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Colin pushed the cart slowly, navigating across the mess hall between the bulbous epoxy shells. The pressure suit made his actions clumsy, and he had twice already rammed into a carapace. They were tough, and not likely to puncture by such an impact, but he took no chances. If one were to rupture... He shuddered to think of it.
His helmet light glinted off something blue and shiny, He recognized it instinctively as a large pile of foil wrappers emblazoned with a familiar logo - Omega Bars. Apparently Hannah shared his appreciation for this quick and ready nutrition source. That was great news in several ways: not only were they truly a very convenient food source which he could readily transport back to med bay, but it also gave him and Hannah something in common, which could be another small step in gaining her trust.
He finally reached the mess hall store-room. It contained a wide variety of foodstuffs, but a lot of it was suitable only for large scale food preparation. Institutional sized packages of frozen meat and vegetables, sacks of flour, sugar, rice, and other staples, five liter canisters of various sauces. One section held cases of dispenser goods - candy bars, drinks, and - yes, here we go! - Omega Bars. He loaded several cases onto the cart. It took a few more minutes of searching to track down the peanut butter, and some biscuits suitable for spreading it onto. The cart was too small to hold much else. He might have to come back for more supplies later, but there was room for one more box. Scanning the shelves for what to choose, he had a random thought. He emptied a large box of canned goods, placing the cans directly back on the rack, then, placed the empty box onto his cart and headed back out of the mess hall, being even more careful guiding the now full cart.
Getting the loaded cart through the hole in the wall proved impossible. It had been difficult enough to get it through even unloaded. The blast hole in the wall extended nearly to the floor, but was jagged and rough, so he had been forced to unload it, drag it through, then load it back up again. Now he made his way down corridor E-1, opening up cabin hatches as he proceeded, and peering into each berth. He couldn’t remember exactly which cabin had belonged to which crew member, but a quick glance jogged his memory or at least provided enough visual clues for a precursory decision. The first three he did not bother entering. The fourth bore further investigation. The room was tidy, by any standard; some may have called it immaculate. The bunk was made tightly and beside the regulation issue pillow, was a second pillow with a floral pillowcase, and a small brown teddy bear. Atop the dresser were several books and a picture of a young woman standing between an older couple. He did not recognize her, though she did look vaguely familiar. Opening the dresser drawer, he found panties and sock in the top, then t-shirts, and sweatpants in the next, and finally, two pairs of regulation coveralls in the bottom drawer. He held up a pair of coveralls, shaking out the wrinkles and letting them hang full-length. He then walked back out of the room, coveralls in hand, and checked the number of the hatch. Using the ‘Jiffy Marker’ from his tool belt, he wrote that number on the tag of the coveralls, then placed them in the empty box. He repeated roughly the same process on four other berths, before proceeding down the corridor, back toward med bay.