Kryten softly hummed as he finished adjusting the device on the table. The device in question was the most unremarkable-looking cylinder device in the history of cylinder devices. Its unremarkableness was punctuated by the fact that it only became more remarkable once several stethoscope-like wires were attached to it, which themselves were unremarkable in nature.

Recently, the Boys From the Dwarf had been on yet another raid run on a derelict. This one was known as the SS Hope, ironic seeing as everyone there had died from an attempt to give the populace hope through injections gone wrong, leading to mass suicides. Despite this, however, it was a trip for the book "Most Boring Derelict Runs in History". Well, until that giant mutated cockroach appeared in one of the corridors and picked up Mr. Rimmer (or Captain Bollocks, as he liked to record him in his internal file directory) up and started to play a single-player game of "Who can rip up a Hologram the quickest" with him. Despite the Cat's protests, Kryten, and Lister had managed to shoot it down in a flurry of Bazookoid fires, and the trip had otherwise been uneventful. Well, aside from Rimmer's complaining that no matter how much he adjusted his holographic projection, he was not going to get this cockroach gunk off of him. Then again, that was Rimmer for you.

In the end, they didn't find too much stuff of interest, although they were able to find more clothes for the Cat (for the best, considering how much complaining the Cat was doing on how he was on the verge of having worn all of the outfits in his cupboard at least once, and that he would rather die than wear another one of his outfits again) and some more music. Just before they left, however, Kryten had found a device on the ground, no doubt dropped in a hurry as the person previously carrying it prepared to throw himself out of the airlock.

He was just about to make the finishing touches when his favorite human in the world, Dave Lister, ambled in, still rubbing his eyes from his 2 pm awakening.

"What are you tinkering with, Krytes." He asked, pausing to stare at the machinery that Kryten was fixing.

"Ah, Mr. Lister, sir. I have been fixing a device from our last raid run that may prove to be quite useful for us as a crew."

Lister's left eyebrow raised up in curiosity. "Is it a device that can finally get us back to Earth?"

"Unfortunately, no. What it is however is a DNA Ancestry Machine, sir. During the 24th Century, people were nervous about giving their DNA to large companies, what with the number of clones and genetic abominations created using it. However, there was still a desire to ensure that they weren't passing down genetic diseases to their children, as well as a desire to prove that they could take claim to outrageous fortunes. Thus, this device entered the market."

Lister was ecstatic.

"Wicked, man! So do you think we can use it to see if there are any humans still alive? You know, by checking the DNA of one of the former crew."

Kryten sighed. He didn't want to lower his favorite human's hopes, but it had to be done.

"Unfortunately, no. Thanks to the device, a large flock of people found that they did not have French or German in their genes as they had been bragging about, and stormed the company building in a fit of rage, assisted by those cut out of the will after they found out that they actually came from their mother's lowlife one-night-stand and thus couldn't take claim to any money. As such, the device was on the market for only several weeks before the company which created it went bankrupt. Despite its shuttering, however, the data still survives on those devices which were not recalled, stored on data chips that can store more information on them than the Encyclopedia Galactica."

"So, this device is practically useless, then?"

"Not necessarily Mr. Lister. We could use it to find out the Cat's ancestry, or…"

It was at this moment that Rimmer entered the science room, having been distracted from his usual "rimmering" routine of making sure that the corridors were clear from dirt.

"Lister, I found one of your socks in corridor 251 which I suspect may…"

He paused.

"What are you two idiots doing with that device?"

Kryten rolled his robotic eyes.

"Well, as I was saying to Mr. Lister, I have repaired a device which essentially allows you to find out your ances…"

Rimmer's eyes widened, like a cat about to pounce on its prey.

"This machine…it doesn't require needles, doesn't it."

"No, it's all done in a safe and non-intrusive mann…."

"Can I have a go with it?" said Rimmer, although he was already taking the machine off of Kryten's hands without expecting an answer. He proceeded to promptly put the patches on himself before pressing the quite conspicuous start button.

…Nothing happened.

Rimmer's nostrils flared up.

"Kryten, you imbecile! It's a worthless piece of…"

"No sirs, you just forgot to plug it in."

Rimmer's nostrils flared even further as he connected the device to the nearby wall socket.

"Ah, yes, I see…I just wanted to keep you on your toes there…".

Kryten and Lister didn't buy it.

Happily enough, the machine booted itself up, which Kryten was thankful for. After all, the last time they had acquired a device from a derelict, the crew had to spend several days trying to flush out viruses from Rimmer's hologrammatic files.

The screen overflowed with streams of data for a couple of seconds, which soon fell away to reveal a loading bar that started to slowly crawl up to 100%.

As it hit 50%, there was a yowling sound from the corridor as the Cat came in, half-distracted by his recently manicured nails.

"What are you looking at, buds? Is it another Space Weevil infestation?"

"None of the sort, Mr. Cat. We're just finding out who Rimmer is descended from."

The Cat's face contorted in disgust.

"Why do we need to know about Goalpost Head's family tree? Everyone knows that it is more rotten than his choice of clothing!"

Rimmer scowled.

"Well, if you want to know, you stupid moggy - after I found out that I was the bastard child of a half-crazed woman and a gardener with lumps for brains, it got me thinking – my ancestry isn't what I expected, so maybe I have royal blood in me. Maybe I'm even the long-lost descendant of Napoleon!"

As Rimmer talked, the loading bar quickly sped up to 99%. There, it hung for a tense moment, before it finally completed and the database showed up, displaying all of Rimmer's ancestors.

