She must have pissed off the gods; any one of them, she wasn’t particular; it wasn’t as if she believed in any one of them so why be choosy? Being biffed by a pissed off deity was far more realistic in Aibhlinn’s eyes than the notion of a comet crash-landing on earth. What were the odds; they already crashed down into the arctic, now she was hunched over in the snow, struggling to get her diaphragm to release so that oxygen could flood back into her lungs, all because of some freak-shockwave decided introduce itself to their already tire state.<br/><br/>She should have stayed in Alaska. She would have been happier if she had found some horrendous native who didn’t speak English, was missing all of his teeth, and married him on the spot. Aibhlinn’s head was pounding so hard she almost retched, but the only sound she could make out was the annoying cries from the other side of pod 7. Even those sounds were faint, as if her ears were packed full of snow and the cold made them ring ever so slightly. Concussion, now upgraded to possible ruptured eardrums. The woman swore more fiercely than before, somehow managing to reach up with her heavy limb and grab the handle to the pod. Both to help her find her footing again, as well as to jerk the damn thing open, releasing the prisoner inside. She hoped she was shouting, but she couldn’t be sure, “It’s alrigh’, I’m gettin’ you out!” She hoped whoever it was, was an upgrade compared to her company thus far. Preferably someone who had a gun. Or a rock. She’d feel better with a weapon. “Christ, the next person who screams near me will get punched in the throat.”