The Odyssey slid into the Veiled Nebula like a swimmer diving into a thick, purple soup. The moment they crossed the edge of the swirling gas clouds, the ship's systems started to act strange.
The main viewscreen, which usually showed a crystal-clear view of space, filled with a fuzzy, dancing static, like an old television that couldn't find a channel. The friendly, calm hum of the ship's engines was joined by a low, weird buzz that seemed to come from the walls themselves.
"Sensors are all over the place," Zara reported from her station, her fingers flying across her console. "I can't get a clear reading on anything farther than a few kilometers away. It's like this whole nebula is designed to make us blind."
"Long-range communications are down, too," Emma added, her brow furrowed in concentration. "We're completely cut off. No one can hear us, and we can't call for help."
