Fic: Shadows - R/L (imp.) - PG-13 - 1/?
Mar. 30th, 2008 10:44 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kahvi.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
reddwarfslashTitle: Shadows
Rating: PG-13, for implied gore.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Spoilers: Post-series VIII, so everything. ;)
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
smaych
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Red Dwarf. Nor do I make any money from this fannish venture.
Notes: I meant for this to go out during Easter, the traditional season of murder mysteries in Norway, (no, really) but as often happens with these things, it got delayed. Thanks to the always amazingroadstergal for contributing one of Kryten's lines. As always, concrit is thoroughly welcome!
All was quiet on what could charitably be called 'the bridge' of Blue Midget, and Lister, truth be told, was feeling rather charitable. Beside him, Cat snoozed quietly, either convinced that Lister would not notice, or utterly not caring if anyone knew. Probably the latter. It was all good with Lister, who, after having a quick look around to make sure the coast was entirely clear, sneaked a hand into the back pocket of his trousers, and pulled out a crumpled, glossy sheet of paper.
“Theeere we are!” Rubbing his hands together, Lister carefully unfolded the sheet, turning it around a few times to determine the right way up. This done, he settled back in his chair, put both booted feet firmly up on the console, and...
“What's that you're reading, Dave?”
An adolescence filled with curious aunts and nosy nans had provided Lister with excellent reflexes. When the first, unmistakably female syllable escaped Kochanski's lips, the glossy sheet was already back in Lister's pocket. “Wha? Oh... nothing. Just having a look at the manifest.” He pulled an entirely different sheet, creased and blotchy with ink, out of his front pocket. “We're running low on food; might consider checking out that science station we picked up on the scanners earlier.”
Kochanski took the paper from his hands, frowning. “That's where we're headed now; you'd think you would know that, being at the helm. Why is the cargo manifest written on a chocolate wrapper?”
“We're not exactly awash in JMC letterhead stationery, are we?” Lister snatched the paper back. “So, good then. That's settled. We're going to the station.”
“Of course we are; that was settled yesterday morning during the first-shift briefing.” Kochanski pushed against the back of his chair, craning her head over the side. Lister could smell what had to be that scented soap they'd found that only she had wanted, and if he leaned just a little to one side, he could feel the edge of one of her breasts... “Are you paying attention?” Kochanski's face hovered over Lister's, like an bad moon. Her long hair brushed against his nose, making him fight the urge to blow it away with a well-placed puff.
“Of course I am.”
“You know,” she caught a hold of Lister's chair and whirled it around, leaving his head spinning, “I don't think you ever do!”
“Oi!” Lister jammed his feet firmly on either side of the chair's legs, to keep her from doing it again.
“Do you have any idea what the destination we all agreed and voted to go to is? Do you remember what I hypothesized they might be doing there? How long it will take us to get there?” Before Lister had a chance to reply, Kochanski hurried on. “No, you don't, because you were reading AR manuals all through the meeting! And don't bother denying it,” she added, when Lister opened his mouth, “I saw that lurid pink cover peeking up from behind yesterday's meeting minutes. I mean; why? What's the point – the tiny AR machine we've got is broken, anyway. What are you going to do; imagine you're in a sim?”
Lister brushed her hand off the armrest. “We didn't used to have meeting minutes, you know. We didn't use to have meetings at all.” Except when Rimmer got the urge, and herded them all into the mid-section to drone on about his latest pet peeve, but there was no reason to tell Kochanski that. If Lister told her he'd endured meetings for Rimmer, but not for her, he'd be in more trouble than he apparently was already.
“Well, then it's high time you started, isn't it?”
Swinging the chair away from her, Lister shrugged. “It's nothing personal, or anything. It's just we never used to have such a rigid 'command structure'.” He made little quotes with his fingers in the air.
“And there was no need, was there, on Starbug?” Unable to move the chair with Lister's feet still firmly in place, Kochanski forced herself into Lister's field of vision instead. “But this ship...” She reached to knock on the ceiling with a fisted hand, “is tiny. They named it Blue Midget for a reason. If we're going to survive at all without any of us getting cabin fever and slaughtering the others in their sleep, we're going to have to get a little more organized.”
“Well that's never going to happen, is it? What with just the one bed and us having to sleep in shifts,” Lister snarked, regretting it instantly, when Kochanski seemed to gain steam.
