Lister, Rimmer and Susan burst into the corridor, their pounding footsteps echoing around them.

"Does this happen a lot?" Susan panted as they found themselves in the hangar.

"All the time," Lister shouted over his shoulder.

"Usually a false alarm, though," Rimmer added, bringing up the rear.

Soon, they flew through the cockpit doors and Rimmer clunked down in his seat. Susan stood behind his chair and held on to the back of it.

"We've hit a sudden field of space junk, sirs. I thought we'd better navigate through it in Starbug if we want to engage in our usual activities."

Lister said, "Oh smeg!" as he flopped down. They maneuvering out of the hangar and into the flying wrecks of shuttles, trawlers, and rockets.

"It's not Lister's old laundry this time."

"Looks like parts of derelict ships," said Cat in disgust.

"Time to dodge, park, and loot!" Lister said as if it was something quite every day.

"Is looting in outerspace illegal too?"

"Never stopped us before," Rimmer said casually as they avoided colliding with half an engine.

"The GELFs* nearly did a couple times though."

"Well, this isn't their zone."

"We'd better keep a sharp eye out for them, sirs."

"What are GELFs?"

"Lister's people."

"Go put yourself in the airlock and flush, gimboid."

"You were married to one once."

"Doesn't count. – Derelict off the port bow!" They all leaned sharply to the right in unison and then they were rapidly jerked the other way as they were slammed by another chunk of spacecraft. Susan nearly fell and had to grip Rimmer's shoulder to avoid falling onto his lap. She gasped almost inaudibly, straightened herself up quickly but left a hand on Rimmer's shoulder. Rimmer cleared his throat awkwardly. They navigated this way and that through the floating minefield of old spaceships.

"There's no point in even looking at the radar screen anymore," Lister said, exasperated as he swerved round a rough-edged strip of metal that appeared to be ripped off the side of a very large trawler.

"Looks like a bent pontoon strut," Susan said, trying to make sense of it all.

"That would have torn us right open. Cat, can you smell anything?"

"Other than your socks?"

"Come on!" Lister barked.

"OK, OK, I'm gettin' something off the starboard bow."

"What is?"

"Smells like a plastic cheeseburger."

"There you go, Lister's socks. Just ignore it." Rimmer interjected.

"Let's follow it! Maybe it'll lead us to a ship we can loot." Lister maneuvered Starbug hard right.

"We can't try to land now," Rimmer protested.

"I happen to agree with Mr. Lister, sir. It would be wise to land as soon as possible."

"I outrank you and my vote is that we continue to navigate until we reach a clearing."

"Shut it, Rimmer!" Lister shouted. A cracked hull slammed into their port side as they swung out trying to miss it.

"And," Rimmer added to Kryten, "You're forgetting Space Corps Directive 163860"

"Space Corps Directive 163860," Kryten said thoughtfully, "An officer with expert yo-yoing ability is automatically outranked by any officer or engineer who can juggle fruit."

"No no no!" They met another piece of debris which shut Rimmer up for good.

"Well, I'm drivin' and I say we follow that smell." They shot down a sort of tunnel made by the derelicts and narrowly missed several very dangerous-looking hunks of metal.

"I see an asteroid up ahead. Kryten, can you get some stats on it?"

"One moment, sir. Rich in minerals, extensive cavern systems, possible life-forms. What do you say, Cat?"

"Smells confirmed."

"What about the life-forms?" Rimmer said nervously.

"We'll have to risk it. 10 G-gooks* and closing."

"We'd better strap you in," Rimmer said to Susan as he got up and let her sit down. She buckled up and missed the puzzled looks from the rest of the crew. Rimmer held tightly onto the chair.

"5 G-gooks and closing. Brace for impact!"

With a hideously loud skid they landed in the opening of a great cavern. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Lister hit the yoke lightly and it spun round.

"Phew!" Everyone was silent as they unbuckled themselves. "You know the rules; there are none," Lister added as he walked past Susan and Rimmer, trying not to look at either of them.

"Except avoiding Emohawks, explosives and any kind of squid," Kryten added as he plodded to the scanner table following Cat.

"Come on, smeg head," he called out after he headed through the door.

Susan's knowledge of Rimmer's self-serving and cowardly nature made her rather uncomfortable in light of his recent spasm of...dare she even think it...caring. But she tried to act as if she wasn't aware of the behavioral dichotomy and thanked him.

"Well, I can't really be hurt, physically, so..." His pomposity had packed up. Where is it when I need it? he thought.

"Good decision," Susan said, instantly regretting it, grimacing as soon as she had her back to Rimmer. Out of Starbug, they all spoke softly in the echo-camber that was the asteroid cave.

"The breathing atmosphere appears relatively safe, but I suggest we proceed with caution, Mr. Lister. These life-signs may be GELFs, simulants, or even unemployed hobbyists. Based on our encounters, I posit that our chances of meeting a friendly life-form are 24,962: 1 against. About the same odds as finding nutrition in a canteen sandwich."

"Thanks, Kryten," Lister said, readying his bazookoid.* "Any nasal readings, Cat?"

"I'm still getting that plastic and cheeseburger smell," Cat said as he switched on a light.

"I think I can smell that too."

They made their way deeper into the cavern and the light from Starbug became increasingly dimmer. The light Cat was holding created long shadows. The dripping along the rocky tunnel's surface and their footfalls were the only sounds they heard for several yards.

"Hey!" Lister shouted. He was shushed until the echo died away. "Look," he whispered, pointing to the far left side of the tunnel. Cat shone the light in the direction Lister was pointing. Haphazardly stacked up were nearly 50 old white plastic crates. Printed on the tops and the sides in a dark red font were the letters: N.A.S.A. Cat, Kryten, Lister, and Rimmer looked at Susan. She approached the creates with supreme confusion and trepidation.

"I don't get it," she said above a whisper. She reached out and touched the corrugated surface. It was very cold to the touch and her head was spinning with astonishment. "I never had this many supply cases on my craft. They just wouldn't fit." Susan shook her head.

"Then where did they come from?" Lister said, his eyes fixed on the white cases. Suddenly, there was a familiar click behind them. They all whipped round to see a shadowed figure in a cavity in the tunnel wall. His face was grizzled and scarred, his shaved head was tattooed, and a blood-red cape fluttered behind him. He was holding a bazookoid.

"I don't care where they came from," he said in a grumbling voice, "But they'll take me far."

"OK, pal," Lister said, squaring off, "Guns down. We just want to cut a deal. These crates belong to our confederate's people."

"Well, now they belong to me."

"Well, we disagree," Lister said, taking a step forward.

"Dave," Susan said, "it's not worth it."

"She's right; it's not." They all faced the bazookoid. Rimmer gulped. Susan took a deep breath. Cat blinked. Kryten didn't move an inch. Lister stood his ground.

[Anything with * is not my idea]