The Choice

by Bice

Chapter 1

He crept down the dim passageway, straining to catch any sound from behind as he made his way toward Lift 29, and, he hoped, safety. The red emergency lighting turned his shadow into a leering monster, hunching along beside him, advertising his presence no matter how low he crouched. He slid around a stack of supply crates and froze, his breath harsh and sounding impossibly loud to his ears, as the unmistakable 'click' of a safety being disengaged on a bazookoid echoed from somewhere back in the warren of storage containers he had just threaded his way through. Oh God, it was going to find him, there was no way he could get to that lift and key in the code before it caught him. And then it would do to him what it had done to his friends- the Cat, Kryten, even that smeghead, Rimmer. In his terror, the pain and sorrow he felt for the loss of his crewmates was overwhelming. It sapped his willpower, making this deadly game of hide and go seek seem the dream of a deranged lunatic. There was no escape down that lift. It lead only to the port landing bay, where for all he knew the Starbug was already sabotaged and useless, destroyed like Holly. He sagged against the cold wall in the deep shadow cast by the piled crates, hugging his knees up to his chest reflexively as the chill bit into his back through the leather. The bazookoid rifle cradled to his chest showed readouts that glowed a dull orange, the power charge almost exhausted. His thoughts sped about in tired circles, wearily trying to find a way out of this monumental mess he found himself in. He had been running and hiding for what seemed like days, though probably only hours had passed. Only hours since he had sat on the drive deck with the rest of the crew, talking over how they were going to handle the opening of the strange craft they had pulled into the Dwarf's docking bay in hopes of salvaging something interesting. Only hours since his life had been normal, or as normal as it could be these days. And it was all gone now. All of it.

Once again, he was alone. There was no one to help him, no one left to care about him. Dave Lister, the last human, hiding in the dark cargo docks of a giant spaceship floating through space millions of miles from Earth, with no friends, no hope, no help, no nothing.

C'mon, look at me. I'm the last smegging human being in the whole smegging universe, and this is the best that I can do? Sit 'ere and let that rat bastard just come and blow me away, like some sniveling piece of space garbage that got in his way? No way. No smegging way, man. I'll show him what it means to mess with Dave Lister . That son of a bitch is gonna pay big-time for what he did.

He's gonna pay.

With a surge of sore muscles, he forced himself to his feet once more, leaning only briefly against the cold support behind him before pushing off into the dark passageway, heading towards Lift 29.

"Tighter, make it tighter! He's still bleedin' all over the smegging place!"

Rimmer hovered over Kryten and the Cat's shoulders, feeling as useless as he ever had in his entire life as he shouted advice to ears too busy to listen. Lister lay limp on a gurney in the medical unit, his pallor heightened by the bright red splashes of blood on his arms and face. It pooled by his legs and soaked his coveralls a darker brown. Kryten was struggling to tie off a tourniquet on the man's upper left arm, where a severed artery pumped its precious fluid out steadily. His task was complicated by his only partially functioning left hand, which trailed wires and connections from it's earlier hasty reattachment. The Cat's attention was on his prized purple coat, which he was cutting into ragged strips with wild slashes of a small knife. Neither spared the hologram even a glance as they continued to work frantically, trying to stop Lister's blood loss so as to gain time to get him hooked up to the sophisticated equipment that could save his life.

"I've got this one secured, give me another piece for his leg" Kryten ordered, as his easing off the arm cloth pressure produced no new spurt of blood. He turned his attention to the gash in the humans upper thigh, his robotic brain buzzing with information on medical emergency care which he had loaded in more leisurely times, information which was proving invaluable now. He quickly sprayed it with sealant, then wrapped the bandage tightly around the seeping wound, only taking the time to insure that there were no obvious shards of metal or cloth in it before winding it up and securing it with a hastily offered clip from the Cat. There would be time later to more properly clean the area - right now he had to insure that Mr. Lister survived the next few minutes.

He scanned the head wound next, it being the potentially most life threatening injury now that the heavy bleeding had been stopped. The human had a nasty gash running across his temple, right back through the short curled hair along the right side of his head. It had bled copiously at first, but the flow had slowed to a trickle, exposing the gaping cut in the epidermis of the skin. Kryten quickly closed the cut off, sealing it shut and cauterizing it with a delicate touch of the medical laser.

Moving quickly now, with no wasted motions, he began hooking Lister up to the Medicom, his robotic brain steadily and accurately counting down the seconds as they ticked away. The Cat watched nervously, still clutching the remains of his coat as he tracked the robots movements. While he had become proficient in flying the Starbug with its simple straightforward controls, he had never been trained in using these more complex machines, and most of what Kryten was doing was a mystery to him. Rimmer, who had a much more detailed understanding of the necessary steps, found himself once again practically twitching in his desire to help.

