Red Dwarf: Half Way There free porn video

This story is for those of you who ever wondered what might have happened in that first season of Red Dwarf if the writers had a very different vision of the show. Fans will remember specifically the episode "Balance of Power" and the little Kristine Kochanski TG sequence that accompanied the show toward the end. What might have happened if Dave had responded to Rimmer in a slightly different way? You will notice that this story pretty much follows the TV story line until about 60% of the way in. Again, fans will know where it diverges. -------------------------------------------- Red Dwarf: Half Way There At that moment Dave Lister, 3rd technician aboard the mining spaceship Red Dwarf and last human in the universe, sat with his feet up on a console in the drive room. He wore soiled uniform pants and a khaki t- shirt upon which were the obvious remnants of that morning's breakfast of curry and lager. His long dreadlocks were pulled away from his face by an elastic band. Dave thought himself handsome, just as he erroneously believed he was a master of the electric guitar, but he much more resembled a chipmunk with his chubby cheeks and perennially cheerful features. Dave Lister's dead bunkmate, 2nd technician Arnold Judas Rimmer, stood over him intensely concentrating on his task. Rimmer was tall, thin, and uniformed perfectly. His face was severe, though not unhandsome in its own way, and he had a thatch of hair like a thin, rusted brillo pad crowning his head. Lister was checking off things on a clipboard, while simultaneously looking uninterested and almost physically pained. Rimmer said in clipped voice, "140,000 rehydratable chickens." Lister responded in an utterly bored voice, "Check." Rimmer continued with, "72 tons of reconstituted sausage patties." "Check." "4,691 irradiated haggis." With a look that said that he could not take Rimmer's pin-headed insanity any more, Dave begged, "Oh, Rimmer, it's Saturday night. I've had enough." Ignoring the plea, Rimmer repeated, "4,691 irradiated haggis." "Rimmer, it's Saturday night! I want to boogie on down!" "4,691 irradiated haggis." "We've been doing this for four hours! Let's have a break!" "4,691 irradiated hag-g-gis." This time Rimmer stressed the word haggis as if Dave had missed it every previous time. Lister shook his head in disbelief. "Rimmer, will you stop saying 4,981 irradiated haggis and speak to me!" Rimmer looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, appeared to consider, then said, "4,691 irradiated haggis." Lister was a pretty easy going guy. He would not have ended up in the position that he was in if he was anything but easy going, but Rimmer was really beginning to tweak his temper. A bit hotly, Lister insisted, "Rimmer, I want to go for a drink!" "4,691 irradiated haggis!" "I want to have some fun!" "This is fun! Are you mad?" Lister looked incredulous and sat up in his chair. "You read something out. I say check. Where's the fun?" "All right, then, Lister. We'll put you in command for a few seconds, Capitaine." Rimmer sneered and mock saluted. "What's the plan, sir? Come on, lickety split." Lister thought a moment and shrugged. "Go back to Earth." "And in the meantime?" "I don't know, generally slob around, and have a few laughs." Rimmer's sneer remained fixed in place. His mocking tone did not let up either. "Excellent plan, Lister! Excellent plan! Brilliant plan! There was me thinking you hadn't thought about it, when clearly you have. Right, I'll just stand over here and laugh slobbily, shall I?" Lister was immune to the mocking. He'd been well immunized from too many years of living with this man. He just shook his head in disgust. "Rimmer, I'm going for a drink. Gimme me cigarettes." Lister had only agreed to help Rimmer with the ship's food inventory and other shipboard tasks because Rimmer had promised to pay him in cigarettes. Dave was not a nicotine fiend, but he did like tobacco, and since Rimmer had found and hid the entire cache of cigarettes on the ship, List was at the man's mercy. Peevishly Rimmer stated, "I only owe you four and three quarters fags." "You owe me five!" responded Lister hotly. "It's one cigarette for each day you obey me." "Well, there you go. Five days, five cigarettes." "Ah, but I'm penalizing you a quarter of a cigarette for saying 'check' in a variety of silly voices while doing the homogenised puddings." "Well, I'm taking five." Rimmer was a hologram what could he do to stop him? However, Rimmer was prepared for Lister's resistance. "You take five, Lister, I'll eject the rest of the ship's stock into space." Lister chortled. "Ha-ha-ha-ha! So they're somewhere near an airlock?" Rimmer mock-chortled