MUSINGS OF A VERY STRESSED-OUT HOLOGRAM

The gist of the plan was simple really. Get in, get out, and leave. It wasn't clever, or even intelligent for that matter, but it was the best they could manage. They would go in, grab the fuel tanks, nab as many supplies as they could, and flee like cowards before something nasty and painful happened.

Brandishing bazookoids, Lister and the Cat went first, boldly and bravely. Rimmer followed on next, holding his own bazookoid and his Chinese Worry Balls, and Kryten followed behind with his psi-scanner. The small device began to beep faster.

"I'm getting life signs," Kryten announced quietly.

They looked around twitchily.

"If one of those suckers runs into me, he's gonna be munching on laser," the Cat said, cocking the bazookoid. "Last time we met, I was wearing the same outfit, and no one will live to tell that story."

Rimmer rolled his eyes, trying to remain calm.

"Look, guys," Lister said sheepishly. "I think it's time I told you something."

"Shouldn't we save confessions for when we're staring death in the face?" Rimmer asked cynically. He was still in a state of disbelief. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to this.

"We can't actually use the bazookoids. They're for psychological reasons only. Look, the scan said that the superstructure is so unstable that even a loud noise could start a ship quake."

Lister couldn't help but notice that during his explanation, Rimmer had acquired a look of frustration, Kryten had a look of disbelief, and the Cat had a neutral expression that looked borderline homicidal.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?" he asked.

"Like what?" the Cat asked quietly. It was a dangerous quiet.

"Like I'm a nostril hair in a Spanish Omelet?"

"Gee, I wonder why," Rimmer grumbled as his voice struggled to stay in a whisper. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't want to cause any panic," Lister replied, not seeing a problem with it.

Rimmer did. "You didn't want to cause any p—GASP!" Damn it, a perfectly good tirade ceased by the new high hologrammatic blood pressure. He grinded the Worry Balls Kryten had given him.

The Cat and Kryten helped him steady himself as he got his breath back and resumed his tirade, albeit a bit more controlled and quiet.

"I can't wait to see how we handle meeting these creatures. What're we gonna do when we meet these bloodthirsty machines, engage them in combat silently? What're we gonna do? Whisper 'charge', tippy-toe at full speed whispering 'shhh', and then chloroform them with Lister's armpit? Priceless! Even Mickey Mouse would roll his eyes at us."

After a few more hushed arguments, they crept quietly down the corridors of the cruiser. They could hear sparks flying and cybernetics popping. Chains dangled from the ceiling. Support beams had fallen. They walked down a long corridor, and they soon had found a separate hatchway. They determined that it led to an escape pod.

They rounded another bend and found an empty room. It was a large room, and up a couple of stairs was a dimly-lit platform.

"What is it?" the Cat asked.

"It's a Teleporter!" Lister commented.

Kryten ran a scan on it. "It's fully functional," he announced.

"Then let's grab what we can carry and load up!" the Cat grinned.

"Quietly," Rimmer hissed angrily.

The process that followed was particularly grueling and boring.

Lister and the Cat were to go down to the cargo decks and bring supplies up to the Teleporter. Kryten, being the only one with the capacity to figure out how to use the damn thing, controlled the operations of sending the supplies into the cargo decks of Starbug. Rimmer was to hide in the corner so he could perform a sneak attack if any simulants showed up.

Lister and the Cat spent the good part of the an hour and forty-five minutes going back and forth with heavy crates of whatever they could carry. Kryten would spend time he wasn't spending teleporting pondering about how much wood a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could, in fact, chuck wood.

Rimmer, on the other hand, was on the brink of dozing off. The anxiety he'd felt earlier was slowly dying and he'd set down the Worry Balls as he kept a loose grasp on the bazookoid. He had spent time wondering why intelligent people always bought hotdogs at the movie theater. It seemed the most idiotic thing he'd ever seen. Those things were barely processed. He was sure he'd seen a snout still on one of those.

