Station Omega
You pull out the wiring tool from your belt and begin rerouting power from life support, watching as oxygen levels drop on the console's display. The hiss of air vents slows, and you take one final deep breath, bracing yourself to finish the amplification before the station becomes a suffocating tomb.The growing sensation of unseen eyes on you becomes unbearable. You abandon the broadcast and dart into a nearby maintenance shaft, crawling through the claustrophobic space to find a safer location to regroup and rethink your strategy.As you work, you sense movement in the corner of your vision—a shadow slipping closer. Heart pounding, you grab a nearby wrench and step into the darkness, ready to confront whatever is stalking you.Instead of broadcasting manually, you connect the signal to the station’s failing AI core, hoping it can amplify and automate the distress call. As you initiate the upload, the AI’s voice crackles to life, but its tone is fragmented and ominous: “You… shouldn’t… have… done… this.”