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reddwarfslashTitle: Dear John
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied), other
Rating: PG, for this part
Disclaimer: I don't even own the fictional series IX and X of Red Dwarf. I make no money from this fannish venture.
Notes: This is part 1/?. Dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
smaych, who is both an Arnold and a John. <3
It was one of those truly tacky photographs made up to look two-dimensional and flat despite being taken with a digital tri-D camera and printed out. Just after Polariods had come back into fashion when it was discovered how practical they were on long space flights, only the very disgustingly rich could afford them. The cameras and film had gone out of production, and until it could be resumed on a larger scale, the few remaining copies were suddenly more valuable than diamonds. But if you didn't have a lot of money, and merely wanted it to appear that you had, you'd go for one of these jobs; extensively doctored, presumably overpriced, and printed on poor quality paper. In its defense, it had endured three million years and change in Rimmer's locker.
Lister changed his grip on it, afraid it would crumble if he held it any harder. "So that's you, then?"
"Of course not," Rimmer snapped, "that's my brother Howard. He doesn't look anything like me; I don't see how you'd mistake the two of us."
Lister stared at the photograph. A young, terrified face with murky-green eyes under questioning brows peered out at him. The boy's nostrils seemed to quiver, perhaps an effect from the shoddy 2D conversion. "It's not?"
"No, of course it's not! That's me, over there, by the tree."
Following Rimmer's pointing finger, Lister narrowed his eyes. "What; holding the end of that rope?"
"No," that's Frank. Honestly; you must need reading glasses."
Lister wanted to ask what the rope was for, but knowing Rimmer's family, he thought better of it. "There's no one else there though! Apart from that guy in the corner." A third boy, taller than the others, stared blankly at the camera from the opposite side of the photograph. The face was the same, but the eyes were different; older, duller. Lister didn't know if that was more or less disturbing.
"Of course there is!" Rimmer snatched the picture away, then held it up against Lister's face, so close that he could barely make the figures out anymore. "There."
"Where?"
"What do you mean 'where'; right there! Behind the tree!"
"Behind the tree?"
"Yes; are you even listening? There; you can see my left foot."
"Rimmer," Lister began, already dreading the answer, "why are you standing behind a tree in your family photo?"
Rimmer shifted a little, carefully putting the photograph back in its protective sleeve. "Well, we were all in our winter uniforms. House colors. You know. Mummy didn't want me ruining the composition of the picture."
"Eh?" Lister took a step back. He vaguely knew what ‘winter uniforms’ were, but his schools idea of them had been long sleeved jumpers instead of t-shirts with the regulation trousers.
"I was Io House, of course. Would have messed the entire thing up. I don't blame her; that picture cost a fortune. They took money out of my allowance so I could get a copy."
Having no idea what to say to that, Lister pointed, instead, to the boy in the corner. "So who's that, then?"
Rimmer paused for a moment, frowning. "Oh," he said, putting the photograph back in his locker and locking the door, "that's just John."
Starbug had been running on fumes for days, and a restocking was long overdue. Unfortunately, the region they were flying through seemed to be as deserted as... well... most of space. It was beginning to worry Lister. He'd been assuming Red Dwarf was still headed towards Earth, so that by following its vapour trail, they'd still be on route. But if they were really getting closer to Earth, they should be seeing more evidence of human habitation, not less of it, right? There were a few answers to that question, and Lister wasn't sure he liked any of them.
Kryten was trying to keep everyone's spirits up and Rimmer was doing his best to knock them down, and between them, Lister was starting to feel like he was on a looped roller coaster. Pulling double shifts was an easy way to avoid contact with either of them, despite Kryten's protests that he wasn't getting enough sleep. With nothing else to entertain him, all Lister did between shifts was eat and sleep, anyway. Sometimes he'd even sleep on shift. Not like there was anything to see, right?
He woke, abruptly, when Rimmer shook his arm almost to the point of dislocation.
"...smegging idiot! Get this thing in reverse, or we'll miss the orbit!"
The alarm had 'sounded', if that was the word; the siren had given out months ago. What remained was a solitary flashing bulb, currently a sickly orange. It was not, on the whole, ideal waking-up conditions. "What've we found?"
"The question you should be asking, Listy, is what have I found. Only those conscious at the time of discovery need apply."
"All right; just point me in the right direction, yeah?"
"30 degrees Starboard, hard."
In the navigator's chair, Cat was curled up, waving his hands at imaginary enemies. Lister jerked a thumb at him. "Why're'ye not harassing him? He's hardly moved since his shift started!"
