GALACTICA SDF THE PURSUIT (or: RIGEL, QUEEN OF FILLIES) DAVEY JONES Version 2.0 Rigel brushed an errant black lock from her eyes, puffed a droplet of sweat from the tip of her nose, and glared at her opponent. Andri, her blonde locks likewise soaked with perspiration from the exertion of the game, glared genially back. "Go!" announced the computer scorekeeper, and the disk floated from the ceiling of the playing court. Rigel and Andri launched themselves into the air simultaneously, each aimed at the point where the disk would be when they got there. Rigel noted that she had aimed higher than her friend. Good! she thought, Andri miscalculated. Easy catch! Sure enough, Andri's trajectory had flattened out earlier; Rigel was going to be within range of the target first. She smiled triumphantly, slender fingers reaching for the spinning plate-- there it was; she just about had it, just about-- Rigel yelped as, her fingers centims from the playing piece, a strong hand grabbed her ankle and yanked, hard. Her forward motion stopped, leaving her drifting slowly in midair in the court as Andri, smirking wickedly, aided by the impetus of her own 'block,' shot up past her startled roommate to grab the disk and keep going. Rigel howled and went into zero-gee contortions designed to get her moving again from a weightless standstill. To no avail; Andri convulsed as she flew, straightened facing Rigel's goal, and snapped her arm around. The discus shot away, arrowed through Rigel's goal with as clean a trajectory as could be dreamed of. Rigel's goal lit up, and the scorekeeper chimed. Andri whooped victory, throwing her arms and legs out, hopelessly upsetting her own flightpath. The scorekeeper continued flatly, "Score for Andri. Registered high score achieved. Declared victor, Andri." There was a pause. "Do you wish to reset for another match?" Andri stilled her tumbling, grinned at her friend. "Well? How about it? Want another rematch?" "No," Rigel said darkly as she finally reached the ceiling of the court, arms and legs collapsing beneath her to absorb her slight momentum. "I've had enough." "You sure?" Andri asked gleefully. "That's only six matches you've lost so far. In a row. Today." "Enough!" Rigel snapped, shook sweat from her eyes, the droplets floating away in the errant breezes in the gym. "I'm through. I've got things I need to do." Andri, still grinning, reached the nearest wall, hooked a handhold. "Suit yourself. Don't say I didn't offer. No," she addressed the scorekeeper, "no more matches." "Very well," the computerized voice responded, "please orient yourselves. Gravity will return in one centron. Nine. Eight. Seven." As the count finally reached zero, both young women felt themselves gently become heavier. The gravity remained at no more than a twentieth of a gee until they touched the floor; it gradually increased as they proceeded toward the exit, until, puffing, they were walking with full weight again. In the locker room, they dumped their wet gear into the cleaning bin, moved into the refresher. Rigel was unusually silent, and Andri, perpetually cheerful, was ill-disposed to let her friend stay that way. "Sister," she announced, scrubbing soap under her arm, "you were sad today." Rigel's reply was nonverbal and noncommital. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before. So what's the problem?" "Who says I've got a problem?" Rigel returned, meeting her gaze steadily. Andri threw a handful of water at her. "I do. Remember me? Your roommate? Blazes, Rigel, you've only been my roomie for a couple of sectars and I already know you're one of the moodiest people around." "I am not," Rigel disputed, poking her lip out. "Yeah?" Andri asked, lifting an eyebrow. "Then how come you can normally play rings around me in here, and for the last couple of sectons you've been about as sportive as Commander Adama?" "No reason," Rigel asserted, sticking her head under the water to rinse her ebony hair. "I'm just...just working on something." Andri winked at her. "Oh, yeah? Something? Or Someone?" "Andri!" Rigel protested, turned her back on her friend. Andri giggled cheerfully. "Hah! I knew it! Who is it, that pilot you had the hots for?" "Andri!" Rigel shrieked, her arms straight, fists made. "Hah!" the blonde chuckled. "I've still got it." Rigel turned away again, finished rinsing the soap from her hair, and turned the water off. "Well, you can keep it to yourself, darn it." She stomped out of the shower. Andri, still grinning, finished her own wash and followed her roommate into the locker