Five
"Absolutely splendid, sir. Everything is coming along perfectly," Kryten lowered the psi-scanner. "I estimate you are on track to regain hard light status in nine hours, fifty three minutes."
Rimmer instinctively raised a hand to his chest, hovering over his lightbee. Well, that certainly makes things a bit easier. He gestured to his throat impatiently. What about my voice?
"No changes there, I'm afraid, sir. I still can't exactly pinpoint how long until your vocal routines are back online."
Kryten's look of sympathy seemed genuine to the hologram, but he could see Lister attempting to suppress a smirk. He shot a glare at the younger man, raising his finger in warning. I still remember the moon, miladdo.
It took Lister a moment to see Rimmer's silent threat. "Rimmer, man, I swear on me gran that I'm not enjoyin' this," He sighed. "But surely you can understand that watching you just mouthin' at everyone is smeggin' funny."
"You'd be great at charades right now, bud!" Cat's voice floated from the couch.
Rimmer made sure his eyeroll was greatly exaggerated. Charades? How old are you? Five?
"Rimmer, if I were you, I'd be acceptin' that compliment," Lister strolled to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer, "'cause smeg knows when the next one will come along."
"Exactly!" The Cat sat upright, still holding his fifth plate of fish for the evening. "Take it or leave it, monkey."
Rimmer was about to raise a certain digit towards the feline when the ship jerked violently, sending all four of them airborne. In the split second before he collided with the floor, Rimmer had the horrifying thought that he would be sent hurtling through the ship decks, but it seemed luck was on his side and the holographic sensors detected him in time to prevent disaster.
A potent but brief silence fell over the group, only for it to be broken by the Cat's high-pitched wail of distress. "Aowwwww!"
Lister groaned as he sat up, having been slammed headfirst into Rimmer's bunk. Blood leaked from a cut on his forehead. "Cat, man! You alright?!"
On the verge of tears, Cat pulled himself upright, hands poised in front a suspicious-looking stain on his chest. "I got salmon juices on my suit! This material's dry-clean only!"
Lister swore colourfully. "Seriously? Not a 'are you guys okay'? You complain about yer suit instead?!"
"You expect me not to make my clothes the priority?" Cat exclaimed. "I thought we knew each other, man!"
"Gentlemen, please!" Kryten called from the doorway, searching for an eye that had been knocked out by the force of his fall. "Mister Cat, I promise I will scrub that suit until you'd never know a trout had landed on it."
"Now that's more like it! See, Condom Head gets it!"
Rimmer slowly pushed himself to his knees, instinctively moving to brush his uniform down. He'd forgotten how strange it was to fall as a soft light hologram - he still made contact with the floor/wall/unfortunate living thing, yet he couldn't feel anything.
The ship shook again, with all four crewmen hurtling towards the bunks. Rimmer realised his luck had run out as his torso landed inside his own bunk, with Lister falling straight through his legs. Rimmer cursed silently as he helplessly stared at the bunk above. God, I love reminders about my current pathetic existence.
Lister gasped as he delicately massaged his ribs. "What the hell was that?!"
Rimmer couldn't help but silently groan. Who do you think? The tax office?
"I don't know, sirs, but it certainly warrants investigation!" A one-eyed Kryten helped Lister to his feet, stabilising the human as began to sway slightly. "Suggest we proceed with haste, sirs?"
"Right behind ya, Krytes," Lister hissed, limping towards the doorway.
Rimmer struggled to pull himself up; it was difficult trying to hoist oneself up when one's hands continued to pass through objects. No one's going to ask about the welfare of their senior officer? Alrighty then.
Experiencing a rare thought of ingenuity, Rimmer decided to shuffle himself forwards, using his legs to pull the rest of his body out from the bunk. As undignified as his current position was, he was somewhat glad that no one could touch him to lend a helping hand - it would save him from weeks of teasing.
By the time Rimmer had managed to extract himself from his bunk, the others had already begun the journey to the drive room. He instinctively opened his mouth to yell at Lister for abandoning his senior officer in a time of crisis, only to growl silently when he remembered his predicament. As soon as I get my voice back, he's going on report.
The hologram was taken by surprise as the ship pitched to the port side, sending him flying through the dining table and halfway through the couch. Despite knowing he couldn't scream, Rimmer felt compelled to let out a noiseless cry of frustration. If only I had my smegging hard light drive! I could stop myself from being tossed around more than an Italian chef making pizza dough!
The hologram cringed as his auditory sensors were overwhelmed by the red alert alarm. He sprinted out of the bunkroom faster than a gazelle on steroids, his holographic heart pounding in his ears. Alarms and sirens blared all around him, with steam and various gases spraying form various broken pipes. The red lighting from the warning system casting an ominous glow along the corridor. I shouldn't have got Kryten to change the bulb last time we had a situation like this.
He ran straight past the lift - he didn't feel like having another emotional breakdown in a confined space - and mentally decided to make a beeline for the nearest stairwell. Gasping for oxygen he didn't need, Rimmer forced his feet to carry him along the corridor.
Given he possessed the stamina of a sloth during hibernation, it seemed like an eternity before he came across the first accessible stairwell. He quickly slowed to a stop, panting heavily as he braced himself on his knees. I don't think I've run that fast since I found Uncle Frank down my throat.
Praying silently that there weren't any mutated curries or secret cat residents to be encountered, Rimmer took a deep breath and began to climb the first flight of stairs. I guess this'll make up for all those years of skipping my fitness regime.