Happy 2012 peeps! Hope you had a good Christmas/New Year. My husband just beta'd this chapter and concluded - 'It's good. How long did this chapter take you?' Answer - twenty months from original draft. TWENTY MONTHS - almost to the day! Ugh... Well I certainly hope it's been worth it, folks! ^_^
The full appreciation for this chapter probably relies rather heavily on part III of the Ace Chronicles - '124 Days'. So we'll kick off with a little flash back, shall we?
As always, many thanks to all of you who are continuing to follow this fic. Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you.
There was a hush that hung thick in the air between them; a horribly muggy silence that Rimmer had to swallow before he even felt capable of speech.
"He said you know my fate," he managed eventually. A pause, and then, "Is that what's going to happen to me?"
Tonga heaved a weary sigh. "What the mirror shows us isn't always literal. It might not come to pass," he offered gently.
Rimmer brushed a light hand against the mirror's surface before letting it fall into his lap once more. The glass was cold.
In the quiet that followed, Tonga dipped his head low so that his face was obscured in shadow, as if contemplating something, before regarding Rimmer in the mirror once more.
"Sometimes our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate," he explained quietly. "Sometimes our greatest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure."
- Chapter 4: Month Three, '124 Days', The Ace Chronicles
Science Officer McCloud was not a happy camper. In fact, he'd had the week from Satan's own Filofax.
Following his virus scan screw-up earlier in the week, he'd almost been ejected from the company. Through the nearest airlock. Suffice to say he didn't have the most understanding of bosses.
He had to get back into Viktoras's good books and fast. A tall order when Viktoras's good books were often locked in the basement of a library. Based in Guam. Surrounded by a moat of molten lava.
And if the pressure wasn't already enough, this armpit stain of a man seemed hell-bent on making his task a thousand times harder.
"Let me just make sure I'm understanding you correctly," he demanded, less-than-patient. "You break onto this vessel without invitation or a valid pass, destroy the infrastructure to our Hologram Simulation Suite causing incalculable damage, and you insist that I listen to you?"
Lister bit his lip, a limp shrug not far behind it. He had to admit, it sounded worse when the guy summed it up like that.
McCloud scowled in annoyance, sending his glasses sliding down his nose. He pushed them back up into place with a long finger. "Well, I can hardly argue with a reasoning as articulate as that," he sniffed.
Seeing Rimmer held captive in such a cold, clinical environment - trapped behind glass like a rare butterfly specimen - was enough to send the bile rising in Nirvanah's throat. It was an aggressively protective urge she'd never felt before, and it soon found its voice.
"Course not," she spat. "After all, I've heard that you're a man who has a way with words." Her lip curled in disgust. "Saying whatever's necessary to brown-tongue your way up the ranks."
McCloud's lanky form stiffened visibly. He glared down at her petite frame. "Commander Crane, I think you'll find that there's a warrant on the system for your immediate arrest." He jutted his chin in what he hoped would be an authoritative manner. "And I'm sure you know all too well that protocol demands - "
"Oh, screw protocol!" Nirvanah snapped back, her flippancy surprising even herself. She'd become increasingly disillusioned with the holograms' penchant for petty arrogance and was rapidly losing patience for it. "If you wish to have any hope of surviving your shift, I'd suggest you listen to what he has to say."
McCloud's eyes narrowed. "Are you threatening me, Commander?"
"She isn't," Lister cut in. Craning to see over the Officer's tall shoulder, he nodded at the glass chamber. "But he is."
Rimmer couldn't quite make out their muffled conversation beyond the glass, but his resulting bemused expression clearly inspired mocking glee in the Science Officer before him.
"Are you serious?" McCloud snorted as he turned back to face them, lanky arms folding in amusement. "He looks as intimidating as a bunny rabbit wearing a ribbon embroidered with the word 'Boo'."
"Listen, I know he doesn't exactly look like he's capable of anything now," Lister pressed. "But trust me. If you unlock those memory files, you're gonna wish you'dve pulled a sicky this mornin'."
Lister squirmed under the weight of McCloud's derisive eyebrow. Problem was, he didn't know exactly how Rimmer was going to pose a threat to them all. For all he knew, the smegger could draw forth the Space Corps Directives Manual and bore them all to death. But somehow, he got the sense that the soothsayer would have been a little less concerned about warning him of such a mundane scenario.
A persistent buzzer sounded from the comms console behind McCloud who heaved a sigh of relief at its welcome interruption.
