It’ll happen fast. Without my help, there’s nothing those moronic star-system managers can do.

Rainius only shook his head.

MEDES RECALLED THE four other reprimands he had received long ago in the Council of Universe’s chamber, and from what he observed as he traipsed in, nothing had changed. The expansive, windowless room remained austere — void of wall hangings, decorations, or other furnishings — with the semi-circular raised dais standing near the back wall. He sauntered toward that imposing structure, thinking its gleaming black surface still daunted him by virtue of his distorted reflection imprisoned in it.

The Lord Chairman sat behind the dais, flanked by six council members on each side, their grim expressions intensified by the dark purple of their flowing robes. An armless chair of simple design faced the dais.

Have a seat, the Lord Chairman said.

Medes put on a pretentious expression of puzzlement and looked around as though he hadn’t noticed the lone chair.

This council will not tolerate your sarcasm or insolence, Medes! The Lord Chairman jabbed a finger at the chair and growled, Now, have a seat!

Medes plopped down in it. "It’s not Meeds, Lord Chairman, he said. My name is pronounced Mee-deez."

The Lord Chairman stared, another flare of temper making his drooping jowls tremble. "So you have previously informed us, Mee-deez. I will make it my foremost duty in life to remember your name and its pronunciation."

Thank you, Lordship. I couldn’t ask for more.

You will ask for nothing! the Lord Chairman exploded. We have suffered through several near misses in the past because of your apathy and negligence, and now this burgeoning catastrophe. Your current delinquency has threatened the livelihoods of three star-system managers. They, and a host of others, have been fighting a losing battle for some time now to keep those galaxies from tangling, something you should have prevented.

The Lord Chairman began conferring with the other council members, their heads nodding in agreement. Unconcerned about receiving another reprimand, Medes noticed the pretty security officer standing against the sidewall on his left. He smiled at her and got nothing in return. He poked his thumbs in his ears, stuck out his tongue, crossed his eyes, and wiggled his fingers at her, hoping she would smile, but her demeanor remained sour.

What’s her problem? he muttered. Before he could delve any deeper into that quandary, the crack of the gavel summoned his attention back to the dais.

The Lord Chairman rose from his seat to his full height and, as protocol required, yelled out across the room: This august council has reached a decision! Looking down at Medes, he said, You are exiled from Cadre until further notice. You—

Medes sprang from the chair. "By the huge hairy balls swinging between the hind legs of a monstrous lumbering muzzgutt, but that’s not fair! Until further notice? And when might tha—"

The Lord Chairman slammed his gavel down this time, its eardrum rending sound reverberating throughout the bleak room. Be silent! You are the rudest and most self-centered Eternal Being I’ve ever met!

The security officer snickered.

Distracted, the Lord Chairman shot her a reproving look. He took a moment to recompose himself then looked back down at Medes and growled, You will be allowed to return when you can show us you have learned that Universe was not created for your sole benefit! That you have developed an understanding of one’s responsibility to others, and that the concept of that kind of responsibility despises selfishness! You are excused!

Medes stood open-mouthed as the gavel struck the dais in a final, jarring bang.

The Lord Chairman turned to leave. He froze and looked back, his eyes boring into Medes still standing there gaping. I said you are excused! I want you out of my sight and off Cadre within the hour!

MEDES FELT HIS world imploding, and despair replaced his anger as he headed back to his monitoring station. His comfortable life for the past fifteen billion years on Cadre had been stolen from him at the swing of a gavel.

He paused along the way and peered out a hallway window at the seat of Universe’s government — a widespread city, dense with buildings of all shapes and sizes, some soaring over five thousand feet into the sky. Heat from the red star during this time of day seared the planet’s surface, and its harsh light bathed the megalopolis and distant mountains in an angry — yet quite dazzling — orange glow.

All was abuzz with activity. Throngs of Eternal Beings blipped in and out of their corporeal forms, going about what Medes considered to be their authoritative ruse of administrating. A large menagerie of non-indigenous beings, encumbered inside insulated suits with atmosphere packs, zipped about on anti-gravity vehicles.

