Happy New Year everyone! Hope you had a good 'un.
Sorry for the delay in updating, chaps. I spent most of November in India (and writing up most of this fic in note form I'll have you know!) and December was CRAZY busy. Now that January's arrived and the snow is keeping us indoors, let's all warm ourselves up with a nice yummy Ace fic, right? ^_^
As always, reviews are very much appreciated. Thank you.
Rimmer stared down at the gloopy, black substance in his mug that was haphazardly trying to pass itself off as coffee. His lip curled involuntarily, unsure whether to drink it or attempt to use it to fuel Wildfire.
The man turned back to face him, clutching a mug of his own, and caught the dubious look on Rimmer's face.
"How embarrassing. You've caught me before I had a chance to pop to the corner shop," he announced breezily. "Fresh out of Darjeeling tea and Cappuccino mix, I'm afraid."
Rimmer's eyes narrowed as the man smirked into his mug. Although his tone seemed jovial enough, Rimmer was a self-made expert on the art of sarcasm, and this gentleman before him was definitely a snide Van Gogh in the making.
"Drink up," the man urged. "Soon you'll be well on your way to recovery."
He flashed him a friendly wink that shook loose a flurry of memories; old and somehow just out of reach. He growled inwardly. He was supposed to be playing the hero, not Hank Handsome here. Yet his confident attitude and friendly banter made him feel like his old, cowardly self once more.
Out of the corner of his eye, Rimmer spotted an old, weather-beaten jacket hung carefully over the back of the chair. He checked the rank on his arm. An SCM. That explained everything.
Rimmer had always hated Space Corps Marines. They were the type of people who heroically swept back their perfectly blonde hair from their perfectly blue eyes, announcing "Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast!" before dashing off on some damn fool suicide mission.
Rimmer stopped himself mid-rant. Hmm. Pot, kettle, black?
But he was different. He wasn't genuinely like that. He was simply pretending to be like that for the sake of continuity. He was the type who loved staying in on a Friday night, sipping a glass of Claret and playing another round of Risk.
Was.
Rimmer could see now why his predecessors had all relished the chance to become Ace. He had to admit, it felt like such a release after years of repression; using his near-indestructible hard-light body to throw himself into the deepest, darkest depths of trouble was so much more exciting than being cooped up in the same ship, day after day, year after year.
As Rimmer glanced back up to the man before him, something made his heart stop for a fleeting moment. He'd half-turned to rustle through some papers on the table beside him when Rimmer caught the outline of his profile. Something jarred in him again. This guy really reminded him of someone, like a strange case of déjà vu. With his wheat-coloured hair and clear green eyes, this man before him seemed like an echo of someone he once knew.
The man caught his look and nodded towards the cup. "Come on then," he chided warmly. "You going to drink that or just stare at it?"
Rimmer blinked. John. He reminded him of his brother, John.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. The whole over-familiarity and hero-playing wasn't sitting with him overly well. Rimmer placed the untouched mug on the table beside the bed and stood to leave.
"Look - "
"McGruder."
Rimmer paused. "Look, McGruder. I appreciate the erm - " he glanced back down to the mug. He was going to say 'coffee' but stopped himself. That really didn't seem the right word. "But I really don't need your help."
"Of course you don't need my help," McGruder reiterated thoughtfully with a distant nod. He slowly raised his coffee for a second slurp, an unimpressed eyebrow flicking above the rim. "I remember vividly how you kicked some serious arse when it came to those simulants," he added with a mumble into the mug.
It had been many years since the days Lister would bait him with simple yet effective lyrical traps. But old habits die hard, and Rimmer fell hook, line and sinker.
He scowled. "I was - " Rimmer snapped in his old, snide tone, before catching himself with a less-than-subtle clearing of the throat. "I was doing perfectly fine, thank you very much, until - " he tailed off, trying desperately to recall what had indeed happened. His face sagged, not quite able to sustain the dirty look he was shooting in McGruder's direction. "Erm - "
"Ah, the shock, you mean?" McGruder's eyebrows knotted awkwardly as he examined his zealously over-polished boots. "That was my fault, I'm afraid. I had to resort to EDD's help."
