Note: Okay, my original plan was to update monthly, but I realize now that that would take entirely too long. Starting now, this story will be updated biweekly. Enjoy the story everyone.

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Shepard and company each grabbed a random weapon from the bag: Clyde got an SMG, D'mones got a shotgun, Morris and James both wound up with assault rifles, and Shepard found himself with a cricket-killer of a pistol. "How am I supposed to fight geth with this?" he asked.

D'mones looked at Shepard's new peashooter. "Mine's bigger," she joked.

"Enough chatter," Matthias said, checking the sights on his tac-sniper. "Morris, James, go find Sergeant Miller. He'll give you your orders. Everyone else, you're with me."

"Sure thing, boss," Clyde said.

Still less than happy with his pistol, Shepard followed the others to the crew cabins. Sounds of gunfire and general panic filled the air, assaulting the Privates' ears. Under better circumstances, the Britannia was a pleasant ship to be stationed on. With the geth now scouring every sector of the ship, it felt as if Shepard and company had walked into Hell itself.

"Hold up," Matthias said, holding up the relevant hand sign. He glanced around, and Shepard thought the sergeant even went so far as to smell for the geth. "Shepard," he pointed to the door next to him, "check this cabin. Clyde, D'mones, move up and get these rooms."

"Aye-aye, sir," they all replied.

Shepard positioned himself next to the door, hearing now what Matthias must have. Separate from the crackling of fire was a shuffling noise from a contact within the room. The recruit opened the door, peering in before proceeding.

It was awfully dark. Even fire scattered here and there did little to light the room. A feeling of dread growing in Shepard's stomach only made the room seem even darker, to the point where he threatened to double back every time something moved even slightly. Ominous darkness, swelling fear, the threat of getting shot, and the only thing poor Private Shepard was armed with was a pistol. He swept his aim across the room, pointing at anything that remotely resembled Tali's definition of the geth.

He sighed. It felt like an eternity had gone by since he last saw his quarian sweetheart, who now was flying to some distant star. I will see her again, he assured himself. It's just a matter of being in the right place at the right time. Now focus! Geth could come from anywhere at any moment.

Almost as soon as he thought it, a mech with an assault rifle and what seemed to be a flashlight for a head stood from behind a pile of dirty laundry. "Shit!" he yelled, plugging away at the intruder. It took seven shots and fell, just in time for Shepard's pistol to overheat. The gun expelled steam from both sides before closing back up, ready to shoot. Handy… He holstered the handgun, wondering if he couldn't take the synthetic's rifle. To his dismay, the automatic gun had shorted itself out when the operator ceased function, so Shepard was left with his peashooter for the time being. He did one more sweep before exiting the room. "Clear!"

"Clear," D'mones confirmed, followed by Clyde.

"I don't think they came in force," Clyde proceeded. "There was only one guy in there."

"Same here," Shepard said.

D'mones agreed. "Ditto."

Clyde furrowed his eyebrows. "Anyone else have a feeling that something bad is about to happen?"

A metallic thumping could be heard on the other side of the bare wall at the end of the corridor. A dent the size of a beach ball appeared, followed by another, and another. "What now?" D'mones asked.

"Where's Sarge?"

Shepard shook his head. "I don't know, but we have to prepare for whatever's on the other side of that wall. Clyde, set up in the left-hand doorway. D'mones, stack up on the right. I'll draw its attention; see if I can get you some free shots in."

Clyde shrugged. "Better than anything I can come up with. You got biotics, D'mones?"

"Yes. Will we need them?" she replied.

"We need all we can get." Shepard saw the wall begin to bust at the corners. "Get to position."

Once the others were in place, Shepard took a running stance. Once that wall fell, whatever was on the other side was going to need little more than five seconds to raise hell. If he was going to keep its attention on him, he'd have to stay interesting to a machine the size of a brick shithouse. He checked his gun, preparing to become live bait.

The panel sheared in two, revealing a monstrous metal man with yellow armor, an antenna on its back, a lamp on its face, and a heavy plasma rifle in its hands. It acknowledged Shepard's presence with beeps, gurgles, and whirs.

Shepard cursed his pistol's size, and began to fire.