“Precisely my point! There's only barely room for one person to live in this here, much less three people and a mechanoid.”
“Kryten is a person.”
“You know what I mean; he doesn't need food or sleep. He's not bothered by cramped quarters.”
Oh really, Lister thought, remembering their time in quarantine. It seemed eons ago, now. “Yeah? You ought to try calling him 'tetchy' sometime.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I promise I'll do my best to...” Lister searched for the sort of words Kochanski would want him using, “stay more focused on the task at hand. All right?”
Looking a little puzzled, Kochanski nodded. “Right. OK. That's all I'm asking you to do.”
Hoping the conversation was over, Lister pretended to concentrate on the dials in front of him. As he had no idea what most of them were showing, this was no mean feat.
“Right.” Kochanski jerked a thumb in the Cat's direction. “And wake him up, would you?” When the click-clack of her heels sounded away into the distance, Lister breathed a sigh of relief.
“She's got your nuts in the cracker, bud.”
Lister turned, sharply. “Oh right; and what's it to you, eh?”
Preening and stretching, Cat threw a lazy glance in Lister's direction. “Nothing. Just glad it's not me.”
“She doesn't have my anythings anywhere, all right? I'm just trying to get along. And come to that, she is my superior officer.”
Cat snorted. “Yeah, and you cared so much about rank when fridge-magnet head was around.”
“That was different. You know what Rimmer was like.”
Shuddering, Cat shifted into a more comfortable position. “Believe me; I'm trying my best to forget.”
Not a bad idea, Lister thought. No use dwelling on the past, was there? Not when there was no chance of it ever coming back. That was what the past was like, when you got down to it. “Yeah, well,” he said, leaning over and shifting his weight onto one butt-cheek, allowing him to sneak a hand back into his back pocket, “check this out.” Lister pulled out the glossy sheet again, waving it triumphantly. Here, at least, was one thing the universe had not managed to wrest away from him.
Cat's eyes lit up, and his nostrils did that odd little dance they did when fully alert. “Woah,” he breathed. “What is it?” Eager, he made a grab for the sheet, but Lister, prepared for this, pulled it back with a grin.
“Oh, no you don't! This,” Lister shook the page, “is the centerfold for Bikes & Babes magazine leather bikini issue. The stuff of legends, man! I've kept it with me ever since we lost Red Dwarf. The first time,” he added, when Cat didn't seem suitably impressed by this. “It's been to hell and back, this. I rescued it from Starbug's wreckage, kept it under the mattress in my cell. I almost lost it when they took my clothes.”
Cat curled his lip in distaste. “You always keep it in your back pocket?”
Lister nodded. “Yeah. I like keeping it on me, so I know where it is. It's been a job and a half, keeping it out of harm's way with Kryten dragging my clothes off to the wash the moment I take 'em off. I swear, one day he won't bother waiting, and I'll be in the spin cycle along with them, centerfold and all.”
The sudden, chirpy mechanoid voice took them both by surprise. “Good evening, sirs! I believe it's time for changeover. You'll find dinner is ready in the kitchenette. I've done my best with what we have, but I'm afraid...” Kryten blinked, leaning closer to the centerfold. “Oh, my!”
Lister grinned. “It's something, ain't it?”
"Oh, indeed, sir! Excellent eye. The BMW R1560R integrated two hot little processors into that CANdoBUS engine control system - just the thought of those sexy little pieces controlling those massive heads makes me..." Lister shared a worried glance with Cat as Kryten began to practically gibber. "Ahem - sorry, sir, that's what the sight of a fine paralever system does to me." He nudged the, by now, highly disturbed Lister, and gave a wink. "I used to fantasize about the CANdoBUS processors interfacing with the ABS control module in a highly naughty fashion."
Not knowing what to say, Lister made a polite grimace, and turned to Cat for support, but the feline had fallen asleep again, snuggled up impossibly small in the tiny seat.
Lister still couldn't remember what Kochanski had said about it, but the station certainly looked impressive from the air. Built on a small planetoid, the research station – complex, rather – took up most of the surface area that wasn't mountains. As Blue Midget leaped and bounced its way to a landing, the sheer size of the place impressed itself on all of them, and the ship's cramped cockpit was unusually quiet as they hopped to a halt.
