Beyond the Sea of Stars

By Joel Ferguson

Far, far from Earth and thousands of light-years away is a place known as the Great Rift that separates our universe from an alternate other, where space is white, and the stars are black. In that universe are unimaginable worlds, some larger than the Earth’s sun, and things that defy human logic. Things that are meant to stay on their side of that protective barrier, but as impenetrable as it is, something did manage to penetrate it and reaped havoc on the far side of our universe. It was a ghastly maggot-like organism called Yethla with an insatiable desire to consume protoplasm. If it were not for an advanced race of beings known as Vorxans, this menace would have eventually spread across our universe, destroying, and feasting on all living and nonliving protoplasm in its path. This is the story of how this advanced race of beings was able to finally penetrate the Great Rift and discover what lies beyond the sea of stars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hawes & Jenkins Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9781637842805

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Beyond the Sea of Stars

Joel Ferguson

ISBN 978-1-63784-279-9 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63784-280-5 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Joel Ferguson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Hawes & Jenkins Publishing

16427 N Scottsdale Road Suite 410

Scottsdale, AZ 85254

www.hawesjenkins.com

Other books by Joel Ferguson

Across The Sea of Stars

copyrighted 2019

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Far, far from Earth and thousands of light-years away is a place known as the Great Rift that separates our universe from an alternate other, where space is white, and the stars are black. In that universe are unimaginable worlds, some larger than earth's sun, and things that defy human logic. Things that are meant to stay on their side of that protective barrier, but as impenetrable as it is, something did manage to penetrate it and reaped havoc on the far side of our universe. It was a ghastly maggot-like organism called Yethla with an insatiable desire to consume protoplasm. If it were not for an advanced race of beings known as Vorxans, this menace would have eventually spread across our universe, destroying, and feasting on all living and nonliving protoplasm in its path.

Somewhere Unknown—Year, Date, and Time Unknown

Jupiter Parameter Space Dock, Byers Conference Room, 2417

Captain's Log, Location Unknown

Centuri System, 2418

Captain's Log—Time, Date, and Location Unknown

Proxima b, Centauri System, 2418

Captain's Log—Time, Date, and Location Unknown

Proxima b, 2418

Captain's Log—Time, Date, and Location Unknown

Proxima b, 2418

Yxis, Somewhere in Infinity, the Game Room

Captain's Log, Somewhere Unknown—Year, Time, and Date Unknown

Yxis, Game Room

Captain's Log, Somewhere Unknown—Year, Date, and Time Unknown

Proxima b, 2418

Yxis, Game Room

Captain's Log, Somewhere Unknown—Year, Date, and Time Unknown

Yxis, Game Room

Captain's Log, Somewhere Unknown—Time, Date, and Year Unknown

Yxis, Game Room

Somewhere Unknown—Time, Date, and Year Unknown

Near Proxima b, 2418

0400, NSA2272 Conference Room, 2418

Proxima b, 2418

Deep Space, NSA2272, 2418

Philaria 11, Above Proxima b, 2418

Epilogue

Other Books by Joel Ferguson

About the Author

Far, far from Earth and thousands of light-years away is a place known as the Great Rift that separates our universe from an alternate other, where space is white, and the stars are black. In that universe are unimaginable worlds, some larger than earth's sun, and things that defy human logic. Things that are meant to stay on their side of that protective barrier, but as impenetrable as it is, something did manage to penetrate it and reaped havoc on the far side of our universe. It was a ghastly maggot-like organism called Yethla with an insatiable desire to consume protoplasm. If it were not for an advanced race of beings known as Vorxans, this menace would have eventually spread across our universe, destroying, and feasting on all living and nonliving protoplasm in its path.

Vorxan

3224808003 AC

The Philaria 11 suddenly winked into orbit above the ancient planet of Vorxan.

Home sweet home, said Venxia, looking over at her sister Kinxia who was occupying the seat next to her. It seems like years that I was here last, she said, looking down at the network of inner-connected domes that spread over the arid landscape.

It's good to be back, said Kinxia, slowly getting up. I can't wait to give Grandfather a big hug. Won't he be surprised to see us?

Yes, I'm sure he has been very concerned about us. The last time I spoke to him was the day we departed from Ruonun. How long has that been? Weeks, months, I have lost track.

