Hullo, here we are, have another chapter, I hope you like it :) Oh and apologies for any typos, I was very sleepy when I wrote this .
Rimmer paced the corridor, brow furrowed as Lister stood outside the quarantine bay window, his gaze intent. He could hear Kryten's voice echoing over the comm-system;
"Beginning primary decontamination processes now, sir. This will take some time."
There was a small noise of annoyance from Lister as the glass became opaque, shielding those inside from view. He fell back into his chair, one hand resting on the back of his head as he reclined, his face still lit with anticipation. The cat had evacuated some time ago, the sight of vomit causing a rushed exit.
"Ey, Rimmer? Rimmer, man?"
The hologram turned to look at him, steps pausing, feeling his molars click together a couple of times before he replied.
"What?"
"You said that pod was pretty old, right?"
"I suspect so." Rimmer took a few steps forwards to stand next to his bunkmate, looking down at him. "Cryostasis was eradicated by the middle of the twenty second century in favour of stasis in time. It was a lot safer. All the booths were supposed to have been decommissioned…"
The sound of a high pressure hiss came over the speaker above their heads.
Lister turned back to look at the pane of silver before him, drumming his fingers on his thigh.
"So she could'a been out there a while, then?" he said, his voice lower than before.
"It's possible."
"Do you think she knows?"
"Knows wha-"
A high pitched scream sliced through the air, the sound distorted as the speaker whined to transition it. Lister leapt from his seat, covering his ears with the heels of his hands.
"Kryten! What the smeg is goin' on?!"
Rimmer winced as a second wail filled the air, one foot creeping behind as he slowly withdrew.
"Kryten!"
There was an abundant air of struggle in the droid's voice as the reply came, along with the odd grunt and an increasing hiss, the sound of water under immense pressure.
"Do not be alarmed, Mister Lister, sir, I am not harming her," he called, an 'oof' sound following. "She is quite strong!"
"Blimey, it sounds like you're tryin' to kill her in there, man!" Lister pulled his hat off roughly, anxiety creeping over his face in deep lines. He shot a glare back at the hologram, who sucked his teeth for a moment before saying sharply;
"Don't give me that! It had to be done. It could very well be saving her life, and yours!"
Another scream pealed overhead and Rimmer felt his hand involuntarily creeping to his mouth as it led to guttural sobs and choked coughs, then something that couldn't be seen slammed into the window. Kryten was trying to coerce his way around the stranger, all the while rambling;
"I'm sorry, ma'am, truly I am, please hold still, ma'am, you'll slip…"
Lister waved a hand up at the speaker, scowling angrily at his companion.
"Can you hear that? Are you happy now, you slimy, egotistical git?"
Rimmer shook his head, just a fraction, stepping back again as one of the shrieks cracked and gave way to indiscernible pleading.
"Holly, turn it off," he stammered. "Turn the sound -off-."
Abruptly the terrible noise was cut, leaving an unpleasant low whooshing in his ears in it's absence.
"I hope you're pleased with yerself," Lister declared, rounding on him dangerously.
"Don't start, Lister," the dead technician replied, pointing a wavering finger at him. "You know I'm right." He closed his hand into a fist, snapping it tightly to his side and marched away down the corridor before anyone could stop him, feeling sick, Dave staring at the empty space he left incredulously.
He wasn't pleased with himself. He had endured the decontamination processing once, after a wrong turn down an alleyway on Mimas led him into the path of an overflowing cesspit, much to Hollister's obvious delight. The burning de-parasitic powder, the water so hot and so hard you thought it would strip flesh from bone, the brutal, invasive scrubbing with stinking iodine solution…
He wasn't pleased with himself at all. But the woman, and shamefully Lister, were precious cargo. It had to be done.
