AN: This story takes place in the fourth series, and is slightly AU (though I suppose you could make that argument for any fanfic, couldn't you?). Thanks again to everyone who's given me feedback; it's always appreciated.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, and I'm not making any money from this, so please don't sue me.

Becoming Your Voice

"I know it looks bad," Rimmer said to Lister as they sat in a cold, dark jail cell, "but we've been in worse scrapes than this and got out all right."

Lister pulled his coat tighter; he didn't look convinced. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Well, there was…" Rimmer stopped. No, that situation hadn't been too bad, actually. "What about the time-? No, maybe not. How about-? Well, that wasn't really worse, was it? All right, fine, we haven't been in worse scrapes, but we've been in scrapes at least this bad."

"That's very comforting, Rimmer," Lister said. "If I ever have to fight somebody, and it looks like it's going to be a rough match…"

Rimmer leaned in hopefully. "Yes?"

"Talk to the other guy before the fight," Lister said. "Five minutes with you and I think he'd give up."

"My talks would be perfectly inspirational if you had the right mindset," Rimmer said.

"Well, excuse me if I'm not spurred on to new heights by the thought of my own death," Lister said.

At times like these, Rimmer was glad he was already dead. "Come on, Listy! If you were a great military strategist, you'd be chomping at the bit right now!"

"Well, I'm a third technician, and I wanna go home," Lister said. "You're the one who plays all those war games. Do you have a plan?"

Rimmer took a deep breath, trying to bluff his way through a plan so Lister would be wrong. But Lister was right; Rimmer didn't have a workable plan. He didn't even have a bluffable plan.

"No," Rimmer said. "But look on the bright side. Maybe they're nice deranged service droids."

"Rimmer, nice deranged service droids wouldn't chase us into a jail wielding chainsaws and screaming 'Tapioca pudding!' over and over," Lister said.

"Then maybe they've forgotten we're here," Rimmer said.

"Great. So we can starve to death instead of being ripped apart," Lister said. Then something occurred to him. "Why don't you just walk through the walls? Get back to Red Dwarf, tell them I'm here, and form a rescue party."

"I have a little riddle for you, Lister," Rimmer said. "When I try to walk through walls, what part of me will bounce off the walls, discontinuing my program and, in effect, killing me?"

Lister's face clouded with disappointment. "Your light bee."

"My light bee," Rimmer said. "Exactly."

Lister sighed. "What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know," Rimmer said, shaking his head.

The door slid open, and a service droid entered, holding a weapon. "One of you will come with us."

"Why just one?" Lister asked uneasily.

"We must ensure your inseams are the same," the service droid said.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid the Space Corps makes us follow the buddy system," Rimmer said. "We have to travel in pairs at all times. I'd love to go with you by myself, but…"

"ONE OF YOU WILL COME WITH US!" the service droid screeched, waving its weapon.

Rimmer was trying very hard not to panic. If he went first, maybe they wouldn't hurt Lister, and they couldn't hurt Rimmer. But if they figured out he was a hologram, it was only a matter of time before they found his light bee, and if they decided to smash it—

"I'll go," Lister said.

Rimmer stared at Lister, aghast. Duty said Rimmer was the superior officer, and a dead one besides, so he should protect any officer under him. Honor said that Rimmer should reciprocate Lister's noble action and volunteer to go first. But cowardice said that Rimmer should stay quiet and let Lister go first, and cowardice was always the loudest voice in Rimmer's head. So Rimmer did nothing.

Lister left the room without looking back.