Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews - I didn't even realise some of you had been following this fic! Glad to know you're all enjoying it (and your love/hate relationships with my cliffhangers).

Do you know how long this chapter took me to write? Two weeks. Two smegging weeks working on it for at least an hour or two a day. That's how much I love you lot. Seriously ^__^

Plus! I'm heading to the Red Dwarf convention 'Dimension Jump' this year (my third attendance)! Huzzah! If any of you lovely lot are coming along (apart from the wonderful Hummingbird who I shall most certainly be boogying with on the dancefloor) then please do come up and say hey. Would be nice to meet you.

I'm not that weird/scary in real life. Honest.

It couldn't have taken him too long to come round after the explosion, Rimmer reasoned to himself. He could still see the singed remnants of research papers that fluttered to the ground like snow; the air clinging thick with white smoke.

Rimmer hauled himself to sit upright with a weak groan, the broken glass tumbling from his head and chest. He could feel his lightbee as it pulsed and strained inside him, begrudgingly embarking on yet another self-repair on his flickering image.

"McGruder?" he croaked. "Are you ok?"

McGruder didn't answer.

"McGruder - ?"

Casting about frantic eyes, Rimmer's stomach plummeted as he found him lying silently a few feet away, shimmering in the low light with a fine layer of broken glass. Scrabbling over to join him, he hesitated for a moment, fearful of the worst, before pressing quivering fingers to his neck.

His entire chest heaved with relief. He was alive.

The deck crunched beneath him as he sat back on his haunches and sighed. McGruder was out for the count; his inanimate face seeming peaceful against the cuts and scratches that flecked his cheeks and forehead.

Rimmer had just been silently grumbling to himself that McGruder didn't look like an overly light load to haul back to the ship. He'd just been daring to wonder if things could possibly get any worse. And that's when he heard it - the whirring of servos through the swirling smoke that signalled that a) he had bigger problems to contend with, and b) they could get worse. A hundred times worse.

It seemed that the DefenceBot was being disappointingly thorough, keen on ensuring that it had completed its mission with fatal accuracy. Rimmer watched through the receding smokescreen as its distant shadow grew slowly larger; the 'Bot staggering to climb through the shattered glass partition. It was now abundantly clear that after ensuring McGruder's survival, Lady Luck had bailed out on him on this one; most likely now draping herself across the shoulders of a wealthy Blerion trader as he gambled away his earnings in some Galactic Bazaar drinking pit.

"Bugger," he mused metaphorically. Karma really did hold sway in the cosmos.

As not to give away McGruder's position, Rimmer quickly scrambled across the room alongside the back wall, keeping low, his hands hovering in readiness above the guns stashed in his belt. He froze behind an upturned stainless steel lab table. The DefenceBot had clocked him; its red camera 'eye' regarding him with wordless contempt.

"That wasn't very nice, you know," Rimmer reprimanded with a tut as he straightened. "I'd give that welcome a zero out of ten."

Rimmer watched as the Bot's claw-like fingers retreated back, balling into large fists. He'd learned over the years that when it came to a battle, you had to throw yourself in head-first. All or nothing. Yes, this robot before him was a bone fide killing machine, probably had 35 methods of murder programmed into its CPU and had chalked up more deaths than Rimmer had enjoyed hot dinners. But you just had to look on the bright side.

There were two important things that he had learnt about his electronic existence during his nine years as Ace that had always helped his skills in combat - the two reasons why he was smiling.

One. Back in the late 21st Century, when the Space Corps was designing the first class of holograms, what the technicians lacked in know-how in replicating the complexities of touch sensation, they more than made up for in creating impeccable sight observation.

Two. The technology hard-light afforded electronic life forms, such as himself, a level of strength he could never have dreamt of when he was alive. The fact that holograms harnessed the power of light itself meant that if he moved hard and fast enough, he could shift almost anything.

The aperture 'blinked' over the camera eye, the red glow disappearing for a moment in distant thought. "Threat level eight," it announced eventually.

A wicked grin stretched across Rimmer's face. "Much better," he relented before arching an inviting eyebrow. "Shall we?"

