Have you ever actually READ any of it?

[Moonlight]

In order to discontinue the derailing of the fan-edits thread, I’m moving our new game of weirdly novelizing sections of Red Dwarf to its own thread.

Since I had the foresight to do this without being asked by more than two people, I get to post mine again and pray that this forum doesn’t fuck up the formatting.

DEMERITS

First there was nothing.

Then there was silence.

The nothing hadn’t always been, it had simply been. But the silence, the silence had a distinct beginning, a distinct now. Nothing was just nothing, but silence implied perception. He was suddenly aware of the empty void in which his presence found itself.

Gradually, stimulus began to seep in, like water droplets through limestone. It began as indistinct tactile input, a subtle twitch in what he knew to be his hand. How he knew it to be his hand, he was unsure. He had never been aware of it until now, yet it was all too familiar. How peculiar.

Suddenly, the totality of bodily sensory input hit him like a cement mixer, and within moments, Second Technician Arnold Rimmer found himself casually cleaning one of Red Dwarf’s myriad chicken soup dispensers with a 14C, his favorite of the pipe cleaners. It had a certain subdued elegance to it that he felt the 14B lacked. Although he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that, just a moment ago, he wasn’t. Not only that he wasn’t here, but that he just wasn’t.

Huh. Odd.

Shaking his head, he quickly dismissed the idea as the sense of dissociation quickly faded. There had been no void, no silence, just another soul-crushing day in the life of Z-Shift. Soul-crushing? Rimmer tutted himself for the disparaging thought. He knew he had to stop letting doubts like that permeate his conscience, and silently vowed to make this the cleanest food dispenser this side of Enceladus.

In, out, in, out, in, out. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but damn if it wasn’t essential. Rimmer longed to be recognized for his efforts. He wasn’t just a lowly technician; he was the bringer of meals, the herald of sustenance. A spaceship was a closed system, and with eleven hundred and sixty-nine souls aboard the flow of food needed to stay constant. If you couldn’t get your soup, one could hardly pop to the next town over. He wasn’t just important, he was necessary. Many other jobs aboard this rust bucket were expendable, but not his.

Speaking of expendable, where the hell was Lister? Had he the audacity to shirk his job on such an important day? Granted, it wasn’t a holiday or any other time one would reasonably expect extra rush on the dispensers, but Lister had made a big speech the previous day about how he’d been neglecting his duties and had vociferously vowed to pull himself up by his boot-straps moving forward. Unless that was sarcasm, which it almost definitely was. Either way, Rimmer was poised to hold him to that promise and issue demerits if appropriate. That is to say, when appropriate.

Rimmer fingered his radio, tempted to broadcast his displeasure at Lister’s absence and order him to show up for work. He knew the lowly man wouldn’t be listening, but somebody else would be. That person would take note of Lister’s lack of response, and they would know. They would know how insubordinate and feckless he was. It was almost too delicious to think about. Rimmer, in an overly exaggerated movement, removed the wired microphone from its catch and slowly raised it to mouth-level.

“Lister?” he said. “I know you’re listening. You were supposed to report for Z-Shift duty an hour ago! If you don’t show up pronto, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Fully expecting no response, Rimmer preemptively issued several demerits. He was, predictably, met with abject silence. Wonderful, he thought to himself, and rounded out the demerit count to a healthy five. Five demerits in a few seconds, that had to be some sort of record.

He silently hoped the JMC Board of Discipline had received the letter requesting his demerits be officially recognized.

Mildly annoyed that nobody on this frequency was butting in on his behalf, Rimmer was surprised as his belt-printer whirred to life and began dot-matrixing a letter. At last! Obviously, Lister had written a formal, groveling apology for his tardiness. He hadn’t been sarcastic after all! Perhaps he was sick today; he certainly hadn’t looked too well that morning. Then again, when did he ever? The printout nearly finished, Rimmer fondly wondered if all his talk of duty and honor had finally gotten through to his subordinate. The paper having completed its journey, he tore it from the feed and indulged its contents.

