Whatever Happened to Kristine Kochanski?
Somewhere in deep space, millions of years from now, a small medium-size planet will once again start its long journey around its parent star, closely followed by its twin. Occasionally their gravitational pull will force them to spin around each other; but that is a very rare occurance.
The main planet is mainly covered in dense, lush rainforest; a perfect haven for tropical creatures of untold varieties, so similar to that of Earth's Amazon, yet so far removed from its sphere of influence, some would be insulted by the mere idea of it being a coincidence.
Completely unspoiled by the industrial hands of humanity, on this world has had the chance to grow species that Charles Darwin would give his right arm to see.
But where there is prey, there are always predators.
Into a small clearing burst a young woman in her mid-thirties. She stopped, panting, to catch her breath. She was wearing black combat fatigues (slightly damp, partly due to the moist atmosphere, partly due to over-exertion) and grasping the rear end of a medium-size Phaser Pistol. A badge over the lapels identified her as Kochanski, K. Z.
In the distance, something roared. She looked back, scanned her immediate environment, and continued running.
These things were everywhere. There was no way to get away from them.
Nowhere to hide.
She continued running. Somewhere far behind her, something rustled through the undergrowth, rapidly gaining speed.
Without warning, the trail ended and her path ran straight into a thick wall of vines. There was no way around it.
Dead end.
Kochanski quickly pulled out a machete from her knee pocket and started chopping through the vines. The blade of the machete flashed though the endless green, repeatedly slashing mercilessly, desperately, through shoots and reeds.
The thing, for there was no description for it in human terms, was getting closer now. It howled menacingly, coming ever closer towards its prey.
In the darkness, an amber eye glinted.
Further ahead, The vines started thinning out and Kochanski broke into a run, knocking trailing vines over behind her.
In the distance, something blue glinted and she instinctively ran towards it. Was this her way out of this nightmare?
Slashing through an enormous plant similar to a dock-leaf, she stopped short of a large blue shuttlecraft, just larger than a car. Stencilled on the side were the words "Blue Midget", with the JMC logo underneath.
This was all the coercion she needed. Kochanski, now relieved at the prospect of leaving this strange, forbidding planet, hurried into the airlock, locking the door behind her. She turned around and made her way to the cockpit.
What she saw in there wasn't good.
The front was half-buried in the muddy ground. The viewport had shattered on impact, and water was slowly seeping in from above. The entire front row of seats was partially submerged in rainwater from many previous downpours. The controls fizzled and crackled in contempt of their current condition. The air stank of death and decay, as if something had died in there.
Very clearly, the shuttle was going nowhere in a hurry.
Kochanski broke down in despair, sobbing and trembling. She had lost all hope of escape; now there was just the jungle.
And them.
The machete dropped to the floor and slid into the murky brown water.
An insane resolve possessed Kochanski. She got up and looked at the Phaser still clinging stickily in her hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, she started to bring it up.
Then something tapped four times on the airlock.
Almost like someone knocking.
In her mind's eye she could picture an enormous mass of thick black fur, a million teeth lining it's salivating mouth.
So, at last they had caught up with her. There was no escape now. Even if she could block off the painfully obvious gap in the bulkheads, there was no place left to run.
End of the line.
All over.
And she thought back to her former crewmembers, to the life she had left behind.
Back to when she had a home, had a family.
There was Dave, with his goofy habits. He had often tried to chat her up, but with little success. She never saw him as a replacement of the original. Not her Dave.
The Cat, Holly. Kryten, her arch-nemesis. Smeg it all, she even missed Rimmer.
The end is nigh. She slowly walked to the airlock door.
No turning back now.
She gripped her Phaser with both hands, shut her eyes tightly, activated the door controls and waited.
"Am I interrupting something?"
What?
She opened her eyes. A large friendly face beamed back at her.
Standing in front of her was a tall man with a bohemian haircut, a large grey-brown overcoat, a floppy hat and a long multi-coloured scarf. From his pocket he produced a crumpled white paper bag.
"Hello, I'm the Doctor. Care for a Jelly Baby?"