It was cold, for a start.
Lister tried to snuggle up comfortably in his blankets, but found that the cold was far too biting at the moment for that.
"Ooh, smeg…," he mumbled. "What the hell is wrong with the heating?"
He tried multiple times to try and fall back asleep, but it was proving more than futile. Grumbling to himself, he decided to slip out of the bunk and get dressed for the new day.
Of course, imagine his surprise when he saw his alarm clock which was permanently on 'snooze'.
"Its 5 AM!" he exclaimed. "What the smeg is going on around here?"
Still incredulous, he reached inside his wardrobe and pulled out a simple boiler suit. As soon as he got this problem sorted, he planned on getting back into bed. He slipped his boots on and headed for Rimmer's bunk.
"Rimmer, man, wake up," he said, kicking against the wall below the bunk sharply.
Rimmer didn't stir.
"Rimmer, come on, man, something's gone wrong, and if I can't sleep, you sure as hell ain't either."
But the hologram still didn't awaken.
"Look, I know you can't feel the cold when you're soft-light, but come on, man, I need you to help me out here, okay?"
Nothing.
"What the smeg is wrong with you? You deaf or something?"
Lister finally actually looked down into the bunk.
It was empty. Rimmer wasn't there.
Lister's brow furrowed in confusion. "Rimmer?"
He dug around the blankets. Maybe the hologram's light bee had deactivated somehow. Maybe he was getting a new sort of upgrade and needed to be shut down for it to work.
But there was no sign of the tiny projection device.
"Wee-ird," Lister remarked. "Maybe he's already looking into it…"
Realizing he was a bit hungry, Lister decided to grab a quick snack before trekking off to solve the heating problem. He moseyed over to the refrigeration unit for something to eat.
The minute he opened it, his nostrils were assaulted by horrible smells, causing him to slam it shut again.
"What the hell…?" he mumbled, pinching his nose.
He opened the door again, and tried to see what the problem was.
There wasn't a lot of food in there, but whatever there was, it had gone bad, and it all sat in neat little rows, decaying and rotting, releasing it's various odors into the air.
"Has the power gone on the blink?" Lister pondered.
Only one thing for it.
"Holly? What the smeg's happened to the power?"
No answer.
Lister rolled his eyes. Holly was always slow to answer.
"Hol? Come on, I'm freezing and starving and I need some answers pronto!"
But Holly still didn't answer.
Lister wandered over to the screen console and began pressing the call button, hoping to alert the computer to him.
But nothing happened.
He pressed it again – still nothing.
"Oh come on, I've not used the officer's bath for years now. What's the problem?"
Finally, the screen flickered, and Lister smiled with relief.
Then his relief deflated as a familiar orange image greeted.
It was that malfunction graphic.
That one graphic that reminded them all that Holly was effectively dead.
Lister had always felt guilty whenever he saw that graphic, and it definitely wasn't helping now.
"What the smeg is going on?" he demanded.
This was seriously starting to annoy Lister. Was nothing working on this blasted ship?
He stalked off down the corridor, relieved to find the doors still worked, and passed the Leopard Lager machine, which he kicked out of habit, and waited for a can of lager to come down.
Nothing came down.
Grumbling, he kicked it again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
He gave up and started walking down the corridor again.
CLUNK!
Lister stopped and looked back.
A lone can of lager had finally thudded down into the receptacle.
Relieved he wouldn't have to go through this sober, he walked over and plucked it out and cracked it open. He took a hearty swig.
And then he spat it back out.
"Gah!" he grimaced, his tongue hanging out in disgust. "What the hell? You gave me a bad lager! It tastes…old!"
The machine didn't reply.
Glaring at it, Lister angrily took a determined sip of the old lager. He wasn't about to let a little thing like age keep him clear-headed.
He continued his journey, hoping to find one of his crewmates, and maybe they'd be able to help him.
He listened carefully for the sound of the Cat's off-key singing, or Kryten humming as he did laundry, or even for the sound of the Skutters playing 'Cowboys & Indians'.
Nothing at all.
"This doesn't feel like my ship," Lister mumbled as he crumpled the now-empty can.
He arrived in the Drive Room a few minutes later, looking around for some sign of life.
"Kryten? Cat?" he shouted.