Seven distinct reactions battled for Rimmer’s expression, muddling together into an ambiguous pile of face. Three words in particular jumped out at him immediately; they consisted of “Lister”, “under” and “arrest”. He paused, coughed several times, and then brayed obnoxiously. Scanning for more amusing words, he found “stealing”, “crashing”, “Starbug”, and “stowaways”. The man had finally flipped! It was hilarious. Truly, gut-wrenchingly hilarious. And considering how little Lister contributed to cleaning soup machines, it was definitely worth the lost manpower.

Having enormously enjoyed the highlights, Rimmer took a minute to properly drink in the letter. Why Navigation Officer Kristine Kochanski had apparently joined him in this misguided endeavor wasn’t instantly clear, but he quickly reasoned that it was simply another case of Lister dragging down everyone around him. After all, Rimmer surely would have passed the astro-navs if not for that incessant humming. He knew this to be as true as anything he could see with his own eyes.

A glimmer in his smile, Rimmer folded the paper and gingerly stored it in his bag with the intent to frame it over his bunk. After so much blood and sweat he had finally won! Doing a little jig, he crouched down and 14Ced the ever-loving hell out of that pipe. The herald of sustenance would go on to fight another day, and without any hangers-on dragging him down.

Twelve hours later, he and Lister would be sharing a prison cell.

Topic

[Dave]

Lovely stuff, Moonlight. 

[Moonlight]

Lovely stuff, Moonlight. 

Thanks, I’m really loving actually feeling any motivation to write a decent amount.

[Dave]

For the longest time, he simply wasn’t. Then he was.

Around three million years had passed – although of course, he didn’t know that straight away – and yet for him, it was like no time at all. It was almost as though he’d been on pause, like someone had flicked a switch and turned him back on, and he was allowed to simply ‘be’ again.

It felt good. It felt right. Although it wasn’t like he’d actually been feeling anything at all for the last three thousand millennia, so a feeling of any kind was a bonus.

As he adjusted to being extant again, his mind went back to the last conversation he’d had with one of his colleagues before he was unceremoniously blipped out of existence. He vaguely remembered being told that this was how it would go – and yet it was still very odd to know that it had happened, that so much time had passed, when for him it felt like the blink of an eye.

As he began to explore the noticeably empty halls and corridors of what was once a bustling, busy workplace, he quickly realised that he didn’t feel quite like his old self any more. He thrived on company, on being with other people – with nobody else around, he was starting to feel a bit like a ghost.

But surely there must be *somebody* else around here, he thought to himself. It wouldn’t make sense for me to wake up to an empty ship. 

That was when he saw the notification on the scanner screen. A gently throbbing green ‘bleep’ that indicated a transport craft was near.

“Aliens!”, he excitedly thought to himself, before immediately reprimanding himself for the illogical thought. Of course it wasn’t aliens – for smeg’s sake you smeghead, get a grip on yourself. Best guess, he posited, it was a small group of travellers from a long-lost mining corporation vessel who had got hopelessly lost in his region of space and stumbled across his facility while searching for their mothership.

As far as he remembered, his best guesses were usually on the money, and a quick check of the computer confirmed his suspicions – a crew of four in a vessel with the registration ‘Starbug’, according to the readout. And thanks to the automated shuttlecraft-capture system that had been put in place so many hundreds of thousands of years earlier – the orange swirly thing, as his mind now for some reason conceptualised it – the ship was already headed straight towards him, its inhabitants already within range.

So that must be them, he thought to himself. That must be me. I’d better get ready to meet them.

“How’m I looking? I’m looking nice!” It was an unusually narcissistic thought that had popped into his head unbidden, but he was right – he did look good in the new outfit that he’d put together.

There was a part of him that loved shiny reflective uniforms, especially green ones, so he’d made sure to factor that in. There was another part of him that favoured comfortable long-johns, so a form-fitting full-body one-piece seemed ideal. And there was yet another part of him that seemed to love loud colours and eye-catching attire, so he’d gone for a you-can’t-miss-it olive-green sparkly bodystocking, to really wow his new friends.

