Kryten fired up the triplicator in the galley and set about making copies of all the ingredients needed for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, batter - they all went into the replicating beams and made extra copies. This would take care of breakfast not only for today, but for the next few days as well. He tidied away his mess before loading up the plates and taking them out to the mid-section.
Rimmer, Cat and Kochanski sat around the scanner table as he put the plates out, all chattering away about whatever inane topic they'd picked out today. Days and nights dragged on like snails in rubber cement, so they needed whatever discussions they could muster to get through the long lonely hours. Kryten barely listened as they whittled on.
"You're insane," Kochanski giggled.
"It's perfectly true," Rimmer replied as he took his toast and tea.
"No, she's right, bud," Cat said as he took his milk and roast mouse. "You've flipped."
"Would it harm you to have hair like mine?"
"I have got hair like yours. Just not on my head."
Kryten shook his head and continued to tidy up around them.
"Well I'm no stranger to the land of scoff. Perhaps you'd like to explain to me why it is that every major battle in history has been won by the side with the shortest haircuts?"
Cat frowned. "Have they?"
"Think about it, why did the US Cavalry beat the Indian Nation? Short back and sides versus girly hippy locks. The cavaliers and the roundheads: one-nil to the pudding basins. Vietnam, crew cuts both sides: no score draw."
Kryten muttered to himself. "Oh, for a really world class psychiatrist."
Kochanski rolled her eyes and started in on her scrambled eggs with waffles. Kryten noted that she'd done her best to behave herself since they'd gotten the triplicator fixed and she'd had her upgrade to hard-light, but now, after only a few weeks, she rarely spent any time in her soft-light form, enjoying being able to press buttons and hold up her own books. In the long run, it really didn't affect things much. It took up a lot of power, but not really that much more than the old software did. Psychologically speaking, it seemed good for her to be three dimensional again.
She'd tried to resist eating on the grounds that they needed to preserve supplies in case the triplicator ever packed in, but Kryten knew the device to be in excellent working order thanks to Legion's modifications, so she began snacking more frequently. Kryten sometimes caught her in the middle of the night triplicating cottage cheese for herself, but he pretended not to see. He secretly enjoyed having a third person to cook and clean for, so he didn't see the logic in embarrassing her.
At last, breakfast over, they made their way back into the cockpit to continue the discussion. Rimmer pontificated that the short-haired Napoleon only lost at Waterloo after marching for one hundred days and not having time for a trim. Kochanski politely asked him to change the subject by telling him to cram it.
Mercifully, the Cat announced that he could smell something coming. It took a while to turn up, but when it did, it came in the form of a massive power surge from a decloaking craft materializing just a smidge too close. The resulting energy wave tossed them around, but thankfully, no one lost their breakfast, so Kryten didn't feel too badly about it.
Rimmer checked his screens. "My god, that's a Space Corp external enforcement vehicle."
"A what?" Cat asked.
"Space narks," Kochanski clarified.
"A computer controlled enforcement probe," added Kryten.
The probe transmitted a message to them that rang out through the cockpit speakers. In cinematic surround sound, they heard, "Property corp space removing, and equipment corp space damaging, ships corp space of series a looting with charged formerly are you."
They all stared at each other blankly. Kryten deduced the materialization must have scrambled it's voice unit, and Rimmer figured out it had simply been reversed. Replaying the message properly in his mind, Kryten explained that it had charged them with looting Space Corps derelicts, something they could be executed for due to frontier law. He offered to take the rap for everyone, saying he'd forced them at gunpoint to do his evil bidding, but the others objected, with Cat in particular reminding him that he still had clothes that needed ironing.
So with no options - seeing as how they were guilty as hell - they set about plotting an escape route. The only place to run to was the nearby GELF Zone. Despite the fairly reasonable argument that they wouldn't be any safer there, they eventually agreed that probable death at the hands of the GELFs sounded better than certain death at the hands of the Space Probe.
As Cat gripped the controls, Starbug peeled away from the Space Probe.
"GELF Zone six clicks and closing!" Rimmer announced.
"Weapon lock registered. Pulse missile launched," Kryten warned them.
"Impact in ten seconds!" said Kochanski.
"Oh, that's it," said the Cat. "We're platform shoes, man."
"Firing flares," said Rimmer.
"Brace for impact!" said Kryten.
