Eleven

The first thing Lister's brain processed upon the return to consciousness was pain.

Lots of pain.

So I'm not dead then. Nice. That'll be a good help.

He vaguely heard a moan escape his lips as his head lolled to the side, full awareness of his surroundings slowly returning to him. He came to the realisation that a good chunk of the pain he was experiencing was emanating from just above his eye, and he was suddenly filled with cold dread as he remembered he had just spent some 'quality time' with the simulants. I don't remember much about it…I mean, I don't remember them hittin' me head anyway. I'll have to ask Kryten to do a TWAT scan or whatever it's called when we get out of this.

A warm, wet substance was dripping down one side of his face, and he prayed to whatever deity that may be listening that it wasn't saliva dripping from a man-eating space weevil. His whole body felt as though it had been flattened by Starbug

"Oh, Mister Lister, sir! Thank heavens you're okay!"

"…Kryten?" Lister's voice was hoarse. He struggled to roll onto his back, angling his neck to obtain eye contact with the faithful droid. "…What happened? H-How'd I get back here?"

"We were hoping you could tell us, sir," Kryten answered. "You were gone an awfully long time - we weren't sure what they did to you or if you were coming back-"

"Was kinda hopin' you weren't!" Cat chimed in. "Now we've gotta put up with your manumatic ass 'till Goalpost Head saves us. This sounds like my idea of hell."

"I believe you mean 'masochist ass', sir." Kryten corrected.

Well, excuse me for almost gettin' killed so you didn't have to. Lister was too sore to expend any energy responding to the Cat's hurtful comments. He gently flexed his fingers, cringing as the circulation was quickly restored.

"Sir, what happened in there?"

"I don't remember, Krytes," Lister averted the android's gaze, suddenly ashamed that he couldn't recollect what had happened. "For some reason I keep thinkin' about a knife, a bucket of soapy toads…a-and a rubber chicken. Somethin' tells me I don't want to know."

"Considering that the giant cut present above your eye has been bleeding profusely for the last thirty-six minutes, that's probably wise, sir."

So that's what the warm stuff was. Frowning at the taste of blood in his mouth, Lister gave a small cough before proceeding with his next line of thought: "…No sign of Rimmer yet?"

Kryten's expression darkened. "No, sir, not yet."

Well, smeg. "Do you reckon his hard light drive'll be back online yet?"

"Lie mode engaged: Absolutely, sir, and I'm sure Mister Rimmer is doing the best he can to hasten our rescue!"

It took all of Lister's willpower not to send an array of expletives flying across the room in Kryten's direction. Is it still technically murder if your intended victim is a droid? "Don't give me the lie mode smeg, Kryten. Is he gonna make it here before I get tortured again?"

"Lie mode cancel. I'm so sorry, sir! I didn't want to hurt your feelings," Kryten's voice wobbled once more. "Assuming that he hasn't done anything else to himself, his drive still has another five hours and fifteen minutes before it is completely restored. And besides, you know Mister Rimmer as well as we do, sir. He is…unlikely to come in with guns a-blazing."

"He's saved the day before though, remember?" Lister thought back to how Rimmer recounted destroying the time drive to ensure their future selves never existed, something which he had never thought Rimmer could do without cowering under a table.

"Bud, there's a better chance that I'll be wearing checkered suspenders and a plaid shirt before Goalpost Head actually does something useful!" Cat answered.

"Remember, sir, he is almost certainly incapable of doing anything to help us in his soft light form," Kryten commented. "And without his voice to input commands, he'll be just about as useful as an unplugged toaster."

With a small grunt, Lister turned his head to face the ceiling, ignoring the stars that continued to creep at the corners of his vision. He still wanted to hang on to the small hope that the others were wrong, but their comments hadn't filled him with much confidence. "Guess we'll be prayin' for a miracle then…"

Rimmer refused to let his guard down until he had managed to successfully land all four of Starbug's legs on the simulant ship.

Even then, he still couldn't believe they had allowed him to board. No warning shots, no threatening transmissions; it was as if they were ignoring him, and it left him uneasy. Surely they know I'm here - they've got technology way in advance of ours. This has be part of their plan; I'm supposed to make it onboard, and presumably to the others, before the next stage happens.

Disengaging Starbug's engines, Rimmer gingerly placed his right hand on the arm of the seat. Parts of the worn fabric were felt on the edges of his palm, though he was disappointed how only the faintest of sensations detected on his fingertips.

He swore silently. Why the smeg is this taking so long?! How the hell am I supposed to fire a bazookoid with one hand?! Rimmer ran his left hand through his hair in a fit of frustration. I'm going to have some stern words with Kryten about this.

Another internal dilemma he'd been experiencing was how the others would react to seeing him as Ace again. He'd managed to find a spare wig buried in the depths of Starbug's cargo bays, alongside a mountain of Lister's mutated socks and spare vindaloo containers, though he wasn't sure if he could go through with donning it again.

Even just looking at it felt wrong. He'd tried to brush out the lint with one hand, but time had still taken a toll on the fake keratin strands. The colour was not as vibrant as it had once been; the signature shine had faded significantly, leaving a dull collection of synthetic fibres clutched in his hand.

Then it hit him.

It didn't matter that the wig had aged, for he had aged as well.

He stared at the wig, a small smile creeping across his face. Well, smoke me a smegging kipper.

It took a couple of goes before he managed to ensure it was facing the right way, but he relished the feeling of having the familiar accessory to hide his balding head. After all, he thought, Ace Rimmer can't be seen without hair. The universe might implode if that happens.

With a satisfied sigh, he threw himself out of his seat and tried to remember how Ace walked.