THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RED DWARF

DISCLAIMER: Tolkien characters belong to him; Red Dwarf characters belong to Grant Naylor. Anything else that pops up will hopefully be attributed to the right person.
NOTE: This takes place during the third season of Red Dwarf.




"Dave," Holly, Red Dwarf's computer, said to Dave Lister, "there's something you need to see down in the cargo decks."
"Oh, smeg!" Lister exclaimed. "Not another polymorph!"
"No."
Lister breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good."
"Nine of 'em."
"WHAT?"
"I'm counting nine separate life readings, down in the cargo decks. Look, I didn't put 'em there! Don't blame me!"
"Find Rimmer, Kryten and the Cat. We're goin' in."

"What the smeg is going on here?" demanded an irritated Arnold J. Rimmer, who'd been listening to his Hammond Organ CDs when the alert came.
"We've got unknown life signs in the main cargo bay, Mr.Rimmer."Kryten explained. "Holly's internal scanners picked them up a few minutes ago."
"It's probably Lister's smegging socks again."Rimmer grumbled, clearly displeased at being taken away from his cherished Hammond music. "Holly's about as useful as an icepick in the Sahara."

Cat was eating, and you did not get between Cat and his food, ever.
"Go 'way, I'm busy."
"Holly's found something in the cargo decks we need to check out."
"Fine. Send me a postcard."
"We don't know if it's dangerous."
"Then I really don't want to go."
"You're goin'." Lister dragged him along by the arm, despite his protests.
"What about my lunch?"
"It'll still be there when we get back!"
"This better be good. Making me miss my lunch . . ."
Kryten had already been alerted, and had bazookoids at the ready.

In the cargo bay, the Fellowship of Nine stared in mute disbelief at their surroundings....

"Where are we?"
"I don't know." They appeared to be in a small square room with metal walls. But it was no metal they had ever seen before.

'Did you hear something?" Sam asked Frodo.

The Hobbit drew his sword and stood ready, in case they were attacked.
The door in front of them opened . . .

...and from the other side, Lister, Rimmer, Kryten and Cat cautiously approached their nine visitors, bazookoids at the ready. Scanning the Hobbits' swords, Holly said, "Oi, I haven't seen that many dangerous sharp objects in one place since the last time Dave tried to cook."

The other hobbits nudged Frodo forward. "Who are you?" he asked. "What place is this? How did we come here?"
"You tell me, Mini-Me," Rimmer said, and Lister whacked him with the butt of his bazookoid.

"What the smeg is your problem, Rimmer?"

Kryten decided to do the talking. "Welcome to the mining ship Red Dwarf, sirs."
"It's a dwarf ship, then?" Gimli asked.
"Actually, it was named after a type of star."
"Look, a midget!" Cat said, playing with Pippin's hair.
"Cat, stop that!" Lister admonished him. Under his breath he muttered, "Am I the only sane person here?"

"Define sanity, Lister." Rimmer retorted, also sotto voce.

Aragorn stepped forward. "Look, could you tell us how we got here, and where exactly 'here' is? You said this was a ship; what ocean do we sail on?"
Lister, Rimmer, and Kryten looked at each other helplessly. Cat was on his knees examining the minute fastenings of the Hobbits' clothing (despite their protests).
Lister finally answered. "See, you're, um . . . you're in space."

"Space?"

"In what space?" Merry asked, confused.
"You know . . ." Lister made some vague arm gestures. "Outer space. The great blackness between planets. Out among the stars and all that."

"Thank God Lister's not a tour guide." Rimmer said to himself.

"Perhaps Holly could shed further light on the subject," Kryten ventured.
"Oh, God, we're really getting desperate," Rimmer moaned.
"We're too far down," Lister said. "We're gonna have to go up to the Drive Room. Follow me."
The Fellowship followed. Miraculously, they all fit in the lift. They went up to Command Level (it was a long and uncomfortable trip, but they survived), and proceeded to the Drive Room. It was only halfway during Holly's presentation that they noticed they weren't all there.
"Anyone seen Legolas and Gimli?" Boromir asked.
Frodo looked around. "Merry and Pippin have gone too."
"I think I left my stomach on that up-and-down box," Sam groaned, looking decidedly green.
"We'll split up and search for them," Rimmer decided.

"God help us if they've found the disco." Lister said. "They'll be smashed inside ten minutes flat..."
"Even sooner if they get hold of your wicked strength lager, sir." Kryten told him.

"Oh, smegging 'ell! Me lager! I left it in--"

"Supply Room 12" said the sign on the door. Judging from the stream of incoherent Elvish drifting through the crack, this was the right place.
Aragorn opened the door . . .
. . . and his jaw almost hit the floor.
It was a well-known fact in Middle Earth that Elves did not get drunk. However, up to this point no Elf had ever met Wicked-Strength Lager. The pile of cans on the floor told the awful truth: Lager 6, Elf 0.
Dwarves were made of sterner stuff; it had taken Gimli twice as many cans to get that drunk.
"WHASSAAAAAP!" the drunken duo chorused.
"Oh my God," Rimmer and Aragorn moaned simultaneously.

Down in the disco, fortunately, it was a bit better. The drinks dispenser had stubbornly refused to serve alcohol to anyone under four feet tall. Not even standing on a chair could fool the mechanical menace, and Merry and Pippin had at last resigned themselves to fruit juice and loud music.

That didn't stop them, however, from finding their way to Parrot's Cafe...

. . . but before they could get to the bar, they found the karaoke machine.

"Is this all of them?" Rimmer asked.
Frodo did a quick head-count. "No, we're still two short."

"Oh, smeg." Lister groaned.

"Split up again," Aragorn ordered. "You--" he pointed to Rimmer, Cat, and Lister--"get these two situated. The rest of us will go find the other two."
"If there's a way for them to get into trouble," Gandalf muttered, "they'll find it."

And find it they had, in the form of one of Petersen's old whiskey bottles . . .

Holly decided now would be a good time to update the Ship's Log.

"Um . . . not really sure of the date here . . . oh, who cares? We're three million years into deep space, it's not like they even have dates out here, bugger Captain Kirk and them all. Where was I? Oh, yes. Bit of excitement today. Because of some strange time/space/reality shift thingy, we now have nine very strange visitors on board. They must be Lister's relatives, cos four of them are now drunk. The tall, pale, good-looking one and the short hairy one in all the metal are bunked down in one of the crew quarters, and the rest have gone to fetch the two short ones. They were hanging round the karaoke machine earlier, I hope the others can get them away from it in time."
She started to blink off, then remembered something vital she'd forgotten. "Oh, yes. The tall, dark, handsome one is the only one who looks as though he has any brains. I hope he understands quantum physics, cos I don't. Anymore. Message ends."