The instant the DefenceBot launched itself towards him, Rimmer had already reacted; springing his weight and balance onto his left leg, its partner kicked the upturned lab table before him as hard as he was physically able. The 'Bot didn't have a chance to dodge its fatal trajectory. As the two collided spectacularly in mid-air, a clash of metal on metal, Rimmer snatched out his guns and let forth a flurry of bullets. By the time the 'Bot had crashed to the floor only a few feet before him, it sported ten fresh bullet holes across the CPU casing on its chest; a sure-fire method of shutting down any robotic life form.

Or so Rimmer thought.

Clearly rather upset, the DefenceBot hauled itself to its feet in a flash of angered sparks, a panel sliding back from its left upper arm to extend forth a rather nasty-looking M249 light machine gun. Rimmer's face fell, his arms slowly dropping with dreaded realisation as he stared down the barrel.

There was a third, and rather important, nugget of wisdom he'd learnt during his last nine years as Ace. When you're faced with an automatic weapon, you run like hell.

Rimmer quickly turned and sprinted away towards the safety of the next lab table; artificial adrenaline surging through his system as he heard the tell-tale click before the inevitable rally of gunfire. He leapt, gritting his teeth as he felt a spray of bullets lance across his back, rolled across the top of the table and dropped to the safety it offered behind, the remaining gunfire peppering bubbles into the stainless steel.

His image crackling at the edges, Rimmer sucked in a breath as the static began to buzz in his ears. The computer was going to be so very annoyed with him when he got back to Wildfire. A haggard smile inched across his face as he grimaced against the pain. He was completely invalidating his lightbee's warranty.

The moment that the onslaught ceased, Rimmer hauled himself back up to peek his guns over the ledge of the lab table and returned fire, ploughing another rally of bullets into the CPU's casing. He quickly ducked back down as another incessant flurry of gunfire hammered into the table once more.

Rimmer cursed audibly as the gathering momentum of metallic footfall against the rapid gunfire suggested that the DefenceBot was rapidly approaching - keen to end the formalities and focus on ending him instead. His brain spluttered for options. He couldn't break cover for fear of getting pummelled with bullets. But equally, he couldn't just sit there and wait for the 'Bot to reach him for fear of giving the warranty on his lightbee a serious run for its money.

Rimmer slid out the magazines of his guns and immediately snapped them back in again, wishing he'd never looked. With only twelve bullets remaining, he really didn't have a choice. Or did he?

'Ippy dippy - ' Oh screw it…

Drawing back both legs, Rimmer kicked out at the table as hard as he could, propelling it forward with a teeth-grinding screech into the path of the oncoming DefenceBot.

Clang.

Rimmer glanced up and immediately winced. Well, that hadn't quite gone to plan. The 'Bot had stopped the oncoming table dead underneath its huge, claw-like foot, as if it were only a football.

It was almost as if the DefenceBot had anticipated such a response from him. As if it were adapting to its adversary's attacks. Learning.

Moving in unison, they each glanced down at the table and back up to one another. Servos buzzed innocently as the 'Bot simply 'blinked' in realisation.

Uh-oh.

Rimmer dived to his left, narrowly avoiding the metal table as it flew across the room and crashed against the back wall where he'd just been crouching. So much for breaking cover. He quickly pulled himself to his feet and started firing desperately as the 'Bot changed weapons.

On the third round, he noticed that the droid twitched strangely, as if he'd hit something key. He kept firing in the same spot, noticing with a rising sense of relief that the 'Bot had ceased trying to shift weaponry and was showing signs of system failure. By the eighth round, the 'Bot gave another series of violent twitches.

Three…two…one…

Rimmer watched as with a final shudder, the DefenceBot collapsed to the ground, the red glow of the camera 'eye' dying with a low hum.

In the silence that followed, Rimmer let go of a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding. Guns still trained on the pile of lifeless metal, he stalked slowly closer, his boots crunching on the glass-gritted floor. He extended a cautious foot and prodded one of the large, metallic arms. No response.

A cocky smile tugged at the edge of his mouth as he lowered his guns. "I think that deserves a promotion to 'threat level ten', don't you?" he challenged. The 'Bot had nothing to say on the matter.

Inwardly, he was rather pleased with the situation – thirty-six bullets down, 'Bot down. Not an inch wasted. Time to save McGruder, bring him back to the Colony, and be named as hero of the hour. He grinned to himself. The best bit of the job.