Lister lay still, huddled against yet another stack of crates. He was getting more and more tired. It seemed as though his whole world had condensed into a series of endless dimly lit rooms filled with sharp edged containers, most of which he had either run into or hidden behind already.. He laid his hot face directly against the floor and breathed in the metallic flavored air gratefully. God, but that had been close. He had rounded the last stanchion before the lift, or at least what he thought was the last, when a slight scuffling sound had warned him. He'd dropped down just in time to miss having his innards decorate the wall in new and interesting patterns. The laser fire had come, not from back in the stacks as expected, but from the shadowy walkway before him. How the smeg did 'e get in front of me?

A wave of weariness swept over him, making him want to just give up and lay there in the dust and the grease and wait for his executioner to come finish him off. He was so tired of it all, running and running like a space weevil in a giant maze, which knew a gelf was just biding its time before squashing it flat underfoot. Only this was no hairy humanoid trying to turn him into a waffle, but an insane rogue simulant armed with enough firepower to wipe out all the original inhabitants of Red Dwarf, plus a few odd colony populations for afters. If there was a weapon that wasn't hanging off the smegging bastard, it was only because it hadn't been invented yet. His lone bazookoid with it's failing charge was comparable to a child's popgun. About as effective as Rimmer when he tried to be likable.

The pain of that thought brought him back to the seriousness of his present situation, and he began to edge as quietly as he could across the floor grid to the far side of the stacks. From there, he should be able to get a better look at the lift doors and what was awaiting him there. He hurt, his head and side throbbing where he had hit the console, and wriggling along the floor didn't help. Even so, he had been incredibly lucky in the fight, not like the others. For a moment, he thought he could hear their voices, far off and faint. The quick surge of hope faded quickly. The Cat, Kryten, Rimmer...no, that was stupid, they were dead, dead and gone, and the sooner he got that through his smeggin' head the sooner he could face up to what he had to do next. Namely, rip that bastard apart and stomp it into dust.

Reaching the far wall, he heaved himself up and crept forward again.

They gathered in the far corner, speaking softly as if a loud voice could wake the still form lying surrounded by softly beeping monitors in the center of the room.

"He has a fracture in the frontal portion of his skull - I could never understand why humans are built on so fragile a superstructure as bone, so inefficient - and at least four broken ribs on his left side. The injuries to his arm, leg, and ribs are serious but no longer life threatening, now that they are closed off and the blood loss stopped." Kryten hesitated. The Cat's usual toothy grin was notably absent. His face was tight with worry, and his perfectly manicured nails (claws, Kryten reminded himself, really they were vestigial claws) were kneading the ruined purple fabric of his coat as he waited for the rest of the bad news.

"Get on with it, what are his chances?" Rimmer hated having to rely on anyone, let alone this walking pile of misplaced junkyard parts, but he had to admit that Kryten had performed well so far. And after all, the only alternative was letting the Cat do emergency repairs, and that didn't bear even thinking on. At times like this, being already dead and physically untouchable seemed almost a positive thing.

"Not good." The situation was actually so bad, Kryten couldn't even summon a reassuring note into his voice. Even worse, he was having a hard time keeping from scaling it up to the high whining note he tended to hit when panicking, the one everyone found so annoying. Taking a deep metaphysical 'breath', Kryten continued. "While he is breathing on his own, he sustained serious damage to his frontal lobes from that piece of shrapnel, and the swelling is already very bad. With Holly's help fine tuning the MediCom, treatment would be relatively simple. Without it, the healing process is greatly limited by natural limits. To sum up, he has, if you'll excuse the expression, as much chance of recovering as things are now as a pot noodle has of actually being edible."

"So what you're saying is..." Rimmer's face was so pale he was almost translucent.

"Without Holly, and with the backup generators to run her unreliable until we can repair the damaged circuit panels, Mr. Lister will die." There was a moments silence as the others absorbed the sobering news. Kryten hesitated, then went on.

"I feel that we should put Mr. Lister immediately in stasis so that his condition will not deteriorate more, until we get Holly back online and can treat him properly. It's his best chance."

Lister glanced about nervously as he keyed in the code to open the restricted lift, trying look in all directions for the enemy shadowing him. The door hissed open, and he darted inside, swinging around immediately and slapping his hand against the control to send it down, sealing the doors. As it began to sink, he collapsed against the back wall, relief surging so strongly through his mind that he felt faint. Made it. Just have to get a little further, is all. Just a little further. Get in the 'bug, power her up, get the smeg out of this awful place. Nothin' to hold me here now. Got nothin' left. Yeah, that's it. Get out. Out.

He refused to think about what there was for him elsewhere.

Dimly aware that his head was aching again, he slowly sank down and curled up on the floor, gradually relaxing as the lift carried him closer and closer to safety. He was going to be all right. The simulant would have to backtrack, find another lift and then recover the lost ground to get to where Lift 29 grounded. He'd have time to do what he had to do.

"Mr. Lister sir, stop! You'll injure yourself!" Unfortunately, Lister wasn't hearing him, or much of anything else in the real world. Kryten tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he held the human's shoulders down against the bed. A part of his circuitry noted his achievement in successfully utilizing the relatively new emotion, but was overruled ruthlessly when it suggested a celebration was in order. Now was definitely not the time. The Cat was braced against Lister's ankles, trying to keep the aimlessly kicking feet still as Lister writhed feebly in his delirium.

