Chapter 1: Man-eaters

Rimmer was terrified. While it could be argued that this had been his normal state of existence his whole life, or at the very least the years aboard Red Dwarf, it was certainly greatly magnified at the moment by the fact that Lister was terrified as well.

And they were both running for all they were worth.

"What-the-hell-are-they?" Rimmer demanded in harsh gasps.

"Gelfs, I dunno," Lister returned. He spared a brief glance over his shoulder. "Gelfs who are gaining on us."

"Gelfs from hell!" Rimmer exclaimed, then shut up. He needed his breath for running. And a panicked glance behind him showed that Lister was right. The monsters – Gelfs – whatever they were – were definitely closer than they had been moments before. This was unacceptable. He didn't want to die like this. Well, die again, technically.

It wasn't so much that they looked terrible. In fact, these were fairly human-shaped for Gelfs. And it wasn't so much that they smelled terrible, although they did. It was more that when Rimmer and Lister had first encountered the tribe while out looking for anything worth stealing on this moon, the Gelfs had been eating one of their own. In big, raw, bloody chunks. Around a camp fire. They had hastily decided the moon didn't have anything worth scrounging, and had tried to sneak away, but they'd been spotted. Now they had to get back to Starbug and out of here before they were added to the night's meal.

Or more precisely, Rimmer just had to get there faster than Lister. He figured while they stopped to eat Lister, Rimmer would have plenty of time to get to Starbug. The only problem with that plan was that Lister was faster, and was pulling ahead. At this rate, it would be Rimmer who was ripped apart while Listy got safely away. He felt a welling of resentment at the thought, and contemplated actually tripping Lister.

He was saved from having to make that decision when Lister tripped and fell all on his own. Rimmer didn't even pause. He heard Lister call out to him, and then begin swearing. He kept running, trying to ignore the pang that leaving his companion behind caused. It wasn't like he was fond of the git anyway.

Rimmer would have made it if he hadn't looked back. The Gelfs had indeed stopped chasing him, content to just catch one. The problem was that two of them were holding Lister up by the arms, and the third one was beating him about the midsection with both fists.

They were killing him.

Rimmer stopped. His body wanted to run away, but he couldn't take his eyes off the spectacle of a person he had known for years getting brutally beaten do death. No. This couldn't be allowed. Rimmer took one very hesitant step towards the Gelfs. Then he stopped. This was crazy. What could he do? There were three of them. He would just end up getting killed too. He took another step, stopped again. As he was looking around, trying not to look at what they were doing to Lister, his eyes fell on a section of iron pipe sticking out of one of the ubiquitous rubble piles. He grabbed it. It was about four feet long, and quite heavy.

Before he had time to talk himself out of it, Rimmer charged with a roar. As he ran forward, he suddenly had a feeling of great power surge though his body, and he wondered dimly if this was what they meant by an adrenaline rush giving you superhuman strength. He charged into the startled Gelfs, hitting one of them in the head so hard that half his scull caved in. The other two dropped Lister and tried to form defensive stances. Rimmer managed to club another one before they could do anything. The third, however, grabbed the club.

A very brief tug-of-war ensued, which Rimmer immediately lost. The Gelf gave a great tug, and the rod flew out of Rimmer's hands. The force threw him backwards, and it slammed the rod into the Gelf's midsection. No, Rimmer realized when the Gelf went down like a sack of wet cement, it had hit somewhat lower than the midsection. The Gelf lay on the ground cupping himself and moaning softly.

Rimmer climbed to his feet and approached Lister, keeping a wary eye on the one Gelf still living, who didn't look particularly like a threat at the moment. He bent down. Lister was doubled up coughing. He looked bad. There was blood. Rimmer wanted to back away (he hated the sight of blood), but he forced himself to extend a hand, gripping Lister's shoulder. "Listy?" he asked tentatively.

Lister paused his coughing with an effort and looked up at Rimmer. His eyes were both swollen, and he was bleeding out of the nose and mouth. "Rimmer?" he asked in a choked whisper.

"You look terrible," Rimmer told him.

"You…came back," Lister said, then choked and began coughing again.

Rimmer opened his mouth to reply when he heard a commotion from the Gelf village. There were more coming! "Lister! We have to go!" he exclaimed, urgently tugging on the other man's shoulder. "Get up!"

"Don't know if I can," Lister muttered, making a feeble effort to rise. Rimmer hooked an arm under Lister's armpit and pulled, hoisting the other man to his feet. Lister gritted his teeth and sucked in a sharp breath, face screwed up in pain. "Smeg," he managed.

"We have to run. NOW, Lister!" Rimmer said urgently. Lister tried, but all they managed was a quick shuffle. Rimmer kept looking behind him, expecting the Gelfs to appear around a pile of junk or a tree at any moment. He tugged at Lister, trying to make him go faster.

Lister suddenly stopped all forward momentum, though, and sagged to the ground. Caught unaware, Rimmer lost his grip, and Lister slipped to the ground, ending up on all fours, where he promptly began to vomit. Rimmer tried not to look (or smell), but he couldn't help but notice it was almost all blood. "Smeg, that is not good," Lister said in a breathy whisper when he had stopped.