He heard no replies.
"Krissie? You about?"
Nobody answered him.
"Holly?"
…
"Rimmer?"
…
"Anyone?"
…
"…who's not waiting to kill me?"
…
"I'm alone…"
It was way too quiet.
He could hear the rumble of the air conditioner, and the slight vibrations of the engines.
It was all too much like when he first came out of stasis.
A dead ship with no company.
And now there wasn't even a Holly to tell him everyone was dead. It seemed she was dead too…
He leaned against a computer console to steady himself.
"Okay, easy, Dave," he mumbled to himself. "Don't go off the deep end. Maybe they're just not on board. Maybe they went outside for a bit…"
He headed over towards the lift and jabbed the call button.
With a loud screech, the doors slowly opened, revealing a surprisingly dusty lift inside. He brushed some cobwebs aside and stood in the middle of the room, jabbing the button for the landing bay.
It was a long and slow journey. The lift was screeching as if it hadn't been used in years.
It was a good ninety minutes before Lister was finally at his destination.
Finally, the doors screeched open again, a bit more easily this time, and Lister stretched a kink out of stiff neck before walking out onto the gantry that overlooked the Landing Bay.
He looked out across it.
The large spacious landing bay had been upgraded when Red Dwarf was rebuilt by nanobots eleven years previously. It had included twenty ships of Starbugs and Blue Midgets. When the resurrected crew had abandoned ship, they had taken all the ships but one broken down Starbug (and a Blue Midget, but that was long gone now) remained.
Lister saw that one Starbug sitting in it's place on the launch pad.
And it looked like it hadn't been touched in years.
The windshield was cracked, the green paint was dusty and peeling, the gearbox was hanging open, and one of the landing legs was crooked, causing the green craft to tilt to one side.
Lister stared at it.
It was obvious the others hadn't left.
But how did Starbug get into such a state of disrepair overnight? They'd only used it the previous day to raid a derelict ship for supplies.
Worried and confused, Lister headed back to the lift and punched the button to take him back to the Drive Room.
Fortunately, the trip down seemed to have loosened things up a bit, so he found himself back upstairs in forty-five minutes this time.
Tired and panicky was a bad combination for any human being. Wanting to fall asleep and yet unable to do so. Constantly looking around and checking every sound was very grating.
Lister was feeling like this as he stumbled blindly back to his quarters.
He half-expected to find them all waiting for him in his room, all as if nothing had happened. Rimmer doing his revision, Kryten doing some laundering, Cat eating his dinner or Kochanski waiting in his bunk, offering to help him warm up.
But no one was there.
Sighing, he kicked his boots back off, slid out of the boiler suit and climbed back into his bunk.
"It's all a dream," he murmured. "When I wake up properly this time, they'll all be back… They'll be back…"
And he dozed off.
He slept for another two hours.
It was a good degree warmer when he woke up again.
He smiled contentedly when he inhaled some cleaner oxygen. Hardly any dust in this batch.
He was pleased when he awoke and saw the lights already on.
"Ahh, good, you're finally awake," Rimmer said, not looking up.
Lister looked and saw Rimmer working away at his revision, going though his notes and working on a practice quiz.
"Hey, man, you still working on that?" Lister asked.
"Of course! I think I've just about got it. I just need to remember the exact speed one must be accelerating at when confronted with a black hole."
"Could you just, I dunno, go around it?"
"Lister, this a textbook question. You have to humor it. Anyway, Kryten wanted your help with something."
"Eh? What's he need me for?"
"Something about a porous circuit. I don't remember the details exactly. It was nearly an hour ago."
"Right then. I'll see to it."
Lister slipped into his boiler suit again and got his boots back on. He strolled along and stopped at Leopard Lager machine again, giving it a sturdy kick, and he was satisfied to find a nice cold can of lager waiting for him. He snatched it, cracked it open and took a swig.
"Brutal," he sighed contentedly.
He finished by the time he made it to the Drive Room, and he chucked into the recycling bin. He found Kryten and Kochanski hard at work at a row of computer consoles.
"Somebody call about a porous circuit?" he called out.
They looked up and smiled when they saw him.
"Oh, good, you finally woke," Kochanski remarked. "Surprised you didn't drown in your sleep. Your mouth was like a leaky faucet."