Rimmer kept his eyes glued to the monitors, where the life signs were jumping all over the place. "Can't you give him something to settle him down?" he asked, his eyes darting momentarily from the readouts to the activity on the gurney, then back again, like loose marbles rolling about a bowl

"Hey, he's already got so much stuff in him, he's a living advertisement for at least six drug companies!" The Cat, who didn't like Rimmer much at the best of times, bared his teeth in a grin that definitely wasn't friendly or amused. Cloister, what a smeghead! Now, if things were only different and that idiot was the one flopping about on the bed like a guppy out of water, instead of his buddy. No chance of that, though. Even though he was soft-light, that idiotic self-absorbed smeghead wouldn't dream of putting himself between danger and anybody else. Not like his buddy had done. No, he'd be off hiding under the scanner table again. The Cat gave Rimmer another glare, and the hologram suddenly decided that a far corner was the place to be.

Or maybe the scanner table area, that might be a good place to hang out for a while.

The cockpit of the Starbug was in ruins.

Lister leaned his aching head against the steel hull, rolling his burning forehead against it in an effort to cool the fiery ache. He was so tired, and so confused. Where was everyone? Oh yeah, they were dead. They had to be dead, or they would have been here with him. Dimly he realized that somehow that didn't quite make sense, but the effort to think it through made his head hurt worse. He'd been chased over practically the entire ship, miles and miles and miles of cat and mouse games with his pursuer. Not once had he been able to get a direct shot off at the smeghead after him. His best hope of escape looked like it had been taken apart with a hatchet. He hadn't been able to get back to the drive room, every time he'd tried to cut that way he was expertly headed off. Smeg, I feel awful. Haven't felt this bad since the Cat spiked my lager with that 'orrible Cat juice muck he and Holly dug up. Maybe I'd better rest a bit 'ere, won't do any harm. Just for awhile...

At least he wasn't suffering. Kryten had assured them that Lister could feel nothing of his injuries, and was totally unaware of their presence. But the thought didn't bring the relief, the absolution, Rimmer wanted it to. He had to face it. Not even Lister deserved to die like this, on a forsaken ship millions of miles from anywhere with a deranged droid, a inbred feline with pretensions of humanity, and a bastard like himself as his only company. Rimmer had few illusions as to his own worth, no, make that many illusions, but in this area the true facts were painfully clear. He was, and had been for years, a pain in the ass to Lister, as much for the sheer vicious bitchiness of it as to meet Holly's rather vague requirement to keep the man 'involved and sane'. Pushing Lister's buttons had been fun. And God knew that Lister had deserved every single thing Rimmer had managed to do to him. The man was an animal, a lager guzzling, curry bespattered travesty of a human being. He had so many gross habits that he made a rabid baboon seem like a gentleman. But, even Rimmer had to admit that Lister had changed over the past few years of their enforced association. He had kept up the disgusting lager and curry based diet, but his personal habits and clothing had improved markedly. He'd actually learned things, like how to fly the Starbug and repair various machines, an event Rimmer would have sworn to be an impossibility back when he was alive and still on the soup machine runs with him. THAT Lister hadn't known the difference between two of the simplest tools on board, and furthermore hadn't given a smeg.

Rimmer rather thought, that if Lister was presented with a balky chicken soup dispenser now, he would not only know the correct tools to use to fix the mechanical problem, he would probably talk it into putting out the best soup on the whole smegging ship.

He suddenly wished he had a solid body, so he could go pound that bastard simulant into small enough pieces to fit into the trash compactor...after he'd restored it to awareness.

And though it would take a set of red-hot tongs applied to his nether regions to make him admit it out loud...if Lister did die... he would miss the stupid git.

Lister sat up with a start, just catching the bazookoid as it slipped off his lap. He could hear muffled explosions, deep within Red Dwarf. Probably the loss of Holly's supervisory programs had allowed dangerous buildups and overloads all over the ship. Nothin' I can do about that. Years of small touchups on the Starbug and Kryten's tutoring had hardly prepared him for the kind of massive repairs those sounds represented. A panel blew out above him, and he hastily ducked and fled, slapping at the hot sparks burning on his scalp. What sounded like a chain reaction kept him running, breathless now and gasping for air, until he fetched up against yet another incredibly hard crate and slid to a panting pile at its base.

Smeggin' hell. The whole place is going down. The thought wasn't as distressing as it once would have been. After all, it wouldn't be much of a bother to very many people, would it? Not anymore.

One might even say it couldn't have happened at a better time. He thought back to what now felt like ages ago, but had really been just that morning. When Holly had called an alert and annoyed him till he crawled off his bunk and paid attention to her, it had hadn't seemed that unusual. Another salvageable vessel, maybe a chance to go out in the Starbug, pick up spare parts or whatever. Routine way of life on the Dwarf, really. Then the smeg had hit the fan, so to speak.

