monster A/N well here's chapter six. sorry about the delay, but Real Life is a bitch. I had writers block, and my Granddad has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. though we've never really got on, I've been trying to rebuild bridges. I want to thank my one reviewer, you know who you are, and my mate Megan who prompted me to actually publish this fic in the first place, rest assured your prompt fic will be published soon. she also helped me with the light psychology mention in this chapter.

a few notes- wildfire's computer in my fic is named after my Niece because I am broke, it's her birthday on Tuesday, and this seemed like a good present. it is also because of her Ace acts like an evil twat in this fic. this is because she doesn't like him. she had virtually the same reaction as Rimmer when watching DJ except for the gay bit cos she's only young. (its never too early to start kids on RD)

secondly- the binary used in this fic is real. the first and longer piece in the chapter means F*** you and the second shorter bit means up yours. Yes I actually knew this, because I am a nerd, and no I didn't use google. Kryten does act out a bit in this chapter.

thirdly- all subsequent simulants in my stories shall bear the name John because of the twat who sent me and others hate mail about my sexuality on tumblr because of posts about our experiences. you don't like it mate? well boo hoo mate you chose to search for the coming out tag. yes I am a girl, though you'd never know it from the way I write, the pink glasses, dresses etc.

DISCLAIMER- I own nothing. I have a semi broken laptop, red dwarf 1-8 just the shows and the novels, an empty bank account, a tumblr blog you're all welcome to follow and a passport photo that I swear belongs on doctor who or crimewatch. as far as I'm aware this just means I'm sad. it doesn't mean I own RD unfortunately. if I did there'd be canon slash, series 11 would be made, holly would be there and I'd be loaded. so as far as copyright lawyers go, Beggar off! I also don't own Action Man, Sinclair ZX81, Harry Potter or the Flintstones which all get a mention. if I've missed anything I don't own that either.

finally if you don't like really light references to Cat/Wilma Cat/Betty pairings 1) you are a true anorak 2) this chapter is mostly fine just skip the last paragraph of Cat's section

Chapter 6

Ace slipped unnoticed through the decks, slinking towards the cargo bays, using the stairs to avoid attracting attention in the clunky express lifts. Only once did he fear he was being seen, but it was only a scutter, for some unknown reason wearing a cowboy hat and holster. He gave the giraffe-like machine a death-glare, and it raced away following after its friend, letting him continue. Ace was well aware he was more than a little paranoid, but after 30 years or so in a lonely and dangerous existence, he figured he'd earned the right to be a little mad. He was an Ace sure, but he hadn't completely changed. The only difference was that the cowardly nature had become a full front of paranoia and that he now was more than 'just a little barmy'.

After an hour of running along corridors like a bizarre cross between Action Man and a greyhound with a jet engine up its backside, fast but ducking into the shadows every few seconds, he reached the landing bay. He had never been so happy to see the wildfire though to be fair, he'd never been pleased to see the ship at all before anyway. Ace ran up to the craft, wanting to get on with his plan as soon as possible and needing his tools in the ship to do so. Heaving as hard as he could he tried to get the cockpit door to open, but it wouldn't budge no matter how hard he pulled it. "Let me in you jumped up bad excuse for a Sinclair ZX81!" he yelled. In his haste, he then realised, he'd forgotten to put his hand on the biometric scanner. Now, he slammed it down with more force than was strictly necessary swearing in English, and several Ionian/Jovian dialects that he'd learnt at boarding school, yet would never admit to knowing. Finally the hood opened, and the frustrated space hero climbed in, berating the "silly old cow" of a computer and mumbling about his plan as he did so.

He didn't notice Holly listening in, interfacing with Victoria the wildfire's ship computer. Holly liked Victoria, she was the brightest computer he'd met, even brighter than Gordon the computer from the Scott Fitzgerald who'd had an IQ of 8000! Victoria had an IQ of 11,000 but wasn't snotty about it despite having good reason to be- 11,000 was the same as eleven million Justin Bieber fans. She was friendly, and whilst Holly didn't feel the same spark he had for Hilly he liked being around the other computer. Right now he was struggling to teach her the offside rule (for some reason no woman could understand it) and she was teaching him how to regenerate his full 6000 IQ without depleting his runtime.

Meanwhile Kryten was preparing for his part of the plan, get that light bee. He'd put in his extra sensitive eyes, the set with one orange and one green iris and super ears so he could be extra careful. Next he fitted his lightest fingers so that he had the greatest chance of retrieving the bee without being discovered by his target. As an extra precaution he'd stolen the punching bag from the gym and gutted it, placing the stuffing in between his wiring and his plastisteel shell to minimise damage should he be punched or kicked. Or even, God forbid, a fire axe again. Mr Lister, he had noted was no passed the denial stage of grieving and now well into the anger stage, with no signs as to when he'd be moving on to the next stage, bargaining, the "what if…" stage as Kryten's basic Psychology chip called it. Since Mr Lister was now almost always drunk his inhibitions were also going to be limited, making him even more violent.

