Two
He seemed to hover between levels of consciousness; occasionally he would be aware of the voices appearing in his ears, vanishing as quickly as they came. He couldn't maintain the strength needed to remain aware of the surrounding world, instead allowing himself to float in a meaningless void.
He wasn't sure if his internal chronometer had crashed or been turned off to save power, but regardless, he would sometimes grasp onto the vague thought of wondering how long he had been out.
Lister's voice often appeared while he was lost in the darkness. At least, he thought he heard Lister; part of him hoped it wasn't a hallucination. It would be nice to know they haven't abandoned me…again…
When he finally felt strong enough to open his eyes, he still felt like complete smeg. The blurred ceiling of the medibay greeted him as he fought to clear his vision. His body felt weaker than a kitten, and he fought the slowly-rising need to scream when he realised he could hardly lift his hand. He watched in sick fascination as his fingers trembled violently; in life, he had certainly never been this sick. I just can't catch a break, can I?
On the other hand, he realised that his chest no longer felt like a bus had run over it. My lungs aren't having a seizure! Marvellous! He absently went to rest his hand on his stomach when his hand suddenly disappeared through it. A glance down his body quickly extinguished any reassuring thoughts; his eyes went wide at the site of an old, familiar red suit donning his frame. Who the smeg changed my drive back to soft light? That constitutes violation of a senior-
"Ay, welcome back, Rimmer."
If he'd had the strength to do, Rimmer would've jumped off the bed in fright. Turning his head slightly, Lister's face suddenly came into his line of vision. His eyes were weary and red, his clothes disshelved. Multiple cans of beer and empty curry containers littered the floor near his feet; Rimmer could only guess how long the younger man had been awake.
Lister leant forward in his seat, speaking quietly. "Before you ask, it's been a couple of days. Kryten's been workin' day and night to keep you alive, smeghead."
Rimmer was stunned. Two days? It felt a hell of a lot longer than that. He swallowed, intending to speak, but Lister shook his head and pointed to the other side of the room. "Kryten's runnin' some tests, man. Best not interrupt 'im."
Rimmer rolled his eyes. I don't believe that man has ever been to medical school. Summoning the limited strength he currently possessed, he pointed a shaky finger at himself and gave Lister a questioning look. What the hell happened to me?
"You're in the medibay, mate. Kryten couldn't get your fever down from the holographic projection suite, so he's been looking after ya down here."
Rimmer realised that Lister assumed he had no memory of anything that had occurred. I certainly remember the fever. He furrowed his eyebrows and slowly put his palm through his chest. Use your brain, you gimboid! Why am I back to being a walking ghost?
A lightbulb seemed to go off in Lister's eyes, though Rimmer suspected it was due to the intravenous pump alarm sounding at the same time. "Ah. Yeah. Might be best if Kryten explains that one," He rose from his seat and began fiddling with an intravenous fluid bag above Rimmer's head. "Kryten? Do ya need this last bag?"
"No, sir. I won't be able to administer it for some time." Kryten's voice filled the air.
Yes, you can't run it now because it'll dribble all over the floor instead of being pumped into my arm.
As the mechanoid made his way over, Lister unhooked the bag and showed it to Rimmer. He squinted at the writing, as he wanted to reassure himself that he wasn't being pumped full of curry sauce or hydrachloric acid, only to realise Lister was holding it back to front. "You've gone through four bags of fluid and antibiotics in two days, mate. Computer reckons if you were a human, you'd be a smeggin' water balloon by now."
And there still wouldn't be enough antibiotics in it to kill whatever organisms are living in your laundry. Rimmer gasped as the head of the bed was suddenly tilted upwards. The world span in front of his eyes as he once again began fighting the rising nausea.
"Ah, Mr Rimmer, sir!" Kryten came into Rimmer's line of view. "So glad to see you conscious again. We've been so worried about you!"
A yowl from the corridor preceded the Cat's entrance. He strutted proudly into the medibay, twirling in a circle and causing his velvet coattails to flap. "Hey buds! What's the news on Goalpost Head? Is he dead yet?"
Rimmer could only roll his eyes as Lister sent multiple glares at the feline.
The Cat was unfazed by the impact of his statement. "I'm only askin' so I can plan my suits-"
"Shut up, Cat!" Lister snapped. "Yes, he's a complete smeghead who is a giant pain in the backside, but still! At least check he's unconscious before you start trashin' 'im."
