Chapter 2 - The Sleepers
Flacco led them down and down until they came to a cavern-like room with three beds arrayed along the back wall surrounded by monitors showing the life-signs of the occupants.
"Gentlemen; meet Paul, Tim and Richard," he said, indicating the beds. The four travellers crept warily forward, unsure quite what they were expecting to see.
But there were no monsters; the three silent figures looked like perfectly normal human beings.
The man identified as Paul was shorter than the other two, the bump of his feet a good foot from the end of the bed. His head was nearly completely shaved but for a spike of fringe that curled back on itself apparently against the laws of physics.
Richard appeared to be much younger, his sleeping face bearing an almost angelic quality, his gentle breathing coming as a quiet whistle through a gap in his teeth. An acoustic guitar with a strap of silver studs on black leather stood on a stand next to his bed.
Between them lay a man who could probably be described as objectively attractive; he was tall and slender with a perfect, blemishless complexion, his lank, black hair left rakishly covering one eye.
All three of them wore the same outfit; a kind of grey overalls over a white t-shirt covered by sheet and blanket, their hands folded peacefully on their stomachs. They were dotted over in sensor leads attached to the monitors, an IV line in the back of each hand. None of them looked like a ruthless killer.
"Are you really telling us…?" Lister exclaimed before Flacco hurriedly shushed him. He tried again in a whisper, "are you really telling us that one of these men is a mass murderer?!"
"It wasn't Tim's fault, it was them and their ghastly experiments; they created Bob to do their dirty work for them and discarded him. They never could have got that genie back in the bottle. This is why I have cared for him for so long; so that in his dreams Tim gets to be Tim again. Bob can be someone else."
The Cat did a double take at the marble still figure, "this beautiful creature; the killer? Why he's nearly as good-looking as me, and that's never something I say lightly."
Rimmer rolled his eyes.
Lister was examining the equipment. "You know, this reminds me of the Better Than Life set up, how do you stop them wasting away?"
"Post hypnotic suggestion; it's the riskiest part of my day but I bring them out just enough to get them to have something to eat and an hour's exercise before putting them completely under again. It's only really half a life I know, but it's the best I can do.
I can show you one of their past adventures if you like. I record them partly for posterity, but mostly for my own amusement."
He turned to a bank of computers and punched up a file to the big screen in the middle, static buzzed across it a minute before two recognizable forms materialised, Richard and Tim appeared to be having dinner at a large table set up in the living room.
"There's no sound I'm afraid," apologized Flacco, as they watched Paul join them, spraying some kind of gas over them from a pack on his back before breaking into a heated argument.
Flacco attempted to provide some context. "Here, Paul is trying to deal with a cockroach infestation on the ship with little regard to the other two. You will notice that they often heap abuse upon one another, however I believe that is merely how they cope with their situation; I have observed that they stick together in times of genuine danger." He thought about that a moment, "most of the time, anyway," he conceded.
The four Dwarfers couldn't help but glance at one another sheepishly; Flacco couldn't have any idea how close he was coming to describing their own circumstances; maybe they had more in common with these strangers than they realised.
"I have also noticed that they live in a highly slapstick based world," he continued conversationally as he carried out routine observations, gently lifting one of the real Paul's eyelids and shining a pen torch into one eye, then the other and feeling for a pulse at the wrist. After satisfying himself that responses were normal he moved on to Tim.
"In this state the normal rules don't necessarily apply. Injuries are only sustained for as long as they are funny; the three of them can appear to hurt one another desperately and suffer only minor discomfort." As if on cue, on the screen, Paul stabbed Richard in the eye with a chopstick causing him to scream silently. Paul pulled it out again leaving Richard clutching his eye for a while before seeming to forget about it at which point he appeared none the worse for wear and went back to eating his meal.
They watched in rapt silence, eyes glued to the screen as a series of bizarre and surreal happenings occurred, culminating in Richard, with a miniaturised Flacco's interference, coughing up so many nerf balls that the floors were disappearing under the weight of them, Tim turning into a giant cockroach and Paul attacking them both with his gas gun.
