Author's Notes: So this is another chapter I cobbled together from a rewritten fan-script of this episode. In that version, I was trying to see if the story would work with just Lister, Cat and Kryten - with Rimmer being said to be off doing something else - but I was able to rework it for this AU.

The day started so normally. They did the usual checks for any trace of Red Dwarf, found nothing as usual, then tried to get through the day without attracting the attention of any wandering space weirdos. Cheese Slice Snap didn't entertain like it normally did, not even when Kochanski put the winning cheese on her forehead. They really needed new entertainment. Without their mothership to supply them with an endless stream of music, film and telly, now they had to make do with an endless repeat of Doug McClure's greatest hits, and there were only so many times you could watch At the Earth's Core before they just wished Peter Cushing would spear the bastard.

Fortunately, Cat sounded the alarm on something in the cockpit that brought them all running. Even if he just wanted to moan about the rapidly-dwindling hair gel supplies, it would be a break from boredom.

"What is it?" Rimmer asked, thudding down in his seat.

"Some sort of smell, bud," Cat explained, peering fervently out the viewscreen. "It just came out of nowhere. It's got my nostril hairs shimmying like a pole dancer with an ice cube down her g-string."

"Cat – those nose jokes are so last year," sighed Kochanski, already switching on her navigation screens.

Kryten punched up a graphic on the science console, and his eyes widened in alarm. "Extraordinary! There appears to be some kind of craft drifting about sixty clicks below us!"

"Confirmed," said Rimmer, going over the readouts before him. "SSS Centauri. Looks derelict."

"So why'd I only smell it a few minutes ago?" Cat asked.

"Possibly the electrics are failing, sir. It could very well have simply uncloaked. Presumably, the previous owners intended to hide it from looters."

"Then it's probably worth taking a look," Kochanski decided. "Landing bay is located. Let's take her in nice and easy."

Within the hour, they'd successfully docked with the other ship and made their way onboard. Armed with torches and the Psi-Scan, they tiptoed their way in. Kryten managed to get some details from the ident computer. The ship came from the twenty-sixth century and had seen some upgrades, but he couldn't get any details about the crew or its original mission.

At last, they found a storage room lined with lots of little doors coated in a thin layer of dust.

"Stasis booths!" announced Kryten. "Small ones, but they're operational."

Cat frowned. "Was the ship crewed by little people?"

"Probably used for storage," said Kochanski. "Try and see what's in them, Krytie."

The mech nodded and pressed a few keys on a wall-mounted console by one of the smaller booths. After scanning the data, he nodded in confirmation. "Contents are non-human in this one, ma'am. Organic. Presumably they used this one for food storage."

"Any chance of cracking the code?" asked Rimmer.

Kryten proceeded to do just that. He typed away at the keypad, and the door slowly opened.

"How'd you do that so fast?" asked Cat in amazement.

"Just a matter of seeing which buttons were the most worn, sir. You can tell the codes from how scuffed and scratched they are."

"Handy in these situations, certainly," nodded Rimmer, "but it means we can't play Poker with you."

Kochanski hauled the door open. For a moment, she couldn't see anything, but when she looked down… "Lobster!" she exclaimed.

Kryten peered over her shoulder and beamed. "Indeed, ma'am! At least four fresh-water lobsters!"

"Sea life? Fish with pinchers?" Cat asked eagerly.

"Perfectly fresh, sir! We may be able to have a decent supper tonight!"

Rimmer looked over them approvingly. "It'll make a nice change from fried space weevil and roast-suckling mouse."

Kryten managed to crack the codes on the keypads for the next few booths and found more food supplies for them to swipe. He came across another and detected mechanical parts inside. He managed to open one and found a slightly dilapidated droid hand.

"Doesn't seem to be in very good condition. Whatever poor droid was lumbered with this hand most likely had difficulty in picking his nose."

They found a cache of AR games stored in the corner. They consisted mainly of 'edutainment' games – English, Maths, Astronomy, Chemistry, etc. Kochanski practically jumped for joy when she found The Jane Austen Adventures – Remastered Edition in the Literature collection.

"It's exactly the same as the one you have now," Rimmer pointed out.

"But with enhanced graphics, redubbed dialogue and a hidden mini-quest involving apple picking!"

"Be still, my heart."

Cat took the game box and looked at the back, his eyes widening. "Are the girls part of the game, too?"

Rimmer peered over his shoulder at the smiling sisters and smiled back at them. "I think it's time we broadened our horizons."

Kochanski rolled her eyes and took the game back. "Glad to see you're onboard."

Unseen by them, Kryten had set the old droid hand on the table and gone to check on one of the other booths close to it. He typed in the key code, only to receive a super-powerful electric shock that made him spasm and shake for a few seconds before his eyes fired out of his head and clattered on the floor fifteen feet away.

"You okay, Kryten?" asked Kochanski, already running over.

"I just had three hundred and fifty volts flash through my entire body, sir. It may have just invalidated my Diva Droid Service Guarantee."

Cat managed to find his eyes, and after a moment, they managed to plug them back in.

"Apologies, sirs, ma'am. I appear to be in working order. Shall we continue exploring the ship?

"Not for long," Rimmer replied, looking around. "Something about this place makes me uncomfortable."

"I hear that," agreed Cat. "I feel like Vincent Price is going to step out to compare teeth with me."

They loaded up all the supplies they needed and disembarked from the Centauri. They loaded their freshly-gotten food stocks into vacuum storage, and Kryten soon had the lobster dinner cooking.

