RED DWARF Season IV Episode 5, "Dimension Jump"

1 Ext.

Open to a view of two reddish-yellow planets and dramatic music. Pan

down to the front planet to show a city dome of some sort, then cut to

the inside of a large greenhouse structure. RIMMER's mother walks out

from between some foliage.

RIMMER'S MOTHER: Arnold? Arnold!

YOUNG RIMMER: (Age 7, hanging upside-down from a tree) I'm here, Mother!

RIMMER'S MOTHER: (Approaches him.) Ah. You know your father and I have

been terribly worried about your progress at school.

YOUNG RIMMER: Yes, Mother.

RIMMER'S MOTHER: You just haven't been getting the marks we think you're

capable of.

YOUNG RIMMER: No, Mother.

RIMMER'S MOTHER: Well, a few days ago I went to see the headmaster. He

said it might be in your best interest if you were to be kept back a

year -- if you were to stay in Junior D for another year.

YOUNG RIMMER: Oh.

RIMMER'S MOTHER: Is that all you've got to say?

YOUNG RIMMER: Well, it is quite difficult to talk when you're tied

upside-down to a tree.

RIMMER'S MOTHER: Have you been playing with Howard and Frank?

YOUNG RIMMER: Yes.

RIMMER'S MOTHER: Well, what on Earth were you playing?

YOUNG RIMMER: Well, I said it was such a shame we hadn't got a swing, and

they said they could make one. But I didn't realize they was going to

make one out of me.

RIMMER'S MOTHER: Well, that's nice, darling. Anyway, your father had a

word with the headmaster and we explained how much we wanted you to be

a test pilot in the Space Corps, like your brother John, and how this

could damage your chances. We got this this morning. (Opens a

letter.) You realize how important this is. This decision could

completely alter the whole course of your life.

On screen: "Twenty Years Later."

2 Ext. Experimental spacecraft.

Cut to external view of a small, sleek spacecraft,

3 Int. Spacecraft cockpit.

We see a silver-helmeted pilot as music plays reminiscent of the film Top

Gun.

4 Ext. Base.

Shot of the craft landing at a base, with "Space Corps Test

Base/Mimas/Saturn" superimposed. We see the pilot from behind, walking

down a corridor past a few uniformed men who applaud. Pan to his front,

as he removes his sunglasses to reveal a strong, cocksure, handsome

man... ARNOLD RIMMER. He walks up to SPANNERS, who looks just like

LISTER but with short hair, a moustache, and eyeglasses, and a more

"generic" English accent.

SPANNERS: Woah! Welcome home, Ace!

ACE: Bless you, Spanners, old friend, it's good to be back.

SPANNERS: Well, how's she behave?

ACE: The lightship? Like a frolicking filly in a harvest-time pasture.

How you and your boys down in Engineering got that crate to break the

light barrier I'll never know.

SPANNERS: Well, some people might say it's the devilishly brave and

handsome guy in the cockpit that did it.

ACE: Tish, pshaw and nonsense. Any old twit can hug the event horizon of

a black hole, then loop-de-loop 'round the spinning singularity at

twice the speed of light, then slam the engines into reverse and blast

out of an imploding nebula! It's you and your guys with the magic

wrenches down on Engineering, Spanners. You're the ones that break the

records.

SPANNERS: You'll be going to this party thing they're throwing for you

tonight, I suppose?

ACE: Good god, no. Heroes' welcomes with 21-gun salutes in front of the

entire Admiralty send me to the land of Nod, Spanners. I'll be down in

the mess with the salt-of-the-earth engineering boys as per usual. See

you there at 1900?

SPANNERS: See ya' later, Ace. (They clasp hands and Ace strides off.)

What a guy!

Further down the corridor, ACE RIMMER encounters a chaplain who looks

remarkably like the CAT, dressed in plain coveralls and sporting a pipe

and grey moustache.

CAT: Ah, welcome home, son. You've been in all of our prayers, you know?

ACE: Bless you, Padre. How's little Tommy?

CAT: He's pulled t'rough. Be on his feet in no time, t'anks to you.

Sitting by his bedside day after day, night after night, holding his

hand, reading him stories...