Several hours later when Lister retreated to their room, Rimmer pretended to be asleep, his face to the wall. He listened to the angry utterances still coming from the other man as he climbed into the bed above, falling into it heavily and causing it to give a moan. For several minutes they lay in the quiet and the dark, until Lister broke the silence, his voice soft;
"Kryten had to sedate her. There's a lot of stuff in her bloodstream apparently, cryoprotectants or sumthin'. It's making her really sick. He's not sure she'll come through the night…"
Rimmer stared at the matte grey wall, swallowing once.
"The only other human bein' in three million years and she could be dead by mornin…" the voice above continued. "This is worse than terrible."
Unable to squeeze any words past the uncomfortable lump in his throat, Rimmer rolled onto his back, hands clasped over his stomach. He had to of done the right thing. He just had to of.
Deep below them, Kryten stood watchfully over the unconscious woman, gently brushing her hair into a fan over the pillow beneath her head in a maternal fashion. Every couple of seconds a low beep sounded from a screen above her head, an electric blue dot of light pinging into being, sliding across the screen, then vanishing again each time.
When Rimmer awoke the next morning he was alone once more, Lister surprisingly having vacated his bed before him. He sat up onto the side of the mattress slowly, resting his elbows on his thighs, steepled fingertips lightly touching his bottom lip.
No one had been to wake him. Which meant one of two things; good news or bad news.
"Holly, uniform," he muttered, getting to his feet with a low sigh, feeling a small surge as his appearance changed. He really didn't want to leave this room and face Lister's accusing stares again. He just didn't seem to understand, he was trying to be the good guy.
Steeling himself, he commanded the door open, trudging his way to the mess. Stopping at the doorway to peer inside he found it empty, their table clear. Quirking an eyebrow he turned about again, his pace picking up as he headed for the red railed stairs that lead to the quarantine deck, walking first, then breaking into a trot.
As he reached the corridor he saw Lister and the Cat stood outside the woman's window, Lister with his hand on his hips, his face torn between fear and perplexion. The Cat was staring too, and Rimmer heard him say loudly,
"Man, she is one crazy cuckoo bird!"
He started running then, skittering up to them and looking eagerly though the window.
"Is she alive? Where is she?" he panted, swaying one way then the other trying to see the woman. At first the room looked empty and he felt a sensation akin to his stomach dropping. Beside him Lister tapped on the window twice, then pointed to the far left.
"There," he said, shaking his head. "Kryten left to sluice himself off in another decontamination shower just over an hour ago. He said she suddenly shot over there at about four o'clock in the morning and hasn't budged since. Almost blew his head off from the shock. She just suddenly woke up.."
"I don't see anything," Rimmer huffed, leaning further, "are you sure she's- oh…"
Tucked right in the furthest reach of the fore left corner, only just visible in the periphery of his vision, sat the woman. She was dressed in a pale blue and papery hospital gown, her legs pulled right up into her chest with her arms crossed over them, face buried in her knees, creamy blonde hair falling in a smooth curtain to her shoulders. Her exposed shins and forearms were smudged with bruises and a melolin dressing was tacked to the inside of her left calf. She was rocking back and forth slowly, fingers blanched as she clutched herself tightly.
Rimmer slowly slid his attention to Lister, asking in a whisper,
"Has she been doing this all morning?"
"Yeah. That's not the worst bit though. Listen to this." Dave looked up at the speaker above their heads, raising his voice. "Holly, could ye turn the sound on?"
"Right you are."
There was a moment of feedback and Rimmer straightened up, listening eagerly for a few moments, then frowned.
"I don't hear anything," he said, slipping one hand into his pocket.
"Wait for it," Lister replied. "Holly, increase the volume would ye?"
Another whistle came from the speaker as it adjusted and Rimmer cocked his head towards it. Lister held up an index finger, whispering;
"Listen now. Really carefully."
After a few moments the hologram became aware of a low muttering, something rhythmic and repetitive.
"What is that?" he asked, a deep crease appearing in his brow either side of the residing H.