"Love you too, babe," Lister replied, kissing her cheek. "What's up, Kryters? Rimmer says you asked for me?"
"Ah, yes, sir, a bit of a problem has arisen, and you alone hold the ability to solve it?" Kryten explained.
"Oh yeah? What's that then?"
"We require you to wake up, sir."
Lister stared at him. "But I am awake," he said, confused.
"Not really," Kochanski said. "We really need you to wake up."
Lister stared at them with the utmost confusion, and then it twigged.
"Oh no…," he mumbled. "I'm awake. I'm definitely awake."
"Sir, please, you need to wake up," Kryten said.
"I am."
"Dave, really, you need to wake up."
"Stop it! I'm awake!"
Just then, the Cat swaggered into the room, screeching away. "Hey, buds!" he screeched. "Found that spanner for ya, Ice Cube Head!"
"Ah, thank you, sir," Kryten said, taking the spanner.
"Hey, Dormouse Cheeks, you finally turned up!"
"Cat, please explain to them that I'm awake," Lister insisted frantically, putting his hands on Cat's shoulders.
Cat looked confused. "But…you're not."
"Oh, not you too…"
"But isn't it obvious you're asleep?"
"What're you on about?"
"I just got a tool for Kryten! That should've been your fist clue."
Lister stared at his crewmate in a stupor before realizing.
"Smeggin' 'ell, I'm dreaming…," he whispered.
"Right," Cat said condescendingly. "So why don't you wake up?"
And he did.
And it was bloody cold again too.
Lister sat up in his bunk in a sweat, and looked at the clock.
It'd only been a couple of hours.
He looked at the table.
No Rimmer. No revision. No pointless textbooks with even more pointless questions.
"What the hell is going on?" Lister shouted.
He clambered down from his bunk and looked around very thoroughly.
But it was dusty and cobwebby and empty.
He opened the wardrobe, but found only the tattered remains of his own clothes.
He checked the bookcases, and now he properly saw that there were only a few left. Many of his comic books were gone, and Rimmer's revision textbooks and binders had vanished.
The motorcycle was rusted and decaying.
The lights on the table that linked with the Drive Room were off and dormant.
The adjacent washroom was grimy from disuse.
Finally, Lister just plain old lost patience.
"WHERE THE SMEG IS EVERYONE?" he shouted.
It echoed all around him.
Furious, he slipped back on his boiler suit and boots and pounded up corridor. He ignored the lager machine and just hightailed it for the Drive Room.
He made it inside and promptly set to work at a computer console. He typed away at it desperately, ignoring the layers of dust on the individual keys. He immediately got into the security logs and began looking around.
"Access most recent entry," he ordered.
He was relieved when the voice-activated controls were still working, but it took awhile for the data to appear.
Finally, after five minutes of intense waiting, the screen popped up the data.
Last Security Log…
10 years ago…
Lister stared at it dumbly.
10 years ago…
10 years ago?
That couldn't be right. They always checked this program once a month to make sure it was working properly.
Was it some kind of fault?
He sniffled at the heavy dust in the air.
He hoped it was some kind of fault.
He looked up the last log and observed it.
SECURITY LOG #23432184774782999
0845 – Unregistered Mechanoid detects flameout in drive plate area.
0859 – Power Failure. Mainframe computer goes offline.
1023 – Supplies are gathered by 2nd Tech Rimmer and Unregistered Mechanoid
1056 – Starbug 1 deemed unusable. Click to see fault details.
1104 – SOS signal dispatched.
1135 – Passing vessel is hailed.
1253 – Crew is rescued by GELF tribe. 3rd Tech Lister, Nav Officer Kochanski and Unregistered Humanoid sold to slavery. 2nd Tech Rimmer and Unregistered Mechanoid enter reprogramming.
1543 – Red Dwarf vessel deemed worthless. GELFs abandon it.
1632 – Red Dwarf Security Logs Cancelled
Lister stared at this information, his mouth having gone dry while reading it.
Apparently, some ten years ago, one of the drive plates had malfunctioned, and there was the danger of radiation being released, so they'd attempted to abandon ship on Starbug, but the craft had somehow been damaged and couldn't be used. So they'd tried sending an SOS. They'd been rescued by GELFs who had enslaved himself, Kochanski and the Cat, and Rimmer and Kryten had been sent for reprogramming to become servants as well.
