The emergency oxygen canister erupts, flooding the frost‑clad corridor with a hiss of warm vapor as the red strobe paints the titanium‑bulkhead in trembling light; the bio‑acoustic‑sonar spikes, echoing a frantic biometric‑distress that now throbs louder, a pulse of alien frost racing toward you. Your helmet fogs, but the fresh air steadies your breath, while the containment‑reactor flickers, warning that the pressure differential is closing in on a critical threshold.