Rimmer blinked. "Ed?"
"EDD - Electronic Deactivation Device." McGruder pulled out a small, black device, no larger than a remote control, from his utility belt and proffered it to Rimmer, who eyed it carefully.
"My own invention," he explained. "Although, it's painfully crude to the point of Blue Peter levels of simplicity, it can have a seriously devastating effect. Basically, it creates a power surge in all electronic life-forms, temporarily disabling them." He grinned happily to himself as he tossed and caught it playfully, an overly jockish act that rubbed Rimmer up worse than an intimate massage with a tube of Deep Heat. "This baby has got me out of more than one scrape, I can tell you. It's fried simulants, droids - "
Rimmer snatched the device at the apex of its flight. "Holograms?" he offered, incredulous.
McGruder flashed an awkward smile. "Evidently, yes," he admitted.
Rimmer tightened his grip on the device in his hand, a notch below the pressure needed to crush it beyond repair. "You could have killed me!" he hissed through gritted teeth.
"And those simulants would have killed you if I'd have left you to it!" McGruder snapped back, reigning back some choice words. "I thought it was the lesser of two evils." He leant back against the counter behind him. "Besides, the SOS was from a human ship. What was I supposed to think when I saw you? And second case in point, you don't seem to have the, well - " He trailed off awkwardly and tapped his forehead with his finger.
Rimmer felt a wrench of embarrassment. He'd always hated the way he'd been branded with an 'H' for so many years of his death. Although the past nine years as Ace had allowed him to shed it, its mark still felt like it was branded on him.
"Well surely there are other holograms out there that don't have the same mark?" he probed.
"Let's just say humans and holograms don't mix well," McGruder raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't know."
Rimmer's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
The grin fell from McGruder's face as he stared at him strangely. "Have you even visited this dimension recently? I know the last rumoured sighting of the 'Ace' or 'Alpha' in this sector was hundreds of years ago but - "
"Holograms and humans don't get on?" Rimmer ventured.
McGruder snorted. "That's like saying holograms and simulants 'don't get on'. Understatement of the century." Catching Rimmer's confused look, he continued. "The holograms and simulants have been locked in some stupid war for centuries. They've got plenty of reasons not to get on. Simulants love to try and kill the indestructable. Holograms are legendarily arrogant, and don't want any other species getting in the way when it comes to their quest to get to the top of the food-chain so to speak."
Rimmer grimaced. He remembered all too well from his encounter with the SSS Enlightenment what a bunch of arrogant, pompous entities they all were. Well, bar one…
"They've even been known to ransack derelicts and restore more holograms to help shore up the numbers in the war. Like pawns I suppose."
Rimmer shook his head loosely, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. "You're right. It has been a while."
McGruder dropped his voice to a whisper. "So you might want to keep the fact you're really a hologram to yourself. The others might not be so enamoured with you if they find out."
Rimmer blinked in shock. "Others?"
McGruder nodded but didn't elaborate. "But before I do, I've got to say it. There's one thing I need to know. If 'Ace' the legendary, immortal man and protector of the human race is actually not one of us," he paused, "what other secrets could you be hiding?"
Rimmer frowned. "I'm not hiding anything. What makes you think I mean you any harm?"
McGruder nodded thoughtfully before swivelling back to rummage through the cupboards behind his knees. When he turned back to face him, Rimmer froze. His eyes dropped down to the all-too-familiar guns in his hands and then back up to McGruder warily, waiting in silent expectation.
McGruder chewed over the prospect as he too surveyed the guns. "You see, I've never trusted people I've run into that were so artfully armed." He turned them over in his hands, glancing down the sights experimentally. "They either tend to be the type of people who go looking for trouble - " McGruder regarded him suspiciously through hooded eyes. " - or that trouble always seems to follow them around."
Rimmer maintained his gaze wordlessly. After a thoughtful pause, McGruder placed the guns and belt onto the table beside them with a relenting sigh.
"Let's just hope you don't fall into either category."
As McGruder turned to shrug on his jacket, Rimmer quickly slipped on the gun belt. When he glanced back up, McGruder was waiting for him at the now open door with a distant smile.
"Welcome to the Colony. Let me show you around."