Cat twisted the joystick, and the ship rocked in response. They saw the laser bolt zoom past them and disappear into the distance.
"Missed us?!" Rimmer yelled, more incredulous than anything.
"Warning shot across the bows," replied Kochanski.
"Won't be so fortunate next time," agreed Kryten.
Rimmer cursed and looked at his screen. "Four clicks to the GELF Zone," he announced.
"Incoming pulse fire!" announced Kochanski.
"Decoys launched!"
"Not enough! Six seconds to impact!"
Cat began twisting the joystick in an attempt to shake them off. All he really succeeded in was shaking everyone back and forth in their seats for a few seconds. They watched as a few more laser blasts went whizzing past them into the endless night.
Kochanski looked at her screen, looking very frazzled. "We… lost it?" she asked, sounding confused.
An enormous explosion ripped its way up the midsection and blasted a cloud of smoke and debris into the cockpit. The room went dark for a moment before the lights came back on and they all recovered.
"Sorry. Wrong panel," she said shakily.
The cockpit filled with smoke as more and more components went wrong. Sparks and flames erupted around them with Rimmer trying to put them out with air canisters. Cat attempted to keep up with the damage report as it gave him one thing after another, but then it overloaded and exploded. Suffice to say, not good.
Kryten detected another lock-on, meaning the probe intended to finish them off. However, they'd lost three fuel tanks, so it probably wouldn't make much difference anyway. Then, the Cat detected something ahead of them, and they saw a GELF icon carved into an asteroid just ahead, nearly a mile across with barely enough time for them to go around it. Fortunately, Kochanski had the idea they fly into the eye socket, so when the probe fired its shot at them, it hit the asteroid instead, and it exploded around them, allowing them to continue on.
The fires got worse - somehow they had fifty-three?! - and they had no way to put them out as the sprinklers had packed in. Thankfully, between Kochanski's skillful navigation and the Cat's awesome-sauce piloting, they managed to bring their ship in for a landing in the middle of one of the oceans, putting out the fire.
Of course, that left the small matter of them being flooded, but hey ho, nobody's perfect.
Rimmer brought up the last of the crates, exhausted. They'd lost a lot, but thankfully, they had auto-repair that could fix most of the damaged systems. He set the crate down on top of the pile that Cat and Kryten had been working on, all clearly exhausted.
"Look at it," he groused. "All our possessions, all our valuables. Between fire, flood and impact damage, we've lost damn near everything." He'd lost a great deal of his art supplies, and a few paintings, too. Thankfully, the camphor wood trunk had been in a safe place, and all he'd kept inside remained intact as well. If he'd lost Rachel, life just wouldn't be worth living.
He headed into the cockpit and checked the auto-repair. Seemed as though everything would pull through in the end, but he couldn't help but note the red hot error message blinking at him. The oxy-generation unit had packed in so utterly and completely, it couldn't be fixed. Lack of oxygen felt even less appealing than playing the Opera Game with Kochanski again, so he immediately returned to the mid-section.
Upon returning, he found Kochanski entering from the engine room in a pair of waders. "Okay, the pumps are pumping," she announced, shaking the water off her boots. "In a few hours, we should be high and dry."
Rimmer cleared his throat, ready to give the bad news. "Dry, maybe, but we're not flying anywhere until the oxy-generation unit is fixed. It's blackened to a barbecued brisket, and auto-repair can't repair it."
Cat grumbled, slumping against the stack of crates. "Oh, great!" he complained. "So we can take off, but we can't breathe?! Breathing's one of the few things I'm willing to do around here!"
Rimmer noted the look on Kochanski's face and saw the cogs turning in her head. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking GELFs tend to have old equipment they acquire from over the centuries," she replied. "What's the reckoning they have an old o/g unit lying around?"
Kryten pondered. "Depending on the breed of GELF in the area, ma'am, I'd say it's a possibility."
Rimmer felt a stab of dread and held up a finger in the hopes of stopping that train of thought. "Now wait just a minute," he started.
"What's the alternative? Set up camp in the GELF ocean and just hope they don't come out here and find us, take us prisoners and make tea cozies out of us?"
Cat shrugged, looking around the remains of the mid-section. "I dunno, put up some shelves, a little wallpaper…"
But Kryten shook his head. "I'm afraid it appears to be our only option, sirs," he said. "At least if we present ourselves as traders, we can possibly get our foot in the door, as opposed to the tea cozy option."