"Enough of this tot," he huffed. The hologram gestured in irritable indication to the officer at the main control panel as he strode back to scoop up the receiver. "Begin Mr Rimmer's virus scan. We need to get this show on the road. "
Nirvanah strained to listen as McCloud conducted his radio conversation in hushed tones. A softness that could have been mistaken for the delicacy with which one whispers to a lover. She shuddered. If the speaker in question didn't have the sexual appeal of a pubic louse.
She felt the subtle dig from Lister's elbow and leaned in conspiratorially.
"Virus scan?" he hissed.
The redhead glanced up from under dark eyelashes at McCloud's back before flitting back to Lister. "The Occassus was recently plagued by a holovirus that was picked up on a derelict scouting mission," she whispered. "Supposedly of simulant concoction."
She paused quickly as McCloud half-turned back to them. His own whispered conversation seemed to be becoming more agitated and urgent.
"According to rumours amongst the crew, they lost five of their best men to it," Nivanah continued. "Reports suggested that the virus completely changed them. Rendered them so vengeful and murderous that they even turned on their fellow crewmates." She shook her head sadly. "Probably the reason that they're being so cautious with any new holograms coming aboard."
Lister opened his mouth to speak, but his jaw could offer nothing but a loose silence in response. The cold weight that had sat on his shoulders since he'd first heard the prophecy now began to sink down the back of his neck like melting ice. Slow, relentless and chilling.
What if Kryten's suspicions had been bang on? That Rimmer's increasingly odd behaviour hadn't been caused by a file corruption issue, but a holovirus. A simulant-created holovirus.
He must not be allowed to return. Or he'll be consumed by darkness and destroy everyone and everything in his path.
A simulant-created holovirus that had been trying to needle its way into Rimmer's locked 'Ace' memory files for several days now.
Lister glanced across to the line of technicians at the control panel, blinking unsteadily as they pummelled away at their keyboards.
The holograms weren't just going to risk the virus breaking into those files. They were going to open the door, invite it in and stick the bloody kettle on.
Smeg. With a fresh dollop of smeg on top and an extra order of smeg on the side.
"Code red! I repeat, code red!" McCloud suddenly blurted out to the room, thrusting down the receiver. It missed the hook by a good five inches and fell to hang, lifeless, by its cord. "Simulant craft sighted approximately 20 clicks away!"
Securing the last screw attachment of his shoulder joint into place, Kryten glanced up happily to share the success of his DIY attempt with the others. However, his plastic features soon fell as he took in the chaos that now took hold of the room; holograms scrabbling in all directions to prepare the ship's systems for battle.
"Simulants?" Nirvanah grimaced. It had only been a matter of time before petty recriminations threatened to nip them in the derriere. "Ugh, perfect timing - "
"I'm afraid it is, ma'am," Kryten uttered quietly, rotating his re-attached arm in experimental assessment. At her look of confusion, he elaborated. "Simulants may be as aggressive as the stains on Mr Lister's gussets after curry night, but they are certainly not fools." He nodded in distant comprehension. "They always select their timings most wisely."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, ma'am, that they're not attacking."
Nirvanah watched as the mechanoid's neon-blue eyes flitted about the walls in indication. He was right. Despite the wails of the emergency sirens, there was no audible sign of laser fire against the ship's hull.
Kryten's face was suddenly grim. "They're waiting."
Rasta plaits danced from side to side across his back as Lister shook his head, confused. "Waiting for what - ?"
He stopped dead as the realisation slapped him round the face. The plaits gave their grand finale, leaping gracefully over his shoulder as Lister whipped back to the glass chamber. Rimmer stood in quivering silence, eyes reflecting his fear.
"Oh no - " he breathed.
"Status report, O'Brien!" McCloud barked, trying to snatch eye contact in between the various crewmembers that darted back and forth between them. "Do we have the all-clear for the file unlock?"
Eyes as green as his native homeland flitted over the reams of data that streamed before him. "Virus scan comes up clean, sir!" O'Brien chirped, his Dublin accent strong. "Ready when you are."
No. Lister shook his head but the word refused to escape. No, this couldn't happen.
McCloud nodded his gratitude, pushing up stray glasses once more. At least there'd be no more cock-ups on his shift, he thought to himself as he began typing away furiously at his keyboard. "Preparing for memory download!"
"No!" The cry finally found its release as Lister scrabbled across to join McCloud at the console. "The virus scan is wrong!"
McCloud's lofty hand batted away the warning, like a fly he could barely be bothered to swat at. "Will someone get him out of here?" he sighed. "He's really beginning to test my patience."