"Which is more than I expect from him. Now turn this crate around, or I'll get Kryten in to give you encouraging advice."
Lister nodded, turning the wheel somewhat distractedly. Had Rimmer just given him a sort of compliment?
It was not the first hidden science and research station they'd come across, but it was by far the largest. The fact that they had almost managed to miss it entirely was to the credit of its builders. The entire complex was encased within an asteroid that had been forced into orbit around one of the larger planets in this barren system. A superficial scan revealed nothing out of the ordinary; only Rimmer's insistence on launching scouters to search any and all objects they encountered had given any indication of artificial construction anywhere on it. This fact had made Lister wince; they would never hear the end of that. One of the scouters, the smaller, older model that Lister had taken to calling Arnold Jr. because of the way it made Rimmer's face twitch, had come across the entrance and docking bay almost by accident.
Flying in was a nerve-wrecking affair; up until the very last moment, it appeared as though they were about to crash into solid rock, until the surface shifted slightly, slowly opening up to admit them in. Whatever this place was, Lister thought, ignoring Rimmer's angry shouts of backseat piloting, it was important to someone.
By some miracle, the internal wireless network sprang to life once they got the power going, and Kryten happily connected to it, chatting idly with the various subsystems and departmental computers as they traversed the dusty corridors. The size of the place, he quickly informed them, was due to the fact that it incorporated not only laboratories and living quarters, but also recreational facilities for the staff; everything from food courts to AR-parlors and even a small nightclub. Relishing the idea of replenishing their alcohol and game supplies, Lister gave little thought to their current surroundings; one of the laboratories which lay between the recreational and living areas. Rimmer, however, seemed on edge.
"Would someone put that kitten on a leash?" He pointed a shaking finger at the Cat, who was staring transfixedly at a display of brightly colored bottles. "There's no telling what could be in those tubes!"
"According to the labels, sir, it's decorative colored water."
"Oh, labels, schmables; water's just another chemical! After all these years, who knows what it may have turned into!"
Kryten coughed politely, leaning against one of the larger looking machines. "Sir, if I may; this is not one of those facilities."
Lister knew what he meant. There were a few empty beakers and bits of machinery about, but nothing sinister-looking. You got the feeling for it, after a few years of running into mutated monsters.
"From what I'm being told, the research conducted here was mainly in physics. There's a small cloning facility, a couple of biology labs for incidental research, but that it."
Lister frowned. "Isn't cloning illegal?"
"Human cloning, yes. Not cloning of research animals."
"Human cloning was legal on Io," Rimmer supplied, still watching Cat with a raised eyebrow.
"Why am I not surprised? Lighten up, Rimmer." Lister poked a glass fronted cabinet with his foot. "Anyway, it's dogs ye put on a leash."
"I'm nothing but light," Rimmer mumbled, but moved on, to the sound of Cat making an impromptu 'butt' joke behind him.
Eventually, the laboratories petered out, giving way to more office-like spaces. On Kryten's suggestion, the four of them split up, looking for the communal cryogenic freezer and staff medicine cabinet that was supposed to be somewhere in the area. Feeling a little lost and bored, eager to get through this so they could go to what were clearly the more interesting areas of the station, Lister poked his head half-heartedly into a few of the offices, raffling through nearly-disintegrating paper and, in one instance, chuckling at the rude graffiti someone had carved into the side of a desk.
The offices were all identical. Having seen two, Lister felt like he'd seen a dozen, and having seen a dozen, he wished he'd never seen any. Each had a desk, an uplink to the network and a keyboard for interfacing with it, a wall-screen that doubled as a mirror with a couple of tape slots underneath. Even the wastepaper baskets were in exactly the same place. Lister kicked one of them over, scowling at the thing.
“No luck then I take it, sir?” Kryten hovered politely in the doorway.
“Not really, no. You?”
“Unfortunately, no. I did find some research papers and some rather informative video diaries concerning some of the projects undertaken here.”
“Yeah?” Lister couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm, but it had to be less boring than what he’d been stuck with. “What sort of things did they get up to, then?”
“You’ll find this interesting; they had actually developed a prototype hard light drive.”
“No kidding!” Lister slumped down into the surprisingly comfortable office chair, and threw his feet up on the desk. “Maybe we could pick up a spare for Rimmer?”
Kryten shook his head. “I wouldn’t advice that, sir. They never really made it past the trial stages. Even the last prototype documented was highly unstable; inevitably short-circuiting and causing irreparable damage to the simulated personality encased within.”
