I’ll set the scene for you: The wind is still howling, the worst of the storm as passed but it’s not quite over. The station is in ruins, all around you is destruction. Seven months of work, all gone. You and a handful of Alpha Centauri engineers are huddled in the “panic pod”, the E26 Crew Emergency Shelter. While there’s enough M5 ration packs to last a week, your future is uncertain, and this is on everyone’s mind as you all stoically look at each other. The lights flicker in the pod, and everyone instinctively looks at the fuel cell monitor, the LCD is cracked, but it still functions, it flashes a grim message…”Vapor barrier compromised, safety protocol initiated”. You all know what that means, less than 12 hours of heat and light, this pod just became a coffin. As you all wrap your head around this heartbreaking reality you hear a muffled, rhythmic pounding. As you cautiously peer out of the single view of the world around you, a small round window with scratched 4 inch sapphire glass, the sound becomes louder. In the distance, obscured by flying dust and debris, a shape emerges from the haze. A large, bipedal figure looms ominously, but instead of fear or dread, you can barely contain your joy. “It’s Lenny!” you exclaim as the other crew members shout out in excitement, you are saved.