As two burly security guards closed in, Lister pressed on hurriedly. "You don't understand!" he pleaded. "He's been showing all the early signs of a holovirus. Memory loss, funny turns, you name it."
"Absurd," McCloud snorted. "Our scans have just showed up clean."
Kryten quickly joined them. "It's a sentient virus, sir. Highly intelligent," he explained. "Indeed, we too were given the same result from our own virus scan. But it's quite plausible that the virus has been lying dormant in Mr Rimmer's memory files, only exploring new pathways in his core programme when we weren't scanning for it."
"It's true," Lister implored. "He may look like a weedy smegger now, but the virus knows that there's a goldmine of potential locked away in there from his time as Ace."
Bear-like arms secured a tight grip around his chest and Lister struggled to free his arms. "For smeg's sake, if you unlock the Ace files you'll give the virus exactly what it wants!"
McCloud growled audibly. "The simulants are practically on our doorstep, threatening to destroy us all and HE," the hologram thrust a finger at Rimmer's look of confused panic, "harbours the capability to become our main defence weapon!" McCloud's face hardened with resolve. "I don't have time for this - "
Lister threw back his entire bodyweight, kicking out his boots in desperation. "No, man, don't!"
McCloud hit 'Return'.
The effect was almost immediate. Rimmer cried out in agony, wrenching his hands back from the glass to press hard against his ears; a desperate attempt to block out a million voices screaming out to him in hundreds of languages, all at once. A ten-year rush of images and sounds blasted through his mind like a tidal wave, smashing through everything he'd once known with little regard for the damage it would leave behind.
Rimmer blinked quickly as he fought to suck in air, vision pulsing. The rush had now slowed enough to snatch hold of individual memories.
Sprawled on his back to soar on a drug-fuelled high with the Kinitowawi, revelling in the warmth of the roaring fire and the laughter between them.
Screwing Sayura, fast and furious. His chest heaving hot in exhilaration at the inter-species experimentation and the risk of being caught. Her husband could be home any minute…
The crowds of Galactic Bazaar parting in reverence to let him through as he strode through the streets, eight simulants lying defeated in his wake.
"It's true," Rimmer gasped to himself. "It's all true - " A jet of air snorted down cavernous nostrils as he tried to straighten once more, tangled in a disconcerting web of disbelief and pride. The rush felt far superior to his dream of becoming an officer. He was a hero.
Oh, yes. Such were the glory moments of playing the part of the legendary Ace Rimmer.
But watching and waiting in the wings of this theatrical production, the virus had no interest in such frivolity. Instead, it probed on until snagging on something most intriguing. A half-forgotten line of script that still seemed branded in the dark shadows of the hologram's mind.
Ten months, three weeks, four days. One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two.
Rimmer blinked in shock, an involuntary shudder worming its way through his body.
Ten months, three weeks, four days. One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two.
Oh, god. He could hear their screams. Their faces were haunting.
One-thousand, three-hundred and thirty-two. The lives that had been lost on the Exodus Colony. Because of him.
Ten months, three weeks, four days. His time in purgatory. The relentless, destructive self-punishment for not saving them.
The realisation sank through his very being and thudded to the pit of his stomach, its intensity almost unbearable.
"I'm so sorry," Rimmer mumbled, jaw trembling uncontrollably. "I tried. I tried so hard - "
The virus ploughed on hungrily, gorging wildly on this feast of negativity. Savouring the anger and the self-loathing until it snagged on something equally delicious. The memory of a man's face.
Still locked in the guard's grasp, Lister could see the face just as clearly on the monitors above them. He'd been struggling to comprehend the furious flicker of images as the memory visuals relentlessly uploaded, yet now they focused intensely on this one man. Not much younger than him, his wheat-coloured hair and clear green eyes looked disconcertingly familiar.
He glanced back to the chamber as Rimmer thumped angrily on the glass between them. His image was beginning to corrupt at the edges, flickering furiously as it flitted between brown curls and blonde locks.
"Liar!" he howled, eyes flaring with accusation. "You promised you wouldn't let me forget him!" Sobs now wracking his chest, he pressed his forehead into the glass with such vindictive force, Lister swore it could shatter. "How could you let me forget him?"
Lister shook his head, confused. "Forget who?" he cried out over the alarm's din.
His head threatened to explode with the guilt. His own son. How could he forget his own son?
"Rimmer, forget who?"
