That had to have been the most awkward handshake in the history of two homeworlds. She was this close to giving up when Nellara finally made up her mind. “Friends. Not foes.” Vigdis confirmed with a nod and a shake of her head accompanying the respective positive and negative statements, delighted and relieved that it had worked. The fact that shaking one’s head for ‘no’ was the same, or at least she was reasonably certain, made things a bit easier even further. Having greasy substances on her hands was fortunately nothing strange to the engineer, so she resisted the impulse to wipe her hand off easily. Let’s not offend the ‘Not Foes. Friends?’ by giving the impression one found them filthy.

But all good things must come to an end, as was evidently true even in this system. “Shaking hands has been working great so far, Captain, none of us have been eaten yet.” Vigdis shrugged when the doom clock started ticking again, “I would guess they’re not their friends, since we don’t yet have [i]any[/i] friends here.” Her latest exchange with Nellara still didn’t mean anything. Yes, they both expressed the desire to avoid fighting, but until they learned to communicate, no one could say they were friends. In order to communicate, they would either need one of their… what, interpreters? Mind readers? Either that, or Wodan. In order for Wodan to decipher a full language in a reasonable time frame, he’d need to be running at full capacity. In order to get Wodan to 100%, at least one reactor would have to be restarted. In order to restart at least one reactor, they’d need more power. And in order to get more power, they’d need to communicate with the locals. “If you want to know which faction to trust, in my humble opinion the people who showed up in force and formed a phalanx are the wrong choice.”

“Not friends? Not foes? Neutral.” She pointed outside, trying to get some sort of answer out of any of the locals that hadn’t yet run outside. “They are neutral?” What she saw when she looked out didn’t fill her with much hope for a peaceful resolution. She’d seen enough fantasy movies to know where this was going. A knight riding out in front of his ranks to address the men before a charge.

“Hey, someone who’s going into the armory, bring me a helmet and plate carrier, I wear a medium. Eva,” So that was the power armor operator’s name, she’d been meaning to ask for three days but circumstances said ‘no’, “,could you give me a hand with this?” Vigdis called out as she undid the straps around some of the crates that hadn’t been torn free by the crash. Bracing her shoulder against one and pushing with her healthy foot, she moved the box across the shuttle bay into its port side fore corner, trying to set up a barrier to further narrow down the entry point.