Arnold Rimmer scowled as the ship's computer tried unsuccessfully to reach anyone on the surface. River Song had communicated something to him about an emergency yesterday but assured him everything was under control. Since then, no one was answering his smegging calls.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rimmer," the computer said in its ever placid tones, "I'm afraid there is still no response."
"Well, try again," the hologram demanded. He stomped around the cabin in his hard light form, today's time table clenched in one fist. He could only touch physical objects while projected in hard light and right now he was tempted to get physically assaultive with the command console.
"I doubt we would achieve a different result," the computer replied.
Rimmer seethed at the stubborn machine, "Listen, you glorified smeg hopper, I am ordering you to try and contact someone on the surface again. Doesn't it bother you that Professor Song called me about and emergency and suddenly we can't reach anybody?!"
"I'm sure Professor Song has everything in hand," the computer replied.
"Oh, are you?" Rimmer trilled with agitation, waving his neglected time table, "Well, I'm sure our mission is being compromised by your inability to communicate vital information to the team. Without this revision, who knows what might be happening?"
The computer did not respond. Rimmer drew back his shoulders defiantly.
"Fine," he said, "If you can't make contact, then... I'm just going to have to go down there."
"That would not be advised, Mr. Rimmer," the computer warned, "Professor Song asked you to notify the team before you attempted any holographic projection to their vortex manipulators. You have no way of knowing who might be in the team's presence when you appear."
"We can't notify the team, remember?" Rimmer shot back, "What if they're in trouble? Hmm? What if they are in peril and in desperate need of my expertise?"
"What expertise would that be, Mr. Rimmer?" the computer responded.
With a warning finger pointed at the console, the hologram replied, "Shut up. And keep trying to reach someone down there. I'm going to prepare for surface projection."
"Very well," the computer replied with what Rimmer was sure what a derogatory sigh.
Bucky Barnes slept fitfully during the night after the incident with the bomb, dreaming of a past he would have rather forgotten.
Who the hell is Bucky?
The words echoed in his head as phantom pain tore through his cybernetic arm.
Who the hell is Bucky?
I'm Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. It's me.
Who the hell is Bucky?
Why do you keep asking me that? Who is asking me that?
Who the hell is ….
A flash of memory. Explosions. Guns. World War II. An aircraft... some reaching for him... and he is falling... falling... falling toward...
Barnes sat up straight in his cot, breathing heavily and gripping the sides of the bed. His metallic left hand had bent one bar in the cot's rigging. He glanced around and found he was the only person currently using the bunks. Barnes was grateful for the solitude. He swung his legs off the bed and wiped his face with his right hand.
Dreams had come to him since joining River's team but never like this. Nothing that left him in a cold, frightened sweat. Someone kept asking who he was, over and over, and it was terrifying.
Barnes stood and walked to a nearby wash basin. The water was tepid but still refreshing as he splashed his face. He glanced toward a window and saw that it was just after dawn. The rest of the team would be up as well to prepare for their newest expedition. This was to include the full complement of mutant soldiers and time travelers, so there would be a lot to do before they left camp.
Drying his face with a towel, Barnes headed toward his locker to dress while thinking about the nightmare. Parts of it, he knew, were from his days as a soldier, but the setting in his dream was confusing. World War II, he was sure of it. He did not know why but he was sure.
River and Jack had cautioned that proximity to the rift would cause his memories to re-emerge. But, then, the dream could not have been a memory. He had a cybernetic arm and other physical enhancements which would not have been available in the 1940s. So, what did it mean?
Who the hell is Bucky?, he thought, a shiver creeping down his spine, I'm Bucky. Me. Who the hell else would I be? I'm just a kid from New York who...
"I'm from New York," Barnes said aloud to no one as that fact of his life clicked into place. He smiled at this, nostalgia about the city replacing the nightmare as the morning light grew brighter.
Alex and the other three mutant soldiers entered the research team's barracks in the early morning to find Malloy and Professor Song fitting assorted items into their rucksacks. The two women were discussing the expedition in animated tones, not sounding at all like they were getting ready to head into the hostile Vietnamese jungle. He felt a fresh surge of agitation at the risky position into which these people had placed his squad.
