The CSS Sleipnir floated slowly amid the debris of the asteroid field. The powerful electronic systems scanning and seeking the location of the Banshee, it hadn’t left the field, thus was still here somewhere hiding.

The computers traced and discarded thousands of radio transmission both natural and artificial as the massive communication arrays sought out any trace of their pray. Seated aboard the command chair, the Wolf tapped sallow fingers on the arm of his chair. His eyes reading every bit of data the CIC deemed important…and that meant anything that could be a trace transmission.

Vibrational patterns were detected that didn’t match any of the known artificial communications patterns. Nor did they match the natural patterns that would be found in the asteroid field. Slowly, subtly the Sleipnir, began tracing the electromagnetic radiation of the scramble field.

The Sleipnir was unable to see the Banshee yet, and thus by deduction the Banshee was unable to know the precise location of the Sleipnir. The massive communication arrays had begun isolating the source of the trace transmission. Slowly the cruiser dipped and lowered it self along a course that would allow it to surprise the hidden ship.

Aboard the Sleipnir, the crew focused on their mission; hunt down the Banshee…while the captain was good, he was not aboard a warship. The Banshee would fair badly in a battle with the warship. The muted communication was only necessary if it pertained to their mission, other than that communication was kept to a minimum.

Slowly the triangulated electronic fields narrowed the location of the Banshee to one place. A thin smile crossed the lips of Captain Demopolous as he scanned the data before him. The Banshee could not detect them on scanners just as they couldn’t detect the ship itself and relied on the trace signatures of the transmissions.

The aboard the Cruiser the command was given to power the missiles for a 37-degree spread pattern. The rail guns powered up and the turrets turned to the starboard, the massive guns glowing blue as the electro-magnetic rings charged with the electrical energies required to propel the sabot rounds.

The massive guns elevated and angled along a 27-degrees arc along the bow plane of the warship. The plan was simple, the warship has extremely accurate targeting computers, once the ship started to clear the debris that hid the Banshee it would automatically target and fire two braces of missiles.

The massive rail guns would then begin firing into the bracketed area, hammering the space that the Banshee would be. Even if the ship turned to run, the targeting systems would have a clean lock on the ship and begin zeroing in on the engines. The heavy rail gun sabot rounds would continue to hammer the space until they hit the freighter or the missiles did.

This action was precise, effective and thoroughly undetectable by the Banshee, unless she exposed herself sooner to locate the Sleipnir. If she did, she would be thoroughly surprised at how close the Sleipnir truly was, and then the computers would take over and the situation would play out.

The Banshee was to be damaged and possibly destroyed if the ships captain failed to yield to the Sleipnir, there was no other possibilities, the tactics too precise, after all they hunted slavers who used similar methods of hiding in the past.

Captain Demopolous grinned as he heard the voice of the Admiral, “Ah Admiral I am delighted to hear you are still alive. I doubt you remember me, but I was an ensign in your command many lifetimes ago.”

Looking at the data as it streamed in on his monitor, the Wolf said softly, “Admiral I care not for your meaningless threats. I have a clear lock on the Banshee it fired its engines, my missiles cannot miss, they will kill the ship with simple press of a button, I have the same missiles that you carry, you know I speak the truth. And if that event happens, I become a hero for killing an enemy of the Confederacy; you become a disgrace because you failed to return with a prototype shield generator. Oh yes Admiral we know what is aboard the ship, just unsure of who wanted it.”

The Wolf heard the soulful hum as the missile lock hummed through the ship; he allowed the sound to be piped to the Admiral’s ship, before he spoke again, “However Admiral I have a proposition that can allow us both to win. I will allow the Banshee to…escape… as I fended off three imperial warships…a cruiser and two screening destroyers. You merely place them on station outside the asteroid field, removing the crew and I destroy them. You make off with the shield generator. I become an Admiral and you can shuttle your prize back to your scientist.”

The Wolf grinned; he knew he had the advantage. Regardless of the power of the fleet, they had the same weapons he did, he was close and he could kill the Banshee before the guns of the fleet killed him. Any Naval combat systems officer would see the Banshee was dead in space if the Sleipnir fired. No matter how much the ship tired to hide the missiles had a lock, they could not escape…they would die. Unless of course the Admiral was willing to sacrifice three ships for a prototype defense system, and that should be an easy choice. He had after all learned negotiations from Admiral Knox.

