a/n: And now I'm just being cruel. (This would be elsewhere too were yahoo groups working.)
"Anyone who displays behaviour deemed out of character or un-Rimmerlike is punished by death."
-Rimmer, Rimmerworld
Technically he was the prince. He was the son of the current ruler and one of his concubines. The first born from the ruler. He had been the Heir. Technically.
In fact, for the last twenty odd years he had been the heir, expected to follow in his father's footsteps.
But he had a secret.
He.. he wasn't afraid. Of anything. He lacked cowardess, which was a crime here. A capital crime.
But the prospect of death didn't scare him.
As he stood on the platform, tied to a pole and flames licking at his feet, he remember what had gotten him here.
He had had a plan.
He was going to pretend to be a sniveling little maggot until he got the throne. Then things were going to change.
But, in true Rimmer style. He'd buggered it up.
Some things, it seemed, never changed.
The Heir to the throne of Rimmerworld had fallen in love. Which was fine, Rimmers were known to do that from time to time. Of course, no matter how much 'love' they claimed to have for their partner, a Rimmer would always sell out his or her partner for whatever reason.
When the Heir went courting, he proved another personality crime. He was charming. He had the ability to woo properly. And just before he won over the object of his affections he was arrested and put in a cell for the night.
Only for the night. The next day he would be burnt on a stake.
There had been someone else in the cell with him. A man. The man looked like him. (well, everybody looked like everybody else on Rimmerworld. Any one who didn't was burnt at the stake.) But he was different. He had a capital 'H' on his forehead, like the heir's father, the Emperor did.
The Heir realized who this was. The Original. The Creator. This was the man who existed only in legend. He was supposed to have died hundreds of years ago. But he was, quite obviously alive.
The Heir and the Original spent the night talking. The Heir explained his crimes, and the Original explained how he got there in the first place.
The Original was waiting for his shipmates. He had come from a ship called Starbug. And he was but one hundred and thirty six years away from being rescued. The Original spoke of a mechaoid, named Titan who cleaned. The Heir didn't know what a mechaoid was, but he gathered that it was a life form of some type and it liked o do laundry. Of a creature called the Kit, who was the most vain creature ever to have lived. He had evolved from kits, according to the Original. But the Original couldn't remember what a kit was. And Custer. Derek Custer. The Original spoke of him very fondly. Sure, every other word spoken about Custer was an insult of some sort. But it was fond insults. And as he finished the stories of all his adventures before coming to Rimmerworld , he had a far away look in his eyes.
And dawn came. The Heir and the Original heard footsteps coming toward the cell. The Heir knew he was going to die, the Original knew the Heir was going to die.
The Heir was led away to the execution grounds. He was tied to his stake. A fire was lit.
Being burnt is not the fastest way to die. It could have been slower, yes, but it could have been faster.
The Heir looked at the sky, hoping to spot the craft the Original had spoken of. The flames rose higher, and the Heir thought of the Original stories. His adventures. His brushes with death, his actual death. He thought of Derek Custer, and what the Original had said to him.
The Heir decided that maybe bravery was Rimmerlike. The Original certainly had been.
"Anyone who displays behaviour deemed out of character or un-Rimmerlike is punished by death."
-Rimmer, Rimmerworld
Technically he was the prince. He was the son of the current ruler and one of his concubines. The first born from the ruler. He had been the Heir. Technically.
In fact, for the last twenty odd years he had been the heir, expected to follow in his father's footsteps.
But he had a secret.
He.. he wasn't afraid. Of anything. He lacked cowardess, which was a crime here. A capital crime.
But the prospect of death didn't scare him.
As he stood on the platform, tied to a pole and flames licking at his feet, he remember what had gotten him here.
He had had a plan.
He was going to pretend to be a sniveling little maggot until he got the throne. Then things were going to change.
But, in true Rimmer style. He'd buggered it up.
Some things, it seemed, never changed.
The Heir to the throne of Rimmerworld had fallen in love. Which was fine, Rimmers were known to do that from time to time. Of course, no matter how much 'love' they claimed to have for their partner, a Rimmer would always sell out his or her partner for whatever reason.
When the Heir went courting, he proved another personality crime. He was charming. He had the ability to woo properly. And just before he won over the object of his affections he was arrested and put in a cell for the night.
Only for the night. The next day he would be burnt on a stake.
There had been someone else in the cell with him. A man. The man looked like him. (well, everybody looked like everybody else on Rimmerworld. Any one who didn't was burnt at the stake.) But he was different. He had a capital 'H' on his forehead, like the heir's father, the Emperor did.
The Heir realized who this was. The Original. The Creator. This was the man who existed only in legend. He was supposed to have died hundreds of years ago. But he was, quite obviously alive.
The Heir and the Original spent the night talking. The Heir explained his crimes, and the Original explained how he got there in the first place.
The Original was waiting for his shipmates. He had come from a ship called Starbug. And he was but one hundred and thirty six years away from being rescued. The Original spoke of a mechaoid, named Titan who cleaned. The Heir didn't know what a mechaoid was, but he gathered that it was a life form of some type and it liked o do laundry. Of a creature called the Kit, who was the most vain creature ever to have lived. He had evolved from kits, according to the Original. But the Original couldn't remember what a kit was. And Custer. Derek Custer. The Original spoke of him very fondly. Sure, every other word spoken about Custer was an insult of some sort. But it was fond insults. And as he finished the stories of all his adventures before coming to Rimmerworld , he had a far away look in his eyes.
And dawn came. The Heir and the Original heard footsteps coming toward the cell. The Heir knew he was going to die, the Original knew the Heir was going to die.
The Heir was led away to the execution grounds. He was tied to his stake. A fire was lit.
Being burnt is not the fastest way to die. It could have been slower, yes, but it could have been faster.
The Heir looked at the sky, hoping to spot the craft the Original had spoken of. The flames rose higher, and the Heir thought of the Original stories. His adventures. His brushes with death, his actual death. He thought of Derek Custer, and what the Original had said to him.
The Heir decided that maybe bravery was Rimmerlike. The Original certainly had been.