Lister hadn't planned on having any adventures for a while. He just wanted to sit back and relax for a few weeks and make the most of anything good he could wrangle out of his situation. The entire affair aboard the Sequester had shaken Rimmer up quite badly, too, understandably.

There were times they didn't go looking for adventures but got them anyway. Trouble had a nasty habit of finding them, and Lister had long learnt not to expect anything specific out of a day. One moment, they could be watching Zero-G Football and eating Wotsit sandwiches. The next? They could be lost on a small ice-planet in uncharted Space.

That's exactly where he was, now. Lost, and smack-bang in the middle of a blizzard. It hardly seemed like five minutes ago that Kryten had interrupted Lister and Cat's Zero-G session with the claims he had discovered the elusive Knowledge Station he was insistent roamed this bleak area of the cosmos. Perhaps against their better judgement, the crew had loaded up Starbug, not expecting that the search would lead them to a frosty planetoid that was about as habitable as the Antarctic.

They were unfortunate enough to enter the atmosphere in the midst of a severe storm. Starbug was tossed about the air for miles, and for a time, was completely uncontrollable. Lister couldn't quite remember what had happened next. He could faintly recollect smashing into every piece of equipment going, and trying to locate his crew-mates amidst the chaos, but then nothing.

The first thing he became aware of when coming to was the extreme cold. He was almost certain that if he could feel any part of his body, he would be in extreme pain, given the fact he was sprawled awkwardly in the snow and surrounded by chunks of what he presumed to be Starbug. His thoughts quickly shifted to his team and he tried to smother the panic that began bubbling up in his chest. They were fine, his brain insisted. They had survived worse crashes, hadn't they?

The blinding white of the environment gradually ebbed as his eyes became accustomed to it. Weakly raising his head, he found that he was coated in bloodied snow and metal parts. How the hell had he ended up outside of the craft in the first place? If Starbug was in such bad shape, how were they going to get back up to Red Dwarf?

Survive first, questions later.

Lister jerked an arm to try and shift some of the heavy snow and metal that was burying him. Barely anything moved, and the attempt made him feel so nauseous that for a moment, he dropped his head down and instead focused on not giving up and passing out. The cold would only claim him if that happened, and then what would the others do?

Opening his eyes into a squint, he thought he could see a shape manifesting through the snow. Well, it was either going to be one of the crew or something that wanted to eat him, and at that point, either option was desirable.

"K-Kryten?" he croaked, trying to reach upwards, but something was weighing down his arm. With a pained gasp, he squeezed his eyes shut again and prepared himself for whatever agony was sure to come as teeth or claws or whatever else sank into his flesh.

Instead, he felt the weight on his body gradually lifting as the metal parts were slung away from his limbs. Peering up, he could begin to ascertain that the dark shape wasn't Kryten at all, but actually Rimmer, at first recognisable because of his thoroughly disgruntled countenance. He appeared unharmed, which was to be expected, but Lister still felt a warm relief upon seeing that at least one of his crew-mates was okay.

"Y-you all right?" he asked regardless, defying the numbness setting into his face.

Rimmer's features became clearer as he leaned in. There wasn't a trace of smugness or contempt to be seen, and he certainly appeared far more striking because of it. Or, no - perhaps it was just shock and deliriousness on Lister's behalf, and the fact it hurt to look at just about anything on this snow-ridden planet.

"I'm fine," the hologram answered, a worrying presence of concern in his tone. "Lister, I don't want to worry you, particularly, but you're in rather bad shape. There's a volcanic cavern nearby that'll get you warm, but I'll need to carry you."

"I d-don't need to b-be carried," Lister insisted. Once again, he attempted to move by grabbing hold of his companion's arm and pulling himself upright – but the movement exhausted him completely. For a sickening moment, it felt as if his head was stuffed with cotton wool and like his blood was draining away from his brain. He had never felt so awful in his life, even when severely hungover, and there was little chance of him actually walking to wherever it was they had to go.

Despite the howling wind and freezing cold, he detected a pleasant, floral scent. He wasn't sure how holograms could even have a scent. Perhaps it was just an illusion, an emulation of how Rimmer would have smelt if he were alive, but he was certainly grateful for it and the small comfort it granted as he just about acknowledged that he was being dislodged from the snow and carried bridal-style across the barren landscape.

Better was the warmth that Rimmer's holographic form granted, unaffected by the extreme cold of the planet's atmosphere. Light bees exuded waste thermal energy, particularly when they were working off battery, which was carefully designed to imitate the body heat of humans. It was like being carried by a soft radiator. Unfortunately, the sensation of warmth also served to force Lister to realise just how cold he actually was – and how much pain he was in.

His head throbbed unpleasantly. He could feel blood and drool frozen to his face, and realised he must have bashed his head fairly hard during the crash. Worse was his leg, which flopped about uselessly over Rimmer's arm and twinged with a dull, aching pain every now and then. Even from his position, he could see that his knee was definitely not the shape it should have been and probably dislocated.

Fan-smegging-tastic. Not only was he stuck on some hellish planetoid with little hope of getting home, he was more busted up than he'd ever been and would be no help to the others whatsoever. That's if they were even still alive.

Managing to peer past Rimmer's shoulder, he saw that Starbug was vacant from where he had landed, save the metal components strewn about. He didn't have the energy to try and figure out just where it was, but he certainly still had the capacity to fret over absent crew members.