room. Rigel wrapped her hair in a towel and ignored her friend just as industriously as she was toweling her body dry. Andri pulled her own towel out, rubbed her own shorter locks briskly for a moment, and set to work drying herself. "So," she continued as though there had been no pause, "who's his girlfriend?" "He doesn't--" Rigel stopped, glared at the smugly smiling Andri. "Who?" she asked pointedly, glared away again. "Okay, he doesn't have a girlfriend," Andri noted. "Is he married? Or is he some woman-hopping sludge?" "No. I don't--is he a what?" Rigel draped her towel across her shoulder, loosened the one around her hair. Fanny-length, sopping wet black hair flopped down her back. "Eek!" she squealed. Andri laughed, laid her towel on the bench and sat down on it, patted it in front of her. "Here. Siddown. I'll help." Rigel did as ordered, and Andri began motivatedly drying her friend's mane. "Now, since I'm doing this for you, you can do me a favor," Andri announced. Rigel glanced suspiciously over her shoulder. Andri smiled, tugged hard on the long hair. Rigel yelped, hastily turned back around. Andri stopped working for a moment, leaned forward, lowered her voice. "You can remember that I'm your roommate, and I'm your friend. I'm the person who has to live with you. And I don't like moody roommates. Understand?" She punctuated the question with another tug. Rigel's hand fluttered briefly. "Ow! Yes! Don't pull!" "Good," Andri responded in satisfaction. "Then since you know that I'm not only your friend, who genuinely wants to see you happy and healthy and worth a damn on the disks court, but your friend who loves to mess in other people's affairs, why don't you just lose the silly Dread Secret act?" Rigel's small shoulders lifted, descended in a massive sigh. Andri paused in her work to pat her friend on the back. "There. Good girl. Now, down to business." Her tone became businesslike. "It's that Flight Sergeant Dannel you told me about, right?" Rigel nodded silently. Andri gave her friend's long hair a quick tug, got a surprised yelp. "I can't hear you," Andri suggested predatorially. "Yes!" Rigel admitted hastily, sitting very still. "Yes, it's Dan." "Good. Now we're getting somewhere." Andri switched to another section of hair, started toweling it dry. "All right. You said he wasn't married, right?" Rigel nodded quickly. "How about the other things I asked about? He got a girl already?" "I don't think so," Rigel answered more slowly. "Okay. Well, he must be a pretty right guy, or you wouldn't like him so much," Andri concluded. "Now. You do like him; that much is obvious. He's the reason you've been so preoccupied the past couple of sectons, right?" Rigel nodded quietly and Andri let her get away with it. "Okay. Why aren't you out running him down?" "Andri!" Rigel protested. "I can't!" "Why not?" Andri retorted. "You Caprican girls got something against chasing a guy you like?" "It's not that," Rigel insisted. She hesitated. Andri kept drying. Rigel took a deep breath; emboldened, she plunged forward. "I don't know whether he even remembers me any more." "Probably not, if all you're doing is admiring him from afar," Andri offered dryly. Rigel shot her a brief glare. "I've met him!" she asserted. "A couple of times. He's nice. He's more of a gentleman than Zac is, that's for sure!" "Who?" "His wingman. The one who introduced us." "Well?" "Well what?" "Well, if he's a gentleman, and he doesn't have a girlfriend, and he's not a sludge, then why the dobe aren't you out there chasing him instead of making my life miserable?" Andri bellowed genially. Rigel was silent. Andri stopped drying as a hint, but her friend stayed quiet. Andri shrugged, let her stew, went back to work. "Because I don't know how to get his attention," the dark-haired girl finally said. Andri considered this. "All right. Good point." She smiled brightly. "He's a pilot, right?" Rigel's answer was curiously hesitant. "Well...he flies." "Close enough." From out of the corridor, the sound of approaching feet grew in volume. Rigel glanced behind her, and her dark eyes widened. "Andri! Put on some clothes!" she hissed, quickly standing and moving to her locker. Andri glanced down at herself, grinned. "Hey, it doesn't bother me if they get wild with jealousy and envy." In the mess hall, the young women sat in as secluded a corner as could be found. Andri had her usual huge meal; she knew it drove Rigel crazy that she could eat as much as she wanted and not gain a kilo. Rigel had only taken a piece of bread and a glass of chai, and was