Author's note: This is sort of a dream that I had and sort of a thing where I put myself into an episode. Sorry, I was bored. Names and sleeping habits have been changed to protect the guilty. Enjoy...
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"Good night, dearling. Sweet dreams."
"I love you, my sweet sexy husband."
"Love you, angel."
My husband snuggled up to me, and I remember sighing...
***************
"Lights!"
I swam in the sheets. I struggled to attach my memory of my husband sleeping next to me to what was obviously NOT my huband's voice snapping a strange command.
Lights blared against my closed eyelids. I saw entire sunbursts come to life against my retinas. Reds and yellows, finally subsiding into a mellow glow. Knowing I was in for a painful surprise, I popped my eyes open anyway.
For a moment, I was blinded by sleep in my eyes and flourescent lights blaring, not to mention my splitting headache. It was like a marching band took up temporary residence in my frontal lobes. It was like an elephant was tap dancing to "Livin' La Vida Loca" up there. It was like a police spotlight sent through a million prisms and then beamed directly into my brain, foregoing the usual route of my eyes first. It was no fun, really.
I finally managed to get my wayward eyes to focus on the brownish blur that had imposed itself between myself and the source of the light. It was a face. A male face. A baby face, with large brown eyes and a cheeky grin. A dreadlock hung between his eyebrows.
"'Ello. Um, not to be forward, but you are in my bunk and totally naked, lady. Is this an invitation? Or shall I simply take a few piccies to make this a Kodak moment?"
I goggled at the face for a moment. Then, I realized that he, whoever he was, was right. I was naked. Fortunately for me, the sheets covered the most incriminating bits. Unfortunately for my new friend, the sheets covered the most incriminating bits. I took in the body that was attached to the face. He, whoever he was, was naked from the waist up. He wore a pair of boxer shorts that had definately seen better days. His body was soft and round, like a giant teddy bear. I had to admit, he was awfully attractive... Suddenly, the voice and face clicked in my sleep addled brain and I felt my eyes open wider, my mouth gape open and a wheezy breath come out.
"Lister? Dave Lister?"
Now his eyes widened a bit.
"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, lady... well, I guess not, really. You're the nekkid one, after all." Only just, I thought. His grin, which was already wide, threatened to take his head off, like a door on hinges.
Unconsciously, I grabbed at the sheets which were all that stood between myself and a grin that could melt butter at fifty paces.
Lister grinned at me again. Across the ship, butter melted.
"My name is Cee Dee." For some reason, I was loathe to give Lister my real name. And Cheezdanish would lead to all sorts of awkward questions, so the shortened version would have to do.
"Well then, Cee Dee, nice to meetcha. I suppose you wouldn't want to tell me how you ended up in me bunk with no pajamas on, do you?"
Gingerly, I shifted into a sitting position, making sure to take the sheets with me. Lister looked gravely dissapointed. I felt mollified.
I know I'm not much to look at. Ok, I'm blonde. Ok, I've got a womanly type body. When it comes to the face, however... well, I've got a face-shaped face. I've got eyes that look like eyes and they aren't in odd places. I've got a nose. It's nose-y and vaguely smallish. My mouth is there, too. My chin doesn't exactly jutt, but is sure as hell isn't a shrinking violet, either. Forget peaches-and-cream complexion. Mine's more like pepperoni and extra mozzerella. And my ears kinda hang there, which is good really, otherwise I'd have no place to hang my glasses.
Glasses? My hand flew to my face. No glasses. No wonder Lister looked so damn blurry. Ya see, along with my face and body, my eyesight ain't so hot either. If you're two feet away and I don't have my glasses on? Forget it. You're officially blurry.
Lister cocked his head inquringly at me. He'd noticed my strange hand gesture, obviously. I shrugged at him, in answer to both questions.
"I really have no idea how I got here. One moment I was asleep in bed, at home, and the next... you were snapping 'Lights' and here I was."
"And the hand to the face?"
"My glasses are gone."
