Cazflibs: Thanks to the two of you who have reviewed. Very much appreciated though I would like more feedback. Don't just read and leave! Praise/flame – anything to make it better. Now for a bit of a cliffhanger…
The CANARIES stepped out of the shuttle and were immediately hit by the piercingly hot sunshine, which seemed to slice through their uniforms like glass. Not for the first time, Rimmer mentally cursed whoever thought it was a good idea for them to be wearing a thick jacket, padded vest and ship-issue steel-capped boots in 105. F temperatures. He would later be thankful for such small mercies.
Kryten pulled back from the rest of the group and gestured for the others to do the same. Lister recognised the worried look in Kryten's eye that he always tried to hide in potentially dangerous situations, and silently realised that this was going to be no stroll along the beach. Even when Starbug was sent into a fiery, spinning death-dive, Kryten would be trying to put a positive spin on things and encouraging a few choruses of Achy Breaky Heart.
"Sirs, ma'am," he began softly, "I was just thinking that you may wish to know that there is a teensy little problem to watch out for after we split up that you may wish to consider in order to make your time on this planet a tad more comfortable."
The four of them blinked twice. Lister scratched his head carefully. "As in 'we may be in danger of running out of factor 25 sunblock' sort of teensy, or 'we may encounter a seven-foot tall armour-plated, alien killing-machine that may be inclined to rip our head off' sort of teensy?"
Missing the sarcasm completely, Kryten calmly shook his head. "Neither of those little conundrums, sir, no." He tapped a cubed finger on the readout of the psi-scan. "I'm getting readings that the sub-ground level of the planet is in fact a network of caverns, making some ground areas of the planet highly unstable. This would probably suggest the reason that the battalion got separated and lost contact with Red Dwarf."
Rimmer visibly relaxed. "So there's no danger of encountering aforementioned killing-machine?" he asked.
Kryten shook his head. "Not according to the psi-scan, sir."
Rimmer rubbed his hands together and smiled brightly. "Well then, people. Let's get on with this little stroll and be back in time for lunch."
"I second that," Cat purred, "I wanna get back on that shuttle and get in some precious snoozing time." He hoisted his heavy bag, laden with beauty products, onto his back with graceful agility and headed west. A grumbling Kochanski followed, attempting to comb her gloved fingers through the tangled mane that was her hair and continued to growl about missing a certain Australian soap.
Kryten sighed. Perhaps a few choruses of Bye Bye Baby would provide sufficient entertainment for her. He leaned over to Lister and gestured with his radio transmitter. "By the way, sir, if you wish to contact us rather than using the group's channel, then we'll be on channel three."
He nodded thankfully. "See you at the 13:00 rendezvous." Lister turned and watched Rimmer already strolling east, humming a number from Peter and the Wolf. "If I don't lose my sanity first," he added.
The pair walked together in silence for almost two hours. The terrain warped and waned in the heat haze, hypnotic in its distortion of distance and time. Lister puffed and panted two steps behind as he watched Rimmer, still keeping the pace that he started out with, before finally giving up, spluttering to a stop like a run-down Skoda. It took Rimmer a further five paces before he realised that the second set of footsteps crunching into the dry, gritty sand had stopped, and he turned to see Lister sinking to the ground and fishing out his water bottle from his bag. He didn't join him. Instead, he frowned, despite the sweat that marinated his body and the sun that insisted on stewing him in his own juices.
"What are you doing?" he asked, with feigned surprise. He was in fact glad that it had been Lister to initiate the first rest-break rather than himself. He'd kept pushing himself, hoping to appear the fitter specimen of the two.
Lister wiggled the water bottle playfully as if explaining something slowly to a small child. "I'm having a break and drinking some water because, strangely enough, I don't fancy passing out."
Rimmer folded his arms. "You can't need a break already," he snorted. His parched mouth and swimmy head screamed the opposite.
Lister shook his head. "Rimmer, don't be an idiot. It's not weakness, it's common bloody sense." He noticed the rivers of sweat that trickled down Rimmer's face, pulling his usually frizzy hair into wet curls on his face. "It looks like you need it too."
Rimmer's raised his eyebrow and ran his gloved hand slowly across his forehead in what he hoped would be an innocent and non-inspired gesture. Relenting, he too pulled off his backpack, thumped it down, gratefully, on the scorched, hard ground and slumped back on his haunches.
Lister peeled off his gloves and padded vest with difficulty. Seeing this, mid-gulp of water, Rimmer half-choked. "What are you doing? The rules say you're supposed to keep it on at all times for protection!"
