Disclaimer: I still don't own Red Dwarf or any of its characters.
Chapter Six
Rimmer wanted to move but his feet refused to leave the spot where they stood. The shock of being taken completely unawares was driving him mad. He had defeated empires! Fought against master killers! How could he have let his guard down like that? He tried to move again; still no cooperation. Thus the strategic retreat option was out, as was the idea of charging the guy. His mind tried to develop some sort of feasible plan, but kept coming up empty handed. For the moment, he was helpless.
He hoped it didn't show.
"Didn't you hear me?" his 'other self' asked. "I said leave! Vacate the premises, head for the hills. Just go away!"
"Look, I don't want any trouble--"
"Well you've got some, haven't you?" the counterpart replied, trying to sound tough.
Rimmer's senses returned, and he got ready to jump and force the guy's head into places it wasn't meant to go. He looked up at 'himself' again, getting the 'before pummeling' picture in his mind so he could remember it when the 'after' picture was in front of him--and froze. He couldn't help but notice his counterpart's hair. It was like his own was, only the 'other him' had managed to wear it more casual. How did he do that? It still looked neat, short and proper, but somehow it didn't look like it were clumped together like the bristles of a cheap shaving cream brush, as his own sometimes appeared to be. Fascinating.
The counterpart realized he was being stared at. "Look, do you think you could somehow managed to pry your eyes off of me and go away?"
"Sorry," answered Rimmer, slipping into his normal voice. He sounded absent. "I was just noticing that you part your hair on the opposite side of mine."
"That's fascinating." The gun was raised higher. "Now leave."
Rimmer couldn't move; he was still in awe. This must have been how Ace felt when he first saw *me*, he realized. He remembered the confusion surrounding his own first encounter with Ace. He couldn't hurt this guy! He was just as blameless as Rimmer himself had been when he found himself in the same circumstances.
Still, Rimmer had to admit, he hadn't tried to shoot Ace when he had met him. He had wished that a slow and painful death would meet Ace, true, but he didn't try to kill him. Rimmer looked at the shot gun again.
"There really is no need for this. I'm only here to--"
"I don't care, all right? I just want you to leave! How hard is that for you to understand?!" The gun was raised even higher; his hands were trembling so much that Rimmer was sure he was going to drop it. "Now your time is up, m'laddo. What's it going to be?"
A loud KCH-KCH! rang out, and the other Rimmer looked up. He couldn't believe his eyes. Somehow the stranger's ship had turned, moved closer, and was now aiming its guns at...him. His legs turned to jelly and he began to wonder where he kept his spare pants.
Rimmer noticed the color drain out of his counterpart's face, and turned to see what he was staring at. He rolled his eyes.
"Diane, there is no need to show off. I had everything under control."
"Ohh, I know!" she whined through the communicator in his collar. "I just wanted to be part of the action for once."
"Just put the guns back."
"...fine." The guns slowly retracted and the ship settled.
"Thank you." He turned back to face his other self, who was still staring at the ship. More importantly, though, he had absently allowed the gun to rest. Rimmer shrugged and simply walked forward, grabbing the gun in one swift movement. His counterpart put up no resistance; in fact, he seemed glad to be rid of the thing. He stared at Rimmer with disbelief, unable to calm down no matter how hard he tried. Rimmer guessed it was more shock than anything else, and he could certainly relate.
"Arnie, relax," Rimmer said gently as he helped him sit down. "I know everything's a bit weird right now, but believe me, you have nothing to worry about."
"It's A.J., actually," the counterpart replied in a shaky voice. "I've always preferred it if people called me A.J." He looked uneasily at Rimmer. "That's ok, isn't it?"
Rimmer couldn't help but laugh. A.J.'s face clouded with anger. "Well I'm glad you find that so amusing." Rimmer laughed even harder. A.J. shook his head.
"No no, it's not your name," Rimmer said at last, "it's just that you remind me so much of myself the first time *I* met Ace! It's just incredible."
"Ace? I haven't met anyone named Ace."
Rimmer reached over and roughly shook A.J.'s hand. "Well you have now, old sport. The name's Ace Rimmer, and it's a pleasure to meet you, A.J."