Finally, Lister and the Cat were wrapping up. They were carrying a large long crate between them. On the step into the teleporting platform, the Cat stumbled slightly, hurting his trick knee, and he stumbled, causing the handle on his end of the crate to break off, and it fell to the ground with a loud clattering sound that shook the whole ship.

Everyone glared at him.

"My bad," the Cat said, wincing at the pain shooting through his knee.

"Sirs, we need to get out of here," Kryten said. "We don't have much time. We've got the fuel, and we've got more than enough supplies."

"Just one more go, Kryten," Lister pleaded quietly. "Just one more crate of the red hot West Indian red pepper sauce."

Had they thought to do so, they would've turned around to see what was behind them. They would've turned and seen something was stumbling down the corridor. It was, in fact, the Simulant Lieutenant they had encountered not but weeks earlier. She was lurching down the hall towards the hatchway. She slammed into the wall. It caused more rumbling to echo down the ship.

"SSHHHH!!" everyone hissed.

"Hello."

Lister, the Cat and Kryten whipped around and saw the Simulant standing before them. Well, standing was actually quite inaccurate. She was leaning against the hatchway, actually. She was a mess. She was missing one arm, and the one she still had was holding up a gun. Bits of her skin were missing, revealing her mechanical circuitry underneath.

Rimmer felt the anxiety creeping back as he felt his grip on the bazookoid tighten. His heart was pounding. He couldn't find where he'd set the Balls down and had to make due with strangling the trigger stick on the bazookoid.

"Well, well, well," she said. "If it isn't my old friends, the human vermin, the scab of slime, the pus-sucking, puke-laden walking cesspits of unspeakableness."

The Cat looked impressed. "She remembers us," he commented.

The Simulant grinned cynically. "You annihilated my ship, slaughtered my fellow simulants, and you practically destroyed me! Yes, I remember you! And now, you shall join me in dying."

"She's insane. She's lost all common sense in the destruction," Kryten whispered.

"How can you tell?" Lister asked.

He was only being sarcastic, but he was promptly answered by the Simulant firing her gun at the ceiling, causing the ship to rock once again. Debris fell on her face. She didn't even react to it. She just continued to show a grin that evilly lopsided grin of her's.

"Ah, point taken," Lister muttered, fear beginning to build.

It was an embarrassing situation, if not a bit terrifying. Lister, the Cat and Kryten had all realized the same thing by this point. Rimmer was not with them. That meant that their lives now were in his hands. How was he supposed to get around this one?

The answer was coming.

Lister did the only thing he could do: he stalled.

"Okay, let's knock on the door and ask for Ronnie Real. This is a classic stalemate situation. You can't use your weapons and neither can we. Let's just chalk this one down to experience and we'll be on our merry way, yeah?"

He turned to go, but decided to throw something else in for good measure.

"Actually, as far as psychotic deranged ruthless killer simulants go, you're a bit of a babe. What are you doing tonight?"

Kryten could only stare at him in disgust.

The Cat tried to smile, but inside he felt sick.

The Simulant smiled. "Dying," she replied. And she took a shot at the ceiling again, causing more rubble to fall. "Care to join me?" And she reloaded the gun.

As the ship's shaking ceased, Lister finally spotted Rimmer poking his head out from behind his hiding place, and now he began talking to the Simulant again, hoping Rimmer would catch on.

"Hey, come on, let's just talk," Lister said carefully. "We didn't start any of this, and I think that maybe now…"

Rimmer didn't move.

"…is a good time to sit down and parlez," he finished, getting annoyed. "Let's not hang around, just get on with it."

Rimmer's thoughts were racing. He could see it just ahead of him. The escape pod was waiting to take him to safety away from this mess. So why wasn't he taking it?

He could hear Lister, all right. Did that jammy goit really think he was capable of doing this? This was his fault! He's the one who lied and sneaked around them so that he could have his precious spicy food. He's the one who rigged the readouts so that they wouldn't find out that they were low on fuel. He's the one who talked them into this suicide mission!

He wasn't the only one who thought this. He knew the Cat and Kryten were angry with Lister too. He was sure when they got back to Starbug they'd all have a rather violent word with him as well.

