On his way down to the communications suite, Lister stopped to grab a cup of tea and a bacon sarny. It had been a bloody long day, and he still needed to head to the medical unit to check if his pneumonia had gone when Confidence had killed himself.

"'Ey! This one's working." He grinned as the dispensing machine actually gave him his requested tea and sandwich.

"Is it really?" He could see Rimmer's lip curling as the man stalked past him, long legs covering the ground quickly.

"Yeah." Rimmer's bad mood didn't dim his own good one. The man was probably still confused that Lister hadn't bothered to make use of the hologram projection discs.

"Fantastic." The tall man snarled as he headed off to the Xpress Lift.

"Guess I'll see you there." Lister headed off to the quarters off Blue Corridor 133. It was one of the Cat's hiding places, and where he preferred to spend the night, having set the surrounding rooms as storage for his clothing.

"Cat?" He called out as he headed towards his friend. "You there? Cat?"

The Cat was one of the oddest men Lister had ever met, including those he had come across in art college and time he had fallen asleep on the bus home from a festival and ended up on the edge of some smegger's estate with a band of drunken, fashion-conscious druids.

He found the feline in his chosen quarters, humming as he washed his ties.

"Yo, Cat!" He called out as he slouched in. "We've had an SOS call, didn't you hear Holly?"

"You mean more of you monkeys?" The Cat's disapproval was evident in his face.

"We're in the communications suite. Come on." Lister sighed as he headed out. The Cat may not follow straight away, but like his ancestors, he would probably slink in later on and act like it was unintentional that he'd ended up in the same room as them.

It sometimes amused Lister how similar to old Earth cats, the Cat actually was.

"It's from an American ship, private charter, called the Nova 5. They've crash-landed. I'm trying to get them on optical."

"Not aliens then?" Rimmer asked, his face hopeful.

"No. They're from Earth. I hope they've got a few odds and sods on board. We're a bit short on a few supplies."

"Like what?" Lister asked as he sipped his tea.

"Cow's milk." Holly answered as tonelessly as possible. He didn't really want to get into the supply situation with the humans. They tended to be touchy about knowing what they were eating. "We ran out of that yonks ago. Fresh and dehydrated."

"What kind of milk are we using now, then?"

"Emergency back-up supply. We're on the dog's milk."

"Dog's milk?" Lister stopped drinking, face frozen in horror.

"Nothing wrong with dog's milk." Holly defended his choice as Rimmer cackled, apparently not realising that he'd been drinking it too. "Full of goodness, full of vitamins, full of marrowbone jelly. Lasts longer than any other kind of milk, dog's milk."

"Why?"

"No bugger'll drink it." He looked at Lister's face and realised that the man still wasn't convinced. "Plus, the advantage of dog's milk is: when it's gone off, it tastes exactly the same as when it's fresh."

The tea was dumped with a complaint, and Holly had to acknowledge that he may have failed. He had been on his own for three million years at not once had he made a mistake when talking to himself; a few weeks with people around again, and Holly had a suspicion that he had lost some of his interpersonal subroutines.

"Something's happening!" Rimmer yelped as he pointed at the screen, which fizzled as Holly tried to secure the connection.

At first, he thought there was a problem with the optical receivers, but after checking, he decided that the flat, angular face was indeed an accurate projection of what was over there.

"Thank goodness, thank goodness! Bless you!" The mechanoid wailed, clearly in distress mode. "We were beginning to despair!"

"We?" The Cat had turned up, in fresh clothing now that he had finished his cleaning.

"I am Kryten, the service mechanoid aboard aboard the Nova 5. We've had a terrible accident! Seven of the crew died on impact; the only survivors are three female officers, who are injured but stable."

"Female?" The Cat asked, visibly perking up. Holly was eager for them to get there, he hadn't seen a female of any species for 12,349 years. There weren't any statis booths in the design, but perhaps they had been added later on.

"I am transmitting medical details now."

Holly allowed the details to show on the monitor; Captain Yvette Richards, Star Demolition Kirsty Fantozi and Flight Co-ordinator Elaine Schuman.

"Tell them the boys from the Dwarf are on their way! Or my name isn't A.J. Rimmer, Space Adventurer!"

"Oh, thank you! Bless you!" Kryten flapped in delight. "I'll tell them."

"Space Adventurer?" Lister asked once the mechanoid had cut the transmission.

"It's good psychology. What am I supposed to say? 'Fear not, I'm the bloke who cleans the gunk out the chicken soup machine! Actually, I know smeg-all about space travel, but if you've got a blocked nozzle then I'm your guy'? That's going to have them oozing with confidence, isn't it?"

Holly rather thought that Rimmer had a point. In the novels he was reading, Rimmer would have been one of the side characters, mentioned only in passing.