in response. "Ha-ha-ha-ha. You'll never find them, Lister. I was always a master at hide and seek as a child. It's not a gift you lose." Lister glared at Rimmer, but resignedly tore the end off a cigarette. "OK, quark brain." "Even it out," directed Rimmer, reveling in his power over the still living Lister. "Take out the flaky bits." Dave finished shortening the cigarette, and then held it up for Rimmer to see. Rimmer nodded in obvious enjoyment. Flatly Lister stated, "Oh, I really, really hate you, Rimmer." Rimmer ignored him, taunting, "Have a lovely, lovely time, Lister. Give my regards to the air." * * * Lister walked into his quarters. The lights flashed on automatically as he entered. His anger and disgust with Rimmer were getting the better of him today. Living with Rimmer had been hard enough when the man was a living petty little smeg-pot, but death had actually made Rimmer worse. Being senior officer on the Red Dwarf, even though he was still a lowly 2nd technician made him unbearable. At one point Rimmer had decided to re-paint the corridors from ocean gray to military gray, apparently just because he could. Lister could tell no difference in the shades. Dave could not believe that he would be forced to spend the rest of his life with that dead megalomaniac. Lister directed a question to Holly, the ship's computer with a presumptive IQ of 3000. Holly was omnipresent throughout giant mining vessel. "Holly, why Rimmer's hologram? Why did you have to bring Rimmer's hologram back? He was the most unpopular man on board this ship. I mean, he even had to organize his own surprise birthday parties." Holly's soothing cockney tones replied, "And who should I have brought back, then?" "Anyone. Chen. Petersen. I mean, Hermann Goering would have been more of a laugh than Rimmer. I mean, OK, he was a drug-crazed transvestite, but at least we could have gone dancing!" Holly's bald head appeared on a vid-screen across the room. "I brought Rimmer back because he's the best person to keep you sane." "Holly, that is crap," responded Dave. "No, it's not." "What about Kristine Kochanski? You could have brought Kristine back." Holly guffawed. "In your entire life, your shared conversations with her totaled 173 words." "So?" "In terms of wordage, you actually had a better relationship with your rubber plant." "I know, but Rimmer?!" Holly shook his head. "He's the person you knew best. Over 14 million words in all." Lister was less than convinced by that argument. Rimmer would have been wrong no matter how many words had been exchanged. "Holly, 7 million of those were me telling him to smeg off, and the other 7 million were him putting me on report for telling him to smeg off." "Jean Paul Sartre said hell was being locked forever in a room with your friends." As he left the room, he hotly shot back, "Yeah, but Holly, all his mates were French." * * * Lister is sitting alone, sipping a drink. The scene fades to the past -- a party. Lister and three of his friends are sitting at the table drinking, while others dance around them. A sign on the wall reads "NOSTALGIA NIGHT 1990s." Lister and his friends, Peterson, Selby, and Chen are playing a rhythmic word game. PETERSEN: I've been to Titan, I've been to Juno, I can name eight things that go in jars that you know! Pickles! SELBY: Jam! CHEN: Spaghetti! LISTER: Brains! CHEN yells and everyone stops. SELBY: What? In jars? LISTER: My uncle's brain's in a jar. It's really sad. CHEN: Why is it sad? LISTER: He's not dead yet. PETERSEN: Right, everybody's punished. Finish your drinks. They all scull their drinks, and are still horsing around when RIMMER approaches through the crowd. RIMMER: Excuse me, please. Could you please excuse me? Some of us have more important things to do than wiggle our posteriors. Could you move please? Please? Thank you. Could you move? Excuse me, please. Excuse me. Excuse me, please. Excuse me! He runs into KOCHANSKI, who drops her purse. RIMMER picks it up and throws it away. RIMMER: If you want to dance, do it over there. (Calling in the direction he threw the purse) Sorry. He continues walking towards Lister's table. Lister watches Kochanski go fetch her purse and sit down with her friend. CHEN: That woman's out of your league. She's just too classy for you. LISTER: Who is? CHEN: Kochanski. LISTER: I've got no big thing about Kochanski. CHEN: Stick to your usual type. Women with little wispy beards who wear three overcoats and carry little bags full of string. SELBY: Kristine Kochanski? LISTER: Shut up! SELBY: What, Officer Kristine Kochanski? LISTER: Selby, have you ever eaten a coconut whole? SELBY: Ah, you've got no chance with her. You're just too ugly. LISTER: Listen, hadron head, I've got