After sleeping for what seems to be an indefinite period of time, you have awakened. Your surroundings seem to be a sparse bedroom-- sterile and bare and uncluttered. Aside from a slight mechanical thrum, you can hear nothing. Your last memories seem hazy and hard to recollect.
You do so. Aside from a slight shift in the stale air, nothing seems to change in response to your motion.
Your balance seems slightly off, although your legs do not seem to be tired despite not having used them for however long you were asleep.
The room itself has little in terms of furniture-- a bed with a single sheet, a wardrobe packed with drab clothing, a single door. It does little other than serve as somewhere to sleep.
You open the door to outside and step out onto a metal catwalk. The catwalk itself looks down a vast, empty room and extends in both directions. The thrum seems to be coming from the left, but you hear other noises quickly enough-- the circulation systems operating, perhaps even distant footsteps further away.
The catwalk budges slightly, but not much.
You walk to the right, keeping one hand on the guard-rail to remain steady. The catwalk goes on, but eventually branches off-- either to a set of stairs, or to another catwalk crossing the room.
You walk down the stairs without incident.
You seem to be mostly clothed-- you lack proper shoes, admittedly. Your skin seems to be somewhat off, but you can't quite determine why. You're uncertain what your face looks like, at least in its present condition-- you lack a mirror or reflective surface.
The base of the stairs seems to open up to a small waiting room of some sort. A few couches line the walls, along with a holographic newspaper. You hear footsteps further away.
The newspaper has a sprawl of events, all pertaining to an Interstellar Vessel Kepler-- everything from local gossip regarding the crew of the ship to maintenance schedules to shifts for crew to emerge from cryogenic sleep.
 The footsteps grow louder.
You barricade the door, then proceed to sit on your barricades and flip through the newspaper. No thoughts regarding time travel seem to cross your mind, regrettably.
The footsteps grow louder, then stop. Someone attempts to work the door. Your barricades seem to deter them. There is a pounding on the door, and a male voice on the other side.
 "Whoever the hell's in there, this isn't funny!"
 "It's not polite to curse." You respond. Your voice is mechanical and synthesized.
 The pounding stops, and is immediately followed by what seems to be the sound of running. Whoever was on the other side clearly was not expecting that. There is an un-barricaded door to the left.
 You hastily work to undo the barricades, then proceed through the door. You can see a security guard-- likely the one attempting entrance to the waiting room-- running away. He looks back as the door opens, catching a glimpse of you.
 "S-saboteur!" He yells, likely to no one in particular, before barreling away. In addition to the hallway he is running down, there are two others-- one leading to a set of gender-specific bathrooms, the other labeled as being towards Engineering and Storage rooms.
You go inside the lady's room. In addition to various stalls, there is a row of faucets and mirrors, and likely a convenient exit were you to search for one.
 Your fist flies into the mirror. Despite expecting to feel pain, you don't. An examination of your hand reveals no blood-- your skin seems to be cut, revealing plastic-like synthetic skin and mechanical tissue and parts underneath. The door requires some form of key to be locked, and the couch likely would not fit through the door without prior disassembly.
The mirror seems to function enough for you to examine yourself. Were it not for the robotic eyes, you would say you look like a female human.
There are no windows on this spaceshit! Windows are a structural weakness.
 There is a single entrance to the ventilation system, which you hastily enter. No sooner than you do so than you hear a loud klaxon-- clearly the guard got to someone important. While cramped and likely to be loud, it supports your weight, and after some crawling opens up to a slightly larger space. There is a large fan, along with a decontamination filter and carbon removal equipment.
 In addition to whatever's past the fan, there are two other vent exits-- excluding the one leading to the ladies' bathroom.
As you drop through the fan, your vision seems to open up with a variety of screens-- structural integrity, coolant levels, battery power, and so on. The fan seems to be incapable of handling your frame and gives way to you.
As you land, you examine yourself. The outer skin layer is thoroughly lacerated, along with parts of your clothing. The monitors you have seem to reveal that no major damage has been taken, but you will have a hard time covering up your now readily-apparent inhuman nature.
You see two exits. Further vision checks reveal information regarding the consistency of the metal, as well as a small map in the corner of your vision mapping out this location.
Were you human, you might feel dizzy.
The map has your current location plotted, as well as what you have already visited. According to it, you fell quite a bit of distance, and would likely need to find stairs or a ladder to return to the level you were previously on.
You find a surprising quantity of air vent, seeing as you have yet to actually leave the ventilation system.
You proceed forwards, exiting out onto a large area. Down below, you see several workers tending to machinery-- in this case, what appear to be fuel lines, as well as likely other pipes containing bulk liquid supplies.
You are still undetected, but the workers are more cautious than normal, and at least one has a side-arm.
 You open a weapon interface, but nothing seems to be accessible. It seems your programming is convinced that you aren't in enough danger to warrant weaponry access.
 Drawer rummaging reveals assorted snacks, a pistol with some ammunition, and a written down password for a worker's computer.
The password seems to be for the computer behind you. You stuff the snacks into a pocket, and have one hand occupied by the pistol.
Logging onto the computer reveals a host of emails, some more personal than others. There's a localized Internet equivalent-- it seems to just be the members of the ship, not the outside world. The worker apparently has some heated arguments open on several tabs, at least one of which largely consisting of him boasting about the dangers of vacuum work-- his presumed profession, you assume.
 You open up a map. You feel lost for a few seconds, as your mind absorbs the information entirely. Additionally, you learn that the vessel has been operating for a year, and that its launch was plagued with problems-- both in its construction, which faced numerous setbacks, and protests prior to its launch and at least three separate attempts at sabotage. It is intended as the first FTL...
 ...vessel, and is set to land on the already pre-existing facilities set up on an exoplanet-- built and maintained by unmanned slower-than-light probes and automated factories.
The vessel's first sabotage attempt was made during construction, when workers-- infuriated by incremental wage cuts-- apparently rioted and nearly destroyed the FTL systems. The second was when a rival group based in the Jovian system, the Four Moons Consortium, apparently sent spies into the vessel in an attempt to determine the workings of the drive systems. The third was just prior to...
...its launch, when multiple military vessels closed on the ISV Kepler in an apparent attempt to destroy it.
If the guard is correct, you could consider yourself the fourth attempt.