With a relieved chuckle, Rimmer released the spent magazines from his guns. The two hollow clangs as they hit the deck were clearly what the DefenceBot was waiting for.

Rimmer gave a choked gasp as the 'Bot's arm shot out, rattle-snake fast, and snared him tightly by the throat. Caught off guard, he immediately dropped his guns and grasped the 'Bot's impossibly strong arm as it lifted him effortlessly off the ground, his boots kicking out frantically in mid-air. The damn thing had clearly been counting his rounds, waiting for him to drop his defences before executing its final attack.

The red 'eye' awoke once more, regarding him in stony silence as the 'Bot rose up to its full seven-foot height. Rimmer could make out his own panicked stare reflected back at him in the glass of the camera as he desperately trying to loosen the claw's vice-like grip. Yes, technically he couldn't be choked to death but it still hurt like hell.

Clearly confused by its target's irrational and irritating refusal to die, the 'Bot's resolve and grip doubled in ferocity. Rimmer grit his teeth as he was thrust up against the back wall, staring back hard into the lifeless, mechanical eye. The pressure was unbearable, yet he couldn't help but grin inwardly. Even after three unsuccessful murder attempts, the DefenceBot clearly hadn't worked it out.

Noticing that Rimmer's pained grimace twitched with an edge of smugness, the aperture closed over the red glow as if narrowing in suspicion. A neon red light scanned across Rimmer's face once more, and he recoiled at the harsh brightness.

"Electronic life form," the DefenceBot buzzed, its monotone voice etched with a tone of sudden recognition.

Bugger.

Rimmer's brow knotted with fear as a horribly familiar, high-pitched whine sounded from the claws wrapped around his neck. He had a strong suspicion that he wasn't going to enjoy what was about to happen one little bit. He wasn't wrong.

An involuntary cry of agony was ripped from his throat as the 'Bot fired unrelenting blasts of electricity through his system. He could feel his lightbee radiating white-hot in his chest as the rest of his image crackled and spasmed in static. Struggling against the sharp, stabbing pains that lanced up and down his spine, his fingers scrabbled desperately at the clamp-like claw to free himself but to no avail. Through blinding blue flashes, he watched in mounting horror as the harsh glare of the camera eye stared at him coldly, not even flickering with mercy.

And in one sickening instant, Rimmer figured it out. The DefenceBot was trying to create a power surge that would overload his lightbee and shut his projection down.

The pressure building in his chest strained for freedom, his entire image feeling like it was burning and charring in flames. A choked sob begged for release as the agony reached a crescendo, and for one horrible moment in time, he almost didn't care which side of the fence he fell.

And then it came. His salvation.

The DefenceBot recoiled suddenly, a series of sparked flashes pounding into its body armour. Out of the corner of his eye, Rimmer could see McGruder, clearly having finally regained consciousness, standing his ground across the room to his left, firing round after round into the Bot's side.

Rimmer gave a pained gasp as the electricity suddenly wrenched itself out of his body. The death grip around his neck released and he crumpled to the floor in a splutter of coughs and heaves. As the 'Bot turned its attentions to its second target, panic slowly began to drip-feed through the fuzzy, distorted mess that his mind had become. The whirring of servos and the tell-tale loading click of a Heckler & Koch firearm gave the jump-start his vocal chords needed.

"McGruder! Get back!" he yelled.

McGruder pulled back as the first round of gunfire thundered towards him, leaping behind the safety of an upturned lab table. He grunted as a searing white-hot pain in his side began to pulse but pushed it to one side in his mind. It would have to bloody well wait and join the queue - every part of his body seemed to have lined up at the complaints desk after that explosion.

"McGruder! Are you alright?" came the cry over the dying echoes of gunfire.

McGruder snapped out the magazines from each of his guns to do a quick count and reloaded. "Peachy!" he snorted back with all the sarcasm he could muster.

Laughter swirled in the gun smoke that was beginning to choke the room. "About time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty!"

"Just in time to save your arse once again!" McGruder hollered back. Peering around the side of the table, he could see the fervent flickering of Rimmer's image as he crouched behind a bank of computer desks across the room, grinning back at him.

Rimmer cocked an eyebrow. "So what happened to the 'No Gun Rule'?"

