[Hux]
Most of the meat was packed away in the chilled section of the compressor housing, after being tediously washed section by section in the refresher sink. That was a job for stormtroopers and Hux was glad they were there to be delegated to.
The task of cooking what was left initially went to H-482 and the sergeant of FN squad. It was later reassigned to Rey, Kaydel, and Chewbacca after H-482 was ordered to shower for having smeared himself with bug guts and dirt as some kind of survival tactic. (Yes, Hux knew it was an attempt at camouflage, but it was still disgusting. He was repulsed that one of his stormtroopers even considered such a thing, much less did it – and apparently at the first opportunity. It was a bizarre deviation worth being noted in the trooper's record.)
Chewbacca was a questionable cook. He ate plenty raw and before they'd even completed the scans to make sure the stuff was edible. Hux suspected the one meal bar he'd been allotted (and had not, as far as Hux knew, complained about) had been insufficient for his caloric needs. It was another reason not to have aliens in your core crew, but Hux had what he had. He had to admit that for a hungry Wookiee, Chewbacca had been astonishingly polite and hard-working. He supposed that was why they had been preferred as slaves in the Empire.
Tico and Finn had disappeared into the rear compartment much earlier, since that was where the medpack was. Three of the four surviving stormtroopers who'd initially been sent out were out of their armor and taking up floor space, thoroughly exhausted. The last was the corporal, who had returned outside after his shower, to mill around in an uneasy manner telling his life story to anyone who wasn't actively ignoring him. That pinged Hux's senses as 'wrong', but he couldn't put his finger on why. From what he could see, CL-0745 had taken notice of it, so he left personnel management to her. It was, after all, the job of a first sergeant.
His job was the bigger strategic picture and overall leadership. The most important part of that was regaining mobility and intelligence – mobility in the form of flight potential, intelligence in the form of communications and sensors. Hux took a quick turn around the wing section with a light, checking its condition. He really couldn't say anything about it except that it was here. Everyone with any talent for doing anything with it was out of commission or busy. There was another spate of stun-blasters on the bugs. Given the delicacy of the reattachment operation, attempting it now would be a poor decision. The next day would be better, when they were rested and the native fauna less threatening.
He hadn't seen much of Poe, though. And he was pretty much out of things to do unless he wanted to eat boiled crab, which likely sounded wonderful to someone, but not to him. He searched the place again, finding the pilot in the main compartment, doing the same as the stormtroopers who had returned and getting some rest. Poe had propped himself in the corner on the sleeping mat, his legs extended and with his head resting against the join of the walls. He looked up at Hux with barely-open eyes.
Hux regarded him. From what he'd gathered, Poe had spent the entire march back pushing the wing, doing the same physical exertion as the Wookiee and the burly Abednedo. He'd managed to escape injury (all of them had, except Tico and Finn … and of course the dead trooper), but he was more wrung out than most. Poe patted the sleeping mat next to him in invitation.
Hux made one dry laugh and sat beside him, knees drawn up. He rested his head against the wall. He wasn't feeling too hot himself. He'd barely slept the night before and he'd stayed active all day. Even if his exertion and danger hadn't been close to that of the wing-retrieval team, he'd stayed awake and informed as the night wore on, leaving the comm channel open as he studied the shuttle schematics and occasionally watched the feed from the helmets. After the second incident, he'd woke the rest and sent out the FN squad.
He was sleepy. He wasn't sure he wanted to sleep even now – not if he was going to have the same frustrating, horrific series of dreams as the night before. He knew he needed to sleep, though. The warm smell of cooking meat and burning thruster fuel wafted through the compartment. He'd given all his orders. He didn't need to do anything else. Poe wasn't offering conversation. His shoulder was resting against Hux's. Hux wasn't even sure if Poe was still awake. Hux shut his eyes. Just for a moment.