Disclaimer: The Wizard Of Oz belongs to MGM. Red Dwarf belongs to Grant-Naylor. I own nothing, nothing!
Acknowledgements: In writing this, I referred greatly to The Wizard Of Oz script I found at The Daily Script, and also several Red Dwarf scripts from the Red Dwarf scripts archive.
"Oi! Give us it back!"
The Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector had in his hands an item of great personal worth to Lister – his last shami kebab that he'd managed to sneak out of the Crimson City.
"All in good time, when you give me that golden guitar!" the Simulant snickered.
"No smeggin' way!" Lister replied firmly. "Kristine told me not to."
"Alright then." The Simulant grinned evilly, and poised the kebab over his mouth, ready to take a bite. Lister nearly began to drool, so hungry did the sight make him.
"Alright, alright. You can have the smeggin' guitar!"
The Simulant lowered the kebab. "I knew you'd see reason."
Bending down, the Simulant tried to unstrap the guitar, but a burst of energy prevented him from doing so.
"Sorry, man, not my fault," Lister said. "Now, how 'bout that kebab…"
"No!" the Simulant growled. "Should've remembered – that guitar will never come off…as long as you're alive!"
As Lister reacted with more than a little shock, the Simulant enjoyed every moment. "But that's not what worries me, it's 'ow to do it. You've gotta do these fings right, or the technology's damaged."
Turning to a computer console, the Simulant tapped a few buttons. A monitor lit up with a countdown on it: twenty minutes.
"See this?" the Simulant asked rhetorically. "That's 'ow long you've got to be alive. It ain't long, is it? I can't wait forever to get that guitar!"
With that, the Simulant left the room, snickering evilly. Lister sighed deeply. As he chewed his kebab (the Simulant having left it in there with him), he wondered if Kryten, Rimmer and Duane would be able to get their smeg together enough to rescue him…
* * *
As it happened, Kryten, Rimmer and Duane were on a rocky outcropping right near the Simulant's hideout. As they surveyed the scene, they noticed patrols of armed Gelfs patrolling the entrance.
"Any ideas on how to get in there?" Rimmer asked.
"I think I may have one, sir," Kryten said, "but it's a little risky…"
* * *
Rimmer shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe we're doing this."
"I look great!" Duane exclaimed. He was dressed up as a Gelf, protruding belly and all.
"Now, sir, let me just modify your light bee…" Kryten plunged his hand into the now-intangible Rimmer, fiddled about for a moment, then removed his hand. Rimmer's image shimmered, and he took on the appearance of a very large and very hairy Gelf.
"Come on, then," Rimmer retorted, pushing Kryten along. The plan was to gain entry into the stronghold by pretending to be Gelfs, with Kryten as their prisoner. Once inside, all they had to do was find Lister and escape.
The trio moved down the rocky outcropping and along the path to the Simulant's hideout.
Just as they entered the gates, a Gelf stopped them and barked something in Gelf-language at them.
"Ack-hack-hak-ahk-ack-hakkk!" Rimmer grunted, hoping he sounded authentic enough, and that he wasn't doing something stupid like propositioning this disgusting creature.
The Gelf thought for a moment, made a noise that could have been either laughing or burping, and let the three pass.
"Whew! That was close!" Duane said. The Gelf behind him turned around and barked something else.
"Uh…ak-hack-kak-ka-hak-hak!" Duane replied. That seemed to satisfy the Gelf, and he left them alone.
* * *
Meanwhile, time was rapidly running out for Lister…
* * *
Thankfully, Rimmer, Kryten and Duane had reached his prison.
"Lister! Are you in there?" Rimmer asked.
"Yeah, I'm here! Quick, before the timer runs out!" Lister replied.
Without stopping to ask what all that nonsense about a timer was about, the trio began to plan how to get in the room without any bazookoids.
"We need a battering ram," Rimmer decided. "Something about six foot long, with a hard head…"
The only thing they could see that fit that description was Kryten, so Rimmer and Duane picked him up, backed down the stairs, then charged forward.
