I am so so so so so so sorry for the delay! And for the shortness of this chapter.
Important note: I think you're going to have to read the last chapter again for this to make any sense whatsoever. Again, I am so sorry! There's no excuse for a lazy writer.
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Operation 'twiddle the controls, and kick their smarmy arses' wasn't going so well.
Cat huffed, "Kryten?"
"Yes sir?"
"We're all still stuck in the goo."
Kryten nodded, looking at his feet, "I know sir."
"We need to get out of here bud!"
"I know sir; I hate to think of what those terrible monsters are doing to poor Mr Lister."
"Yeah… and I really need to change!"
"Sir, do you only think of yourself?"
"No, I'm thinking of my beautiful ass."
Another Cat clone piped up, "How are we gonna get out meat tenderiser head?"
"I don't know sir."
Cat moaned, "But, I've just noticed it clashes with my eyebrows!"
"Just noticed sir?" another Kryten said with a frown.
Cat wobbled, somewhat sadly, "I'm so ashamed… I should have noticed it earlier!"
"Damn right you should have bud," said a Cat clone, "or you should have at least come prepared with cute accessories, dyes and/or an entire new clothing range complete with suits for everyday usage!"
"The pressure must be going to my head! How could I not notice that the goo ceased to complement the curvature and tint of my eyebrows!"
"It's quite hard to see your own eyebrows you know," said another Cat clone, kindly, "let alone colour co-ordinate them with the surrounding environment."
Cat frowned at him and yelled, "I told you they weren't like me! I always colour co-ordinate everything!"
"Sirs, please be quiet!"
"Yes," agreed a fellow Kryten, "arguing with one another is not going to solve anything."
"Well forgive me for saying this Krytens," said another, "but arguing does sometimes solve problems. Arguments, as we all know, lead to agreements. I mean, what would the parliamentary government-"
"Be quiet, please sirs! Discontinue flapping your mouths," The real Kryten said, flapping his arms in emphasis, "faster than the ear flaps of a skiing Frenchman on his second honeymoon in the Alps!"
"Sorry bud."
"What we need to do sirs, is find out a way of getting rid of this goo,"
Blank faces stared back at him.
He looked down. "Oh." The goo had gone.
"One of those things ate it." Cat explained, a disgusted look etched into his features as he pointed towards the clones of himself, "he said he thought it was trifle."
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"Oh smeg, we're gonna die." Lister whispered.
Rimmer moved his head slightly, noticing the hunched form of his bunkmate beside him for the first time. He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Lister's hand. He took comfort in the warm hold, which was strange; he didn't think that when he found Lister his hand would be very comforting. Rather, he thought it would be curved into a fist and punched squarely on his hologramic forehead repeatedly.
Rimmer's body refused to move any further, but he tried to speak anyway. Strangely, his brain couldn't find any words to say. No witty responses, or cowardly snivelling.
This was it. Finally.
They were going to peg it.
His bright frightened eyes found Lister's in the darkness.
All of the burning hatred and confusion that had ignited within those brown orbs the last time Rimmer had seen them was gone. The only thing left in Lister's eyes was a calm understanding. He understood. Rimmer felt his heavy guilt-ridden heart lighten at the sight. Lister didn't blame him.
And all of a sudden he felt the younger man's heavy arms encircling his torso. He stiffened at first, but then gently leaned into the embrace with a sob, his body finally giving into the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
He hugged back.
Lister winced at the pressure Rimmer was putting on his already beaten chest, but endured it, knowing that within the next few minutes they'd both be dead anyway.
"It was an accident. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He heard Rimmer whisper into his ripped, blood spattered shirt.
An accident? Lister's confuddled brain tried to make sense of it all, but, to no one's surprise, failed. Everything hurt. There was no way that he was going to get out of here alive, and he wasn't going to waste the short few seconds left of his life pondering on such an insignificant question.
Lister breathed out slowly, his head resting on Rimmer's shoulder, and his exhausted eyes beginning to close. He snapped the heavy lids back open sharply. If they were going to die, they would do it together. He couldn't leave Rimmer to face it alone.
"I'm sorry too." Lister said, voice wavering though he tried his hardest to keep it steady. A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, dripping onto Rimmer's uniformed back like a lone raindrop.
Rimmer smiled sadly. So this was it.
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The monsters watched this heartfelt exchange between the two friends with a box of Kleenex tissues they had stolen from underneath Rimmer's pillow. Friendship made their eyes water. They didn't like water; it reminded them of the big lakes on their planet that were taken over by killer marshmallows. There goes, another reason to kill the beings in front of them.
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