Lister shot him a look that could pierce rock. "Sod the bloody rules, Rimmer. I'm not baking to death in order to follow regulations." He swigged hard from his bottle once more. It felt dangerously light yet he ignored it. They'd be back at the rendezvous in just over a couple of hours anyway.
"But what if something attacks us?" Rimmer implored. "We're supposed to be ready at all times!"
The two of them scanned the surrounding landscape. There was nothing but sand and rock as far as the eye could see. Rimmer growled inwardly at the stupidity of the remark.
"Believe me, Rimmer. If something was approaching to attack us, we'd know about it at least five minutes before, wouldn't you say?" Lister smirked. "Plenty of time to show off your RoadRunner act, don't worry."
Rimmer frowned. "All right, no need to score below the belt." He swigged from his water bottle angrily. Why couldn't Lister see that rules were there for his own protection? All right, a load of them were pretty stupid; suicidal, one might define this particular rule in such baking heat. But if it was down to a choice between not having adequate defensive protection if they got attacked and getting a bit hot and sweaty, Rimmer knew which option suited him better.
The silence between them was broken as the radio transmitter nestled in the side pocket of Rimmer's backpack crackled urgently into life. "Team D, this is Canary Nest. Important discovery made in your vicinity, over."
Lister and Rimmer exchanged anxious glances before Rimmer pulled out the radio and spoke nervously into it. "Canary Nest this is Team D, what's the problem? Over."
There was a buzz of strange static before a reply came. "Team D, there has been a strange chemical gas detected in your vicinity, do you copy? Over."
The pair automatically clamped a hand over their mouth and nose in panic. "What's the procedure?" Rimmer mumbled through his hand. "Where's it coming from?" There was a pause. "Oh, over."
"We think that the most likely cause is that," more strange static, "you guys stink!"
The pair blinked at one another before Lister released the hand from his mouth and snatched the radio from Rimmer and barked into it. "Kill Crazy! Is that you?"
The strange static came louder than before. It was laughter.
Rimmer released his mouth, shock and anger etched on his features. "What the hell!"
"Kill Crazy, you bastard! This isn't a joke!" Lister yelled. He wiped away the beads of sweat that somehow stood out cold on his brow. Rimmer growled audibly and sank back heavily until his head cracked against the hard-baked sand. He hit it repeatedly.
Lister flicked the switch on the transmitter, almost breaking it off and tossed it onto the ground between the two of them. "Bastards," he snarled.
The ground felt like a clay-oven against his head as Rimmer let out a forceful sigh. He stared up at the orange-tinged sky. "Maybe I could just stay here for the rest of eternity," he mused.
"Yeah," came the reply. "Do us all a bloody favour."
Rimmer was about to retort with a shot of verbal venom when a noise purring in his ears made him stop. It was a sort of distant rumbling that seemed to resonate from some unseen source. He pushed his weight up, leant on his arms and listened. "Do you hear that?" he asked.
Lister narrowed his eyes as he listened. "Yeah," he said distantly, as he concentrated on trying to find its source. "Where is it coming from?"
Rimmer could almost feel the energy buzzing underneath his hands that rested on the arid ground. His eyes widened slightly. "Oh God," he mumbled, "don't tell me it's the –"
An ugly crack suddenly thrust its way through the parched earth between them. The two men scrabbled back instinctively, sending a network of ugly, jagged cracks stretching out underneath them. Lister froze. The more they moved, the more the cracks widened.
"Rimmer!" he cried out. "Keep still, for smeg's sake or the whole bloody thing's gonna collapse!"
Rimmer reluctantly obeyed, still on all fours. "Oh great plan, Lister. We'll just stay here for a few hours, shall we, and admire the bloody view!" More cracks appeared around his hands. "Oh smegging hell…" he whined.
Lister spotted the radio in the five-metre space between them. "Rimmer, listen! We need to grab the radio and get some help, ok?" Lister shuffled forward agonisingly slowly. A fresh burst of cracks opened up around his legs. Shit. It was no use.
"Rimmer! We're just gonna have to go for it and leg it away from the unstable site!"
Rimmer whimpered as the cracks from his hands extended towards his feet. "The whole thing will go!" he cried.
"After 'three', ready?" Rimmer nodded quickly. Lister swallowed.
"One –"
A huge groan burst up from the ground as the entire site collapsed, sending Lister and Rimmer tumbling into the dark, cavernous void.
