Payne woke up, and he found himself in a confined space with five others. His mind flailed to reconcile how he had gotten from point A, his last memory of being in the pantry tidying up the ship's rations, to point B, waking up in what looked to be the ship's escape pod. He was in his EVA, but the extension to his matter analysis gauntlet, located on his left hand, seemed functional. That was good, at least. Just as good, was the fact that his Payne-Maker, sheathed and hooked onto his suit's waist, was still where it should be.

Payne' stomach growled, and that was not so good. He didn't know when his last meal had been, but he began to think of a new recipe for roasted apharids when he realized that the Qari who had woken him up (assuming her height wasn't an illusion,) as well as a human (most all medium-height spacefarers are) were discussing the course of action to be taken. 

Now, Payne was just a cook, and a good bartender, but he could recognize that these were not ordinary circumstances. Extraordinary circumstances called for extraordinary responses. So Payne removed his safety restraints, stood up, and joined the pilot at the console.

[color=green]"What's cookin'?"[/color]