Author's Notes: Apologies for the delay! It's been a roller coaster over here in America! Anyhoozles...

Rimmer drummed his fingers on the scanner table in a steady staccato rhythm as his right leg jiggled furiously and refused to sit still for even a few seconds. He glanced around at the others. Cat simply sat and filed his nails while Kryten sat and stared blankly into space. Nothing ever seemed to really bother them. Lucky gits.

At last, those blue hard-light trousers appeared, and her footsteps clomped down into the mid-section. Kochanski entered with some papers tucked under her arm, and Rimmer let out a weary sigh. Clearly, whatever news she had, it wasn't good. She had the serious 'officer' look about her that said she meant business. Still, he reflected, it beat playing the Opera Game again.

"Gentlemen," she said in her crisp 'in-charge' voice. "Thank you all for attending."

"You made us," Rimmer replied.

"Thank you for accepting the situation all the same," she replied, thumbing through her papers. She put a few diagrams down in front of them. Kryten immediately glanced over them while Rimmer pretended to really read them, while Cat continued filing his nails and waited for someone to just explain it to him.

"Oh my," Kryten said in surprise.

"That's understating it, I'm afraid," said Kochanski grimly.

Hearing their tone made Rimmer read the papers a little more closely. Immediately, he saw numbers that definitely shouldn't be the amounts they were next to the words and symbols they lined up with. "How did this happen?" he asked.

"How did what happen?" asked Cat, finally looking up from his filing.

Kochanski took a deep unnecessary breath. "The reserve fuel tank got punctured when we crashed into that ocean moon. If we don't resupply, we're out of power in less than two weeks."

"Damn," sighed Rimmer, his leg jiggling just a little bit harder. "Can we repair it?"

"Yes, but we need more fuel. We can triplicate fuel in barrels but not in liquid form. Never stays still long enough to be cloned, the selfish liquids."

"Then we'll need to scourge the area for a fuel supply," Kryten said. "I'll get to work on searching this sector for any derelicts we can raid."

Kochanski gave him a nod and set to work gathering up the papers while the mech disappeared into the cockpit with the Cat bounding behind him. Rimmer remained where he sat, still going over the readouts. Definitely not good news, and to top it all off, that heaviness in his chest only got worse. He'd been feeling it more frequently since they'd been stuck on Starbug, but he'd brushed it off for now. More important things to do.

"You okay?"

He looked up and saw Kochanski standing over him, looking concerned. "Absolutely tickety-boo," he replied half-convincingly. "Just… need something to do. Need focus. Maybe we should get to work on at least repairing that fuel tank in case Kryten finds anything."

Kochanski nodded in agreement. "Grab a space suit. I'll get the bungee cords and the My Little Pony Welding Kit."

A week passed, and Kryten had very little success in finding a derelict with decent fuel supplies. Throughout that time, Kochanski noticed Rimmer acting just a little bit - for lack of a better word - twitchy. More so than normal. His leg jiggled whenever he wasn't walking, he chewed on his lip and his breathing sounded a touch more labored. He didn't complain, so she tried to ignore it, but after seven days of nothing but bad news, she began to realize what the problem was - stress.

On the eighth day of searching, Kryten finally came down into the mid-section with news. "I'm afraid I've found a ship with adequate fuel supplies," he announced.

Cat's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "You're 'afraid'? What's wrong with it?"

"The fuel is fine, sir, but the ship is not."

Kryten jabbed a few wall-mounted keyboards and punched up the image in question. Right away, they all recognized it. Looking vaguely like a cow skull, the simulant vessel they'd smashed up a couple of weeks ago loomed menacingly before them.

"Oh smeg," groaned Rimmer.

"That's it?" Kochanski asked incredulously. "That's all you've been able to find?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am. I've searched high and low, but there simply aren't any near enough derelicts to properly loot for fuel, and in its current condition, it would be extremely perilous. The scan says the superstructure is highly unstable and could go at any time."

