Athena stood, which was a good sign in itself. She patted herself, feeling many bruises, but nothing seemed broken. In the time it took to check herself over, she had already regained her first wind, and was feeling better.<br/><br/>She moved up the aisle, coming to the first staff member in her path. His name was Peter Smith, and he had remained in his chair although he was unconscious. Athena felt a weak pulse on his neck, but blood stained the corner of his mouth, hinting at internal injury. He gasped, and Rachel tried to keep him still. As she watched he took another breath, opened his eyes, and died.<br/><br/>As Rachel asked her question, Janet had been unbuckling herself and now stood in the cabin, surveying the damage. "Hmm, I don't think so," she said, giving her sides a dramatic squeeze. "Our guts are a little stirred at the moment. If I hand the wheel back now, she'd probably gack up a lung and die."<br/><br/>To illustrate her point, Janet cleared her throat and hawked out a bloody wad onto the cabin floor. She wiped her mouth with her coat sleeve, leaving a bloody smear on the white cloth. "Besides, they all look pretty dead to me," she said, spreading her arms in a "too bad, so sad" kind of gesture. "Who's going to put the mint on my pillow now?"