Theta Mists Part Four

Read Part One

Read Part Two

Read Part Three

Part Four

 

        

       

    

            Aiden stared at the low, uneven ceiling of the chamber, its surface etched with intricate carvings of alien origin. Despite his exhaustion, sleep had eluded him for most of the night. Every time he closed his eyes, the faces of his wife and daughter flashed before him, pixelated and distant, distorted by his mind’s relentless churn. It felt surreal. Just a few days ago, he had been working a drill in the mines, the rhythmic thud of machinery as constant as his own heartbeat. He had glanced at the calendar in his quarters daily, counting down the Earth-days until he’d be home, savoring mundane fantasies of home-cooked meals and his daughter’s laughter.

Now, the simple notion of survival felt out of reach.

The chamber door creaked open, and Kael entered first, her movements fluid and deliberate. Ryu followed close behind, his presence commanding even in the dim light of the bioluminescent fungi clinging to the walls. The leader of the Keepers settled himself onto a carved stone bench across from Aiden, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning the man as if weighing his worth for the hundredth time. Kael leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable but her body language taut with purpose.

“Morning,” Ryu said, his gravelly voice breaking the silence. It wasn’t a greeting so much as a signal to begin.

Aiden sat up, rubbing his face. “Morning,” he replied, though it didn’t feel like one. The cycle of light and darkness outside the dome had always been a faint mimicry of Earth’s day-night rhythm, but here, beneath the alien canopy of the forest, it was utterly disconnected.

Ryu leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We need to talk about our next move. There isn’t much time.”

“What next move?” Aiden’s voice was hoarse. “I didn’t sign up for this. I just want to clear my name, get my contract done, and go home. This… all of this isn’t my fight.”

Kael pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “It is your fight, whether you want it to be or not. You’re the first outsider to encounter the Seraphim and live. That makes you the lynchpin.”

Aiden opened his mouth to argue, but Ryu cut him off with a raised hand. “You need to understand what’s at stake here,” he said. “Theta-13 isn’t just a moon with resources to exploit. It’s a living ecosystem, teeming with life that the corporations barely acknowledge. Most of it is harmless, but the Seraphim… they’re different. They’re the moon’s guardians.”

“Guardians?” Aiden asked, skepticism creeping into his tone.

Ryu nodded. “They’re sentient. They live off the moon’s energies, drawing sustenance from its geothermal currents and the magnetic fields that crisscross its core. The mining operations are disrupting that balance, digging deeper than they ever have before. If the Seraphim are mobilizing, it’s because they see it as an existential threat.”

Kael added, “And they’re right. The colony’s greed is pushing them to the brink. But here’s the problem—even if the Seraphim are far stronger and more adaptable than us, they’re no match for the technology of the colony.... and certainly not the Navy or Marines. If it comes to open conflict, the Seraphim will be eradicated. Completely.”

Aiden shook his head, his thoughts racing. “Then why don’t we just… leave them alone? If they’re so dangerous, why not back off and let them be?”   

Kael’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Because corporations don’t leave anything alone. They’ll keep drilling, keep stripping the moon bare, until there’s nothing left. And once the Seraphim strike back—and they will—the colony will use it as justification to annihilate them. We can’t let that happen.”

Aiden’s stomach churned. The enormity of the situation pressed down on him like a physical weight. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ryu leaned back, his expression unyielding. “We need to find the Seraphim. If they revealed themselves to you, it means they’ve chosen you for something. Maybe you’re a messenger. Maybe you’re a warning. Either way, we need to make contact before it’s too late.”

Aiden laughed bitterly. “Contact? With the things that killed Lewis? How do you know they won’t just kill me too?”

Kael’s gaze softened, but her voice remained firm. “Because they didn’t. They showed themselves to you for a reason. You’re proof that they exist. That makes you invaluable.”

Ryu stood, signaling the end of the conversation. “The journey will be perilous. The deeper into the forest we go, the stranger and more dangerous the terrain becomes. But it’s the only way. If we don’t act now, the colony’s greed will destroy everything.”

Aiden’s head throbbed with the weight of their words. He wanted to protest, to demand they leave him out of it, but he couldn’t. The truth was, he didn’t have a choice. Whatever slim hope he had of clearing his name and returning to his family now rested on this impossible mission—a journey to find beings he barely understood, in a world he no longer recognized.

He exhaled shakily and rose to his feet. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s go find your Seraphim.”

