Lena opened her eyes, blinded by the harsh light of the monitoring panels. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was, but the familiar smell of metallic air and the soft hum of the systems reminded her that she was on the Seventh Orbital. The previous evening, she and Max had celebrated the completion of a training module - a sort of futuristic baccalaureate for future Martian residents. Now, however, to her surprise, she saw no one in the wake-up pod except Max, who was just trying to unbuckle himself from the restraining straps. - 'Hey, Lena, do you know what's going on? - He asked, struggling to open his eyelids. His voice echoed strangely hollow in the white walls. No other crew members were visible through the transparent glass. Lena reached for the console against the wall. To her horror, most of the systems were offline - communications, ventilation, even the automated AI maintainer had gone silent. Where is everyone? After all, there should be at least forty people on the station. Instead of familiar sounds, all she could hear was the muffled ticking of her own watch. Max quickly recovered and walked over to the local computer. He entered his code, but instead of a welcome screen, an unfamiliar message appeared: "ACCESS RESTRICTED. PRIORITY: ALPHA. PROTOCOL 47." - I've never seen this before," Max whispered. - Do you think this is a drill? Some kind of simulation? Lena shook her head. - 'Emergency systems don't shut down in simulations. Someone would have to hack them on purpose. Then they heard a metallic clatter in the distance. Someone - or something - was approaching their section. The signals on the display flicked on and the door to the corridor began to slowly open....