They left the control room and proceeded to walk down a brightly lit oval corridor. There was no end in sight. After several minutes, they came to an eleporter and took it down to the lower deck of the monstrous ship. They stepped out onto a grated platform that was suspended high above the shuttle bay. It was the same layout as on the Philaria, which caused Kinxia to momentarily freeze as a haunting memory came flooding back like a title wave washing over the ramparts of Spoor. She was running as fast as she could with one of her crewmates down a seemingly endless corridor; badly sprained ankle, burned, bleeding, several cracked ribs, and half blind from the blood that had run down her forehead and into her eyes. The door to the shuttle port loomed in front of them, but it did not seem to be getting any closer as she hobbled along, gritting her teeth in pain. Then the ship had begun to tremble when one of the three reactors exploded, causing a radioactive fireball to enter the corridor from a vent not far behind them. She took a quick glance back and saw, to her horror, that her crewmate was lagging too far behind; there was no way he was going to make it because the nine-foot-thick merrillium door was rapidly sliding shut.

Despite her pain, she had just managed to slide under the door as it sealed shut, trapping her crewmate on the other side. Feeling a great sense of loss, she managed to get up and hobble to the door that led to the upper deck of the mezzanine and to an eleporter. All the while, the haunting voice of a woman filled her ears: Warning, warning, time of destruction counting down minus fifteen minutes, evacuate, evacuate, warning. She managed to look over the rail and saw that all the shuttle bays were empty except one that was burning far in the distance and one that had a line of her crewmates shuffling along like Piquids on Stroom. Then she looked at the glowing panel light on the eleporter, and most of them were glowing red, indicating radiation on one or more of the levels. She briefly hesitated, then decided that it was of no consequence at this stage of the game; she was probably dead either way.

Venxia turned around and looked back at her sister with a concerned look on her face. What's the matter?

Kinxia had a far-away look on her face and mumbled in an almost inaudible voice, Déjà vu, she replied. Déjà vu?

They took the eleporter down and exited onto the shuttle port deck, where they were greeted by a hovering Quan-x AI machine. It's one ominous sunken red eye, glowing cherry red. Captain Ill' Adore, it is good to see you again.

Likewise, Quan, she said as a courtesy because all the Quan-x AIs looked the same, and this one was no different.

If you please follow me, I will show you to your AMAG.

Thank you, Quan.

Then it turned around and glided across the high bay toward a staging area several hundred yards in the distance, where several of the AMAG units were silently hovering just above the deck. As they walked along following the Quan-x, they could clearly see three of the shuttles spaced about a mile apart, silently sitting in their designated docking ports like sentinels guarding some long-forgotten tomb. The fourth shuttle was just barely visible far in the distance, and beyond that, the shuttle bay stretched out of sight.

After several minutes, they reached the AMAG staging area, and each of them mounted one of the hovering machines. Venxia thanked the Quan-x, and then they headed down the high bay toward shuttle 17, which was waiting to take them down to the surface of Vorxan.

When they reached the shuttle, Kinxia was elated to see her old subordinate Lieutenant Davin Exseminir standing there with several other UPFF officers. They had gone through so much together: escaping from the doomed Philaria and the little shuttle pod that crash landed on Arillion, then to that hideous planet of blowing sand Brun, met the earth men, and then wound up on the devastated planet Jepta after it had been ravaged by the monsters from across the Great Rift. He looked much better now than the last time she had seen him; cleaned up nicely, she thought.

They dismounted and walked over to the small contingent, who saluted and stood at attention.

At ease, said Venxia.

Ready for departure, Captains, said Lieutenant Exseminir.

It's so damn good to see you again, Lieutenant, said Kinxia.

Likewise, Captain, it's a miracle that we actually made it back.

Yes, it is. Thankfully, the cards were stacked in our favor.

Not sure I understand that one, Captain.

That is one of those earth sayings. I didn't understand it either at first, but it means that luck was on our side. In other words, damned lucky!

I couldn't agree more.

Our meeting with the admiral is at 1400, so we had better be on our way, said Venxia.

Without further discussion, they boarded the shuttle.

The admiral was in a meeting with several of his top generals when his communications officer barged into the room. Sorry for the interruption, Admiral, but we have just received some very exciting news that you will be interested in hearing.

Go on, said the admiral.

The Philaria 11 has just entered orbit above Vorxan.

Everyone around the table sat in stunned silence for a few moments before all pandemonium broke loose.