After that, it had been downhill all the way.

Chapter 2

"What's up?" Lister asked, yawning as he made his way to a seat on the drive deck. He was exhausted. He had only just gotten to sleep an hour or so ago, after an all night session using the AR machine role playing a World War I flying ace, one of his favorites. He dropped wearily into a padded chair, swiveling to swing his bare feet up onto the console among the blinking switches and screens. "I thought you'd scanned this whole area and said there was nothing interesting."

"I did." Holly answered calmly. Her expression was quizzical, a direct result of her rather extensive programming in communicating by human facial expressions. Not that the currant example of the species now before her would ever noticed, being about as observant as a rock in her opinion. "The object I am detecting is approaching Red Dwarf on an intercept course from behind the blue gas giant in the left quadrant of the main screen. I was unable to detect it earlier, due to the interference." Holly hesitated, then continued. "My sensors could possibly have been affected by several time anomalies I have detected in this area, as well."

Lister glanced up at the image of the planet in question, then back down at the information Holly was sending through his station console. "There aren't any life readings-could it be just old space debris? Something maybe suitable for us to check for salvage stuff?" As he spoke, the Cat wandered sleepily onto the deck, being herded gently in the direction of his station by Kryten with Rimmer trailing along in the rear.

"There is a 69 percent probability that it is a guided craft-it has made three course changes since I detected it, which have put it on a more direct path directly to the ship. And it was not caught by the gravity well of the planet, which indicates that it has its own drive and is not drifting randomly."

Rimmer spoke up. "So how long before it reaches us?" Smeg, how he detested this. It seemed hardly a day went by without strange craft or weird creatures coming along to disrupt his timetable schedules, and they usually finished up by trying to eat his light bee.

The Universe hated him, that was it.

"It will reach us in approximately 10 minutes." Holly's calm visage remained unchanged at Rimmer's yelp of outrage.

"Ten minutes! And you've been tracking it for how long? Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Only for a few hours. I didn't want to interrupt Lister's session with the AR machine." For a second, Holly looked almost embarrassed. "It was quite enlightening, really. The way that girl with the red hair was able to-"

"Ah, that'll do, Hol." Lister didn't need to hand Rimmer any more information to use against him for free, he had quite enough already. "So what should we do, guys? Bring it in and see what we've got?"

"If I may say so, sir, I think that that would be rather dangerous. We don't know anything about the craft's origin or it's contents. Could I suggest that we instead send out a probe first to scan for signs of life or possible clues as to what it contains?" Kryten looked worriedly at Lister. Sometimes, he had noticed that the human tended to rather impulsive in his approach to new things. While it was a trait he admired and hoped to one day master himself, so far his logic circuits prevented him from copying Mr. Lister in this area. And, it must be admitted, Lister often displayed the survival characteristics and reasoning abilities of a lemming which suddenly found itself on the edge of the tallest cliff in the universe.

"C'mon, Krytes, let's just bring it in and crack it open. Holly can scan it for anything dangerous when we get it inside. We can use the quarantine bay," he wheedled, knowing that the robot would give in to him if he pressed. Kryten's submissive programming did come in handy sometimes, as much as he disliked it usually. "Who knows what goodies it has inside. Maybe some supplies or new games or even a new computer that just needs a little fixing for Holly to get on with."

The Cat spoke up from his absentminded grooming, his attention caught. "Is there any chance it has any discerning, tall, gorgeous people of the female persuasion on board?" He wasn't interested in the technical details of getting the strange ship onto Red Dwarf. As far as he was concerned, the monkey and goal-post head could take care of all that. He was a cat, and cats knew how to delegate. He felt that he had it down to an art.

"It has moved close enough for my short range scanners to make a more thorough examination," Holly spoke up. "I can still detect no signs of life. However, there is a working power source on board that may be a artificial life form. I am unable to make direct contact on the usual frequencies. It's just not responding."

"I say we listen to the superior officer on board, which just so happens to be me," Rimmer said, ignoring the rolled eyes, "send out a probe, then if nothing new turns up, pull it into the quarantine dock."

Lister grimaced. Trust Rimmer to straddle both sides of the fence, after first stealing the boards. Smeghead.

"Also, I feel that I should point out that there is no way that Lister should be included in any welcome party unless he changes his clothes for something that doesn't have whole new life forms growing on it."

Lister glanced down at himself. Hey, I'm wearin' me best dressing gown and me boxers were washed just three days ago. Hardly any stains, either. No pleasing some people.

There being no great opposition, they agreed on Rimmer's plan and went their ways to get ready. Lister headed off back to his quarters to dress in something a bit less rumpled, while Kryten remained with Holly to launch and monitor a probe and keep trying to raise a response from the strange ship. Rimmer hovered around , trying to contain his excitement. Not only had the others finally taken one of his suggestions, but it was very possible that the energy source was another hologram, perhaps damaged but repairable. Or maybe it contained an alien! He had never quite given up hope of meeting one, and began mentally preparing a greeting for their possible exotic visitor.