working industriously to reduce the bread to crumbs before she could eat it. Andri waited until she had a few mouthfuls of food in her before she brought the discussion back to life. "Okay. So you haven't figured out how to get his attention. He's a pilot, right? Which squadron, Blue or Red?" "Blue." Andri swallowed, cut another bite, talked as she chewed. "Actually, I don't guess it matters. If he's a pilot, he needs all the friends he can get. You couldn't ask for a better setup." Rigel's dark eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about? Pilots have one of the best jobs in the Fleet." Andri snorted; Rigel dodged crumbs. "That's a laugh. Rigel, hon, look at the statistics. Last time I checked, we had about ninety fighter pilots. And that's when you total up after the pilot losses we took at Kobol a secton ago. We have support and shuttle pilots, but the fighters are the ones who have to defend the fleet. Ninety of them. That's over two ships per pilot. Those poor suckers have to work harder than any maintenance technician. They get to spend centars, sometimes days stuck in those little cockpits. They get to go out every day flying blind in this be-damned Void and pray to God that no cylons show up. When cylons do show, they're the first ones to get killed. We've only got ninety-some-odd pilots now because a lot of 'em are half- trained. How long's Dan been one?" "Since...since the Holocaust, I guess," Rigel hesitantly ventured. Andri shook her head. "Then he's one of the newer ones; he's got it harder than the old hands. They've got to pull patrol like they're fully qualified, but they still get to come back and pull training and detail and God knows what all else." "I know," Rigel murmered sympathetically. "I've seen them a couple of times." "Have you heard what the civilians say about them?" Andri asked her grimly. "Or what the Twelve Deadheads say?" Rigel shook her head in pretty confusion. "They complain because the pilots get regular food, good quarters, opportunities now and then to go to places like Sauraship or the Rising Star when they do get a night off, while the esteemed citizens of the Fleet are left to continue their day to day life." "Well," Rigel said doubtfully, "I guess if someone is living in luxury right now--I mean, with things still as rough as they are--" Andri snorted again. "Rigel, those pilots are usually pulling daily shifts; sometimes they pull shift-on shift-off or round the clock duty too. By the time they get done defending the fleet, they haven't got the time or the energy to go anywhere or do anything. They're probably the most overworked people in the Fleet. And like I said, they're the first to get killed if a cylon patrol finds us." Rigel's eyes misted; Andri realized she'd emphasized the wrong point to her young friend. She patted the girl's hand. "On the brighter side, the defense has been good so far; we haven't lost any more pilots for a while now. But most people don't know everything that goes on with the pilots; they just complain all the time. And that bunch of alleged Councilmen just complains right along with them, never mind that the Council makes sure to feed their own little pet security force; 'oooh, the pilots are eating too much'." Her voice dripped sarcasm. Rigel looked away, distressed. Andri pushed on. "See what I mean? They need all the friends they can get." Andri realized a perfect solution to her friend's problem, took a moment to gloat silently to herself before continuing. She lowered her voice, spoke more seriously than she usually did. "Rigel, honey, would you like to see some really miserable young men and women? Go down and watch a patrol flight come back in." Rigel's brows drew together. Andri explained. "Most of them, this is all they have. There aren't more than a handful of 'em with families or relatives. The rest of them, the only people they get to see is each other, and their superiors. And then, whenever they get back, they get to hear more complaining about the cost of keeping them outfitted and flying. Everyone else knows they're going to be alive for a while to come; they're putting down roots. Most of those pilots know they'll buy it, sooner or later, just doing their job. And most of the people around here know it, too. And they'll still whine about them, and still treat them like lepers. You ought to see some of the medical reports about alcohol abuse in the pilots' ranks. It's sad, it really is. Those people could use more friends." Rigel was definitely looking unhappy now; Andri could tell she'd planted