Alamogordo, New Mexico

2410

Pepe Vella walked out of the small, white-framed house that he had rented after his return from the expedition to Uvonia. He carried a small, tattered tan suitcase in his left hand, one that he had found in the attic, left by its previous owner. The air was already unpleasantly warm even though the sun was forty minutes or so from peaking over the horizon. He knew it was going to be another scorcher.

Stepping out onto the dry parched yard, he squinted his bloodshot eyes and carefully stepped over the large cracks in the soil that were silhouetted in the darkness. If an unsuspecting foot should find one, it could easily cause a nasty sprain, and Pepe surely did not want that kind of misery right now.

Carumba, he muttered under his stale breath as he reached the street.

Pausing at the curb, he looked down the dark lane, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rudy Vaquera's headlights, but there was only darkness. So, he stood there in the stillness of the early morning with his dry throat and pounding head, wishing that he had not drunk so much cerveza the night before. Actually, it had only been a few short hours ago that he had passed out miserably drunk in the back of Angles Café. He did not remember how he got home, nor did it cross his groggy mind.

The neighborhood was peaceful and quite at that hour. The only audible sound he could hear was that of a distant truck on the interstate a few miles away, and he had to strain his ears to hear that. The sound gradually faded away, but he still continued to listen for it even though it was too distant to detect. As he stood there, a gradual feeling of solitude crept over him as the darkness wrapped itself around his thin body, causing a cold chill to run up his spine.

His mind drifted back to Brun, or was it Uvonia? He couldn't remember. The Sooid thing with that hideous twisted face and those burning violet eyes was leading them down into infierno, where the squid creatures were waiting to feast on them. He was just about to scream when the sight of Rudy's headlights brought him out of his momentary trance.

He nervously reached into the pocket of his faded blue shirt and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. There was only one left. He stuck it between his pale, trembling lips and let the package fall to the ground, where the scorched early morning breeze carried it down the street. It made a slight clicking sound as it went and was lost in the early morning darkness. He wiped the cold, clammy sweat from his forehead and took a deep drag on his cigarette, slowly exhaling the smoke. It seemed like an eternity until Rudy's old cigar-shaped AG car finally pulled up to where he was standing.

The door slid open, and Pepe got in. He could see Rudy's full face silhouetted in the pale green panel lights staring at him. Rudy looked over at the ghostly sweaty face staring at him, and it reminded him of a leering corpse with a cigarette dangling from its dead lips.

"Buenos días," Pepe managed to croak out.

"Buenos días, amigo, said Rudy. Man, you look like you just seen a ghost!"

No ghost, man, he said, leaning forward and pressing on his throbbing temples with the palms of his hands.

Just out too late last night, that's all.

"And too much cerveza frio." Rudy added with a wink of the eye that Pepe did not see.

Amigo, are you having second thoughts about signing up for another mission to that dead world?

"Si, cabron, but I don't want to let Captain Stan down since he went out of his way to let me know how important this mission is going to be and that he needs as many of our original crew members as possible. Also, I can use the generoso sign-up bonus. What about you, cabron?"

Am I in the car with you headed to the space port? That should answer your question.

As they wound their way out of the quiet neighborhood and up onto the interstate, the sun was just coming up.

Jupiter Perimeter Space Dock

Byers Confrence Room

2410

The conference room was filled to capacity. Admiral Pennington had assembled an elite group of scientists, engineers, military personnel, and the captains of five of the mining ships that had been sent out in the search for Illiseum, a rare mineral that had been discovered on Ganymede two decades prior. The sixth ship was stranded somewhere out in the Centaurus system and had not returned.

The admiral stepped up to the podium, placed both hands on each side, and looked out at the assembled group; some in military uniforms, some in the NSA blues, some in the white and red jumper vests, which indicated that they were part of the scientific community, and the black-and-gray dress shirts worn by the maintenance and engineering departments. He was tall, six feet four inches, with piercing blue eyes, and snow-white hair. He had served in the military since he was eighteen and was now pushing seventy-seven. He was still as sharp as the day he graduated from the Brightmore Space Academy fifty-five years ago.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have requested your presence here today to discuss several issues that need to be addressed and need immediate attention.

It has been nearly fourteen months since the Vorxans departed, and we have had no word as to whether they were successful in defeating the enemy that was attacking their galaxy or if they ever got back home."

