When linking up and intentionally crashing the support systems on a survival pod, you have to know what you’re doing.

Each pod is designed to keep its occupant alive and revivable under any conditions, outside of a complete burst or decompression or hull breach. Excluding those extreme situations, the occupant of a survival pod is completely protected until assistance can arrive and reclaim the craft. Even in the event that power or O2 fail or run short in supply, an emergency backup system immediately floods the compartment of the craft with a chemical gas mixture and a separate liquid nutrient formulation to create a stable, foam-like anesthesia/nutrient media throughout the entire interior. Those that work on these crafts refer to the process as “frothing.” I hear that it’s a nasty experience, complete with full-body spasms and choking. Eventually, the sedative takes over and you become completely dormant.

Obviously, the purpose is to immediately put the occupant into a chemically-induced hibernation stasis that will allow the survival pod to continue its operation on low power until an authorized recovery. In the end, I hear that it actually takes quite a bit of work to remove the dense foam from the body and revive the subject. Nevertheless, in order to shut the whole system down, using the remote management system, you have to know how to deactivate the stasis “frother” systems first [image attached]. Once again, my three years working with engineering and mechanics on ships of this type taught me how to effectively “kill” a survival pod and its occupant. But I didn’t do that. I withdrew. I had to. It made little sense. And it was maddening.

[Communication sent: 06JAN2186 Shinkai Maru 5]


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