His thoughts strayed to what it would be like to live a restrictive life of flesh and blood. Eternal Beings were not ‘alive’ by any accepted definition. Their ethereal states were cohesive forms of intelligent energy — telepathic states of being that lacked the senses of taste and touch. They acquired those senses, plus oral communication, by using their minds to project hairless corporeal forms — hair being regarded as barbaric. The corporeal forms projected were recognizably substantial, but void of life. For this reason, Eternal Beings were not burdened with the need to breathe, eat, or sleep, and intimate relationships produced no offspring.

His thoughts returned to the immense, lifeless planet of Cadre. Located at the precise center of Universe, it would forever remain so because the government restrained its spiraling galaxy from any lateral movement through space. To have unimpeded communications between Cadre and the far reaches of Universe, its atmosphere was eliminated. Without an atmosphere, Cadre’s daytime skies were black — manifesting a perpetual darkness without depth — and the stars in the nighttime skies never twinkled.

He rested his forehead against the sapphire windowpane, a feverish feeling of loss blistering him. He sighed. Raising his head, he continued on to his quiet, cool space.

RANIUS WAS STILL glued to the screen when Medes fell into the chair beside him.

They’ve started colliding!

Not feeling up to correcting Rainius, he shook his head and said, They spanked me hard, dude. I’m banished from Cadre.

Rainius whipped around from the screen. "You’re what?"

Yep. It’s a done deal. Because of that grouchy old fart, I gotta find me some place to go, real quick. Sure wish I’d found that new home I was looking for.

The colliding galaxies no longer interested Rainius, and a crooked grin formed on his ill-favored face. He knew his corporeal form flirted on the edge of ugly, but it wasn’t like he’d been repeatedly thrashed about by the blunt end of an ugly stick. No, it was more like he had suffered only a couple of whacks from it — a couple of hard whacks.

The corporeal forms of Eternal Beings were subtle in their observable differences. If a minute piece of debris whizzing through space accidentally struck an Eternal Being while corporeally busy at some task, it would cause their instantaneous de-materialization to the ethereal state. Rematerializing, that Eternal Being would project the same unique corporeal form free of injury.

Why are you grinning? You find this amusing?

Rainius had brightened with an idea pulled from the vapors — ideas being his specialty. "No, I don’t, but I think I have a solution to your self-inflicted plight, good buddy! And at no charge, too! Goddisall wanted to—"

That guy’s an idiot.

And you’re not? Let me finish. He wanted to engage my consulting service while you were away. He tried bartering payment for a small planet he owned. I declined his offer, explaining my policy of staying solvent. Needless to say, his reaction wasn’t pleasant. From what I gather, though, that planet remains in his possession. It may be something for you to consider.

Medes hesitated. That know-it-all Goddisall never parted with anything, unless circumstances forced the parting, he thought. Maybe the bungler had somehow managed to infect the planet with one of his weird creations and it hung around his neck like a lead weight.

Medes then shuddered, recalling the snilch fiasco. Goddisall had created a couple of prolific snilches on one of his planets. Although not by design, they became impervious to destruction. Those little buggers had multiplied so fast that his planet had to be permanently quarantined, lest they infest the entire Universe.

Medes grunted. What the hell. Let’s hear it. I’m all ears.

Now keep in mind that I’ve never seen this planet. I only know what Goddisall described to me.

Aw, come on, Rainius! You’re proposing to tell me that buffoon’s biased hearsay?

No, hear me out! This may intrigue you. His planet is in a galaxy surprisingly near this one, and the length of its daily rotation and annual orbit around its star are identical to Cadre’s. At the very least, its closeness would be convenient.

He paused, noticing that Medes’s disinterest had returned. Seems to me you’ve just lost everything, so what more could you possibly have to lose?

Medes glanced at the screen and winced. Okay, so intrigue me.

Rainius beamed, and with effusive enthusiasm, said, In his search to find a place for a special life-form experiment, he somehow stumbled upon this tiny rock of stellar remnants. The life existing on it surprised him. He claimed it was so covered with life that it was a living organism unto itself. Like nothing he’d ever seen. He described this miniscule planet as amazingly unusual in its composition and beyond comparison in its beauty. Think about it, Medes! A gorgeous planet covered in life! I know of no other planet like that in Universe.

Medes didn’t think about it. His thoughts had returned to the snilches. What became of his experiment?

Goddisall doesn’t know. He did say he gave his creation a sizable brain genetically endowed to evolve so it could comprehend our language and reason like us. Two experimental life-forms resembling our corporeal forms were alive when insurmountable difficulties besieged him. This was about a million years ago, and he packed up and left, never to return.

