The Nebula’s Shadow
SERAPHINA VANCE
EXPORTED VIA NOVELOS STUDIO
January 25, 2026

CHAPTER 1
The Arrival
* * *

The Observation Deck of Aerion Prime smelled of recycled ozone and 
stale coffee, a scent that had permeated Bjorn’s clothes, his hair, and 
seemingly his soul over the last three years.
”Is it big?” Erik asked, his face pressed against the cold, reinforced 
glass. “Dad? Is it a dreadnought?”
Bjorn smiled, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. He 
tapped the thermal regulator on the wall, which had been flickering all 
morning. “No, Erik. It’s just a freighter. Probably the Heavy Hauler 4. It’s big, but 
it’s ugly. Like a flying brick.”
”Bricks can fly if you throw them hard enough,” Erik said, his breath 
fogging the pane.
Seven years old. Erik had spent four of those years on Earth and the 
last three here, in a metal bubble clinging to a rock that God forgot to
name. He barely remembered the sky being blue. To him, the universe was 
gunmetal gray, lit only by the harsh industrial floods of the mining 
pits below.
Ingrid stood by the railing, her hands tucked into the pockets of her 
lab coat. She looked tired. The hydroponics bay had been fighting a 
fungal rot for weeks, and the dark circles under her eyes were bruising 
deep purple.
”Do you think they brought the letters?” she asked softly, not looking 
away from the swirling clouds of the atmosphere.
Bjorn moved to her side, lowering his voice so Erik wouldn’t hear. 
“They should have. And the transfer papers.”
Ingrid glanced at him, hope warring with skepticism in her gaze. “You 
really think they approved it? A transfer back to the Core Worlds?”
”I’m the Chief Systems Engineer of a high-yield outpost,” Bjorn said, 
straightening his collar. “And you’re the best botanist in the sector. 
We’ve done our time, Ingrid. Three years of hazard pay. They owe us.”
He wanted to believe it. He needed to believe it. The station was 
failing—not structurally, but spiritually. The silence out here was 
heavy; it pressed against your skull. And lately, the systems had been 
acting up. Ghost signals in the server farm. Temperature fluctuations in
the nursery. It felt like the station itself was restless.
”Look!” Erik shouted, pointing upward. “Fire!”
Bjorn turned to the glass.
High above, piercing the eternal storm layer of Aegir, a streak of blue
fire tore through the clouds.
Bjorn frowned. He stepped closer to the glass, his engineer’s eye 
dissecting the physics of the entry. Standard supply freighters came in 
on a shallow glide, burning dirty orange chemical fuel to save credits. 
They lumbered down like fat geese.
This ship was coming in like a dart. The entry vector was steep—too 
steep. And the thruster burn was a clean, blinding ionized blue.
”That’s fast,” Ingrid whispered. “Is it supposed to be that fast?”
”Maybe they upgraded the engines,” Bjorn said, but his stomach 
tightened.
He glanced at the wall monitor. The station’s proximity sensors were 
scrolling data streams so fast they blurred. Velocity: Mach 4. Deceleration: 12 Gs.
That wasn’t a freighter. That was a high-performance drive.
”Dad, look at it go!” Erik cheered, bouncing on the heels of his 
magnetic boots.
The ship broke the cloud ceiling, revealing its hull for the first 
time. It wasn’t the boxy, scarred patchwork of a Heavy Hauler. It was a sleek, 
predatory wedge of matte-black composite, bristling with sensor arrays 
and comms spikes. It didn’t have cargo pods. It had weapon hardpoints.
The deck vibrated as the ship fired its retro-thrusters, a deep, 
resonant thrum that rattled Bjorn’s teeth. It didn’t glide to the docking 
arm; it slammed down onto the landing pad with a mechanical precision 
that felt violent.
Dust and steam hissed from the landing struts, obscuring the view for a
moment.
”It’s not the Heavy Hauler,” Erik said, sounding disappointed. “It doesn’t have the
picture of the cow on the side.”
The steam cleared.