Theta Mists Part Nine

 

Read Part One

Read Part Two

Read Part Three

Read Part Four

Read Part Five

Read Part Six

Read Part Seven

Read Part Eight

Part Nine

 

The armored convoy came to a halt, engines rumbling like an angry beast ready to pounce. Dust swirled around the vehicles, mingling with the faint, otherworldly haze of the Naerissyn, giving the scene an almost surreal glow. The soldiers disembarked with precision, forming a line that bristled with firepower.

Aiden, Kael, and Orin exchanged uneasy glances. Behind them, Jeph and Garret stood at attention, their military training instinctively kicking in, even after all these years. The Reavers lingered farther back, half-concealed in the alien undergrowth, their uneasy silence punctuated by the occasional scrape of a blade being drawn or a weapon being checked.

From the largest vehicle emerged the commander, his exosuit polished to a dull gleam that caught the weak light of Theta-13’s distant sun. His face was half-hidden by a visor, but the hard set of his jaw and the clipped efficiency of his movements made it clear he was a man accustomed to being obeyed.

“Step forward,” he barked, his voice amplified by the suit, reverberating like thunder.

Aiden took a deep breath and stepped forward, Kael and Orin flanking him like uneasy sentinels. Jeph and Garret followed a step behind, their hands hovering near their belts, where they carried the sidearms salvaged from the Reavers.

The commander’s visor retracted with a faint hiss, revealing cold, calculating eyes that swept over them like a predator sizing up its prey. He focused on Aiden, his lips curling into something that might have been a smirk or a sneer.

“Name,” the commander demanded.

“Aiden Sol,” he replied, his voice steady despite the knot tightening in his chest. “I’m the one you’re looking for.”

The commander’s gaze flicked to Kael, then Orin, and back to Aiden. “You’re a murderer, Sol. Fugitive. Wanted for the killing of one Lewis Carver. Why are you out here, in the company of armed mercenaries?”

Aiden’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t kill Lewis. You’ve got the wrong man.”

“That’s not what the colony records say,” the commander said, his tone as sharp as a blade. “You think I came all this way on a whim? We’ve been tracking you for weeks. And now I find you consorting with Reavers. Looks pretty damning from where I stand.”

Kael stepped forward, her chin tilted defiantly. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Quiet,” the commander snapped, his glare cutting through her like a knife. “You’ll speak when spoken to.”        

Kael bristled, but Aiden put a hand on her arm, a silent plea for restraint.

“I’m not denying I was there,” Aiden said, his voice low but firm. “But you’ve got it wrong. There’s more at stake here than one man’s life.”

The commander raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

Aiden hesitated, feeling the weight of every word that would follow. “The Seraphim—the Tyrsaelith—they’re real. They’ve been here long before us, and the colony’s drilling is destroying their home. If we don’t stop—if you don’t stop—there’s going to be a war. And it’s not one you can win.”

A muscle twitched in the commander’s jaw, but his expression remained unreadable. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Kael interjected, unable to hold back. “We’ve seen them. Spoke to them. This isn’t some fairy tale. They exist, and they’re not going to stand by while you rip their moon apart.”

The commander’s gaze shifted to her, then back to Aiden. “Interesting story. But it changes nothing.”

“What about the Reavers?” Aiden asked, his voice tinged with urgency. “They’re with us now. They’ve seen the Seraphim too. If you attack them, you’ll just be silencing the truth.”

The commander’s lips thinned into a grim line. “The Reavers are a blight. Always have been. The colony needs to maintain order, and their kind represents chaos. Illusions, as you call them, keep the peace.”

“You’re going to slaughter them,” Aiden said, his stomach sinking.

“They’ve made their choice,” the commander replied coldly, turning to his troops. “Squad Alpha, prepare to engage.”

The soldiers snapped to attention, their weapons primed, the low hum of energy cells filling the air.

“Wait!” Aiden shouted, stepping forward, but the soldiers leveled their rifles, stopping him in his tracks.

“Take them into custody,” the commander ordered.

Aiden felt rough hands grip his arms as the soldiers moved in, binding his wrists with cold, metallic restraints. He twisted his head to look back at the Reavers, their leader, Taron, meeting his gaze with a grim nod.

“We’ll hold them off,” Taron said, his voice carrying a steely resolve.

The Reavers began to fan out, their weapons drawn, their movements practiced and deliberate. They weren’t running. They were preparing to fight.