Cat craned his neck, as if that would help him see the tops of the enormous buildings. “What is this place?”
“It's a research station,” Kochanski explained, with the air of a parent carefully explaining what the family's holiday destination was for the fiftieth time on the plane over. Oh wonderful, Lister thought; with him, she was patient. “Built by a company called OmniThrust.” She pointed to the outline of a what looked like a boomerang, or a stylized wing, surrounded by lines indicating speed. “That's their logo, there.” She frowned. “Except it's the wrong way round from what I remember.”
Kryten shrugged; always a challenge, with mechanoid shoulders. “This is a mirror universe, after all.”
“Back in my dimension, they did research on hyperspace drives. I've no idea what they'd be doing here though.”
“But ma'am,” Kryten protested, “there's no such thing as hyperspace. That theory was rejected even before I was created.”
Kochanski gave a quick smile. “Well, I was born long before you were created, Kryten. This was built much later though, obviously. Whatever they're doing, they're clearly well-funded; this is three times larger than the Genentech III biotech complex, and that covered an entire asteroid, forced into orbit around Saturn.”
“Maybe hyperspace exists in this dimension?” Lister suggested.
“Highly unlikely, sir, though I suppose not impossible. Which begs the question, did they find a way to reach it?” Kryten and Kochanski exchanged glances. To Lister's eye – and hadn't Kryten said he had a good one? - they looked rather worried.
The mood was getting rather too gloomy for Lister's tastes. “Hey now; you both said it was totally safe, right? No life signs; the scouters reported no radiation, no suit-invading toxins, no nothing. And there's even a working atmosphere inside still, yeah?”
More worried glances. Finally, after what seemed like an argument conducted entirely with raised eyebrows – or in Kryten's case, eyebrow ridges – Kochanski cleared her throat. “Yes, well. But Dave, what we have to consider... there has to be a reason why this station was abandoned. They would have dismantled it if they left peacefully. Far too wasteful to leave all this steel and plasticrete just lying around.”
“So?”
“So, if they found a way to reach hyperspace; if they created some sort of portal, someone or something could have reached them.”
It was a little like going into a shopping center after closing time. Large areas of see-through plastic and open spaces, clearly meant to be well lit, now loomed above them sullenly in the darkness. Kryten was taking point, on his own insistence, Kochanski close behind. Lister's job, as usual, was to keep the Cat from becoming too distracted by his surroundings, and loosing track of the others. Right now, he was batting at a series of decorative silver strips hanging from the ceiling.
“Come on, man,” Lister pulled on his arm, “we don't have time for this.”
Cat ignored him, cheerfully. “I could find a million uses for these. And that's just in terms of accessories. As-is, I bet you could roast chickens in them.”
“Yeah, if we had any chicken, which we don't, which is why we need to find the chickens.” Cat frowned at him, and Lister shook his head. “Kitchens. I mean kitchens. Now come on.”
“Through here,” Kochanski yelled from up ahead. “The inner airlock is still working; Kryten say's there's breathable air inside.”
Pulling the reluctant Cat away, Lister headed towards her. “All right,” he grumbled, “no need to shout; my radio works just fine, you know.” But Kochanski was already through the airlock with her helmet off, unable to hear him. Lister could see her on the other side of the transparent barrier, motioning impatiently at him. Rolling his eyes, he stepped through.
They'd seen these types of airlocks before, on derelicts, but they'd all been broken. Lister had no idea how they worked, though Kryten had explained it to them every time they'd come across one. Something about nanotech and sonic fields, or was it forcefields? No matter what it was, walking through what looked like a solid wall and emerging in one piece on the other side was more than a little disconcerting. Safely through, Lister shook his whole body, like a dog escaping from an unwanted bath. What he couldn't shake off was the feeling that he'd just been through some sort of futuristic cheese-grater, and that in a minute, his body would notice, and start falling to pieces. Behind him, Cat followed, seemingly unconcerned. Lister envied him sometimes.
“The airlock is working,” Kochanski said, as soon as Lister had taken his helmet off and was able to hear her, “so they must be getting power from somewhere. Hopefully, that'll mean the cryo-freezers are still working too.” From the central room they were in, five transparent doors lead off to long, winding corridors. It was all a bit like the spaceport terminal at Heathrow, only without the graffiti.