And topping things off, he remembered that part of him was very conscious that the best way to avoid scaring humans that were unfamiliar with advanced technology like him was to adopt a distinctly non-human face, to avoid unsettling them – so the shiny silver robotic baby-face mask was a perfect finishing touch.

Now all that remained was to materialise in front of them dramatically and introduce himself. If he wanted this to be the start of a long friendship – a life-long friendship – he needed to impress them. He’d better put on his poshest, deepest voice and impress them all by showing how much he knew about them already – and maybe physically molesting some of them a little with no prior warning, before inviting them in.

That was the best way to kick things off, right?

[Future Producer of Series IX – aaaaany day now]

[tombow]

Uncle Frank stared into his nephew-in-law’s face. He’d gotten it all wrong .All the signals – everything he thought he’d seen, every cheeky come-on smile and knowing look – had they all been in his head? Now, in the shadows, Arnold just looked scared.

“I…I’m sorry, my boy” he gasped, clearing his throat and backing away. “I thought this was your mother’s room. We’re having an affair, you know”. A terrible lie, but not as terrible as the truth. He rushed away into the dark, leaving the wide eyed, confused Arnold with a lifelong memory to ponder.

[Future Producer of Series IX – aaaaany day now]

… Are you secretly Rob Grant?

[Jonathan Capps]

[Dave]

He was lonely, no doubt about it. Being the sole functioning service robot on a derelict, crewless spacecraft, with nobody to speak to… well, that will get to you after a while. And when that “while” has been three million years, the loneliness really does start to kick in.

Of course, he kept himself mentally busy. He thought often of his old, now long-dead crew – so much so that they almost felt alive in his mind – and he would often daydream about a future in which he was a rugged space adventurer, maybe the ship’s science officer, dispensing wisdom (or at least a best guess) about whatever weird quantum time-travel phenomenon the crew were encountering that week. Was that really such an impossible ambition, even for a robot with a funny walk and an admittedly silly-shaped head to aspire to?

Little did he know that his dreams would soon come true. One quiet afternoon – an afternoon that he spent, as usual, pottering up and down the ship, doing pointless busywork – he noticed a blip on the scanner. The kind of blip he hadn’t seen in three million years. The kind of blip that meant salvation: a living crew, some new friends, a fresh start and a golden future…

As he stared at the scanner, he could make out the ship’s ID. “Red Dwarf”. A mining ship. Not exactly space adventurer material, perhaps, but anything was better than nothing at this point.

As he waited at the doorway to greet his new friends, he really hoped that one of them would be Ronald Littlewood. But what were the odds? Either way, whoever was in the boarding party, they were bound to be hungry for some snacks.

[Warbodog]

Novikov slammed his boot down into the side of Anderson’s head like he was trying to beat the traffic lights at Red Square. With a slight but satisfying crunch, his crewmate and erstwhile friend coughed up blood and a premolar as he mumbled incoherently.

“It’s too late for an apology!” the Russian spat, then fell backwards as his opponent sprang back to life.

“I wasn’t apologising, I was damning you to hell!” the bleeding Welshman avenged, smashing a convenient bottle of JMC Alcopop for punctuation. He lunged at his bunkmate and plotted a fight path to his glaring eyeballs, adjusting the glinting glass shards for maximum perforation of the jelly-like-

“Frank, that’s enough!” yelled a stern Australian voice. Sutherland strode over and removed the offensive weapon from play.

Novikov pointed an accusing finger. “This mudak-“

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikhail!” his superior snapped. “You can both explain it to the captain.”

As the pair were marched down the familiar amber-lit tunnel, Novikov felt confident that the kapitan would see things his way, but it quickly became clear that something was awry. Their commander had never been one for airs and graces, but today she looked particularly casual. Naked, in fact, and conspicuously bald, like a shop dummy for plus-size dresses that had been retrieved from a skip.

