Yeah, literally trying to raise someone on comms when you're holding the comm that they use when they do is not the brightest measure, but Alex is far from thinking straight. As soon as he sees Amos, the relief hits him like high gee juice. It's easy to see that the other man is fine, the muscles of his arms clearly fully intact, nothing leaner about his figure. He reaches out too, gripping Amos's t-shirt at his waist, the cloth just balling into his fist, no actual grip on Amos himself.

Prax at least had gotten him to change, so his suit didn't look crusty with dried sweat, or stink of it - though he still might. It wasn't his first concern.

"We gotta check the others," he said, the words coming out in a rush. "We gotta make sure there ain't nothin' -- that there ain't nothing wrong with 'em, that they're okay and that they aren't hearin' things. We can't leave them alone, Amos-- Prax is fine, but we really can't leave any of 'em alone--"