The Cat rushed off to take a quick shower so as to be at his absolute best for any possible females he might encounter.

Twenty minutes later, Holly guided the small craft into the quarantine docking bay. With part of her circuits, she noted that none of the Dwarfer's had made it there yet. Nothing unusual there, this bunch had never managed to be on time for anything before. With a shrug of nonexistent shoulders, she completed her task and settled back to monitoring Red Dwarf's systems, keeping part of her considerable attention upon the foreign visitor in the quarantine bay.

"So, Kryten, what did you find out?" Lister inquired as he sauntered into the quarantine dock twenty minutes later.. He ran a gloved hand over the scratched gray surface of the craft. Seen close up, it most resembled one of those old Series Forty asteroid hoppers. Except that this one was equipped with some serious engine modifications, by the look of the exterior ports. Hearing no answer, he looked back at the mechanoid curiously . What he saw on Kryten's face wasn't reassuring.

"The door was open and the craft was empty when we arrived, sir." Kryten answered, obviously upset.

"What? Why the smeg weren't you down here sooner?" Lister demanded, jumping up onto the edge of a landing skid and balancing while he peered in past the door towards the pilots seat. Kryten managed to look even more guilty, if possible.

"Mr. Rimmer insisted that I finish polishing his lightbee first." He held up a small piece of cardboard. "And make this sign." Lister eyed the neat block print with disbelief.

"We Come In Peace? Smeg, Rimmer, even if there was such a thing as aliens, that's so lame it'd be sure to make them puke." Standing behind him, Rimmer rolled his eyes. Stupid git, always blabbed everything to Lister.

"I know what you're up to, Rimmer. You're hoping that there's a beautiful blonde bombshell hologram in this 'ere ship, who's been just waiting for you to rescue her." Lister took one more glance into the cockpit, then jumped down easily. "Only thing is, looks like she's already heard about you and took off." He walked thoughtfully around the empty ship. "Holly, where did the pilot go?"

Holly's face appeared on a nearby overhead screen, looking slightly worried. "It's very odd, Dave. I was unable to get a visual. Whoever it was, was able to screen themselves from my scanners."

"Is that possible?" Rimmer looked alarmed.

"Possible, but not likely, sir. To circumvent Holly our visitor would have to possess superlative technological skills and capabilities far advanced beyond our ability to compete. " Lister looked confused.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Kryten?"

"I'm saying, sir, that we are in deep smeg." As if to counterpart his words, the lights went red and security alarms began howling. Holly spoke above the din.

"Dave, Lift 34 has just been activated."

"Well, stop it, then!"

"I cannot. The controls have been overridden."

"Where's it going, Hol?"

"To the main drive deck." Holly looked alarmed. "There is very delicate equipment there. My main banks can be accessed from that point."

"Smeg." Lister took off running, tearing past a surprised Cat, who had finally finished preening and come to check out the visiting ship.

"Hey buddy, what's up? You almost rumpled my threads!" But Lister was gone, flying for the lift access corridor, closely followed by Kryten and Rimmer. Seconds later, Cat stood alone in the echoing docking bay, mirror in hand. "Monkeys!" he muttered to himself. Then running footsteps heralded Lister's return. He grabbed Cat by his immaculate sleeve and dragged him off after Kryten, ignoring his protests.

Reaching the lift, Lister only delayed long enough to grab a bazookoid from the weapons rack and toss one to the Cat and Kryten before piling in. He correctly interpreted Kryten's rising protest, waving off the proferred weapon firmly. "I know, I know, Kryten, you can't kill! But whoever is up there won't know that, so just point it at him anyway."

When they reached the drive deck, they stood looking at the closed hatch uneasily. After all the rush to get here, the reality of the situation was sinking in and none wanted to make the first move to meet their possibly dangerous visitor. Lister spoke up at last.

"All right, who goes first?" There was an uncomfortable silence.

"It should be someone who we can most easily do without, who contributes the least to our survival."

Everyone looked at Rimmer.

"Hey, I do my share! If it wasn't for me, Lister would be a raving insane lunatic by now!" Rimmer said indignantly.

The Cat leaned over to Kryten and whispered loudly as he pointed at Lister with a smug grin. "See? I mean, look at that poor monkey. That smeghead hanging around him all this time, no wonder he's like he is!"

Lister rolled his eyes. "All right, all right, I'll go. Kryten, hang back and let the Cat handle backup for me if we have any trouble. Rimmer, keep an eye out behind us, in case there's more than one of whatever is up here. Ready?" Lister looked around expectantly. "All right, let's do it! He keyed the hatch and waited a moment before easing inside cautiously, trying look in all directions at once. At first he couldn't see anything out of place. He started to straighten, relief rushing through him. There was nothing here. Maybe it had all been a false alarm, like the time Holly had thought the Dwarf was heading for five black holes, that had turned out to be grit.

Then the computer, which had been busily rerouting her circuit paths in an attempt to circumvent her damaged lines, spoke up, just as something moved in his peripheral vision.