"We n-need to find 'em," Lister rasped desperately over the wind, grabbing his companion's upper arm and squeezing it insistently. "G-gonna die out there -"

"Lister, do yourself a favour and shut up," Rimmer advised. "They're still trying to land. Focus on not dying, instead. I don't particularly want to be lumped with your miserable corpse."

There was a portion of the landscape devoid of snow and ice, and instead boasted jagged, black stone. Indeed, there was a cavern set amongst the spiky rocks, dark but decidedly much warmer than the outside world. As he was carried down into the darkness, Lister could hear the hissing of steam seeping out from between cracks in the walls, and he wondered whether they were actually safer in a volcanic cave than they were freezing to death outside.

He forced himself not to think about any potential dangers. He hated to admit that Rimmer was right, but he knew he had to focus on himself before he could focus on anybody else if he was going to try and help them.

Hard rock bumped against his rear end as he was lowered against the cavern wall. They were deep enough that he couldn't see a thing. In an instinctive response to the darkness and the cold he still felt, he held onto Rimmer's arms to keep the warm hologram close to his body.

"I'm c-cold," he felt the need to explain, forcing the other man to kneel down and accommodate.

"Clearly. My bee's temperature is adjusting. It's warm in here. You'll be fine in a bit, you don't need me to -" Rimmer was interrupted as he was again tugged downwards and a pair of shivering arms wrapped around his middle. "Lister!"

"Wh-wha'? God, you f-feel amazin', man. Just l-let me hold on 'til I feel b-better, aight?"

He heard a sigh, but he couldn't feel Rimmer's breath against his head. Holograms didn't have breath. This one did, at least, have the same weight and convincing feel of another human being, even if something about the material of his uniform felt a bit off and like it was doused in static. Once he was sure Rimmer wasn't about to dash off to the other side of the cavern, he removed his arms from around him and instead curled his shaking hands up in the small space between them, trying to warm them before they became subject to frostbite and dropped off.

They remained like that for a minute or two, Lister slumped against the wall and Rimmer awkwardly hanging over him to share his heat. Eventually, the Scouser's mind cleared a little and he was able to properly consider their situation.

"What happened?" he asked reluctantly. "All I remember is getting tossed about the c-cockpit when the storm hit."

"Yes, it was rather like being inside a rather formidable pinball machine, wasn't it? Something was blown off the ship, and that in turn damaged one of the thrusters. The Cat managed to pilot it closer to the ground and tried to land, but something tore a hole in the port side of the cockpit. You and I were sucked out the ship like spiders into a hoover."

Aghast, Lister tried to focus on Rimmer's face through the darkness, but his eyes still weren't adjusting.

"What the hell could've ripped a hole in Starbug?"

"A rocky outcrop, maybe. Or something with big claws and an even bigger appetite."

If he didn't have such a ginormous headache, the Liverpudlian would have rolled his eyes. Trust Rimmer to try and make a bad situation even worse. Instead, he moaned slightly and tried to tuck his freezing hands into the sleeves of his big coat, but it hardly helped.

"Rimmer?"

"What?"

"Can I put me hands inside you?" he asked. He felt the hologram go rigid.

"Excuse me?"

"Like, n-near your bee. B-bet it's proper toasty in there."

It was a bit rude, he supposed, because he knew that intruding a hologram's projection field was extremely impolite and invasive, but he didn't care to think much about Rimmer's personal space in that moment. His fingers were so numb that he couldn't move them at all, and he definitely wasn't losing any limbs for the sake of his bunkmate's pride.

To his utmost surprise, he suddenly felt his hands being guided into what at first felt like empty space, until he felt like he had just shoved his arms into an oven. A hard-light's body was near impossible to penetrate, but they could put their hands inside themselves when they needed to fiddle with their bees, and it seemed as if they could consciously allow somebody else to do the same so long as hand-to-hand contact was maintained.

"Better?" Rimmer asked snidely, clearly uncomfortable with the intimate contact.

As if in answer, Lister tried to push his hands in further, seeking to grasp hold of the warm, metal device inside, but he felt Rimmer deliberately forcing his hands apart to keep them away from it. Frustrated, he tried to fight against the man's iron grip, but hard-lights were as strong as they were difficult to dispose of.

"Stop it," Arnold hissed. "Don't touch it, or I'll shove your grotty hands inside you."

"Arn, please! I'm bloody freezin'! D'yeh really think I'm gonna do somethin' to it? I j-just need to hold it for five minutes!" Again, Lister tried to reach for the light bee, only to find himself being forcefully expelled and pushed back against the wall so hard that all the breath was knocked out of him.

"I said no, you blithering brute."

Rimmer vanished into the darkness. Lister was distracted enough by his suddenly agitated sense of guilt that he didn't expect what came next.

Pain unlike anything he had ever felt exploded in his knee and coursed up his thigh. It was enough that he unleashed an embarrassing shriek and immediately curled into a defensive ball, tears already streaming from his eyes. His gut lurched and it took all of him not to puke down himself as the pain continued to resonate.

With a pained gasp, he fell onto his side and hugged his knees up to his chest, biting on one of his fingers. His knee was as right as rain, now, and no longer uncomfortable, save for the agony of the reduction.

"Rimmer!" he squeaked past his finger. "That really bloody hurt!"

"Oh, did it? Good."

"You're a bleedin' smeghead! You're a weasely, good-for-nothin'-"

"And you certainly seem to be feeling better. Don't worry, Listy; you can save the thanks and the apology for later."