"Do you normally sleep with your glasses on?" He crossed his eyes at me.
"No, of course not!" I laughed, making my own silly face.
"Well, that explains it. You were obviously transported here by some thing or other, just as you were. So, no clothes. No glasses. Et cetera."
I knew that there was one test of this theory. I glanced down at my left hand, the only place on my body that never changed, for of one simple reason.
My wedding band. The symbol of the ever-lasting love that I share with the man who is the most in the world to me.
I never take it off. Not even to shower or do the dishes.
It wasn't there.
Gone. Not even a dent in my finger where the ring should be.
"What is it?" asked Lister
"My ring... My wedding ring..."
Before I could stop them, hot tears were in my eyes. This always happened when I was frustrated or scared. Call it a character flaw. Call it an annoying habit. Call it Ethel, but whenever things don't go my way, I cry.
And now I cried like a child who had lost her favorite dolly.
Before I knew what was going on, Lister's arms were around me and he held me against his shoulders, letting the cry work it's way out of my system. I sobbed against him for a long while, like I could never cry again in my life. Finally, the sobs subsided to sniffles, and the sniffles gave way to gulps. I looked up at Lister and asked, in a very shakey voice, "Do you have a cigarette, Dave?"
"Of course." He was up and across the room to his locker. He pulled out a pack of crumpled cigarettes, came back to the bunk and shook one out to me. Then, to continue the strange, gentleman like behavior, he flicked a lighter in my general direction and lit my cigarette. Then, he lit one for himself.
After a few nervous pulls, I calmed down a bit to say, "Thank you. Ashtray?"
"Nope."
"Oh." I shoulda guessed. A slob like Lister probably would shake his ash all over the floor. Well, when in Rome...
We smoked together in silence for a few minutes. I finished the smoke, and looked to Lister for direction. He handed me a lager can. I dropped the butt into the proffered can, hearing a satisfying hiss. Lister dropped his own in there, stood up, crossed over to the locker again and pulled out a stained tee-shirt. He tossed it at me, grinning.
"For you, fair Cee Dee. Unless you want to wear the sheets like a toga?"
I demurred, while inspecting the shirt. It didn't smell too badly, and for that I was grateful. "I don't suppose that you would have a bra laying around somewhere, would you?"
"What size?" he asked with a mischivious twinkle.
"36 C." I said automatically, before I could censor myself. I realized I'd been had just as Lister burst out laughing and hooting. I could only blush. I hadn't blushed like that since I was in high school.
"How about pants?" I asked with an eyebrow raised.
"First you think I have bras, then you want women's pants? What do yer think I am?" He sounded mock offended, but he was grinning.
My brain made a quick trans-Atlantic jump. Pants were underpants. Trousers were leg coverings.
"Trousers, then? Shorts? Coulottes? Anything?"
He giggled at me again, and crossed back over to the locker. After a moment of searching, he came up with a pair of khaki trousers with big pockets on the legs. And only one curry stain.
A man after my own heart.
"They may be a bit big, but they don't fit me anymore, for some odd reason." He patted his stomache. I giggled in turn. "I'll be just outside the door, ok? Holler if you need anything."
"Ok. Thanks, Dave."
He must have heard the genuine thanks in my voice, because instead of grinning at me again, he just smiled gently and was out the door.
I untangled myself from the sheets and hopped off the top bunk, shivering at the sudden coldness of the floor on my bare feet. I wondered briefly why Lister always complained about having the top bunk, and realized that he complained because of Rimmer. It had nothing to do with actual stuff. Frankly, I've always loved the top bunk. I had a feeling that Lister was the same way. But, of course, he had to bitch at Rimmer for some reason. Shrugging, I slipped on the tee-shirt, feeling awkward due to the lack of over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder support. Just as I was zipping up the trousers (which, I might add, were WAY too large in the waist area, but it was ok, as my ample hips held them up...) I heard the door open with a woosh.
I spun towards the sound, figuring that it was Lister popping in to try to catch me au natural. "Dammit, Lister, this isn't funny! I'm a married wo... man..."