Kryten nodded. “And the computer systems. With any luck, there could be information in there that will shed some light on what happened here. Suggesting we split up, and explore each of these corridors in turn.”
“Right.” Cat, never one to remain in a spacesuit when he didn't need to be, had stripped out of it, and folded it neatly into the carrier bag they had each brought to store supplies. Now, he was busy adjusting his hair after its stint inside the helmet. “I'm no expert at mathematechnics, but seems to me there's only four of us, and five of those things.”
“We'll take one each, explore down the end of it, then come back here. Once we're all back, we'll take the last one together. Sound fair?” Lister looked at Kochanski, feeling stupidly relieved when she nodded, agreeing. Why did they have to have this constant, smegging power-struggle? It wasn't like that with Rimmer; not even when he was actively trying to boss Lister around. At least, Lister thought, he wasn't trying to be nice about it. Like Kochanski now, smiling, almost benevolently. Lister felt like a puppy being given a treat for good behavior.
“Good plan, Dave. Shall we?”
Lister's corridor had been disappointingly dull. As he explained to the only marginally interested Cat, it seemed to have been used mainly for maintenance, and contained little else beyond the odd tool cabinet and near-empty storage rooms. From what little Cat said, his corridor had been equally lackluster, filled with break-rooms with snack machines with mummified supplies, a tri-D lounge or two, and a room filled with ancient soda-machines. They had just about exhausted the conversational possibilities these subjects yielded, when Lister heard his suit-radio crackle. Putting on the auxiliary ear-piece, he fumbled with the contact button. “Lister here. What've ye got?” When heard the tension in Kochanski's voice, he grabbed Cat's shoulder, pulling him close to listen.
“Dave... oh my god... I'm in the crew quarters... It's horrible...”
“Kris? What's wrong? What've ye found?”
“It's...” Lister could hear her taking several calm, deep breaths. “I found three bodies.”
“What?” Lister pulled Cat closer, both of them jostling to be closest to the receiver, which Lister was now holding in his hand, so they both could hear.
“Real bodies, I mean. Not million-year old piles of dust, or ancient mummies. These people must have been killed recently. Oh god Dave, it's horrible. One of them is so mutilated I can't even make out where his face was.”
“Damn,” Cat whispered, “that's one hell of a way to go.” Lister shushed him.
“All males,” Kochanski went on, in that eerily calm voice people only get when they are trying to cover for the fact that they are scared shitless. “Human, near as I can tell. Oh, and...” She cleared her throat, “there's a light bee. Looks like hard-light.”
Lister's heart jumped into his throat. “Is it still working?”
“No... it's been shattered. Almost like someone stepped on it. One of the dead men was holding it in his hand. Dave?” Her voice was shaking now.
“Yeah?”
“I'm going to get out of here, OK?”
Hard light, Lister thought. It wasn't just Rimmer who had been a hard light hologram; Kochanski's Dave had been one too. “Get out of there,” he told her, firmly. “Come back here, and we'll figure this thing out, OK? I'm sure it's not...” The radio crackled again.
“Mister Lister, sir?” Kryten's voice had that same eerie calm. Lister was beginning to feel light-headed.
“What is it, Krytes?”
“I...”
“Did you find something?”
The calm broke, and the mechanoid's voice turned into a high-pitched near-whisper. “Yes.”
“OK. All right. Just calm down, Kryten, all right?”
“But sir...”
Lister could feel Cat shivering beside him. Or was that himself? “Just tell me. Is it a body?”
There was a long stretch of silence before the halting reply finally came. “Yes!”
All right; enough already. A human body, even to a mechanoid, shouldn't be that distressing. “Look, it's hardly the first time you've seen a dead body, Krytes. So why...”
“Sir, you'd don't understand!”
“Understand what?” Lister yelled, exasperated.
“It's Camille!”
Rating: PG-13, for implied gore.
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied)
Spoilers: Post-series VIII, so everything. ;)
Beta:
smaychDisclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned Red Dwarf. Nor do I make any money from this fannish venture.