Rimmer watched helplessly as Cat and Lister descended into yet another heated shouting match, with Kryten desperately trying to act as a referee. If only I could shout at them! Or hit the table. Or hit them - I think I'd prefer that option.
He thought for a moment before he placed his fingers in his mouth and let out a wolf whistle. The others immediately stopped their discussion and turned to the hologram. About time, too. Such childish behaviour; I can't wait till I can put them all on report.. He gave Kryten a distressed expression while pointing at himself in an exaggerated manner.
"I'm sorry, Mr Rimmer, I'm afraid I don't understand charades." Kryten's tone appeared to be sincere, but Rimmer couldn't help but feel he was being played with.
They just want me to make an even bigger fool of myself! Rimmer rubbed his temples in frustration, motioning for Kryten to watch his lips: What the smeg happened? Why can't I talk?!
Kryten's eyes widened. "Oh! My apologies, sir. I should explain."
Rimmer scowled. Yes, you bloody well should. You're supposed to be providing patient centred care, miladdo.
"Would you like the long, complicated version with medical jargon," Kryten continued, "or the blunt and emotionless statement?"
"Just get on with it, Krytes." Lister said tiredly.
"Very well, sirs. In essence," Kryten stated, "Mr Rimmer has the holographic equivalent of streptococcal pharyngitis."
Rimmer raised his eyebrows in surprise. How could this happen?! How could I have caught it?…What have I caught, exactly?
"Strepto whatamis?" The Cat chimed in.
"It's streptococcal pharyngitis, otherwise known as 'strep throat'," Kryten clarified.
Lister was baffled. He stroked his chin as he paced next to Rimmer's bed. "How the hell can a hologram catch that? It's a bacteria thing, isn't it?"
"Sir, I did say he has the 'equivalent'. While Mr Rimmer is physically incapable of contracting a bacterial infection, he is susceptible to a hologramatic virus that causes the same physical reaction. Somehow, his light bee has come into contact with this virus and it must have mutated to affect his programming."
"But where the smeg would he have caught it?" Lister asked. "It's not like we're surrounded by humans anymore."
"My guess is that it was contained in the food we retrieved from the supply vessel a few days ago," Kryten glanced at Rimmer. "Sir, when did you begin feeling unwell, exactly?"
Rimmer opened his mouth, but Kryten hurriedly interrupted. "Sir, I must remind you that you shouldn't speak. I am assuming it was after we visited the supply ship, correct?"
You infuriating git! You're probably enjoying telling me to shut it. With a roll of his eyes, Rimmer nodded. What a pity I can't project my insults directly into your disfigured head.
"Lemme get this straight," Cat began to pace. "We've been eatin' food from that ship for a couple of days now, right? How come Goalpost Head is the only one sick?"
"Two possibilities, sirs. Either Mr Cat and Mr Lister have extraordinary digestive tracts and superior immune systems, or the virus that has affected Mr Rimmer was only present in either the cream or the butter I used to make those potatoes," Kryten shrugged. "I'd have to run some more tests to ensure the rest of the food isn't contaminated."
Given the amount of curry Lister eats, I wouldn't be surprised if his stomach acid could dissolve diamonds. Rimmer snapped his fingers impatiently, directing Kryten's attention to his hand passing through the medibay bed. Do you mind explaining this little problem?
"I've temporarily disabled your hard light activation matrix to allow your light bee time to heal itself, sir. I've reprogrammed it to reactive once it's completed its diagnostics and repairs; I doubt it will take longer than twelve to fifteen hours," Kryten clasped his hands. "Unfortunately, sir, the majority of the corruption was done to the programming responsible for generating your physical form. I've managed to repair most of it, but there are a few…bugs that need extra time for recalibration. Mostly to do with your breathing and, um, vocal patterns…"
Rimmer felt the familiar pit of despair beginning to form in his stomach. What have you done to my systems now?
"Most of the recalibration I was able to complete while you were unconscious, sir, but…" Kryten trailed off, his hands twitching nervously. "...I've had to place your articulation subroutines into diagnostic mode, as they had experienced heavy damage. I'm sorry to say, sir, but you'll find you won't be able to speak for the next twenty-four hours, at minimum."
"No Goalpost Head ranting for twenty-four hours?" A grin spread across Cat's face. "I didn't think it was Christmas!"
A/N: I'd appreciate some ideas on what scenarios would be funny to make poor Rimmer experience while in this state!