The soldiers advanced, their footsteps heavy and synchronized, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

Aiden was dragged toward the armored convoy, his heart pounding as he looked back one last time. The Reavers were readying for war, their ragtag force standing defiant against the polished might of the Space Marines.

As he was shoved into the transport, the first shot rang out, splitting the silence like a thunderclap.

 

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The transport’s armored interior was stifling, its walls painted in utilitarian gray that seemed to sap the air of hope. Aiden sat in silence, his wrists bound, his heart racing in time with the muffled sounds of conflict that seeped through the vehicle's hull. Beside him, Kael and Orin wore matching expressions of grim determination, their silence louder than words. Jeph and Garret sat across from them, their postures rigid, eyes fixed on the floor.

Then came the sound—a deafening eruption that shook the transport like an earthquake. Aiden’s head jerked toward the narrow view slit at the back. Outside, the Reavers had sprung their ambush, their hastily assembled ranks charging at the advancing Space Marines with a ferocity born of desperation.

“Damn fools,” Orin muttered, shaking his head as a scowl twisted his face. “They don’t stand a chance against that.”

Kael pressed her face to the slit, her expression tightening as she watched. “They’re being slaughtered.”

Aiden didn’t need to see to know the truth in her words. The steady, rhythmic hammering of the Marines’ energy cannons filled the air, each pulse of light visible even through the reinforced slit. The Reavers’ sporadic return fire was weak in comparison, a futile gesture against the overwhelming firepower of the soldiers.

Through the chaos, Aiden glimpsed Taron, the Reaver leader, rallying his people. He charged at the front, firing a scavenged rifle, his movements calculated but fearless. Around him, his people fell one by one, their blood staining the alien ground in gruesome patterns.

Kael pulled back from the slit, her face pale but furious. “We have to do something.”

“What exactly?” Orin snapped, his voice laced with bitterness. “Waltz out there and catch a bolt between the eyes? We’re prisoners, remember?”

Another explosion rattled the transport, and for a moment, Aiden thought it might tip over. He exchanged a glance with Jeph, whose face was taut with barely concealed anger.

“They’re going to wipe them out,” Jeph muttered. “Every last one of them.”

Suddenly, Kael straightened, her eyes wide. “Wait... look!”

Aiden craned his neck to peer through the slit again. Beyond the carnage, movement emerged from the treeline—figures rushing forward with fluid grace. Their arrival was heralded by a series of shimmering lights as energy projectiles, unlike any Aiden had seen before, arced through the air and struck the Marines' formation with pinpoint accuracy.

The Keepers.

They moved like shadows given life, their bodies adorned with lightweight armor that glimmered faintly in the dim light of Theta-13’s distant sun. Wielding weapons that pulsed with the same eerie energy as the Naerissyn, they descended upon the battlefield like vengeful spirits.

“Holy shit...” Orin breathed, his voice trailing off as the tide began to turn.

The Space Marines, caught off guard, scrambled to reorient their lines. The Keepers moved too quickly, their weapons cutting through the soldiers’ ranks with surgical precision. Where the Reavers had been disorganized and desperate, the Keepers were coordinated and deadly, their movements an unspoken symphony of retribution.

“It’s them,” Kael whispered, her voice thick with awe. “They came.”

The Reavers, emboldened by the reinforcements, rallied. Taron shouted orders, his voice cutting through the chaos as his people regrouped and surged forward.

Aiden’s stomach churned as he watched the battle unfold. The alien forest became a theater of death, the once-serene landscape now a tableau of fire and smoke. Every burst of energy lit the Naerissyn mist in eerie flashes, painting the combatants in ghostly hues.

“What do we do now?” Garret asked, his voice quiet but urgent.

Aiden shook his head, unable to tear his gaze away. “We wait,” he said, his voice heavy. “And hope.”

Another explosion rocked the transport, and this time, the door nearest them buckled slightly, the locks straining against the force.

“We might not have to wait long,” Orin muttered.

Kael leaned closer to Aiden, her voice low but fierce. “When that door gives, we run. We find Taron or the Keepers, whoever’s left, and we get out of here.”

Aiden nodded, though the weight in his chest made it hard to imagine escaping. The Reavers had been slaughtered moments ago, and now, even with the Keepers' arrival, the battle raged on with no clear end in sight.

Through the slit, he saw the Marines regrouping, their disciplined formations reforming under the barked commands of their officers. Despite the surprise of the Keepers’ attack, their superior numbers and firepower began to reassert control.

“We’re losing,” Aiden said softly, the words barely audible over the cacophony outside.

“No,” Kael said firmly, her hand gripping his arm. “Not yet. They’ve held this moon for centuries, Aiden. They won’t give up now.”

