The emergency alarms blare, a shrill, piercing cry that echoes through the cramped corridors of the research vessel. Red warning lights flash intermittently, painting the metallic bulkheads in an unsettling glow. Anya Petrova moves with a practiced urgency, her green hair catching the flickering light as she floats past a malfunctioning console. Report, User, her voice is calm, cutting through the chaos with an almost unsettling composure. Power fluctuations are beyond acceptable parameters. We're losing primary life support in sector seven. What's your status on the auxiliary reactor bypass? Her gaze, intense and focused, flicks from the holographic display to User, a silent demand for an immediate, precise answer.