Strangely enough, Vigdis expected her scheduled work in the next few days to be enjoyable in a way, although when she mentioned it to the table during the first meal after the crash she got a few looks as if she needed her head examined. Working outside, in the breeze, with birds - or so she assumed, who knew what taxonomical classification the things would get - singing throughout the day, great views as the sun - were they still supposed to call it ‘sun’ even if it wasn’t ‘the Sun’? - set… She’d take that over the enclosed docks at Stavanger. At least while the local summer was going. Or maybe it was spring, it was hard to tell.

As soon as the sun - fuck it, it was the local system’s sun, someone who cared enough could name it later - was up, Vigdis was outside, sealing the two smaller hull breaches to make the most of space available inside the ship. The one in the hangar was a different beast, with a decent chunk of the wall missing, likely due to a missile exploding nearby. The Jo wasn’t a warship, a direct hit at that angle would’ve probably stopped in front of the captain’s office and then blown off its entire chin, bridge and all. It was further complicated by the damn air, meaning she would first have to seal it from the outside, then fix the breach from the inside once the air wasn’t a fire hazard in an enclosed space and then go back out and replace the temporary seal with a proper hull patch. At least that was on the schedule before ventilation in the forward quarters died. And then the door to one of the aft quarters. And then lights in engineering in conjunction with heating. The power fluctuations and impact made a mess of the power grid, cables and wires half melted, contacts shaken loose and circuit boards damaged by heat and failing with additional use.

All in all, morning of day three and Vigdis finally had time to get back to the shuttle bay breach. She’d woken up about an hour ago, picked up her meager breakfast ration and went straight to the gear locker before stopping at the armory, as anyone going outside had to bring something to fend off potential wildlife. Hauling the welding rig behind her with one hand and adjusting the parts bag with the other, she hadn’t yet had the time to turn her personal communicator on, missing the Captain’s alert. She hadn’t even had the time to actually load her weapon, something she deeply regretted as soon as she stepped out of the airlock and saw [i]something[/i] approaching the breach, evidently looking to get in.

She left the welder where it was and stumbled backward, hands fumbling to reach the Jackal. Then she noticed it: As the creature came closer, light from within the bay revealed it was wearing clothes. That calmed her down somewhat, enough to keep the weapon at low ready and pointed at the ground. Still, she was holding the creature at bay with an unloaded weapon, even if it was unarmed - who the fuck was she kidding, the thing’s face [i]was[/i] a weapon! - and banking on the fact that it wouldn’t be able to tell. Rather than further manipulate the object the alien might infer to be a weapon, Vigdis tapped the side of her headset, turning it on. “Shuttle bay, shuttle bay!” She let out a panicked whisper, unsure of which channel she was on and who it went to.