McGruder's face hardened as the DefenceBot knocked aside a row of lab tables with a single sweep of its almighty claw, clearly keen on finishing the job. "Just shoot the damn thing!" he cried over the din, sliding one of his precious guns like an ice hockey puck across to Rimmer so that it skittered across the deck and into grateful hands.

Rimmer was about to bark out commands when McGruder beat him to it. "I'll take out the visuals," he asserted. "You go for the CPU."

Exasperated, Rimmer shook his head. "What do you think I've been filling with bullets for the last fifteen minutes?" he shouted back. "I've been firing at the bloody CPU casing and it's done nothing!"

McGruder thrust his hands over his head as a rogue lab chair hurtled in his direction missed by mere inches, shattering against the far wall. "It's not like other droids," he yelled back. "The CPU is housed on its back, not its chest plate."

Rimmer mentally smacked himself round the head for his stupidity. He'd been wasting round after round most likely shooting a decorative panel that housed the tea and coffee making facilities. "I knew that," he muttered.

Peering around the corner of the computer bank desks to watch the 'Bot storming towards McGruder, he could finally see it - the small, square panel on its back that shielded the precious CPU. As he levelled his aim and fired, venting some much needed aggression into the CPU plate, he couldn't help but think that this was the sort of stress therapy Kryten should have suggested years ago.

He glanced across to see McGruder peeking up from the safety of the lab table, firing with a degree of accuracy and focus that Rimmer had never witnessed before. This boy was good. Five, perhaps six bullets down, the camera eye on the DefenceBot exploded in a squeal, a flurry of red sparks spurting forth as the 'Bot staggered weakly, lashing out in a blind sense of panic.

"Visuals down!" McGruder cried, triumphant. "Take it out!"

Rimmer needed no further encouragement. A second barrage of gunfire thundered into the CPU's casing followed by a series of hollow clicks. He cursed audibly.

No more bullets. No other options bar one. The hands-on approach.

Breaking cover, he swiftly hoisted himself up onto the long, stainless steel computer desk and raced across its length towards the DefenceBot, the long-dead monitors and electronic research equipment kicked away and smashing to the floor in his wake. As he reached the end of the desk, Rimmer used the extra height to springboard a flying leap, landing square on the 'Bot's back.

The 'Bot thrashed wildly like a Bucking Bronco, yet Rimmer managed to secure a tight grip with one hand. Flipping back his gun so that the barrel sat in his palm, he cracked down the butt of the gun onto the battered edge of the CPU housing over and over until it fell loose. Tearing it away to reveal the mess of snaking wires and flashing lights, Rimmer grabbed a large handful of wires and tugged as hard as he physically could. Spasms of electronic pulses danced up his arm before they ripped free, and the DefenceBot gave a final, desperate shudder before it crashed to the floor lifeless, powering down with a low hum.

Releasing a shuddered breath, Rimmer stepped down to the floor and surveyed the devastation around him. Upturned lab tables and chairs swept across the length of the Science Room, shattered glass and spent bullets littering the floor. His image was just as devastated; crackling and flickering as his lightbee fought to restore normal transmission.

He grinned weakly as McGruder regarded him with distinct amusement from behind the lab table. "No wonder you SCMs have such a reputation," he quipped, masking his concern. "That was some seriously lethal shooting back there."

McGruder nodded graciously. "Well you know what they say," he chuckled warmly. "Never cross - argh!"

McGruder stopped suddenly as he moved to stand, clutching his side in agony. The pain that he'd pushed to the back of the queue earlier had suddenly lurched to the forefront with a vengeance. Now that the adrenaline had subsided, he realised with a fluttering sense of panic quite how insistent and overwhelming it was.

"McGruder?" Visibly concerned, Rimmer's swift stride quickly broke into a run as he raced over towards him. "Are you - ?"

The word froze in his mouth as McGruder pulled his hands away, his palms slick with blood.

McGruder looked distantly concerned for a moment before his unsteady gaze met his. He seemed to open his mouth to speak, which instead disintegrated into a weak groan as Rimmer rushed forward to grab him before he hit the deck, lost words mumbled into his flight jacket.