no big thing about Kristine Kochanski! CHEN: I have. SELBY: So have I. RIMMER walks up to them and gives them a triple Rimmer salute. They mockingly return it. RIMMER: Ha ha ha. Lister, where's my revision timetable? CHEN: Sir, it's Saturday night! LISTER: Come on, no one works Saturday night! RIMMER: You don't work *any* night. You don't work any *day*! LISTER: Skive hard, play hard! That's our motto! RIMMER: Look, I've got my engineering re-sit on Monday. I don't know anything. Where's my revision timetable? LISTER: Wait, is this the thing in all different colours, with all the subjects divided into study periods and rest periods and self-testing time? RIMMER: It took me seven weeks to make it. I've got to cram my whole revision into one night. LISTER: Hang on, is this the thing with the note on it in red which said, "Vital. Valuable. Urgent. Do not touch on pain of death?" RIMMER: Yes! LISTER: I threw it away. LISTER and his friends crack up. RIMMER: Ha ha ha ha. Tee hee. Where is it? LISTER: No, I didn't. I pinned it up on the wall. RIMMER: What? Why? LISTER: To dry it out. RIMMER: What do you mean, dry it out? LISTER: Well, I spilled a cold vindaloo on it. Don't worry, it's a little bit red, but you can read most of it, especially if you scrape the lumps off. RIMMER: You spoiled my -- no, I haven't got time. I'm taking learning drugs and all I'm memorising is this conversation. PETERSEN: They're illegal! RIMMER: (Going into a sort of trance) Where's my revision timetable, Lister? It's Saturday night. No one works Saturday night. You don't work any night. You don't work any day. Skive hard, play hard, that's our motto. Lister, where did you put my revision timetable. It's Saturday night. No one works Saturday night. You don't work... He wanders off into the crowd in a daze, muttering to himself. CHEN: I've been to Titan, I've been to Bolanski, I can name 90 men who've slept with Kochanski! Me! PETERSEN: Me! SELBY: Me! CHEN: The London Jets Juniors! PETERSEN: The service droids! SELBY: My mother! LISTER: OK, leave it alone, leave it... His daydream fades, and he's left back in the present, alone in the mess. LISTER: ...alone. * * * LISTER is strumming on his guitar and singing something best left undescribed. RIMMER enters. RIMMER: Lister, what on Titan is this din? *Lister*!! LISTER stops singing and playing. The background tune, if that's the right word for it, continues from the CD deck. RIMMER: What on Titan is this din? LISTER: It's Rastabilly-Ska. RIMMER: (Noticing the CD cover on the table) Is this it? It's got a health warning on it, you know. It's bad for you. LISTER: It's a classic. RIMMER: "Danger. Government Health Warning. This music can make you irritable and irrational and has been linked to disorders of the nervous system and bowels." LISTER: Rimmer, no one takes any notice of that stuff. RIMMER: Lister, if you want to dice with death, fine, but don't poison my sound waves. Off! The music stops. RIMMER: Why don't you listen to something really classical, like Mozart, Mendelssohn, or Motorhead? LISTER climbs into his bunk. RIMMER: I think I've gone video-blind. Is that painting yours? It's rubbish! LISTER: It's a mirror. RIMMER: I need some sleep. He lies down in his bunk. LISTER: Rimmer, do you, ah, do you remember Kristine Kochanski? RIMMER: Navigation officer? Yes, I remember her. Snooty cow. She used to look down on me. She used to call me "Rimmer." LISTER: Everybody called you "Rimmer." RIMMER: Well, it's the way she said it, though. Rimmer. Rimmer. To rhyme with "scum." God, she had a chip on her shoulder, Lister. LISTER: Oh yeah? Well, I want to go on a date with her. RIMMER: Tough. She's dead. LISTER: For just one night! RIMMER: Nope. LISTER: I want to turn you off. RIMMER: Nope. LISTER: For just four hours. RIMMER: Nope. LISTER: And spend an evening with her hologram. RIMMER: Nope. LISTER: Look, I know you're worried I won't turn you back on... RIMMER: Nope. LISTER: But I promise, I swear, if you tell me where you've hidden the hologram disks... RIMMER: Nope. LISTER: Oh, you're not even prepared to discuss it. RIMMER: We are discussing it, Lister. What's this, if it's not a discussion? A diesel locomotive? LISTER: Rimmer, I promise, I *swear* I'll turn you back on! RIMMER: Is that it, Lister? Is that the entire proposal? LISTER: Yes. RIMMER: Well, Lister... LISTER: No, think about it seriously, don't just dismiss it. RIMMER: All right, all right, I'll think about it. There's a long pause. LISTER: You're just going to say no! RIMMER: Don't interrupt! I'm thinking about it. LISTER: But you're just going to say no! RIMMER: Not necessarily. I'm mulling it over. Another long pause. RIMMER: Yyyyyyeeeeee... no. LISTER: Look, what is