Captain Kirk’s gaze seemed distant as a flustered Sutherland stammered through a summary of her subordinates’ disagreement and the fracas she’d interrupted. The captain only blinked to attention when she realised it was her time to respond.
“Okay, here’s what you’re gonna do,” the nude commander grinned. “You two are gonna play a table tennis match and the loser gets reassigned to feminine hygiene product disposal.”

“Sir, with respect, how is any of that relevant?” Novikov interjected, instantly regretting his insubordination when the captain’s manic eyes bore into him.

“Your opponent looks a little worse for wear, Mikhail,” Kirk observed with a bald tilt. “Let’s even it up a bit. While you’re playing, Sutherland and some other random officers of her choice will do some Kraftwerk-style robot dancing in your field of vision to distract you. How does that sound?” Neither dared answer. “Good, now GEDDA FUCK OUTTA MA ORFFACE!” Her puffy face contorted into an insane grimace and her visitors hastily made their way to the ship’s table tennis table, located next to The Hole on X Deck.

[Moonlight]

Resurrecting this thread because I just did a major rewrite of one of the stories I shared here last year and posted it to Wattpad like the zillennial scum I am. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out.

[Warbodog]

Dead Dave

(Disclaimer: Copypasta; don’t actually read)

You know how Red Dwarf has a weird way of counting series?

They skip over series IX, making the numbers inconsistent.

The reason for this is a lost episode that resulted in series IX being aborted.

Finding details about this missing episode is difficult. No-one who was working on the show at the time likes to talk about it. From what has been pieced together, the episode was intended as part of a three-part special, and the title was Dead Dave. The Back to Earth specials were hastily made after, to hide the latter’s existence. It also was written entirely by Rob Grant.

During production of series IX, Rob started to act strangely. He was very quiet, and seemed nervous and morbid. Mentioning this to anyone who was present around Rob at the time resulted in them getting very angry, and forbidding you to ever mention it to Rob himself. I first heard of it at an event where Chris Barrie was speaking. Someone in the crowd asked about the episode and Chris simply left the stage, ending his impressions hours early.

In addition to getting angry, asking anyone who was on the show about Dead Dave would cause them to do everything they could to stop you from directly communicating with Rob Grant. At a book signing, I managed to follow him after he spoke to the crowd, and eventually had a chance to talk to him alone as he was leaving the book store. He didn’t seem upset that I had followed him; he probably expected a typical encounter with an obsessive fan. When I mentioned the lost episode, though, all color drained from his face, and he started trembling. When I asked him if he could tell me any details, he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. He grabbed a piece of paper, wrote something on it, and handed it to me. He begged me never to mention the episode again.

The piece of paper had a website address on it. I would rather not say what it was for reasons you’ll see in a second. I entered the address into my browser and came to a site that was completely black, except for a line of red text – a link. I clicked on it, and a file started downloading. Once the download was complete, my computer went crazy. It was the worst virus I had ever seen. System restore didn’t work; the entire computer had to be rebooted. Before doing this, though, I copied the file onto a CD. I tried to open it on my now empty computer; as I suspected, there was an episode of Red Dwarf on it.

The episode started off like any other, but had very low production values. If you’ve seen the original assembly for The End, it was similar, but less vibrant. The first act was fairly normal, but the way the characters acted was a little off. Rimmer was angrier, Kryten seemed depressed, Cat behaved anxiously, and Lister appeared to have genuine anger and hatred towards his crewmates.

The episode was about the Dwarfers going on a Starbug trip. Near the end of the first act, the Bug was taking off. Lister was slobbing around, as you’d expect. However, as Starbug was about 50 feet out of the hangar, Lister broke the window and was sucked out.

At the beginning of series IX, Rob had an idea that the grimy style of the Red Dwarf world represented life, and that death made things more realistic. Hence why it was used in this episode. The shot of Lister’s corpse was barely recognizable. They took full advantage of Craig Charles not having to move, and made almost photorealistic make-up for his dead body.

