Thanks ever so much to all of you lovely readers for the kind messages and well-wishes following the birth of my daughter - very much appreciated. In return, I worked hard (and often one-handed!) to get this next chapter written and uploaded!

Merry Christmas everyone.

"So let me get this straight," Rimmer sighed for the fourth time that morning. "On the one hand, we have a man with a proven track record in dealing with intergalactic hostage situations. And on the other, we have a man who couldn't negotiate his way out of a can of lager." He tapped a thoughtful finger against his lips. "Now, remind me again why you think I should stay and you should go?"

Crawling his way through the dark ducts of the SS Occassus, Lister scowled at the memory. His brain had fished through a thousand and one reasons why, but refused to pin a single one down. Maybe because he wanted to prove to the haughty hologram that he wasn't the only one who had changed over the last two years. Or perhaps because he had a horrible suspicion that Rimmer and Kris would appreciate some free 'bunk-up' time.

"Because it's my fault we're in this mess," he'd confessed, face grim. "If I'dve been straight with Rimmer from the start - told him the truth about who he was when he asked me straight out - none of this would've happened."

Rose's face bunched in sympathy. "That's not true," she reassured. "In Ace's game, retirement is always a far more dangerous end than dying. If anyone's to blame here, it's me for letting it happen."

"Excellent, good to know." Rimmer folded his arms, eyebrow raised. "I feel comforted by the prospect that my job will eventually be terminated with my P45 tacked to my coffin."

"Rimmer, I'm serious. You've gotta stay," Lister implored. "Getting 'im back is gonna be too risky for the likes of Kris to tag along." He grimaced. "Let's face it. This jaunt's gonna be about as safe for a woman as a night at the Bates' Motel."

Sensing Rimmer's wavering uncertainty, Lister shot him a meaningful look. If the smegger had laid claim to Kochanski, he damn well needed to keep to the responsibilities that came with it.

"I need you to stay and look after her, man," he said, voice low with sad resignation.

Lister shuffled through the darkness, blindly feeling out his route. An enlightened 23rd Century guy he may be, but he was a traditionalist at heart. Near-suicidal rescue missions were no place for a lady.

"David Lister, that is the second time that your arm has 'accidentally' brushed against my bottom." Despite the cramped conditions, Nirvanah still craned back over her shoulder to shoot him a reproachful frown. "Please ensure it's the last."

Fine - almost any lady. Women who were already dead didn't count.

"Pardonez-moi," he offered sarcastically, his Scouse accent snagging on each perfectly-crafted French syllable. "But believe it or not, I don't really enjoy squeezing up against yer, y'know." Swallowing back the lump of claustrophobia that sat thick in his throat, he blinked at his words. "Part of me feels like I may regret sayin' that later."

"Well I'm afraid we have little choice," Nirvanah sniped back. "I've been locked out of the ship's access codes and my profile has been logged as 'arrest on sight'." She heaved a sigh. "The only hope we have of getting into this godforsaken ship is sneaking in through the back door, so to speak."

Pulling out the electronic mapping device from her pocket, she regarded it carefully. "Only a few hundred feet further starboard and we'll reach the Hologram Simulation Suite." She shook her head, her features set firm. "It's bound to be where they're holding Arnie captive."

"Only a few hundred feet," Lister echoed weakly.

With a visible shudder, he glanced back to the screeching sounds of metal on metal that echoed in the distant darkness. It seemed that the duct was proving a tad small for the mechanoid's broad shoulders.

"How you doin' back there, Krytes?" he called.

"Oh absolutely peachy, sir," came the chirpy, echoed reply. "Rest assured, although on first glance it may appear to be a botch-job, I've successfully managed to detach and re-attach my arms on at least two previous occasions in my run-time." There was a doubting pause. "And if all else fails, I did bring along my instruction manual for your perusal."

Lister closed his eyes and adopted the relaxation techniques the hapless mechanoid had once taught him. If he was going to meet his maker this way, he was at least semi-grateful his head would lay to rest on a woman's arse.

"Trust me, Mr Lister. Third time is certainly not the charm."

The sweat stood out cold on Rimmer's brow, sliding round the electrodes strapped to his temples.