They looked at each other incredulously as though for confirmation that they hadn't imagined what they had just seen.
Lister cleared his throat uncertainly. "Erm, are their dreams usually like that?"
"Oh no, sometimes they can be quite strange," replied Flacco obliviously. "Come on, let's leave them be."
They followed their host back to the living room.
"Well, now that you've seen them will you help me?" asked Flacco hopefully.
They gazed around once more at the jumble of priceless antiques, strewn with so little care about them and decided that the risk was worth it.
"Yeah, we'll help you," said Lister, "if you'll just show us the way back to Starbug we'll come and pick you up."
"Certainly," said Flacco clapping his hands in delight, "it's this way."
Once they'd returned to Red Dwarf it wasn't long before the Titanic II was sitting safely ensconced in hangar bay 12 and they got started on the mammoth task of moving the collection to adjacent sections of the hold.
Flacco took the opportunity to step out of his craft for the first time in years and whistled in awe at the expanse of the hangar.
"Say, nice place you got here."
"Thanks" replied Lister, coming to greet him pushing a large trolley. "The others will be along in a minute, Kryten's just gone to get some equipment; we're going to have to manually unseal your loading bay, which means you won't be able to leave until we've finished the unloading. But don't worry, we'll be able to make you space worthy again before you go." Lister hesitated, reluctant to inform their guest of the conditions Rimmer had insisted on; even he had thought them sensible precautions under the circumstances but he was a little worried how their guest would react.
"I'm afraid I must also make you aware that if something goes wrong with your," Lister groped around for the right word, "'passengers' or vessel before that time it may be necessary for us to jettison your craft, possibly even if you were still aboard." Lister carefully observed Flacco's response for hostility but to his surprise the little man seemed to take this information in his stride.
"Of course, son. You must take care of your own. I appreciate that our mere presence puts you at something of a risk and you must do what you think best to minimize that risk. I would be just as cautious if our positions were reversed."
"You'd be welcome to join us if…" Lister started, not wanting there to be any hard feelings between them but Flacco just put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it, eh?" said Flacco as Kryten, Rimmer and the Cat arrived with three more trolleys and the cutting equipment.
Over the next few days they made steady progress with the unloading, despite the frequent distractions caused by particularly interesting items. Flacco for his part, when he wasn't helping with the work, maintained a close watch on his charges. However since they seemed none the worse for this change to their situation he decided to risk a suggestion.
"I wonder," he said one night over dinner, "whether you would like to meet my friends properly."
"How do you mean?" asked Rimmer worriedly, who, although he had somewhat warmed to their guest since discovering a whole floor of military treasures, was still intensely wary of the three sleepers in the basement.
"I mean, I could let you into their dream world for a while, it's easy to do, I've often done it myself. It helps stop them getting bored. In fact, it may be very beneficial for them to have new people to talk to. You needn't worry; you really can't get hurt in there, as you have seen. Well not for any amount of time anyway." He looked thoughtfully at Kryten, "I'm afraid I do not think it will be possible for you to join them, I do not know how my technology will affect mechanoids."
"Oh I don't mind sir, but if I may monitor the results?"
"Of course, of course."
"Well, I'm game," said Lister enthusiastically, he had sometimes watched Flacco as he worked and couldn't help but be impressed by his skill and devotion. And anyway, dreamscapes must be a walk in the park for them by now.
"Cat, how about you?"
"Are you kidding? To talk to someone good-looking for a change."
"Rimmer?"
"Not a chance," he said adamantly, folding his arms.
With a bit of needling from Lister and the Cat, Rimmer gave in eventually; although some of his resistance was for show, there was a part of him that was just as intrigued as the rest of them.
"I will need to study some of your personal medical records so I can calibrate my machines to you," said Flacco. "Although they'll want a week or so to give them enough preparation for your arrival so there'll be plenty of time."
"Fine," commented Rimmer acidly, "we might have finished the first floor by then."