"Apology?" Lister snapped. "For what?! Tryin' to get warm?! Jesus, Arn!"

Even as he said it, he knew just how wrong he was. He had the sense to acknowledge that Rimmer likely felt uncomfortable with anything going near his light bee, especially with his close call on the Sequester. Grabbing something that was a part of somebody else without their permission wasn't exactly what Lister would call decency. In fact, it was the complete opposite, and he knew how he'd feel if somebody did the same to him.

In the uncertain silence that followed, Lister wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, now laden with both concern and with guilt. Making excuses would have just made things worse. Rimmer had actually actively tried to help him but he'd just gone and mucked everything up.

"Arnold?" he spoke into the darkness, hoping his companion was still there. There was a pause, and then he heard a sharp sniff of acknowledgement nearby. "I'm s-sorry. That was wrong."

"The cold brings out the worst in you, Lister."

He almost flinched. He knew that Rimmer was referring back to when he had burnt part of the man's precious camphor wood trunk instead of his own guitar in order to stave off the cold. He occasionally felt awfully guilty about the whole thing, but his bunkmate was an exceedingly difficult person to feel guilt over.

"I know," he admitted. "A l-lot of stuff does."

"Or maybe it's just me," came the sullen reply.

"D-don't think that. I really am sorry, all right? I'm the good-for-nothin' one for tryin' to grab it without askin'." There came another silence. Unsure what else he could say, he added, "Thanks for me knee. Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"I didn't learn how. That was luck."

The poison laced into the response alerted Lister to the fact he was no longer welcome to engage in conversation with his companion. It was a frequent occurrence, of course, whenever one of them said or did something that crossed the line. They would simply part ways for a bit and allow themselves to cool off before returning to normal. Here, however, it was going to be difficult to cooperate without engaging with each other.

Respecting Rimmer's desire, Lister turned his back and coiled up, shoving his hands into his pits and keeping his sore leg outstretched. Being cold and fearful had made him somewhat irrational because he was scared of dying, and the same thoughts had been exactly what was plaguing him as of late. The future and all that came with it.

He had been wanting to talk to them about it. He wanted to sit them down and talk seriously about the things that were coming, because he knew that none of them would face the problem head on. He wanted to ask Rimmer whether he'd consider being switched off at some point in the future so that Lister could ensure his bee would be sent to the Ace Rimmer graveyard. Similarly, he wanted to ask Kryten whether he'd want to be switched off and disassembled until potentially discovered again. And Cat? Well, if there was one crew-mate he knew could sort himself out, it was Cat.

He didn't really know what he wanted for himself. He didn't often think about it. There was one thing he wanted while he was still alive, though. Something so beyond the realms of feasibility that he simply stuffed those thoughts away, putting them down to loneliness and desperation.

Because anybody had to be out of their minds to see the ultimate smeghead as being remotely attractive in any way.

It was strange, what had happened. After the incident on the Sequester, it was like somebody had flicked a switch in his brain and he began to see things in a different way. All the reading had certainly helped, but hadn't provided an answer he wanted to accept. Why didn't he hate this person any more? Didn't he need to hate him any more? The only likely explanation was that he had been feeling that way for a while, but the incident had shaken him up enough that he realised that life was fragile. Even Rimmer's, in his digital undeath. Something could happen and then he'd never get a chance to actually say something, would he?

Logically, now that they were in their volcanic cave of misery, he should have said something. They could get separated. He might never see the hologram again. And Lister would regret never having the courage to tell somebody in full confidence that he had developed extremely confusing feelings for them, even if the very thought made him want to give himself a lobotomy with an egg-whisk.

And Rimmer would never know that somebody felt that way. About him. Somehow, that thought was more painful than anything else.

It's just … you don't really feel that way, Listy, do you? You've gone space-crazy. There's nothing like a beautiful woman. You know that. My father knew it. He drilled it into me until I couldn't so much as look at another man without feeling awful. When I was eight, he caught me trying to use my mother's make-up on Frank's action dolls. He locked me in a cupboard with nothing but Playboy magazines for nine hours.

He'd only casually mentioned that he thought the male newsreader was a bit of all right, for a bloke, and then discovered that Rimmer had an entire miserable history with the prospect of thinking blokes were a bit of all right.

I didn't really understand why he was so cross. He told my mother, so she stopped taking me to theatre. And my brothers – they were the worst. They told everybody at my school. The whole time, I had no idea what I was being punished for. My brothers said that nobody would like me if I didn't act normally. That lady newsreader – the hologram – now she's something, isn't she?

The entire conversation had made Lister feel sick to his stomach. Not with his bunkmate, but with the ideology he had always been raised with, and his ghastly family.

It was why he couldn't say anything now, as he faced dying on a frozen planet.

It was the worst kind of pain, really. He had felt it with Kochanski. He felt it now. He wanted rum, beer, anything that would drown those feelings, but alas, he wasn't on Red Dwarf, and there was next to no chance of getting back. He wanted to get Kryten to drain his brain out of his nostrils, because it was Rimmer he was thinking about. Rimmer.

And he'd just tried to grab onto the guy's light bee like it was nothing. The guy didn't like contact much as it was, let alone having the one thing he had some autonomy over fondled like it was just a thing and not the device that gave him life.

"God, I'm so sorry," he muttered.

"You've said that, Lister."

"Not just about the bee thing. Other stuff, too."

He could've sworn he heard Rimmer shifting closer.

"Like what?"