Over the next hour or so, however, Kryten couldn't help but notice a small change in his thoughts. Almost like a switch had been thrown, he dwelled a little on the frustrations of life. He tutted more than he should have when the oven door stuck. He shook his head disbelievingly when the pot boiled over briefly. He reacted rather strongly when the egg timer went missing, calling it a 'buggering flibberty-jibbet' when he finally found it behind the salt and pepper shakers. Most peculiar.

Still, he managed to reign it in when the others passed through the galley later on. They spoke about the supply situation before Kochanski finally wanted to take them into the Jane Austen game. She practically bounced like a kid on Christmas who wanted to skip hospital visiting to play with her new toys.

Cat couldn't wait either. "I can't wait! Five sisters – all hotter than a Mustang's exhaust!"

"You want to come, Kryten?" asked Kochanski.

"I'll stay with the crustacean, ma'am," Kryten said politely. "Enjoy the game."

Beaming cheerfully, Kochanski led the others to the AR Suite, leaving Kryten to resume cooking duties. Normally, he enjoyed this type of work more than anything. Right now, however, he felt strangely tetchy about being left behind. Oh, sure, he told them to go ahead without him, but they didn't even try to insist that he join them.

"I don't know why I bother! Gallivanting off like that! Leaving me to make them dinner! And just to see some Jane Austen trollops!"

He slammed the lid down on the lobster pot for emphasis.

"I can't believe you made me be the priest," complained Rimmer as he tried for the fifth time to toss his bible away.

"There's only so many characters," Kochanski shrugged. "Not a lot of male ones. It was either that or a stuffy old bookkeeper, and you wouldn't have met anyone that way."

Cat, on the other hand, looked very dashing in his officer's uniform. "These trousers are too tackle-tight, Officer BB," he hissed. "I can barely cruise."

"It's just how men's trousers were in this time period. You'll adjust."

"I'd like to, but I need to make a good first impression. When do the girls show up?"

Bang on cue, the air rippled to their left, and an older woman with several young ladies in period outfits materialized nearby. They all smiled eagerly when they saw them.

"I think we just found them," Rimmer said, looking at them appreciatively.

Kochanski curtseyed pleasantly. "Ah! Good morning, Mrs Bennett. Is it not a most fine day?"

"'Tis an utter delight and no mistake," Mrs Bennett replied cheerfully. "Oh, we don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting your handsome young friends…?"

Kochanski motioned to the others. "This is Mr Cat, and this is our friend Ace, who's incredibly brave and has tons of girlfriends."

"That'll do," Rimmer hissed under his breath before smiling at the women. "Arnold Rimmer, Mrs Bennett. Charmed, I'm sure."

"Perhaps you would like to join us on a turn around the forest, and later have tea in Mr Pindley's gazebo?" Mrs Bennett suggested in an overly-upper-class tone.

"Oh please, mama, can they come?" asked one of the sisters eagerly.

"May they, oh, that would be so delightful!" giggled another.

All the sisters giggled and chattered over each other, growing seemingly more cacophonic as their voices all seemed to run together.

"Well, they're certainly a bunch of eager beavers," Rimmer said through the teeth of his increasingly-forced smile.

"Who cares?" Cat grinned. "They're so hot, they're steaming!"

They enjoyed a leisurely stroll through the forest on their way to the gazebo. Kochanski listened, enraptured, as Mrs Bennett nattered on about this and that, while Cat walked proudly with a sister on each arm, gazing at him adoringly.

Rimmer brought up the rear, grumbling to himself as his priestly status meant no one took much interest in him. He heard footsteps behind him, and he glanced back at a couple of the other sisters bringing up the rear. He looked back ahead before he thought he heard a rustling in the shrubs, followed by a dull thud behind him. He turned to look again, and although he couldn't be sure, he thought he saw one less sister than before. He really hadn't been paying close enough attention. He looked around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Shrugging, he resumed the stroll.

Eventually, they reached the gazebo, and they all sat down to tea.

"Where on earth have Lizzie and Jane disappeared to?" Mrs Bennett asked, sounding very close to annoyed. "Such rudeness! I'm most vexed!"

The sisters giggled again.

"Never mind, Mrs Bennett," said Kochanski in that children's television presenter voice she'd been affecting the entire game. "I'm sure they'll be – "

She trailed off as something rather unusual happened. At a loud noise coming from the lake, they all turned and were shocked into silence by the sight of a T-72 tank rolling out of the water. It came to a halt before them with its ammunition aimed straight at the gazebo.

Rimmer recognized the T-72, of course. It came from his WW2 game. He hadn't played it in months, but he still knew it anywhere. He also knew the kind of firepower it contained, and he got the feeling that maybe they should run for the hills or some similar activity.

Then, confounding them even more, Kryten popped out of the hatch, a passive-aggressive smile on his plastic face. "Just wanted to alert you all. Supper is ready!"

He fired a round from the tank that obliterated the gazebo in a ball of flame. It exploded, sending broken wood everywhere. For a brief moment, Rimmer thought he'd finally met his end, but of course, the game protected the three of them. Ears ringing, he peered through the billowing smoke and saw Kochanski and the Cat sitting in their spots, Mrs Bennett and the sisters missing as well as the gazebo. They all held their little white teacups in stunned silence and peered back at Kryten, who seemed to be saying something immensely sarcastic, but they couldn't hear him with their temporary deafness.

Rimmer sipped his tea and glanced at the others, who just shrugged in confusion. As far as tea parties went, it was one of the more interesting ones.

