"Never heard of 'em," Shepard says amiably, with a nod that would be a handshake if she weren't seated on the floor and Aloy standing, "But if we're giving out titles, I'm technically Commander Shepard-- Not that it matters, out here."

Aloy isn't just young, she's young. She's practically a fetus. Still, she was older than some of the brats on this damn station, and unlike the rest of the surprisingly robust population of angry young gingers, hasn't yet picked a fight with Shepard.

"I'm not an astrophysicist, but it's always been my understanding that nothing is the default, and the nice conditions you'll find on earth are rare," She gestured as she spoke, then bent back to the repair of the fracture in her helmet's seal, "That's why they call 'em garden worlds. They're comparatively tame."