Categories > TV > Red Dwarf > Cold
Lister leaned back onto the stark medi-cot and closed his eyes to the dim light. Wires dangled from electrodes pasted to either side of his forehead, running to a small black box in the corner of the otherwise blank room. Its soothing humming was the only sound. The Hypno-Regresser was a simple machine, Kryten had assured him - merely an alteration of the Dream Recorder. Lister was rarely inclined to trust the android in matters concerning his own brain, but in this instance - this was a trip he wanted to take, and he didn't want to take half-arsed. No, maybe 'wanted' wasn't the right word - but he wasn't about to use the right one.
The scenes of Lister's past moved backwards like a vid on rewind. Back to the days when he was still alive. He called a mental pause on the moment when Rimmer first walked in on the mess that was his new bunkmate's natural habitat. Lister slowed the replay as Rimmer's nostrils flared in disgust. Such a simple act, but so orchestrated, when you looked with a view to critique. The eye-crinkle preceded the actual nostril flare. Once the eyes had narrowed sufficiently, it was the sides of the mouth that lead the charge, pushing upwards as the sides of the nose expanded. The whole effect communicated disgust and condescension in equal amounts, in a gesture that Lister was to become very familiar with.
But that wasn't it.
Fast-forward - and the scenes spun ahead. He paused briefly at the soul-baring soup moment, but that wasn't it. Too early. Too uncaring. Faster. The ill-fated memory. The bar-room tidy. The fear-suction. Ace... Stop.
From this vantage, he was able to take a long, hard (indeed) look at Ace. Style, swagger, élan - no question. Everything Arn didn't have. Ace stood in front of Lister like a Greek god and a kindly mentor, in one luscious lamè package. Undeniably attractive, Ace stood... on a pedestal. Too distant. This wasn't it. Fast-forward.
The evil... Stop.
He saw the low Rimmer march down the stairs. Now, unburdened with terror or pain, he took a better look at the situation.
Whatever Rimmer's subconscious thought, piercings just didn't work on him. Or the feathers. Fast-forward.
The long sleep... the psirens (Lister took a quick replay of Pete Transet's sister - slavering monster though it was, for that moment, it had looked and, lord yes, felt like Pete Transet's sister). The heat-unit failure... Stop.
Lister looked at that night that he warmed Rimmer's light bee. This wasn't it... But it was close. He felt the nearness of the hologram, his barely-presence when he would finally shut up for once. And Lister was intrigued, amused, maybe slightly solicitous. Close. He fast-forwarded more slowly.
The brown planet they fled to after the heating unit died. Stop. Play normal speed.
Lister and Cat were eager to disembark, and crowded around the airlock. With both of them working at it, it took twice as long to open.
"Well, you made long work of that, chaps," Rimmer commented testily as he followed them outside. Kryten sniffed and headed to the engine room to start the heating unit's auto-repair system.
They had landed on what had looked like a well-cooked crepe from above. Up close, it looked like a very large well-cooked crepe. This planet had been arid for a long, long time, Lister guessed. He gratefully shed his gaudy throw and parka, and tossed them back inside the airlock. Cat had already run inside after a quick look out, shed his furs, and emerged in a shining gold thigh-length jacket over a tight black shirt and matching black-and-gold trousers. "How am I lookin'?"
"Like Liberace's worst nightmare," Rimmer sniffed.
"Listen, Captain Scarlet of the Dork Brigade..."
"Ladies!" Lister interrupted. "I hate to intrude, but - Cat, help me set up the shelter out here. Rimmer, man, make yourself useful and look around."
It was always a tossup as to whether Rimmer would take a reasonable suggestion, but he merely rolled his eyes at Cat and headed over a rise to the north.
The portable shelter was designed to be easy for a single wounded crewmember to set up, so Lister and Cat were done in a surprisingly short time.
"Yeeeeeeeees!" exclaimed Cat. "I can finally take a bath!" He started to peel off his jacket.