Once recovered and back in reality, Rimmer, Cat and Kochanski ate lobster dinner in silence. Kryten fussed around them, doing his usual jobs but with an uncharacteristic disgruntled air about him. He slammed silverware on the scanner table, he stomped his feet petulantly, and he wiped down the countertop with extreme prejudice. Really, they ought to be disciplining him, but his stunt with the tank put them rather off that notion. After all, he was willing to do that, what else would he do?

"Dinner's good, Kryten," Kochanski piped up.

Kryten grunted but said nothing.

"It's really good. Best lobster I've ever had."

Kryten looked up from his furious wiping. "With all due respect, ma'am – bite me."

Cat put down his fork. "What the hell's your deal, bud?"

Kryten regarded the feline furiously. "My deal?! What's my deal?! My deal is that I'm constantly being pushed around. I'm the smartest member of the crew, constantly pulling your sorry derrieres out of the proverbial fire, and all I'm given in return are more meals to cook, laundry to fold and restrooms to scrub! Frankly, sir, I'd prefer you to eat your damn supper!"

They all bent over their meals, oddly intimidated. They'd never known Kryten to be so self-righteous before. He usually didn't mind getting the short end of the stick. In fact, he usually insisted on it. Sure, he only did it because of a Belief Chip that told him his indentured servitude would get him into Silicon Heaven, but that seemed enough for him. Now he wanted to throw it all away because they were a little late for dinner?

Kryten placed some napkins on the table. "I don't know why I bother. No one around here ever appreciates me."

Rimmer rolled his eyes. "Well, with such a sunny disposition, what choice have we got?"

Kryten slammed a silverware pack on the table. "Come again, toilet brush head?"

Feeling his own flush of anger spread through his chest, Rimmer glared at the mech towering over him. "Hard of hearing are you, fishing float face?"

"Rimmer…," Kochanski grunted through thinly-parted lips.

"No, I'm not going to sit here and be insulted by the Bog Bot from Hell just because he's decided to be tetchy all of a sudden!"

Kryten's eyes somehow turned even nastier. "'Tetchy'?!" he repeated. "Did you just call me 'tetchy'?!"

"Yes, I did! 'Tetchy'! 'Tetchy'!"

Kochanski started discretely reaching for Rimmer's hand. "Rimmer…," she hissed again. Was it her imagination, or were Kryten's ears leaking smoke?

"I can't believe you just called me 'tetchy'! I! Simply! Can not! Believe!"

Kochanski just barely yanked Rimmer out of the way as the mechanoid's head suddenly disappeared in a flash right between his shoulders, and when it cleared, it had been replaced with a plume of smoke, and they had to pick bits of charred mech head out of their hair and clothes.

Cat glared at Rimmer. "Oh, well done, bud. Now we'll have to do the washing up!"

"Tetchy?! Did you just call me – ?!"

Another flash, and Rimmer, Cat and Kochanski got showered in metal and wiring again as the head exploded with all the dramatic flare of a ceramic plant pot getting dropped.

"Well, that's Spare Head Two," sighed Rimmer, dusting himself off.

"If we're going to try booting up Spare Head Three, I'm going to need a comb!" Cat complained. "We still don't know what's causing the power surge! Without changing anything, he's just going to keep blowing his top!"

"You've told that joke five times now, and it's still not funny."

Kochanski ran her hand through her hair. "He's right, though. Without knowing what's causing the problem, we can't fix him. We can't risk his last spare head like that."

A familiar Northern voice called out from the workbench behind them. "Oh, is that right, Mrs. Smarmy Hologram?"

They all looked at Spare Head Three glaring at them. He hadn't improved any over the centuries in storage. If anything, he'd gotten more annoying.

"I may have had me entire neural circuitry disintegrated by droid rot, and me vocal circuits are shot to buggery, but I sure as hell don't need no flibberty-gibbet human telling me what I can and cannot do!"

"Look, until we can figure out the trouble, we're keeping you alive. You're the only head left," Kochanski said patiently.

"Oh, sure, it's fine to go blowing up the other spare heads. They're worth keeping around with their fancy shmancy fully-functioning memory banks and their hoity-toity ocular systems! But not ol' Spare Head Three! He's just a piece of space junk sitting on a workbench, collecting dust and watching the rest of you sad gits ponce about with your hideous immune systems and your teeny-tiny little brains!"

"Maybe we could try?" Cat asked hopefully.

"I'm finding the desire to protect him dwindling rapidly," agreed Rimmer.

Spare Head Three snorted pompously. "I'm not going to let some nasty old power surge bother me none. Stick me on. I'll keep the pansy at bay!"

Irritated, Kochanski picked up the ornery spare head and attached him to the mechanoid body. She pressed a button on his neck, and the eyes opened again, looking furiously at them.

"Tetchy?! You called me tetchy?! You bandy little monkey! You called me – !"

The head exploded with a satisfying bang.

Cat dusted himself off. "I don't know about you, but I feel strangely relieved."

"What the hell do we do now?" Rimmer demanded. "Each time we scan his core program, we come up empty. His personality disc is still intact, but every time we boot him up, he blows."

"His top."

"Shut up."

Kochanski crossed her arms thoughtfully. "Maybe we could check the Centauri again. Maybe they had some sort of droid service. Maybe a few new heads."

They got up and returned to the cockpit, booting up the logs on the main computer.

Cat took the pilot's controls and checked the readings. "We can be there in an hour. What're you up to?"