"What if some of the simulants have survived?" asked Rimmer urgently. "They're cybernetically deranged mechanical killing machines. Not content with blasting their ship out of the sky, you now want to go back and steal what remains of their belongings? That's the metaphorical equivalent of flopping your wedding tackle into a lion's mouth and flicking his love spuds with a wet towel. Total insanity."

Kryten nodded. "I agree, sir, it's not a favorable situation, but I still felt it was my duty to report it."

Kochanski got up from her seat and looked at the image. "How long before we can get there?"

"Nearly three days, ma'am."

"And there's absolutely no other ships in the area?"

"None that we could reach on our current fuel supplies, no."

Rimmer got up, apparently already working out where this was headed. "Now wait just a damn minute - !"

"Plot a course, then," she said decisively. "That's where we're going."

"Right away, ma'am," said Kryten before returning to the cockpit.

Kochanski braced herself as Rimmer went into his tirade. "Are you out of your mind?!" he exclaimed. "You expect us to just waltz in there and look for fuel on a ship that's on the verge of total structural collapse?!"

"Have you got any better ideas?!" Kochanski snapped back.

Rimmer opened his mouth for a retort, but he didn't get very far as he suddenly took a pained intake of breath and hunched over, clutching his chest and slumping against the central computer column in agony. He struggled to breathe normally as Kochanski ran to his side to help him stand.

"Rimmer?! What is it? What's wrong?"

Rimmer had difficulty speaking as he tried to steady himself. "I don't… know…," he struggled. "Something… in my… chest…!"

Kochanski yelled back into the cockpit. "Kryten! Get in here!"

Kryten scurried back inside and immediately went to Rimmer's aid. "Remain calm, sir!" he said urgently, helping him into a chair. "Just take long deep breaths and focus on one thing. One thing!"

Kochanski watched anxiously as Rimmer did as Kryten said, staring intently at a wall monitor while taking very deep breaths and trying to calm down. Each breath became deeper and slower as he seemed to finally calm down, but he still looked jittery as he reached normalcy.

"What the hell was that?" demanded the Cat. "It was like a land mine went off in his chest!"

Rimmer managed to get a few words out despite how badly he was shaking. "That's… not a unfair description, actually," he managed.

Kochanski, however, hovered over Rimmer like an anxious mother. "You're okay? You're really okay?" she asked, trying to pull his face around so she could look into his eyes.

"I think so," he gasped, still clutching his chest. "God, it hit me like a ton of bricks."

Kochanski sighed with relief. "Kryten - I'll plot the course. You get him upstairs for a medical."

"Right away, ma'am," Kryten replied, helping Rimmer back up and assisting him up the stairs to the ops room. She watched with growing uncertainty before heading into the cockpit.

The physical took a few hours to complete, during which Rimmer was injected with a sedative powerful enough to calm him down to normal. He laid still on the bench as Kryten finished scanning him one last time. He'd already had the usual tests - hearing, vision, reflexes - and now he'd just finished a full body test. When the little light above him changed to green, he sat up again.

"Well, that's finished the tests sir. We just have to wait while the Navicomp processes the results," Kryten announced, tucking the scanner arm away. "How do you feel?"

"Better now that I can breathe properly," Rimmer replied, feeling the dull ache in his chest. "God, I feel ridiculous. I've had this pain in my chest for months now."

"Why didn't you say?"

"Thought about it, but it never really became a problem until now. It's amazing how difficult it is to breathe when your chest feels like it's trapped in a vice."

A beep from the scanner told them the results were in, so Kryten went over and accepted a small piece of card that was deposited. He looked over it before readdressing Rimmer. "You don't have any next of kin, do you, sir?"

Rimmer frowned. "No, they all died of heart attacks. And not just heart attacks - aneurysms, strokes, brain clots, you name it. I don't think there's a single blood vessel in our entire family that hasn't exploded at some point."

"Are you of the school that, when faced with bad news, prefers to hear that news naked and unvarnished, or are you of the ilk that prefers to live in happy and blissful ignorance of the nightmare you're facing?"

Rimmer stared blankly at him. "Not good news, then?"

Kryten looked sheepish. "I'm afraid not, sir."