Rimmer shook his head in frustration but eventually relented. "Okay, fine," he said. "Let's find something to carry some random crap in and see if we can't barter our way to breathing recycled air again."
Within thirty minutes, they had a wooden crate packed up with some of their still-decent-looking-but-not-mega-valuable valuables and boarded the inflatable raft. They motored for shore with a feeling of dread.
Kochanski hacked her way through the dense foliage of the GELF moon. She wielded her machete, briefly wondering if this counted in any way as gardening, listening to the rather loud crickets. She wondered if they were indigenous to the moon's ecosystem, or maybe they'd descended from Earth crickets that the GELFs had brought from home for some odd reason. She also heard the crunching footsteps behind her as Cat and Rimmer lugged the case between them while Kryten scanned the area for life signs with the psi scan.
Signs of life made themselves known by firing an arrow right into the case, making them all jump out of their shoes. They all stopped while Kryten removed it and began to examine it, but Cat snatched it away.
"It could tell us a whole heck of a lot about what we're dealing with here!" he said. He looked down the length of it, then sniffed up and down the shaft to the head.
"Well?" asked Kochanski impatiently.
"Yep! This came from a bow, all right!" He smiled sheepishly as he handed it back to Kryten. "I was expecting to get a lot more than that."
Kryten resumed examining it. "Hmmm, as we anticipated, they are the Kinitawowi. Good. I have studied the dialect, they are one of the friendlier Kinteteacch, or tribes."
"We can tell," muttered Rimmer, indicating the arrow.
"No sir, it is a great hcanau or honour to be greeted in this manner. They would have killed us the instant we landed if they had taken exception to us. That's a very good sign."
Kochanski rolled her eyes. "Yes, wonderful. I had a very similar relationship with my brother."
"Indeed, we are indeed hcan hcasset or blessed."
Rimmer wiped something off his waistcoat. "Aim away from us when you speak GELF," he ordered.
"Yeah, robo phlegm stains something awful," agreed Cat.
They grabbed the case and continued into the night.
They crossed a small bridge on the edge of a village of small mud and thatch huts, lit with many torches. As they entered, a number of figures wearing long dark robes with the hoods drawn over their faces stepped out and encircled them.
"A particularly hostile band of trick-or-treaters," murmured Kochanski.
"Let's just hope they're not collecting for Unicef," Rimmer muttered back.
Kryten stepped to the front of the group, already going into GELF speak mode. "Kinitawowi - nhich nhichce histan kanoa nakoo bacoo."
One of the hooded figures broke from the circle before removing his hood, revealing himself to resemble a sort of sasquatch figure with a long red beard and pierced nipples. "Nuyer neeal deg dayer," he replied.
Kochanski motioned for the others to set the case down and bent to prop it open. She heard a few grunts of approval directed at her and did her best not to glare. Men, she thought bitterly. She turned so her backside faced away from them and gestured to the contents of the case, which Kryten then proceeded to take out and offer to the GELF leader. The mech handed him a watch, some natty jeans, an old baseball cap and a cigar, plus Kochanski's old piccolo from her brief foray into classical music that the GELF leader promptly stuck up his nose.
Once certain their host was happy, Kryten expressed their need for an oxy-generation unit, so they were led into the chief's hut. They got as comfortable as they could on the thoroughly uncomfortable seats, looking across the fire which only made things even more uncomfortable.
"Nice digs," muttered Kochanski. "I swear this chair is made from straw and cow dung."
They noticed a small creature in the GELF leader's arm, with slimy brown skin that a less observant fool would've dismissed as a rather ugly hand puppet.
"What is that thing?" Cat hissed.
"It's an Emohawk, sir," Kryten explained. "A Polymorph that's spayed at birth and half-domesticated. It's trained to change shape at its owner's behest, and like all polymorphs, it steals emotions. Emotions are a highly valued trading commodity."
Indeed, the creature changed to a bunny, then to a lamp, and then back again for no apparent reason other than to show off for its audience.
A GELF entered, carrying a silver box that read 'O/G' on the side, held by a convenient plastic black handle.
"It looks like they're ready to fix a price," said Kryten.