ACE: You know me, chaplain. Any old excuse to get out of dinner with the

Admiral. Listen, 1900 we're having a bit of a bash down in the mess.

It would mean a lot to me if you were there.

CAT: Well, thank you, son.

ACE: 1900

CAT: Mmm. (Ace continues down the corridor.) What a guy!

5 Int. Outer office.

Cut to the outer office of some superior officer. ACE strides in and is

greeted by the secretary, MELLIE, who bears a not-so-surprising

resemblance to HOLLY, but with a whole body and shorter hair.

MELLIE: Say, you dog, you're back.

ACE: Did you ever doubt it, when I've got someone like you to come back

to?

MELLIE: Ooo, if only it were true. What are you doing lunchtime?

ACE: Not sure. Why?

MELLIE: Because if you're interested, I'll be in my quarters, covered in

maple syrup.

ACE: I'm sorry, Mellie, I don't fraternize with the staff.

MELLIE: I resign.

ACE: I'll be there at 1300.

ACE enters the inner office, which is occupied by BONGO, who could be

KRYTEN if only he were a tad more mechanical and had much squarer

features.

BONGO: You're back.

ACE: 'Fraid so.

BONGO: Had the feeling you might be. Rubber shares went up this morning.

ACE: You wanted to see me, Bongo?

BONGO: Ever hear of a thing called the dimension theory of reality?

ACE: Doesn't that run along the lines of, there is an infinite number of

parallel universes where every possibility exists?

BONGO: It's along those lines, yeah. The basic tenet states that for

every decision that's made, the alternative decision is played out in

another reality.

ACE: So?

BONGO: So, the lab boys have come up with a drive that can break the

speed of reality.

ACE: Those boffins have hammered together a crate that can cross

dimensions? When do I launch?

BONGO: It's a one-way ticket, Ace. There's no coming back.

ACE: I'm free at 1500.

BONGO: You do realize, this is a prototype -- there's no way of knowing

if it'll even get there.

ACE: Where's there, exactly?

BONGO: You'll be transported to an alternative reality, a reality where

there's another Arnold Rimmer. Some decision was made at some point in

your life where he went one way, and you went the other. You might

find he's quite different to you.

ACE: Sounds like quite a caper.

BONGO: You'll do it?

ACE: I'm a test pilot in the Space Corps, Bongo. It's my job to do it.

BONGO: I know that this prob'ly won't interest you, but I'd hate myself

for the rest of my life if I didn't at least suggest it.

ACE: Suggest what?

BONGO: If you're interested, I'll be in my quarters at lunchtime, covered

in torama* salada.

ACE: I didn't know your bread was buttered that side, Bongo.

BONGO: It isn't. I've been happily married for 35 years. It's just, a

chap like you can turn a guy's head.

ACE: I'm sorry, Bongo. Lunch is...on Mellie.

BONGO: Would it make any difference if it was...hummus?

ACE: I'm sorry, Bongo. I'm strictly "butter-side-up."

BONGO: Understood. (ACE leaves the office.) What a guy!

6 Int. Prototype's hangar.

MELLIE, SPANNERS, BONGO and the chaplain are lined up to watch it take

off.

CAT: God speed and bless you, son!

ACE: (In cockpit) All systems check. Let's get this cart up into the big

black. Ignition...chocks away... 'Bye, Bongo. 'Bye, Spanners. 'Bye,

Padre. 'Bye, Mellie. Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast.

ALL: 'Bye, Ace!

The prototype ship launches and moves away.

7 Int. Sleeping quarters.

Inside a dim cabin. RIMMER is asleep on the bottom bunk, LISTER is lying

on the top bunk, and KRYTEN is standing with a fishing hat and a large

net. KRYTEN holds his finger to his lips as LISTER, wearing fishing

lures in his hat, quietly gets out of bed and gets a tackle box from the

corner.

RIMMER: Lights! (Room brightens.)

LISTER: What?

RIMMER: What are you doing?

LISTER: (Innocently) What are we doing?

RIMMER: Yes, what are you doing?

LISTER: Just nipping down to the cinema, to catch the midnight movie.

RIMMER: What, dressed like that?

LISTER: Yeah. Going to see Jaws.

