Shirik seemed to understand Itxaro’s final song and dance, but she could never be too sure. As if to reinforce this, Shirik seemingly refused her offer for a helping hand, standing on his own, and then shook it as if he were meeting a business partner. Itxaro was shocked at how cool the charred hand was against her flesh, given his fiery appearance. She mused that Shirik, and others like him, must have an elaborate nervous system to the thermoregulate in this fashion; that, or something entirely different. [i]Probably would have been smart to give him my prosthetic instead.[/i]

What followed was a frenzied whirlwind of movement and communication. Itxaro had dreams that felt like this moment. Frantically trying to pack, to prepare for something, but everything is moving too fast, and she can’t find what she needs or keep her thoughts in order. All the natives were moving outside, and the commander gave the call to arms. Vigdis called out for a plate carrier and a helmet, giving Itxaro some purpose. ”I’ve got you,” she shouted out, before heading back into the ship through the airlock. 

Itxaro’s heart was pounding in her throat as the airlock cycled. She grabbed the carbine left there and hustled towards the armory, fumbling with the straps of her own plate carrier before tossing one for Vigdis over her shoulder. The armory was crammed with crew all arming themselves; Itxaro couldn’t believe how many aboard the Jo were ex-military, as if Tamerlane had anticipated something like the. She looked down at her Kevlar vest and winced. It would stop an arrow, sword, or lance, but only if it hit her chest. Right now, Nellara’s suit of chitin armor seems much more appealing. Itxaro had some experience in full plate herself, and certainly felt much safer in it than this fabric and ceramic vest. She managed to snag a bandolier of shotgun shells and a helmet for Vidgis, along with another plate carrier, before her arms were full and she headed out. 

Itxaro hurried up the ship’s stairs, crammed with civilians worried at the sight of her lugging around so much ordinance. She tried to give them a reassuring smile, but only managed something more akin to a rictus grin. Itxaro wheeled around the corner and into the medbay; the sterile room had emptied out some, but Itxaro had a sickening feeling that it wouldn’t stay like that for long. She spotted the doctor and wordlessly tossed him a vest. “Commander’s orders, you’re needed downstairs. Know how to use this?” She spoke quickly, gesturing to the carbine cradled in her arm. Itxaro hoped he’d been keeping tabs on the first contact downstairs, or she’d have a lot of work to do filling him in. [i]Mierda, I need a smoke.[/i]