The Wolf laughed a hearty laugh that carried across the communications channel, “Admiral do you doubt I can kill the Banshee? Very well then I die a hero and you lose your precious prize. I asked for three ships, simple enough, yet you choose to try my hand? Very well say good-bye to your cargo and your citizen.”

The trap had been set as the ship had moved; the Banshee was now caught and would die. The Wolf tapped the CIC channel, “Begin, we shall have to end this quickly.” Tapping the general channel, he spoke again, “Crew of the Sleipnir…today we strike a blow for the Confederacy and deprive the Imperial forces their prize.”

Sitting down he looked at the screens, it had begun and would end one way, the death of the Banshee and the Sleipnir.

The array on the side of the ship closest to the Banshee sparked and glowed as a massive EMP burst raced out from the ship, catching the Banshee in its wake, shutting down the systems on the ship. Even behind the asteroid the Banshee had sought shelter behind was unable to stop the massive burst of energy that coursed around it and flowed onto the Banshee. The laws of physics dictated such a wave function would occur and it had. It was a beautifully simple way the universe worked, a simplicity that allowed for assumptions that would be bore out in even combat amongst asteroids.

Regardless of how protected the ship believed itself to be, an EMP detonated in a close wave directed fashion would burn down the defenses of the Banshee. After all it was a mere freighter and not a warship, and even then a warship would be damaged and disabled after such an event.

Following close behind came the ECM missiles that arced and soared inward on the ship called the Banshee, their hammering and confusing electronics scrambling the space around the Banshee, depriving any sort of possible jamming that could have survived from the close proximity EMP burst, that had preceded them.

Behind the Wild Weasel ECMs came the hammering armor piercing missiles and high explosive missiles, zeroing in on the ship that had been bracketed and targeted earlier. The missiles speeding in on their inert target began a cacophony of destruction as missile after missile hammered the hull of the freighter. The resulting explosions, scattering debris as the missiles continued to hammer the ship which merely floated with no direction except that provided by the kinetic energies transferred by the missiles.
The armor piercing missiles fired by the Sleipnir, ripping away the plates that protected the Banshee, the engines being damaged and torn asunder by the destructive forces that rained upon the Banshee.

With a slight expelling of the maneuver engines the Sleipnir shifted slightly, allowing the massive rail guns to sight on the inert ship. As they cleared the asteroid, the blue glow of electro-magnetic energy flashed as round after round of armor piercing sabot round pummeled the helpless freighter.

Heavy, shaped Sabot rounds, accelerated by the electro-magnetic forces that rung the barrels of the rail guns arced out into space, their deadly gleaming bodies reflecting the cascading explosions of the missiles that sailed past them towards the ship that was the focus of so much anger.

As the smart rounds began to hammer the body of the ship they would bore their way into the interior of the ship before exploding. The massive damage to the unarmored interior would effectively kill anything that sought shelter inside. Expelling the compressed gasses and heated plasma created by their impact as they shore through the hull, creating plasma bursts that would consume what oxygen that remained in the Banshee.

The Sleipnir was good, but even they were not perfect and as such they failed to account for the three slaver ships that had been floating in the asteroid field. In fact the CIC was so focused on their mission, a scan passed by the fevered and overworked eyes of the sailor assigned to account for extra spatial bodies in the target zone.

The small line of data was digested and analyzed by the targeting computers as an incoming threat, a destroyer with a great deal of trace elements still aboard that attracted the attention of the threat board.

The sailor merely glanced over the data and assumed the target isolated was the Banshee, after all the large mass if material was floating behind the asteroid. All combat data was now funneled on the limp and dead destroyer, its massive form attracting the attention of the missiles and guns that were fired on what the Sleipnir had assumed to be the Banshee.

The Sleipnir broadcast to the Imperial Fleet, “Imperial Fleet, the CSS Sleipnir has fired upon slavers in conjunction with our Distress Beacons noting the injured at this mining colony from a slaver attack. Should you fire upon us you will fire upon a rescue mission as we have already claimed status as such.”

The scanners aboard the fleet, which was further away from the asteroids, and from a position in which they could scan with more clarity than the Sleipnir would be able to, had witness the CSS Sleipnir disable the Banshee and then unleash all hell upon a slaver ship.