Notes: I meant for this to go out during Easter, the traditional season of murder mysteries in Norway, (no, really) but as often happens with these things, it got delayed. Thanks to the always amazing
roadstergal for contributing one of Kryten's lines. As always, concrit is thoroughly welcome! All was quiet on what could charitably be called 'the bridge' of Blue Midget, and Lister, truth be told, was feeling rather charitable. Beside him, Cat snoozed quietly, either convinced that Lister would not notice, or utterly not caring if anyone knew. Probably the latter. It was all good with Lister, who, after having a quick look around to make sure the coast was entirely clear, sneaked a hand into the back pocket of his trousers, and pulled out a crumpled, glossy sheet of paper.
“Theeere we are!” Rubbing his hands together, Lister carefully unfolded the sheet, turning it around a few times to determine the right way up. This done, he settled back in his chair, put both booted feet firmly up on the console, and...
“What's that you're reading, Dave?”
An adolescence filled with curious aunts and nosy nans had provided Lister with excellent reflexes. When the first, unmistakably female syllable escaped Kochanski's lips, the glossy sheet was already back in Lister's pocket. “Wha? Oh... nothing. Just having a look at the manifest.” He pulled an entirely different sheet, creased and blotchy with ink, out of his front pocket. “We're running low on food; might consider checking out that science station we picked up on the scanners earlier.”
Kochanski took the paper from his hands, frowning. “That's where we're headed now; you'd think you would know that, being at the helm. Why is the cargo manifest written on a chocolate wrapper?”
“We're not exactly awash in JMC letterhead stationery, are we?” Lister snatched the paper back. “So, good then. That's settled. We're going to the station.”
“Of course we are; that was settled yesterday morning during the first-shift briefing.” Kochanski pushed against the back of his chair, craning her head over the side. Lister could smell what had to be that scented soap they'd found that only she had wanted, and if he leaned just a little to one side, he could feel the edge of one of her breasts... “Are you paying attention?” Kochanski's face hovered over Lister's, like an bad moon. Her long hair brushed against his nose, making him fight the urge to blow it away with a well-placed puff.
“Of course I am.”
“You know,” she caught a hold of Lister's chair and whirled it around, leaving his head spinning, “I don't think you ever do!”
“Oi!” Lister jammed his feet firmly on either side of the chair's legs, to keep her from doing it again.
“Do you have any idea what the destination we all agreed and voted to go to is? Do you remember what I hypothesized they might be doing there? How long it will take us to get there?” Before Lister had a chance to reply, Kochanski hurried on. “No, you don't, because you were reading AR manuals all through the meeting! And don't bother denying it,” she added, when Lister opened his mouth, “I saw that lurid pink cover peeking up from behind yesterday's meeting minutes. I mean; why? What's the point – the tiny AR machine we've got is broken, anyway. What are you going to do; imagine you're in a sim?”
Lister brushed her hand off the armrest. “We didn't used to have meeting minutes, you know. We didn't use to have meetings at all.” Except when Rimmer got the urge, and herded them all into the mid-section to drone on about his latest pet peeve, but there was no reason to tell Kochanski that. If Lister told her he'd endured meetings for Rimmer, but not for her, he'd be in more trouble than he apparently was already.
“Well, then it's high time you started, isn't it?”
Swinging the chair away from her, Lister shrugged. “It's nothing personal, or anything. It's just we never used to have such a rigid 'command structure'.” He made little quotes with his fingers in the air.
“And there was no need, was there, on Starbug?” Unable to move the chair with Lister's feet still firmly in place, Kochanski forced herself into Lister's field of vision instead. “But this ship...” She reached to knock on the ceiling with a fisted hand, “is tiny. They named it Blue Midget for a reason. If we're going to survive at all without any of us getting cabin fever and slaughtering the others in their sleep, we're going to have to get a little more organized.”
“Well that's never going to happen, is it? What with just the one bed and us having to sleep in shifts,” Lister snarked, regretting it instantly, when Kochanski seemed to gain steam.
“Precisely my point! There's only barely room for one person to live in this here, much less three people and a mechanoid.”
“Kryten is a person.”
“You know what I mean; he doesn't need food or sleep. He's not bothered by cramped quarters.”
Oh really, Lister thought, remembering their time in quarantine. It seemed eons ago, now. “Yeah? You ought to try calling him 'tetchy' sometime.”
“What?”
“Never mind. I promise I'll do my best to...” Lister searched for the sort of words Kochanski would want him using, “stay more focused on the task at hand. All right?”