Medes bet ‘left’ was a loser, hauled-ass being more likely the winner. These life-forms looked like us?

Yes. A perfect reflection, according to him.

Medes wondered what Goddisall had fled from, and asked, Why did he abandon such a monumental project?

Rainius chuckled. For some baffling reason, his life-forms quit breathing the nitrogen and began thriving on what little oxygen existed there, and that troubled him. He theorized a dependency on oxygen, given its extremely corrosive properties, would shorten their lifespan considerably. He wasn’t willing to wait around for confirmation. Frowning now, he added, As I recall, there was something else concerning the planet that greatly distressed him, but he refused to speak about it.

And you say he’s anxious to unload this little speck of stellar dirt?

That’s what I hear. Go give it a look-see.

Medes stood and patted Rainius on the back. What have I got to lose, eh?

More to himself than to Medes, Rainius mumbled, I can think of nothing. I believe you have everything to gain.

CHAPTER

1

IN THE BEGINNING there was no light, no space, no matter, and no time. There existed only non-matter and the all-powerful Ageless One who is and always will be.

The first mistake the Ageless One made was thinking — a major mistake, this thinking. The Ageless One wanted to be distinguished, so it thought of itself as female. Where that thought came from will never be known, but when it happened, her mind’s reflection of herself popped out of her thought.

Being a reflection — a reverse image opposing the original one — it was male, and he, too, is and always will be. Power has no reflection, so both were all-powerful. Unfortunately, traits and qualities are reflected. Where the Ageless One was intelligent and full of goodness, the Opposing One was rather stupid and purely evil. The Ageless One’s emotions were also reflected in her male counterpart: patience opposed to impatience; love opposed to hate; generosity opposed to greed; confidence opposed to fear; calmness opposed to anger; and so on.

Complications developed from this state of duality, and some kind of expanse became necessary. To overcome this undesirable inadequacy, the Ageless One carved off a microscopic piece from her minute seed of non-matter and tweaked it to create space. She called this space the Realm — a boundless expanse with no end.

It wasn’t expansive enough, though.

These Entities stayed in constant conflict. To be rid of this unwelcomed antagonism, the Ageless One divorced herself from the Opposing One. She divided the Realm down the middle, each taking a boundless half.

The Ageless One’s half — her self-designated Realm — blossomed with many beautiful worlds she created within it from the power of her mind. These worlds ranged in size from smaller than dust motes to ones so large they defied comprehension. Using another itsy-bitsy piece of non-matter, she created powerful Ancient Ones to oversee her Realm’s worlds.

Her most recent creation — a medium-sized, three-dimensional world she named Universe — was her favorite. She filled it with matter and energy, which brought forth light. Using her own powers, she designed Eternal Beings to act as its caretakers. These Beings would need a fourth dimension in the fulfillment of their duties, so she created time within Universe. This dimension was necessary to prevent Universe from becoming static; time would allow the world of Universe to grow and prosper.

An orderly hierarchy structured the Ageless One’s Realm, and Universe lacked an overseer. Her search for a suitable Ancient One ended when she discovered how well Gaea had performed as trustee of Dondonna — a world smaller than a grain of sand. The enormous variety of abundant life Gaea had created in Dondonna’s many star systems boggled the mind. Gaea possessed an exceptionally caring vision, and the Ageless One didn’t hesitate to reassign her as the trustee of Universe.

The Opposing One’s half was hideous in every respect. Most of the worlds he created within his Realm’s space were impoverished of basic three-dimensional designs. They were worlds of one and two dimensions that groaned under the weight of malformation. His few three-dimensional worlds were not linear, but convoluted, their boundaries in a constant state of flux. Not having access to the non-matter, he was limited to only what his corrupt mind could evoke in the way of beings: grotesque life-forms given questionable intelligence, at best.

The Ageless One made her second mistake by misplacing her seed of non-matter some ten billion years ago. That seed contained the total quantity of non-matter in the divided Realms, and she had locked it in a fleck of quillian stone to protect it.

Non-matter was something that was nothing that could become anything its possessor so desired. It, or a fractional chip of it, could only be used once and then never reversed — a very dangerous nothing.

Not wanting to draw attention to the non-matter’s loss, the Ageless One began searching for it with a casualness that belied her concern. The thought that anyone might know of its misplacement, other than her, never entered her mind.