"My scanners are back on line! Look out, it's right in there with you!"

She was too late. As Lister caught sight of their unwanted visitor and recognized exactly what it was, he realized that maybe bringing in that odd craft for salvage was really the most colossally stupid thing they had ever done. Maybe the last stupid thing they'd ever do.

The simulant was extraordinarily fast. It moved so quickly that none of the stunned Dwarfers had time to react. It's hand blurred, coming up with what Lister belatedly recognized as a Mag trim hand laser, illegal on Earth but openly favored by mercenaries of all types due to its lethal power in a relatively small housing. This ran through his mind even as he dived for the dubious safety of the nearest chair, hearing the sizzling hiss of the laser as it made contact with a target. He flinched involuntarily as he hit and rolled, anticipating pain as he brought up his bazookoid from his awkward position and aimed it at their attacker. The first thing his mind registered was the sight of Kryten staggering back, aimlessly waving what had once been his right arm, but was now lacking several inches in the wrist department. His hand lay on the floor at his feet with wires trailing from the severed power connections, still clutching the bazookoid. Rimmer was shouting incoherently, something about 'we surrender, we surrender!' but just about then Lister's forebrain caught up with events and decided to join in the fun. His aim was a little off, but he managed to hit the simulant's left shoulder with his first shot, raising a flurry of sparks and causing it to stagger back a step. Unfortunately, this turned its attention onto him, and it's return fire ricocheted off the steel deck plates, grazed his arm, and continued up through the main computer data banks. Even as he lost his footing and was tossed backward onto the console (thinking oh smeggin' hell), the damaged circuit panels, unable to compensate for the resulting power feedback, overloaded spectacularly. His world flared white and a burning pain shot across his head and leg as the boards exploded. He actually felt ribs snap under the force of the impact as he hit . Dimly, Lister could hear Holly's voice going on in the background, something about danger and evacuation. But she was far too late. As he slid to the floor, the sound of the Cat firing his bazookoid was the last thing he heard before he sank into a soft cottony darkness.

He woke up slowly, dragging his sluggish consciousness up from the comfortable peace of oblivion, the smell of burned plastic from the ruined control panels stinging his nose. When he opened his eyes, he had a hard time focusing them enough to see in the dim light. What the- how much did I drink last night? Gotta stop sleeping on the floor, too smegging hard. God, my head hurts.

Gradually, he became aware of the silence. The only sounds were the almost inaudible hum of the air processing units and that annoying crackling sound. Slowly, he sat up and braced his head against his knees until everything stopped spinning and he could look around without feeling the need to upchuck.

What he saw brought the bile rising back into his throat for entirely different reasons. Reaching out, he clawed at the nearest chair and staggered to his feet shakily, still staring wide-eyed at the carnage surrounding him. This can't be happening, this can't be happening ran endlessly through his head, as he half turned to see the entire deck.

Something crunched. Looking down, he saw he had stepped onto a swath of some tiny glistening metallic fragments that lay strewn across the floor. At first, to his already numbed brain, it had little significance. Then he realized what the bits must be and flinched involuntarily, favoring his sore leg as he tried to hop off the stuff as quickly as he could. Rimmer. Smeg, it was Rimmer's light bee.

What was left of it, anyway.

After that, things took on a surreal cast He wandered dazedly about the destruction, picking up the little mirror from where it had fallen and tucking it carefully into the Cat's pocket. Amazingly, the glass was unbroken. He avoided touching the massive red stains that decorated the snazzy jacket.

He found his bazookoid lying under Kryten. One glance at the robots head was enough. The simulant had been particularly savage with the mechanoid, and hadn't left much to recognize. Or repair.

Dully, he wondered why he had been left alive. Surely the bastard's sensors had scanned him and registered that he still lived. So why hadn't it killed him? He paused, swaying, by Holly's dark screens, his bazookoid dangling. For some reason, it was so hard to think. He hurt everywhere, especially his arm where the bolt had grazed him and his head and side from landing against the console. There wasn't much flammable material about, but nevertheless small fires had sprung up here and there, and the smoke was adding to his misery. It must be a dream, he decided. No way this could really be happening. It had to be the product of that fourth serving of curry and those six lagers last night.

It couldn't be real.

He had almost convinced himself of this when he heard a sound behind him. Oh, smeg. He knew what he would see before he turned.

There was only one body unaccounted for.

Chapter 3

"I thought he said something," Rimmer said, leaning over Lister, careful to avoid touching the wires and tubes, even though he could have no possible effect on them in soft light mode. Normally, he had better things to do with his time than hang about staring at Lister's unprepossessing face, but it was his turn at watch. He'd been passing the time idly revising his work list - he was a firm believer that busy hands were best -when he heard a mumble from the bed. He stared hard at Lister's face, such as was visible under the machinery. Kryten, who hadn't stopped hovering like a mother hen for the last two days since they had gotten Holly back online and brought Lister out of stasis, hurried up so quickly that he accidentally slid through Rimmer form.