"Just wait for it," Lister said again, then turned to the window and raising his voice, called to the occupant inside;
"How are ye feeling then?"
"Thorne. A. February eighteenth, twenty one zero niner. L. T. Four. Four. Two. Niner. J. M. C. Andromeda. Three. Niner. One. Seven."
Rimmer jumped at the sudden burst of sound from the woman. She didn't move at all save for the steady to and fro rocking, and her voice was hoarse and cracked, but there it was, clear as a bell.
"She does that every time I try to talk to her," Lister said, rubbing his cheek. "It goes on for a bit and then it all goes quiet again. I think she's cracked."
Rimmer tilted his head as he watched the woman sway, curling his tongue as he listened to her repeating the same odd sequence over and over.
"Thorne. A. February eighteenth, twenty one zero niner. L. T. Four. Four. Two. Niner. J. M. C. Andromeda. Three. Niner. One. Seven. Thorne. A. February eighteenth, twenty one zero niner. L. T. Four. Four. Two. Niner. J. M. C. Andromeda. Three. Niner. One. Seven. Thorne. A. February-"
"Good God, I know what that is!" he cried suddenly, turning to look at Lister with widened eyes.
"Wha?"
"Listen to her, you baboon brained lump of lard! It's a service number!" The hologram turned to the window again, wrinkling his nose as he listened. "That's a name. And then most likely date of birth. Then her service number and her ship. She's using the code of conduct for prisoners of war…"
Lister arched his brow, staring into the room again at the hunkered form.
"She thinks she's a prisoner?" he mumbled. "Smeg, Rimmer, what have you done?"
"I haven't done anything!" Rimmer shot back, incredulous. "It's standard procedure! Hostage situations, POWs, that sort of thing. Bog standard Space Corps training. Not that it usually amounts to anything. You use your name and identification to hold it together." He paused, listening again, tapping a finger on his temple.
"Thorne. A. February eighteenth, twenty one zero niner. L. T. Four. Four. Two. Niner."
"L. T. That could be…" Scrunching up his face, he shook his head, then turned to Lister once more. "It could be her rank. Try calling her lieutenant. Go on!"
Lister cleared his throat, lifting his chin as he called through to the room once more.
"Lieutenant Thorne? Lieutenant Thorne?"
The chanting of the numbers ceased suddenly, followed by the rocking. Holding their collective breath, the three men watched in silence, before the halo of pale hair raise slowly, parting as it did to reveal a snowy face set with round violet eyes that looked up at the glass in terrified wonder, small, pearlique lips parting just a little as she exhaled.
"Ey, it worked! Well look at that, Rimmer, I guess you're not a total gimp," Lister said with a chuckle, giving the girl a jovial wave. She jerked back at this, unflinching as the back of her head thudded lightly on the wall behind. Rimmer stared at her, face expressionless, an odd sensation washing over him as though someone was filling his mouth with cotton wool.
"You're alright, Lieutenant Thorne," came Lister's voice into his ear fuzzily. "You're on the JMC ship Red Dwarf. We're gonna look after you, ok?"
She remained statuesque, watching them carefully. Rimmer blinked slowly a couple of times, then shook his head, frowning. Silently he turned and strode briskly up the corridor without another word, leaving the others to gape after him in bewilderment.
"Hey, what's his problem?" asked the cat, twitching a thumb under his lapel briefly.
"Beats me," Lister replied, tutting. He looked back into the room, the woman inside still unmoving. "Well, this should be fun. Kryters will be over the moon. He was pretty depressed last night by the time he medicated her…"
Somewhere above them, Rimmer was sliding down the wall to sit on the floor of an abandoned corridor, thinking about how he could have felt better if he'd been hit in the chest by a sledgehammer than he did at that moment. The last woman alive, breathing and tangible, on their ship, right there in front of him, with Lister wafting his hand at her like a jibbering idiot. He wished very much at that moment he was able to emulate her arrival and be violently sick.