Rimmer bent carefully down and tried to get Lister to stand again, trying to convince himself that the cold iron rod of fear in his chest was completely because they were being chased by insane mutants, and had nothing to do with the blood. "Come on," he said.

"Rimmer, I can't," Lister protested. He was making no effort at all to rise.

"So what then, I should just leave you?" Rimmer demanded, wondering as he said it why he didn't do just that. "You have to try."

"I can't," Lister said again. His face was white under the red, swollen areas. He was shaking.

"Smeg-all," Rimmer muttered. He wrapped Lister's arm around his shoulder again. Lister made a decent attempt to hold on. Rimmer then put his free arm under Lister's legs and hoisted him into his arms. He slowly straightened, groaning with effort. This was horrible! But then again, until a few seconds ago, he'd had no idea he was capable of lifting a fully-grown man in his arms. But it felt like his spine was fusing into a solid rod and his arms were going to break.

Lister looked at him blearily. "Didn't know you could…do that," he said.

"I can do anything," Rimmer said automatically, and started walking. In truth, it was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Agony flashed through his muscles with every step, and it was all he could do to keep his grip. But when Lister doubled up into another spasm of coughing and then lost consciousness, he was spurred on. One step followed another, and to his amazement, the Gelfs didn't appear and attack him. He nearly blacked out, but after an indeterminate amount of time, Starbug hove into view.

Rimmer climbed gratefully inside and even more gratefully deposited Lister on the floor behind the front row of seats. More precisely, he dropped Lister. He hadn't meant to, but as he bent down, his arms finally gave out, rebelling against trying to do something they'd never been asked to before. Lister moaned and woke up when he hit the floor. "How are you feeling?" Rimmer asked, realizing as he did so how completely asinine a question it was.

Lister muttered something incoherent in response. He was fading again. He needed a doctor, and fast. Rimmer was trying to ignore the fact that Red Dwarf didn't have a doctor. If he could get Lister back to the Dwarf, then fixing him would be someone else's problem; the situation that Rimmer was most comfortable with. He reached for the controls, and realized he had one additional problem.

He had very little idea how to fly it. He had actually flown Starbug before once, but that was in Lister's body, and he had been using the other man's reflexes more than anything. And, he had eventually crashed. He had also used the autopilot to get out of the launch bay. Here, he had to not only figure out how to take off from a planet, and find his way back to Red Dwarf. He went back to Lister and gently shook him. "Lister? Wake up."

Lister moaned, but he opened one eye halfway. He muttered something that may have been 'smeg off.'

"Can't do it," Rimmer told him briskly. "You have to fly Starbug."

"You're smegging joking," Lister said distinctly.

"I don't know how!" Rimmer protested, feeling a blush creep up his neck at the admission. "I just spent five years not being able to touch anything! When would I have learned?"

"Rimmer, I can't even sit up," Lister said. "I can't fly."

Rimmer felt panic welling up in him again. He glanced out the window, still expecting to see Gelfs arriving at any moment. "Lister, you have to."

"Help…me…up," Lister said, giving in. With a lot of effort and grunts of pain, they managed to get Lister into the pilot's seat. Rimmer had to hold him up to keep him from falling forward onto the control panel. This was going to be a lovely trip home. Lister started punching in an incomprehensible sequence of buttons. The ship came to life with a jerk and a whoosh. "I've programmed the Navicomp for Red Dwarf," Lister said. "All you have to do is follow the flight path."

"Flight path? What flight path?" Rimmer asked, baffled.

Lister wordlessly gestured at a screen showing a red dotted line with a little green blip. Rimmer supposed he probably had to get the blip to follow the line or some such nonsense. He turned to ask Lister, or better yet to ask him why he couldn't just fly himself. He got his answer, though, when he got a look at Lister's face. He was unconscious again. And this time, Rimmer couldn't wake him.

He was just about to go from gentle slapping to full-on shaking when he saw out of the corner of his eye that the Gelfs had finally found them. "Smeg!" he swore, letting go of Lister, who toppled out of the seat and fell in a heap on the floor. Rimmer, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to run except into space, desperately took the seat and grabbed the controls. Starbug immediately left the ground with a lurch. It took Rimmer a moment to realize it was because he had pulled on the yoke for stability as he sat. Well, that was easy enough. He knew that part.

Luckily for Rimmer, navigation though empty air was fairly easy, and he remembered the fundamentals of making it go up, down, and turn using the yoke. He didn't know how to make it do anything else, but maybe he wouldn't have to. He did have one tense moment when he accidentally bumped something and the navigation screen and the plotted course went black. He fixed it by frantically pushing buttons while chanting "smeg, smeg, smeg."

The trip back to Red Dwarf was horrible. Rimmer was so tense that he doubted he would ever be able to pry his fingers off the yoke again. He kept glancing over at Lister, who would occasionally moan or cough: the only signs that he was still alive. Then finally, mercifully, there was Red Dwarf in front of him. "Holly?" he asked, expecting her to appear on the screen.