"Oh, excuse me sir." He studied the readouts. "Mr. Lister's condition is still not stable. I do wish we could have gotten Holly online sooner. The delay before we put him in stasis may have been critical to his chances of recovery. Even now, with Holly fine tuning the process, his prognosis is not much more improved than before."

"Ok, so his brain may be totally fried after all. I owe the Cat a fish dinner. But why would he be talking to himself - I mean, he never has anything original to say even when he's conscious. I would think even he would know it was a complete waste of time at this point. " He glanced again at Listers pale face. "Could he be having a dream?"

Kryten considered it. "It is possible, sir."

"Well, knowing Lister, he's probably waving a fork and chasing a naked woman through a giant pan of vindaloo, singing that disgusting song about Triton as he goes."

In the end, it cornered him not in the cavernous holds, but in the narrow, twisted passageways that ran along near the cold outer skin of the Dwarf, where usually only the skutters ventured. Lister had been maneuvering back towards the upper decks, taking out of the way corridors whenever he could. If there had been anyone left to ask, he couldn't have said why he was trying to get back up there. At this point, he was strictly on automatic, moving just to move. The explosions shaking the ship were increasing, sending vibrations through its length as the system failure spiraled. He was pretty sure that whatever was causing all of it was eventually going to reach the main engines, so any victory celebration by either of them was going to be pretty short.

The bazookoid's power light flickered, then went red. It was completely drained, useless. In a final fit of impotent rage, Lister threw it at the simulant and stood, shaking, waiting for it to finish him. The smeg with it all, he was sick of it. He wasn't going to run anymore.

"C'mon, you freaking wired up bastard! Let's get to it! What you waitin' for, eh?"

When the steel plated ceiling beam fell and flattened the son of a bitch, he didn't know who was more surprised, it or him.

The dark red ship sailed serenely through space, it's hull brilliantly lit with thousands of small fiery lights that shone from the rooms within. Farther inside, the sole occupant of the onboard hospital, Dave Lister, was very busy dying. If he had been aware enough to comment on it, he would have said it was a lot like experiencing a very spicy curry-a hot, initially painful event, but one which held out hope of better things to come.

Holly had done her best, but the damage to Lister's brain had been too severe. Her latest scan had indicated that the man's systems were beginning the inevitable shut down. With practically no chance of recovery remaining, she had decided that his best chance of recovery was to place him back in stasis.

It would then depend upon the other Dwarfer's being lucky enough to come upon technology superior enough to restore him to health, or Lister proving to be God after all and healing himself, something Holly wouldn't want to bet the last bog roll on.

"So this is it."

Rimmer spoke at last, breaking the silence that had spread through the room as he stared down at the dying man. For some reason, it didn't seem right. Not that Lister could die, but that he should die now, like this. After all, the man had survived a lethal radiation leak, three million years in stasis, eating curries that could strip the paint off metal, and numerous and sundry disasters including marriage to an amorous gelf. It just didn't seem possible that he would die from a tiny piece of steel thrown off from their own computer. For the past few hours, Rimmer had this nagging feeling that this whole horrible mess was out of whack, that Lister hadn't really been badly hurt in the drive deck fight after all. Yet the evidence lay plain before him that he had been. A small corner of his brain was busy trying to figure this out, but it was fighting a losing battle against itself with predictable results.

He was getting a headache.

As he stood over the half buried, still twitching simulant, Lister waited to feel something. Anything. But all he could find was a deadness inside, not the fierce rage that had consumed him just moments before. He worried at this absently, rocking slightly on his heels, trying to puzzle the feeling out. If the Cat had been present, he would have commented that the monkey's brain wasn't firing on all thrusters. But he wasn't, and Lister just wasn't up to deep introspective musings. He was exhausted, more tired than he'd ever been before in his entire life. He hurt practically everywhere. His favorite black leather jacket was half shredded, his shirt in not much better shape, and he was hot, dirty, thirsty, and generally pissed off.

And he was alone.

The thought had crept back, sidling into his consciousness again like a nervous cat. Mentally, Lister flinched. No, don't go there. Don't think about Cat, or Kryten, or Rimmer, or Holly. Don't think about what the rest of your smeggin' life is going to be like, no company but the skutters. If even they had survived. He hadn't seen any for hours. Maybe they had gotten smart, and hid.

Unknown to Lister, as he stood contemplating the depressing future, something special was about to happen.

The ripple in the fabric of space between dimensions in the area in which Red Dwarf was currently existing was worsening. The walls of reality between the two had grown weaker.

The end result would give the last known human in his universe a chance to, if not change the past, to choose his future.

Red Dwarf began passing through a time anomaly, and in one small area of the ship, coincidentally only a few feet from where Lister still stood still rocking slightly, the fabric between dimensions became stretched tissue thin.

Rimmer, Kryten and the Cat stood solemnly around Lister's bed, their presence all they could give their friend. Holly stood faithful vigil overhead, monitoring his failing system as his breathing slowed.

