Trap
Joker privately detested being docked with another ship, especially scummy, derelict cargo freighters... something about all that dead weight clamped to the side of the Normandy made his teeth itch. He scowled at the display that showed the Cornucopia's main VI login, which was politely requesting the lockout codes in order to access the ship's systems. Shepard had taken a small team over to the freighter to check it out, and Joker had hoped he could squeeze something of use out of the Cornucopia's computer.
Suddenly the Normany's sensors picked up a concussive force that jolted the cargo ship's superstructure. Frowning, Joker logged into the shore party's comm channel.
"Commander, I picked up an... explosion or something in there. Everything alright?" he asked tentatively. As he spoke he loaded another decryption algorithm and set it running against the ship's lockouts. Several seconds of silence stretched out, nothing but a soft fuzz emanating from the comm channel. He paged the shore party's hardsuit transponders. Three reported a physical breach- Vakarian, Williams, Shepard.
Crap. "Shore party, respond!" he tried again, a chill in his gut.
"Alenko here..." came a shaky reply. "Some kind of... trap, proximity charge... Goddammit, I can't see anything."
"What's happening? I can't get access to any of the ship's systems." Joker tried to keep his voice calm, even.
"Smoke... an incendiary bomb... the fire suppression system isn't responding! Commander! Can you hear me?"
"...'tenant..." Shepard's voice sounded gravelly.
"Shepard!" The lieutenant's voice pitched higher, sharp with worry.
"Stop!" she barked, then coughed a few times. "There might be more devices, scan for proximity sensors!" she continued, and the change in timbre of her voice told Joker she'd sealed her visor.
"... aye aye!" Alenko responded, sounding like it was the least thing in the world he wanted to do.
"Vakarian, don't move," the commander continued. "You caught some shrapnel. Williams, respond!"
There was an answering groan. "'m sure that's not s'posed to be there..." the chief's voice slurred.
On Joker's console, the decryption algorithm stopped running, reporting failure. He ground his teeth in frustration- hacking wasn't his specialty. He had some basic tools at his disposal, but they were obviously not up to the task. His console remained stubbornly fixed on the ship's login screen, awaiting codes he didn't have. Shrapnel. The images that word conjured made his stomach turn.
"Commander, do you want me to send in backup?" he offered.
"No! The whole place might be wired. Garrus, what part of 'don't move' didn't you understand?"
Shrapnel. Joker paged Doctor Chakwas, reporting injuries. One turian, two human, forward airlock.
"Clear within twenty meters!" the lieutenant reported.
"Good, come here," the commander said. "I'll go-"
"Hostiles!" Williams' voice pierced through the comm channel.
Joker looked sharply at the sensor readouts. He couldn't get any information from the Cornucopia's on-board systems, but connected as they were by the airlocks, the Normandy's sensors could discern the vibrations that meant gunfire. They also began picking up random but powerful electrical discharges that shocked briefly through the hull before being soaked up by the cargo ship's drive core.
"Alenko, get Vakarian to the airlock; I'll cover Williams," Shepard ordered.
Every second stretched into a maddeningly long interval as more gunfire rattled along the superstructure. The electrical fluctuations continued and Joker started to seriously worry about how much the Cornucopia's core could take before invoking the kind of massive flashover discharge every Navy man in the history of FTL travel had nightmares about.
Suddenly he picked up another concussive explosion somewhere within the cargo ship.
"Not too bright, are they?" Williams' voice was thick but strangely jovial.
There was a grim chuckle from the commander. "Nice shot."
Seconds later his neglected login to the Cornucopia's systems lit up like fireworks.
Oh for fuck's sake... "Commander!" Joker called urgently into the comms, "The scuttle charges just armed! Get the hell out of there!"
"Figures," Williams grouched.
"Time to move, Chief!" Shepard declared.
Jaw clenched, Joker tried not to watch the scuttle charges count down as the sensor array picked up more gunfire and erratic discharges. Searching for something to make things go faster, he disengaged the secondary docking clamps holding the ships together, but there was little else to be done. Gritting his teeth, he kept his hands poised over the control console. Come on come on come on...
In what felt like an eternity later, Shepard's voice snapped over the comms, "All clear, Joker!" His readouts registered the outer door beginning to close.
The instant the airlock cycled shut, Joker punched the primary release and put the maneuvering thrusters to full burn. He slewed the nose of the Normandy toward the ailing Cornucopia, shunting full power to the forward shield systems and then pulling up reverse engine power as fast as he dared. The Normandy began to accelerate away from the merchant ship, presenting as small a cross section as its pilot could manage.