Nothing happened. "Holly?" he demanded, louder this time. Still no response. However, the landing bay door opened. "What?" Rimmer practically squealed. "You expect me to land this thing? Lister? Lister! Lister, help." There was no response from his companion on the floor. There was no response from Holly. And with every passing moment, Red Dwarf loomed larger in the view port. Rimmer frantically pulled back on the speed control lever. It didn't seem to make any significant difference in their speed. He decided to switch gears and go for steering, aiming – or attempting to aim – at the open landing bay. He kept over-correcting, though, and managed to bash Starbug off both sides of the door frame before finally managing a skidding crash landing in the bay, coming to a spine-jarring stop against one of the Blue Midgets.

Now, finally, Holly appeared on the screen. "Hey now, what's this about?" she demanded.

"Where the smeg were you?" Rimmer demanded crossly, trying without success to pry his fingers off the yoke.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "You never radioed me. I didn't know you'd be flying, though, or I would have taken over."

"I wish you had!" Rimmer practically screamed at her.

"Where's Dave?" she asked, looking around from her limited vantage-point on the monitor.

"He's on the floor, probably dying of internal injuries," Rimmer said. "He's hurt."

"Oh dear," she said. "We'd best get him to the medical unit."

Now that Rimmer had her attention, Holly was surprisingly efficient, contacting Kryten and the Cat to bring a stretcher and getting the medical unit set up. Within minutes, they had the still-unconscious Lister hooked up to as many machines as Kryten could find.

"He looks terrible," Cat commented, wiping at a tiny spot of blood on his sleeve. "And he bled on me! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood stains out of silk?"

"How is he?" Rimmer asked, largely ignoring Cat.

"Not good, I'm afraid," Holly said as she analyzed the information the machines were feeding her. "Broken ribs, punctured lung, ruptured spleen…massive internal injuries. He's going to die without immediate surgery."

"What?" Rimmer asked blankly. He had felt an uncomfortable wrenching feeling at the word 'die.' He wondered briefly if he hadn't kept running, if Lister would be dying now. Stupid, he told himself, squelching the idea. If he hadn't made the tactical plan and taken the time to find a proper weapon, they would both be dead. So really, he was a hero.

"Who's going to perform this surgery?" Cat demanded.

Kryten held up his hands and wiggled his chunky fingers. "I fear I wasn't designed for such delicate tasks," he said.

"Would you know how?" Rimmer demanded incredulously.

"Well, no, sir," Kryten admitted. "But none of us knows how. And someone needs to do it, because Mister Lister will die if we don't."

"No way!" Cat exclaimed. "Count this pussy-cat out! Latex gloves and a mask with this suit?"

Rimmer backed away rapidly. "No, no, no," he said, wide-eyed.

"Relax, you lot," Holly said. "If any of you tried you'd kill him anyway. What we need to do is bring back Doctor Wallace."

"The ship's doctor? How?" Rimmer asked.

"As a hard light hologram, of course," Holly said.

"But…I'm the only hard light hologram here," Rimmer said. Then the realization hit him. "Oh no! No way! You are not turning me off to bring back anyone else! We've been through this before!"

"Without a doctor, Dave is going to die," Holly pointed out.

"But you'll turn me on again?" Rimmer asked dubiously, finding himself beginning to be swayed by her argument despite himself.

"You have my word," Holly said.

"But…according to your programming you're not allowed to deactivate a hologram without his or her permission," Rimmer argued. "What if Wallace doesn't agree to be shut back off?"

"Sir, if I might interrupt…" Kryten said.

"You have my word," Holly said again.

"But – "

"Sir, I really must insist," Kryten insisted.

"What!" Rimmer snapped.

"Mister Lister is dying," Kryten said. "While I realize that you don't actually like him, a human life is at stake. It is within your power to save him. Don't you think you should try?"

"Yeah, suck it up and do it already!" Cat snapped, casting a worried glance at Lister. Now that he knew he wasn't going to have to touch any blood or internal organs, he had stepped a bit closer and was even gently touching Lister's arm. He actually looked concerned.

Rimmer looked down at his bunkmate. Lister's eyes, even if they weren't closed, would be swollen shut by now. His nose was bent, obviously broken. His lip was split. He was white as a sheet. One arm was around his torso, cradling his broken body even in unconsciousness. Kryten had said that Rimmer didn't like him. Looking down at his bunkmate…his friend, Rimmer realized, swallowing hard, he knew what he had to do. "Your word, Holly?" Rimmer asked softly, not taking his eyes off Lister's face.

"You have my word, you won't be shut off permanently," Holly said.

"Or even for a long time?" Rimmer persisted.

"Sir, time is of the essence," Kryten reminded him.

Holly sighed. "You have my word you will be turned back on before the week is out, ok?"

Rimmer nodded briskly. "Ok, do it," he said before he could change his mind. Holly nodded, and Rimmer disintegrated into a million particles of light before fading to oblivion.

*******

Author's Note: For the purposes of this story, I need them to be on Red Dwarf, with Rimmer as a hard-light hologram. Since this never happened in the series (until the movie), for my purposes season 7 and beyond never happened. After season 6, the crew somehow managed to get back to Red Dwarf, and that's when this story occurs.