Theta Mists Part Ten

 

Read Part One

Read Part Two

Read Part Three

Read Part Four

Read Part Five

Read Part Six

Read Part Seven

Read Part Eight

Read Part Nine

Part Ten

 

The dome loomed like an ominous titan in the distance, its surface reflecting a ghostly sheen through the ever-thickening mist. The Naerissyn had risen to a suffocating density, transforming the battlefield into an ethereal abyss. Every step forward felt like wading into a dream—or a nightmare—where the world dissolved into shifting light and shadow.

Aiden squinted, barely able to make out the figures beside him. The Seraphim stood tall and still, their luminous forms partially obscured by the swirling mist. It clung to them like a living thing, curling around their wings and limbs in a silent embrace. Valryn was at the center, her eyes closed as if communing with the very essence of the moon itself.

“It’s fighting back,” Valryn murmured, her voice carrying an unearthly resonance. She opened her eyes, the glow within them intensified. “The moon knows its end is near. This mist is its lament.”

Aiden shivered, though the air was warm and humid. The weight of the Naerissyn pressed down on him, making each breath feel heavier, more labored. The moon itself was dying, and they were standing on the pulse of its last moments.

The army behind him waited in tense silence, their unease palpable. The Reavers fidgeted nervously, their makeshift weapons clinking against each other, while the Keepers stood resolute, their expressions grim but determined.

Valryn turned to Aiden and Kael, her expression a mask of controlled fury. “The Tyrsaelith want to move now,” she said. “The longer we wait, the closer the mining operations come to the core. If the Naerissyn is drained entirely, there will be no saving this world—nor us.”

Aiden glanced at Kael, who stood with her shoulders squared despite the exhaustion etched into her face. He could see the weight of the past days pressing on her, yet her eyes still burned with defiance.

“We have to try diplomacy first,” Kael said firmly, her voice cutting through the mist.

Valryn’s lip curled, her alien elegance twisted with impatience. “Diplomacy? With those who have butchered this world and its guardians? They will not listen.”

“They might listen to me,” Aiden said, surprising even himself with the conviction in his voice.

All eyes turned to him. The Reavers muttered among themselves, the Seraphim narrowed their glowing eyes, and Kael raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think that?” Valryn asked, her tone sharp.

“I don’t,” Aiden admitted. “But we’ve got nothing to lose by trying. If we can get them to stop the mining, even for a moment, it might buy us enough time to figure out something better than just... charging in and starting a bloodbath.”

Kael nodded, stepping forward to stand beside him. “If we rush in now, we’ll give them exactly what they’re expecting—a reason to fight back. They’ll call for reinforcements, and we’ll be wiped out.”

Valryn’s gaze flicked between the two of them, her jaw tight with suppressed emotion. Finally, she looked to the Seraphim leaders behind her, exchanging silent words in a language that was more feeling than sound.

“They will give you a chance,” she said at last, her voice heavy with reluctance. “But know this: their patience is thin. If you fail, there will be no stopping them.”

Aiden swallowed hard, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders. He nodded, turning to Kael. “Guess we’re doing this.”

Kael gave him a wry smile. “You’re the one who wanted to play diplomat.”

The two of them stepped forward, the crowd parting to let them pass. Jeph and Garret moved to follow, but Kael shook her head. “Stay here. If things go sideways, we’ll need you ready.”

The twins hesitated but ultimately obeyed, their faces grim.

Aiden and Kael approached the dome, its surface looming larger with every step. The gate was a monstrous thing, reinforced with layers of steel and bristling with automated turrets. It exuded an aura of unwelcoming authority, as though it could crush their hopes with its mere presence.

As they neared, a sharp mechanical hiss broke the silence. A slit in the gate slid open, revealing a single set of eyes peering out at them.

“State your business,” a voice crackled through a hidden speaker. “

Aiden stepped forward, his throat dry. “My name is Aiden Sol. You’re looking for me. I’m here to surrender.”