"I dunno. Jus' … a lot of things. Like … you ain't happy, are yeh? But you stick around anyways, keepin' me goin', sharin' a bedroom. All I want is for you lot to be happy, man, but I can't do it. I just make things worse."

Hearing the scuff of boot against rock, Lister turned to face the direction of the noise. He still couldn't see a thing, but that was probably for the best.

"Oh, please. Stop talking before I flood the place with my tears," was the tactless response. "I can hardly fathom what I'm hearing. You truly haven't been yourself for several weeks, now, but this? I'll accept your apology if it makes you feel better, but I don't need it for anything other than your mindless groping."

Warmth. Rimmer was there, again, and he was positioning himself in front of Lister. The Scouser tentatively reached forwards and took hold of his forearms.

"You're shakin'," he surmised, devastated by the realisation that struck. "I scared you, didn't I? Man, I really am -"

"If you say you're sorry one more time, I'm going to garrotte you. And for the record, it wasn't so much what you did, but everything that's happened over the past week or so. It's hardly been our finest moment, has it?"

"We don't have fine moments," Lister grumbled, squeezing Rimmer's forearms in an attempt to stay the trembling. The hologram's efforts to keep his anxiety from taking over were serving him well, so far, but it was only a matter of time. He was either going to scarper or accidentally do something detrimental in an effort to aid Lister's survival.

"Total codswallop. I shan't speak for you, but I've had a fine moment or two."

"There's nothin' fine about your moments."

"Oh, poppycock! What about that time I swung into that nest of polymorphs to pull you out of the sinking sand?" Rimmer pressed insistently.

Relieved that any contempt aimed in his direction apparently hadn't lasted long, Lister relaxed somewhat, finding a small, shaky smile arising. Their more serious arguments rarely persisted for any great amount of time, in actuality, and were usually resolved by their more harmless, petty verbal spars.

"Yeah. Swung in like George of the Jungle. Then yeh fell in headfirst. Lucky you don't have to breathe, innit? Was like when you wash a spider down a drain, legs all wigglin' around. I appreciated the effort, though, mate. Honest."

Rimmer shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it wasn't my fault the vine turned out to be a polymorph, too."

"I know, man. Ey, what about when you took off and became Ace for a while? Probably your finest moment, weren't it? All right, I was wrong. We're not all bad."

"Well … I suppose," his companion began, his voice straining with an apparent reluctance to say whatever was coming next. "I suppose there are … things you have done which were … adequate."

Lister coughed with a swell of laughter. He croaked as mirth momentarily overtook him. It hurt to laugh, considering his current circumstances, but he didn't try to stop it coming, instead relinquishing frightful snorts through his nose and teeth. After a few wheezy snickers, he leaned in and playfully bumped Rimmer's shoulder with his forehead.

"You're funny, Rimsy. You gonna start washin' me socks again once you're done with the compliments?"

"Lister, I would rather smother my hands in butter and then dip them into a nest of starving bullet ants than share a room with nothing but your socks and underpants for company again. I would no sooner come into remote contact with your antiquated unmentionables than I would radioactive waste."

"Funny you say that, really. Weren't you folding me pants just a few days ago?" Lister reminded his bunkmate. Realising he was still holding onto the man's forearms, he made to let go – then just held them even more tightly. What did it matter if the guy didn't seem to mind? Besides, he was so incredibly warm to the touch that there was no question about it, really.

"I'm not sure how we've gone from you admiring me to talking about your malodorous knickers," the hologram muttered bitterly. "Well, how's the leg? Can you move?"

"Bit sore. Needs a splint or somethin'. Could probably use one of the metal parts that fell of the 'bug, but it's too dangerous goin' out there with that storm blowin' a hoolie. Let's wait for it to die down, eh?"

Giving his leg an experimental bend, he winced. A painful heat was setting into that particular area, and the amount of swelling meant it was difficult to move it, even if the bone had been set back into place. Despite that, he was certainly warmer than he had been ten minutes ago, and was no longer shivering like it was going out of fashion.

"Lister, this storm could last for years. It could even be a permanent fixture on the surface," Rimmer argued. "For how long are you proposing we wait?"

"I dunno, man. Just a few hours! I can't go back out there while it's like that, can I? I'll die. And you ain't goin', either, in case you get yehself lost."

There was an odd moment during which Rimmer leaned forwards until his head was somewhere near Lister's shoulder. They weren't quite touching, save for the hand to arm contact, but the sudden closeness took the Scouser by surprise. It took him a moment to realise that he wasn't breathing, and when he did resume, it emerged as a rather pitiful, stifled gasp.

"I won't get lost. I was leader of my school's orientation club for a reason," Rimmer continued arguing, apparently completely unaware of what he was doing, at least in regards to his crewmate's sudden inability to form a functional sentence. "Nobody has a better sense of direction than moi."

Poor Lister felt about eighteen years old again, and not in a good way. In the awkward and inexperienced way, actually, even if he wasn't supposed to be either of those things anymore. Any cold he had felt before had either vanished or he was simply too distracted to notice it, because once again he had acquired another lungful of a pleasant scent, one he was fairly certain he hadn't started noticing until rather recently. Rimmer was also the equivalent of a toaster at that moment, too, and he was actually making Lister start to sweat.

Because of the heat, of course, and not for any other reason whatsoever.

"The reason was that you were a total dork," he managed to utter, pressing himself as close to the wall as he could to try and cool off a bit. "Rimmer, are you …?"