"Forget the bloody interrogation!" McCloud snapped. "He needs to concentrate on recalling his battle skills and fast." He pushed up his wayward glasses once more and gestured to the guard restraining Lister. "Seriously, why isn't he in the brig yet? Somewhere where he can bore the walls with his incessant interruptions?"
O'Brien swallowed, throat suddenly sandpaper-dry. The reams of text from the memory download were becoming more frantic and distorted. "Erm, McCloud, sir - ?" he probed.
Rimmer glanced up shakily. The grey, hooded figure stood amongst the crowd, unnoticed. He'd appeared precisely when he'd meant to. And some part of him knew that he was already expecting his arrival.
Hands still pressed to the glass, Rimmer watched wordlessly as the figure approached; apprehensive in its step but with determined purpose. Transfixed, he froze as it stood before him, pausing for a moment before reaching up to draw back its hood. The face was now free to stare at him in wordless awe.
It was himself.
And in that surreal, paradoxical moment, he remembered. Rimmer almost gagged. He remembered.
Tonga. Blerios 5. He remembered it all; images and sensations now tumbling on top of him.
The markets, the temple, the heat, the sand, the sweat, the training, the pain, the fights, the falls, the mirror….
He fought to breathe, his mind catching on the last memory like the needle skipping on a record player.
The mirror, the mirror, the mirror, the mirror, the mirror, the mirror, the mirror, the mirror…
"McCloud, sir?" O'Brien muttered, more insistently now. His eyes refused to tear away from the screen. "I think something's wrong - "
Rimmer struggled to swallow. This was it. This is what he'd seen all those years ago. His terrifying fate laid bare before him in the guise of a dark and twisted image of his future self.
The mirror's prophecy was coming true. Now, he was the reflection.
And having found exactly what it was after, the virus finally showed its face.
Rimmer's mind suddenly seemed to explode with a blast of black stars that faded just as quickly, leaving behind a sparkle of tingles that felt bitterly cold. It was too strange a sensation to put into words, but something deep down - probably the core part of his electronic being - knew that something was incredibly wrong.
Trembling fingers scrabbled desperately to tear off the electrodes once fastened to his temples. But the damage had already been done.
Rimmer shuddered as the strangle tingles started needling throughout his body. Letting the electrodes drop to the floor, he held out his arms in inspection. An icy chill crept up his spine as he watched the shimmering blue material of his sleeves stain a sinister shade of black. As if the darkness he could feel in his mind was seeping through his clothing, his very image bleeding shadow.
There was nothing human about the thing he could feel crawling through his system; overriding every file, memory, and electrode it could find. He could sense it feeding and thriving on every base thought, every dark memory, every negative emotion that peppered his psyche, deleting everything it deemed to be worthless.
Friendship. Forgotten.
Love. Erased.
Mercy. Obliterated.
The pain was overwhelming, writhing through his body showing little clemency. With distressed static rattling his mind, Rimmer fought to stay calm. He had to concentrate. He had to stay focused on remembering who he was. He had to…
Ooh. This was beginning to feel rather good.
Rimmer bathed in the exhilarating rush that this new-found freedom was slowly bestowing upon him. His eyes peeled open, snorting with derision at the scene before him. Did these holograms truly think that they could harness his abilities? Reduce him to nothing but a pawn in their squabbling war against the simulants? Pitiful.
He was single-handedly accomplished at overthrowing dictators and defeating empires. Once they knew what he was capable of, they'd be trembling at his very name. Oh, he'd be sure to make them pay for this humiliation. Rimmer's face darkened. He'd make them all pay.
He stifled a menacing giggle at the sea of panicked faces that stared back at him through the glass, barking muffled orders to one another. By the time he was finished with them, their pathetic Captain would despair at the devastation left in his wake; hardly recognise what was left of them, and oh god -
Wrenching himself back to reality with a gasp, the last of his conscious mind struggled to be heard over the mess of violent ranting that seemed hell-bent on overwhelming him. And in a sickening instant - a collaboration of prophecy and gut instinct - he realised what the virus was about to make him do.
Lister's head jerked up to see Rimmer frantically hammering on the glass with his fists. His entire being seemed to be shaking with the effort, eyes red-rimmed with desperation.
"Help!" he wailed in a voice strangled by the glass that separated them. "Lister, help me - !"
With the security guard somewhat distracted, Lister was free to race across to join him. His chest pounded, fuelled with the adrenaline that was torn between fight and flight.