But Lister was here.
He wasn't enslaved by GELFs. He was here.
But there it was on the screen.
"Red Dwarf's been abandoned," he breathed. "No one's lived here for years…"
And then it hit him.
"But that means…I haven't lived here for years."
Breathing heavily and trying to remain calm, cool and collected, Lister staggered out of his chair and walked slowly around the room.
"It can't be… It just can't be! I didn't leave! I'm still here! I'm still here!"
He yelled and rallied, trying to rebuild his confidence. Maybe it was an unreality bubble. Maybe he was in AR.
It had to be something!
But nothing was happening.
He was stuck in a time where he no longer existed. He was dead. He was a memory.
He was alone.
All alone.
Completely alone.
No Rimmer.
No Cat.
No Kryten.
No Holly.
No Kochanski…
He was alone.
And the novelty had already worn off.
And he did the only thing he could do.
He ran.
He ran down the winding mazes of corridors, through various rooms…
Looking…
Searching…
Hoping…
Pleading…
And then…
And right then…
Nothing.
He came to a dead stop at a blank wall. He skidded to a halt just a few inches from it.
He turned around and looked back the way he came.
Nothing.
Just a long dusty corridor with rows of doors on it.
"Help…," he whimpered.
He backed into the wall and slowly sunk to the ground, he legs flopping out in front of him.
"Help…," he whimpered again.
And he cowered there, curling up into a tight little ball, and then he slowly tipped over onto his side.
He stared out the large window next to him.
All he saw was space, glaring back at him.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
He lay there for a long time.
When he woke up again, he was still where he was.
He didn't know how long he'd slept, but it felt instantaneous.
And when he tried to stand, it felt like one hundred years.
He staggered upright again, stretching himself all over.
"Hello?" he called out.
No reply.
Still a long dusty corridor stretching out before him.
So it wasn't a dream.
Whatever he was now, he didn't know what.
But he was lost here, trapped in this giant red trashcan.
"What the hell do I do now?" he wondered aloud.
He just stood there, for probably twenty minutes, just staring.
Just waiting.
Just wondering.
And then he started walking again.
He was hungry.
Do ghosts get hungry?
Why would he haunt Red Dwarf anyway?
Because it was the most important part of his life, he reminded himself.
But what of the others? Why weren't they here as well?
Were they still alive?
He knew Rimmer and Kryten couldn't join him, but surely Kochanski or the Cat?
He strained to listen.
Cat always hung out around here, dancing, investigating, singing…
But he wasn't around.
He was alone.
One.
Single.
Solitary.
Human.
Nobody else.
He couldn't stand it anymore.
He didn't want this.
He needed to talk to someone.
Can silence be this loud?
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Why all the nothing?
Why this?
And that was when Lister realized…
There was only one thing to do.
He had only one weapon.
He stood still, looked at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and shouted one sentence.
"I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE!"
"What the hell are you screaming about, you stupid gimboid?" Rimmer demanded.
Lister's head dropped back down in shock, and he stared at Rimmer's confused face.
"Rimmer…?" he asked.
"Yes, now come on, I've been looking everywhere for you."
"But…but…"
Rimmer wasn't listening. He was storming off purposefully down the corridor.
Lister looked around again.
He was still in the same corridor he'd been a few moments ago. Everything was the same.
It just wasn't as dusty as before.
A Skutter went whizzing past him, following after Rimmer.
Still confused as hell, Lister ran as fast as he could after him.
"Where're we going?" he called after him.
"Landing Bay," Rimmer replied. "Kryten needs our help fixing the gearbox on Starbug."
"Is Cat going to be there?"
Rimmer stared at him with disgust. "Why would the Cat help us fix a faulty gearbox? He's got the work ethic of a Little Chef waitress."
Lister grinned. "Glad to hear it. Let's get to work."
And with that, they set off for the lift.
"An imagination is a powerful tool. It can tint memories of the past, shade perceptions of the present, or paint a future so vivid it can entice…or terrify, all depending upon how we conduct ourselves today…"
~ Jim Davis, Creator of "Garfield"
Thanks for the inspiration.
…and for cluttering my bookcase.