"Submarine?" Shepard repeats with a note of honest confusion and incredulity. The hallways is bog standard for a space outpost, so standard that it doesn't occur to her that they might be groundside until he tosses out that observation. She glances back at him, her brows knit, and then returns to looking for a weapon.

"Where the hell are you from?" She asks sharply and, this is important, mostly rhetorically.

She could probably punch anything smaller than a Krogan to death, if it came to it, but if something fast and deadly hit them from a vent she would prefer to be armed. Unfortunately this means ripping something off the wall to use. That thing doesn't look important--she grabs it and yanks it hard.