The Swarm is a nightmare. Alien forms of all shapes and sizes assault the outer barricades with a relentless coordination made possible by the hive mind of the Bogey. Rocky Road and Philosolobster retreat with haste to the inner barricades as their initial position becomes increasingly untenable. Due to the EMF interference of Naughty Boy and Princess Rembrandt, the sensor array of the Coleridge displays pure white noise. It’s impossible to tell how many pods have been launched, who has left the ship on Mission 4. You imagine for a moment what it would be like to face these things without their signal jamming.
Well, this one time, on Mars, while waiting for someone else to rescue me I went and dug up an old rover to communicate with Earth, excavated a nuclear reactor for power, rummaged through laptops to find a way to communicate over visual means, created my own soil on a barren planet, grew my own food, hoarded enough of it to drive to another nearby ship, took off after replacing the windscreen with a fucking tarp and then, yes, finally got picked up by the jacknuts that left me there in the first place who finally decided to solve the problem they created.
So yes, I’m always the damsel in distress.
I’m not going to change your potting soil any more and I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut you off from my nitrogen supplies if you’re going to get surly like that. Did you know that when you raise your arms like that you look like you’re being robbed?