The New Recruit
"You wanted to see me, Captain Hollister?" said Arnold Rimmer, poking his head eagerly around the doorway of the Captain's office.
"Yes, Rimmer, come in," said Hollister, waving towards the vacant seat before his desk.
Smirking in a very self-satisfied manner, Rimmer marched importantly into the Captain's office. He stopped abruptly in the center of the room. A serious expression came over his face. Hollister sighed deeply and rolled his eyes to the stars above as Rimmer's right hand shot out straight in front of him. The technician held his arm still as a statue for a moment, before rotating his wrist five times in a counter-clockwise motion, afterwards bringing his hand to his hairline in a Boy Scout salute. His arm snapped back down to his side and he stared dutifully straight ahead.
"I am most honored to be here, Sir," said Rimmer, as Hollister looked up exasperatedly at him with one eye—the other was hidden behind his hand. "I am most honored indeed that you would call me here to your office, your place of work, your command center, your humble abode…"
"Rimmer," said Hollister, closing his eyes. "I haven't got all day. Please, just sit down."
"Right," said Rimmer, hastily taking his seat. "Yes, Sir, of course, Sir!"
"Am I right in assuming that Todhunter told you why I've called you here?" asked Hollister, as he reached forward for the clipboard on his desk with great difficulty, the bulk of his stomach and his considerably stubby arms making it nearly impossible to reach.
"I'll get that for you, Sir," said Rimmer pleasantly, reaching for the clipboard with comparable ease and handing it over to Hollister. Rimmer suppressed a grin as his eyes caught on a single word among the upside-down text that seemed to leap out to him—promotion.
"Actually," said Rimmer, painfully biting down on his lip to keep from beaming in expectant triumph. What kind of promotion? His mind was racing. Did I actually pass my last Astronavigation exam? Am I finally going to be an Officer? "Todhunter did not in fact brief me with any details of our little meeting. He simply told me you wanted to see me in your office, Sir."
"Well," said Hollister, glancing down at his watch. "This 'little meeting' of ours is actually cutting into my lunch hour and your shift, so I want to keep this short."
"Yes, Sir," said Rimmer, nodding furiously. "I understand completely, Sir. Brief and to the point."
"You've been with the company a long time, Rimmer—"
"Yes. I have been a proud member of the Space Corp and more specifically the Jupiter Mining Cooperation for twelve years, Sir," said Rimmer proudly, feeling confident in the way this meeting was kicking off.
Just say it, his mind pleaded. Say the words. Tell me I've been made an Officer! All of my brown-nosing and sucking up has finally paid off!
Hollister nodded. "There's a lot that I can say about you, Rimmer. Neither myself nor the Officers can deny that you are certainly dedicated to your post. You are very…zealous, with relentless enthusiasm for advancing your career. You always follow orders unquestioningly, and you usually get the job done to a certain level of completion. You show determination to move up in your repeated attempts to pass the Astronavigation exam, and you always seem to have a pen."
Rimmer smiled at the rare praise. Here it comes!
"As I don't have time to go over all the negative aspects of your personality…" said Hollister, briefly glancing down at his clipboard. "I'm sure that you'll be happy to hear that you're at long last getting a promotion."
Rimmer's heart raced. His hopes soared. His fingers spread out over his gray-clad kneecaps, clenching until his knuckles turned white. He bared his teeth in a tight, expectant smile that looked completely deranged to anyone who could see him, that sole individual being Hollister. Rimmer's brain was screaming, this is it, Arnie! Gazpacho soup wasn't the end of your career, after all! You're going up, up, up the ziggurat, lickety split!
"I've recently discussed your promotion prospects with the other Officers," said Hollister. "And we've all agreed that it's high time you move on up. You are no longer a Third Technician in Z Shift."
Rimmer felt as if he were going to explode with glee. How high up in the ranks had he been moved? Maybe he had scored so high on his last exam that he would be replacing Hollister himself! Reach for the stars, Arnie!
"You are now Second Technician in Z Shift."
Rimmer took this in. His smile faltered. His heart plummeted as the disappointment seeped in like poison, strangling his hopes. He imagined his disappointment personified as a black-masked villain, taking the lifeless bodies of his hopes and dropping them into a canal. "Second Technician?" he choked.
"Congratulations," said Hollister, putting out his porky hand for Rimmer to shake, which he ignored.