the seeds of thought in her friend's mind. Now to give them a little help in sprouting. "Don't take my word for it. You need an excuse to see him again, if I read you right." Rigel blushed, looked away. "Well, go down and watch the squadron that's out now come in. Watch what those pilots are feeling. You'll see." Rigel was silent. "Besides," Andri continued, smiling again, "it'll give you some time to figure out what you're going to do with him once you've got him." Rigel rolled her eyes. "Andri, I can't just go to his quarters and ask him if he'd like to go out!" she objected. Andri swallowed, gulped a mouthful of korov. "Why not? I'll bet seducing him would get his attention quick!" "Andri! Not so loud!" Rigel exclaimed, looking frantically around for eavesdroppers. "What if someone hears you?" "So?" A thought occurred to her. "No wonder you're all jumpy and moody. When was the last time you got some?" Rigel's blush deepened; she looked away. Andri gaped at her in disbelief. "Rigel--you're not still--" "Will you please be quiet?" Rigel begged her, making frantic shushing motions. Andri chewed thoughtfully. "You know, if you got him drunk," she began, and choked laughter at the completely anguished look on her friend's face. She put her hand on Rigel's comfortingly. "Calm down, sister. We'll work on this one part at a time. Okay; sleeping with him's out for now, I take it?" Rigel nodded firmly. "Okay. How about a show?" "Pilots may get passes to the Rising Star," Rigel noted in distress, "but Survey and Rangers don't." "You don't have to go to the Rising Star just to catch a show," Andri pointed out. "Go to one of the lounges and dial up a vid from the library. You can find a couple of seats far away from the others, too. I can show you a few that are good for snuggling and all if you like." She paused to enjoy the return of Rigel's blush. "There are smaller rooms where you can pick up IFB, too, if you're really into training and maintenance vids. Or you can invite him to go and play some kind of game with you, stickball or billyarks or disks or whatever." Her eyes twinkled. "If you're going to play triad with him, you better get used to the idea of one on one." "Andri, stop it," Rigel insisted. "You know," Andri offered conversationally, "I'm enjoying this project more and more already." She smiled comfortingly. "Rigel, you can go for a walk with him or bring him here every day when he gets back and have a meal with him. If you're always there trying to get his attention, trust me; you're going to get his attention. There's no avoiding it." Rigel's expression became of thoughtful. Andri pressed the point. "Really. Even if I'm wrong and he's bez or something, what have you lost? A little time each day that you've been spending cooped up in the room moping anyway. No great loss there," she concluded darkly. Rigel was obviously entertaining the thoughts her friend had introduced, Andri was pleased to notice. She finished nervously shredding a napkin and caught her friend's eye. "Do you really think I'd have a chance? With a pilot, I mean?" Andri eyed her critically. "Rigel, you're friendly as anyone could want you to be, you're outgoing, you're smart as a whip, and frankly, you're cute as a button. If he doesn't want you, you're wasting your time; there are lots of other guys who'd probably love to land you." Rigel smiled, making circles with her fingers on the tabletop. "Try what I suggested. Go down and watch a flight come in; see what those poor people look like after a patrol, especially the ones that haven't got anywhere else to go but back to their barracks. See if you wouldn't like to make the offer to be friends with him." Rigel stared at the plas under her arms for a long, quiet moment. Andri finished her meal while her friend considered. Finally, the girl looked up. "Thanks, Andri. Really." "Me?" Andri protested. "For what?" "For being my friend." Rigel squeezed her hand; Andri returned the pressure, smiled. "And for at least trying to put me on track about this." "You going to try it?" Andri asked. "That's all I want to know." Rigel nodded hesitantly. "I'll try it. You're right. I don't need to keep sitting around just dreaming about him. If he's not interested, well, I'll just have to find someone else to bestow myself on!" The young women laughed together. "That's the spirit, sister!" Andri cheered her. "Get him!" Rigel nodded firmly, slid out from the table. "Going to try right now?" Rigel shook her head. "I'm just going to check the schedule. See when the flights take off and come in." "Go