it, man? Don't you trust me? RIMMER: (Mimes holding up an imaginary card) Black card, Lister. I'm holding up a black card. Conversation over. LISTER: I've always been crazy about her. I never did anything about it. RIMMER: Oh, Lister, you've forgotten the colour code. White. The white card is to continue the discussion, but this is a black card situation. Discussion over. LISTER: Listen,... RIMMER: Da da da, black card, black card, black card, da da da, black card... LISTER: I was talking about something else! RIMMER: White card. Go on. LISTER: Right, for a start, I want to stop all this black card and white card smeg, it's driving me crazy. RIMMER: Black card! LISTER: Oh, for four hours! Just, I want to spend an *evening* with her hologram! What's so wrong with that? RIMMER: You don't know when to stop, do you, Lister? I'm your superior! LISTER: Technician was the lowest rank on this ship. The man who changed the bog rolls was higher than us! RIMMER loses his temper and stands up to look LISTER in the face. RIMMER: Yes, well he's not here now, Lister, and we are, and there's still a pecking order, and I'm pecking you, baby! LISTER climbs down out of his bunk. LISTER: (Threateningly) OK, Rimmer. OK. RIMMER: OK? LISTER: OK. RIMMER: Is that a threat, Lister? LISTER: Yeah. RIMMER: Actually, "OK," Lister, is not a threat, technically speaking. LISTER: It is when you mean it to mean what I mean it to mean, and I mean it to mean, OK, Rimmer, O-K! RIMMER: No, Lister, "OK" is never a threat, no matter how many A's you put on the end. LISTER: I'm going to pass the exams and become an officer. RIMMER: Oh, come on, wise up, Lister! LISTER: You'll have to salute me, Rimmer! You'll have to call me "sir!" You'll have to give me Kochanski! And me cigarettes! RIMMER: And on that day, Lister, Satan will be skating to work. * * * RIMMER wakes up, leaps out of bed, and begins some jumping jacks. RIMMER: Lister! Rise and shine, el slobbo! Come on, I've been awake for hours, Lister! Up, up, up! Come on! Exercise, Lister! Exercise, sonny boy! He finally notices that LISTER's bunk is empty and looks at the clock. RIMMER: Quarter to two? I didn't set my motivator! I was supposed to be up at seven! Why didn't he wake me? He knows I'm a heavy sleeper. Have I got to remind him to do everything for me? He's so irresponsible. Holly, give me a cold shower, will you, please? HOLLY: (VO) Certainly, Arnold. There is the sound of a shower running, and RIMMER begins to shiver. RIMMER: Not that cold! Hotter! Hotter! *Aaahhh!* He leaps to one side, out of the virtual shower. RIMMER: Not that hot! Just forget it. Can you give me a clean uniform? Perhaps you can manage that? His underwear is replaced by a uniform. RIMMER: Thank you, Holly. Where's Lister? He suddenly notices that something is wrong. His right arm is a lot hairier than it was a moment ago. RIMMER: Er, Holly, where's my arm? This isn't my arm. Whose arm is this? HOLLY: I'm sorry, Arnold. (He doesn't sound very sorry.) Your physical data disk has become corrupted. RIMMER: Don't give me excuses, give me my arm back. HOLLY: I'll have to refresh the graphics from a backup. RIMMER: It's got tattoos. "Candy," "Denmark forever." Is this Petersen's arm, Holly? I've got the arm of a Danish moron. HOLLY: If you'll just bear with me for a few minutes, Arn. RIMMER: It's not good enough, Holly. It's traumatic enough being *dead*. (Looks in the mirror) And whose ears are these, Holly? They're like two giant radar dishes stuck higgledy-piggledy to the side of my head. I mean, just look at them! Look at them! Whose were these ears, Holly? An African elephant's? HOLLY: They're your ears, Arnold. RIMMER: Er, it must have been the way I slept. I haven't got time for this. Where's Lister? HOLLY: That information is security protected. RIMMER: What's he doing? (Walks out.) * * * The CAT is sitting at one of the consoles, eating. He finishes the meal and goes over to the food dispenser for another. RIMMER enters. RIMMER: Lister? Where's Lister? CAT: They're all mine! The fish is mine! RIMMER: I don't want your fish, you stupid cat. Where's Lister? CAT growls at him. RIMMER: Idiot. Holly? As senior rank aboard this ship, I order you to tell me where he is. HOLLY: (On a monitor screen) I've told you. I can't. RIMMER: Holly, that's an order! You stupid ugly goit. HOLLY: Ugly? I'll have you know I chose this face out of the billions available because it happened to be the face of the greatest and most prolific lover who ever lived. (Sticks out his tongue at RIMMER.) RIMMER: Really? Well he must have operated in the dark a lot. HOLLY: You what? RIMMER: And when are you going to give me my own arm back? I refuse to walk around all day with Petersen's arm. You know what he was like. God only knows where this arm's been. The arm suddenly slaps him in the face. RIMMER: Ahh! What's he doing? HOLLY: Beats me, Arnie. Seems to have a mind of its own. The arm sticks out two fingers and goes for RIMMER's eyes. He grabs it with his other hand and tries to stop it. RIMMER: Tell him to stop it! CAT: What is this? Cabaret? Entertainment while you eat? RIMMER: No, no, no! CAT: Hey, can you place bets? My bet is on *this* arm! (pointing at PETERSEN's.) The arm finally succeeds in jabbing RIMMER in the eyes. RIMMER: *Aagh!