His final steps of preparation were to pick up his 'worst case scenario kit'. Kryten had used his Virtually Useless Knowledge Chip tm to work out his back-up plan. In the ancient Greek legends creatures, no matter how deadly, could always be pacified using the right tools. This strategy, the chip informed him, had been used successfully as recently as the early 21st century against a creature called Fluffy. The mechanoid had constructed his own kit for the unlikely event that Mr Lister was sober enough to cause serious trouble. It consisted of three extra hot mutton vindaloos and a sock of Lister's that even Kryten had given up as a lost cause, but didn't want to throw away in fear of simulants acquiring it. The last thing he wanted was for them to get hold of a WMD. That would be the equivalent of giving a Bond villain the keys to MI6 and the world's nuclear weapons and then telling them to 'knock themselves out'. Hopefully, the curry would do the job if needed, but if not Kryten had tongs and would be able to chloroform his master with his own sock.

In addition, he also had a light bee canister ready for the broken metal so that they could hold the funeral as soon as possible. The small beacon on the end of the yellow cylinder was already flashing in a steady rhythm, sensing a dead bee and knowing it was going to be used soon. Even Kryten couldn't see the point of giving what was essentially a coffin Artificial Intelligence but he thought that the human who had done it must have had his reasons, and wasn't going to question it. He had struggled to keep his hand steady as he wrote 'Astronavigation officer 3rd Class Arnold Judas Rimmer' on the label, but he associated this with his discomfort about lying in any form rather than grief. He had decided that since Rimmer had 'died' saving them it was fair enough that he should be awarded what he wanted most- being an officer. True 3rd class was the lowest officer rank, and true Rimmer had been awful at astronavigation, but this was the rank Rimmer had failed his exams 11 times trying to achieve. Kryten figured just being an officer would be enough for Rimmer anyway.

Whilst both Ace and Kryten were busy, enacting their own plans for their own purposes, Cat was having a whale of a time. He'd claimed a lot of things as his, and had done his bit for the plan. He was going to suggest shooting the bee out of the garbage cannon. The idea had only taken a minute to come up with, hadn't interrupted his nap time and was the perfect exit for a huge Smeghead, Cat thought.

Now he was enjoying himself. He was sitting in Todhunter's spacious quarters on a waterbed with several containers of Chicken Marengo and Trout a la crème either side of him, watching the Flintstones and having not so quiet fantasies about Wilma. He was in kitty heaven, and nothing was going to get in his way.

He'd done a lot today what with preening and changing clothes as well, so as soon as this episode finished he told himself, he'd fall asleep. Well given the fact the fantasies he was having now about him, Wilma, Betty and a load of Marengo sauce meant parts of him didn't want to go to sleep, he was probably going to rethink that plan. A little kitty time and then have his main snooze, then change just in time for his mid afternoon nap.

Lister was enjoying himself. He'd got past depressed, maudlin drunk and moved on to normal Lister fun drunk as the liberal doses of alcohol dulled his emotional pain. He'd almost forgotten why he wanted to get so blitzed but still something compelled him to drink more and more. He didn't fight it. He could barely keep his eyes open, signalling he was going past fun drunk and into catatonic drunk, but he really couldn't care less. This was the best he'd felt in a long time and though he couldn't think why, he wasn't going to question it. At long last the poor quality lager flowing though his veins had an effect though, and he passed out, hanging off his bunk slightly, years of practise instinctively had him on his side so at least he couldn't suffocate on his own vomit.

It was in this position that Kryten found him in fifteen minutes later, snoring like a pig in muck. To his credit, the mechanoid immediately noticed something was wrong with the scouser, and forgot his original mission, dropping his kit to act. He slapped the human on the cheek trying to wake him up. "Mr Lister, Sir? Wake up" he called "wake up, come now this is the third time in three weeks, don't you think you're getting a tad too old for this at three million and twenty nine years old" but something was different this time. He wasn't waking up. In sheer desperation Kryten wafted a curry from the kit underneath Lister's nose- if this didn't wake him up, nothing would. No reaction. It was serious.

Just then Lister made a murmur "kebab" but he still didn't stir. Kryten gasped. It was worse than he'd feared, alcohol poisoning. He didn't think it was possible, but Mr Lister had finally gone a drink too far. Kryten knew he had to act fast to save the last human, and fireman carried him to the medibay depositing him on one of the beds. He couldn't deal with it himself and woke up the medicomputer to deal with it. "Quick Mr Lister needs help, it's alcohol poisoning" he gasped out, pointing at the wreck of a man. "I cannot help you, Alcohol poisoning is not JMC work related and therefore not within my expected duties" the medicom replied in a nasal tone that rivalled Rimmer's at his worst. Kryten was fuming, he may not lie, cheat or insult humans but machines were different "011001100111010101100011011010 1100100000011110010110111101110101" he yelled unable to say the actual words. The medicom, shocked at his display replied "00100 to you too". Kryten stared and the computer blanched "I'll get right on it."

Soon Lister's stomach was pumped, he was full of saline IVs and he was being watched by the droid like a hawk. He was out of danger, but still would feel like absolute death in the morning. Since he'd had to be put into a hospital gown for the procedure, Kryten had at least procured the light bee, split into two, from Lister's pocket, but it was a bittersweet victory knowing how ill the human could have been.

A/N Reviews feed my muse. it's starving. positives and concrit help. flames will be used to smoke kippers as part of my plan to lure Ace Rimmer to my room, and make him get married to my sister. she has WHAT A CRUSH on WHAT A GUY! then I can have my room to myself and I will be so happy. so really I don't care if you hate the story tell me, I love a good laugh.