for it. Good luck." Rigel nodded acceptance, smiled, and strode purposefully to the exit. Rigel's hands covered her ears against the roar of ship engines and the thunder of half a hundred small loudspeakers braying instructions and information. The catwalk she stood on extended up and down the length of Beta Bay, usually used by technicians and support personnel to move quickly to trouble areas--running was still faster than the slidewalks that paralleled the landing field. It was a perfect vantage point to watch the pilots who were moving to their fighters in preparation for launch, and the pilots who were returning from patrols. A group of young warriors strode quietly into the hangar from beneath her. She observed them carefully. They were still young, not much older than herself. But for most of them, the ability to smile seemed to have been burned out. They talked quietly as they moved to their fighters, returning the greetings of the ground crews but without enthusiasm. One or two climbed into their cockpits; the others just sat down on the gantry steps, hung their heads tiredly. "Stand alert on the flightline. Blue Zero Three, Four and Seven on landing approach," the overhead speakers blared. "Emergency crews on standby." Another speaker added to the cacophony. "Attention on deck. Red Zero Three through Seven, ready your ships for launch. Launch in three centons. Repeat, launch in three centons." The newly-arrived pilots offered each other a mutual high sign, trotted to their fighters. Andri was right, Rigel thought with a pang of sympathy. They look half- dead. If they're any example, it's a wonder anyone's willing to be a fighter pilot. She felt a surge of affection for Dan. Well, if he wants a friend or a girlfriend, I'm here. Her lips twitched. If I can find him. Out on the landing field itself, a line of vipers glided in, engines whining furiously. Their progress slowed as they neared their bays--Rigel noticed that they were headed for the opposite side of the bay, the second slowing as had the first, drifting to the outboard side of the deck. She had just decided she might as well make note of the next time Blue was going to have a patrol out and go back to her room when the third of the incoming trio of fighters drifted into her sight. Rigel caught her breath with a delighted gasp. It's him! It's Dan! Indecision froze her where she stood. Her heart pounded in her chest. She took one small step toward the crosswalk, and another, her eyes searching the distant shapes eagerly for details. Despite firsthand knowledge of the man, a laugh escaped her. On the nose of the third viper a flightsuited man sat spraddle legged, for all the world like an ovine herder on his equus. Indeed, as she watched, the figure reached back and slapped the hull of the fighter as though it were some recalcitrant beast. In response, the pilot of the fighter kicked his engines into screaming overdrive, jolting his ship suddenly to a slower speed. The seated figure slid forward and off the nose of the craft, then darted back into the air in defiance of gravity. The man fluttered back and sat directly on the canopy of the pilot's cockpit, folded his arms and settled in for a stay. She took a deep breath, steeled herself. Right. Here goes nothing. She dashed to the crosswalk, took the stairwell two to the step, and ran as fast as she could. The landing field was a fifth of a kilom across; she was breathless by the time she got to the other side. Going down the steps to the catwalk was quicker. She took a moment to get her bearings, dashed in the direction the last viper had been going. Please, God, I'm going to try. Don't let me miss him. She raced right through an astonished party of technicians, slowed as she came in sight of the last of the three vipers settling into its cradle. She stopped, watching, trying to see just who was in each viper. One man, stepping from his viper and removing his helmet to frantically scratch at long, dark hair, was immediately set upon by a beautiful, long- haired woman and a small boy who launched himself much like a little viper. That's Captain Apollo, Rigel thought, smiling to herself. Andri was right. Look at him, how happy he looks. He has a wife and a son here to greet him when he comes back. He really is one of the lucky ones. The second viper's pilot had emerged as well, his helmet already off; she recognized Lieutenant Starbuck, abrasive daredevil pilot of Blue Squadron, even at a distance--no other pilot would smoke a stig in the cockpit of a fighter. A tall, dark- skinned