The dull pain seemed to return with a fresh load of panic. "I knew it," he said nervously. "It's the headaches, isn't it? And the heart palpitations and the blackouts and the chest pains and the voices! It's something to do with that, isn't it?"

Kryten cleared his throat, clearly about to go into 'exposition mode'. "As a result of both genetics and environment you are particularly prone to stress-related nervous disorders, and your activities over the past couple of years have pushed your brain to, well frankly beyond breaking point."

The pain came back at full force, sending Rimmer across the room in a feeble attempt to cope with this news as he clutched his chest and tried to breathe like he wasn't hearing how horribly he could die.

Kryten soldiered on. "Your blood pressure is higher than a hippy on the third day of an open air festival, and if you wish to avoid a gigantic aneurysm, it is imperative that you start on a program of relaxation."

Rimmer recovered just enough to glare at him. "I see, and you thought that the best way for me to start this program of relaxation was to tell me my brains are about to explode. You've got the bedside manner of an abattoir giblet gutter."

Undeterred, Kryten continued in as calm a voice as he could manage. "Here's what I suggest. Try and avoid all stressful situations. Spend more time painting and take a little exercise." He paused to reach into a nearby cupboard and hand him a pair of brass balls. "Try these Chinese worry balls whenever you feel anxious or tense."

Rimmer took the balls and eyed them suspiciously. He didn't even want to know how they'd come by these on Starbug of all places.

A moment later, they heard a knock at the door, and they looked up to see Kochanski poke her head in. "Well?" she asked. "What's the diagnosis?"

Rimmer held up the balls for her to see. "I have balls."

"Congratulations. I always hoped you would get a pair one day."

Kryten missed the innuendo and explained. "I'm afraid it's Mr Rimmer's blood pressure, ma'am. Between his family's history with stress and the current lifestyle we lead, it was only a matter of time."

Kochanski nodded, leaning against the medi-bench. "So what do we do about it?"

"Unfortunately, we don't have any appropriate medication onboard, so in the meantime, he'll have to attempt a more stress-free life."

"Then I suppose this is a bad time to mention we're en route to the simulant ship."

Rimmer felt that stab in his chest again as he let out a gasp for air and clutched his chest.

Kryten hurried to his side. "Grind those balls, sir! Grind them!"

Rimmer grinded away, trying his best to do that and clutch his chest at the same time. "So let me get this straight. If we board that ship and get captured, we're finished. However if we board that ship and don't get captured, but the superstructure disintegrates around us, we're finished. On the other hand, if we board that ship and don't get captured and the superstructure doesn't disintegrate around us, but we can't find any fuel, we are in fact finished."

Kochanski nodded sheepishly. "Basically."

Kryten's metal face actually blanched. "After you with the balls, sir."

Kochanski knelt before him on the bunk. "Look, Rimmer, I understand if you'd rather stay here," she said gently. "Just lock the doors and do what you need to do to relax, all right? Just be ready to help us make a quick getaway should any of those things you just listed actually happen."

Rimmer looked at her for a long moment before finally managing a nod.

She smiled and patted his knee. "Right then," she said, standing again. "Kryten, help me with monitoring fuel consumption. Thankfully, we have enough to last us quite a while."

"Straight away, ma'am," said Kryten, before briefly readdressing Rimmer. "One last word sir, remember your condition. Whatever happens, try and avoid stressful situations. Whatever befalls you, try and greet it with a smile on your lips and a song in your heart."

Rimmer responded with a two-fingered salute as the others walked away. He held the balls for a bit before heading downstairs and into the engine room. If nothing else, time away from the others would make him feel better.

Two days later, they arrived before the Simulant ship. It hung in the air, all the lights out and missing several pieces of armory, making it look even more frightening. They cruised up as close as they dared.

"I'm detecting life signs," Kryten announced from his station. "Faint, not moving, but still there."

Kochanski got up from her chair. "Okay, bear in mind," she said firmly. "Stick together, work quickly, and above all, be careful. The superstructure is so unstable even a loud noise might cause a ship quake."