Even to a hardened veterans of the Fleet the skill and precision of the attack was classic in its effectiveness. It was a well executed attack and had it struck the intended target, it would have decimated the Banshee easily. The Sleipnir scanned what they could, a massive slag of misshapen material that floated in space, dead. What they didn’t see was the Banshee that drifted, behind the battered hulk that was once a destroyer, inert and floating slowly away because of the kinetic force of the Sleipnirs weapons.

The second John's hatch opened, something came flying through the opening and threw itself on him. It was June, apparently happy to see him for the first time in over six years. But before he even had a chance to fully realize that June had him in a remarkably warm hug, she pulled back and struck his chest with a balled up fist. "You idiot!"

For a moment, she glared up at him, blue gray eyes fierce and her teeth clenched. He was obviously a notable amount taller than her, but with the appropriate amount of rage, she had the distinct ability to tower over anyone. "What were you thinking? Were you trying to get yourself killed?! Maybe you should have just flown directly into the nearest sun, it would have made things a lot easier on you!"

June remained staring at John for another long moment, her gaze penetrating and annoyed. It had been a long time since there had been a greeting between them that didn't start out with an insult, but it had been even longer since she had looked at him quite like that. Once, when he had decided to borrow one of Uncle's razors and try and shave off facial hair that wasn't there yet, she had given him that same look. Times like that. That 'you're going to hurt yourself and I give a damn,' kind of look. She kept this on him for another moment. Then she hit him again. "You're an idiot."

And with this, she turned to go. But she stopped after a few steps, sighed, and ran one hand through her short, gold hair.

John leaned glumly against the cargo bay airlock. June was leaving the Banshee for her own ship. With heavy heart, John waited for her to leave with the last of her stuff. He had her contract in his hands, it still was good for three more years. He could make her stay if he wanted.
June stepped out Banshee for what she assumed to be the last time. She had taken a few moments to see the places she remembered from spending so many years doing so many chores. The Banshee had been her home...more than any other place or thing. And John...what had John been? What had she wanted him to be? Did it even matter any more?
'He bought you!' Those words echoed still in her head, and her aching heart hardened. She couldn't quite bring herself to face him as she walked past. But she paused, clearing her throat and searching for proper words. Part of her, deep, deep down, wanted him to say...something. To ask her to stay. But the rest of her was simply itching to run and not look back. Ever.
"...Well...I'm leaving.."
"I know," said John softly, "Here.....it's your contract and a list of a few of Uncle's contacts. I hope you'll be happy off the Banshee." He held a stack of papers out to June. Each of his words felt like a nail in a coffin and handing her the papers, the first shovel full of dirt. "Whats the proverb Uncle told me once?" he thought, "If you love something, let it go free, if it comes back cherish it, if it doesn't it was never really yours? Yes I think that was it. Please come back to the Banshee June, please, come back sometime."
June stared at the papers for a moment, feeling her chest constrict rather painfully. Almost gingerly, she took the papers and set them on top of her last bunch of belongings. She then stared up at John, gray blue eyes drinking in every detail of his face. She swallowed, then cleared her throat once more, turning away. "Yeah...thanks."
As she walked away from the Banshee, away from John, once her back was set firmly to him and nothing but her golden hair visible from his field of view...her pride began leaking out of her eyes. She didn't look back, she didn't call out any last farewell. But once she was safely in her own ship, and once the hatch had closed, she slid to the floor and dropped her items to the ground. The papers John had given her fluttered to the floor and she pressed her face into her hands, a few choked sobs escaping between her fingers in her first moments as a free woman.
John watched as June walked away, his fingers drumming on the hatchway. "Turn around" he thought, watching her fade into the crowd, heart hurting, "Come back to the Banshee, come back to us,......Come Back To Me." After a few hours, he gave up waiting and closed the hatch. He walked to his quarters, dragging his feet. First Uncle, now June was gone. The Banshee never seemed as empty or as unwelcoming to John as it did now. He laid down on his bed and didn't move. Jack readied the ship for departure and the Banshee rook off for her next port, Leaving June behind for the first time in years.

"So you're alright then? You don't need anything?" She had turned back to face him, looking almost...almost...embarrassed.

June paused, staring at John for a moment, then a slow smile worked its way across her face. She fought it away, and managed with a straight face and a serious voice, "You're still looking for a partner, then? Hell, I need a drink. You thirsty?"

And she turned to go once more, stopping and looking back to wait for him to catch up.