That was a thought though. Rimmer realized that if he didn't save them, they'd all be angry with him. If he scarpered off in the escape pod, they'd forget to be mad at Lister for tricking them and be mad at him for deserting them. He'd be the bad guy, and he'd end up probably being beaten to a pulp if they didn't abandon him.

So that was it then. It was the only option. He would kill the Simulant and be a hero, and they'd all give Lister trouble later. It was perfect.

Then he found another dilemma: how the smegging hell was he supposed to kill the Simulant? Obviously with the bazookoid, but how would he work up the nerve? Kryten had told him not to engage himself in any stressful activity. It would only lead to his death. The thought of dying a second time had Rimmer shuddering in his quilted blue uniform.

Well, maybe it was like getting a shot from the doctor. Just a quick pinch and it's over. Sure, he'd always needed someone to hold his hand when that happened, and it was a habit he hadn't kicked until he was twenty-eight, but it was his only hope. He'd just take aim, close his eyes and power on through it.

His decision made, he turned towards the Simulant.

This entire thought process had taken up a total of ten seconds.

Lister, the Cat and Kryten felt slightly relieved when they saw Rimmer slowly turning away from the escape pod and towards the Simulant. She didn't see him, of course. Everything was going well.

Rimmer carefully aimed the bazookoid and tried hard to quietly load it by pulling the choke. He pulled back on it, praying that this would work without him being discovered.

CHICK!

The bazookoid loaded very loudly.

Everyone cringed from the noise.

But the Simulant didn't seem to notice. Something must've happened in the original explosions that caused her to lose most of her hearing. It was just a guess, but Rimmer decided he'd settle for that. He just couldn't believe how lucky he'd just been.

Praying that he'd get it right, he aimed right at the square of the Simulant's back, put his thumb over the button, and pressed down hard no it.

BAM!

A blast of white laser flew through the barrel, sailed through the air and hit the Simulant in the back.

She staggered slightly and…

Oh for the love of HobNobs…

She didn't fall. She remained standing.

Just as she was about to turn and look, Rimmer quickly threw his legs into Backwards Leg It and managed to get back around the corner and hide again before she could see him. However, rather than investigate further, she looked even angrier as she turned back to Lister and the others.

The Cat and Kryten's jaws had slid open as they stared at what had just happened in shock. Why hadn't that worked?! Rimmer had fired perfectly. The Simulant should've died right there. It was perfect!

They then remembered something.

Lister had been the one to prepare the bazookoids for them.

They glanced suspiciously at them.

Lister squirmed uncomfortably at the glares that were showering him.

"So…," the Simulant growled. "You tried to kill me with your own trickery. You tried to get me from behind. Absolutely despicable. That is the lowest form of attack. You do not deserve an honorable death."

The Starbuggers winced nervously.

Rimmer was frantically trying to figure what he'd done wrong. What the hell had just happened? Everything had gone so well! He'd aimed, he'd known the weak spot, he'd fired, the white laser flew out, and he'd remembered to…

Wait a smegging minute!

White Laser?

Rimmer thought back to the last time he'd used a bazookoid.

Starbug had just crashed again on an asteroid, and the landing legs were buried in rock even deeper than usual. Since the Cat had had to pilot, Rimmer had gotten talked into helping Lister to free the ship by blasting the rocks with the bazookoid. He focused on that. He focused on fumbling with the bazookoid, trying to get a feel of it in his new hard-light fingers. He'd never held one before, and he was trying to get used to it.

It was then that Rimmer remembered the difference.

A regular bazookoid fires orange laser, not white.

He quickly checked over the gun, trying to find what was wrong. He opened up the back and checked his cartridge.

Smeg that Lister. Damn him all the way to Fear Factor.

It was a Blank Cartridge instead of a Live Cartridge.

Lister had picked up a set of Blanks one time on a derelict about a month back. They had been compatible with their guns. It was for training purposes. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Rimmer felt the anxiety creeping back. Odds were that all of the bazookoids had Blanks. Now what could he do? His weapon was useless!