"What about weapons?" asked Cat.

"If we bring any, they're for psychological reasons only."

"Damn. And I'm wearing the same suit I was wearing that day, too. This is just embarrassing."

As Cat and Kryten exited the cockpit, Kochanski sidled over to Rimmer, who sat at his station, still clutching the worry balls.

"Okay, you're in charge of the shop while we're gone. We'll be in touch, okay?"

"Don't dilly dally," he replied, trying to sound casual, but anyone could tell he was barely keeping it together.

She patted him on the shoulder and followed the others into the next mid-section. They stepped into the airlock and boarded the ship.

Kryten waved the psi scan around as they tiptoed through the crumbling corridors.

"Anything?" Kochanski whispered.

"A few, but they're fading fast," Kryten replied. "Suggest we hurry along all the same."

"I was already planning that," grunted Cat.

Fallen stanchions and support beams littered the floor, filling it with plenty of things for them to trip over. Wisps of smoke wafted down from the ceiling along with little flakes of dust. Cat grimaced as he dusted off his outfit.

Fortunately, when they found the supplies they needed, they also found a fully functioning teleporter. Once satisfied they could use it, Kochanski got on the radio to Rimmer. "Come in, Starbug," she said as quietly as she could.

"Reading you," Rimmer's voice replied.

"We've found the fuel and a teleporter. We're going to start sending things across. We'll let you know when we've started."

"And I'll in turn let you know if they teleport in a wall or through my torso."

"Thanks muchly!"

Kochanski and Cat lifted the first crate, loaded with the necessary fuel, and shifted it onto the teleporter pad. Kryten pressed a button on the handheld controller and pressed the button. The crate vanished in a flash of orange and purple.

Kochanski put her hand to her ear. "First crate incoming."

Rimmer stood in the hatchway to the mid-section, still cradling the worry balls, but his grip relaxed a little when he saw them safely materialize. "Confirmed," he replied into his wireless headset. "No molecular disturbance. Shall begin refuelling."

"Good," she replied. "We've found a few spare odds and sods, so we'll send those along as well."

Rimmer frowned as he unpacked the first crate. "What've they got other than fuel?"

"Food stocks by the truckload. Kryten says rogue simulants always carry large stocks of food supplies in order to prolong the torment of their torture victims. In some cases, they've kept subjects alive for over forty years in a state of perpetual agony."

"I know what that's like. I remember Lister's attempts at guitar playing." He hooked a hose to the fuel reserve and started siphoning it into the tank.

After a pause, during which two more food crates appeared in the room, she spoke again. "How're you doing, by the way?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Perfectly routine operation. Routine's good for the ol' ticker."

"Good, good. We'll try not to be much longer."

"No need to overload us, you know. Just the bare essentials for us to triplicate later."

"I found a crate of brownie mix."

"Of course, better safe than sorry."

A few minutes passed, and Rimmer felt relief at seeing the fuel siphoning continue successfully. He'd set about triplicating the other fuel tanks so they'd always have spares later. He actually felt pretty good.

Then, his headset filled his ears with a scratchy rumbling noise, and he looked up in alarm. "Kris? What's happened?! Kris?!"

A pause. Then -

"Sorry!" she whispered over the mic. "Handle broke on the last crate. Almost started a ship quake."

"Well, hurry up and get out of there! No sense continuing this if it's that dangerous!"

"Yes, yes, we're coming."

A flash of orange in the corner, and one more crate appeared.

Then, Rimmer heard another rumble from his headset, making him roll his eyes. "What'd you drop this time?"

Kochanski didn't answer, and that made his heart beat a little faster.

"Kris?"

The voice he heard did not sound like Kochanski.

"Well, if it isn't my old friends, the human vermin, the scab of slime, the pus-sucking, puke-laden walking cesspits of unspeakableness."

In the background, he heard Cat exclaim, "She remembers us!"

"Annihilated my ship, slaughtered by fellow simulants, and you practically destroyed me. Yes, I remember you."