woman gave a similarly cheerful greeting to him, her enthusiasm gaining her a round of applause from the support crew around the man's fighter. That's Captain Noday, Rigel nodded. I heard about those two. Rigel leaned forward hesitantly. She didn't see Dan anywhere, and her heart began to race again apprehensively. What if he just flew back across the bay? What if I missed him? What if-- Her thoughts were interrupted as the third viper's canopy whined and lifted and the final pilot pulled himself up. She wasn't certain, but she thought she recognized him as well. She moved forward to the edge of the walk overlooking the bay. She gasped when the third pilot rose weightlessly from his cockpit, thrashing about and bellowing protests to the unheeding gods. That's Zac's voice, all right. Maybe Dan hasn't-- Then she laughed as the dark-clad man about whom she'd thought so much recently descended from the ceiling of the cradle like crawlon toward its prey, coming to a stop in midair next to the upside-down Lieutenant Zac. "Let me down, dammit!" the young pilot bellowed. "My name's not dammit," his adversary responded calmly. Zac thrashed harder. "Dammit, Dan, lemme down and leave me alone! That's an order!" "As you wish, oh hot pilot." Zac dropped like a plummet, braking at the last michron to land on his shoulders in his cockpit. Dan descended to stand on the viper's nose. "I'll leave you to get down on your own then, oh navigator beyond reproach." "Get your butt back here, Dan!" Zac shouted, struggling unsuccessfully to pull himself from his cockpit. "You get me out of here!" "Make up your mind." "Hey, man, just because you're a bad loser--" Dan glanced pointedly at the canopy that obligingly whined and descended, about to lock the unfortunate lieutenant in his cockpit in a very uncomfortable position. Rigel couldn't help herself; she laughed out loud, cheerfully and long, leaning against the railing. Dan looked up toward her; he grinned, nodded and took a bow. That sent Rigel into fresh peals of merriment. Apollo, arm in arm with his wife, his son on his shoulders, strode past the war zone. "Let him out, Dan," the man ordered amusedly. "He's got to get cleaned up sometime before the next patrol." Dan threw his commander a sloppy salute, drifted into the air as the canopy opened back up. Zac screeched as he zipped into the air and dropped to the floor, stopping bare centims from certain damage. And hung there. "All right, Dan," Zac said aggrievedly, "no more redhead jokes. I promise." "No more betting on my conduct, either," Dan suggested, descending to almost touch down. Zac shook his head frantically. "Okay, okay! Just let me down. Easy!" His body rotated until he was lying on his back in midair; then he dropped, slowly and peacefully to the deck, landing lightly as a feather. "Agreed, partner," Dan smiled smugly. Rigel was still giggling, unable to tear her gaze from the young man who so fascinated her. He had already removed his own helmet, freeing an auburn ponytail to drift down his back. His face was long, high-cheekboned, pleasing to her eyes. His eyes drew her attention in spite of herself; solid, featureless ebony pools. He was tall, well built; in spite of what she had blushingly and silently admitted to Andri, Rigel knew enough about men to have dreamed of that body more than once already. She noticed with a start that the two pilots, still cheerfully arguing, were passing beneath her. She looked around frantically, found where they were headed, likely avoiding the stairs and the walkway in favor of the slideway down the bay to the elevators and turbos that would take them without exertion back to the primary hull of the battlestar. Oh, no! she thought frantically. I'm going to miss them! She took a breath to call out, to get their attention, to slow them down and give her a chance to reach them-- --and froze. She was still too nervous to do it. The two pilots stepped onto the sliding belt that was moving toward the bow of the bay, were whisked away, still gesticulating. Rigel came out of her paralysis with a jolt. She took off down the walkway toward the nearest stairway, threw propriety to the winds by riding her hands down the handrails, and came to a hard landing on the deck. She glanced at the two dark heads dwindling in the distance and broke into a full run. she dashed full tilt through the first access gate she reached, maintaining her balance only through sheer force of will as the belt's motion picked her up. Running on a slidewalk was never recommended. Another couple of hundred metrons