[ Peter isn't a knifey kinda guy, which is funny, considering he had two masters to teach him, back home -- one of whom was here, thank god. He's scrappy, and he likes a fight about as much as the next guy, but knives and him? Not exactly on the best of terms.

He'd taken one, though, just in case; it sat tucked in his belt, currently untouched, because when it became clear they were dealing with something out of a George Romero film? Peter had hefted a fallen branch and gone to town. He'd much rather maintain his distance than get up close and personal trying to stab these zombies in the face. He thinks after the first few swings, maybe if he had stayed on Earth, he could've gone into baseball? Or maybe golf? The thought depended on the state of uprightness the infected were currently engaged in.

Which is to say, he's managing, as far as the shambling zombies were concerned, but fuck, what he wouldn't give for a gun, right about now.

Approaching the gates and dispatching the bodies found there -- it kind of reminds Peter of a really messed up game of Whack-A-Mole. These used to be people, he thinks, but he recognizes death when he sees it. Granted, the fact that the dead apparently are unaware of the state of things and seem determined to keep moving -- it makes him tamp down on any pity he might feel for these poor bastards, because he values his own life a lot more. ]

--Hey. Movement behind you.

[ This certainly wasn't the first time Peter's been compelled to help some random stranger with a shotgun and certainly wouldn't be the last, which was a concerning sentiment, to be certain. But then again, Peter didn't plan to do more than a cursory search for the power cell for the transceiver in question. Whoever the guy intended to contact had to be better than the guy, himself, and that's a small motivator to find the power source -- but mostly? Peter's on the lookout for anything that might be useful to him. Foodstuffs and water, sure, though he kind of gets the impression not much will be left. For the most part, he keeps an eye out for tools and gadgets, working or otherwise. He can at least cannibalize them for parts, he thinks. (Peter's always been a tinkerer, at heart.)

It's why he ends up with a handful of lighters and candles, all of which he stuffs into one of his bags their kidnappers had oh, so helpfully provided on the ship.

It's also why he's pried open the back of a microwave, picking through its guts.

(oh my god quill they leave you alone for five minutes--) ]