It wasn't Lister. It was Rimmer.
Rimmer, "H" emblazoned across his forehead, wearing his red Space Corp uniform from series 5. The really, really, really sexy one.
Ok, I'm married. I love my husband very much. But this was Rimmer standing across from me. He of the tall, brown haired, hazel eyed splendor.
Did I mention that I love my husband? Did I mention that my husband has all the previously mentioned sexy features? Did I mention that tall, brown haired, light eyed guys are and always have been my type? Did I mention that I have a crush on Rimmer because he kinda looks like my husband?
I was in trouble.
Rimmer and I stared at each other for a long moment, both of us totally lost for words. He recovered first.
"Who are you?"
Oh, that accent...
"I'm Cee Dee. I'm, uh, kinda lost."
"I'm Arnold J. Rimmer, Second Technician, SSC, BSC." I wondered why he didn't offer his hand. Oh, yeah. Hologram Rimmer. Series 5 or maybe the first episode of 6. So no handshaking here. But he was looking at me like I was the last thin mint in the bottom of the cookie box. He had his hands behind his back and his smirk nearly reached his ears. And his eyes...
Oh, those eyes. They were looking directly into mine. Oh, smeg...
"I know. Silver Swimming Certificate, Bronze Swimming Certificate. J for Judas. You want everybody to call you Ace."
His eyes narrowed for a moment. "Ok, what did that gimboid tell you about me?"
"Huh?" Oh. Of course. He thought Lister had been knocking him in front of me. "Nothing. I just..." Oh boy. How to explain this? "I know who you are."
He blinked at me. "How?"
"That's a damn good question. Um..."
Fortunately, I was saved by the bell. Rather, I was saved by a timely entrance by Lister, who came rushing in, out of breath. "Rimmer! Don't... Oh." He stopped when he saw that I was fully dressed and that Rimmer and I had already met.
"Waiting right outside the door, huh?" I asked, grinning.
"I had to go to the loo," he said with an embarrassed smirk. I could only laugh.
Rimmer, meanwhile, was looking at me. Studying me. Like I was an astro-engineer's text book. But far more interesting. I gulped, and then I did something outrageously stupid.
I turned on my "movie star" smile and I winked at him.
I flirted with him! Gah! I should have known better. I knew that this man, when given an inch by the opposite sex, would take the whole smegging mile and run with it!
A word of advice, ladies. Never, never, NEVER flirt with a man who is desperate. Especially if you like him. You will never hear the end of it.
Yep, there were the fingers through the hair and the nostrils dilating and the eyes widening. He was preening for me. Lister saw this. He glanced at me, eyes wide with horror and shock. And a silent question. Did I want him to save me?
Good question, Dave. Lemme get back to you on that one.
Rimmer was suddenly all smiles and eyebrows and courteous guestures. I wondered briefly why he didn't just try to grab me and haul me into his bunk for a quick snog. Then I remembered. He was a hologram. Since he was in his red uniform, I assumed that I had dropped in pre-Legion. No solid hologram light bee yet. So I was saved from my folly.
Or so I thought.
"Lister, pull a chair up for our esteemed guest. Have you no manners at all?" He watched as Lister pulled up a chair for me. Lister glanced at me again, all but barfing in his unspoken desire to save me from Rimmer. I very subtly shook my head "no" at Lister, who, for his part, simply shrugged at me.
"On yer own fool head be it..." said Lister aloud.
"What?" asked Rimmer.
"Oh, nothing," sniggered Lister, and swung his body up onto his bunk.
I just stuck my tongue out at him. For some odd reason, Lister and I had a strange bond growing between us. Maybe he recognized a kindred spirit in slobbyness. Maybe the crying jag had made us instant friends, even though we had barely spoken a hundred words. Maybe he was like this with everybody. (Except Rimmer...) But I knew that he cared about me and my well being.
Maybe it was because I was the first woman he'd seen in almost 5 years...