A cat-bath was not something Lister really wanted to see at the moment, so he left the shelter and wandered around Starbug's landing area, assessing the status of the vehicle. He concluded, after an hour spent circling the vehicle, that he wouldn't know a sound and dirty ship from one that was ready to shatter if you broke wind too vigorously. However, this inspection did result in him being behind one of the landing legs when Rimmer came back over the ridge.
He had obviously been running; holo-sweat stuck his hair to his forehead, and he looked winded. He didn't see anyone else outside.
And his expression was, for the first time that Lister can remember seeing it, completely unguarded. Relief, excitement, mild fatigue - the details were there, but most importantly, arrogance and condescension had taken a holiday.
And he looked smegging beautiful.
Pause.
This was the place. Lister was sure.
He quickly scrolled through the rest. The immediate return of the arrogant gittishness once Lister stepped into view. The brackish lake Rimmer had found, that nonetheless gave the recyc machinery something fresh to work with. The bender they threw that evening in celebration, with Kryten serving as their designated walker. The resumption of the pursuit of Red Dwarf with some reluctance once the heating unit was fixed. Legion, hard light... Lister stabbed the mental fast-forward savagely.
The cockpit. Pause.
Lister looked out over a sea of light bees, forming a glowing ring of breathtaking beauty around the pale pink planet. But... resume. Lister turned to the man sitting beside him. "Are you really gonna be the one who breaks the chain?"
Rimmer was looking out over the spectacle, awestuck. There was a time when Lister thought this moment was the one in which he fell in love. But no; it was already done. In this moment, seeing that unguarded face, and it staying that way in front of him - displaying wonder, fear, and - he dared think - a bit of hope... well, in this moment, he became a lost man.
In more ways than one. He looked at that jaw, hard-light now, and imagined running his fingers along it, feeling the soft skin with a hint of stubble pulled over the bone below. He imagined the taste of those lips, how they would give for a moment and then resist if he crushed them under his, nipping until they opened and let him slip his tonge in, devouring, opening Rimmer's mouth farther, a tart fruit ripe for plucking... But not now. In a moment. In just one more moment, when it would be the right one. In one more moment - until there were no more moments left, and there was no more Rimmer on the ship.
Just a pile of their junk in the cargo hold and a persistent ache in his heart.
"Why do I have to think of you, man?" he asked the dark room.
The machine hummed happily in response.
Lister sighed and turned it off.
The scenes of Lister's past moved backwards like a vid on rewind. Back to the days when he was still alive. He called a mental pause on the moment when Rimmer first walked in on the mess that was his new bunkmate's natural habitat. Lister slowed the replay as Rimmer's nostrils flared in disgust. Such a simple act, but so orchestrated, when you looked with a view to critique. The eye-crinkle preceded the actual nostril flare. Once the eyes had narrowed sufficiently, it was the sides of the mouth that lead the charge, pushing upwards as the sides of the nose expanded. The whole effect communicated disgust and condescension in equal amounts, in a gesture that Lister was to become very familiar with.
But that wasn't it.
Fast-forward - and the scenes spun ahead. He paused briefly at the soul-baring soup moment, but that wasn't it. Too early. Too uncaring. Faster. The ill-fated memory. The bar-room tidy. The fear-suction. Ace... Stop.
From this vantage, he was able to take a long, hard (indeed) look at Ace. Style, swagger, élan - no question. Everything Arn didn't have. Ace stood in front of Lister like a Greek god and a kindly mentor, in one luscious lamè package. Undeniably attractive, Ace stood... on a pedestal. Too distant. This wasn't it. Fast-forward.
The evil... Stop.
He saw the low Rimmer march down the stairs. Now, unburdened with terror or pain, he took a better look at the situation.
Whatever Rimmer's subconscious thought, piercings just didn't work on him. Or the feathers. Fast-forward.
The long sleep... the psirens (Lister took a quick replay of Pete Transet's sister - slavering monster though it was, for that moment, it had looked and, lord yes, felt like Pete Transet's sister). The heat-unit failure... Stop.
