"Fffffffff--" Chase recoiled and pushed himself out from under the mule, now in total darkness; whatever had died had taken the overheads with it. He flipped on the LED on his goggles and fumbled toward the control room on the second floor, clutching his poor, definitely bruised forehead. Inside, Connor and a handful of the guys were crowded around a wall full of open panels, talking over each other and sending flashlight beams strobing across the room as they gestured.
"The primary ventilation buffer backfired--"
"Well, we gotta get people out of the rooms!"
"Is there an actual fire somewhere, or is it just overheated?!"
"Who's getting the captains?"
"I'm on it," he said, and doubled back out and up the stairs to the main level at a run. Ten minutes later, he and the captains (both wearing legit shirt-and-pants PAJAMAS, to Chase's fascination and vicarious shame) were knocking on doors and encouraging those who were decent to run ahead and get the passengers out in the distant wing. People were getting hauled straight out of bed and pulled from their rooms like there was a fire under their collective asses, because, Chase figured, Connor worried there might be somewhere in the ducts.
"Get everyone out of the rooms, ok? We don't know for sure what's causing the backup but we know it's fucking up the vents-- get everyone out of this side then get the passengers, don't miss any rooms! We're all meeting down in the loading bay so get down there asap!"
( It's 3 am and your character has been hauled from whatever they were doing-- probably sleeping-- because there's serious issues with the Argo's ventilation system and god knows what else. They'll have to run out of their room without a chance to grab much of anything and either wake up crew/passengers en route or just head straight down to the loading bay. Have fuuuuun! )