"Hey Head, how far are we away?" Asked the Cat.

"Not far. 28 hours?" It was possible. From that last moon had only taken 34, and the distance was only a little bit less... maybe... if he squinted... He'd need to get Rimmer to repair his sensors, once the man had gotten round to painting the hull again.

As the Cat hurried off, closely followed by Lister, Holly stopped the First Technician.

"Arnold, we have spare medical supplies in Cargo Bay 1."

"We do? Excellent... Do you think I should wear this, or something more practical? They've crashed, and if I have my jumpsuit on then I can help with any repairs without looking like a total tit."

"Jumpsuit. Once you've got it on, you'll have enough time to make a start on painting the hull."

Rimmer glared at the screen for a moment, before he caved.

"Fine. But only because I don't like the idea of space corrosion."

"Of course, Arnold." Holly agreed as the man headed up to his quarters. In return, he would make sure Rimmer stopped in time to get some sleep before they met up with the women on the Nova 5.

After all, he'd found Rimmer worked best if he thought someone was looking out for him too.

'Dum dum dummm dum dum DUM dum dum dummm...'

Arnold growled as he pressed his head further into his pillow as Lister's music blasted out the speakers. At least rolled to face the wall, he didn't have to watch the twitching that Lister called dancing.

"Dum dum dumdum, dun dun dun dummm." Lister sang along, somehow out of tune with music that barely had a tune itself.

Arnold curled up smaller in his bed, desperately trying to get back to sleep, but it was no good.

"WILL YOU SHUT UP?!" He finally cracked, sitting up and glaring.

"Pause." Lister turned to look at him, confusion spread across his face as he looked Rimmer up and down. "Didn't realise you were in here, man."

"I'm trying to sleep." Arnold stated, crossing his arms over his chest as he remembered he hadn't even out anything clean on before bed. He was still in the sweaty undershirt and shorts that he had been wearing when he'd been in that spacesuit several hours earlier.

"I thought you'd gone off to do something. I remember you saying something about the diesel decks a while back."

Lister was busy fishing a small toffee mallet out his locker to try and soften his socks, and so didn't see Arnold's face.

"You... I was thinking about that months ago. Plus three million years if you could how long we were in statis. You remember that?" He felt oddly touched that Lister had paid hi so much attention. Personally, he would have noted if a superior technician had said something back when he had been starting out, but Lister had never been that kind of person.

"You had posters of them everywhere, man. You'd have to be blinder than Louis Braille to miss it." But before Arnold could feel dejected at the response, Lister sent him a small smile. "Plus you were pretty excited. You used to talk about it when we were on shift together."

"Oh." Arnold probably resembled a fish with his slack-jawed gormless expression, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He shook his head to try and get his brain working. "No. Holly wanted me to get on with painting the ship."

"On yer own?"

"You hated it last time you had to do it. And... I like having something to do."

Lister gave another small smile, though it was different to the last one. Arnold hoped it wasn't pitying, but it was hard to say when he'd never made any great efforts to study the subtle expressions that crossed people's faces. He knew anger, he knew boredom and he knew fear; in the grand scheme of things, those were the important expressions to recognise.

As Lister moved to his locker to pull out a brown paper bag that Arnold knew contained a ratty old pair of underpants (he'd only checked because he had suspected Lister of smuggling contraband aboard), the older man staggered out of his bunk and grabbed his towel.

A shower first, then he'd get dressed and go rescue these women. They weren't in the Jupiter Mining Corps, so they had no ability to take control of his ship. Heck, they weren't even in the Space Corps; then he may have had enough respect for them to let them take control. No. Holly had found they had something to do with advertising; he wasn't sure what, but something to do with a popular fizzy drink.

Advertising. He scoffed as he stripped off his underclothes and pushed them into the laundry chute. Miners where needed, this ship had an important job. Maybe not as flashy as the goits who shot about in modern ships for the Space Corps, but it was one of the jobs that needed doing. The ores needed collecting and transporting.

He scoffed again as he turned the water on and stepped under the spray. Even as a technician aboard this ship, his job was still more important than a Captain who worked for a company that main purpose was to tell people what to drink... It wasn't even alcoholic, for smeg's sake!

He just had to remember that. He had to keep in mind that he was more vital to Earth than these three female officers... Or had been, now that the human race was likely gone.

"I'm matter." He spluttered softly as he held his head under the spray and reached for his shampoo. He didn't have any posters or flowcharts for talking to officers outside either the JMC or the Space Corps (his brothers were the reason he'd made flowcharts for the Space Corps).

Not only that, but these girls would take away what attention he had from the others. Lister would probably be pleased if he bogged off to the Diesel Decks... that was probably the only reason he had remembered about Arnold's interest in them anyway; for the chance to have their room to himself. Now, he'd have the chance to be alone in them with three pretty women.