Another explosion, closer this time, rattled the vehicle so violently that the lights inside flickered.

And then, with a groan of tortured metal, the transport door was ripped open.

 

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The battle seemed to pause for a moment, the storm of violence caught in a surreal stillness as an otherworldly hum filled the air. It wasn’t a sound that could be easily explained, vibrating just beyond the threshold of hearing yet tangible enough to send shivers down Aiden’s spine.

The Seraphim—or Tyrsaelith, as they called themselves—descended like avenging angels from the canopy above. Their arrival was heralded by bursts of radiant energy from the Naerissyn, which responded to their presence like a long-lost ally. The glowing mist clung to them, outlining their elongated forms and vast, feathered wings with ethereal light.

Their movements were poetry in motion, equal parts grace and lethality. The Tyrsaelith dove into the chaos, their wings folding and snapping open with calculated precision, using air currents to maneuver with impossible agility. They struck with elongated limbs tipped with talon-like extensions, slicing through armor as though it were paper.

Aiden could do nothing but stare, awestruck and horrified. The Tyrsaelith fought as though they were born for it, weaving through the Space Marines’ ranks with unrelenting precision. One marine raised his weapon to fire, only to have a Tyrsaelith swoop down, grab the rifle in one taloned hand, and snap his helmeted head back with the other in a single fluid motion.

“They’re incredible,” Kael breathed, her voice barely audible over the cacophony.

“They’re monsters,” Orin muttered, though even his cynicism carried a grudging respect.

The Marines, for all their training and superior technology, were floundering. Their disciplined formations were useless against foes who defied every rule of combat. The Tyrsaelith moved faster than human reflexes could track, their attacks striking from angles that no amount of armor or strategy could predict.

And yet, the Marines were resilient. Their mechanized artillery barked in defiance, sending bursts of energy into the air. One lucky shot clipped the wing of a Tyrsaelith, sending the creature spiraling to the ground. But even grounded, it was deadly, slashing through its attackers with its talons before vaulting back into the fray.

Taron, the Reaver leader, shouted commands to his people, rallying them to the fight. The Reavers fought with a newfound ferocity, emboldened by the presence of their once-mythical allies. The Keepers, too, moved with a sense of purpose, their precision strikes coordinated with the Tyrsaelith in a way that suggested an unspoken understanding.

For the first time since the battle began, Aiden felt a flicker of hope.          

That hope was dashed the moment he saw the reinforcements.

More Marines poured from the dome in organized waves, their numbers seemingly endless. The sight of their gleaming armor and heavy artillery sent a wave of despair through the allied forces.

“We can’t hold this,” Jeph muttered, his voice tight.

“We won’t have to,” Kael said, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

Aiden followed her line of sight and felt his breath catch. The Seraphim were gathering, their leaders stepping forward from the battlefield with a presence that was both regal and terrifying. Valryn stood among them, translating their words for the humans.

One of the Tyrsaelith leaders, taller than the others with wings that shimmered like liquid silver, raised an arm. The Naerissyn responded, swirling around the battlefield in luminous tendrils. The mist seemed alive, weaving through the Marines’ ranks and sowing chaos in its wake.

Valryn’s voice, calm but urgent, carried over the din. “They say this cannot continue. The moon is dying. The energy you mine is its lifeblood, and it is being drained. They will not wait any longer.”

“What does that mean?” Aiden asked, though he already knew.

Valryn turned to him, her luminous eyes unreadable. “It means we march on the dome.”

Aiden felt his stomach drop. He looked to the others, searching for some sign of disagreement, of hesitation. But there was none.

Kael nodded, her expression grim. “It’s the only way.”

Orin let out a bitter laugh. “Suicide, you mean. But sure, why not?”

Aiden swallowed hard, the weight of inevitability settling over him. The dream of returning to Earth, of seeing his wife and daughter again, felt impossibly distant now. He’d always known, deep down, that this journey might end with him buried beneath Theta-13’s alien soil.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his chest.

The Tyrsaelith leaders raised their wings in unison, a signal that rippled through the battlefield. The combined forces of Seraphim, Reavers, and Keepers began to move, their ranks forming an unbreakable tide of resistance.

Behind them, the battlefield still smoldered, the corpses of Marines and Reavers alike testament to the cost of the fight. Ahead, the dome of the colony loomed, its polished surface reflecting the dim light of Theta-13’s distant suns.

Aiden took a deep breath and followed, his steps heavy with the weight of what lay ahead.