Jaqs Nadir and Mario Sanchez had manned NAV and COM respectively. Except when in combat situations at which time, Jaqs was sent down to the engine room to do extra duty there and leave the fight piloting to others.

She hadn’t made it down to the engine room when they’d been hit. Her mind went over sounds and with the breaking whine, she’d muttered, "Main Engine, fuck.." and braced herself against the slender halls in the ship, attempting to make her way to Engine.

She didn’t bother thinking about how far she’d gotten, if it had been five feet or three before the next three blasts hit the ship and made everything tip hind end over tea kettle. Her training kicking in, she had grasped rails and moved her way along the warming hall to a supply closet. There, she’d bunked up and tucked herself into a ball in the smallest space, preparing for impact.

They were trained to recall things like that, but she couldn’t recall a single moment between the closing of that closet door and when silence had settled. Then, Sanchez had found her and dragged her out, shouting something about getting bodies out of the wreckage and setting up camp.

Who’d died and made him captain? She hadn’t had the wherewithall to complain, though. Someone had given him point and she was well versed in following orders.

It wasn’t until she was carrying communique gear and following behind Hunter that she thought again about it. Sanchez remained behind to work on the camp and continue sorting out the dying from the dead. Not a job she wanted.

Her twisted metal rim glasses perched on her head, her outer shirt open and rain covered her shoulders in a wet blanket of green already pouring down her chest, she stumped up a bit and settled in next to Hunter, shoving her short hair out of her eyes. "Hey lieutenant," she said, half teasing, "you in charge now?" She wasn’t going to go overboard, but hell, the situation was a little uncertain and she was always happier when she knew who it was she had to follow.

Back at camp, Sanchez stared across at Kane from where he was setting out the few supplies from the medical kit that had been stored up near the bridge. He'd just found it in another foray to the perimeter they'd set up. Most of the supplies were no longer vacuum locked and there had been an electrical fire next to the kit and half of the stuff had melted. But at this point, anything he could get Vi would be better than nothing. "How many you need for that, Sarge? Might want to leave some guys here to help medical. But not me. I got.. " he held up the hand Vi had wrapped up for him. "I'm only good enough for the guys who don't need no help any more." And that was a depressing number.

__________________

‘What will my death be like?’ he thought- and knew at once
with abrupt certainty, that it would be just like his life:
... the same balance of bearables.
~Amis