“You say that like it’s a bad…” The loud hissing of a discontented Cat cut Lister short. Exchanging a glance, he and Kryten scrambled out of the little cubicle, rushing towards the sound. They didn’t have to go far. Just around the corner, Cat was pressed up against the corridor wall, making eyes at the open office door in front of him. Lister sidled up to him, carefully.
“Hey man, what’s the trouble?”
Cat scowled at him, eyes narrow, ears doing that creepy thing where they nearly closed in on themselves. He usually only did that during Lister’s guitar practice sessions. “I’m not going back in there! Gave me the fright of my life.” He shuddered, while simultaneously trying to compose himself. He settled, eventually, on carefully licking a cuff link clean.
What the smeg, Lister thought, just as Rimmer rounded the corner.
“What’s going on here? I heard fish-breath yelping like Lister had gotten his guitar out.” For a moment, Rimmer looked panicked. “My god; you didn’t bring it here, did you?”
“Sirs…” Kryten had entered the office, his massive metal back blocking Lister’s view. “You may want to see this.”
There was no sound, but the screen had been set to play back a video tape; probably one of those project diaries Kryten had mentioned. Standing uncomfortably close to Rimmer in the little office space, Lister stared at the face before them. A middle aged man in that indefinable space between 40 and 50 spoke soundlessly at them with an affable, apologetic smile. His iron grey hair was very closely cropped, just barely showing signs of receding. His eyes were warm and friendly; their color, like his age, impossible to pin down, though brown and green made obvious contributions. He was holding an unrecognizable piece of machinery and gesticulating eagerly.
Lister stared.
Rimmer stared. “Great space,” he mumbled, “that’s me.”
“No,” Lister said, pointing to name tag on the man’s shirt, “that’s your brother, John.”
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied), other
Rating: PG, for this part
Disclaimer: I don't even own the fictional series IX and X of Red Dwarf. I make no money from this fannish venture.
Notes: This is part 1/?. Dedicated to
smaych, who is both an Arnold and a John. <3It was one of those truly tacky photographs made up to look two-dimensional and flat despite being taken with a digital tri-D camera and printed out. Just after Polariods had come back into fashion when it was discovered how practical they were on long space flights, only the very disgustingly rich could afford them. The cameras and film had gone out of production, and until it could be resumed on a larger scale, the few remaining copies were suddenly more valuable than diamonds. But if you didn't have a lot of money, and merely wanted it to appear that you had, you'd go for one of these jobs; extensively doctored, presumably overpriced, and printed on poor quality paper. In its defense, it had endured three million years and change in Rimmer's locker.
Lister changed his grip on it, afraid it would crumble if he held it any harder. "So that's you, then?"
"Of course not," Rimmer snapped, "that's my brother Howard. He doesn't look anything like me; I don't see how you'd mistake the two of us."
Lister stared at the photograph. A young, terrified face with murky-green eyes under questioning brows peered out at him. The boy's nostrils seemed to quiver, perhaps an effect from the shoddy 2D conversion. "It's not?"
"No, of course it's not! That's me, over there, by the tree."
Following Rimmer's pointing finger, Lister narrowed his eyes. "What; holding the end of that rope?"
"No," that's Frank. Honestly; you must need reading glasses."
Lister wanted to ask what the rope was for, but knowing Rimmer's family, he thought better of it. "There's no one else there though! Apart from that guy in the corner." A third boy, taller than the others, stared blankly at the camera from the opposite side of the photograph. The face was the same, but the eyes were different; older, duller. Lister didn't know if that was more or less disturbing.
"Of course there is!" Rimmer snatched the picture away, then held it up against Lister's face, so close that he could barely make the figures out anymore. "There."
"Where?"
"What do you mean 'where'; right there! Behind the tree!"
"Behind the tree?"
"Yes; are you even listening? There; you can see my left foot."
"Rimmer," Lister began, already dreading the answer, "why are you standing behind a tree in your family photo?"
Rimmer shifted a little, carefully putting the photograph back in its protective sleeve. "Well, we were all in our winter uniforms. House colors. You know. Mummy didn't want me ruining the composition of the picture."
"Eh?" Lister took a step back. He vaguely knew what ‘winter uniforms’ were, but his schools idea of them had been long sleeved jumpers instead of t-shirts with the regulation trousers.
"I was Io House, of course. Would have messed the entire thing up. I don't blame her; that picture cost a fortune. They took money out of my allowance so I could get a copy."
Having no idea what to say to that, Lister pointed, instead, to the boy in the corner. "So who's that, then?"