Kryten's head struck the door hard, blowing it wide open. As the mechanoid staggered around, Lister was immediately at his side.
"You okay, man?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Susan," was the reply.
As the posse, reunited at last, prepared to make their escape, the Simulant reappeared.
"Goin' so soon?" he hissed. "I wouldn't 'ear of it!"
A horde of Gelf guards charged into the room, aiming their pointy sticks at the trapped posse.
"Don't 'urt them right away," the Simulant was saying. "We'll let 'em fink about it a bit first!"
The Simulant advanced menacingly on Lister. "Can you imagine wot I'm gunna do wiv you, 'uman?"
"Yeh," Lister replied. "You're gonna roast me an' eat me with a bit o' mint sauce."
The Simulant looked disappointed – obviously, Lister had got it right.
Kryten, meanwhile, had noticed a derelict shuttlecraft suspended inexplicably at the top of the room. His mechanical eyes followed the cable down to a bracket right next to him.
"You're not roasting anyone today!" Kryten declared, using his bionic strength to rip apart the cord. The derelict shuttle crashed down on top of the Gelf army, pinning them helplessly.
"Come on, sirs." Kryten grabbed Lister's arm. "Time to go!"
As the posse escaped, the Simulant fumed with rage. "Get 'em! They're gettin' away! Get 'em! Get 'em!!"
The quartet raced down the long flight of stairs, and came to a large hall. As they tried to escape out the left-hand door, an army of Gelf guards blocked their path. Turning around, they found another throng of Gelf guards blocking off that option, too.
"Well, well, well…" the Simulant hissed. "Four li'l rats all in a trap. The last to go will see the first three go before 'im!"
The Sinister Simulant picked up a bulky-looking pistol from a bracket on the wall.
"'Ow about a li'l electromagnetism, 'ologram?"
"You can't scare me. I'm a coward – I'm always scared!" Rimmer pointed out, not without a bit of nervousness to his voice.
The Simulant fired the pistol, and Rimmer's hologrammatic body automatically caught fire.
"I'm…burning?" Rimmer couldn't believe it at first, but his opinion quickly changed. "I'm burning! I'm burning!!!"
Thinking quickly, Lister grabbed a handy computer control device that just happened to be standing nearby and shot it at Rimmer. The energy put out the hologrammatic fire burning Rimmer, but some of it also splashed on the Simulant.
"Gaaahhh!" the Simulant roared. "You rotten 'uman! What've you done to me?!"
"What have I done to 'im?" Lister himself wondered.
"I think that device was designed not only to put out hologrammatic fires, sir," Kryten hypothesised, "but it was also a nega-drive – a huge store of negative emotional energy. You must've fired that emotional energy at the Simulant!"
"It's so hopeless…" the Simulant was grumbling. "I'm so ugly…I never get invited to parties!"
"Uh oh, he's gonna blow!" Lister realised, and quickly ducked behind the nearest pillar.
"I HATE EVERYFING!!!" the Simulant bawled, firing his gun in the air wildly. The Simulant's eyeballs bulged out of their sockets, then, precisely half a second later, his entire head exploded.
What was left of the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector's head fell to the ground with what seemed like a resounding clunk. The Gelf army all crowded around, as if to make sure he was really dead.
"Hak-ak-gak-kak-ack-kack-hack-kak," one of the Gelfs grunted. "Gak-k-ahk-hak-hack-kk."
"Just let me translate that, sir," Kryten offered. "He says, 'He's dead. You've killed him.'"
"Sorry, man, it was an accident," Lister apologised. He wasn't really that sorry, but he was going to say anything to avoid being skewered by Gelf spears.
"Gak-gack-ack-hhk-kka-hack-ack-kak-hak-hack-ack-kak-hak," the Gelf leader coughed and spluttered again.
"He says, 'All hail the podgy one! The Sinister Simulant is dead!'" Kryten translated.