* A bit late, he finally thinks of putting his hand over his eyes. The other arm continues trying to jab at them. RIMMER: Holly, you're absolutely gorgeous and handsome and delicious, *please* tell him to stop it. HOLLY: All right. Just give me a couple of seconds. PETERSEN's arm gives up jabbing at RIMMER's other hand, trying to reach his eyes. RIMMER: Ah, look at that. I've outwitted him. He's given up. Look, he's given up. The hand suddenly jabs RIMMER in the goolies. RIMMER: OOOOOO!!! He doubles up in pain, and the arm takes the opportunity to punch him in the head. HOLLY: There. Done it. Just in time. CAT: Hey! That was good! You should have finished on a song, it would have been perfect. RIMMER: (Still doubled up on the floor) I hate everything. * * * RIMMER walks along, rubbing his head, and one or two other portions of his anatomy. RIMMER: Oohh. Where is Lister, the little worm? 14 Int. Ship's cinema. The Skutters are watching a Western. RIMMER enters. RIMMER: Lister? Listy, Listy, Wisty, Lister? I know you're here, Lister. You're always here Sunday afternoons. (Noticing the Skutters) What are you two doing here?! Skutters don't have time off! They hold up a brush and dust pan. RIMMER: You really must think I'm stupid. I'll deal with you two later. He leaves. One of the Skutters gives him the two-fingered salute. He runs back in, but they both manage to look innocent. * * * LISTER is watching a training video, making notes, and drinking beer. RIMMER enters. RIMMER: You're serious about this, Lister, aren't you? LISTER: Go away. I'm busy. RIMMER: Off! The video stops. RIMMER: You seriously believe a piece of fungus like you has got the stuff to become an officer? You've got the brains of diarrhea and the breeding of a maggot. I mean, what are you writing on, Lister? The inside of a chocolate wrapper?! I mean, come on, where's your loose leaf files? Where's your pencil? Where's your protractor and your hole reinforcers? LISTER: Rimmer, I'm going to pass this exam by *knowing* things. RIMMER: OK, what's a porer circuit? LISTER: Don't know. RIMMER: How do you calculate acceleration? LISTER: Don't know. RIMMER: Oh, this is sad! What's Boyle's Fourth Law? LISTER: Don't eat greasy food? RIMMER: These are basic engineering precepts, Lister! How do you expect to pass the engineering exam? LISTER: I don't. I expect to pass the chef's exam. RIMMER: Chef? You want to become a chef? LISTER: Not really. I just want to become your superior. RIMMER: But a chef? A white hatted ponce? That's not a real officer! LISTER: It outranks *you*, smeg-for-brains! RIMMER: (Noticing something on LISTER's desk) And Lister, what's this? Learning drugs? They're illegal, matey! I'm afraid you're in very serious, grave, deep trouble, Lister. Where did you get them? I want names. I want places. I want dates. LISTER: Arnold Rimmer. His locker. This morning. RIMMER: Why am I worried? You'll never stick at it. You'll never pass. LISTER: Say, "You'll never pass, Mr. Lister, sir!" Practice, Rimmer, makes perfect. RIMMER looks daggers at him, then walks out. * * * RIMMER is pacing up and down while one of the Skutters holds a textbook and the other writes things down in an exercise book at RIMMER's command. CAT is lying on LISTER's bunks. RIMMER: Question four. Underline that. "What does the red spectrum tell us about quasars?" CAT: (Moaning in pain) Oooooohhhhhh! I'm going to die! I've been fished to death! RIMMER: My answer: In answering the question, "What does the red spectrum tell us about quasars?" -- write bigger -- there are various words that need to be defined. What is a spectrum, what is a red one, why is it red, and why is it so frequently linked with quasars? He pauses and looks puzzled. RIMMER: What the hell is a quasar? Just put a neat cross through it and we'll do the next one, OK? We hear LISTER singing (if that's the right word for it) as he approaches. RIMMER: And I think that confidently and concisely answers the question, "What does the red spectrum tell us about quasars?" LISTER enters, bearing an impressively iced cake. LISTER: Da-daaaaaa! RIMMER: Lister! Did you make that? LISTER: Yeah. It's not that good, it was supposed to be