The numerous voices were muffled beyond the thick glass of the chamber that held him, but he clearly understood their intent. This was - as they say - it. The last dribbles of doubt that this was all some kind of sick joke were currently gurgling noisily down Satan's own plug-hole.

Rimmer tried to swallow back the ticklingly hot lump of panic that was clawing up his throat. The premise that he had once been Ace was now frighteningly plausible, and yet he wasn't sure which unnerved him more. How or why he'd forgotten something so huge? Or the niggling thought that Lister had known the truth all along.

Increasingly desperate, he rapped fervently on the glass, trying to snare someone's attention.

"Erm - hello?" He blinked at the timid voice that squeaked forth in place of the authoritative confidence he'd been aiming for. "I - uh - " He licked away dry lips. "I was rather hoping that perhaps I could first exercise my right to consultation with the top point of authority as per Section 495? Maybe?"

Deep down, he knew that the crew would be as receptive to the detailing of Space Corps Directives as Lister during an ear-bleeding guitar session. But he couldn't help but wonder why their behemoth of a Captain - who had once been watching over the preparation proceedings with the glee of a Cheshire cat - was now so conspicuously absent. Some lower-ranked minion had scuttled in some five minutes earlier, nervously calling him to some urgent business in the Drive Room. And now Rimmer's silent hope that his absence would halt proceedings had been quashed with all the force of a fly underneath that morning's rolled-up newspaper.

He smiled winningly - a rarely-used expression that was still brushing off moth balls as it was dragged forth, unprepared, into conscripted service. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement," he smarmed. "Perhaps over some tea and - ?"

CRRRRREAAAAAAAAKKKK

Rimmer's eyes slowly tracked up to the strange, strained noise overhead, his polite offer flailing. " - biscuits of some descrip- ?"

CRRRRREAAAAAAAAKKKK

" -tion?"

A series of loud CLANGS sounded from the ceiling across the suite, snatching the attention of the crew. There was a tantalising pause before a long stretch of overhead panels crashed to the floor as an entire section of service duct pierced through the ceiling, splitting neatly in two. Two squealing figures - one limb-challenged mechanoid and a short, dumpy human clad in leather - plummeted to the deck, the mangled metallic remains of the duct following in quick, clattering succession.

Rimmer blinked twice in shock as Lister glanced up and stared out across the room - eyes wide like a rabbit trapped in headlights. Everyone in the room, equally flummoxed, stared back.

Silence held the suite in an icy grasp. An awkward cough sounded from one of the console operators somewhere near the back of the room.

Eventually, Kryten proffered a gesturing shrug, smiling brightly. "I don't suppose I could borrow a screwdriver, sirs?" he probed.

The slap of Nirvanah's palm against her H-emblazoned forehead was audible even from the dark depths of the open duct above.

"You're absolutely sure?"

Rose's brilliant mind calculated that she had precisely 1,452 smart-arse replies to that particular question. Yet she plumped for an old favourite nonetheless.

"No," she huffed. "I thought I'd just tell you that the scanner scope had picked up on a simulant vessel heading towards the Occassus for a laugh." She thrust her hands on her hips, mirroring his trade-mark scowl. "Of course I'm bloody sure!"

Rimmer swallowed. "And we definitely can't get a message to them to abandon ship and get the hell out of there?"

"Their comms link is down," Rose sighed. "Probably interference from the Occassus's own communications wavelengths." She sauntered back into the cockpit, calling over her shoulder. "Unless anyone's got a carrier pigeon or is fantastic at long-distance semaphore, then we're kinda screwed."

Rimmer's eyes darted right and left as they searched the deck, clearly torn. On the one hand, if he left Kochanski to warn Lister and the others about the incoming simulants, he was potentially putting her safety at risk.

But there was a flip side of this rather undesirable coin. If he stayed to protect Kochanski and left the Occassus defenceless, Lister and the others could be caught in the middle of a very nasty scuffle between the holograms and the simulants in their quibble over his predecessor.

For the last few minutes, Kochanski had been gnawing nervously at the tip of her thumb, silently worrying over Lister and what could befall him if left to the simulants' rage. Yet the cogs in Rimmer's mind were so audible, even she could hear them from across the mid-section.