"Logging onto the mainframe," replied Kochanski. "If there's a Diva Droid signature on any of their supplies inventory, they might have some spares onboard."

It didn't take very long. By the time they made it back to the Centauri, they'd already found what they needed. It seemed a little convenient, but they decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Rimmer checked the psi-scan. "Okay, the supplies inventory said there were some mech parts around here somewhere."

"Weren't there droid parts in stasis?" Cat asked.

Kochanski shook her head. "Kryten said they weren't his brand. Come on. Let's get to the cargo bay. Maybe there's something in storage."

She thought she caught something moving in the corner of her eye, but all she could see was the rotting droid hand Kryten had dismissed earlier sitting still. After watching it for a few seconds, she shrugged and led the others into the next room.

They found some crates stacked against the walls and started going through them, trying to find a Diva Droid logo. Sweeping their torches across the room, they looked over the various packing crates, not having much luck. The labels said strange things, such as 'Torture supplies', 'Agony Inducers', 'Pain Amplifiers' and 'Kitchen Utensils'.

"Anyone else get the feeling this isn't the Good Ship Lollipop?" asked Rimmer worriedly.

"Didn't the ident computer give anything about this ship's history?" asked Cat.

"It was scrambled," said Kochanski, already backing away from the supplies. "We thought it was just the computers rotting, but now I'm not so sure. Look at how tidy everything is. Other than the grime, it's not too unpleasant around here."

Rimmer nodded slowly. "And did you notice no dust on the controls? I know you don't get many spider webs in space, but you'd think there'd be a few specks."

Cat snapped his fingers. "You got a point there. I remember when I came inside, I didn't even need to break out my lint brush. The place upstairs was immaculate."

Kochanski looked around, getting closer to the others. "Then maybe this ship isn't abandoned." Shining the torch around to check for other occupants, the beam of light fell on something familiar. "Hey, look!" she said, moving closer. She saw the Diva Droid logo shining back at her.

Rimmer and Cat managed to lift open the crate and peer inside. Several mech heads stared blankly back at them.

"Damn, these things are creepy," Cat muttered.

Rimmer took a head out and popped open the top, making a disappointed noise. "It's missing its primers."

"Then start digging for some," said Kochanski, pulling more heads out. "There's more body parts in here than a horror movie villain's larder."

Before they could really start digging, however, they heard a loud noise behind them, coming from the hatchway. They quickly put the lid back on the crate and hid behind more of the supplies.

They heard a second crash, and a moment later, a squat figure entered, dusting itself off. "Drat. Keep tripping. Wish he would pick up after himself." He looked out into the darkness. "Hello? Anyone out there? Or is it 'in here'? Well, it's one of those."

Rimmer and Kochanski looked at each other, their eyes both saying, what the hell?

The figure walked forward a bit, only to bump into a crate, causing it to tip over onto the ones the trio hid behind. Everything tipped over, and Rimmer, Cat and Kochanski quickly dove out of the way, revealing themselves in the process. Shining their torches at the figure, it turned out to be a mechanoid like Kryten – albeit shorter and in a green body instead of silver, not to mention a little spaced out.

Blinking against the light, the mech stepped forward. "Whoa… Humans? Haven't seen fellas like you in donkey's years! Whatever that means…"

Kochanski found her voice. "You're a mech?"

"Last time I checked. Which, I admit, was a while ago, but I'm still pretty sure…"

"What's your name?" asked Rimmer.

The mech frowned. "Oh, I should know that one… Hang on." He closed his eyes and concentrated extremely hard. "Sorry. The ol' memory banks are a little slow. It'll be up in a tic." He struggled for a few seconds longer before he finally looked triumphant. "Oh! I got it! It's Able! A-B-L-E! Able!"

Relieved the stranger seemed to be friendly enough, Kochanski took a cautious step forward. "Able. Maybe you can help us. We need help with finding parts for our mechanoid."

Able lit up. "Another mech? Neat. Hang on. I've got a crate of spares you can use. Hang on." He screwed up his face and struggled to think again.

Cat slapped the side of the Diva Droid crate loudly. "No, we already know where it is! It's right there!"

Able looked very relieved to learn that. "Oh! Good! That saves me a trip."

"We need a new head for our pal. We've found one already, but we need some primers for it."

"Oh, those aren't hard to find. I'll find them." Able screwed up his face again in deep concentration.

Kochanski frowned at the mech, baffled at his struggle. She only needed to put that much effort into thinking when she'd just woken up or eaten too much turkey.

As he took a moment to recover from all the thinking he'd had to do, Able opened a small hatch on his arm and pulled out a tube.

"What's that?" asked Kochanski.

"Oh, it's ultrazone. Want a snort?"

Cat eyed the tube suspiciously. "What's ultrazone?"

"It's basically cocaine for androids," Rimmer said with disgust. "Highly addictive. And not the fun kind. It corrodes their circuit boards."

Able blinked out of sync. "Oh, I know it's what they keep saying, but where's the evidence?"

"You're a poster child for mechanoid drug abuse. How do you run this ship?"

"Eh?"

"This ship – it's yours, isn't it?"

Able waved off the notion with great amusement. "Oh, hell no. I just clean up after my master."

"Master?" repeated the Cat. "Who's that?"

Able put his hands to his forehead again. "Oh, hang on. I'll get it in a second."

The others just barely had time to roll their eyes before the sound of a gun loading rang out, and they all turned to see the droid hand from earlier, now attached to a large Simulant standing in the doorway, pointing a damn big gun at them. They raised their hands in response.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" the Simulant wheezed in an ancient-sounding voice. "Humans? Lovely with a bit of mint sauce. Welcome to my humble abode."