roast beef. Do you want some, Cat? It's got some real cream and fudge in it. CAT: Gaaahhh. I think I'm going to have to go and do something secret. He jumps down from the bunk, and immediately regrets it. CAT: Aaahhh! Look out! Food escape! He staggers out the door and down the corridor. RIMMER: Well, Lister. You're doing all right, then? LISTER: Not bad. Not bad at all. RIMMER: Listen, Lister. All this tension between us is stupid. There's just no need for it. I mean, you're tense, and I'm tense, and there's just absolutely no need for it. LISTER: (Chowing down with his cake and a can of beer) I'm not tense. RIMMER: Of course you're tense, you rectum-faced pygmy! (Recovering his composure) Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I mean, there's no need for you to be slogging your guts out. LISTER: I'm enjoying it. RIMMER: Shut up! Doing an exam, and doing so well. There's absolutely no need for it, Lister. You can have the cigarettes, they're in pipeline 22. LISTER: (Holding up a pack) I know. RIMMER: Good. The Cat betrayed me. I don't mind. I'm delighted. (He doesn't look it.) What I'm saying, Lister, is there's no need for us to be at loggerheads. I mean we're mates. We're pals. LISTER: Since when? RIMMER: Oh, come on, Lister! Laugh, laugh, laugh, chuckle, guffaw, giggle! That's Rimsy and Listy! LISTER: When? RIMMER: Millions of times! LISTER: *When*? RIMMER: (Pauses to think) Ah... ah, how about the time your safety harness snapped and you fell into the cargo bay? We laughed then, didn't we? LISTER: I broke me spine in three places. RIMMER: Yes, but it was hilarious! We laughed like drains! LISTER: *You* laughed. I spent six weeks in traction. RIMMER: Yes, that's right, that's right! And you spent the rest of the summer walking around like a croquet hoop! Oh, I laughed so hard I nearly puked, I really did. LISTER: What are you saying to me, Rimmer? RIMMER: (Waxing lyrical) I'm just saying, Lister, that with times as good as those, there's no point in letting something small and silly like this come between a friendship that we've nurtured like a small flower, petal by petal, and watched blossom and bloom into something rare and special. LISTER: OK, give me Kochanski. RIMMER: Smeg off! Dishwasher-breath! You won't turn me back on! LISTER: What, Rimsy-Wimsy-Mimsy, me bestest ever pal? RIMMER: All right, Lister, I *order* you not to take those exams! "No." "You are telling me no?" LISTER: That's only the beginning, Rimmer. When I pass the exams and become an officer, you'll be on latrines. You'll have the three o'clock watch every morning. I know you'll obey me, because you, I mean *you*, respect all that officer smeg. RIMMER: If you mean I respect my superiors no matter who they are, and I obey orders blindly and unquestioningly... yes! Yes I do! LISTER: That's exactly what I mean. Anyway, got to get some sleep, hard days revision on the morrow. RIMMER: You always become the thing you hate the most. Look at you, Lister. Obnoxious, ruthless, single-minded, insensitive. You're more like me than I am. LISTER: Rimmer, you've forgotten the colour code. This is a black card situation, end of conversation. He sticks his finger in the cake icing and paints an H on his own forehead. LISTER: You never learn, do you? * * * HOLLY: (VO) Chef Part 1 examination. Please proceed to the teaching room. RIMMER is pacing up and down, while LISTER relaxes in a chair, reading a zero G football magazine and eating a bun. RIMMER: You're not ready for it, you know. Look at you. You should be doing last-second revision. LISTER: I am. I'm revising buns. RIMMER: I mean, it's obscene! Missing the entire first minute of the exam! He eventually finishes the bun, puts down the magazine, and goes to leave. LISTER: OK, here we go. RIMMER: (Standing in the doorway) No. You can't do this to me, Lister. LISTER: Give me Kochanski. RIMMER: No. LISTER walks straight through RIMMER on his way out of the room. RIMMER: That was a lousy thing to do to a hologram. Have you no respect for the dead? * * * The chef's exam is in progress. Lister is preparing something. The microwave pings, and he turns around to lift a dish out. Behind him, Kochanski walks into the room. Lister turns around, sees her, and freezes with a look of idiotic amazement on his face. KOCHANSKI: Hello, Dave. LISTER just stands there staring at her. Eventually, he realises he's still holding a very hot dish. LISTER: *Aaahhh!