For whatever reason, I couldn't help but feel Lister's eyes upon me as Rimmer tried to flirt with me, but clumsily.
"You're quite young, then?" were the first words out of Rimmer's mouth when we both settled down.
"Not quite as young as I look. I'm 25." I said with a chuckle.
"And you're American?"
"Yeah. California girl by birth and nature."
"And you're a woman?"
"Last I checked..."
Silence. Well, near silence. Lister was making gagging sounds from up on his bunk.
"Do you like to play Risk?" This came out in a rush. As if he were afraid of what my response would be.
"As a matter of fact, yes I do."
Rimmer stared at me for a moment. "You're joking?" he whispered.
I couldn't help myself. I laughed as I said, "Yes, Rimmer, I do like to play Risk, but I don't memorize every throw of the dice and write it down in my Risk journal, if that's what you want to know."
Oh, way to go, smartass. Knowing what I know of Rimmer, that was exactly the wrong thing to say. I couldn't help myself. As sympathetic as I am to Rimmer when I watch his adventures, the television doesn't do justice to what a smeghead he actually is. I could see why Lister goads Rimmer as he does. He's an easy target.
Just as I used to be. Until I got a few books under my belt and a couple of nasty shocks that NO young woman should have to endure...
I suppose that's why I've got a thing for Rimmer. He's like myself in many respects. No, I'm not carreer obsessed, or cowardly, or snide. But I'm an easy target, easily frustrated. Bullies sense this.
I remember one time in the seventh grade. I was just beginning to hit puberty. Boys facinated me, and at the same time repulsed me to no end. I was still a child, though. Many childish habits stuck to me like taffy sticks to your fingers. For example, I hadn't learned yet, that, when a young lady goes to retrieve an object from the floor, you shouldn't bend over at the waist to fetch it. Rather, you bend your knees, get into a crouching position and then get the item.
What you don't know can't hurt you, right?
Riiiiiight.
I bent over at the waist to pick up my pencil that had rolled onto the floor. Leaving my rear end sticking up towards the ceiling. The young man (for lack of a better description...) who sat behind me in class took that as an invitation. He walked up behind me and, with his whole hand, fondled me in a way that no 12 year old should know how to do.
I didn't know what was going on at first. I startled into a standing position, pencil forgotton. Then, this little man decided that he liked it better when I was bent over, and gave me a shove to indicate that that's what I had to do again.
Well, never let it be said that, once a bully gets onto my scent, I don't try to outmaneuver him.
I took a step forwards, away from the prying hands. Thinking that this would be enough to give this guy the hint.
Wrong again.
He grabbed my shoulder. So, I did what my dad taught me to do in this situation.
I punched the creep right in the kisser.
Keep in mind that I was approximately 4'10" at the time, weighing in at just barely 100 pounds. This boy was a half foot taller than me and must've outweighed me by a good 35 pounds. My fist slammed into his nose at slightly below the speed of sound. He went down like a sack of potatoes.
WHAM!
Of course, later in the principal's office, there was all sorts of trouble. Until my side of the story came out.
I was sent home early, due to my excitment and shakes. He was suspended for 3 weeks.
But I digress. Remembering sexual harassment from 13 years ago doesn't help with the here and now. Right now, I had to deal with a crestfallen Rimmer, whom I had just been very, very mean to.
"I'm sorry, Rimmer. I didn't mean it."
"It's all right." But I could tell that it wasn't. Time for a subject change.
"So, where's the Cat and Kryten? I haven't seen either of them yet." Hint, hint...
I got the subject change, but not exactly as I wanted...
"How do you know so much about us?" came from Lister as he swung himself back off the bunk.
Good question, Dave. Lemme get back to you on that one.
