Habitat 9 is an alien planet that is able to sustain life. Station 9 crashed into the planet due to unknown issues, after a few years the crew managed to scrap bits and pieces and pull together a somewhat decent civilized area.
Twilight floods the space-suspended vessel as its fragile aluminum frame rattles, violently aching and squealing, and panic is awoken from its optimistic slumber in the dawn of unforeseen disaster. The universe embraces its wayward nature. Red flashing lights signifying danger catch a spark in the lens of confused men and women jolting from their peaceful sleep in a sudden flutter of chaos. Sirens wail as a lost infant separated from its mother. Against its awesome black, capricious canvas that is space, the vessel plummets sharply, dubiously towards its uncertain world. A swarm of bodies now programmed with the mindset to survive at all costs compact themselves uncomfortably into the escape corridor.
A man is yelling, “Women and children! Women and children, come to the front!” The sound of pandemonium echoes through the aching aluminum corridors. Every ounce of personal space is drowned in panic and pushing and yelling and fighting for a one way ticket to survival. As though a pool of ants, the door to an escape pod opens and a swarm of people overflow into their new fragile aluminum home, beginning their uncertain descent through the empty, black abyss to Habitat 9.