* (Dropping the dish and clutching at his hands) Eee! Aaa! Ooo! I'm just doing this errmm, I'm taking this errmm, this is a surprise. KOCHANSKI: Dave, why didn't you just *tell* me how you felt about me when I was still alive? LISTER: 'Cause I'm a dope. And I'm a bum, and I'm stupid, and I'm an idiot, and I'm hopeless, and I'm useless. KOCHANSKI: I'm sorry, but I just don't like you. Dave's face took on a combination of shock and chagrin. "Oh, hey. I'm really embarrassed now. I don't know what to say." Kristine smirked, "I suppose it's sort of pointless you doing the exam now." Resigned now, Dave said, "Well, yeah. It's sort of pointless me breathing in and out, if you want to know the truth." "I could never love anyone like you, so you might as well pack up your pots and pans and off you go. I need a man who's going places! Up, up, up the ziggurat, lickety-split." Lister says suddenly suspicious "So, it didn't mean anything to you, then?" She looked confused. "What didn't?" Dave gestured with his head, pointing in the direction of the rec deck. "You know, when we made love on the snooker table behind the bins." "You never told me that." Dave feigned surprise. "I thought you might have noticed." "Oh yes! Yes! I remember now!" "We've never made love. Go away, Rimmer." Kristine's features looked desperate. She blurted, "Look, look, I'm a bit out of sorts at the moment. I'm having a woman's period." "A woman's period?! Women don't speak like that! Give me a break! I don't know how you've done it, Rimmer, but that is not Kochanski." Rimmer answered him in Kristine's lyrical tones, sounding annoyed, but too damn cute to contemplate. "What's the difference? It's Kochanski's voice! It's Kochanski's body!" "The difference is that it's you in there! Ewwwww!" Lister made a face of ultimate horror, as if someone had poured motor oil in his morning lager. His disgust was complete and utter. Rimmer ensconced in Krissy's body was just a stomach roiling thought of tremendous proportions. He pouted. "You can't blame me for trying. Well, if that's the way you feel then." Kristine's lips smiled at Dave, and he peeked inside her uniform shirt and raised a thin, elegant eyebrow. The smile lit up Kochanski's whole face and extended to her bright blue eyes. "I've seen something that you haven't, squire. Okay Holly, swap discs." Dave shuddered. "Just get out, Rimmer." Kristine Rimmer just stood there waiting for the wave of physical change, but it was slow in coming. As usual, Holly was taking his taking sweet time swapping holographic information, so Arnold Kochanski jiggled Kristine's perfectly heart-shaped behind toward the door of the testing room. Lister could not help but stare at Krissy's receding arse. He could not believe that Rimmer would go as far as this. Rimmer in Kochanski was some sort of desecration of her memory. Dave sighed. He just wanted Krissy's personality disc. He'd been sincere when he said he would turn Rimmer back on after a date with Kochanski. Dave knew that he would never have his farm on Fiji with Krissy, never have his sheep and goats, but he would have settled for one more conversation with her. One lousy date. Was that too much to ask? As Krissy's perfect behind left the room on long, sexy legs, an awful, wonderful thought came into Dave's head--an awful, wonderful, evil thought. Even as he called out, he cursed himself as a fool, but he realized that it might be his only chance to ever get Krissy back into his life. "Rimmer! Wait." The pert ass halted in the doorway. Kristine Rimmer looked back over his shoulder and absently swung long blond hair out of his eyes. Again, the elegant pale eyebrow rose in question. Dave gulped as he recognized those gestures as Krissy's own. This was horribly wrong, but it galvanized his resolve. "Rimmer, just how badly do you want me to not take this test?" Attractive shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. He/she responded coolly, "Lister, I do not care if you throw yourself out an airlock or feed yourself into the fusion drive." Lister smirked in reply. "In other words, you care an awful lot." Krissy's blue eyes narrowed even more frostily at Lister. Dave steeled himself and made his proposal. "Were you serious before?" "About what?" "About staying in Kochanski's body." Arnold Kochanski looked puzzled. "Whatever do you mean?" "Rimmer, you pretty much made it clear before that you would stay in Kristine's body if I 'packed up my pots and pans,' and quit the test." A horrified look came into his face. "What are you suggesting?" "I am saying that I may want to see that view," Dave gestured at Kristine Rimmer's bosom, "that you took in earlier." Arnold Kochanski's head made little desperate shakes that made his long, blond tresses also shake in an undeniably sexy fashion. Unconsciously, she/he drew her arms across her chest in a very feminine gesture covering her already fabric-shielded breasts. "No, no, no. You can't be serious." Lister's face hardened a bit. "Let me point out that you brought