Looking a little puzzled, Kochanski nodded. “Right. OK. That's all I'm asking you to do.”
Hoping the conversation was over, Lister pretended to concentrate on the dials in front of him. As he had no idea what most of them were showing, this was no mean feat.
“Right.” Kochanski jerked a thumb in the Cat's direction. “And wake him up, would you?” When the click-clack of her heels sounded away into the distance, Lister breathed a sigh of relief.
“She's got your nuts in the cracker, bud.”
Lister turned, sharply. “Oh right; and what's it to you, eh?”
Preening and stretching, Cat threw a lazy glance in Lister's direction. “Nothing. Just glad it's not me.”
“She doesn't have my anythings anywhere, all right? I'm just trying to get along. And come to that, she is my superior officer.”
Cat snorted. “Yeah, and you cared so much about rank when fridge-magnet head was around.”
“That was different. You know what Rimmer was like.”
Shuddering, Cat shifted into a more comfortable position. “Believe me; I'm trying my best to forget.”
Not a bad idea, Lister thought. No use dwelling on the past, was there? Not when there was no chance of it ever coming back. That was what the past was like, when you got down to it. “Yeah, well,” he said, leaning over and shifting his weight onto one butt-cheek, allowing him to sneak a hand back into his back pocket, “check this out.” Lister pulled out the glossy sheet again, waving it triumphantly. Here, at least, was one thing the universe had not managed to wrest away from him.
Cat's eyes lit up, and his nostrils did that odd little dance they did when fully alert. “Woah,” he breathed. “What is it?” Eager, he made a grab for the sheet, but Lister, prepared for this, pulled it back with a grin.
“Oh, no you don't! This,” Lister shook the page, “is the centerfold for Bikes & Babes magazine leather bikini issue. The stuff of legends, man! I've kept it with me ever since we lost Red Dwarf. The first time,” he added, when Cat didn't seem suitably impressed by this. “It's been to hell and back, this. I rescued it from Starbug's wreckage, kept it under the mattress in my cell. I almost lost it when they took my clothes.”
Cat curled his lip in distaste. “You always keep it in your back pocket?”
Lister nodded. “Yeah. I like keeping it on me, so I know where it is. It's been a job and a half, keeping it out of harm's way with Kryten dragging my clothes off to the wash the moment I take 'em off. I swear, one day he won't bother waiting, and I'll be in the spin cycle along with them, centerfold and all.”
The sudden, chirpy mechanoid voice took them both by surprise. “Good evening, sirs! I believe it's time for changeover. You'll find dinner is ready in the kitchenette. I've done my best with what we have, but I'm afraid...” Kryten blinked, leaning closer to the centerfold. “Oh, my!”
Lister grinned. “It's something, ain't it?”
"Oh, indeed, sir! Excellent eye. The BMW R1560R integrated two hot little processors into that CANdoBUS engine control system - just the thought of those sexy little pieces controlling those massive heads makes me..." Lister shared a worried glance with Cat as Kryten began to practically gibber. "Ahem - sorry, sir, that's what the sight of a fine paralever system does to me." He nudged the, by now, highly disturbed Lister, and gave a wink. "I used to fantasize about the CANdoBUS processors interfacing with the ABS control module in a highly naughty fashion."
Not knowing what to say, Lister made a polite grimace, and turned to Cat for support, but the feline had fallen asleep again, snuggled up impossibly small in the tiny seat.
Lister still couldn't remember what Kochanski had said about it, but the station certainly looked impressive from the air. Built on a small planetoid, the research station – complex, rather – took up most of the surface area that wasn't mountains. As Blue Midget leaped and bounced its way to a landing, the sheer size of the place impressed itself on all of them, and the ship's cramped cockpit was unusually quiet as they hopped to a halt.
Cat craned his neck, as if that would help him see the tops of the enormous buildings. “What is this place?”
“It's a research station,” Kochanski explained, with the air of a parent carefully explaining what the family's holiday destination was for the fiftieth time on the plane over. Oh wonderful, Lister thought; with him, she was patient. “Built by a company called OmniThrust.” She pointed to the outline of a what looked like a boomerang, or a stylized wing, surrounded by lines indicating speed. “That's their logo, there.” She frowned. “Except it's the wrong way round from what I remember.”
Kryten shrugged; always a challenge, with mechanoid shoulders. “This is a mirror universe, after all.”
