The console sputters to life, its holo-screen casting a sickly crimson wash over the crystalline‑black frost as the bio‑acoustic sonar crackles with a distorted voice‑log, while your suit’s thermal layers hiss under the parasitic frost’s icy tendrils. A shrill containment‑reactor alarm syncs with the emergency strobe, and the titanium bulkhead shudders under ten‑thousand‑atmospheres, forcing your biometric‑distress monitor into a red warning.