Stan Silver, who was captain of the NSA2275 was sitting in the front row and was focused on a picture hanging on the wall behind the Admiral. He remembered the day it was taken just before the NSA2275 left for the Antorian Galaxy. He was standing in the center surrounded by his crew all with big smiles on their faces, none of them realizing at the time that many of them would never return. Buddy Breaux, his second-in-command, was standing to his right—tall, handsome, and full of life. God, he missed him—his quick wit, dry sense of humor, and leadership skills. It was hard to believe he was gone; his remains scattered on a dead planet in a distant galaxy.

The admiral continued, Captain Stan Silver has been selected to lead an expedition back to Uvonia, in the Antorian Galaxy, to locate the VMT that was buried during the solar storm that they encountered. If it can be successfully excavated and studied, perhaps we will be able to determine what makes it function. As Captain Silver has reported, the device is made out of very dense material, something unknown to us, which makes it extremely heavy. None of the equipment they had with them could move it or pick it up, so most likely, it will have to be studied on Uvonia and not brought back to Earth.

When the admiral mentioned Stan's name, he came out of his momentary trance, stood up, and walked up to the podium.

Looking out at the massive gallery, he began.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Stan Silver, and as the admiral mentioned, I was captain of the NSA2275 that traveled to the Antorian Galaxy in search of Illiseum. Although we were not successful in locating any deposits of this rare mineral, we found something far better, something that could eliminate our dependence on Illiseum altogether. There were gasps from many in the audience who were hearing this information for the first time. He continued, I say it could eliminate because we must first figure out how this technology works, and the only way we can do that is to go back to Uvonia and uncover the VMT."

At this point, there were murmurs in the gallery and hushed whispers, VMT, what the hell is that?

Stan quickly picked up on the blank stairs and murmurs from many of the people in the audience, remembering that not everyone had been briefed on their trip to the Antorian Galaxy, so he summarized the events that had taken place on that voyage, including meeting the Vorxans and the menace that was lurking on the other side of their universe. There was a hushed silence. If a pin had been dropped, it would have been heard.

We had hoped to hear back from the Vorxans, but it has been well over a year, so we must consider the possibility that we might not be hearing from them again, which prompts us to send another mission to Uvonia. Are there any questions?

Several hands came up.

Stan singled out a pretty young woman in a purple and dark green uniform. She stood and identified herself as Corporal Jenna Brixmore of the Ninety-Sixth Strike Force stationed on the Jupiter Perimeter Space Dock.

Sir, I have so many questions I can't think of which one to ask first.

Stan smiled at her. Go ahead, Corporal, fire away.

How far away is this, what you called, the great rift, and is there any danger to our solar system from the menace that these Vorxans were up against?

Good questions, Corporal. From our conversations with the Vorxans, they believe that the menace came from the other side of the Great Rift, which according to them, is hundreds of light-years from Earth. So, I would have to say that at this point, we are most likely not in any immediate danger. However, we have no idea what this menace is or what technology they possess. Hopefully, not VMT technology, or they could be at our doorstep today.

There were more murmurs from the audience, and a sense of restlessness reverberated throughout the auditorium. This caused many more hands to rise. Stan chose another woman far in the back who was dressed in a blue uniform adorned with black trim. He knew that this signified that she was an instructor at the Brightmore Planetary Space Academy, the same academy he had graduated from so many years ago. She stood up and identified herself as Lieutenant Zinz Fillia, a flight instructor at the Brightmore Planetary Space Academy.

"Sir, isn't it going to take four years for the NSA2275 to get to Uvonia, and is there enough Illiseum to get it there and back?"

Another good question, said Stan. You are correct. It will take just under four years to get to Uvonia, and again, yes, we have enough Illiseum to get us there and back. However, that will deplete our stockpile of this precious mineral. I wish we had more options, but this seems to be the only one we have.

Sir, continued Zinz (who was still standing and had the floor), is there any chance that another deposit of Illiseum will be found in our solar system?

I suppose it is possible, Lieutenant Fillia, but in the twenty-plus years since its discovery on Ganymede, we have been looking high and low throughout our solar system for more deposits. And as you are probably aware, we even sent out five ships to distant planetary systems in our galaxy and one more to a different galaxy, but they all came back empty-handed. And to answer your question, yes, it is very possible that there could be more deposits in our own solar system because we have not explored all the moons around several of our planets.

After answering several more questions, Stan thanked everyone for attending, left the podium, and turned the meeting back over to the Admiral.

After the meeting had adjourned, Stan made his way out of the conference room and through an enthusiastic crowd of well-wishers, who followed him into the brightly lit blue-green oval corridor.