Within moments, the Cornucopia bulged and exploded noiselessly, a shattering force erupting from its drive core and tearing the ship to pieces in under a second. The remaining oxygen burned off in a brief orange glow, quickly dispersed by the blue-shifted distortion wave of dark energy that ballooned outwards. A quivering tremor traveled through the Normandy as the wave interfered with its own drive field. Joker logged a few debris hits, but the shields drained too much of the rubble's kinetic energy for it to do any damage, and the pieces skipped harmlessly off the sharply slanted hull. He throttled the engines back, running a forward burn long enough to slow back down.
"The commanding officer is now aboard," the Normandy's VI chirped heedlessly, "XO Pressley stands relieved."
"Yeah thanks for that," Joker muttered. He craned his neck past his chair to look behind him as the inner door of the airlock hissed open. The two marines that had been hovering outside it went in, emerging a moment later half-carrying Chief Williams. Her armor was scorched black along the right front side, and there were a number of gouges taken out of the heavy protective plates. A few pieces of jagged metal stuck out of the gaps, leaking trails of blood through the sooty coating. One particularly vicious-looking shard was lodged in her thigh. The marines arranged her quickly on a stretcher on the floor, then picked it up and started aft toward the stairs.
Alenko came out next, supporting a badly limping Garrus. The turian's armored back was also decorated with burns, scrapes and bits of jagged metal, one notably large chunk protruding from his right shoulder. The two of them also started aft.
Joker sat back, chewing his lip absently. He hesitated for a second before punching up a private comm channel to the lieutenant. "Hey Alenko, anything bad?"
"Uh, no I don't think so," the lieutenant responded shortly, his voice tight. "Flesh wounds... nothing Doctor Chakwas can't handle."
"Okay." Joker shut off the link just as the clump of armored boots on the floor came up behind him, followed swiftly by the cloying smell of burnt composite materials. Shepard appeared beside him, hand raised to her helmet to cycle her faceplate open. Her armor was scorched as well, but in patches, and she seemed largely unhurt.
"Commander, should I just start a tab for your just-in-time saves? My rates are very reasonable," he asked, composing his face into a mask of bland innocence.
"I'll buy you a steak dinner next time we dock at the Citadel," she said laconically, still breathing a bit hard form the narrow escape.
Joker steepled his fingers. "Hmm... as long as it's the real thing and not that vat grown crap."
"Naturally," the commander replied. She thumbed the neck seal on her helmet open and pulled it off, then smoothed back the unruly hair beneath. A sheen of sweat covered her dark skin, streaking the sooty marks on her cheeks. "Any damage?" she asked.
"Chipped the paint job, that's about it."
"Good. Get me a scan of the debris. I want to know if there's any unusual readings."
Joker punched up the scanning array. "Doesn't look like it," he said after a few seconds, "The amount of it suggests there wasn't much cargo to speak of."
The commander leaned in to look at the display, brow creased in thought. Joker glanced over and noticed a gash in her leg armor, just shy of her hip.
"You're bleeding all over my nice clean deck-plates," he quipped uncomfortably. She wasn't really, but it wasn't often he was confronted this directly with the side effects of combat. Shrapnel.
"Everyone got banged up. Feel like volunteering for the next mission?" she asked coolly.
Joker barked a short, humorless laugh. He had a standard-issue Hahne-Kedar sidearm in his locker, but he considered it decorative.
"The whole ship was a geth booby-trap, there for any Citadel ship to stumble upon," Shepard continued, focused on the readouts.
"Geth...?"
"The crew was husked, the operating system compromised... We couldn't get to the logs in time."
Joker couldn't help but be grateful that he'd never seen a geth husk in the metallic flesh. "Looks like you got lucky, Commander. Williams and Vakarian caught a lot of grief there..."
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Shepard murmured absently, staring at the console. Then she stood straight and looked over at him. "That piece of shrapnel sticking out of Garrus' shoulder would have caught me about here," she said, pointing to a spot near the middle her chest.
Joker raised an eyebrow. Saved by the turian... Alenko must've just loved that.
"Set course for Almarcrux and run a charge dump. Then back to the relay," she said crisply.
"Aye aye, ma'am."
Commander Shepard turned on her heel and strode away, leaving the lingering burnt smell in the cockpit. Joker slouched in his seat and closed his eyes briefly, not really wanting to look out the viewport at the drifting debris.
Shrapnel.
