Cannon to left of them

There are too many geth, too many synthetic bodies and even with the salarians – fewer now than they had been – at her back she can only hold out so long. But this is not Shanxi, and there are no civilians here to sacrifice, no hard choices to make anymore. She's made the last hard choice she will ever need to make, and now it's down to holding the line. And she will hold. She will hold the line until the last second of her life, and restore the Williams name in honour.

Cannon to right of them

Her gun is close to overheating but she can't stop, can't do anything but pour her hate into them, into their metal bodies and faceless flashlight heads. She will not fail, and although she will fall, it won't be for a few minutes yet, and it won't be alone. And when she is gone, the Williams name will be clean again, and maybe the old man will have a smile for her in heaven.

Cannon in front of them

She doesn't need to hold out long. Just until the countdown ends. Just until the bomb goes off.

Volley'd and thunder'd

They're throwing everything they have at her now, primes and armatures and snipers, and she takes a shot to the arm and as the blood pulses slowly from the hole in her flesh she realises that her shields must be down. She's going to have to be more careful to keep in cover – such as it is and what there is of it – because even if nobody ever knows she will not give these synthetic sons of bitches the satisfaction of killing her.

Storm'd at with shot and shell

The first grenade takes her by surprise, a salarian beside her exploding into paste, but after that she knows to look for the tell-tale flashing lights and ducks and dodges and weaves, and they don't come close again.

Boldly they rode and well

After a time she realises that she is alone, dancing a lethal gavotte through the fallen bodies of her allies, hiding a moment behind the corpse of an armature before rolling out of cover and spraying down her enemies with hot metal, and she almost laughs because they can't touch her, they can't-

Into the jaws of Death

-they can't, but they did, and she stares dumbly for a moment at the small puncture in her armour. She's a dead woman now, but she can still take an honour guard with her, and she moves again, firing and dancing away, and then it is time. The scream of the alarm is piercing and she has a moment to turn toward the bomb and smile triumphantly before-

Into the mouth of hell

-before the bomb goes off and thermonuclear fire flays her. They told her once that at the centre of a bomb blast there is no time to feel pain, and she spares a millisecond to call whoever that was a goddamn liar, because it hurts, oh it hurts. Pain and fire fill her body and her mind and she can feel her flesh peeling away, but she won, she protected the bomb and she didn't let the geth kill her, and she's redeemed the family name and maybe even saved the world. She sees her sisters and her mother and her old and bitter grandfather, and they're all smiling and proud, and when she screams in the moment before she is immolated completely it is not a cry of pain but a shriek of victory.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wonder'd.

Honour the charge they made!

Honour the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!