ETERNAL BEINGS WERE the administrators and stewards of Universe — their vocations determined by what special powers they possessed. Star-system managers were each assigned a galaxy. They kept their galaxy’s electro-magnetic field stable as it streamed outward in wide arcs from its source at the star system’s core. An errant field detaching itself from the core would cause irregular distention or compression to a galaxy, sending the lopsided galaxy wildly off course.

Other Eternal Beings managed energy — a tricky vocation. Too much energy massing in a galaxy’s nucleus would implode it, creating a black hole, and too little would cause it to explode. Billions of stars whizzing in all directions wasn’t good. Something else that wasn’t good was unattended energy. Without the oversight of these managers, energy concentrating in small areas of space would ripple time, creating another perilous situation. Even though these small areas of rippled time rarely formed, inattentive Eternal Beings sometimes disappeared into them, never to be seen again.

The Eternal Beings who managed space were the misers of Universe and difficult to deal with. They tended to be mighty stingy with it.

Oddly, a large majority of Eternal Beings decreed the special power they possessed was given to managing the managers performing the work. Despite being subjected to this imbalance of a heavily weighted ruling authority, all aspects of Universe’s management seemed to function well enough. The working managers found creative ways to avoid the administrative snoggshit that stymied them.

MEDES BLIPPED ETHEREAL on the Capitol portico, created a wormhole in the fabric of time through space, and took off at a trillion times the speed of light to investigate Goddisall’s little planet. At close to two billion light years away, his trip should take him — barring any distractions — a tad less than seventeen hours, Cadre time. (As a reference, two billion light years translates to 11,739,427,200,000,000,000,000 earth miles.)

Medes loved wormholes. Without the use of one, an Eternal Being’s movement through space was limited to the speed of light. If forced to travel at that rate, his short journey would extend to … well, damned near two billion years, and who had time for that? he asked himself.

Yes, indeedy! He loved those wormholes!

He was one of the most powerful Eternal Beings in Universe, possessing a power and knowledge that enabled him to simultaneously use energy to influence and control matter, space, and time. Hence he had acquired a profession as one of the elite few: Universe Rangers who bumped, nudged, or modified galaxies to prevent them from colliding.

His knowledge excluded the ability to conjure up a new life-form, although once he knew a life-form’s composition and the alignment of its complex chemical structures, he could recreate it. In his periods of idleness, he had practiced recreating life-forms such as the tiny arsenic-eating zookuss on the planet Arsnikkia to the monstrous boulder-munching thuggma on Rokktoll.

His only weakness — unique to him — was his inability to remain focused on everything around him at all times. His mind functioned in a rigidly compartmentalized manner. This handicap limited his concentration to a scant few events at a time, and if an occasion were dire, his mind demanded that he limit his thoughts to that one event, blocking out everything else.

This way of thinking had dragged him into some precarious predicaments, like those four near misses that earned him reprimands. Thankfully though, good fortune had always come to the rescue, blunting any lasting opposition that might have threatened his almost flawless career. That is until good fortune recently decided to abandon him.

Three galaxies colliding at once! Who would have ever frigging thought? he mumbled in his mind as he zipped through space.

CHAPTER

2

STAYING IN CORPOREAL form, Rainius suppressed his sense of touch and squinted in the late afternoon’s raw, orange starlight as he exited the Capitol. He needed a place to sit and think, and Duggbartt’s Duggoutt across the way would suit him just fine.

Yerbbie greeted him from behind the concierge’s lectern once the inner vacuum-lock door opened. The usual? she asked.

As always, he replied, removing his starshades and putting them in his pocket.

I’ve too long remained a creature of habit, he thought as he followed Yerbbie to his table in a dark corner. She patiently waited while he fussed his chair into its usual position facing the room. His predictability had always distressed him, and he saw that Yerbbie’s smile said it all: You need an infusion of the abnormal, and that will fix you right up!

When he finally sat in the perfectly oriented chair, Yerbbie said, I’ll be back with your usual flavor.

Thank you. You are most kind.

Rainius watched her fade into the dimness, her silhouette backlit by the ceiling spotlights shining down on the bar. She was a petite Eternal Being for whom he had a secret affection. Her strong spirit revolved around her determination, and he doubted there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do if she put