"For smeg's sake stay calm, man," he asserted, although his own voice stumbled in fear. Lister gestured with a trembling thumb over his shoulder at the chaos behind him. "They're sortin' it all out for yer," he reassured, forcing his chirpy optimism to take the helm. "Technical hitch, that's all."
He shuddered at the blackness that had bled into Rimmer's now-flickering image. "Half a mo and you'll be back to normal. You'll see."
"Lister," he pleaded, "please, get me out - " In a single blink, his eyes dilated so full and dark, they looked horrifyingly reminiscent of a shark on the hunt. " - so that I can tear you limb from limb - " he snarled, his voice almost unrecognisable.
Lister scrabbled back in shock at the sudden violent turn before hazel eyes blinked back once more. Eyes lost and shaken as they stared back, wide.
Gone was the pride. Gone was the starched self-awareness that prevented such public displays of weakness. Stripped of such protective formalities, the underneath was left exposed. Pure, raw fear seeping through.
"I'm scared - " Rimmer sobbed. "Lister, I'm really scared."
Lister swallowed hard as his fingers curled back to form white-knuckled fists. He remembered all too well how dangerously unstable Rimmer had become when he'd been infected by Landstrom's holovirus all those years ago. And he certainly wasn't prepared to be in the close vicinity when this virus unleashed its violent, murderous streak in the hapless hologram before him.
Unable to tear away his gaze from the darkness that began to flicker uncontrollably in Rimmer's eyes, Lister backed away slowly, fumbling blindly for Nirvanah's arm.
"We have to go," he mumbled, feeling a sickening churn in his stomach.
Still pummelling urgently at the keyboard before her, Nirvanah shrugged off his grasp. With the crew snared by panicked awe, she'd begun desperately trying to override the seemingly irreversible process.
"No!" she cried. "Not without him!"
"Trust me," Lister insisted, grasping her by the shoulders and hauling her back bodily from the console. "This won't end well."
"But, sir - "
"Now, Kryten! Now!"
They ran, weaving through the smattering of hologrammatic statues that stared, motionless. All sense of panic and desperation in the room had dissipated. Now they were all transfixed by Rimmer's strangled cries as the virus ravaged his system, ensnared by an infectious sense of morbid fascination. Staring death in the face like a long-lost acquaintance.
Clinging desperately to consciousness and clawing for air he didn't need, Rimmer watched through the strange distortions of the glass as the trio scrabbled for their escape.
"Please don't leave - " he begged.
His chest whimpered a sad and fearful sense of detachment as they fumbled out of the door; an ache of negativity that proved to be the final weight the virus needed to tip the balance and end the struggle. And in the twitching blink of an eye, his mind seemed to give one last sharp spasm. The blackness crept into the edges of his vision sending everything bitterly cold and hazy.
The holograms watched as Rimmer sunk to his knees, shuddering uncontrollably as a lost hand streaked a downward path against the glass. In stark contrast to the panicked flailing and cries for help, he now fell still and motionless, the echoes of his desperate sobs now dying away into eerie silence. No-one dared speak, the air between them only sounding the eternal loop of crackling static from the monitors above.
Steeling himself, McCloud gingerly picked up the mic to the chamber's tannoy. "Mr Rimmer? Can you hear me?" he ventured.
Rimmer didn't seem to hear the question. He hadn't even flinched. McCloud exchanged a quick glance with the technician to his right who gave nothing but a loose shrug.
He'd almost raised the mic to his lips to repeat the question when Rimmer finally spoke. Gone were the once nasal notes of his old self. His voice was now corrupted with an edge of distorted feedback. Just like a simulant's.
"I hear you wanted a murderer," Rimmer stated darkly.
He slowly stood. Glancing up under wisps of hair to reveal eyes now black and dead, a smile crept along his pale face.
His attention shifted to the hand that still rested against the chamber that separated them. With barely a flicker of concentration, tiny splinters needled a network across the glass until they formed ugly great cracks.
And with a dismissive wave, it exploded. Shards of glass were cast out in a deadly blast that swept up the holograms as if they were mere leaves in the wind, hurling them back against the far wall.
As the shattered glass tumbling to the floor, silence descended once more. He stepped out of the destroyed chamber, boots crunching across the littered ground. With barely-contained glee, Rimmer surveyed the devastation around him. A lion regarding his cowering prey.
"I'll give you a murderer."
McCloud licked away dry lips. Seconds before he died - again - he resigned himself to the fact that at least his week couldn't get any worse.
I am the one who chose my path.
I am the one who couldn't last.
I feel the life torn from me.
I feel the anger changing me…
- Korn, Did My Time