"Don't worry about me," she assured quietly. "You need to go. I know you want to."

Rimmer shifted in agitation from one foot to the other. "It's not that simple," he exhaled. "It's not just the simulants I'm not chummy with. The holograms aren't exactly on my Christmas card list either." He dismissed Kochanski's puzzled look with a wave of the hand. "Politics," he surmised, "with far too much boring history."

Crossing to the table, he scuffed his boot against the grating of the deck. "It's a moot point anyway," he recalled reluctantly. "Lister told me to stay with you."

His set tone intimated closure on the discussion. However, it clearly wasn't a decision he agreed with, Kochanski realised with a sideways glance. She watched in amusement as Rimmer's fingers twitched, drumming against his thigh as if to channel the energy that coursed within.

"Oh, please! Don't give me that," she snorted, dismissive eyes tracking him as he crossed to the doorway once more. "You're only pacing up and down with a pout you could lay a table on because you've been told to stay indoors whilst the other boys get to play outside."

Rimmer's feathers visibly ruffled at her words but he said nothing in return. Good to know she still remembered how to push his buttons.

"If you want to go then go," she pushed. Treating him to a raised eyebrow, Kochanski drew out the big guns. "Besides, since when did you ever do anything that Lister told you to do?" she prodded.

Although the sense of triumph bubbled under the surface, she kept the resulting ripples on her face to a minimum. She was dangling a carrot Rimmer couldn't refuse and she knew it.

There was a moment of bemused silence as Rimmer simply stared back at her. The drumming paused thoughtfully, as if to allow him the stillness to consider her words, before a wicked grin spread across his face. Arnold had gone. Ace had returned.

"Rose - I better dash," he called through to the cockpit, eyes still locked with hers. Rimmer tore away his gaze to swivel back to the table behind him and snatch up his gun belt. He snapped it on with a rather suspicious enthusiasm. "A rather important appointment has just popped up."

The computer sprite quickly appeared in the doorway, grasping onto the frame so tightly she risked its warranty. "With the holograms?" she cried despairingly before striding back into the mid-section to face him. "Ace, you've been dodging their forced recruitment drive for decades and now you're planning on strolling through the front door?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous." Rimmer drew forth a crude teleporter from his utility belt and began typing in commands, calibrating the necessary coordinates. "More like sneaking in through the back window, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm sure he'll be careful, won't you?" Kochanski prompted, realising that his sarcasm wouldn't be the best way of reassuring the ever-twitchy computer.

Deliberately fiddling with the calibrations in feigned concentration, Rimmer offered nothing to confirm or deny the reassurance. It was a truth he daren't utter out loud, even to himself. The thrill of this new life was so dangerously exhilarating that he sometimes wondered what the hell he was doing. Playing with fire was far too fun. It was like a drug he'd dabbled in at first but now couldn't give up.

After all, if you knew how it was all going to end, you might as well enjoy the ride.

Unnerved by his silence, Kochanski swiftly continued. "And besides, if I'm supposedly in such desperate need of a nanny, you and Cat can stay behind with me - " she glanced back over her shoulder to the faithful feline, " - right?"

Not shifting from his reclined napping position in the swivel chair, the Cat peeled open a single, lazy eyelid. "No worries, Officer BB," he replied smoothly. "As long as I don't have to crease my suit, cut short any meals or interrupt my nap-time, then I can be at your beck and call."

"Yeah, thanks Cat," Kochanski replied flatly.

Rose's critical gaze flitted between each of them in turn. Eventually, she turned back to face the hologram and sighed her relent. "For goodness sake, don't let them catch you."

Rimmer grinned. Her mother-hen-clucking was the closest he would get to a blessing. "Don't fret, my dear," he assured. Flipping back his gun, he snapped in a new magazine. "Should the need for negotiation arise, you know I can be most persuasive." He loaded his gun with a less than subtle click.

Rose rolled her eyes, arms folded. "Something tells me you're not referring to your oral skills."

She flashed him a reproachful eyebrow as Rimmer shoulder-bumped her playfully, a suggestive wink not far behind it. "I've never had any complaints about my - "

"Get gone!"