There was a long pause, during which Aiden’s heartbeat seemed to echo in the mist. Finally, the voice returned, colder than before.

“And the other one?”

“She’s with me,” Aiden said quickly. “We’re not here to fight. We just want to talk.”

Another pause, longer this time. Aiden glanced at Kael, who gave him a small nod of encouragement.

The voice returned, more grudging than before. “Stand by.”

The gate rumbled, gears grinding and locks disengaging. Aiden’s pulse quickened as the massive doors began to slide open, revealing a stark, industrial interior bathed in harsh white light.

As he and Kael stepped inside, the door began to close behind them, cutting off the mist and the sight of the army waiting beyond.

Aiden felt a chill run down his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was from the sudden absence of the Naerissyn or the knowledge that he had just stepped into the lion’s den.

 

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The colony was a sprawling, artificial organism of metal and neon, every inch of it pulsating with the hum of machinery and life. Aiden and Kael were flanked by two towering Space Marines, their exoskeletal armor clanking with each step. Their escort cut through the streets like a blade, forcing the bustling crowd to part.

The air was heavy with the sharp tang of ozone, mingling with the greasy aroma of street food frying on open grills. Fluorescent signs in a dozen languages flickered and buzzed overhead, advertising everything from synthetic meat skewers to memory implant services. Markets stretched along narrow corridors, their vendors hawking wares with the desperation of people who had never known a day of surplus.

As Aiden walked, his name buzzed through the crowd like an electric current. Aiden Sol. The name carried weight here, though not the kind he wanted.

Children darted through the throng, their glowing cybernetic eyes wide with curiosity. Adults stood frozen in the doorways of dimly lit shops, muttering amongst themselves. The news had spread fast: the fugitive miner had returned, escorted by marines no less, and after a battle outside the dome.

Aiden’s stomach churned as he caught snippets of their whispers.

“... thought he’d be dead by now...”

“... murdered Lewis, didn’t he? What’s he doing back here?”

“... heard there’s something in the mist... something they don’t want us to know...”

Kael walked beside him, her eyes darting across the faces in the crowd. Her hand twitched near her hip, where her weapon would have been if they hadn’t confiscated it. Aiden could tell she was itching to do something—anything—but for once, even she seemed at a loss.

Above them, surveillance drones zipped along on nearly silent thrusters, their lenses swiveling to capture the spectacle. Holo-screens projected images of Aiden’s face alongside bold red letters: Fugitive Detained. Murder Suspect Returns.

“This is surreal,” Kael muttered under her breath, her voice low enough that only Aiden could hear.

Aiden couldn’t bring himself to respond. His mind was a tangled mess of dread and exhaustion, his thoughts snagging on the faces of the crowd. These were his people—or at least, they had been. Now they stared at him like he was some kind of myth come to life, a boogeyman dragged out of the mist.

The escort led them into the heart of the colony, where the architecture shifted from utilitarian to imposing. Steel gave way to reinforced glass and polished chrome, the neon lighting replaced with a sterile white glow. The air grew colder, the hum of machinery quieter, as if even the colony itself understood the gravity of this place.

Finally, they arrived at a massive set of double doors, flanked by guards with plasma rifles. The doors hissed open, revealing a chamber that seemed almost out of place in the otherwise industrial colony.

The room was cavernous, its walls lined with screens displaying real-time data feeds: mining operations, atmospheric conditions, and surveillance footage from the dome’s outskirts. At its center was a long, sleek table surrounded by high-backed chairs, each one occupied by a member of the colony’s ruling council.

The council members were a motley collection of corporate executives, military officials, and scientists, their faces lined with years of pragmatism and power. At the head of the table sat a man who exuded authority, his sharp features illuminated by the blue glow of a nearby screen.

Aiden’s heart sank as he recognized him: Governor Rourke, the man who had signed his arrest warrant.

The doors slid shut behind them with a heavy finality, cutting off the sounds of the colony. Aiden exchanged a glance with Kael, her expression unreadable but her posture tense.

