Benson was sitting on his bed, completely unsecured, with his admin desk resting against his legs and his fingers dancing across the screen. The diagnostics check that was infinitely running during power-up and take-off had a slight bug in it, and he had to surf the code and fix the problem. 

Garry was occupying himself- itself, actually, but Benson charitably assigned it a gender for the sake of allusion- by trying to hack into his admin desk with its limited capacity. Each time the small somewhat aware artificial intelligence came close to breaking through the admin desk's firewalls, a small light blinked on the desk- and Benson quickly sent a small virus to Benson, giving the advanced firewalls time to repair themselves and shore themselves back up, while Garry suddenly acted like a dog for a minute as the AI counterhacked the virus he sent.

It was the only thing that brought a small smile to Benson's face, not since he'd first joined the crew months ago. 

Then the ship abruptly started rising, and he shifted his attention back to the admin desk, wondering why April didn't do her usual address-the-crew. And, of course, his diagnostics had shut down several non-critical systems, such as the intercom. 

Then he pitched off the bed and smacked into the floor, as the ship suddenly jerked about, destabilizing Benson's careful and precarious position on the edge of his bed- right in the middle of the room, too, since he didn't like being too close to walls. 

He sat up, rubbed his head, and then decided that he needed to do something. His mother always told him to go out and do something, after all. As if he ever actually listened to her. Several moments of careful contemplation later, Benny decided it wouldn't hurt, sent a counter-virus to eliminate his surprisingly resilient dog program that was affecting Garry, gave the short [i]follow me[/i] whistle- before exiting his room, Garry scurrying placidly behind him. 

He passed anyone in the corridor with not a word, just a glance at their eyes, a glance at their attire, before he continued on- the equal of another's enthusiastic "Hello!" He passed by in his usual quiet, stoic self, making his way to the bridge. Once he walked through the door, he stepped carefully, casually over all April's junk, hardly glancing at it- he had long since memorized the placement of it all, and April had long since stopped really doing anything with the junk blocking the doorway, and made for the chair on the opposite side of the cockpit, sitting down, plugging his admin desk into the console, and then just staring out into the void, as April tried her best [s]to tear apart the ship[/s] [s]fly in a straight line[/s] to find and use the best escape trajectory possible. 

He sat in his chair [subtly buckling himself in] and brought his feet up to rest on the edge of the seat, admin desk again on his knees and legs. But he didn't work on the ship's systems- his eyes seemed to reflect that he was watching much more than just the empty black, that he was seeing things that no one else could. Of course, an active imagination brought that- he was seeing nothing more than memories and different, alternate ideas on how things could have gone, from his death to a flourishing life planetside, rather than in the sky. 

Then he turned his eyes on the young April, and asked, "What do you see, out there?"