"Gak-gack-ack-kka-hack-ack-kak-hak-hack-ack-kak-hak! Gak-gack-ack-kka-hack-ack-kak-hak-hack-ack-kak-hak! Gak-gack-ack-kka-hack-ack-kak-hak-hack-ack-kak-hak!!" the Gelf army chanted.
"Hey, ask 'im if we can keep the space-bike," Lister said.
"Gak-ka-kkk-hhk-akk-kak-hack-ack-kack-ahk," Kryten told the Gelf leader, who responded with a simple, "Ga-kack-kk."
"He says, 'Yes, go for your life', sir," Kryten interpreted.
"Brutal," was all Lister had to say about it.
* * *
The Wizard of Hol's chamber…
"Do my eyes deceive me? All of you are still alive? And with the Sinister Simulant of the Other Space Sector's space-bike?"
Lister nodded. "Yeh. We blew 'im up."
"Very resourceful," the Wizard admitted.
After what he thought was a suitable pause, Lister spoke up again. "So…how 'bout those promises you made?"
"Not so fast!" Hol thundered. "I'll have to give the matter a little thought. Go away and come back tomorrow!"
"WHAT?!" all four of the posse cried.
"Look here, me-laddo," Rimmer said firmly in an uncharacteristic display of bravery. "I think you've had quite long enough to think about it."
"We've done what you asked, Mister Hol, sir," Kryten said, with more than a little irritation.
"SILENCE!!" the face on the screen roared. "Do not arouse the wrath of the Great and Powerful Hol! I said, come back tomorrow!"
Duane decided that now might be a good time to use the bathroom. He noticed a curtained-off area nearby, and thought that must be the bog. As he pulled back the curtain, he had one of his typical falls, and ripped the curtain down. In doing so, he revealed the occupant of that curtained-off room. It was a small monitor attached to a wheeled trolley. The face on the computer screen was much different to the one on the large monitor. It, too, was bald, but it was Caucasian rather than black, and had less intelligence in the eyes. One would almost call the face 'weirded-out'.
"Do you presume to criticise the Great and Powerful Hol, you ungrateful creatures?!" the larger Hol face was saying. "Think yourselves lucky that I'm giving you an audience tomorrow instead of in three million years' time!"
It was then that Lister, Kryten and Rimmer noticed the 'other' Hol. They couldn't believe their eyes. Somehow, their gazes caused the smaller monitor to turn around, glance at them, and jump with fright, as much as he could on the screen.
"Oh! The…the Great Hol has spoken!"
"Who the smeg are you?" Lister wanted to know.
The computer replied. "Pay no attention to the computer behind the curtain. The Great Hol has spoken!!"
"Who the smeg are you?!" Lister repeated.
"I'm the Great and Powerful Wizard of Hol," the computer replied in a Northern accent.
"No way!" Lister couldn't believe it.
"It's true. I'm the Wizard of Hol."
"You complete and total smeghead!" Rimmer yelled.
"You're right. I'm a smeghead," Hol replied.
"You've been unbelievably…naughty!" Kryten told him with a lot of fire in his voice.
"Well, in computer jargon, my plans've all gone tits-up," Hol admitted.
"You'd better be powerful enough to send Mister Lister home!" Kryten said.
"Yeah!" Duane interjected. "And what about the decency you promised Rimmer?"
"Or helping Kryten to break his programming?" Rimmer added.
"Or Duane's cool?" Lister finished.
"The truth is," Hol said, "you've already got all those things."
"Eh?" everyone said.
"Well, Kryten," Hol began, "you think you haven't been able to break your programming?"
"That's correct, sir," Kryten confirmed.
"Well, think about it. Would a mechanoid who wasn't able to break his programming think outside the square, as you did to rescue Lister? And just then, you showed anger at what you thought was my betrayal of you. That, my odd-shaped friend, is breaking your programming. To prove it, call Rimmer a smeghead."
Kryten turned to Rimmer, not expecting anything revolutionary.