“Well,” Rourke said, his voice smooth and cold as steel. “This is a surprise.”           

Aiden swallowed hard, his mouth dry. He took a step forward, the weight of a thousand eyes and a dying moon pressing down on him.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

The governor leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze locked onto Aiden.

“Oh, I’m sure we do,” Rourke replied, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

 

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The chamber was a cold, calculated heart of power, every surface gleaming with precision and sterility. Aiden stood before the council, Kael at his side, feeling like an insect under a magnifying glass. Governor Rourke’s piercing gaze weighed on him, dissecting every word before he even spoke it.

“We’re not asking for much,” Aiden began, his voice firm but fraying at the edges. “Just a temporary halt to the drilling. We need time to—”

“To what?” Rourke cut in, his tone sharp as shattered glass. “Stir up more trouble? Cause more delays? Do you have any idea what the margins on this operation are? Every second we pause costs millions. Billions, even.”

Kael stepped forward, her eyes blazing with defiance. “This isn’t just about margins. This is about survival. You’re killing the moon, and if you don’t stop—”

“Enough,” snapped one of the council members, a woman with a face so tight it looked carved from stone. “We’ve entertained your theatrics long enough.”

“Theatrics?” Aiden shot back, his frustration breaking through. “You think this is some kind of game? I’ve seen what’s out there. The Seraphim—the Tyrsaelith—they’re not going to sit by and let you tear their world apart.”

The room went silent at the mention of the Seraphim. Aiden scanned the faces of the council members, expecting disbelief or confusion. What he saw instead was something far worse: recognition.

“You already know,” Kael said, her voice low and venomous. “Don’t you?”

Rourke leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “We’ve known for years,” he admitted, his voice laced with cold indifference. “We’ve studied them, monitored them. And frankly, they’re irrelevant.”

“Irrelevant?” Aiden’s voice rose, incredulous. “They’re an intelligent species, a culture older than anything we’ve ever encountered! You can’t just wipe them out!”

“Can’t we?” Rourke’s smirk returned, a predator’s smile. “A naval fleet is en route as we speak. They’ll be here within days, and when they arrive, this little uprising of yours—your Seraphim, your Reavers, your Keepers—will be nothing more than a footnote in the colony’s history.”

Kael clenched her fists, her body trembling with barely contained rage. “You’re signing the death warrant for this entire moon. For what? Profits? Expansion?”

“For humanity,” Rourke said, his voice dripping with condescension. “This moon’s resources are critical to our survival back on Earth. We can’t afford sentimentality.”

Aiden felt the weight of Rourke’s words settle over him like a lead shroud. He thought of the Seraphim—their haunting beauty, their deep connection to the moon—and the Reavers and Keepers who had fought to preserve this fragile ecosystem. All of it, dismissed as collateral damage.

“This is madness,” Aiden said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Rourke replied, his tone chillingly calm. “This is progress.”

The guards moved in before Aiden or Kael could react, their heavy boots echoing in the chamber. Plasma cuffs snapped around their wrists, the faint hum of energy cutting off any hope of resistance.

“You’re making a mistake,” Kael spat, struggling against the guards’ grip.

Rourke stood, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. “The only mistake,” he said, “was letting you cause as much trouble as you have. Consider yourselves lucky. Treason usually carries a far harsher sentence.”

As they were dragged toward the chamber doors, Aiden turned his head, his voice breaking through the sterile quiet. “What about the people out there? The Reavers, the Keepers—they’ll fight. You can’t stop them.”

“They’ll be dealt with,” Rourke said simply. “And so will you.”

The doors hissed shut behind them, cutting off the cold, unyielding light of the chamber. As Aiden and Kael were hauled through the sterile corridors, the weight of their failure pressed down on them like the collapsing heavens.

“Great plan, Sol,” Kael muttered bitterly. “Really nailed it.”

Aiden didn’t respond. His thoughts were already spiraling, not toward escape or strategy, but toward the faces of his wife and daughter, faces he would likely never see again.