Red Dwarf does not belong to me in any way, shape or form. Ah well, at least I own a nice yummy prawn cracker!
"Space is big. Unbelievably, rediculously huge. 'You won't believe just how mind bogglingly vast it really is' A wise man once wrote. And I'm inclined to believe him. Even in the twenty-third century, Man has only truly explored about one five-hundredth of space, possibly less. And yet, even in these modern times, secrets are constantly being uncovered from the depths of this endless black sea..."
"Off,"
The face on the screen blinked and faded out, and the lights clicked on, bathing the room in a stark white light, which reflected harshly off of the white surgery-like walls. A figure stood in the middle, his grubby leather jacket squeaking slightly as he flexed his neck and shoulders, a long hiss of air escaping his teeth in discomfort. The room he was standing in had been a real bugger to unlock and break into, the three-million year old door mechanisms had rotted from disuse long ago. According to the Cat, not even the race of felines had entered this section of the ship, believing it to be the sacred ground of Cloister's deciples, a sin to enter these hallowed and holy walls.
Lister was standing in the stock centre of the Starboard mess room.
Plates still miraculously lined the tables either side of him, however the food on them had rotted and evaporated years ago. Little piles of ash were strewn all about him, a sad reminder of the silence and abandonment that the room had suffered. Lining the south end of the room was the buffet, the sneeze guard dusty with no doubt the remains of Mrs Mann, the married chef who was the pride and joy of the kitchens. Lister ran a reluctant index finger across the glass leaving behind a clean trail in the fine white powder.
He rolled the dust between his fingers in thought. Mrs Mann was always good for keeping her top two buttons undone, the lace of her bras just peeking out from beneath her ship-issue shirts. With a resigned sigh, the thirty-year old wiped his hands on his jeans and thrust them deep into his pockets, his little finger sticking out from a hole in the thin lining.
"Smeg..." He whistled to himself as he sidled into the kitchens to find more little piles of white powder, surrounding one huge pile that dwarfed them all. Lister guessed, with a stifled snort, that this was Mrs Mann's gargantuan chef husband, Mr Gerald Mann. How a beauty like Liza Mann had got tangled up with Gerald had stumped the whole ship, but there had been some less-than tasteful rumours surrounding that mystery.
"Are you sure this room is decontaminated Holly?" Lister bit his lip. The incident of the Mutated Pneumonia was still fresh in his mind, even after five years since the incident of exploding civil servants. The expressionless visage of Holly materialised on the nearest blank screen, and looked about her. Everything seemed to be in order, no signs of identified or unidentified life about, no new bugs, and the bugs that remained were eminating from the human standing before her. But then again, that chronic sickness and diarreah bug last month seemed to slip right off her scanners.
"Yes, I'm not picking anything new up, Dave, as I told you before," She droned. Lister swallowed.
"Are you sure, Hol?" He pressed on. "Are you entirely, positively, honestly, one hundred and twenty five per cent sure there's no strange bugs or viruses floating about in the atmos?"
"Yes Dave, nothing new,"
"Thats what you said last time, and I've still got the bedsores!" Lister whimpered as he brushed his backside. Luckily, he had been able to fight Kryten off, who had been armed with bandages and Iodine, from taking care of the offending welts and allowed him to sort them out himself. Dropping to his knees, he began pulling and sliding at the cupboard doors, his hands grapping and exploring in the corners, grabbing at tins and packets and various bottles. He mumbled as he went, throwing the objects behind him as he dug deeper, until finally he let out a yell of surprise.
"HEY! Hey hey he- OW!" He yelped as he banged his head hard on his excited withdrawal from the stores. "I haven't seen one of these since... since I were a kid! It musta been Ginormous Gerald's," He grinned toothily as he held up the treasure to the light and rubbed the back of his head. It was a candy necklace, a little dusty from the years, but still in perfect condition otherwise. Lister remembered fondly of the times he and his mates would buy them and ping them at eachother, then chew on them, sharing the sweets between them. He slipped it over his head and rummaged through the rest of his findings, grimacing as he separated the not-so-fresh from the putrid slime that was once upon a time food. Pocketing the few edible results, he jumped up, still nursing his bumped head he strolled out, sucking contentedly on three of the sweet beads that hung around his neck.