distant, the pilots hadn't seen her precipitous approach. She was already panting from the exertion; any other time she would have stopped, caught her breath, carefully considered her next move. She was too scared that they would reach the elevators before she could catch them. She took one deep, shuddering breath, dashed onward. A long five centrons later, she pounded up behind them, panting enthusiastically. The pilots broke off their discussion to look surprisedly at her. Zac eyed her curiously. "Hiya, Rigel." He glanced back at the distant viper cradles. "Long time no see." He shrugged. "What's up?" For a moment she was too breathless to answer; she waved one small hand, gasping loudly. The men looked at each other, rolled their eyes. When she was able she looked up. And up. The top of her head barely came to Dan's shoulder if she stood straight up. As she lifted her head, her eyes met his-- --and she froze again, purely human trepidation locking her tongue in neutral as her mind frantically raced. She couldn't look away. She had been longing for this moment--to be this close to him, to be looking at him, enjoying the lines of his face, feeling his presence, so close to touching him--and she had no idea what she was supposed to say. Zac saved her life, she decided later. "Ahem. Yo. Galactica to Rigel. Come in Rigel. Hey, Rigel, you can come down now. We don't smell that bad." She shook her head, looked away, felt herself blushing. She wailed silently to herself. I don't know what to say, what to do! He'll think I'm an idiot! He'll never want to see me again! She felt her eyes stinging, and knew in another moment she was going to start crying, out of sheer embarassment if nothing else. "Came to see me, huh, Rigel?" Zac grinned, punched her gently on the shoulder. It rocked her sideways; she staggered into Dan. She gasped, put her hands against his chest to steady herself. His body was hard, steady, something to brace against. His own fingers on her arms were gentle, but firm. Their touch felt like fire to her, even through his gloves and her sleeves. "Be careful, you twit," Dan said genially. "You told me people aren't supposed to mess around on a slidewalk." Dan looked down at her in friendly concern. "Are you all right, Rigel?" She nodded hesitantly, then again more strongly. More than anything else she could remember, she did not want to have to move right now. "Hey, sorry, Rigel," Zac apologized and laughed. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to make you fall." "It's--" She had to gather her scattered wits before she could continue. "It's all right, Zac," she said, took a deep breath. "No harm done." She believed she had her voice under control. Zac noted the tremor in her words, looked hard at her, noticed just how enthusiastic she seemed about moving away from his wingmate, and grinned mischievously. "Well, anyway," he continued smoothly. "What brings you out here right now, all panting and sweaty?" I'm dead anyway, the girl mourned silently. What have I got to lose? She glanced up at Dan--steeling herself not to melt when he smiled--and grinned cheerfully at Zac. With incredible reluctance, she pulled her hands from Dan's broad chest, slid one hand around his arm and the other around the grinning Zac's. "I just came to see if I could interest you two in seeing a show tonight," she said firmly. The pilots glanced at each other; Zac's expression was--rarity itself!-- unreadable. Both shrugged in unison. "What's playing?" Dan asked. She gaped; she had not expected an automatic sign of interest. All the conversations she had dreamed in past sectons fluttered around unattended in her mind. She told him, stuttering, and went on to explain. "It's a historical drama of some kind. I'm told it's a classic." Her voice weakened as neither pilot said anything. "I thought maybe you'd be interested--" "Well, Rigel," Zac said, grinning as the girl didn't even look at him, "I don't think I can make it, myself. There's a little nurse who's offered to heal my poor wounded spirit by teaching me the finer points of Gemonese Bump- Dancing, and I'm supposed to meet her in just a little while." Dan's eyebrows shot up. "You didn't mention anything about *hnnh!