The other side of the Great Rift

The armada of oval black ships had traveled for what would be considered years on the other side of the great rift (our side), but in this alternate universe, there was no measurement of time, no years, months, minutes, seconds, only the now.

The creatures manning these ships were known as the Vava, a cruel hostile race of beings that lived in a frozen world of methane gas mixed with xlorium (unknown on our side of the Great Rift), which caused their reptilian snakelike skin to take on a deep blue color.

By human standards, these creatures would rate a ten on the rector scale of ugliness: bulbous heads, counter sunken black eyes, no visible ears, and where the mouth should be was a milky-white appendage similar to a limp piece of spaghetti that they used to suck ammonia into their bloated bodies. They had thick stubby legs, feet like the hooves of a horse, and three tubelike arms that sported tendrils like jellyfish.

They were on a retaliatory mission to either destroy or cripple their most dreaded enemy, the Elyn, who had recently invaded their part of the galaxy, totally wiping out several of their inhabited worlds for no reason. There had been a long-standing truce between these two hostile races for as long as the Vava could remember. It just did not make sense to them why the Elyn would break that truce—no sense at all. But what the Vava did not understand was that the Elyn themselves had nothing to do with it although they were the ones who should have been held accountable because of the hideous organism they created to clean up the dead bodies on the toxic battlefields of both Elyn and Urin, their neighboring planet. It was an endless ongoing war, and over time, too many bodies were piling up to be properly disposed of. Consequently, the Elyn solved the problem by developing an organism that they named Yethla that would eat the dead protoplasm, but what they did not count on was a mutation. It was designed to eat, or should we say absorb, dead protoplasm, but over time, it developed an insatiable desire for live protoplasm, and there was plenty of that.

It was a simple enough organism, small, about the size of a thumbnail, asexual, with no central nervous system, eyes or real features at all, and a very limited life span. As long as there was nourishment, it would live, and when it was gone, it would simply implode and die. However, this was not the case with all of them because a few mutated deep within the poisoned craters of both Urin and Elyn, where the endless war had been raging for an unmeasured amount of time. The combination of high levels of certain molecules used in the dastardly weapons by both sides, plus the constant exposure to the acid mist that was indigenous to both planets, caused significant changes to take place in the Yethla, such as increasing its size from a thumbnail to an incredible nine feet in length and half as wide. It also caused it to develop several sets of leglike appendages to make it more mobile, and out of these appendages grew three large suckers from which protruded four milky-white tentacles that gave it the ability to reach out and grab its prey.

It also developed the ability to communicate with one another by touching since it did not have a tongue and was incapable of speech. However, as time passed, the need to touch was no longer necessary because it gradually became telepathic and could communicate in a limited way.

Over a long period of unmeasured time, the Yethla underwent another metamorphic change causing it to develop an awareness of its being: to survive. It also developed a lust for all protoplasm, alive or dead.

It found that when it fused its awareness, as little as it might have been, with other Yethla, it could direct its thoughts toward live protoplasm, such as the giant Elyn and Urin soldiers, and they would obey. Consequently, it summoned them to the poisoned craters where they nested, absorbing them by the millions, satisfying its insatiable lust for the succulent food it desired. It was also pleasantly surprised, if a Yethla could be surprised, that it also retained the memories of the dead soldiers, making it more and more knowledgeable. So, it was just a matter of unmeasured time that the organism that the Elyn created turned out to be their ultimate weapon to end the long war. In the end, the hideous Yethla had feasted on all the Elyn and their opposition, gaining the knowledge of two entire civilizations.

Eventually, the Yethla, with its newfound knowledge and combined mental powers, forced hundreds of Elyn and Urin engineers to modify their battle cruisers to fit their repulsive bloated bodies. Then it dined on them. Once the food supply was exhausted on both planets, the hungry Yethla sent out thought probes in an attempt to lure any unsuspecting live protoplasm to its dinner table, but to no avail. The problem was Elyn and Urin were thousands of light-years from the nearest inhabited world, and the Yethla thought probes fell far short of ever reaching an inhabited planet. Consequently, the Yethla left its comfortable home in the modified battle cruisers and went in search of the live protoplasm it so dearly craved.

Neither the Elyn nor Urin had achieved light-speed capacity, but it did not matter to the Yethla because it had developed the ability to go into a dormant state similar to hibernation. During this state, it did not burn energy and consequently did not require any type of nourishment, which enabled it to travel over great distances for an