A Grim Vista

The exit from the causeway deposited Enzo at the foot of one of four gantry elevators leading from the banks of the equatorial river to the CIC. Of course, there were no cars available, and the normally rather informative flatscreens that provided news, lift schedules, and a call button were all showing the dreaded 'OUT OF OPERATION' warnings. Looking upwards, Enzo could see the pressure-tight membrane that that the districts into separate environments sagging from the loss of atmosphere. Turning around, he made for the stairs that led from the riverbanks to the upper terraces of the district - and froze in shock at what he saw.
The Second District - or, as much was visible from it's lowest extent - was a ghastly mess. The streets had cleared, as there must've been panic when impact occured, but what Enzo surmized were hundreds of civilians lay sprawled in the path and along the grassy curbs. Whether from the sudden spike of radiation, shrapnel from the collision and subsequent explosion, or drop in pressure when the atmosphere began leaking, Enzo realized that there was likely no saving these poor souls. Indeed, he knew, the chances for survival were slim for anyone cought outside and unprotected far from a General Purpose Module or other sealed space. The shift in color from yellow to orange in his own helmet's displayed oxygen reserve level suggested that he might suffer the same fate if he didn't take decisive action soon.
"Knight-Airman," a voice said over Enzo's suit radio, startling him with it's abruptness. "You should make your way to one of the residences, it matters not which. Time is of the essence for you. I will minister to these ones as best I can, but ."
Enzo spun around to see where it could be coming from, then spied a figure stepping backward from the shadows beneath one of the residence GPMs one terrace up from the river. Without warning, the figure eversed to face him. Enzo was sickened by the sight of the man's elbows, knees, and even fingers bent backwards so that the concavity of the man's body now faced him. The man's head, encased in a spherical helmet of transparent compositle in what would otherwise be a comically outdated style, spun all the way around to reveal the facial features of Forgemaster Deniden Meki, the ship's chaplain.
Enzo felt himself go pale and buckled, willing himself not to vomit at the outre spectacle. "Did I just hallucinate that?" he responded. He had heard of DCStim causing hallucinations in high doses or with abuse, but was it possible that he was hyper-sensitive to it for some reason. Then a more pertinent question came to him. "Wait, how are we communicating, Forgemaster?"
"Line-of-sight," Deniden replied, tapping a finger on his helmet. "And no, you didn't. I'm extensively modified, you see," Deniden said, referring to his cybernetic augmentations. "Physiologically, I'm closer to an HLAI platform. Which, coincidentally, is why I'm more concerned about you getting to where the fresh oh-two is than I am for myself. Quickly now!" He beckoned Enzo forward with a thumb which, even at distance, Enzo noted was uncovered by a suit glove even in the thinning air. Not wishing to argue further, Enzo made his way up the path to where Deniden was as quickly as his feet could take him.