“Back in my dimension, they did research on hyperspace drives. I've no idea what they'd be doing here though.”
“But ma'am,” Kryten protested, “there's no such thing as hyperspace. That theory was rejected even before I was created.”
Kochanski gave a quick smile. “Well, I was born long before you were created, Kryten. This was built much later though, obviously. Whatever they're doing, they're clearly well-funded; this is three times larger than the Genentech III biotech complex, and that covered an entire asteroid, forced into orbit around Saturn.”
“Maybe hyperspace exists in this dimension?” Lister suggested.
“Highly unlikely, sir, though I suppose not impossible. Which begs the question, did they find a way to reach it?” Kryten and Kochanski exchanged glances. To Lister's eye – and hadn't Kryten said he had a good one? - they looked rather worried.
The mood was getting rather too gloomy for Lister's tastes. “Hey now; you both said it was totally safe, right? No life signs; the scouters reported no radiation, no suit-invading toxins, no nothing. And there's even a working atmosphere inside still, yeah?”
More worried glances. Finally, after what seemed like an argument conducted entirely with raised eyebrows – or in Kryten's case, eyebrow ridges – Kochanski cleared her throat. “Yes, well. But Dave, what we have to consider... there has to be a reason why this station was abandoned. They would have dismantled it if they left peacefully. Far too wasteful to leave all this steel and plasticrete just lying around.”
“So?”
“So, if they found a way to reach hyperspace; if they created some sort of portal, someone or something could have reached them.”
It was a little like going into a shopping center after closing time. Large areas of see-through plastic and open spaces, clearly meant to be well lit, now loomed above them sullenly in the darkness. Kryten was taking point, on his own insistence, Kochanski close behind. Lister's job, as usual, was to keep the Cat from becoming too distracted by his surroundings, and loosing track of the others. Right now, he was batting at a series of decorative silver strips hanging from the ceiling.
“Come on, man,” Lister pulled on his arm, “we don't have time for this.”
Cat ignored him, cheerfully. “I could find a million uses for these. And that's just in terms of accessories. As-is, I bet you could roast chickens in them.”
“Yeah, if we had any chicken, which we don't, which is why we need to find the chickens.” Cat frowned at him, and Lister shook his head. “Kitchens. I mean kitchens. Now come on.”
“Through here,” Kochanski yelled from up ahead. “The inner airlock is still working; Kryten say's there's breathable air inside.”
Pulling the reluctant Cat away, Lister headed towards her. “All right,” he grumbled, “no need to shout; my radio works just fine, you know.” But Kochanski was already through the airlock with her helmet off, unable to hear him. Lister could see her on the other side of the transparent barrier, motioning impatiently at him. Rolling his eyes, he stepped through.
They'd seen these types of airlocks before, on derelicts, but they'd all been broken. Lister had no idea how they worked, though Kryten had explained it to them every time they'd come across one. Something about nanotech and sonic fields, or was it forcefields? No matter what it was, walking through what looked like a solid wall and emerging in one piece on the other side was more than a little disconcerting. Safely through, Lister shook his whole body, like a dog escaping from an unwanted bath. What he couldn't shake off was the feeling that he'd just been through some sort of futuristic cheese-grater, and that in a minute, his body would notice, and start falling to pieces. Behind him, Cat followed, seemingly unconcerned. Lister envied him sometimes.
“The airlock is working,” Kochanski said, as soon as Lister had taken his helmet off and was able to hear her, “so they must be getting power from somewhere. Hopefully, that'll mean the cryo-freezers are still working too.” From the central room they were in, five transparent doors lead off to long, winding corridors. It was all a bit like the spaceport terminal at Heathrow, only without the graffiti.
Kryten nodded. “And the computer systems. With any luck, there could be information in there that will shed some light on what happened here. Suggesting we split up, and explore each of these corridors in turn.”
“Right.” Cat, never one to remain in a spacesuit when he didn't need to be, had stripped out of it, and folded it neatly into the carrier bag they had each brought to store supplies. Now, he was busy adjusting his hair after its stint inside the helmet. “I'm no expert at mathematechnics, but seems to me there's only four of us, and five of those things.”