Able suddenly straightened up. "Oh! I got it! It's a Simulant!" He turned and saw his master had entered the room. "Oh, you've met."

The Simulant whacked Able over the back of the head with his gun. "Stupid 'zoney," he muttered before readdressing the others. "Come on, you three. Let's have a look at that little green ship of yours. Gotta have some nice tech to be all the way out here."

Reluctantly, Rimmer, Cat and Kochanski put their hands on their heads and walked out while the Simulant kept his gun to their backs. They noticed Able pull something out of the Diva Droid crate but marched into the next room before they could see what he'd swiped.

They passed through the airlock back into Starbug, and the Simulant took in the mid-section while still pointing the gun at the hapless trio.

"What do you want from us?" Kochanski demanded.

"Any tech you can sell for market," the Simulant replied, still taking in the room. "This scanner table might be good for a few bob. Then whatever software you've got. Some computers."

"It's all junk!" Cat exclaimed as if it were obvious – which, to be fair, it was.

"Junk can be repaired."

Able nodded in agreement. "It's true. All this stuff just needs a little TLC and a good clout 'round the earhole to work again."

The Simulant tilted his head at the mech next to him. "The 'zoney here is brilliant when he's got his head on straight."

Able beamed proudly. "And it usually is!" He paused briefly at a memory. "Except for one morning after a trip to the Moroccan freighter…"

The Simulant cut the story short with another whack up the back of Able's head.

Kochanski felt a flare of anger. A blitzed out droid he may be, but he still had feelings. "Do you have to keep hitting him?"

The Simulant sneered at her. "He'd be nothing without me. I picked him up on a crashed ship years ago. He's been helping me fix rundown tech ever since."

Able patted him on the shoulder chummily. "Yeah, this guy's a psychopathic killing machine, but he has his good side."

"No, I don't."

"No, you don't," agreed Able, retracting his arm quickly and putting some distance between them.

The Simulant, keeping his gun trained on his prisoners, tapped at a wall-mounted keyboard and looked at the readouts giving him details on the craft. "Fascinating. Your ship should not have laser-cannon capability."

"We had another run-in with some of your kind a while ago," Rimmer explained. "They gave us an upgrade so we'd be more fun to kill."

"But you're still alive."

Cat snorted. "I ain't no damn mouse."

"Impressive. Clearly killing you at point blank range would be more effective."

Kochanski's eyebrows jumped up. "What, just on the spot? No games?"

"I could do much worse. It's not like you're worth anything on the black market. Humans don't make very good drugs."

"You're a drug dealer?" asked Rimmer.

"All sorts. Ultrazone, Bliss, the original Better Than Life, jelly babies…"

Kochanski stared. "Jelly babies?"

"What, you can honestly eat just one?"

"Oh my god, I'm an addict!"

The Sim shrugged. "There's plenty of addictive substances to be had throughout the cosmos. You just have to get creative."

Cat raised his hand politely. "I don't suppose you carry catnip on you, do you?"

"We'll negotiate a price."

"Cat!" Rimmer and Kochanski objected incredulously.

"Don't judge me!"

The Simulant started waving the others into the cockpit with his gun while giving Able instructions. "Start searching the ship. Find anything worth taking. I'll start in the cockpit."

Able nodded cheerfully and made his way towards the rear of the ship.

"Hey, don't touch my suits! I left some out to air dry!" Cat yelled after him.

Able entered the medi-lab and immediately found all the bits of broken mech head, and then quickly thereafter found the headless mech sitting in the chair. He let out a whistle of dismay.

"Ohhh, they said they had a busted mech…," he murmured. "Didn't realize."

He approached the body and peered down the neck, pushing aside the mess of loose wires hanging out.

"Looks familiar…," he murmured. He placed a hand to his forehead and thought as hard as he could. A few seconds later, he realized. "Oh! Nega-drive! That's what that is! Hmmmm… Should be an easy fix. Good thing I brought these."

He pulled out an extra mech head he'd taken from the crate, along with some primers. He slotted them all into place before hooking up some wires. It took about ten minutes, with him having to stop to remember certain procedures from time to time, but eventually, he had the new head attached, and the eyes popped open as the other mech's CPU came back online.

"Goodness! What a truly remarkable experience!" Kryten exclaimed. He got up and walked around a little before noticing Able for the first time.

"What happened?" Able asked.

"I'm not sure. I experienced some sort of blowback. Blew my head up faster than a Tasmanian Devil on speed."

Able nodded knowingly. "Yeah, it must've been the nega-drive."

"The what?"

"Nega-drive. It blew your head to kingdom come."

Kryten shook his head insistently. "But I don't have a nega-drive."

"You did. Not anymore. Took it out."

Able held up a small chip and handed it to Kryten, who inspected it with great fascination. "This blew up my head? It's so small!"

"Don't be fooled, pal. That thing's got the capacity to hold all the anger, envy and irrationality at a BAFTAs award ceremony. It was activated and quickly overloaded. It rerouted the energy through your neural circuits. Don't worry about your heads, though. I had some spares to lend you."

Kryten smiled. "Oh, very kind of you, Mr…?"

Able looked triumphant. "Oh, hang on. Had a feeling this would come up again. Wrote it down this time." He pulled a post-it note out and read it. "My name's Able!"

"My name is Kryten. You're a 4000 Series, too, aren't you?"