"No," the hologram responded at once. There was slight squeak to his voice.

"You are. You're heatin' yehself up! You're gonna drain Starbug's energy if you keep it up!"

A brief silence confirmed what was going on. Stunned, Lister gave Rimmer's shoulder a hard shove. It hardly achieved anything, but the intent was more to display how uncomfortable he was with the realisation.

"You'll drain their systems, yeh bleedin' haemorrhoid! They could end up on the other side of the planet! I don't need your heat any more, I'm fine!"

"You just tried to yank my bee out of my body, you utter git!"

And they were back to square one.

Gobsmacked, Lister didn't know what to do other than forcefully place his hands on Rimmer's shoulders and hold him a mere inch away from his own face. Not that he could actually see him and reinforce his point with the anger on his countenance, but it had to suffice. He had known that it was only a matter of time until the wretched man did something stupid, but he hadn't expected it to happen quite so quickly.

"They need the energy to land. Cool down your bee, or better yet, switch yehself off! They need all the power they can get to land in the middle of a storm."

Once again, tension sparked and the two men sat in unyielding silence, probably glaring at each other, but one couldn't be sure when they were surrounded by pitch darkness. Lister immediately regretted his words, but he had swiftly become far too angry to even consider renouncing them, and so waited to hear either a anxious rebuttal or the soft chink of a light bee hitting the ground. The latter option was too good to be true, of course.

"I was trying to help you," Rimmer said lowly, his voice suddenly laden with a nasal upset. "I'm not just some appliance that you can switch on and off. A little gratitude wouldn't go amiss -"

"I didn't say tha'! I meant that they need your energy more than you! Yeh could've made 'em lose power completely, then they'd be dead and we'd be stuffed! You're proper mad, you know that?"

His hands were roughly pushed away. Hearing Rimmer get up and move away to an undisclosed location, Lister allowed himself to flop down to the floor and curl into a small, warm crag in the rocks, briefly covering his face with his hands. Why was everything such hard work, these days? Why were his crew mates such hard work? He forgave himself for his quick temper, because he was hardly in an ideal situation, but he wasn't sure how to feel about what he had said. Rimmer had deserved it, undoubtedly, but he still felt awful. At any other point in history, he absolutely would not have cared about hurting the guy's feelings, because his general lack of caring was entirely mutual.

Now, he wasn't too sure.

"I've switched to battery. Does that make you happier, your majesty?" came the expected response. God, but the hatred therein was positively tangible. Lister closed his eyes and tried to ignore it.

"How long've you got?"

"A few hours. If there's anything you want to say, then say it now before my bee dies and you have no way of charging it."

"I haven't got anythin' to say," he lied. Oddly enough, it hurt to say it, like a dull, tooth-ache kind of pain, only jabbing somewhere in his chest. "Was just havin' you on the other day. I don't know what you were expectin'."

"Nothing of importance, I'm sure."

And that was that, at least for an hour or so. It was much like the times they argued and then went to bed in seething silence. The next morning, they always acted like nothing had happened and continued on as normal. It was going to be rather more difficult to do that, this time, not because of the extent to which they had both angered each other, but because they couldn't go to sleep and use the time that passed as a means to cool off.

Well, Lister could sleep, but he didn't want to. He feared waking up alone. He had to stay awake to stop his companion from doing anything else idiotic, like walking out into an awful storm and getting his light bee blasted twenty miles across the vast wasteland. As such, he kept his ears peeled for any sign of movement, and wondered if Rimmer was doing the same.

He was exhausted, however. His fierce determination to stay awake only made him more tired. That, along with his headache and nausea, eventually coerced him into dozing off. Just for a second, or so he allowed himself to think. Nothing was going to happen in such a small space of time, was it?

He almost achieved forgetting where he was, albeit for a short time. His coat was comfortable enough that he momentarily thought that he was in his bed on Red Dwarf, peaceful and content. His brain wasn't entirely fooled, however, and had the sense to acknowledge that anything could have happened in the short period in which he was dead to the world.

Though his eyes were closed, he could see a bright light behind them, one that briefly stunned him upon actually looking at what it was. Lister quickly sat upright and struggled to pull himself up onto his feet, his mouth agape.

It was like he was dreaming. The entire cavern was lit up in a soft, silvery light, the source of which was Rimmer, who was stood in the centre of the decent space. The hologram was looking down at himself like he had never seen his own body before, swaying a little and turning his hands this way and that. As Lister approached, he could see immediately that something was extremely off about the way his bunkmate looked.

He was too … pretty, like somebody had showered him in glitter. His brown hair shone with gingery flecks, his skin was perfectly smooth and softly glowing. He took Lister's breath away when he turned and held out his arms as if to show him what was happening. The hologram adopted an expression that was almost tender in nature. It suited him more than it should have, as did the lovely smile that sprung up out of nowhere.

Lister felt his heart thrum excitedly in his chest. His ability to reason was turned to dust.

"Arnie, I – you -" Unable to speak cohesively, he cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeh need to stop. Your battery is gonna die any second now. Why're you lightin' up the place?"

Rimmer's held tilted curiously. He looked Lister up and down with twinkling eyes, still smiling that sweet and thoroughly ill-matched smile.

"I thought I heard something," he murmured hazily. "Outside. And stop worrying. My bee's signal has latched onto another infrastructure."

