Erudon writhed in his combat hard suit, scraping silvery platelets of dense armor against one another. It felt too tight in several places, and although it wasn't heavy, the cumbersome shell would restrict his movements substantially in the event of a surprise attack. Luckily, the geth squad possessed excellent sensor systems. He wasn't too big on fancy technobabble, though he was certain his unit would have the element of surprise. It irritated him slightly, knowing the extra precautious were necessary since they were dealing with an elite spectre. If it had been his choice, he would have destroyed the spectre with his bare hands, maybe in the nude, like the legendary warriors of old.
Times had changed. Now everyone had to hide behind thick plates of metal and complicated energy shields.
Two synthetic companions quirked their flashbulb faces at him as they walked at his side, as if sensing his sudden wave of discontent. The machines possessed a level of intuition that did not sit well with the krogan.
"Eyes forward!" he barked at the synthetics, and they instantly obeyed. He liked that about the geth. They were excellent combatants, too. Not a match for a squad of krogans, but it was so easy to control a machine.
One day, he would fight alongside his krogan brethren. Erudon hated turians just as much as the next krogan, but Saren was no liar. He was a suave guy, spouting on about honor, respect, and keeping one's word. Turians loved that kind of crap. For all their snootiness, turians usually stuck to their guns. Erudon was glad to have those guns on his side, for once.
Vakarian clenched an empty fist, frustrated by the memory of his donation to the thankless salarians. The spaces between the cliffs were wide, and offered scant cover. He wanted his sniper rifle.
Whatever danger he faced, it would be negligible against the hellish firefight the salarians were dying in at this very moment. Anger dampened to anxiety, as Garrus realized that his rifle could be sitting in the mud beside a fallen soldier who gave his life to ensure Shepard's success.
Vakarian was not going to let such sacrifice be in vain.
"Liara", he called out, assault rifle unfurling in his hands. "Take Wrex to the farthest side of that rock wall. I'll cover your advance".
"Like hell!" the krogan barked defiantly. "You expect me to sling her over my shoulder with one hand and just keep shooting with the other? I don't know what action vids you've been watching, but I need both hands to fire accurately".
"Wrex, don't be-"
"No", the asari interrupted him. "It's alright. I will follow you, Wrex. My skills will compliment your own".
The krogan finally relented, and executed Garrus's command. Neither saw Liara smirking as she followed to the cliff wall; for all their bickering, the archaeologist was still a superb mediator.
Vakarian checked his rifle for the fifth time. Efficiently designed weapons rarely required reloading; he was more concerned about sustained fire. A cheap rail extension boosted the firepower of his rifle, but made his weapon more prone to overheating. Gunnery Chief Williams suggested installing a heat sink, but Garrus had been busy running diagnostic scans on the Mako. When he got back aboard the Normandy, he intended to take Williams up on her offer.
A sharp thunderclap, and Garrus halted.
"Kill them!" a ferocious roar echoed across the cliff walls. Tactics could compensate for the superior numbers of the geth, but Vakarian grew short of breath when he recognized the resonant battle cry.
Krogan.