************

Ellie shielded a yawn with the back of her hand as she extended her arm above her in a cat-like stretch. The night had well and truly drawn in back on the Colony, and after a long day of treating a varying host of ailments, she was now resigned to treating herself to a nice long sleep. She turned to her medical support team – a pair of sisters who had once worked with her on the SS Leviticus – and smiled.

"All right, chick-a-dees," she announced. "Time for bed. Good work today."

The brunette smiled back with a weary sigh and unclipped her hair, allowing her long, dark locks to tumble over her shoulders. "It is late," she conceded. She held the clip between her teeth to shrug off her white jacket, speaking in lost consonants. "I hope your Ron isn't so hungry that he's gnawing on his toolbox!"

Ellie snorted as she followed suit. "Nah," she brayed. "That husband of mine can wait."

A distant voice, all-too-familiar, called through the open doorway. "Ellie! Ellie!"

The blonde flicked an amused eyebrow. "Apparently not," she smirked.

Ellie rolled her eyes as she hung up her jacket. "What is it with men and their dinner? Honestly, it's only plain old boring rice for the umpteenth time." She thrust her hands on her hips. "You'd think he was expecting a full Sunday roast or summit!"

Ron's voice called out once more, the urgency now clear in his tone. "Ellie! For the love of god, girl, I need some help here!"

The shared grins fell as the women exchanged worried glances. Hurrying across to the doorway as swiftly as her waddle would allow, Ellie drew in a shocked gasp before turning back to the pair.

"Ladies quick, prepare bed 3!" she barked, her face suddenly pale. "McGruder's hurt!"

The trio burst in, Ron and Rimmer supporting the now unconscious McGruder between them. The sisters swiftly took action as Ellie called out for a host of unfamiliar drugs - unhooking the heavy, draped arm from Rimmer's shoulders and helping Ron to carry him to the bed.

Rimmer staggered back weakly as the weight was finally lifted, watching as they left. With no comms link to Wildfire, he hadn't had a chance to self-repair his lightbee, and he was now feeling decidedly worse for wear.

Ellie turned back to face him hurriedly. "Darling, you look awful," she clucked with concern. "Come lie down on the bed, let me check you over."

Rimmer's jaw jabbered silently as he stumbled for an excuse. "No really, I'm fine honest," he managed eventually, his mind growing thicker with distressed static. "I just need to get back to my ship and I'll feel right as rain." He clawed behind him, unseeing, for the doorframe.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ellie insisted. "You're clearly hurt." She moved forward to join him and Rimmer tried to back away. "Come on, it's nothing I haven't seen before."

"I'm fine, I'm fine - " Rimmer chanted as he leant against the doorframe, less of a reassurance for Ellie but more as a mantra for himself. He wasn't sure how much longer he could sustain his image at full projection to keep it from flickering.

Ellie tutted as she cast a glance over her shoulder to see Ron striding across to join her. "Can't you tell him, Ron?" Her brow furrowed as she clocked the look of shock that began to spread across Ron's features as he stared openly beyond her. "Ron?"

And that's when she noticed it. Rimmer's image had begun to crack and fizzle at the edges, pulsing in and out of sight as he slid down against the door, shuddering violently. The pair edged over towards him fearfully, watching as he slumped to his haunches, no longer able to support himself.

"Sweet smegging Betsy," Ron breathed. "He's one of them." He almost spat the word, not quite daring to utter what they now knew to be true. Ron turned back to his wife, the new-found fear and animosity for Rimmer wrestling in his gaze. "What the hell do we do?"

Fetching a large woollen blanket from the nearby bed, Ellie draped it across Rimmer's shoulders, clearly having come to her own conclusion. "Take him back to his craft so he can self-repair," she replied shakily. "Don't let anyone see you."

"You can't be serious - ?"

"Ron, all I know right now is that he's saved McGruder's life bringing him back here to us," Ellie cut in testily before mopping her face with the palm of her hand, dropping her voice low. "Questions can wait another day."

The pair exchanged a charged stare that debated far more than words were able. Relenting, Ron took hold of Rimmer's arm, feeling the shimmers of broken electricity that danced across his skin, and hauled him to his feet, ensuring that the blanket covered his head to shield him.

"Don't worry," he reassured against Rimmer's weak moans of protest as he helped him out of the MediBay. "I've got you."

I can haz review nao? *Puss in Boots eyes* Pwease - ?