Dammit, this wasn't going according to plan. I had already screwed up by admitting that I knew their names. And here I was, some anomolous girl stuck on a mining ship three million years from Earth, and I had no smegging way to explain anything! If I did tell the truth, they'd think I was crazy. I'd be put into the deep freeze unit until they could figure out what to do with me. Or worse, put on Floor 13. (Wait, no, that's Series 8. This has to be Series 5. So they don't know about Floor 13 yet. So that's good, I guess... And I can't mention it. It'd totally fuck with causality. So watch your smegging mouth, Cheezdanish.) (I'm in a lot of trouble. You know that list of character and feature flaws I listed earlier? Well, add to them a big fat mouth.)
Once again, Fate smiled upon me, and I was saved from answering incriminating questions by the arrival of Kryten and the Cat.
Now, Kryten smells funny. Like a bad batch of WD40. Have you ever been in an airport, and when the planes take off, you sniff the air? And you get a whiff of that kinda gassy, ozone-y smell? Just like that. Until they invent Smell-o-Vision, you'll never know the wonder that is Kryten's stench. Lister and Rimmer ignored it, so I did my best to ignore it as well. It was tough, though, lemme tell you.
I couldn't tell you what the Cat smelled like, because Kryten's smell totally overpowered my olfactory glands. The Cat took one look at me, and his eyes popped out of his head. He looked quite happy to see me.
Kryten took one look at me and his eyes popped out of his head. Literally. He had to chase them across the floor.
I began to wonder absently whether or not these guys were insane. I mean, yeah, I was the first woman they'd seen in a while, but I'm really not all that and a big bag of chips. Maybe they were staring at my tits...
Naaaaah...
The Cat made a swift transition. One moment, he was at the door, the next he had his hand in mine and was waggling his eyebrows at me.
"Well, helloooo, there. I'm the Cat. And you are sexy with a capital SEX," he purred. "You wanna go have sex now, or shall we have dinner first?"
I tried to supress a smirk and said, "You don't even know my name."
"Oh, so you want a committment, is that it? Well, forget it, babe. You're too fast for this cat!" He dropped my hand, crossed to the mirror, and began to sing quietly to himself. I glanced at Lister, who grinned at me. I gave him the thumbs up sign. One hurdle down...
Kryten, meanwhile, had gotten hold of his eyes and had replaced them in his sockets. He blinked at me a few times. I watched him cautiously.
I knew that Kryten was the one that I had to really watch. He was the most logical one. He was the one who could consider me a threat to the crew. If there was ever a mention of putting me in deep freeze, it would most likely come from him. He had no gonads with which to think. I couldn't use my dubious sexual charms to sway him.
So, I'd have to resort to subtlety.
I stuck my hand out at the mechanoid and said, "Hi. My name is Cee Dee. I don't want to sleep with Lister in any way, shape or form."
Like I said, subtlety...
They all goggled at me for a moment, then Rimmer burst out laughing. "Well, Listy-poo, there you have it. Indisputable proof the you repel the opposite sex!"
Lister glared at Rimmer for a second, then turned a hangdog look to me. I made the universal sign for I didn't really mean it. I winked at him. He got it in one, and grinned at me.
Fortunately, no one else noticed it.
Kryten bustled his way towards Lister and said, in a whisper audible all the way to Earth, "Don't worry, Mr. Lister. You're too good for a woman who dresses like a man, anyway." I pretended outrage. Seemed safest, really. The best way to make friends with Kryten was to leave a mess for him to clean up. If I was on board for long enough, there'd be messes aplenty for him to wax enthusiastic about.
"Why don't we do something about that, anyway?" This sounded promising. I turned towards Rimmer with a question mark in my eyes. "Well, we can't have you going around looking like Lister, now can we? How about you and I go down to the Officer's Deck and find you some clothes that are suitable."
"I'll go!" piped up the Cat.
"Me too, eh?" said Lister.
"I'll accompany you as well, Miss Dee." Kryten wanted to follow me where I was going? Not good. He wanted to keep an eye on me and then bitch about my habits. I had to get on his good side, but fast.
"Actually, Kryten, I was wondering if you'd do me a teensy little favor?" I asked.
"What's that, Ma'am?"
"I'm totally starving! Could you cook me dinner? I'll take whatever's on board."
