In the grand scheme of things, one little ship, and one little species, only served to make the cosmos its backdrop, a tiny dot in a sea of stars. How many more worlds, how many more peoples, existed? This didn't cross anyone's mind onboard this particular frigate.
With the satellites in place, and everyone informed about the situation and the means by which it would be remedied, a gentle calm returned to the passengers, and Clive Lockwood had a chance to sit and chat with Jim Brewer perhaps for the first time. He was interested in what Jim might have to say about how exactly the satellites were supposed to work, if Jim was going to be able to interpret whatever signal they might get back. Whatever had happened to the ship's systems to separate it from the rest of the fleet had apparently affected whatever ordinary communications systems had existed or been planned. Clive was a little unsettled, because aside from that one idea, he felt maybe more powerless than even that man who'd sparked the riot, Gabriel...Gabriel something or other. He didn't feel like talking about him, much less with him. Jim was far more safe.
But Jim didn't have many more answers than Clive did. He in fact suggested that they take a poll of the general mechanical abilities of the passengers. Clive was afraid that it would turn out to be Gabriel who would provide the next steps in this chain of efforts. Periodically, the pilot, Ray Patch, announced updates as far as he himself had, and there was always a round of murmuring, and Clive could hear Gabriel whatshisname among the voices, always one of the loudest, mostly with snarky remarks.
It was bad enough to be in a precarious situation. He missed the regularity, the predictability, of the life he had come to know. But that really was all over now, wasn't it?