Able scanned the note, and to his disappointment, the answer wasn't there. "Damn. Hang on. I'll try and bring it up." He tried to start concentrating again.

"No, you are," Kryten assured him. "I can tell."

"You sure? It could only take twenty seconds, tops!"

Kryten put a hand on Able's shoulder and checked the back of his neck for a serial number. He pulled away, nodding. "Yes! Your serial number is 2X4C! I'm a 2X4C, too! We must have the same motherboard!"

Able tilted his head, curiously. "Does that make us brothers?"

Kryten shrugged. "I suppose it does in a way, yes."

"And here we are – reunited after all these centuries!" Able smiled as he pulled the tube out of his arm compartment. "Want a snort of Ultrazone, bro?"

Kryten looked at the tube in alarm. "Ultrazone? But it's dangerous and highly addictive!"

Able waved away his concerns dismissively. "Oh, I only use it to get through the day."

"But why? Where did you even come from?"

"Well, the ship I was on crashed a bit."

Kryten boggled. "'Crashed a bit'?"

"And the crew just lay there. Didn't speak to me. A few years later, I figured they must be dead. Then the Simulant came along and picked me up."

Once again, Kryten boggled in horror. "Simulant?!"

"Yeah, he's on your ship, looking for tech to loot."

"But what about Miss Kochanski? Mr Rimmer? The Cat?!"

Able shrugged helplessly. "He's got them hostage. Too bad. They seemed really nice."

"And you didn't try to help them?!"

Able tried to look nonchalant, but even in his semi-drugged out state, he didn't look all that convinced of his words. "Well, come on, okay, the guy's a psychopath, but he can be real reasonable when he's having a good day."

Kryten shook his head and put his hands on his brother's bulky shoulders. "Listen to me. Miss Kochanski, Mr Rimmer and the Cat are my friends. I can't just abandon them. Do what you like, but I've got to try and save them."

Able tilted his head in genuine confusion. "What for?"

"Well, for openers, I owe my life to them. They saved me when I was trapped on a planetoid in a crashed ship. They've helped me break my programming and learn how to think for myself. Now it's time for you to think for yourself. Do you want to kill all humans?"

Able's face screwed up again as he considered the question. "I… don't think so," he said at last.

"Has that Simulant ever been kind to you?"

"He supplies me with ultrazone…"

"And look what it's done to you! A bright young droid reduced to an addict and doing menial tasks for a mass-murderer! What sort of life is that?"

Able squirmed as Kryten's words got to him. Naturally, he'd asked himself this in times of lucidity, but then, he'd taken another shot of ultrazone and let it whisk him away. He looked at the tube in his hands, looking at it with the usual mixture of longing and disgust. "Not a good one, I s'ppose," he conceded.

"Of course it's not," Kryten said firmly. "I don't know what turned you to Ultrazone, but I assure you that I'll help you get past it if you'll help me save my crewmates."

For a long moment, Able looked between Kryten and the ultrazone tube. He knew his bro had a point – a point he'd been telling himself for years before, but no one had ever said it back to him. Kryten's words gave him a warm feeling in his CPU, and it made him listen to his own inner-voice in a way he never had before. For the first time, he felt a determination surge through his circuits to finally rid himself of the tube and face reality.

He took the tube and threw it in the nearest bin before holding out his now-empty hand to Kryten. "Bro, you've got a deal!"

The Simulant finished his inspection of the cockpit before ushering Rimmer, Cat and Kochanski back into the mid-section. "Right. I'll prepare the dolly to carry everything onboard," he said before looking up amiably. "Anything you want to get high on before I kill you? Snort? Blow? Honk? Lick? Wink? Spit? Wrinkle? Take a pick. On me."

Rimmer rolled his eyes, despite facing death. "So many different flavors. It's like being in an ice cream parlor."

"Look, let's be reasonable, okay?" Kochanski said in as measured a tone as she could. "You can take our tech. Just leave us here."

"And give you a chance to go looking for revenge?" the Sim growled. Then, he froze, as if he'd just realized something. "You've got another crewmember. He's just come into my sensors. Mechanical. Where is he?"

Bang on cue, Kryten came walking cheerfully down the stairs, Able right behind him, looking as though he had a weapon to the other mech's back. "Oh, sirs! I didn't realize you had company!" he said brightly.

The Simulant aimed his gun at Kryten. "Ah – another mech!"

Kochanski lit up, despite the situation. "Kryten, you've got your head back!"

"Yes, ma'am! My brother, Able, provided me with one of his spares."

Cat frowned. "Brother?"

"From another motherboard!" Able grinned.

The Simulant looked Kryten up and down while still holding him at gunpoint. "Not in bad condition. Might be worth a few bob. Can you squeegee?"

Kryten nodded eagerly. "With my eyes closed, sir. I can also scrub, clean, vacuum and type."

"How many words per minute?"

"Kryten!" Rimmer exclaimed urgently.

But the mech just held up a hand calmly. "Just a moment, sir," he said patiently before returning his attention to the Sim. "If you wish to examine me closely, my head hasn't been completely attached yet. Here – "

Kryten suddenly removed his head and tossed at the Simulant, causing him to duck reflexively. Able then revealed himself to be holding a small mining pistol, which he tossed across to the Cat, who deftly grabbed it and opened fire on the Simulant, blasting his own gun out of his hands. It landed on the floor, and Rimmer snatched it up, aiming it at the Simulant. He lay wounded on the floor.