Then he managed to realize that maybe it wasn't. Maybe he could still use it. He heaved the strap over his shoulder and took hold of the housing with both hands. He waved the barrel around once or twice, aiming it higher to get a good feel of it. He was ready.

He checked on the others. He had only been doing this for twenty seconds. They all looked terrified as the Simulant seemed to load her own gun and aim it at them.

Now throwing all caution to the wind, Rimmer charged forward and took a swing with the bazookoid barrel.

SPLATTER!

Everyone jumped back as the barrel went flying through the Simulant's neck, slicing her head off. The stunned head dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

The headless body stood there for a long moment, and then the knees seemed to give out and caught the body as it fell, followed by a good collapse onto it's stomach, one arm still outstretched, causing the gun to fire again.

BAM!

The Cat and Kryten jumped out of the way as Lister jumped up in the air, allowing the gunshot to fire at a support beam further down the corridor.

CRASH!

The ship began to shake and rock a little bit.

No one seemed to notice. They were too busy staring at Rimmer as though he'd just turned into a two-headed Lindsay Lohan. They were pleased, but still a little weirded out.

"Sir!" Kryten finally said. "Are…are you alright?"

Rimmer began to clutch his chest, but he soon found that the pain was gone. He looked a bit calmer now.

"Oh, smashing the Simulant's head off must've been a great way to relieve all that stress, sir," Kryten said assuringly, winking.

Rimmer nodded, getting his bearings back.

"Bud, what happened?" the Cat demanded. "Why didn't shooting the Sim-Lady work?"

Lister began to squirm.

"A good question, sir," Kryten said. "Mr Rimmer aimed correctly. She should've died right then and there."

Rimmer was, unfortunately, beginning to feel like his old self again, and so he entered what the others liked to call Smug-Git Overload.

"Well, Krytie, although my gunmanship was superb, there was an unforeseen circumstance stopping me from delivering the final blow," he said, nostrils flaring up as though they were inflating.

"What happened?" the Cat asked.

"Why don't you ask Commander Sensible over here?" Rimmer suggested, now glaring pointedly at Lister.

Realizing once again that Lister had failed to alert them of one of his boneheaded moves, the Cat and Kryten's eyes followed in suit and began glaring at Lister.

Lister continued to wince under the glares as his stared at his feet.

"Well, Listy?"

"Sir?"

"Bud?"

Lister felt himself growing smaller and smaller until he finally 'fessed up.

"Alright, alright," he said at last, throwing his hands up in the air. "I loaded the bazookoids with blanks."

"Blanks, sir?" Kryten repeated disbelievingly.

"But Blank Cartridges are harmless, bud!" the Cat said as his voice began to rise in exasperation.

"Well, I thought that the Sims would be injured enough that the Blanks could take them out! A Live one would've caused a ship quake!"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Kryten demanded.

"He didn't want to cause any panic," Rimmer and the Cat said together, both glaring angrily at Lister.

Rimmer was secretly thrilled. He'd saved the others despite it all, and now here they were, letting this careless doik have it.

Unfortunately, he had to cut his fun short as he noticed the shaking was getting more powerful.

"Kryten, what's happening?" he demanded, dust and dirt falling on all of them.

"That last gunshot seems to have taken out a support beam, sir," Kryten yelled over the noise. "It's collapsed and started a ship quake!"

"We can't get back to the Bug from here!" Lister shouted.

"Sure we can!" Rimmer said. "We can use the Teleporter!"

"Sir, that's an unorthodox way of escaping."

"This was an unorthodox raid."

Before Kryten could stop them, Lister and the Cat immediately scurried onto the teleportation platform. He pulled Rimmer aside.

"The Teleporter isn't calibrated to human tissue," he whispered. "There's a high chance that the Mr Lister and the Cat will get turned inside out when we materialize."

Rimmer glanced at Lister and the Cat, both of whom were waiting anxiously. "Well, let's not tell them until after it's too late," he decided loudly. "We don't want to cause any panic."

Lister and the Cat glared at Rimmer as he joined them. Kryten followed and activated the handheld remote. In a flash of light, they disappeared.