"Second Technician?" Rimmer repeated blankly. "Are you sure you haven't made a mistake?"
"Trust me," said Hollister. "I'm sure."
"So I'm still the lowest ranking crew member," said Rimmer in a monotone voice.
"For now," said Hollister, "Yes."
"Wait," said Rimmer, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "What about Third Technician? Who's going to fill that position? Has someone been demoted?" Oh, I hope it's Todhunter…
"No one's been demoted," said Hollister, flipping over to the next page on his clipboard. "We have some new recruits. And all of them ranked higher in the Space Corp placement test than you, except one—and he is going to be Third Technician."
"Who is he, exactly?" Rimmer spat.
"I don't have too much information about him, as I haven't got to meet the new recruits yet," Hollister said, scanning the sheet in front of him. "All that I have here is that we recruited him on Mimas—twenty-five year old David Lister."
Lister, Rimmer thought. David Lister. I already don't like the sound of him. Plus he's younger than me! He tried to picture what Lister might be like. He was probably a thug if he came from Mimas. Life was rough there; he had once…no he hadn't, actually, visited an android brothel on Mimas planet leave. Lister was probably just like everyone else there—either a pimp or a Bliss junkie. He was probably six feet tall, with muscles like ale barrels, leather-clad, handlebar mustache, with a head thick as a casaba melon.
"And that's all you know about him?" Rimmer prompted.
"So far, yes," said Hollister. "Oh, and he's going to be your bunk mate."
"My bunk mate?" Rimmer repeated vacantly.
He'd never had a bunkmate since he'd been aboard Red Dwarf. Well, he had, but never for more than a week. When he first joined the Red Dwarf crew, he had been stationed with one of superiors who had made a living changing bog rolls. The gimboid had requested that he be removed from their living quarters before he even properly got to know him. And no sooner had Rimmer put up his 'No Smoking' signs than he was transferred to another equally dull, gray bunkroom in what felt very much like solitary confinement.
But he had grown accustomed to living alone. Everything was always tidy and in perfect order from his shoe trees in a line to his underpants, hung perfectly straight on coat racks in his cupboard. He didn't have to worry about cleaning up after anyone else—or getting toothbrushes and razors mixed up. He didn't have to share the toilet and shower facilities with anyone, or pluck someone else's hairs off the bar of soap. He never had to pick anyone else's dirty underwear up off the floor or nag anyone to leave so he could have his peace and quiet in studying for his Astronavigation exam, or more commonly, creating a color-coded study timetable for it. He never had to be woken by a roommate stumbling in, drunk, at three in the morning with an equally drunk girl pinned to his side, and have to act completely unaware as they made love in the bunk above him. He never had to deal with any of this—and who knew what this new bunkmate would be like! What if he was worse than all that? What if he was a snorer?
"Lister is going to be your bunk mate," Hollister nodded. "And I don't want to hear any complaints about living accommodations from either of you—because you're stuck together, you hear me? You'll just have to work out any differences you might have and get along."
"But, Sir—" a horrible thought struck Rimmer. "You don't really think I deserve any promotion. You've just given it to me because there's a new recruit!"
Hollister didn't deny this. "You are no more skilled than Lister," he said. "But the reason that I am making you Second Technician and not Lister is simply because you are six years his elder and have more seniority in the company."
Five years older, Rimmer thought bitterly, thinking of all the nights where he saved his youth by spending the night in stasis, being non-existent and not ageing. He must have saved up nearly a year by now…
Lister was already a threat to Rimmer. What if Lister had an ambition that succeeded his own and the brains to carry it out? What if Lister got promoted and he was back to being Third Technician, the lowest ranking crew member aboard Red Dwarf? He couldn't bear the humiliation! But he could still hold Lister back, the way everyone else had always held him back…
"But I will rank above him?" Rimmer said, his countenance brightening considerably. "I'll be able to give him orders?"
"Yes," said Hollister, as his stomach growled hungrily. "You're his superior officer, so you can finally give orders to one man—Dave Lister, and no one else."
"Well, in that case," said Rimmer, feeling much better in spite of himself. "When does Listy get here?"
"His shuttle from Mimas is schedule to come in tomorrow," said Hollister, standing up behind his desk. "So make him feel welcome and show him the ropes. My advice is to enjoy your last night with your bunk room to yourself before the new recruit arrives."
"Oh, I will," said Rimmer, smiling his vulture smile. "I will."
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