Rimmer frowned. "I thought we'd already fixed a price with all the bangles and baubles we'd given them."
"Oh, no, sir, that was just for the honor of entering their watunga, or hut. The bartering proper begins now."
The GELF Leader promptly pointed at Rimmer. "Rec raht wig dig ana tut pata."
"Oh dear," said Kryten in a very flat tone.
Rimmer squirmed in his seat. "Please tell me he wants me to paint him a family portrait or something."
"I'm afraid not, sir. He says in exchange for the oxygeneration unit he wants you to be his daughter's mate."
Rimmer stared at Kryten in horror, and then looked at the three GELFs in the room behind the leader. "It's probably not a good sign for this relationship if I can't tell which one's his daughter."
"It's the one in the middle, sir," Kryten explained, indicating the middle GELF as subtly as he could. "And apparently, she's the looker."
The GELF in question towered over the others, her face covered in thick matted hair, but anyone could see the longing in her eyes as she looked Rimmer up and down.
Rimmer, naturally, nearly blew chunks. "I don't suppose she'd be interested in a slightly used tea kettle? Only four careful owners!"
The GELF leader spoke in a firm voice. "Ana beg ewitah og iy con nich kawal bah."
Kryten shook his head. "He says 'no wedding, no o/g unit'."
The group of GELFs got up to leave, the leader making one last statement before departing. "Panta anag ew, panta wa ah."
Once they were alone, Kryten clarified. "He's giving us five hanaka to decide."
"How long's a hanaka?" asked Kochanski.
"Curiously enough, it's exactly the same as one Earth minute."
Cat looked alarmed. "Five hanaka? That only gives us twenty-eight hours!"
Ignoring him, Rimmer got down from his seat to pace frantically. "They're serious about this?! I mean, they're properly totally one hundred percent serious about this?!"
"I'm afraid so, sir, and they are a proud people and will not change their mind."
"But why me?! You're telling me she wouldn't want to settle down with a cat?!"
Cat pointed a warning finger. "Hey, don't drop me in your martial hell, buddy! I got a specific type, and it does not include 'huge-ass hairy sasquatch woman'!"
"It's because you're human, sir," Kryten explained. "They need a compatible male to aid reproduction, and human genes would fit better, quite frankly."
"I don't think my genes come in their size," Rimmer snapped bitterly.
Kochanski stood up, finally having thought of something to say. "Look, I know this is asking a lot," she said in her 'reasoning' voice, "but we need to at least go along with this for now. Maybe try out the marriage thing for a couple of days, then maybe we can get a GELF justice to annul it later."
Cat, however, raised his hand coolly. "The plan is obvious," he said. "We do the trade, you go through with the wedding, then tonight, when everybody's asleep, we'll come back and rescue you. What do you say?" he asked, flashing his pearly white fangs winningly.
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Rimmer objected.
"Really?" asked Kochanski. "Because it sounds kind of perfect."
"It's our only chance of getting off this moon, sir," agreed Kryten.
Rimmer looked between the three faces that surrounded him with barely disguised contempt before slouching in defeat. "Fine," he said at last. "God…"
Kochanski patted him on the shoulder. "It could be much worse. Your family could be here."
Rimmer nodded distantly. "True…" At last, he squared his shoulders and stood straight. "Right. Let's do this."
They all nodded and headed for the door, then stopped when they realized Rimmer hadn't moved with them and actually stood frozen in place.
"Sir?"
"… I appear to be momentarily paralyzed. If you'd all be so kind…?"
They sighed together as they gently guided him awkwardly out of the hut.
Within thirty minutes, the wedding began.
As the GELF leader conducted the ceremony, Rimmer fidgeted under his flower crown and hoped against hope he could hold himself together. Kryten stood to the side, whispering in his ear what was happening around him. He stole a glance at the bride, who towered over him with her flower crown and bouquet of flowers in her big meaty hands.
"Ana dok kaz, ana dok wah, hea," the leader recited.
After an encouraging nod from Kryten, Rimmer forced a sickly smile and said, "I do."
"Ana zun keh," the leader continued, clinching his arms across his mighty chest to signify love or some crap. "Zun keh atta."
"You may kiss the bride, sir," Kryten translated.