Rimmer opened his mouth to speak, then froze as Lister's chest stopped it's slow rise and fall.

Lister first noticed an increase in the light around him. Then a sense of movement behind him brought him out of the stupor he had entered. He turned around slowly, squinting and raising his free hand against the sudden increase in light. A moment later, his other hand dropped the bazookoid as he stiffened in shock. A blue-white, wavering portal had opened in the air behind him. Despite the glare, he felt no heat.

While normally Lister would have adamantly refused to go anywhere near anything as obviously weird and dangerous as this was bound to be, at this point in his life he felt that he didn't have all that much to lose. He walked towards it ,approaching the rippling spot warily. Through it, he could see several vague figures who's outlines sharpened as he came nearer. With growing disbelief, he saw it was Kryten, the Cat, and Rimmer, intently gathered around something. Their lips moved soundlessly as they talked, oblivious to his presence. Wait a minute, if they are still alive...and over there, and I'm here...where is this? What the smeg is goin' on? Is this real, or is that? Involuntarily, he glanced over his shoulder, in the direction the drive room lay. God, I want that to be real. Can I trust me'self to know the difference? Lister stared at the scene wavering before him, then back over his shoulder again at the shadowy cargo bay. On one hand, he had his friends, alive and safe before him, restored to him as if those terrible moments had never happened. On the other, he was still stuck in this horrible place with the dead, the Dwarf coming apart around him, no hope of much of anything at all. Could he join this bunch? Should he? What he was seeing might be the dimension of another Lister, his place already taken. Or it could be his own. He looked at the ruins of the simulant, lying there awaiting the ultimate final destruction of decay and rust. Then back at his friends. The scene in front of him wavered, and he had the sense of time running out. He made his decision.

And, close by yet infinitely far away, in the medical bay on the Jupiter mining ship Red Dwarf, three million years out from Earth , Dave Lister, the last human being alive, opened his eyes and grinned.

Chapter 4

Lister laid his still-painful head back gratefully against the soft pillows, extremely pleased at being in a (fairly) clean bed, with practically everything he could possibly want close to hand. Kryten had brought him several packets of classified officer discipline records for light entertainment reading, and his guitar also, though he had been warned against actually playing it inside the ship. The Cat had fetched a silky, if somewhat eye-searing, metallic rainbow throw out from one of his many hiding places to put over what he had referred to as 'those drab fashion disaster sheets' that were the usual hospital stuff. He'd dribbled some chicken curry on it earlier, and his lager can had foamed all over it a couple times too, but it still lent the place a touch of class. Even Rimmer had unbent a little, and allowed that if he wanted to listen to 'that smegging awful excuse for music that you like', he could, as long as he gave the hologram at least twenty-four hours written notice beforehand so that Rimmer could have Holly turn him off for the duration. And he had the skutters at his beck and call, to fetch anything he needed. All in all, Lister could find very little to be unhappy with. Everything was as it should be, unless you took into account Rimmer's strange...niceness. But since everyone else apparently found the phenomenon equally unusual, he was sure it wouldn't last. He had tried to bet twenty with Holly that Rimmer couldn't keep it up another week, but she had refused. A 'sucker's bet', she'd called it, saying that now Lister was recovering, Rimmer was bound to revert. She'd also muttered something strange about 'Supreme Beings shouldn't have it all easy'. Lister still wasn't sure what that had been all about. Anyway, Kryten had insisted that he needed several more days of complete bed rest, so he was stuck in here for awhile longer. The mechanoid still had difficulty rationalizing how Lister's skull fracture had more or less disappeared, and was keeping an eye on him.

Just as well. He could use the down time. And with Holly's help, he had arranged to keep Rimmer busy for a while so that he couldn't find the time to hang about. He would never have believed it, but a caring and solicitous Rimmer was even worse than the normal sarcastic backstabber. Kind of unsettling, really.

He hadn't told them much of what he remembered from the fight or the resulting coma (which of course had actually happened to their Lister). Only that he had had a nightmare about being chased through the corridors of Red Dwarf by the rogue simulant. Nothing of how he had last seen them in what he had come to believe was his true reality, or their fate there. Nothing of the choice he had made while looking through that dimensional rent, balancing the chance of regaining what he had thought lost forever against the loneliness of remaining on his own Dwarf.

While not normally a deep thinker, Lister had figured out some of the ramifications of what he had done, and had decided that there were some curries that were better left unstirred. In his dimension, his Red Dwarf, his friends had died, shot down by a crazed simulant with no idea that the war it fought was long over. In this Red Dwarf, in this reality, it was Lister who had died in the fight, when Holly's exploding computer banks had filled the air with shrapnel. Had died. Would have died. Did die , but been replaced? Smeg, it was confusing!

Laying back, Lister took a bite of sugarpuff sandwich and a swig of chilled vindaloo, and began to plan. Up in a couple of days, go round, see if much of anything was different from what he remembered. It would be kind of odd, really.

He wondered, for a moment, if anything this weird had ever happened to Ace.

The End