Assuming they didn't take a shine to Cat.

Oh, he could just see it now, that feline sleezing about as he held not only Lister's attention, but the rest of the human race's. 80%, that would be. 80% of the human race would be too interested in the Cat to pay Arnold any attention.

Well, fine. He'd just focus on becoming on officer himself then. He'd work on fixing the ship and he'd spend his spare time studying. The rest of the crew might be gone, but Holly could still supervise the exams for him. In fact, Holly probably wouldn't charge him to sit them in the first place. With the AI in charge, he'd stand no chance of being able to cheat... but Arnold had to admit that he'd never dared to do that anyway. He'd only thought about it once, and the idea of getting caught had sent him into such a panic that he'd missed the exam anyway.

Everything was fine then. Absolutely and totally fine. He'd rescue these women, who hopefully didn't need a complex MediUnit, and then they'd set off again. While all the others had a dreadful time living in each other's pockets despite the large, empty ship, Arnold would focus on passing his astronavigation exam. Without having to suck up to anyone in his spare time, he'd be able to focus. He'd be climbing the ranks in no time, up the ziggurat, lickety split!

Arnold knocked the water off, and stepped out as the plumbing clunked noisily behind him. He wasn't even going to dress up for these women, he decided. Let Lister and the Cat make a fuss over what they were going to wear. Heck, he wouldn't even wear his everyday uniform. He was going to put his jumpsuit on so that he could get on with painting the ship when they were done.

He finished drying and stood in front of the mirror for a moment, eyes raking over his skin.

He was looking a bit scruffy, he mused. Fine. He'd shave, but he wasn't doing it for anyone but himself. He felt better when his hand slid smoothly across his chin.

"Holly?"

"What's happenin'?" The AI greeted as the glass in front of Arnold changed from a mirror to a screen.

"How long do we have?"

"'Bout half an hour, I think."

"You think?" It was comments like that that always worried Arnold.

"Yeah. Depends on the landing. Someone's going to have to pilot one of the shuttles down to the Nova 5. The Blue Midgets and Star Bugs are in the best repair."

"Who do you think should pilot?"

"Not the Cat."

"Holly."

"Well, you may have only scraped over the pass mark, but you do have a licence. On the other hand, Lister drove hoppers on Mimas for a living and has better intuition with these things."

"Me then." Arnold ground out as he began to slather cream over his face. Who the smeg cared if Lister could make the machines sing? Arnold was the only one legally allowed to pilot them.

"Okay, Arnold." Holly said in a placating tone as he disappeared.

"Thank you." Arnold snapped to his own reflection, a hint of embarrassment giving his face an ugly red flush. He scowled at his reflection for being unattractive, then picked up his razor to shave.

Lister stared at his hands as Rimmer muttered to himself. The older man was piloting them, and while it wasn't the smoothest ride he'd ever been on, his queasy stomach came more from the idea of meeting people this far out into deep space.

Maybe in another few weeks, he'd have been more excited to meet someone new, but for the moment he was still getting used to have just the three of them and Holly.

As the craft jolted down, Lister looked out the main window.

"Nice place for a skiing holiday." He said in an effort to break the tension that had built up.

"Anything on the tracking monitor yet?" Rimmer asked as he focussed intently on moving through the atmosphere.

"Not yet..." Lister replied as he looked over at the senior technician. Of all of them, Rimmer seemed the least bothered about meeting three women. He hadn't even bothered putting on his shirt and tie! Instead, the man sat in the pilot's seat wore the heavy duty jumpsuit that was to be worn when doing messy work... As though Rimmer was making an effort to not make an effort.

He still cut a nice figure though, Lister mused as he watched the other. Ok, so he still had a parting so severe that his ear was a risk of being sliced off, but at least he was nice to look at... Something had to make up for the terrible personality, after all.

"It's up. Eh? Lat. Twenty-seven, four? What's that even mean?"

"Give it here!" snapped Rimmer, flicking a switch on the pilot's dash to transfer the information from Lister's monitor to his own. "Ok... easy does it."

The landing was rough, but they only bounced twice before Rimmer deployed the caterpillar tracks. As Blue Midget lumbered awkwardly over to the Nova 5, Lister shut his eyes and imagined he was in his bunk, enjoying a vindaloo with some crunchy poppadoms.

However, when Rimmer announced they were there, Lister still didn't move. He'd only interacted with Holly, Rimmer and the Cat recently; none of them counted as normal. He was out of practice.

"Move now, miladdo. I've still got things to do on Red Dwarf."

By the time Lister had unfastened himself from the seat and gotten up, Rimmer was marching out the door. The Cat was busy fussing over how to put his helmet on, which was a far better distraction.

"Come on." he sighed. "Let's get going."