It was incomprehensible. Arnold J. Rimmer was a Success, a success in his career, in his personal life, and evolutionarily. Even if the smug bastard blew up tomorrow, his genes would live on in his children, while Lister languished in the lower decks, pretending not to care that his despised bunkmate had not only married, but procreated with the only woman he'd ever truly loved.

How had it all come to this?

Well, he knew how it had happened. He even knew why. And that was the agony of it. The aching, bitter agony. Because the truth was—if Lister was to be openly, brutally honest with himself—the raw, bare, hollowed out truth of the matter was…he couldn't blame either of them.

Lister's hand tightened around his screwdriver as he loosened the access panel on the engineering control board, aiming to disconnect the red light that warned the crew of a radiation leak.

No. No, there was no way he could have prevented this. This was out and out backstabbing betrayal, practically Shakespearean in its devious depths, as Kochanski herself might have said. Krissie knew full well how he felt about her—he'd told her enough times. And Rimmer—

It was Rimmer's fault he'd been given that promotion to second technician. He'd been fine slouching at the bottom rung, no responsibility to anyone. Then Lieutenant Smeghead Rimmer had stepped in with the suggestion Lister be given his old job as head of Z Shift. The Captain had agreed and Lister found himself forced to take roll call every morning and keep track of maintenance logs, crew complaints, and a host of other tedious, bureaucratic nonsense. Rimmer had acted like he was passing on some great legacy, but really it was a nothing position and Lister and the Captain both knew it.

Still, it hadn't been too bad at first. He'd played the role of Rimmer's best man at the wedding as Kochanski wanted, laughing to himself when Rimmer leaned in with an awkward little peck of a kiss at the end of the ceremony, his pasty complexion flushing beet red when she snogged him back. That was the kind of man she was getting. If it had been Lister standing there, he'd have taken the opportunity to show all the guests just how lucky he was to be kissing Kristine Kochanski. It was her loss, man. Her loss.

Over the next few days, he felt he'd gotten over the worst of his dejection and was starting to get used to the idea of Rimmer and Kochanski being together, and being happy. Being head of Z Shift was a joke, but he did get some satisfaction out of knowing he was doing a better job with it than Rimmer had ever done. His technicians liked him. They socialized together in the evenings, went out drinking and partying in the pubs and clubs. It was a good feeling knowing he was in charge, and he was popular. But, somehow, it wasn't enough.

As the weeks went on, Lister began to grow dissatisfied. The empty bunk below his seemed to mock him. Rimmer had moved up from the lower decks, why couldn't he?

Slowly, the seed of an ambition began to take root in Lister's heart, the ambition to pass the officer's exam and prove to Krissie that he wasn't the bum she thought he was. He was a winner, a somebody. He'd become an officer and find himself the best-looking, most intelligent woman on the ship and show that two-faced Mrs. Judas exactly what she was missing. And wouldn't that be sweet.

The very next evening, Lister turned down his team's invitation to go out drinking and stayed in his room, where he sat at Rimmer's slanted architect desk and poured through a well-thumbed astronavigation textbook under Rimmer's pink student lamp.

It was a singularly frustrating experience. The words in the textbook appeared to be written in English, but strung together the way they were, they didn't make any logical sense. The equations were long and filled with peculiar squiggles and symbols Lister had never seen before. And yet, somehow, Rimmer had managed to cram enough of this crap into his weasel brain to come out an officer. Well, if he could do it, Lister could do it better. It was only a matter of time.

Six weeks later, Lister sat for the astronavigation exam. He hadn't leaned much from his evenings of stubborn revision, but he figured he could BS his way through as he'd often done in school.

He'd failed.

So, he'd redoubled his efforts. He told himself he'd failed because he didn't take the test seriously. This time, he'd do better because he'd tackle his revision in an organized, professional, adult way like an organized, professional, adult person. The type of person Krissie admired.

He cleaned up his act, quit smoking and drinking, reorganized his shift with an eye toward increased efficiency and started making up timetables detailing their duties and break times. He also made up a revision timetable for himself. Six weeks later, he strode confidently into the exam room.

And failed again.

It was getting ridiculous now, and a little frightening. He'd done nothing but pour through textbooks for months on end, and still he'd failed.

So, he hit the books again, this time with a single-minded determination that could put an obsessed bounty hunter with a grudge to shame. His friends abandoned him, he became short-tempered with his team over petty details. People he didn't even know started calling him 'smeghead' to his face.

One night, well after 2 a.m., Lister looked up from his revision and got a shock. Rimmer was sitting at his old desk under his student's pink light, reading a book. Lister stood up in surprise, about to ask what the smeg he thought he was doing there, when he realized what had happened.

That hadn't been Rimmer he'd seen. It had been a mirror. The man at the desk in the overstarched uniform, drowning in textbooks and looseleaf notes…was himself.

And then, it all came clear. Cassandra, Kochanski, Rimmer, everything. His frayed, overtired brain snapped in the middle, and the whole, sordid picture came into focus.

This was Cassandra's revenge. She'd seen it. She'd planned it. She'd caused it to happen. To get back at Lister for killing her, that devious computer had arranged for Lister and Rimmer to swap places, to swap lives. Rimmer got Kochanski, the children, the life he'd always dreamed of, while Lister…

Lister had become a failure. A pompous, trumped up smeghead with no friends, no prospects, no girlfriend. He couldn't even pin his shortcomings on his parents, as Rimmer always had, because he didn't have any parents. There was no way around it, no one else to blame.

Except Cassandra.

It was no coincidence Rimmer had been promoted on April Fools Day, no mere chance that, before the day was done, his twins had been born and Kochanski had accepted his proposal of marriage. It was Cassandra's way of rubbing it in, of sending Lister a message direct from Silicon Hell.

Well, he wouldn't let her get away with it.

Lister closed the access panel, put away his tools, and headed for the lift that would take him down to the stasis pods. Another three million years in deep space. Another eternity frozen in time. The re-built Red Dwarf version of Holly would let him out of stasis once the radiation levels cleared. Cat would be gone, and Kryten too, most likely. Everyone he'd ever known or cared about would be dead. But he would survive. And someday, somehow, he'd find her again. His Kochanski, not that faithless copy. Together, they'd find their way back to Earth. And then, they'd have their happily ever after, just as it always should have been.

The stasis door was closing when Lister's Holly watch came to sudden life.

"Oh, right!" the senile computer said. "It's April Fool's Day again! I meant to tell you all last year, but I guess I forgot. Or, was it the year before...?"

"Forgot what, Hol?" Lister asked impatiently, using his polished boot to keep the door from closing all the way. "An' make it quick."

"You know that computer that told the future?"

"Cassandra, yeah. What about her?"

"Well, there was no Cassandra," he said. "I made her up, her an all those prophesies, jus' like I made up Queeg, remember?"

Lister blinked.

"Yeah," Holly rambled on, oblivious to the strange look creeping into Lister's eyes. "I'd been racking my brains for years tryin' to outdo that gag until I spotted that abandoned ship. It wasn't the future I told, it was all jus' supposition and the power of suggestion. I even printed out that false mission directive an' everything. Pretty good wheeze, mate, don't you think? The way people can hear a 'prophesy' and make it come true all on their own?"

Lister stared out into the dim blankness of the corridor for a long, silent moment. Then, calmly, he unstrapped Holly's watch from his wrist and tossed it away. A second later, the door closed completely, with Lister sealed safely inside.

"Well, I thought it was funny," Holly said.

The End

If you're reading this, I'd really appreciate a word or two to let me know what you thought of my story! Comments, opinions, and constructive criticism are always welcome. :)