"Ace Rimmer?" A.J. echoed. "You mean, you're related to me somehow?"
"No, not just that. I am you. Another version of you. I'm from a different dimension." He pointed to his ship. "My ship over there, the Wildfire, has a drive on it that can break the speed of reality."
A.J. had started to stand up, but hearing "different dimension" made him sit down again. "A different dimension," he repeated.
Rimmer nodded. "I can jump to any other dimension. It locks onto my counterpart there--in this case, you--and I come face to face with, well...me."
"Incredible," A.J. said as he looked at the Wildfire. For a day that had started out rather dull, things were certainly getting a lot more interesting. "I don't understand, though. How can you be me--but not me?"
"Well, at some point in our past--"
"We share the same past as well?"
"Well yes, to an extent. I assume you had three older brothers named Frank, Howard, and John, for instance." A.J. nodded, still not believing his ears. Rimmer continued, "Most everything about our lives is the same--up until a certain point, that is, when some decision was made. You went one way, and I went another, and from that point on, our lives went in different directions, resulting in different dimensions. Every other Rimmer in every other dimension is similarly effected."
"Incredible," A.J. said again. "How many dimensions are there?"
"With an infinite amount of decisions to make, the number is probably astounding. Personally, I try not to think about it. It makes my head hurt."
"That makes two of us."
Rimmer helped him to his feet and gave him his gun back. A.J. smiled weakly.
"Sorry about that before. I just like my privacy."
"I was going to ask you about that. Why are you living in such a desolate place?"
A.J. opened the door to his cabin. "Erm, why don't you come inside first. It's a rather long and uninteresting story, so get comfortable."
The ensign approached Gambran with as much courage as he could muster. He was never sure how his leader would take news, either good or bad. Since he wasn't sure exactly what sort of quality went with the news he was about to tell, he was especially worried.
He stepped in front of him and gave a stiff salute. "Sir, the report on the enemy has just come in."
"Yes? And does it give us any idea at all as to why we can't get any life readings from a living man?"
"That's just it sir, he isn't alive."
Gambran bolted to his feet. "What? Of course he is. I fought him myself! He is most certainly alive."
"No sir, he isn't. According to the report, he's...a hologram."
"A what?!"
"A hologram, sir. A computer generated image of his former self."
"I know what a hologram is, ensign" he snapped, and began to walk around his chair. "Sneaky devil. Killing himself so that we can't, then sending his hologram in instead. I must admit, we may be dealing with a much more cunning opponent than we originally thought." He whirled around and faced the ensign.
"One thing puzzles me, though. I was led to believe that holograms are simply projections of light. If that's so, then how is it that I was able to fight him? I most certainly felt--" he stopped himself from saying 'those punches he threw at me', and opted instead for "a head when I kicked it."
"This confused us as well, sir, but we have come up with a theory." Gambran nodded for him to continue. The ensign cleared his throat. "We postulate, sir, that he is somehow able to generate a field of matter with his image--a hard-light drive, if you will--therefore giving him a body, in essence."
"How does he control it?"
"Well, if he's anything like the holograms that we know of, probably by some device that produces the image."
"Interesting," he hissed, tapping the tips of his fingers against his chin. "Trying to kill an opponent who is already dead. This shall prove to be most fascinating." He jumped back into his chair. "Do we have any way of tracking him?"
"Yes sir. We have discovered a frequency that reveals his projection device." The ensign leaned in closer, embracing his moment of triumph. "He's on the planet below us, along with some living person. If we attack in cloak, he'll never know what hit him."
Gambran laughed and clapped the ensign on the back. "Excellent, excellent! Remind me to promote you." The ensign beamed with satisfaction and returned to his post. Gambran looked to the communications officer.
"Any word from Timlar high command yet?"
"No sir. No reply on any frequency."
"Then we'll just have to go after him on our own. It's what the high command would have instructed us to do, anyway." He sat up straight. "Helm, take us down."
"Aye, sir."
Gambran felt a rush of adrenaline as he watched the planet come into view. He could smell victory in the air. It was all just a matter of time.