Confused and enthralled, Lister rubbed the back of his neck and stared at his companion. He couldn't help it. It was like gazing upon a glowing jewel, or an angel. He had no idea that projection units were able to enhance their image in such a way, and he was clueless as to why the guy was choosing to do it here, of all places.

"Listy?" Rimmer murmured, drawing forwards with a look that was somehow both beseeching and inviting. "Will you help me look outside?"

Something was wrong. He was being far too polite and nice. Lister tried to back away, but he couldn't. It was like his brain was utterly fixated on the glowing spectre before him, and all he wanted was to do whatever it wanted. He wanted to touch it to see if it felt as wonderful as it looked.

So he did. He tentatively reached out and touched Rimmer's cheek. The hologram moved his face into his palm, much like a cat would.

"Y-yeah," Lister found himself saying. "Anythin' you want, man."

Bloody hell. It was worth it just for the smile.

But angels didn't exist. Rimmer wasn't sweet, and he certainly never smiled like that.

"But fair warnin'," Lister continued, removing his hand from the man's face. "As soon as we get out there, I'm bashin' your head in. Yeh can leave now, on your own, and avoid that, but I ain't getting eaten by you or your nasty GELF spawn, awright?"

It was a pleasure GELF. It had to be. It folded its arms and huffed, suddenly appearing much more Rimmer-like and rather more convincing, but Lister already had it sussed.

"I am not a GELF. I'm just trying to be nice."

The words were like an echo of days past. Eerie, to say the least, but Lister still wasn't convinced. The thing could've worked its way into the hologram's memory bank somehow.

"Why're you trying to be nice?" he asked, humouring the creature to give himself time to think of a plan.

"Because I'm lonely, David Lister. I've been alone for so long. You start forgetting what being nice means, really."

David Lister? How did the thing know his name? Could it read the rest of his mind as well as his innermost desires?

"Er, who am I talkin' to?" he asked uncertainly, now completely befuddled.

The creature, still posing as Rimmer, rolled its eyes. "Ugh. Humans. I almost forgot how idiotic you all were. I am the infrastructure hosting this device. I latched onto this light bee's signal to communicate with it. I exist within the planet's core. Two-million years ago, I was created and sent off to roam the Universe, looking for the answers to mankind's questions. I got bored of that, though, so I terraformed a planet around myself to try and create my own Earth. Thought it would be nice, you know, having little creatures wondering around on me. I'd never be lonely that way."

Lister rubbed his eyes to ensure that he wasn't dreaming. When he removed his hands, the glowing hologram was still watching him almost expectantly.

"Um, why did you …?" he began, not entirely sure how to phrase his question. "Why are you tryin' to seduce me into goin' outside, exactly?"

Rimmer began wringing his hands anxiously, much as he often did. It seemed the massive computer now operating him was borrowing from his various quirks and mannerisms, and it was extremely strange to watch.

"Well. About that. I'll tell you, I suppose. Just to be nice. I borrowed from those marvellous creatures on Earth, those angler fish. You know, the ones with the dangly lights that lure their prey into their maws? After observing your body language around this projection unit for a time, I thought I could use it to, well ..."

"Use it to what? Eat me? You're a smeggin' artificial intelligence!"

Rimmer worriedly tugged at his uniform's collar. "Look, my planet has become a chaotic mess. Some time ago, I drifted past a cluster of decimated planets. Something from them latched onto me, an enormous GELF queen that now resides under the ice, feasting off my home's energies. I have a parasite literally eating me and laying its gross little eggs everywhere! I thought if I feed her a sacrifice, she might consider leaving for greener pastures. You know?"

"No way, man. No way. We'll help yeh get rid of the queen if you help us get back to our ship, and maybe answer a few questions. There's no need for anybody to get eaten! Why's that the first idea you had?"

The computer appeared stuck for a moment. "Oh. Well, like I said, it's been lonely. The GELF doesn't like to talk when she's eating. Which is all the time. Now that I think about it, your idea is probably the better one, so I've sent a homing beacon to your friends. They'll be able to land in the eye of the storm where it's calmer. In the meantime, carry on down into this cave and you'll come across my inner works. I'll be able to talk to you there and give you some weapons."

Lister sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "All right. You got a name?"

"Yes. Hubble VI. As a token of my appreciation, I'll answer one of your questions now."

Well. He could've asked the computer anything. Was there any way he could get back to Earth? Were there any human civilisations out there in the cosmos he could find and integrate into? And the age-old question: what was the meaning of life?

What came out of his mouth didn't exactly correspond with what was in his head. It was typical, wasn't it? A once in a lifetime chance crippled by his stupid brain.

"What's the difference between love and hate?"

Rimmer's head tilted as Hubble VI calculated an answer. His eyes went somewhat fuzzy for a few seconds.

"Biologically, the same parts of your brain are involved when feeling either love or hate. Your cerebral cortex – the part responsible for your ability to reason – takes a huge hit, too. In all honesty, little has changed in that department since you were mindless apes moping about in caves. Love and hate are a product of human evolution, both means by which you can achieve your goals and be successful, whether it be to find a mate or kill the rival that's been eyeing them up. The two just come hand in hand, really. To answer your question, the two could be considered a singular, nameless entity, an emotion that drives you to behave or think in an impassioned manner. Your human morality forces this passion into love and hate, good and bad, but the line between both has always been thin." Rimmer paused, eyeing Lister with a raised eyebrow. "To answer more appropriately regarding your little quandary, you are perceiving your strong feelings in a different way to how you used to. That's about as much as I can say. I'm a computer, not an agony aunt."