Kryten looked as if his head were about to explode... and then he smiled. "Of course, Ma'am! Anything you like!" He spun on heel and waddled out the door.
Rimmer leaned in close to me and whispered, "We've got curry and urine re-cyke. You're better off starving, on this ship..."
I turned to him and looked him in the eyes.
Shiver...
"I like curry." I whispered to him. "My husband and I..."
My husband. Three million years in the past, and I had no way to... The tears started again.
The Cat looked mildly concerned. Which, I suppose, meant that he cared. Lister was at my side again, his hand on my shoulder. But Rimmer...
Rimmer moved as far away from me as possible. Like I had some extremely contagious debilitating disease.
"Perhaps you had better take her to look for clothes, Lister. I'll be... over there..." And, like a shot, he was gone.
I stared in astonished amazement and hurt. A few tears and that was his reaction? Bolting like a newborn goat? I turned my face towards Lister, confused. He looked down at me with concern.
"He's a smeghead. He's an emotional retard. He's a total gimboid."
"He's also rude, ugly, stupid... I could go on like this for a while if you like..." said the Cat.
I sniffed back my tears and forced a laugh. Still. Why? Why did he run like that? Was it because I'm that much more unattractive when I snivel? Or because I'm an emotional retard too? I had no idea.
Forget it. I wanted for better clothes. Rimmer and his smeggyness could wait.
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"Not bad. Not too bad at all if I do say so meself."
I did a quick pirouette in front of the full length mirror on the bulkhead. Instead of Lister's smeggy, curry stained wardrobe, I was now fully funtional in a set of dark purple leather pants, with a matching lace-up bustier. There were even a pair of combat boots just my size. I'd never looked so good. Not even when I'd been done up to look like Marilyn Monroe. (Another long story. Let's just say it involved me, an all night music video shoot, and a magical dissapearing bikini top...)
"Dave, where did you get these? These are a-smegging-mazing!"
"Well, I raided the officer's quarters, and these were in a stasis trunk. I think they were meant as a Halloween costume... but on you, they work."
"No kidding. I just wish I could look this good other times."
"You looked pretty good nekkid..."
"Oh, shush, you." I studied myself in the mirror again. My hair was still rather ruffled from my bed time, but I have the sort of hair cut that looks better when it's messy. Did it on purpose. 'Cuz I'm a lazy git. My make up was still slightly intact, but I'd need a touch up very soon. Gotta ask if Lister's fashion sense extended to a bit of foundation and mascara...
Kryten's voice came up on the speakers.
"Mr. Lister, sir, I believe we've found a suitable moon for scavenge. Permission to take Starbug and scout?"
"Hold on, Kryts." Lister turned to me. "I think our honeymoon is up. I gotta go down to the drive room." He extended the crook of his arm to me. "Join me?"
"You're going like that?" I guffawed.
"Why not?" For he was still dressed in his boxer shorts.
"At least put on a robe, for Pete's sake!"
"Oh, so you'd make me cover up the statue David because his knob shows, eh?"
"Michelangelo should be so lucky..." I retorted with a cocked eyebrow. And he blushed. I made Lister blush! Payback is sweet... He reached into his closet and grabbed a white cotton robe and threw it on. Then he grabbed my hand and escorted me to the door.
Now, where have I seen that robe before...?
*******************
In the drive room, the Cat was lounging on a table and Kryten was arguing with Rimmer. I really had no desire to see Rimmer at the moment, but even so, my heart skipped a beat. Double when Rimmer saw my new outfit and faltered in his non-stop abuse of the mechanoid.
Kryten took that lapse as an opportunity and jumped back in.
"Mr. Rimmer, please! It is imperative that you accompany me to this planetoid! I cannot go alone, and since Lister and the Cat are humanoid, they could be exposed to environments leathal to them! You have to come!"
"Forget it, you clinking, clanking collection of colliginous junk! I am not, repeat NOT, going down there!"
"I'll go with you, Kryten."
The crew turned to me like I had sprouted cabbages in my ears.
"What?"