Rimmer sneered at him. "Oh, may I?" Then, he took a deep breath, summoned whatever courage he could and allowed himself to be smothered in a great big smelly kiss from his new wife. He stumbled back once released, right into a cascade of flower petals Kryten tossed over them. "Halitosis," he mumbled in a daze.
Then, the GELF bride tossed her bouquet through the air, right into Kochanski's startled arms. She caught sight of another GELF winking at her before shoving the flowers into Cat's hands and hiding behind him. This did little to raise his spirits, however, as his bride lifted him up over his shoulder and proceeded to carry him away to her hut in the distance. He waved awkwardly back to the others as they departed, trying to play the part of the contented groom. To his relief, he caught sight of Kryten receiving the o/g unit before he lost sight of them.
Bracing himself, he almost cried out as the GELF carried him into the hut and flopped him down onto a lumpy surface. Not quite a mattress, but something very like one. He barely had time to take in the room before the GELF dropped down in front of him and crawled seductively up alongside him. Rimmer gripped the blanket with a nervous smile.
"Well, gosh-a-roonie!" he squeaked. "What a lovely night it's been, dreamboat! Gosh, whatever shall we do? How about a nice long chat whereupon we fall asleep several feet away from each other?"
The GELF began stroking his face. "Nee bonnen nic parnin," she said.
Rimmer forced his smile. "Erm, not right now," he said, his voice rising all the time. "How about a book? Television? Game of chess? Oooh - charades!"
But she simply booped his nose with her huge finger and leaned in closer.
Rimmer could tell he couldn't talk her out of it, even if she could understand what he said. She'd been looking forward to this for a long time. Clearly, she hadn't gotten any in a long time, if at all. It'd be tragic if she weren't so utterly disgusting.
Looking around for something to get him out of this, he spotted some bottles sitting in a corner and looked back at her. "How about a drink first?" he suggested, miming drinking. "You fancy that? A nice drink to calm you down?"
She seemed to get the message and immediately got up and crossed to the bottle nearby. Rimmer got up as well, wiping off all the fur she had shed on him. She got two glasses and proceeded to pour a substance that looked a bit like water, but when he took his glass and gave it a sniff, right away he could tell it'd burn his nose hairs off.
"Good lord," he coughed. "A bottle of this stuff would get the entire Greek Navy drunk."
She held up her glass, and he touched his to hers in a toast before she threw her head back and gulped it down. Rimmer discreetly threw it over his shoulder and mimed doing the same, aware he'd probably just gotten that strange plant in the corner drunk, but dammit, he needed a clear head.
It wasn't difficult convincing her to keep drinking, he found. Nor was it difficult to fool her into thinking he'd gotten just as drunk as her. By the fifth glass, she seemed to be talking to him in her thick GELF dialect, probably talking about her miserable childhood and how nobody understood her and how she wanted to start an alternative rock band to express her rage. He had no idea, but he simply pretended that's what she was saying so he'd have something to nod his head sympathetically to.
By the end of the first bottle, she'd gone into a drunken rage, during which he hid in the corner behind the semi-drunk plant. He didn't even need to pretend to drink anymore. She was so blotto at this point, she didn't seem all that aware of him. He made an attempt to escape through the door, but she threw a boulder at him, forcing him to resume hiding.
Halfway through the second bottle, she lay flat on the floor in the middle of the hut, panting heavily and sounding very sleepy. He didn't dare move for fear she might remember what she'd married him for, and the last thing he needed was a one-night stand with a drunken GELF. He'd never live with the shame.
He stayed behind that potted plant for several hours, during which his bride finally began to snore. He slumped and got comfortable, taking a moment to check his watch, when he heard a rustling at the window by the drinks cabinet. He felt immense relief when he saw Kryten poke his head through. The angular pink head turned and saw him before gesturing for Rimmer to join him.
Rimmer got out from behind the plant and tiptoed over the window, easing his way through. Kochanski and Cat helped him squeeze through and settle into the grass.
"Never thought I'd be this pleased to see you lot," he whispered.
"Apologies for the delay, sir," Kryten replied. "It took a long time for everyone to finally pass out blind drunk."
"You're okay, though?" Kochanski asked urgently. "You two didn't… y'know…"
"Do the horizontal tango? No, I managed to make her go the blind drunk path as well."
"Well, I say let's get out of here," hissed the Cat, grabbing his bazookoid. "We got a long way to go."