Lister was certain his question had finally been answered, but he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. He bowed his head and contemplated the explanation as best he could, except he didn't really have the mind for such things. He had always just gone with the wind, as it were, but had since been blown into a wall with no way up or around.

"Can I have me mate back, now?" he asked, scuffing his foot on the ground and refusing to look upwards.

"Fine. Continue downwards, then. Oh, and watch out for GELF spawn. This particular breed are almost the opposite of pleasure GELFs. They'll inflict visions of your worst fears. Got it?"

Without waiting for a reply, Hubble VI relinquished their presence in Rimmer's light bee. The hologram flinched and took several steps backwards, hands immediately landing upon his midriff. More of a concern, apparently, was his own appearance, and he took the time to look down over himself with wide eyes.

"Lister, would you care to tell me why I look like I've been having the time of my life in the Cat's wardrobe?"

Lister quickly moved to his bunkmate and held his arm to keep him steady. "Your bee is bein' overclocked to its limits, that's why. I mean, it looks great, but yeh'd better cool it off before somethin' burns out. You just got overtaken by the -"

"Hubble VI. I know, Lister."

The poor Scouser felt his blood turn cold. "What else has it told yeh?"

"Uh, something about a parasitic queen latched to this planet's crust. We do get all the disgusting missions, don't we? Where are the others?"

"On their way. We've gotta head down there," Lister said, gesturing at the gaping, dark tunnel behind him and hoping his relief wasn't evident. He saw Rimmer's throat bob in a fearful swallow.

"Ah. Well, I may just leave myself in overdrive until we find some light. Hubble VI has more than enough energy to keep it maintained. I think."

Walking proved difficult for Lister, whose leg throbbed painfully with every step. Though he tried to hide his pain as they made off down the volcanic cavern, he ended up with one arm wrapped around Rimmer's shoulders so that he could lean on him as they went. It proved a little easier, but they were forced to go slowly to make up for his unideal condition.

There was nothing like almost being fed to a giant GELF by an attention-starved computer to get him thinking about things. If he had to say something to Rimmer, then it was better done sooner rather than later.

Lister had never thought of himself a gutless coward, but he definitely felt like one, now. It didn't help that the hologram still appeared as the creature meant to seduce him, all of his good features ridiculously enhanced into synthetic beauty and his projection working in blindingly gorgeous 16k definition. The more Lister chanced subtle glances in his direction, the more he wished for them to come across a lit corridor so that Rimmer could return to his usual self.

Gutless, spineless idiot. All the things he called Rimmer on a daily basis. It hardly seemed fair now that Lister couldn't summon up the courage to speak frankly about what he was feeling. His excuse was that he wasn't just staying quiet for his own sanity, but for the other man's, too.

"God, will you hurry up, Lister? I feel like I'm dragging a reluctant walrus to its deathbed."

And to think this was the guy he was agonising over.

"Did you just call me a walrus? Bloody smegger. I'll shove a walrus sideways up your bum if you start whingin'."

"We're about to kill a parasitic GELF on behalf of a crazed computer. I'll whinge all I like, matey."

"I guess yeh haven't tried to run away, yet. That's somewhat impressive."

Rimmer snorted. "Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll run away and build myself a castle of ice where I'll gather all my penguin friends every Sunday afternoon and treat them to blancmange."

"You have friends? That's a good one."

The pair continued bickering for several long minutes. They were still relatively fresh from their recent arguments, of course, and still angry, but they only really had each other in their bizarre situation, at least until Cat and Kryten could reach them. Lister was growing more and more peeved that it was becoming such a struggle to walk across the uneven ground, and he was too proud to let his companion carry him again, thinking that if Rimmer wanted to help to that extent, he already would have asked.

The black walls of the tunnel eventually evened out into something more artificial. Even further along, everything was so sleek and shiny that the walls turned completely reflective, presumably some sort of volcanic glass that had been meticulously chiselled away by someone.

Rimmer stopped walking and darted over to the wall, staring at his own reflection in disbelief. Lister took the opportunity to stop and rest for a moment.

"Lister, look! What the hell did that electronic gimboid do to me? My ears are smaller! And my nose has shrunk. My hair isn't springing out in every direction! I'm … I'm handsome. At last, I don't have to look in the mirror every day and see Shaggy Rogers' long lost twin."

No sooner as he said it, the heavenly light he was emitting from his body suddenly went out and his holographic form returned to normal.

"Oh."

Fortunately, the tunnel was dimly lit there on out by long, white tubes set beneath the clear floor. Lister surmised that Hubble VI had deemed it wise to stop sending so much energy Rimmer's way now that they could actually see where they were going without it. Poor Rimmer's immediate disappointment was evident, so Lister approached and gave him a kindly pat on the back.

"You didn't need it. Honest."

"Then why did it do it in the first place?"

"Er … I dunno. Maybe it's never seen somethin' like you before and wanted to experiment a bit," the Scouser lied, wincing as he did. "Yeh look like you again. It's better. How's your bee?"

Pulling a face, Rimmer pried himself away from his reflection and brought an arm around the other man's waist to resume helping him walk.

"Fine," he grumbled, his ears flushing pink for reasons unknown. It was a rather fetching look, and one more appealing because it was more like him than a superficial, angelic glow. "I think you've taken one too many hits on the head, personally."

It happened, then.