Act one ended with the shot of Lister’s corpse. When act two started, Rimmer, Kryten, and Cat were sitting at the scanner table, crying. The crying went on and on; it became more pained and realistic, better acting than you would think possible. The audience laughter started to quieten as they cried, and you could hear murmuring in the background. The characters could barely be made out. They were stretching and blurring, looking like deformed shadows with random bright colors thrown on them. There were faces on the monitors, flashing in and out so that you were never sure what they looked like.

This crying went on for all of act two.

Act three opened with a title card saying one year had passed. Rimmer, Kryten, and Cat were skeletally thin, and still sitting at the scanner table. There was no sign of Holly.

They decided to visit Lister’s grave. As they walked through Red Dwarf, the corridors became more and more decrepit. They all looked like deteriorating sets. When they got to the observation dome, Lister’s body was lying in front of his tombstone, looking just like it did at the end of act one.

The Dwarfers started crying again. Eventually they stopped and just stared at Lister’s body. The camera zoomed in on Rimmer’s face. According to summaries, Rimmer tells a joke at this part, but it isn’t audible in the version I saw, so you can’t tell what he’s saying.

The view zoomed out as the episode came to a close. The tombstones in the background had the names of every Red Dwarf guest star on them. Some that no one had heard of in 2009, some that haven’t been on the show yet. All of them had death dates as well.

For guests who died since, like Lenny von Dohlen and Ron Pember, the dates were when they would die. The credits were completely silent, and seemed handwritten. The final image was the Dwarfers in the science room, like in the series IV publicity photos, but all made up in the hyper-realistic, lifeless style of Lister’s corpse.

A thought occurred to me after seeing the episode for the first time. You could try to use the tombstones to predict the death of living Red Dwarf guest stars. But there was something odd about most of the ones who haven’t died yet.

All of their deaths are listed as the same date.

[Warbodog]

Moonlight’s story was entirely narrated in my head by a 1993 Chris Barrie on audio cassette.
Love how you beta-canoned the Rimmer jacket too.

[Moonlight]

Moonlight’s story was entirely narrated in my head by a 1993 Chris Barrie on audio cassette.

How much do you think he would charge to record it? I need this in my life.

Love how you beta-canoned the Rimmer jacket too.

I shouldn’t admit this, but I was actually just picturing the jacket from Can of Worms.

[Technopeasant]

I am not sure what 1993 Chris Barrie’s rates were is all that useful anymore.

[Dave]

I am not sure what 1993 Chris Barrie’s rates were is all that useful anymore.

[Ian Symes]

Jesus Christ, Warbodog.

[Warbodog]

Writing a cheesy Red Dwarf lost episode creepypasta was too much effort, so I just changed the names in Dead Bart.

[Asclepius]

Resurrecting this thread because I just did a major rewrite of one of the stories I shared here last year and posted it to Wattpad like the zillennial scum I am. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out.

That is absolutely cracking.

I see that a few people down the thread have suggested it would be a dream if Chris Barrie would narrate it. I’ve taken some examples of Chris Barrie speaking, and have used some AI software to try and make that happen. Hopefully you’ll enjoy the results: https://youtu.be/YTumn0SXBD4?si=oxSsb4F9ZqoBHU51

[Moonlight]

Let’s not read too into the fact that I know how to write a character having a breakdown with wild mood swings.

[Technopeasant]

Oh we already have.

[Future Producer of Series IX – aaaaany day now]

We just wanted to be polite.

[Technopeasant]

I buggered that up a bit didn’t I?

[Moonlight]

You’re all bastards. I’d feed you into a woodchipper if people weren’t lacing my water with lithium salts.

[Unrumble]

You’re all bastards. I’d feed you into a woodchipper if people weren’t lacing my water with lithium salts.

[Future Producer of Series IX – aaaaany day now]

[Unrumble]

You’re all bastards.