June considered pointing out how difficult it was going to be to get a decent drink, without any trouble, with John bringing his slave along. But she held her tongue, deciding that John was many things...but 'completely dense' was not on the list. She also decided, however, that finding a bar that lacked a great number of people would be a good idea. The first one was full of individuals whose heads lifted at the sight of John's...friend...so June quickly walked on towards the next. Two bars later, and there was no one inside but a couple of drunks who were so busy being passed out that they were unlikely to cause any trouble. So she walked in, nodding to the bartender as she slid onto a stool and fished a bit for her payment. The boys on the Temperance had done well with the risky job that she had started, resulting in a wonderful pay that would certainly be able to buy her a few drinks.

"So, what kinda jobs you going to start out with?" She asked in a nonchalant manner.

June chuckled a bit, tossing back a shot and glancing over at him. "I...ah...was actually wondering if you were still interested in me as a partner."

John leaned back and looked at June through half closed eyes. 'I thought you laughed at me when I said that last time" he said with a grin. He had already decided to work with her, life was just more fun with June around. It would be nice to have her closer to him anyways, even if she didn't like him like he liked her.

June merely shrugged, stacking her empty shot glasses in a bored manner. But there was just the slightest trace of pink to her cheeks. It was true. She had mocked the idea of them working together again. But that was when she had still been under the impression that being near him would be painful. Finally, she thought of something to say.

"If you don't want me around, say so. I'm sure I can find someone that doesn't complain every time he gets a box dropped on his arm." She shrugged again. Then shot him a grin. Looking away once more, she paused again. She normally didn't take this long to formulate her thoughts.

"...Why'd you...um..." She cleared her throat, downing another drink. "So why'd you kiss me? Don't recall us being on kissin' terms."

"Well" said John, "Uncle told me that either the worse decisions or the best ones are made drunk. So I'm in, lets be partners." He smiled and tossed back another drink as June started to speak again.
"So why'd you kiss me?"

John choked on his drink for a few seconds. "I...um...I" he muttered, placing the shot glass down, "Well.....you know....I was doing the hero thing....heroes always kiss the girl before doing something stupid.....like draw a Confederate task force down on themselves."

June chuckled softly, her cheeks growing a tiny bit warmer as she spun a glass around on her index finger. The hero thing. Of course. Biting back on her disappointment, she nodded and twisted in her seat, taking John's hand and shaking it. "Alright then. Partners."

Then, an idea struck her. Still gripping his hand, she leaned over...and kissed him. It was slightly different than the quick thing that he had given her before rushing off to his death. Long enough for someone in the pub to whistle, but not quite long enough for him to register and respond. She pulled back, winking at Rose. "Before you do something stupid, right?"

John's eyes widen and then he started to chuckled again. He was somewhat drunker then he had been when June had first sat down, His chuckled changed over to a soft laugher.

Rose stared at the two humans, some what confused. She knew that there were hidden means in their talk and half hinted wants but knew nothing of their history together to piece it together. She did find that last comment funny though and purred in her feline laugh.

June grinned, then rose to her feet. She rubbed at one eye, stretching out with her free arm and emitting a slight groan. It had been a long, eventful trip getting to where she was now. And she was tired. Time for a rest.

"Well...that's my limit for the night. Let me know when you're ready to get started, will ya?" She asked as she fished out the credits for her bill.

"I'll give you a hungover call" said John grinning, "Or a drunk call in a few hours. Either way I'll call ya." John grinned and laughed, it would only take a few more shots of Imperial Scotch to make him conk out. Rose continued looking between the two, trying to figure out the words they both wanted to hear the other say.

June paused yet again. She nodded, a slow smile building on her face. She would say nothing. She would do nothing. The fact that they were on friendly terms again, the fact that he had actually welcomed her back onto the Banshee again for a short time, was miraculous. And it was as good as it was going to get. So she grabbed up her jacket, tugging it on as she nodded once more.

"I'll be waiting."

John smiled and waved goodbye. He was getting drunk and things looked good on the horizon. The Banshee was once again in her home space as was her captain. Rose gave June a calculating look and then at John. Those bright humanish eyes studying the both of them.

June made her way back to the Temperance, a comfortable glow emanating from her core. And it wasn't just the fine booze. No, this was something more. As she entered her ship, her house, she nodded at the boys who kept her running so well, who had proven themselves worthy of living in her baby. She made her way to her bunk, kicked off her boots and flopped onto the bed. She closed her eyes, smile remaining settled onto her face as if it would never leave.

She was home.