“We'll take one each, explore down the end of it, then come back here. Once we're all back, we'll take the last one together. Sound fair?” Lister looked at Kochanski, feeling stupidly relieved when she nodded, agreeing. Why did they have to have this constant, smegging power-struggle? It wasn't like that with Rimmer; not even when he was actively trying to boss Lister around. At least, Lister thought, he wasn't trying to be nice about it. Like Kochanski now, smiling, almost benevolently. Lister felt like a puppy being given a treat for good behavior.
“Good plan, Dave. Shall we?”
Lister's corridor had been disappointingly dull. As he explained to the only marginally interested Cat, it seemed to have been used mainly for maintenance, and contained little else beyond the odd tool cabinet and near-empty storage rooms. From what little Cat said, his corridor had been equally lackluster, filled with break-rooms with snack machines with mummified supplies, a tri-D lounge or two, and a room filled with ancient soda-machines. They had just about exhausted the conversational possibilities these subjects yielded, when Lister heard his suit-radio crackle. Putting on the auxiliary ear-piece, he fumbled with the contact button. “Lister here. What've ye got?” When heard the tension in Kochanski's voice, he grabbed Cat's shoulder, pulling him close to listen.
“Dave... oh my god... I'm in the crew quarters... It's horrible...”
“Kris? What's wrong? What've ye found?”
“It's...” Lister could hear her taking several calm, deep breaths. “I found three bodies.”
“What?” Lister pulled Cat closer, both of them jostling to be closest to the receiver, which Lister was now holding in his hand, so they both could hear.
“Real bodies, I mean. Not million-year old piles of dust, or ancient mummies. These people must have been killed recently. Oh god Dave, it's horrible. One of them is so mutilated I can't even make out where his face was.”
“Damn,” Cat whispered, “that's one hell of a way to go.” Lister shushed him.
“All males,” Kochanski went on, in that eerily calm voice people only get when they are trying to cover for the fact that they are scared shitless. “Human, near as I can tell. Oh, and...” She cleared her throat, “there's a light bee. Looks like hard-light.”
Lister's heart jumped into his throat. “Is it still working?”
“No... it's been shattered. Almost like someone stepped on it. One of the dead men was holding it in his hand. Dave?” Her voice was shaking now.
“Yeah?”
“I'm going to get out of here, OK?”
Hard light, Lister thought. It wasn't just Rimmer who had been a hard light hologram; Kochanski's Dave had been one too. “Get out of there,” he told her, firmly. “Come back here, and we'll figure this thing out, OK? I'm sure it's not...” The radio crackled again.
“Mister Lister, sir?” Kryten's voice had that same eerie calm. Lister was beginning to feel light-headed.
“What is it, Krytes?”
“I...”
“Did you find something?”
The calm broke, and the mechanoid's voice turned into a high-pitched near-whisper. “Yes.”
“OK. All right. Just calm down, Kryten, all right?”
“But sir...”
Lister could feel Cat shivering beside him. Or was that himself? “Just tell me. Is it a body?”
There was a long stretch of silence before the halting reply finally came. “Yes!”
All right; enough already. A human body, even to a mechanoid, shouldn't be that distressing. “Look, it's hardly the first time you've seen a dead body, Krytes. So why...”
“Sir, you'd don't understand!”
“Understand what?” Lister yelled, exasperated.
“It's Camille!”
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Date: 2008-03-30 10:52 pm (UTC)This is going to be exciting!
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Date: 2008-04-01 12:36 am (UTC)I hope so! The next installment is at beta as I write this. I'm glad you're enjoying - thanks for the feedback!
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Date: 2008-04-03 05:43 am (UTC)You ought to try calling him 'tetchy' sometime.” Hee!
I'm really looking forward to the next bit. :)
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Date: 2008-04-05 10:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-05-21 12:16 pm (UTC)That gave me the shivers! Very well written. :P
Oooooooooooh
Date: 2008-10-07 04:16 am (UTC)I've got my own theories as to what is going on here, and I wanna see if I'm right!
I shall cheerlead the next installment from the sidelines. :)
Re: Oooooooooooh
Date: 2008-10-07 01:47 pm (UTC)Re: Oooooooooooh
Date: 2008-10-07 06:46 pm (UTC)I understand all about prior commitments--I'm supposed to be studying for a calculus exam instead of reading fan fiction, but there you go. ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-25 10:15 am (UTC)