Rimmer paused for a moment, frowning. "Oh," he said, putting the photograph back in his locker and locking the door, "that's just John."
Starbug had been running on fumes for days, and a restocking was long overdue. Unfortunately, the region they were flying through seemed to be as deserted as... well... most of space. It was beginning to worry Lister. He'd been assuming Red Dwarf was still headed towards Earth, so that by following its vapour trail, they'd still be on route. But if they were really getting closer to Earth, they should be seeing more evidence of human habitation, not less of it, right? There were a few answers to that question, and Lister wasn't sure he liked any of them.
Kryten was trying to keep everyone's spirits up and Rimmer was doing his best to knock them down, and between them, Lister was starting to feel like he was on a looped roller coaster. Pulling double shifts was an easy way to avoid contact with either of them, despite Kryten's protests that he wasn't getting enough sleep. With nothing else to entertain him, all Lister did between shifts was eat and sleep, anyway. Sometimes he'd even sleep on shift. Not like there was anything to see, right?
He woke, abruptly, when Rimmer shook his arm almost to the point of dislocation.
"...smegging idiot! Get this thing in reverse, or we'll miss the orbit!"
The alarm had 'sounded', if that was the word; the siren had given out months ago. What remained was a solitary flashing bulb, currently a sickly orange. It was not, on the whole, ideal waking-up conditions. "What've we found?"
"The question you should be asking, Listy, is what have I found. Only those conscious at the time of discovery need apply."
"All right; just point me in the right direction, yeah?"
"30 degrees Starboard, hard."
In the navigator's chair, Cat was curled up, waving his hands at imaginary enemies. Lister jerked a thumb at him. "Why're'ye not harassing him? He's hardly moved since his shift started!"
"Which is more than I expect from him. Now turn this crate around, or I'll get Kryten in to give you encouraging advice."
Lister nodded, turning the wheel somewhat distractedly. Had Rimmer just given him a sort of compliment?
It was not the first hidden science and research station they'd come across, but it was by far the largest. The fact that they had almost managed to miss it entirely was to the credit of its builders. The entire complex was encased within an asteroid that had been forced into orbit around one of the larger planets in this barren system. A superficial scan revealed nothing out of the ordinary; only Rimmer's insistence on launching scouters to search any and all objects they encountered had given any indication of artificial construction anywhere on it. This fact had made Lister wince; they would never hear the end of that. One of the scouters, the smaller, older model that Lister had taken to calling Arnold Jr. because of the way it made Rimmer's face twitch, had come across the entrance and docking bay almost by accident.
Flying in was a nerve-wrecking affair; up until the very last moment, it appeared as though they were about to crash into solid rock, until the surface shifted slightly, slowly opening up to admit them in. Whatever this place was, Lister thought, ignoring Rimmer's angry shouts of backseat piloting, it was important to someone.
By some miracle, the internal wireless network sprang to life once they got the power going, and Kryten happily connected to it, chatting idly with the various subsystems and departmental computers as they traversed the dusty corridors. The size of the place, he quickly informed them, was due to the fact that it incorporated not only laboratories and living quarters, but also recreational facilities for the staff; everything from food courts to AR-parlors and even a small nightclub. Relishing the idea of replenishing their alcohol and game supplies, Lister gave little thought to their current surroundings; one of the laboratories which lay between the recreational and living areas. Rimmer, however, seemed on edge.
"Would someone put that kitten on a leash?" He pointed a shaking finger at the Cat, who was staring transfixedly at a display of brightly colored bottles. "There's no telling what could be in those tubes!"
"According to the labels, sir, it's decorative colored water."
"Oh, labels, schmables; water's just another chemical! After all these years, who knows what it may have turned into!"
Kryten coughed politely, leaning against one of the larger looking machines. "Sir, if I may; this is not one of those facilities."
Lister knew what he meant. There were a few empty beakers and bits of machinery about, but nothing sinister-looking. You got the feeling for it, after a few years of running into mutated monsters.
"From what I'm being told, the research conducted here was mainly in physics. There's a small cloning facility, a couple of biology labs for incidental research, but that it."
Lister frowned. "Isn't cloning illegal?"
"Human cloning, yes. Not cloning of research animals."
"Human cloning was legal on Io," Rimmer supplied, still watching Cat with a raised eyebrow.
"Why am I not surprised? Lighten up, Rimmer." Lister poked a glass fronted cabinet with his foot. "Anyway, it's dogs ye put on a leash."
"I'm nothing but light," Rimmer mumbled, but moved on, to the sound of Cat making an impromptu 'butt' joke behind him.