It didn't take much for Rimmer to work out what was happening. One of the surviving simulants had found them. He listened in mounting dread as his crewmates spoke to her. He looked around the room. There had to be something.

Then, he saw the bazookoid Cat had left on the scanner table. A whirlwind of fear wooshed through him, and his heart pounded in his ears. Taking a few deep breaths to stop him hyperventilating, he grabbed the bazookoid, slammed his hand into the airlock button and hightailed through the decon chamber and onto the ship.

Cat took a brave step towards the simulant, who levelled her gun at him as he did so.

"There's one thing you should know. Last time we met I was wearing a cute little black number with peach trim and gold spangles, and although it looks like I'm wearing the same outfit today, it is in fact an entirely different cute little black number with completely different gold spangles."

The resulting silence stretched between them all like a great big chasm.

Kryten whispered in the Cat's ear. "That was an important speech sir, and it needed to be made, but might I suggest that from this moment the rest of the discourse is conducted by those with brains larger than a grape."

Cat looked vaguely sheepish before stepping back again. "Take it away, Officer BB."

Kochanski floundered for a moment, but then, she heard Rimmer's voice in her ear. "Kris - keep her talking! I'm coming!" She froze in horror at the thought of Rimmer trying to charge his way into this disintegrating ship to save them in his current condition, but they literally had nothing else to try right now. Summoning up all her debate team skills, she set to work filibustering.

"Okay!" she said brightly, taking them all a bit off-guard. "Yes, I know. You've got grievances. We blew up your ship and killed your crew. True. But - one could claim it was all in self-defense. I mean - you were going to kill us. Hardly seems fair, doesn't it?"

"As is our mission," the simulant replied, never once letting the gun droop. "You would have done well to accept your fate."

Kochanski listened for footsteps, and then wondered if Rimmer would even find them in the maze of corridors. She soldiered on. "Look, you can't use that gun, or else the whole ship is going to collapse. One laser blast will bring the roof down on you, and the vacuum of space isn't a fun place to play 'cops and robbers', so let's just back away from each other, and we'll forget this ever happened."

The simulant smirked, her synthetic skin crinkling. "I am dying," she replied. "I'll see you brought down with me." She loaded the gun and fired a single blast into the ceiling, causing the ship to quake and rubble to fall down before loading it again and aiming at them.

Kochanski caught her balance and looked around frantically. Still no sign of Rimmer. "Okay, that's nice," she fumbled, trying to speak a little louder without actually speaking very loudly at all. "We just need to bring the subject OVER HERE and try to figure out a way where we all come on top."

"There is nothing to discuss. In sixty seconds, you'll be dead."

Kochanski sighed frustratedly and peered past the simulant again. "COME ON, wouldn't it be so much nicer to HURRY UP and talk this out like rational people? I mean, WE ONLY HAVE A SHORT TIME, so we ought to use it diplomatically and discuss how we can GET US OUT OF THIS!"

The simulant didn't seem to find it odd that she kept occasionally shouting at odd moments while she spoke. "I'm afraid there is no time left for any of that," she said, levelling the gun straight at her.

Kochanski finally lost patience in her last moments. "GET ON WITH IT, SMEGHEAD!" she bellowed into the ship, fully aware that Cat and Kryten must think she had lost her mind.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps reverberated through the ship, and running in, sweating and out of breath, came Rimmer, lugging the heavy bazookoid and looking slightly worse for wear. He just barely had enough time to fire at the simulant before she'd finished turning around and firing at him, but thankfully, he collapsed from exhaustion, so the shot missed. He still managed to fire one more shot while she reloaded, grazing her shoulder, and causing her to fire into the ceiling again. More sections of the ceiling came crashing down on her, finishing her off.

The others ran over to Rimmer, who slumped on the floor, panting heavily.

"Mr Rimmer, sir!" Kryten wailed, immediately trying to help him up. "Are you okay, sir?"

Rimmer struggled to breath, but he managed to nod. "Sorry," he gasped. "Got lost."

But the ship continued to shake, and more rubble began to fall around them.