this up in the first place." "I did not." "Really? You weren't flirting with me?" "Are you mad, Lister. I am a man. I like women. I am not light in the loafers! I would not flirt with you!" Lister snorted and gestured at Kochanski's stunning conglomeration of curves, blue eyes, bee stung lips, and blond hair. "I disagree. I think it's pretty obvious, that dead or not, you don't have the standard meat and two veg right now on your dinner table." Kristine Rimmer's lower lip trembled. Apparently he did not have an answer to Lister's challenge. Finally, he asked flatly, "Where are you going with this?" Lister knew that he had Rimmer by the balls, so to speak, at that point. Rimmer would never relinquish even the little bit of power he had over Dave without a fight, so getting him to agree to this devilish thing would be easy. The power of a second technician over a third technician was a small thing, but it was everything to Rimmer. Rimmer had no chance of ever advancing any farther "up the ziggurat" not just because he was dead, but because he was utterly incompetent at academically achieving. "Here is what I propose. You stay in Krissy's body, and in exchange, I will do nothing to try to become an officer. You will continue to be in charge of me and Red Dwarf as senior officer." Rimmer was no fool when it came to being a weasel. He knew very well that something more was going on here, but he just could not put a finger on it. Krissy's face took on a look of unremitting suspicion. "And what do you get out of this deal?" Dave Lister answered as honestly as he dared. "Simple. I don't have to look at your ugly puss, Rimmer. This ship is unattractive enough, but seeing you every day makes it uglier. It breaks my heart to know that it's you in there and not Krissy, but at least I get to see her and my bleak existence here is brightened a bit. You won't give me a date with Kochanski herself. Well this is as close as I'm ever gonna come." Rimmer was actually amazed at Dave Lister's attempt at eloquence and his apparent honesty. He was perplexed that Lister would admit to him how sad and lonely he actually was with just Rimmer, Holly, and Cat. Arnold felt almost sorry for him, but although in a female body he was still Rimmer. He shook his pretty blond head. "I don't think so. I am not comfortable in this body. I can't imagine being in it very long." Lister noticed that one of Rimmer's hands, although hidden beneath his crossed arms over Kochanski's breasts, was clearing cupping a breast and presumably a nipple from its position. Dave suppressed a grin. Yeah sure, Rimmer looked very uncomfortable in that body. Hell, the second technician had been Kristine less than an hour, and he was already falling victim to whatever electronic simulations that modeled the female hormones in Krissy's real body. Dave got lost in thought a moment as he contemplated Krissy's body, but remembered he needed to respond to Rimmer. "Uh, well you probably won't have to be Krissy for long. I'm sure I'll grow sick of having her around. You know how familiarity breeds contempt. I'll no doubt get sick of looking at her. That will be to your advantage, Rimmer, because I will stop asking you for her personality disc if I get sick of her face and body. Think of it as aversion therapy. If I am reminded of you every time I look at her, then all that attraction will go away." Rimmer nodded with the logic of Lister's arguments. The Neanderthal actually made sense for once-- although it was still unclear what he would be getting out of this except for a pretty view. When Rimmer had lived back on Earth, he had joined the Love Celibate society. He still believed, as they did, that love was a form of insanity that caused you to spend all your money and lose your mind. Lister was a perfect example of that insanity. The third technician had never even had a single date with Kochanski. There had never been any real connection between the two, but look what Lister was willing to give up just to see her form around. Not only would Arnold be guaranteed to hold the balance of power by Lister agreeing not to try for a promotion, but Rimmer could poison the waterhole simply by being himself. Lister would never want to see Kochanski again after a few days of Kristine Rimmer. But while Rimmer congratulated himself on getting one over on Lister, Dave was thinking the same thing about his bunkmate. "Rimmer, you git, you won't give me Krissy's disk, well, you will be sorry that you ever took me on. Fine, okay, so I don't have the disk, but right now I have Krissy's body--so I am half way there..." Please tell me if this story should be continued with a follow-up episode. Is it worth the effort? Is it a promising storyline?