 

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            The wilderness of Theta-13 stretched before them, a kaleidoscope of the alien and the extraordinary. Aiden, Kael, and the twins, Jeph and Garret, moved with cautious determination, each step taking them farther from the familiar constraints of the dome. Jeph and Garret, former space marines turned rogue survivalists, brought an air of rugged authority to the group. Their armor, an amalgamation of military-grade plating and scavenged materials, shimmered faintly with an iridescent hue, a byproduct of adaptive camo tech that bent light to match their surroundings. Each carried an array of compact weapons that looked like they had been plucked from the pages of a science fiction novel: plasma-edged machetes, pulse pistols with variable charge settings, and a kinetic rifle capable of firing silent, high-speed projectiles.

Kael led the group with an almost supernatural confidence, her movements sure despite the uneven terrain. A small drone hovered near her shoulder, its disc-like body emitting a soft hum as it scanned their path. Its pale green light flickered across the ground, searching for potential threats or traps. Aiden carried a simpler load—a field pack filled with rations and a hand-held scanner Kael had thrust into his hands before they left. The scanner pulsed faintly in his grip, its readout displaying cryptic lines of data that might as well have been hieroglyphs to him.

The landscape was a surreal mosaic of beauty and menace. Massive fungal structures towered overhead, their caps glowing faintly with bioluminescence. Their undersides pulsed with slow, rhythmic light, as though they were breathing. Vines as thick as a man’s arm snaked across the ground, pulsating faintly as if they were arteries in some vast, organic network. The air smelled faintly metallic, mingled with the sharp tang of ozone, and a faint mist rolled across the terrain, giving the illusion of an ever-present dawn. Occasionally, strange creatures darted through the underbrush: six-legged creatures with translucent, chitinous shells, and bird-like things with elongated necks that seemed to vanish into the haze as quickly as they appeared.

Aiden’s boots crunched against a brittle, crystalline crust that coated the ground in places, its fractured edges catching the light and casting tiny rainbows. He couldn’t help but marvel at the stark contrast to the drudgery of the mines. Here, the moon seemed alive, vibrant, and teeming with secrets. Yet the weight of their mission hung heavy in his mind.

After hours of trekking through the alien wilderness, Aiden broke the silence, his voice hesitant. “Kael,” he began, “I’ve been thinking about something. If the atmosphere here isn’t lethal, what happens to the people they’ve… ejected?”

Kael paused, glancing back at him. Her expression was unreadable, her gaze sharp under the visor of her environmental mask. “You really want to know?” she asked, her voice low.

Aiden nodded, a knot tightening in his stomach.

“It’s a lie,” she said simply. “The ejection is a show. A deterrent. The fear of it keeps people in line. They’re not tossed into the wilderness to fend for themselves. They’re executed behind closed doors. Bodies incinerated. No trace left.”

The words hit Aiden like a punch to the gut. He stumbled slightly, the crystalline crust crunching loudly underfoot. “But why keep it a secret?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Kael shrugged. “Easier to maintain order if people think there’s a chance, however slim, that someone might survive out here. Fear is a powerful tool. Hope, even false hope, is an even stronger one.”

The group fell into silence once more, the revelation sitting heavy in the air. Aiden couldn’t shake the image of himself strapped into an ejection pod, the door closing with a metallic hiss, the abyss of Theta-13 looming large before him. He’d been so certain the outside was instant death. Now, the thought that countless people had met their end in sterile execution chambers back in the dome made his blood run cold.

As they pressed deeper into the wilderness, the alien forest began to change. The luminous fungi grew scarcer, replaced by massive, spindly trees with bark that shimmered like liquid mercury. Their twisted roots coiled above the ground, forming intricate knots and arches, creating natural tunnels that the group had to duck through. The air grew thicker, the metallic tang replaced by an earthy musk that reminded Aiden of damp soil after rain. Strange, flickering lights darted among the trees, too fast to focus on, leaving Aiden wondering if they were some kind of bioluminescent insects or simply tricks of his mind.

“We’re close,” Kael said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice carried a note of anticipation, though Aiden couldn’t tell if it was excitement or dread.

The group crested a small rise, and there it was: an abandoned outpost, its skeletal structure rising from the forest floor like the remains of a long-dead beast. The walls were scorched and weathered, vines creeping over the metal panels and weaving through shattered windows. A rusted antenna jutted skyward at an awkward angle, its tip broken and hanging limply by a tangle of cables. The faint glow of the forest seemed to dim as they approached, as though the outpost absorbed the light around it.

Aiden felt a chill crawl up his spine as they drew closer. Something about the place felt… wrong.