"Aah, I see the great hunter/gatherer has returned triumphant from his rummaging in the bins and garbage pits of the ship," Rimmer grinned from his spot in the bunk room. The hologram sniffed and grimaced as he watched Lister smack and slobber at his favourite finding, reduced to a mere spit-soaked string that hung disgustingly around the human's neck.
"Can it, Rimmer. I found these, thought they might come in handy," Smiled Lister, who pulled out several packets of Space Invader crisps and a small packet of Haribo. "I found Gerald's stash,"
Rimmer blinked in abandon. The various packets rustled as Lister threw the contents of his pockets onto the table, and fell onto a waiting chair. With a heave he propped his legs up on the white surface, the bottom of his boots coated in the remains of the kitchen staff, and reached for the packet of aptly named Starmix Haribo. Rimmer grimaced as the man before him opened the plastic wrapping with a sharp snap, and proceeding to empty the entire contents in one go into his mouth.
"Well, that explains a few things," Rimmer smirked as Lister struggled to chew the gummy mess in his mouth. "All those E numbers killed your brain at age eight, didn't they,"
"'egg 'ff 'mmer," Lister dribbled, a trail of luminous saliva running down his chin. If holograms could throw up, Rimmer got pretty close at that point. The man before him shuddered, coughed, and proceeded to swallow the lot in one gulp. "Ooooooh, that was so good. I haven't had sweets since I ate that cake Petersen made me," He smiled in satisfaction, his face practically in a state of post-orgasm.
"Peterson made a cake???" Rimmer was taken aback at this fact. He immediately had a less-than-sane vision of the hairy Dane, complete with tatoos, dressed head to toe in a frilly apron mixing cake batter in a spotless american fiftie's style pine kitchen.
"Yeah, a cake," Lister grinned, his eyes taking on a flash of mischeif. "A special one," Rimmer gasped and shot to his feet, pointing an accusing finger in the other man's face.
"YOU! You took aboard a Funny Sponge?!" He puffed out in one breath. "Do you realise how serious that is?"
Lister snorted in laughter at the finger that shook two inches from his nose. "I didn't take it aboard, I told you, Peterson made it for me. Come on Rimmer, It were me birthday!"
Rimmer snarled and chewed this over, knowing full well there was no longer a Captain Hollister to report this breech of the law to. Instead, he lowered his finger to his side and stood up straight, his nostrils flaring in fury, his eyes burning into Lister's in accusation. He was about to open his mouth when Lister rose to his feet, stretching his arms high above his head in a long stiff yawn, and tiredly grinned at the hologram before him, who was turning an amusing shade of red.
"Well Rimmer, as much as I'd love to be bollocked at, I think I'm due for a sleep," Scratching his nether regions, he stepped past his bunkmate and hauled himself up onto his bed, and proceeded to brush his duvet down with the palm of his hand, releasing a small cloud of bread and biscuit crumbs which flew into the cabin air and settled itself gently like brown snow on the ground. "I dunno why, but all of a sudden I'm feeling well sleepy, like,"
Rimmer ducked as Lister's tattered and greying t shirt was flung across the cabin, followed swiftly by his jeans and socks. "Aren't you going to pick those up, Lister? Lister??"
But the human was already snoring. Smeg, thought Rimmer as he left to walk towards the cockpit. He really was tired. Rimmer looked back over his shoulder at the sleeping form behind him, who had not moved an inch, his mouth wide open, his snores beginning to rock the walls. "You know, if not for the snoring and flatulance, I'd swear he was comatose,"
With a worried glance back, Rimmer stalked out of the bunkroom. No-one, not even unwashed space bums, should fall asleep that fast.