They all eased their way through the overgrowth around the perimeter of the village, making sure to keep low in case of snipers. Thankfully, they managed to make it through the tall grass and vines with minimal trouble, and soon, they found themselves on the edge of the town, crossing the bridge to safety.
Then, somewhere in the distance, they heard the drunken howl of a heartbroken female GELF. Realizing the jig was truly up, they fled frantically into the woods, listening to the furious GELF-speak behind them.
"What the hell are they saying?!" Rimmer hissed.
"Hard to tell from this distance, sir," Kryten replied, "but the bits I could make out were, 'He's left me on my wedding night' and 'Men! They're all bastards!'"
Kochanski shrugged. "Guess we couldn't have expected better than that!"
They ran for a good ten minutes before they had to stop for breath. They leaned against a big tree and wheezed pathetically for a while. Rimmer had to admit, after those several terrifying hours in the honeymoon suite, he felt extremely relieved to be single again. Amazing how a toxic relationship could make you appreciate freedom.
"Wait! Something's coming!" Cat said, already standing up straight, alert.
Then, they heard a fluttering noise above them, and they all looked up.
"It's the Emohawk!" Kryten shrieked.
The flapping got louder as something swooped over them, making them all duck and cover their heads in fear.
"Where is it?! Where'd it go?" Kochanski shouted.
"It must have transmuted into something else!" said Kryten. "Suggest we proceed with extreme caution!"
"Good suggestion!" Rimmer snapped back sarcastically.
They edged slowly forward, Cat holding his bazookoid and aiming at pretty much everything. He sniffed the air cautiously.
"Smell anything?" Kochanski asked.
"It's somewhere close," the feline replied. "I can smell it."
"Let's form a tight circle then, with everyone facing outwards. Pick nothing up. If you drop something on the ground, it stays on the ground. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," all three said.
Interlocking arms and standing back-to-back, Cat led them back to the raft, with Kryten to the west, Kochanski to the east, and Rimmer bringing up the rear. They walked like that for almost a mile, looking this way and that, but never seeing anything out of the ordinary.
Cat shook his head as the raft came into view. "I swear I can still smell it," he whispered. "It's following us somehow."
"As long as it doesn't nab our emotions, we're fine," said Rimmer.
"Well, actually, sir," said Kryten, earning himself a few annoyed groans, "one thing that makes an Emohawk different from a regular Polymorph is that it doesn't just take negative emotions. It can take personality traits as well. So it doesn't even necessarily have to provoke an emotion. It simply has to get its sucker on your forehead."
"Well, that would've been helpful to know when we first saw the damn thing!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't expect us to actually be attacked by the damn thing!"
"Okay, both of you, settle down!" Kochanski snapped. "Arguing is not going to get us where we need to go, and where we need to go is forward towards that rubber raft! Now let's go!"
They attempted to resume moving forward, but then, Cat came to a halt, and they all crashed into him.
"Oh, what the bloody hell is it now?!" Kochanski shouted at him.
"Way to move forward, Kris," Rimmer grunted.
Cat, however, pointed slightly to his left. "Where exactly did we park the raft?" he asked.
They all looked around him, first at the raft they'd already been moving towards, and then at an almost identical raft some fifty yards away up the beach.
"Thought this was going too well," sighed Rimmer.
Suddenly, the raft in front of them collapsed in on itself and surged forward with a sickening squelch. With a group yelp, all four of them fell away, with the Cat just barely avoiding the sucker as it zoomed past his ear. He fell down, rolled onto his back and fired relentlessly at the Emohawk, which screeched in pain before it collapsed twitching on the ground.
"Nice shootin', Tex," said Kochanski.
"Yes, marvelous," Rimmer gasped shakily. "Now let's get out of here before my in-laws find out we killed their pet mutant."
They hightailed it up the coast to the other raft, which thankfully still had the waiting oxy-generation unit onboard, and motored their way back to Starbug.
Author's Notes: Yes, maybe a little anti-climactic, but it felt like the logical conclusion. You think human!Rimmer would survive jumping on a grenade? Also, the Ace and Duane part of this episode just felt really weak to me, like trying to cram all that fan wank into less than ten minutes. So I have no qualms with cutting it!
Next week: Rimmerword (not really but elements from the episode will be used, kinda, sorta, maybe)