"Ma'am, I just stated why you can't accompany us! You could be exposed to radiation! You could die!"
"Not if I stay in the 'Bug. C'mon, I've never been on another planet before! I'll be real quiet and not make any trouble and I'll cook for you on the way..."
"Well then, I'm going too," stated Rimmer abruptly.
"Me too."
"Count me in!" Lister and the Cat were suddenly all smiles and enthusiasm. All over little old me? Preposterous. But fun...
"I'm afraid not, Listy-poo. You and the Cat need to remain on board to stand watch. As your superior officer, I order you to stay behind!"
"Aw, c'mon, Rimmer... Just seconds ago you didn't want to go at all!"
"Duty before pleasure, Lister. And that ends this discussion."
"Um. I really don't want to be a bother... I was kidding, after all..."
Rimmer turned to me, smiling. I smiled back. Couldn't help myself. Lister rolled his eyes.
"M'dear, you are never a bother. Come, Kryten. Off to another planet we go!"
He spun on heel and was gone toward the landing bay. Lister made a disgusted noise and also left, with the Cat close on his heels. Obviously to try to talk Rimmer out of taking me on the excursion. Which left me in the room alone with Kryten.
Kryten studied me for a moment. I regarded him back. Finally, after several moments of oppressive silence, he spoke.
"Ma'am. I don't know where you come from. I don't know anything about you. And yet you seem to think that you can waltz in here and be considered a member of the crew simply because you've got all those in and out bits that men find so nice."
"Kryten..."
"Please, ma'am, let me finish! I just want you to know that I'll be watching you very closely."
"Why?"
This seemed to take him aback. "Why?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Well, I..." Something seemed to click in his mechanoid brain. "Because you're a woman."
"Yes. I know."
"How very odd..."
"Odd? That I'm a woman?"
"No, ma'am. Odd that I've never noticed this in my core programming before."
"This what?"
"Buried deep in my database is an algorithim that dictates my response to women. It is not a pleasant one. I have been programmed to react with jealousy whenever a woman is in the general vicinity. Why it's odd is because my creator was a woman."
"Well, Kryten, I think that explains a lot. In general, women are jealous people..." Except myself, of course. Not a jealous bone in my body... well, maybe one or two. Or possibly more...
Kryten stared at me. Then his eyes went blank for a moment. Then his head slumped. He looked as if he were shutting himself down.
"Kryten? Kryten?!?"
Oh, god, I broke him...
I reached forward to try and touch his shoulder. Just millimeters away, he woke up again. I jumped back, startled.
"Do not panic, ma'am. I was simply altering that particular piece of code. Welcome aboard."
I blinked.
"No kidding?"
"No kidding indeed, ma'am. Come, we have a planetoid to explore."
And so saying, he took me by the hand, (very gently) and led me down to the landing bay.
***************************
It was strange, but everything seemed like it was going my way. Every time a question about my origin came up, it was shunted aside for more pressing business. Every time a particularly unpleasant circumstance reared it's ugly head, it would simply go away. Like Rimmer and the crying jag. I saw him not twenty minutes later, and it was as if it was totally forgotten. And Kryten and his suspicion and jealousy. I knew, I just knew, that his response to Kochanski in later series would affect me. And by simply shutting down that particular piece of code, he welcomed me aboard and invited me down on an "away mission." None of this was making any sense at all. If this really were the Red Dwarf posse, they would have really encountered me as a brain sucking alien. Or a deranged piece of military ordnance. Or something equally nasty. Because these poor smeggers never get any breaks. So why am I so easily assimilated? Why is this universe making an exception for me?
If I had figured out sooner what episode I was caught in, I woulda guessed.
Ya see, the universe wasn't giving the boys an even break. The universe was about to piss in my cornflakes, too.
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AN: More to come soon. I swear. I know I haven't updated Parole in a really really long time. It's cuz I'm stuck. I wrote a nasty last chapter, and haven't the foggiest notion how to get out of it. I'm trying, tho. God knows I'm trying.