*" He jerked as Zac very unsubtly kicked him in the shin. "I thought you wanted to-- hey! Stop that! What the--" He broke off to dodge as Zac nimbly tried to kick his other leg. Rigel turned around to eye him curiously. "Leg cramps," Zac explained glibly, dancing around and rubbing his calves. "Anyway, what I was going to say, is that I'm meeting my nurse later tonight. Didn't know what I was going to do with tall, dark and cranky here. But listen, Rigel," he said to her, with as much seriousness as he could muster, "if you can drag Flight Sergeant Stoneface--" "Har har har." "--to that show, I'll make it worth your while. Heck, you keep him out of my hair tonight, I'll send you two to dinner on one of the luxury ships next time he's got leave, on me. How's that sound?" Rigel just stared; she didn't believe this exchange was taking place. Dan seemed equally doubting; he reached forward, laid a hand on Zac's forehead. "Are you all right?" he asked. Zac pulled his head back. "Hey, I just want to be alone with a girl, and you are not invited." He grinned, winked at Rigel. "What, have you got something against Rigel here? You don't like her, maybe?" "What are you--" Dan started. Zac bulled onward enthusiastically. "You got some reason you don't want to go to a show with a pretty girl? What, are you bez or something? You want a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend? Hey, I may want a new wingman! C'mon, Dan, let's hear it--" "Zac, shut up!" Dan said loudly, and looked apologetically at the stunned girl. "Rigel, I apologize for him. I don't know what the devil has gotten into him, but--" "It's all right, it's all right," Rigel stammered, still staring up at him. She shook her head, forced herself to look away. "I just thought maybe you'd like to watch a show, or something--" "Certainly," Dan said. Rigel blinked and stared, disbelieving. He couldn't have just said what she thought she'd heard. "I would be delighted." "Really?" Rigel asked him softly. Then she realized that he really was smiling and nodding. "Really?" "Good," Zac said. "That's him out of my hair. Lemme know when you want that pass, guys." Dan eyed him. "You really are coming down with something, Zac." His friend raised his hands, pointed at the fast-approaching lift. "Hey, don't mind me. I've got a date." The trio stepped off the slidewalk, Rigel's hands on Dan's gallantly offered arm, and stepped into the lift. Rigel couldn't believe her good fortune. Not only had she attracted her favored young man's attention, but she had a date with him as well--a semi- private one. She talked cheerfully with the man, explaining just what she knew of the film she'd looked up Just In Case, explaining to him when she would come to get him, and what they might be able to do after the movie had finished. Dan just nodded, relaxed, offering few comments to stem the flow. Zac grinned silently as he watched the young woman getting happier with each passing centon. He noticed that Dan was already looking more relaxed, the stress lines that had begun to mar his forehead easing even as he conversed with the friendly girl. No doubt about it, he thought to himself smugly, this may be the best thing to happen to Dan in a long time. If anyone can whip him back into shape, it'd be Rigel. She's a scrapper if ever there was one. The trio divided at the far end of Beta Bay. "This is where I get off, guys," he said, waving them on. "You kids have fun. Try not to do too much that I wouldn't do." He grinned at Rigel's obvious exuberance. "And try to take pictures if you do, okay?" "You're sure you don't want to come?" Dan offered. He obviously didn't notice Rigel's fingers tightening on his arm, but Zac did, grinned even bigger. "Nope. Rigel's cute, but this little medico's got her beat." Dan inspected his escort critically. "I don't know about that, Zac," he offered with a considerate nod. "I think I may have gotten the best offer tonight." "So there," Rigel added, sticking her tongue out. "Nyah." Zac matched her. "Nyah yourself." He turned to leave. "Have fun. See you later, Dan." "Night." His friend was immediately guided off by the cheerful babble of the dark-haired young sergeant on his arm. Zac watched them until they disappeared in the distance, sighed, shook his head. Damn, he thought in amusement, who'd've ever thought I'd have to play big brother? And it took Rigel long enough to make up her mind about wanting to chase the man! Treen! Wouldn't take me that long. Maybe. Usually. He shook his head, turned and headed for the pilots' section of the ship. And Dan...you'd think he'd never seen a girl who's infatuated before. And people think I'm dense! Zac sighed, kicked thoughtfully at the deck. Ah, felgercarb. Now I've got to find something to do this evening! I would help my best Pyramid Mark get a date! ende GALACTICA SDF: The Pursuit first appeared in GALACTICA #18 from Clean Slate Press