[Future Producer of Series IX – aaaaany day now]

[cwickham]

[Quinn: Clochebusters World Champion]

[Nick R]

[tombow]

Cat paused in front of his time portal, gazing on the attractive young cat female limping along the corridor on the other side. “the idiot…was me?” he murmured. “C’mon bucko” chuckled Rimmer, in front of his own portal, as he pulled on the “Mungo” overalls. “Holly figured it out – to maintain our infinite existence, we’re all our own fathers!” “Well…” sighed Cat, “a cat’s gotta do what a cat’s gotta do…” he straitened up and brightened. “And I do look too good to resist – these sealskin shoes are good enough to eat!”

[Unrumble]

Cat paused in front of his time portal, gazing on the attractive young cat female limping along the corridor on the other side. “the idiot…was me?” he murmured. “C’mon bucko” chuckled Rimmer, in front of his own portal, as he pulled on the “Mungo” overalls. “Holly figured it out – to maintain our infinite existence, we’re all our own fathers!” 

[Future Producer of Series IX – aaaaany day now]

I thought it was Dungo.

[tombow]

it was typo and I couldn’t edit it

[Moonlight]

it was typo and I couldn’t edit it

[Technopeasant]

I mean, given Mrs Rimmer’s proclivities, perhaps there was also a Mungo.

[tombow]

his real name was Mungo but they nicknamed him Dungo 

[Future Producer of Series IX – aaaaany day now]

[clem]

Rimmer calls him Dennis so Dungo must be a nickname. He was a gardener so might have worked with manure a lot. Maybe it was originally Dennis the Dung Boy and that got shortened to Dungo.

[Quinn: Clochebusters World Champion]

Does gif stitching just overlay them?

[Flap Jack]

Yep. Hopefully “add automatic padding onto gif scenes with mixed aspect ratio sources” is on the list of potential future features to be added to the Smega-Drive, but for now it’s better to download the parts and crop/add padding + stitch together the bits yourself.

By the way, I tried it again myself using the first random 4:3 and 16:9 frames on the homepage, and the 16:9 one was scarily fitting.

[tombow]

As Cat jumped into his portal with a whoop, Rimmer looked at Lister, stepping into his with his best stag-night suit on, and sighed with disgust. 

“what?” said Lister defensively. “you know this has to be done man”

Kris had once told Dave that, when a student on the moon aged just 18, alone and confused, she had an affair with an older man – a cuddly 50 old janitor called Jim. Jim had looked and sounded uncannily like an older version of Dave Lister – in fact, Kris had admitted that the one thing that had drawn her to Dave in the first place was his similarity to Jim.

Of course, Rimmer had been through Kris’ things – he’d seen the one photo she kept – it was obviously Lister himself. He’d used his portal – was using it, right now, to smegging groom her – all in some twisted long game of keeping himself being born for eternity.

“It’s not grooming” came the familiar self righteous whine. “well ok, it is a bit, but…If we don’t hook up now, we won’t date in the future, and I can’t keep humanity alive. This is a service, man” he grunted, zipping his flies up.

“I can’t deny it” said Rimmer coldly. “you have to conceive yourself with her, which means you have to win her trust now. I know. It’s just… have you considered that if this relationship is the human race’s legacy, then it’s not smegging worth keeping around?”

“What about you man?” snapped Lister as he sprayed himself down. “you told me once Dungo took advantage of your mum when she was alone and depressed, watching over the house alone. Now that’s you? And you’re happy with that?”

“What Helen and I have is something you would never understand” sneered Rimmer. “It’s Lady Chatterley’s Lover –an intense affair between a woman of breeding and her high class servant. Way above your intellect”, he continued, as he smeared more compost on himself. “Plus, I have to exist to keep the Ace Project alive in the multiverse”.

“Rimmer man that pongs, why are you putting so much on?”