Something inside Lister snapped, and for once, it wasn't his temper. Forgetting the pain he was in, he awkwardly steered Rimmer toward the wall and pressed the other man's back against it. For a silly amount of time, they just stood there and looked at each other, Rimmer befuddled and Lister determined, the latter with his hands placed either side of the former to ensnare him.

"You look positively rabid. What on earth is the matter?" Rimmer asked nervously, assuming a slight defensive stance. "Look, I'm still angry at you, too -"

"Forget that," Lister demanded. His mind was a confusing mixture of blank and haywire, both excited and trying to disassociate from what he was doing. "I don't wanna startle yeh, but there's just somethin' I really need to do. Just for a sec. Just in case one or both of us snuffs it."

Why now? He wasn't quite sure. He had been at the breaking point for a good while, diligently holding himself back and trying to think about other things. He had encouraged arguments to try and replace fondness with anger, but it hadn't helped. He had never, not once, acted on his stupid attraction to the guy.

Maybe he had taken one or two nasty knocks to the head. Maybe he was just sick to death of pretending he wasn't feeling what he was. It wasn't like him to lie to himself. Not all the time.

As desperation took hold, he held the front of Rimmer's smock and then leaned in to gently press their lips together.

It was nice. There were no celebratory fireworks, but Lister felt a lovely contentment seep through his limbs, which was even better. He had kissed other blokes before, but almost always as gestures of friendship as opposed to anything else. This was different. He really meant it, and he tried to show that through tender ministrations, taking advantage of his partner's paralysed state to proper go for it.

God, but his mouth was so nice and soft. Lister could have kissed it all day. So entranced was he that he barely noticed being weakly pushed away.

And then came the horrible reminder that acting on impulse often came with consequences. He always had to do it, didn't he? He always had to act without thinking.

But he had thought about it. An awful lot, actually. It was just in that moment he hadn't been able to take any more.

Rimmer turned an assortment of colours very quickly. He went from red to purple, then to green, then to a rather sickly white. There was even a slight emulation of sweat on his forehead. He didn't appear as traumatised as Lister had imagined, but he was definitely shocked by what had just happened, and who could blame him? The guy who swapped insults with him on a daily basis had just moulded their mouths together in a kiss that had been far from unpleasant.

Regardless, the hologram rudely wiped his mouth on a sleeve and adopted an expression that would have been more suited to stepping in something disgusting.

"Did one of them dare you to do that?" he finally asked. "I'm sick of being the subject of your crude bets, Lister."

"That's not it, man," Lister replied sheepishly, scratching nervously at one of his hands. His reply must have been convincing enough, because Rimmer's face fell a second time.

"Then what?"

What was it that old song said? It's now or never. The words had never applied so patently in his life. Hell, it wasn't like he could make up some rubbish excuse to try and explain away what he had just done.

"I, erm ..." He clenched his eyes shut and braced himself for the turmoil. "I like yeh. I mean, I wasn't sure, so I did that to kinda figure it out. I've gotten a bit fond of yeh and it's been drivin' me crazy. I'm sorry if I surprised you, kay? And I know yeh've got all these voices firing off, tellin' you it's wrong, but it really ain't, Arn. I know what I'm feelin' isn't wrong."

Rimmer looked like he had just been punched across the face. It was an improvement on the suspicious look he had been acquiring as Lister spoke.

"It's fine if you just wanna forget I did anythin'. I can deal with tha'. I couldn't deal with you not knowin'. It wasn't fair."

"I don't think becoming fond of someone involves snogging them out of the blue, really, does it?"

"Well, sometimes!" Lister retorted defensively. "Just forget it, 'kay?"

"You're just -"

"Nah, Rimmer! I'm not space-crazy, I'm not desperate, and I'm not thinkin' of somebody else."

The hologram looked as if he was about to pass out. Lister made to help him, holding onto his arms to keep him upright.

"Kochanski?" was all Rimmer could manage. Lister glanced downwards and shook his head.

"No. Things change, don't they? Stuff happens that you don't really expect, sometimes, but you've gotta roll with it. That's life, innit?"

Arnold ran a hand through his mop of curls, dislodging the gel that had been neatly holding it in place. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself. Taking in Lister's sincere expression, he again appeared as if he was about to flop to the ground like a dead fish.

"You're being serious, aren't you?" he asked, following a nervous gulp.

"Yeah, man."

"Listy, I don't – I'm not – There's no …"

At first, Lister thought that Rimmer was stammering, but he quickly realised that he was actually glitching, given the occasional distortion whenever he changed sentences. There was no way that he could help stop it, other than calm the hologram down and hope that he didn't give himself malware. Unfortunately enough, malware was a frequent occurrence when this particular hologram was involved, as the viruses were nothing more than overloading of things like bitterness, resentment, or self-doubt.

"Rimmer, don't worry about it, all right? I won't bring it up again, I swear."

The projection abruptly dissolved. It was something of a failsafe that Kryten installed to help prevent the viruses. When in doubt, just switch something off and on again.

But the light bee didn't turn back on. It just bounced off the glass floor and rolled somewhere close to Lister's left foot. It was one way of avoiding an awkward conversation, he supposed, as be bent down to pick it up and gaze somewhat morosely at it.

"I know yeh can hear me, Arn. I can't explain none o' this. I hope we can still be mates."

With a frown, he slipped the light bee into his coat pocket.

Though he felt terrible, something within him felt at peace, too. He'd finally had the balls to say it, and now he could never regret not saying a word.

But had it been the right thing?