Lister looked at that night that he warmed Rimmer's light bee. This wasn't it... But it was close. He felt the nearness of the hologram, his barely-presence when he would finally shut up for once. And Lister was intrigued, amused, maybe slightly solicitous. Close. He fast-forwarded more slowly.
The brown planet they fled to after the heating unit died. Stop. Play normal speed.
Lister and Cat were eager to disembark, and crowded around the airlock. With both of them working at it, it took twice as long to open.
"Well, you made long work of that, chaps," Rimmer commented testily as he followed them outside. Kryten sniffed and headed to the engine room to start the heating unit's auto-repair system.
They had landed on what had looked like a well-cooked crepe from above. Up close, it looked like a very large well-cooked crepe. This planet had been arid for a long, long time, Lister guessed. He gratefully shed his gaudy throw and parka, and tossed them back inside the airlock. Cat had already run inside after a quick look out, shed his furs, and emerged in a shining gold thigh-length jacket over a tight black shirt and matching black-and-gold trousers. "How am I lookin'?"
"Like Liberace's worst nightmare," Rimmer sniffed.
"Listen, Captain Scarlet of the Dork Brigade..."
"Ladies!" Lister interrupted. "I hate to intrude, but - Cat, help me set up the shelter out here. Rimmer, man, make yourself useful and look around."
It was always a tossup as to whether Rimmer would take a reasonable suggestion, but he merely rolled his eyes at Cat and headed over a rise to the north.
The portable shelter was designed to be easy for a single wounded crewmember to set up, so Lister and Cat were done in a surprisingly short time.
"Yeeeeeeeees!" exclaimed Cat. "I can finally take a bath!" He started to peel off his jacket.
A cat-bath was not something Lister really wanted to see at the moment, so he left the shelter and wandered around Starbug's landing area, assessing the status of the vehicle. He concluded, after an hour spent circling the vehicle, that he wouldn't know a sound and dirty ship from one that was ready to shatter if you broke wind too vigorously. However, this inspection did result in him being behind one of the landing legs when Rimmer came back over the ridge.
He had obviously been running; holo-sweat stuck his hair to his forehead, and he looked winded. He didn't see anyone else outside.
And his expression was, for the first time that Lister can remember seeing it, completely unguarded. Relief, excitement, mild fatigue - the details were there, but most importantly, arrogance and condescension had taken a holiday.
And he looked smegging beautiful.
Pause.
This was the place. Lister was sure.
He quickly scrolled through the rest. The immediate return of the arrogant gittishness once Lister stepped into view. The brackish lake Rimmer had found, that nonetheless gave the recyc machinery something fresh to work with. The bender they threw that evening in celebration, with Kryten serving as their designated walker. The resumption of the pursuit of Red Dwarf with some reluctance once the heating unit was fixed. Legion, hard light... Lister stabbed the mental fast-forward savagely.
The cockpit. Pause.
Lister looked out over a sea of light bees, forming a glowing ring of breathtaking beauty around the pale pink planet. But... resume. Lister turned to the man sitting beside him. "Are you really gonna be the one who breaks the chain?"
Rimmer was looking out over the spectacle, awestuck. There was a time when Lister thought this moment was the one in which he fell in love. But no; it was already done. In this moment, seeing that unguarded face, and it staying that way in front of him - displaying wonder, fear, and - he dared think - a bit of hope... well, in this moment, he became a lost man.
In more ways than one. He looked at that jaw, hard-light now, and imagined running his fingers along it, feeling the soft skin with a hint of stubble pulled over the bone below. He imagined the taste of those lips, how they would give for a moment and then resist if he crushed them under his, nipping until they opened and let him slip his tonge in, devouring, opening Rimmer's mouth farther, a tart fruit ripe for plucking... But not now. In a moment. In just one more moment, when it would be the right one. In one more moment - until there were no more moments left, and there was no more Rimmer on the ship.
Just a pile of their junk in the cargo hold and a persistent ache in his heart.
"Why do I have to think of you, man?" he asked the dark room.
The machine hummed happily in response.
Lister sighed and turned it off.
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