“mummy – I mean Helen – likes it. The earthy smell gets her off” chuckled Rimmer. He stopped. “We’re disgusting aren’t we? Just two lonely perverts taking advantage of the two women who’ve ever cared for us. Neither of us gives a smeg about the human race, and the Ace Project? That floppy haired, simpering prat?”

“c’mon Rimmer, you – Ace – does a lot of good, he’s defeated the nazis in loads of dimensions now”

“I like the smegging nazis!” sputtered Rimmer, as Lister gave him a hard look. “c’mon Listy, in most of those dimensions they’re not even racist! They’re universes no-one cares about colour anymore, they just want order and trains running on time! That Fuhrer in England we helped Ace drop a giant gerbil on to – Frau Badenock – I liked her!”

“well she didn’t like you man” chuckled Lister, “wasn’t she gonna turn all the holograms off?”

“only because she didn’t know me! Had I the chance to work with her I’d have shown her, there a worthwhile ones like me!”

“Anyway”…sighed Lister. “yeah. See you in an hour Listy” said Rimmer, patting his shoulder as they both stepped into their portals.

[Ian Symes]

G&T turned into an incest fic site so gradually I didn’t even notice.

[Dave]

[Flap Jack]

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” sighed Holly as he took the first few uneasy steps in his new 3000 Series mechanoid housing. “This whole thing really doesn’t interest me, you know.”

“Interest has nothing to do with it.” replied Rimmer in a tone of poorly disguised annoyance, as if he’s sick of having to repeat himself. “You said it yourself: your face was modelled on the greatest and most prolific lover who ever lived. Yet outside of your own design documentation, there’s no historical evidence that this man ever existed. All of the other face options in your database have metadata identifying the exact people in history they were based on, but not yours. You know better than any of us that there’s only one explanation for this – you go back in time with that face, and give your creator the best night of his life.”

“I still think this is a bunch of nonsense you lot came up with so you would feel less judged about repeatedly going back in time to shag your own mums.”

“How smegging dare you, Holly!” protested Lister. “This isn’t about us, this is about the integrity of the time space continuum. Even the small details like the face you chose to display on your screen have to be kept in place, or the whole universe could collapse! Isn’t that right, Kryten?”

“Err, yes. That’s my best guess anyway.” replied Kryten.

“See? Kryten wouldn’t lie to you, would he? Now put on these leather shorts and get in the portal.”

Holly sighed. “… fine.”

“Just don’t overthink it, bud! Have fun!” said The Cat.

“I am sorry to put you through this, Holly.” said Kryten as he inititated the time portal’s start up sequence. “I’m just glad that it’s only the four of you who have had to do this. Cleaning and ironing is my preferred way of keeping the universe in good shape.”

“Ah. Funny you should mention that.” said Lister. “Do you remember when you found out that Professor Mamet designed you in mockery of her ex-boyfriend?”

[Dave]

This thread was meant to be about existing Red Dwarf ideas adapted into the Grant Naylor novel style, not about taking the show’s ideas and adapting them to the Rob Grant solo novel style.

[tombow]

“so let me get this right” said Rimmer. “all this time, this technology has existed, and I’ve never heard of it?”

“from a couple decades after your time” said Hol. “top officers get their genetic material frozen, then if they’re lost in action and bought back as a hard light hologram, the material can be put into their bee to be released during intimacy. A way they can still conceive new heirs.”

“and my “material”? You know the bank rejected me.”

“you left a few tissues in the bin the evening Lister was put in stasis. Remember? You rented Bouncy Milkmaids for your first evening alone?” 

Rimmer blushed. “and i suppose you got the skutters to retrieve them, knowing somehow I’d be important in future? This is all bollocks isn’t it Hol?”

“yeah. I used the timeslides and Kryten with chloroform to get the samples and put them in your mum ages ago. I just thought you could do with a romantic holiday.”

[Unrumble]

[Moonlight]

I can’t leave you kids alone for five minutes, can I?

[Nick R]

G&T turned into an incest fic site so gradually I didn’t even notice.

[Author]

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