In many ways, it was exactly like the scene had been on Earth, in its final days. Jim figured that initially the rest of the passengers simply hadn't understood the pilot's announcement, and even after Jim had gotten up, helped, and come back, it was several hours later. Maybe it was because the pilot had failed to provide a follow-up, and someone put two and two together, and wound up with eight. It was almost complete hysteria. The flight attendant looked calm by comparison.
There were things being thrown everywhere, things that were meant to be eaten, things that were meant to remain stationary. It was not at all the kind of behavior Jim might have expected from people who only had these precious things to depend on, but then, panic is pretty much the opposite of reason. Punches were being thrown. He tried to locate Clive Lockwood, but couldn't. Perhaps he had already fallen victim to this mob?
He was at a loss as to how he should react. It was behavior that was contrary to his own nature, and so while he understood how it might have begun, he had a harder time identifying with it. He became aware that Kim Jones, or so the name badge the flight attendant wore announced, finally decided to step in, which gave him the opportunity, the distraction, to look for Clive. He had every intention of returning to the cockpit, for a more intimate consultation with the pilot. What was his name again? Before he was able to do any of that, however, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked around and saw a man who must have been a good six inches taller than him.
"Gabriel Martinez," the man said. "Pleased to meet you. Now how about you explain our little rodeo?"