Eventually, the laboratories petered out, giving way to more office-like spaces. On Kryten's suggestion, the four of them split up, looking for the communal cryogenic freezer and staff medicine cabinet that was supposed to be somewhere in the area. Feeling a little lost and bored, eager to get through this so they could go to what were clearly the more interesting areas of the station, Lister poked his head half-heartedly into a few of the offices, raffling through nearly-disintegrating paper and, in one instance, chuckling at the rude graffiti someone had carved into the side of a desk.
The offices were all identical. Having seen two, Lister felt like he'd seen a dozen, and having seen a dozen, he wished he'd never seen any. Each had a desk, an uplink to the network and a keyboard for interfacing with it, a wall-screen that doubled as a mirror with a couple of tape slots underneath. Even the wastepaper baskets were in exactly the same place. Lister kicked one of them over, scowling at the thing.
“No luck then I take it, sir?” Kryten hovered politely in the doorway.
“Not really, no. You?”
“Unfortunately, no. I did find some research papers and some rather informative video diaries concerning some of the projects undertaken here.”
“Yeah?” Lister couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm, but it had to be less boring than what he’d been stuck with. “What sort of things did they get up to, then?”
“You’ll find this interesting; they had actually developed a prototype hard light drive.”
“No kidding!” Lister slumped down into the surprisingly comfortable office chair, and threw his feet up on the desk. “Maybe we could pick up a spare for Rimmer?”
Kryten shook his head. “I wouldn’t advice that, sir. They never really made it past the trial stages. Even the last prototype documented was highly unstable; inevitably short-circuiting and causing irreparable damage to the simulated personality encased within.”
“You say that like it’s a bad…” The loud hissing of a discontented Cat cut Lister short. Exchanging a glance, he and Kryten scrambled out of the little cubicle, rushing towards the sound. They didn’t have to go far. Just around the corner, Cat was pressed up against the corridor wall, making eyes at the open office door in front of him. Lister sidled up to him, carefully.
“Hey man, what’s the trouble?”
Cat scowled at him, eyes narrow, ears doing that creepy thing where they nearly closed in on themselves. He usually only did that during Lister’s guitar practice sessions. “I’m not going back in there! Gave me the fright of my life.” He shuddered, while simultaneously trying to compose himself. He settled, eventually, on carefully licking a cuff link clean.
What the smeg, Lister thought, just as Rimmer rounded the corner.
“What’s going on here? I heard fish-breath yelping like Lister had gotten his guitar out.” For a moment, Rimmer looked panicked. “My god; you didn’t bring it here, did you?”
“Sirs…” Kryten had entered the office, his massive metal back blocking Lister’s view. “You may want to see this.”
There was no sound, but the screen had been set to play back a video tape; probably one of those project diaries Kryten had mentioned. Standing uncomfortably close to Rimmer in the little office space, Lister stared at the face before them. A middle aged man in that indefinable space between 40 and 50 spoke soundlessly at them with an affable, apologetic smile. His iron grey hair was very closely cropped, just barely showing signs of receding. His eyes were warm and friendly; their color, like his age, impossible to pin down, though brown and green made obvious contributions. He was holding an unrecognizable piece of machinery and gesticulating eagerly.
Lister stared.
Rimmer stared. “Great space,” he mumbled, “that’s me.”
“No,” Lister said, pointing to name tag on the man’s shirt, “that’s your brother, John.”
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-24 05:14 pm (UTC)"They took money out of my allowance so I could get a copy." - Well, of COURSE. Little freeloading minors.
Looking forward to more .....
no subject
Date: 2010-06-25 12:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-24 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-25 12:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-24 06:20 pm (UTC)I love the "we've been in so many abandoned mad-scientist laboratories, we know how to spot them by now" bit. It's so true. They have such terrible luck on that score.
Rimmer's family picture makes me terribly sad. As usual.
Am very intrigued, can't wait to see where this goes :D
no subject
Date: 2010-06-24 07:39 pm (UTC)I thought this too - but couldn't figure it out! Since the three oldest went crazy (that was in an episode, right? the deleted scenes ... ergh, now I can't remember WHERE I saw it, trust me to bring it up and not be able to finish the thought), I'm wondering if that plays into this story ....
/shuts up and waits to read more
no subject
Date: 2010-06-28 11:21 am (UTC)I'm reading your comments with interest, but I can't really say anything. Eeep. You make some... interesting points. :D
no subject
Date: 2010-06-24 11:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-28 11:20 am (UTC)