"Ship quake!" Kochanski shouted. "We need to get out of here!"

"The teleporter!" Cat suggested.

They finished helping Rimmer up, and they all staggered over to the teleporter pad.

"I must warn you sir, the teleporter's not calibrated for human tissue. There's a twenty percent chance you'll be turned inside out when you materialise."

Cat thought about that. "Let me check my lining," he said, pausing to look down his sleeve. "Innards and lavender, I can carry that off!"

After a dazed nod from Rimmer, Kryten activated the teleporter, and the world turned orange and purple for a moment before they found themselves back in the mid-section - except they found themselves already there, seated around the scanner table and very surprised to see them.

"What's this?" asked Cat.

"Don't you remember, sir? This is a week last Thursday. In the panic, I must have made a programming error."

The past Kryten stood, utterly indignant. "For goodness sake, Kryten! Don't you know how rude it is to burst in on an earlier version of yourself without warning? You've made our day totally surreal now. I'm very cross!"

"Pardon my paradox. It's just that the simulant ship you're about to encounter - "

"We don't know what we're about to encounter! Don't compound your temporal faux-pas by telling us our future!"

The past Rimmer noted the present one's condition, as he still slumped in Cat and Kochanski's arms with the bazookoid dangling from his shoulder. "What's happened to him?"

The present Rimmer nearly had his breath back. "Oh, y'know how it is," he panted. "These guys can't get anything done without me."

"God, you're going to be a right pain now, aren't you?" Kochanski sighed.

"As if he wasn't before?" asked past Kochanski dryly.

"Don't talk to them!" scolded past Kryten before glaring at the present crew. "You see what you've done now! Just get back to your own damn time line!"

Kochanski waved sheepishly. "See ya."

"Be ya," her past self replied.

The world turned orange and purple again, and now they found themselves in Starbug's mid-section full of packing crates from the ship.

"This is our stop!" said Kochanski. "Let's get out of the landing bay!"

Cat and Kryten scurried to the cockpit while Kochanski helped Rimmer to a nearby chair. He waved her off once seated, and she ran back to help the others. They just barely got away before the simulant ship blew up for the second time that month, much more spectacularly this time.

Kochanski slumped in her chair. "I think I've had enough nick-of-timing for one lifetime, thank you," she sighed.

"I'll say," agreed Cat. "We're clear of the blast zone. I'm gonna transfer to auto so I can shower away these reservoirs I've sprouted under my arms." He pressed a few buttons before exiting into the next room.

Kochanski slouched back into the mid-section where she found Rimmer at the scanner table, clutching his worry balls again.

"Mind if I have a go when you're done?" she asked.

Rimmer smiled ruefully. "We just barely got out of that in one piece."

Kochanski nodded, and then she smiled impishly.

"Oh god, what now?" he groaned tiredly.

"You came charging in with that bazookoid like Bruce Willis in Die Hard," she giggled.

Rimmer stared at her for a long moment, and then, a small smirk spread. "Pretty damn heroic, then?"

She patted his wrist. "But with better hair than Bruce."

He leaned back in his chair, his grip on the worry balls loosening slightly. "Yeah, well, y'know how it is, luv," he said in a voice that sounded almost slightly like Ace. "When the chips are down, old 'Iron Balls' Rimmer comes though in the clutch."

She nodded faintly. "Your zip was down."

The smugness turned to panic as his hands flew to his zip, only to find it completely zipped up, and he rolled his eyes as she giggled again. Still, she patted his arm and got up. "I'll put the kettle on," she said. "And then, we're going to find a nice quiet planet where we can all relax."

"Sounds like a plan," murmured Rimmer. "We'll cut back on the sugar, the stress and the brushes with death for a while, eh?"

She nodded in agreement as she headed into the galley.

Author's Notes: I have a very good reason for giving Rimmer this heroic moment right before "Out of Time", which you shall see next week! But yes, I couldn't very well put human!Rimmer on a planet for six hundred years, and frankly, Kochanski would never wind up in that situation in the first place. So I think this proved to be the more logical ending.

Next week: Out of Time