Within the four minutes given by the Captain, there was a line of boxes across the hole in the wall, leaving a gap about 80 centimeters wide for people to enter and exit the hangar. Good luck fitting in there, Rudolph. The ancient Romans wouldn't have looked at their improvised fortification twice, but given the time and resources available, she was proud of it. It was around that time that Ixtaro brought the requested vest and helmet, along with some bonus ammo. Nice. Let’s hope that carrying that was just wasted effort. Looking up at Ixtaro as the woman spoke, Vigdis noted something in her eyes and voice that was commonly seen among people who were thrown into a situation they had little control over and weren’t yet used to it. She’d seen it at the academy when EVA instructors in the vac chamber released the air from their suits in an unguarded moment, in rookie technicians the first few times they had to board an unstable wreck… She probably looked like that when the bullets started flying in Stavanger three days ago. She turned to the time-tested method of dissipating some of these worries: A bad joke. “Had a feeling these vermin might be too big for him. He’d still try, given a chance, believe that.” Vigdis said in reference to Fritjof as she put on the provided equipment, noting the Captain leaving the safety of the hangar simply as another weird thing that was happening that made no sense to her.

“Fuck no. If she wants to get stabbed or trampled, that’s her choice, I’m staying here.” Vigdis answered the Cuban’s question and banged on the crate she was crouched behind with her fist, the sign on the side identifying its content as electrolytic iron powder. At that moment, Vigdis had to laugh. Her brain was still thinking in terms of human weaponry, where a crate filled with iron powder would’ve been adequate cover. Against arrows and crossbow bolts, it was as if they’d gotten the shield running again. As for magic, a decade of tabletop gaming had taught her there was no way to truly prepare for magic and they’d have to roll with the punches, assuming they survived the first one.

“What do you think they’re saying?” She shared her curiosity as she reorganized the magazines in her pouches to keep the armor piercing darts on hand, figuring they’ll be more useful at range and against armor than flechettes. If it came to the worst, assuming everyone could pull the trigger, she guessed the 23 ponies would be worm food before they got halfway, barring any magical protection. Or their mage would send a 20-foot radius Fireball into the shuttle bay and call it a day. Not great odds, but better a medieval cavalry platoon than a contemporary cavalry platoon. Then she got an idea. After all, they had their own brand of magic. “Chief, Vigdis.” She called Zhao, “How quickly can you reduce O2 content inside down to 19,5% if it turns ugly out here and the locals force their way inside? If they’re used to breathing 29%, such a drop would hit them like a ton of bricks, assuming airtightness to allow this.” She didn’t tell the Captain or the XO yet, confident that if it was possible, Zhao would notify them of that option herself and if it wasn’t, then there was no need to bother them with it.