No longer was the squad simply escorting a group of scientists doing geological surveys. Instead, they were helping a group of impossible strangers locate some kind of broken fault line that they claim could leak other time lines into their own. Alex thought the whole concept was utter bullshit but Sergeant Fury apparently did not share this view.
Professor Song spotted the soldiers first and greeted them warmly.
"Good morning, gentlemen," she said, "Hope you all slept well. We should have quite an active few days ahead of us."
"Do you have everything you need, ma'am?" Alex asked, cool but cordial.
"I think we do," Song replied, then turned to the other woman and asked, "Rebecca? What about you? All set?"
Malloy nodded, "I guess. Though I was wondering about..."
She paused, glancing at her wrist worn computer with a frown. It was chiming in a rapid sequence of sounds and blinking. She looked up at River with dismay.
"Uh oh," she said, "River... it's Rimmer... he's..."
From a spectrum of light, the form of a man materialized in the barracks, his face pinched in a disapproving glare.
"...here," Malloy concluded with a sigh.
The four soldiers reacted with understandable shock at the sight, each taking a defensive posture. Alex felt energy surge down his arm in response to the possible threat and raised it toward the intruder.
"What the hell was that?" Ink yelped, then modified his question, "Who the hell is that?"
"Gentlemen, please, no need for alarm," River said in an appeasing tone, then chided the new man, "Now, Mr. Rimmer. We spoke about this. You must give us notice before you pop in. Startling soldiers in the middle of a war zone can be very... unhealthy... for those of us who are still living and have the ability to die."
"Unhealthy?" Alex repeated angrily.
"Well," the man they named Rimmer said, "It's not my fault. No one was responding to messages from the ship."
"What?" River asked with surprise, "You've been trying to contact us?"
"Yes, of course," Rimmer responded, "For the past 12 hours. That ship of yours said it wasn't worth continuing its attempts so I decided to project myself down."
River frowned at this and tapped at her own wrist computer, speaking into it and calling for her 'ship' to report in.
"Now," Rimmer said with a smug expression, "I believe introductions are in order."
Malloy shrugged, "Sure, why not. Guys, this is Second Technician..."
"Ahem," Rimmer said, with a false cough into his fist.
"Um... I mean, Sergeant..."
"Ahem."
"Okay, Captain..."
"Ahem."
Malloy sighed and held her hands up pleadingly.
"Admiral?" she asked and Rimmer gave her a contented nod, "Fine. Guys, this is Admiral Rimmer of the Jupiter Mining Corporation. He's kind of... responsible for me..."
Malloy then introduced each Private in turn to the 'Admiral', who nodded approvingly. The soldiers slowly relaxed when it was clear there was no threat from the odd newcomer.
"The Jupiter what?" Haze mumbled to Toynbee, who shook his head and shrugged.
"Well met, Privates," Rimmer said, clasping his hands behind his back, "At ease."
Alex scowled, "We are at ease."
"Ah, very good," Rimmer responded stiffly, "Carry on then. Malloy... Care to catch me up on the...ahem..."
"The rift?" she asked, "Don't need to be cryptic. We already told them..."
"You what?" he exclaimed, "You were supposed to be covert!"
"Rimmer," Malloy said with a laugh, "You just appeared out of thin air and you're worried about us being covert?"
"Yes, well..." Rimmer said, then asked, "You didn't tell them about..."
"My powers?" Malloy asked, "Yep, I did."
"You what?" Rimmer asked again in comical horror.
"Only after I set some smeghead's pants on fire," she replied.
"You what?"
"And then after me and Toynbee stopped this huge explosion yesterday," she continued.
"YOU WHAT?!" Rimmer said, reaching the limit of his outrage, "What explosion?!"
River Song finally intervened to put an end to the nonsense, "I'll explain everything to you later, Mr. Rimmer. For now, just know we will all be heading out to search for the rift's source shortly so I'm afraid your training time table will need to be revised."
Rimmer looked utterly put upon by this but only responded by continuing to glare at Malloy as she spoke.
"Did you reach the ship?" she asked and River shook her head.
"No," the Professor admitted, then added, "But no need for that to postpone our venture. Mr. Rimmer and I can look into the problem while we are en route to the rift."
Captain Harkness and Sergeant Barnes joined the party with their own supplies in tow. River then looked at Alex expectantly, passing the start of the operation to his capable hands.
"Okay," Alex said, already feeling weary of this mission, "Let's roll out."