Kael halted at the edge of the clearing, her hand raised in a silent signal for the others to stop. She scanned the structure with her drone, the device’s light flickering erratically as if it too sensed the unease of the place.

“What is this place?” Aiden whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own breathing.

Kael didn’t answer immediately. She lowered her arm, her gaze fixed on the outpost. “Let’s just say it has a history,” she murmured, her tone heavy with implication. She glanced at Aiden. “Stay close. We’re not alone here.”

The words hung in the air as the group began to move forward, the outpost looming larger with every step.

 

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            The air inside the outpost was stale, carrying a faint tang of ozone that clung to the walls like a stubborn memory. The structure—a low, angular compound half-buried in the silty ground of Theta-13’s wilderness—was a relic of Earth’s first attempts to colonize the moon. Kael led the group through a series of narrow corridors, her steps purposeful but cautious, as though she expected the ghosts of the past to materialize at any moment.

“This place used to be an Earth Marine outpost,” she explained, her voice echoing in the empty halls. “It was abandoned decades ago when the mining colony was established. The brass decided it was more cost-effective to centralize everything under the domes.” She stopped at a rusted hatch, pressing a palm against its surface as though feeling for a pulse. “But not everyone left.”

Aiden’s brows furrowed as he glanced around. The walls were scrawled with faded graffiti—symbols and slogans he didn’t recognize, remnants of the soldiers who had once called this place home. The floor beneath his boots felt uneven, warped by time and disrepair. “We’re looking for someone who lives here?” he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

“Lives is a strong word,” Kael replied, a wry smile flickering across her lips. “Dwells, maybe. Hides. Survives.”

“Who is he?” Jeph spoke up, his voice a gravelly baritone that carried an undercurrent of impatience. “And why would he help us?”

Kael turned to face the group, her expression darkening. “His name is Orin Drake. He was once one of us, a Keeper. But… let’s just say he didn’t quite fit in.”

Garret let out a dry chuckle. “Didn’t fit in how? Did he refuse to bow to your high-and-mighty ideals?”

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Orin has… a proclivity for a certain drink. Something we call Starfire. It’s a synthetic alcohol—potent, addictive, and… unpredictable. The stuff messes with your head in ways that go beyond simple intoxication. He got hooked, and it made him unreliable. Dangerous.”

Aiden frowned. “You banished him because he drank too much?”

“We banished him because he’d pick fights, steal supplies, and jeopardize missions,” Kael shot back. “But for all his flaws, Orin knows this moon better than anyone. And he’s the only person who’s claimed to see the Seraphim and lived to tell the tale. His descriptions match what you’ve said, Aiden. He might be our best chance at finding them.”

“Assuming he doesn’t try to kill us the moment we find him,” Garret muttered, hefting his plasma rifle as though preparing for the worst.

Kael ignored the comment, turning back to the hatch. She rapped her knuckles against the metal,        the sound echoing through the corridor like a gunshot. “Orin! It’s Kael! Open up!”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, a gruff voice called out from the other side. “Kael? Is that really you, or have the shadows finally taken my sanity?”

“It’s me,” Kael said, her tone softening. “And I’ve brought company. We need your help.”

The hatch creaked open, revealing a man who looked as though he’d been carved from the very rock of Theta-13. Orin Drake was tall and wiry, his frame draped in a patchwork of worn fabrics and salvaged armor. His face was weathered, his skin etched with lines that spoke of hard years and harder living. A scraggly beard framed his jaw, and his eyes—piercing and bloodshot—held a flicker of wary intelligence.

“Help, huh?” Orin’s gaze swept over the group, lingering on Aiden. “And who’s this? New recruit? Or a sacrifice for the moon’s mercy?”

Aiden bristled but said nothing, unsure of how to respond. Kael stepped forward, her voice firm. “This is Aiden. He’s seen the Seraphim.”

Orin’s eyes widened, his expression shifting from skepticism to something resembling awe. “You’ve seen them?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I… I think so,” Aiden stammered. “It was dark, and it happened so fast, but… yeah. I saw something.”

Orin nodded slowly, a strange smile tugging at his lips. “Then you’ve seen what the rest of them only dream of. Or fear.” He stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. “Come in. Let’s talk. We have much in common... but be warned: the moon’s secrets come at a price.”

As they stepped into Orin’s domain, Aiden couldn’t help but feel that he was crossing a threshold—not just into the outpost, but into a deeper, darker truth about Theta-13 and the Seraphim. Whatever lay ahead, it was clear there was no turning back.