Rimmer quickly pulled off the patches still attached to him, grabbed a seat, and started looking over at the data. Realizing that everyone was still there, he turned to get rid of them.

"Can everyone smeg off and leave me to my business? I would prefer it if I didn't have a running commentary on how my family was actually fish people."

Everyone decided to listen to him and leave, although not before Lister briefly caught a glimpse of the name of one of Rimmer's ancestors.

"Hey, I didn't know that you were related to one of the most infamous space…"

"LISTER!"

Sometime later, Lister took another bite of his curry as he went through one of his complicated robotics course textbooks. Why he made himself go through mounds and mounds of complicated diagrams and words that he never expected to see in common communication, he did not know. Well, he did know. He (well, his father but they were one of the same, after all) had made him do it in a bid to improve himself, to the point of even flushing his guitar out of the airlock.

He was certainly a persistent man, Lister could say with clarity.

Suddenly, he was disturbed by a blue blur coming into the room. As it paused, Lister could see that it was Rimmer, his face taking on an uncharacteristically happy appearance.

"Good afternoon, smeg-for-brains. Slobbing around as usual I see." He chirped in glee.

Lister sighed as he closed his (slightly greasy) textbook. "And what's gotten into you that has caused your face to do the unthinkable. Found out that your great-great-great-grandfather is Hitler?"

"Shut up, Lister! Unfortunately, I am not a descendant of Napoleon. However, I did find something of similar interest." replied Rimmer, slamming down a large slab of paper on top of Lister's textbook. Lister just stared at it dumbly.

"Rimmer, it's a slab of paper. What are you expecting me to look at, best pages to use as a paperweight?"

"No, Lister. Look closer." Said Rimmer, pointing a finger at one of the names on the document.

Lister stared at it.

"Gordon Brittas"? He sounds like a nutter from Scandinavia…"

"No, he isn't, you baboon with a distinct lack of hygiene. Look closer."

Rimmer pointed towards the other details of the man that the device held. There wasn't too much else about the man, but Lister could see that he was apparently of British origin, that he was from the 20th Century, and his apparent last occupation was "Commissioner of Sports for the Solar System". Most notably, however, he was designated as a member of the "House of Lords".

"See. One of my ancestors used to be a member of the House of Lords. It means that he was such an important person that the Government wanted him to become part of them. That must be where my ability to strategize comes from, my intellect, my excellence compared to the halfwits on board this ship."

"Rimmer…"

"Oooh, wait until I tell the Cat about this!"

And with that, he ran out, taking his findings with him.

Lister sighed and took himself off from his comfortable place on the sofa, hoping that this wasn't true and that Kryten would know the truth. After all, he was not looking forward to Rimmer lording over his new findings to him.

Soon, he had come across Kryten doing what he enjoyed most – mopping one of the corridors.

"Is it true Krytes, that Rimmer has found that one of his ancestors is a Lord?"

The Mechanoid sighed.

"Oh, Mr. Lister sir. It's true - he has noble genes in his bloodline."

Lister groaned in despair.

"In fact, he dashed off before I could tell him more about this ancestor, and believe me, his story is the sort of thing that will haunt your nightmares for days to come."

Lister scoffed.

"He can't be that bad unless he's a crazed sheep strangler who spends his free time criticizing TV shows."

"No, he never stooped that low in that regard. However, I do remember him and his exploits are the sort of tales that are the work of crazed simulants."

"The story goes that he used to be a human from the 20th Century who used to run a Leisure Centre. However, he was once crushed to death by a falling water tank. By all accounts, that should have been the natural end of his lifespan. However, he mysteriously revived several days after his funeral. Some more sane droids say that it was a clerical error, whilst the loopier of people say that it was because not even the afterlife could handle him. In whatever case, he was revived and rebuilt using the latest in robotics, which is credited for his long lifespan afterward. In fact, he is widely credited as kickstarting the revolution of robotics which occurred during the 21st Century. Simply put, if it weren't for him, I wouldn't be able to clean your pants as efficiently. However, he also proceeded to build up a reputation of mayhem during his career. Usually, when he ran something, it would end in fires and explosions. In fact, he is usually credited as being at fault for the destruction of Pluto in the late 23rd Century."

Lister's eyes widened. The destruction of an entire planetary body? The man certainly sounded like he could beat Rimmer in a competition for "how much destruction can you make from your incompetence".

"Go on then."

"By the early 24th Century, he had become a major problem, and the Governments of the Solar System didn't know what to do with him. Luckily for them, this was around the time that an attempt was being made at ejecting their failed Genetic Experiments out into Deep Space. They simply managed to convince the man that he could bring his "Dream" out to any potential alien life-forms in space and just shoved him into one of the garbage ships. He has not been seen since, his existence destined to become a mere tale told around distant campfires in places where those who had caught the space crazies go to drink their alcohol."

For a moment, Lister was silent as he processed the information. Then…

"You know, I think I'm going to tell this to him. Oh, I can already picture the look on his face when I tell him about how much of a madman his ancestor was!"

Kryten turned on his panic circuits.

"I would advise against it. Mr. Rimmer's self-esteem has been at an all-time low in recent weeks. I would even say that it's currently lower than David Zucker's reputation after making "An American Carol". We should leave it for now."

Lister sighed.

"All right then, but if he's too much of a smeghead over it, I'm going to have to reveal the truth anyway. Plus, it's not like the very next moon we'll come across holds the man himself?"

..right?