There's a dragon.

Probably just some kind of alien, but it sure looks like a dragon to York, which is almost enough to make him wonder if he's dreaming all of this. Almost -- the cold sure is real enough, his fingertips turning blue as his thin undersuit does nothing to keep him warm.

And then the dragon's heading for him, and prodding him with a claw. Did it just talk? It did. About food. "Hey! Watch it with those!"