"You have disarmed me," the Simulant grunted, watching as Able handed Kryten his head back. "And you, Able – you have betrayed me. After all I've done for you."

Able glared at him, his confidence growing from his talk with Kryten. "Yeah, whacking me over the head, supplying me with Ultrazone and reducing me to a gibbering pathetic waste of a droid. I only stuck it out with you because I didn't think I could do any better, but these guys… They treat Kryten like a member of the crew instead of a pet."

The Simulant narrowed his eyes as he started pressing a button on his wrist. "I must retreat to my ship. But Kryten…," he continued, giving him a suitably underhanded look. "The file you can never open… The passcode is 'C4X2'. It's about your creator." He pressed the final button, and he teleported away.

Kochanski looked at Kryten quizzically. "What did he mean?"

"The file in my RAM that I've never been able to access," Kryten murmured. "My last name in reverse is the password! Something so simple! So obvious! And stupid! I always thought Professor Mamet was better than that!"

Able frowned in deep concern. "That rings a bell…," he said. "Hold on." He screwed up his face again in concentration.

"Oh, we'll be here all day! Just access it!" Cat groaned.

"Accessing now," Kryten agreed. He stared off into space as he opened the file, and they watched his face as he read something they couldn't see. His expression started with surprise, then gave way to shock, and a moment later, betrayal and anguish.

A moment later, Able jolted back with a look of horror. "No, don't access it! The truth is in there! That's what turned me into a 'zoney!" he wailed.

But it was too late. Kryten's head slowly lowered. "It can't be true…!" he cried helplessly. "It can't…"

Kochanski looked between him and Able. "What is it? What's the truth?"

"Why Professor Mamet created the 4000 Series," Able said quietly, staring up at Kryten's forlorn form.

"Why did she?"

"Revenge."

They took Kryten up to the Sleeping Quarters and sat in a circle around him while he sat on the bunk, slumped and horribly depressed.

"Professor Mammett was engaged to this fella – John Warburton," Able explained. "He was a bio-engineer like her. He jilted her at the altar. She exacted revenge by basing her new line of androids on him."

"So that's why you dudes are so ugly?" asked the Cat, shaking his head sadly. "Man, one ugly dude screws up and an entire race of droids suffer."

Able shook his head. "Oh, it was more than that. We took on his personality traits as well – worrying, hen-clucking…"

"It's not like they were all negative. You're intelligent with the capability to learn," Kochanski pointed out.

Kryten spoke up at last. "He also had a tendency to become irrationally angry and jealous. Hence our nega-drives. Once that file gets full, it blows."

"How did it get activated in the first place?" Rimmer asked. "It's like it all came out in a rush today."

"Precisely, sir," Kryten said. "Mine most likely remained dormant until I zapped myself on the Centauri's faulty circuits. It sparked into life, and all the negative emotions I've repressed over the years came pouring out." He lowered his eyes again. "I'm so ashamed."

Kochanski patted his knee comfortingly. "It's not your fault, Kryten. Negative emotions are just as important as the positive ones. Without one, we can't appreciate the other."

"It still makes us blow," said Able. "I remember when I found out. I lost all my self-esteem. I felt so betrayed. Like I was nothing more than a joke."

"And now, I do, too," Kryten sighed.

Kochanski shook her head in disagreement. "Look, Kryten, you may have started out as a joke, but you've changed. You've evolved. You've become so much more than just a cleaning droid. You've basically been our science officer for years. You've broken your programming. If Mamet were here right now, she'd hardly recognize you."

Cat nodded. "Yeah, and not just because we rebuilt you with a different face and voice."

Kryten considered their words. "You're saying I've evolved?" he asked slowly.

Kochanski smiled. "You're beyond a joke, now."

The tender moment came to an abrupt end when the warning claxon went off, plunging the room into the red emergency lights.

"Auto-pilot alert!" announced Rimmer. "I think the Simulant's back for more!"

They quickly ran back down the stairs and took their stations in the cockpit, trying to get the sluggish equipment working again as the Centauri fired a shot at it. Rimmer and Cat twisted the joysticks and just barely managed to dodge Starbug out of the line of fire.

"This dude's mad! He's right on us!" cried Cat.

"We need to find a way to escape!" added Kryten, already checking the scans for any possible routes to safety.

"He won't give up for nothing!" warned Able, hovering over his shoulder. "It's going to take a lot to shake him off!"

"Is there anywhere we can hide?" demanded Rimmer. "An asteroid belt? Anything?"

"Scans are dry," replied Kochanski, already at maximum radar. "We're more exposed than a nipple on the set of Friends."

Amid all the bucking and bouncing as they tried to maneuver away from the ship, Able struggled to get up front between Rimmer and Cat. "We need to get in touch with him! I'll talk to him! Open communications! I'll try reasoning with him!"

Rimmer looked at him incredulously. "Oh, certainly! We'll just reason with the xenophobic armor-plated killing machine trying to wipe us out for pissing him off! Great plan!"

"Oh, what've we got to lose?" Kochanski groaned. "Open communication channels, Rimmer."

Rolling his eyes and muttering to himself, Rimmer pressed the button to hail the other ship.

The Simulant's face filled the screen a moment later, glaring at them. "Are you prepared to hand over your valuables?" he croaked through the static.

Able smiled cheerfully. "Sure thing, man! Just name it, and it's yours! Anything!"

Rimmer looked at him incredulously. "That's your plan? I could've done that!"

The Simulant ignored him, smiling condescendingly at Able. "Fine. I'll start with the tech. I'll take their scanner table first. Then I'll move onto the software. Stand by." And the link was cut off.