"Sir, you are a smeee…a smeghead." Kryten's face lit up like a light bulb. "Hah! I did it!!"
"Well done, Kryten. Now, Rimmer," Hol began, "you may think of yourself as a weaselly sort of guy. A sad, pathetic, joke of a man. A man who can't outwit a used teabag. A…"
"Yes, alright, get on with it!" Rimmer snapped.
"Righto," Hol agreed. "If you were really such a self-centred weasel, you wouldn't have hooked up with Lister in the first place. And you certainly wouldn't have gone with the others to rescue him."
A small hypodermic appeared from a slot in the wall.
"I caught the polymorph that attacked you, Rimmer, and extracted your DNA strands from it. Here you go."
The needle plunged itself into Rimmer's arm, and the liquid inside slowly drained. Rimmer's hologrammatic form sputtered, and reformed into a more muscular version of himself, with a more confident face and longer, more heroic hair.
"Hey there," the new Rimmer said heroically. "The name's Rimmer. Ace Rimmer."
"What a guy…" Lister commented.
"Now, Duane," Hol said, "you are under the impression that you are not cool. My friend, 'cool' is a very subjective term. What's cool to one person may not be cool to another. What you have to figure out is what's cool for you."
"Cool for me is what I used to be!" Duane cried.
A second hypodermic extended from the wall. "Well, you're in luck, then. I managed to get your DNA strands out of the polymorph, too. Here you go."
One injection later, and Duane's geeky buck teeth disappeared, and his bowl haircut lengthened into a chic ponytail.
"Aaaaaowww!" the ex-Duke of Dork wailed. "I am gonna have to get out of these clothes, or I'll have to resign my position as the most handsome dude in this room!" He ran out of the room, wailing happily all the way.
Lister grinned, but the grin faded quickly. "I don't think there's a hypodermic needle there that could take me home."
Hol nodded. "Damn right. The only way to get you back home is for me to take you there myself. That is, I would, if I had a ship. Sorry, Dave."
"Smeg," Lister said, disappointedly.
"You could stay here with us, Mister Lister, sir," Kryten suggested.
"I think that may be a moot point, Kryters, old chum," Ace said heroically. "Here comes someone who could help."
He was right. Kristine appeared in a burst of light, smiling beatifically.
"Okay, then. D'you reckon you can help me?" Lister asked.
"You don't need any more help," Kristine told him. "You've always had the power to go home."
"Then why didn't you tell him before?" Kryten inquired.
Kristine shrugged. "He wouldn't have believed me. He had to learn for himself."
"So, what've you learned, Davey-boy?" Ace asked heroically.
"Not much, really," Lister admitted. "Just that you don't often piss off a simulant and live to tell the tale."
Kristine shrugged again. "It'll do. Now, that golden guitar will take you home in two seconds."
"Brutal," Lister said. "I'll see you guys later, eh?"
"Bye, Davey-boy." Ace waved heroically.
"Goodbye, Mister Lister, sir," Kryten said.
"Bye, buddy!" The cool guy formerly known as Duane Dibbley waved from his very stylish new suit.
"So…what've I got to do to get home?" Lister asked.
"Just strum the strings three times, and say, 'There's no place like home'," Kristine told him.
"Okay."
Lister put his fingers to the guitar and strummed tunelessly three times. "There's no place like home..."
* * *
"There's no place like home…"
"Please, Mister Lister, sir, wake up!"
Lister came to, but he wasn't in the Land of Hol any more. He was on Starbug again, in the medi-bay.
"What happened?" he wanted to know.
"Your escape pod crashed after you blew the simulant ship out of space," Kochanski replied. "You've been in a coma for hours!"
Lister sat up, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. "Smeg…I dreamed I was in this other land, y'know…and all of you were there…and Rimmer too!"
"Oh, we dream lots of silly things when we've got concussions, sir!" Kryten reassured him.
"Felt so real, though. Almost like an AR program," Lister said.
"Ah well. All that matters is, you're back now, sir. Welcome back to reality."
THE END.