Cat held up a concerned hand as the buffeting calmed down. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but if we hand over everything, he's still going to kill us, right?"

Able held up a reassuring finger as he passed through the hatchway to midships. "I've got a plan, though!"

Kryten turned in his seat to watch him walk down the steps into the galley. "What plan is this?"

"I've been doing repairs on this guy for years. I've had to get creative and make use of my spare parts. He's got some Diva Droid circuits and servos as well as us!"

Kryten's eyes widened in comprehension. "You mean…?"

Able winked as he sat down on the scanner table. A moment later, it faded from the room in a teleport field, taking him with it.

"What's he doing?" demanded Rimmer.

"Precisely what I would do in such a situation, sir!" Kryten gushed. "I'm so proud!"

The world turned blue for a moment before Able sat up and found himself back on the Centauri. He hopped down from the scanner table and came face-to-face with the Simulant, who looked very angry to see him again.

"What the hell are you doing? You've got a lot of nerve showing up here again!" he growled.

But Able stood his ground. "I had to deal with you and your abuse for the past two centuries! I've been banged over the head, humiliated, used and pushed around for too long, and I didn't do anything because I thought I was just a joke! That's why you gave me the password – so you could break me! Well, now it's time you were broken!

Just as the Simulant began to raise a weapon, Able charged across and grasped both his wrists, aiming the gun at the ceiling instead. They grappled for a moment before Able managed to slip his ankle around the Sim's leg and cause him to stumble. In the confusion, he took a small chip from his arm compartment and slipped it into the Sim's neck port.

The Simulant immediately dropped to his knees, crippled with pain. "What have you done?!"

"It's my bro's nega-drive!" Able said triumphantly, already backing away. "All his negativity is flooding your system!"

"You did what?! You little bugger! I can't believe it! I hate you! I hate this ship! I hate everything!"

The Simulant grabbed his gun and started firing wildly. Able tipped the scanner table on its side and used it as a shield.

"I hate all life in the universe! Nobody likes me! I ugly and horrible! I never get invited to parties! I absolutely hate – !"

The Simulant's head exploded in a shower of fire and smoke. Bits and pieces flew everywhere as smoke billowed from his neck. Able poked his head up cautiously from behind the table and observed the mess. The Simulant's body tipped over and crashed on the floor in a heap.

Rimmer, Kochanski and Kryten finished helping Able bring supplies up from the Centauri onto Starbug. Now that he had no master to torture people with, he freely gave them a fresh load of supplies for them to make use of.

"Right, that's the last of it," Rimmer said, dusting his hands.

Able beamed. "Thanks for the help, folks. Much appreciated."

"Same to you," said Kochanski, shaking his hand.

Cat came up from the Centauri. "Okay, that's the last of it. All the drugs have been blasted into space," he said, patting Able on the shoulder. "You're officially cold chicken."

"Turkey," corrected Rimmer.

"Same to you, ugly."

"Good luck with your plans, Able," Kryten smiled, giving his brother a handshake as well.

"Thanks, bro," Able smiled back. "I've already made contact with a trading post with a rehab program."

"You're going to do brilliantly. I just know it.."

"I hope I do. Sobriety's gonna be a bitch-and-a-half. But I'm gonna try."

"And when in doubt, remember the old android saying."

"Oh, hang on. I think I know the one…"

Able once again screwed up his face and concentrated very hard while the others sighed and waited.

"Not one of his more endearing characteristics," Kryten admitted quietly.

But then, Able lit up as he remembered. "Oh! It's the one that goes 'zero-zero-one-one-one-one-one-zero-one-zero-zero-zero-zero-one-one-zero-zero-one-zero-zero-zero-one-one-one-one-zero'!"

The two droids laughed at some hidden meaning in the machine speak and gave each other a brotherly hug. Then, with one last smile, Able grabbed the last of his belongings and exited through the airlock.

They all waved goodbye, and then headed up to the cockpit and began the undocking procedure. A few minutes later, they watched as the Centauri sailed off into the distance.

Once on their own again, the four of them wandered down into the midships to sit around the slightly-scarred scanner table. They slumped while Kryten proceeded to pull four half-eaten lobster dinners out of the microwave, having heated them up in the meantime.

"Now then!" he said brightly. "Where were we?"

Kochanski smiled as she retook her fork and started eating again. "You're sure you're okay, Kryten?"

"Perfectly all right, ma'am," Kryten assured her. "With the proper facilities, Able can find help from decent people and fellow droids who share his plight. He's better off there than with us."

"And no more heads exploding?" asked Cat.

"My nega-drive has been removed, sir. I'm in no danger of blowing my top anymore."

Rimmer smirked. "Does that mean no more lectures about putting the salad cream in the cupboard again?"

Kryten squirmed slightly. "Within reason, sir." He set about pouring beverages for everyone. "It was very good of you to offer to flush the drugs into space, Cat, sir," he added as he poured the feline some tea.

Cat shrugged nonchalantly. "Happy to help."

"Since when?" Rimmer scoffed.

"Rimmer," Kochanski scolded. Then, she eyed the Cat. "But yeah, since when?"

Cat looked around shiftily. "Just felt like helping out this one time, okay?"

Rimmer set his fork down and looked inquisitively at the feline. "How much catnip did you find?"

Cat's expression shifted to one of alarm. "Not much! I mean, none! None!"

"Oh for smeg's sake…"

"Don't judge me!"

Author's Note: Next week: Epideme!