RIMMER: You're going fishing, aren't you? That ocean planet we passed

two days ago. You're going fishing without me.

LISTER: Oh, come off it, man. Don't be ridiculous.

The CAT walks in, also wearing fishing garb, although of a terribly

fashionable sort.

CAT: Hey, what are you doing with the lights on? Come on, let's get out

of here before --

RIMMER: I don't believe it. All three of you.

CAT: What's he talking about?

LISTER: I dunno. For some reason he's got this crazy, wacked-out idea

that we're all going on a fishing holiday.

CAT: A fishing holiday?!

RIMMER: (Picking up a note from the table, reading it) "Dear Rimmer, We

have gone on a fishing holiday to the ocean planet we passed two days

ago. We tried to wake you but couldn't. See you in three weeks.

Lister, Kryten, and Cat."

KRYTEN: Oh, please, sir. They forced me to do it. I had no choice.

LISTER: Kryten!

RIMMER: Why did you want to go without me?

LISTER: We didn't want to go without you. We just thought it wasn't your

scene. I mean, fishing, that's boring, isn't it?

RIMMER: I love fishing! The glow of the dawn, the line arcing into the

water...

LISTER: That's it! That's exactly the reason we didn't invite you.

There's no fish.

KRYTEN: That, at least, is true, sir. We sent down a search probe and

there is no marine life on the entire planet.

LISTER: We're just gonna sit out on Starbug, dangle the rods over the

side and have a few cans, you know, chill out.

RIMMER: I don't believe anybody'd want to go on a fishing holiday where

they know there's no fish.

LISTER: What, we used to do it all the time, back home. We used to go

down to the canal. Never any fish in that! We used to go condom

fishing. I swear! One time I caught this two-pound black ribbed

nobler! It was about that big! (Holds hands about half a meter

apart.)

RIMMER: Why didn't you just say, "Dear Rimmer, We're going on a fishing

holiday and we don't want you to come?"

CAT: See, that's what I said we should say!

LISTER: (To the Cat) Shh!

RIMMER: I don't know what it is about me. All my life, it's been the

same old story. It's not easy, you know, to come in every night, look

in that mirror, and see a guy nobody likes.

CAT: How do you think we feel? We got to look at it all day!

LISTER: (Shushes the Cat.) Look, we just thought you wouldn't want to

come.

RIMMER: I tried to be liked, god knows I tried. I regaled you with

amusing stories of when I was treasurer of the Hammond Organ Owners'

Society. You never laugh. I offer to talk you through my photo

collection of 20th century telegraph poles. You've always got some

excuse! None of you like morris dancing! Would that break your

hearts, every once in a while, the four of us getting our knees in the

air -- the jingle of bells, the clonk of wood on wood? But no, every

time I suggest it you all pretend to be ill.

LISTER: You've got it wrong, man. We just thought you wouldn't want to

come. Now we know you do, great, you can come. The way you're going

on about it, it's like some major conspiracy, we've been planning it

for days. We haven't.

RIMMER: Really?

LISTER: Really.

RIMMER: All right, then, I'll come. I'll just get changed. Holly?

HOLLY: (Appears on the screen wearing a fishing cap.) Oh, who woke him

up?

8 Model Shot.

Starbug leaves Red Dwarf and flies through space.

RIMMER: (VO) Steady now, Kryten.

KRYTEN: (VO) Yes, sir.

Shift view to cockpit of Starbug, Kryten piloting, Rimmer sitting next to

him.

RIMMER: Best to get there in one piece than to rush it and cause an

accident, eh?

KRYTEN: I have passed my test, sir; I am a fully qualified pilot.

RIMMER: (Pointing) Mind that star!

KRYTEN: Wha- That star is over two light years away, sir. We're nowhere

near it!

RIMMER: There's no percentage in being a boy racer, Kryten. Okay, you've

passed your test -- Mind that planet!

KRYTEN: Which planet?

RIMMER: (Pointing) That planet!

KRYTEN: That's- That's the planet we're heading to, sir.

RIMMER: Excellent. Excellent. Plot an orbital course, we'll be there in

no time.

KRYTEN: Yes, sir, I have done, sir.

RIMMER: Yes, and get the second stage under way.

KRYTEN: I already have done, sir.

RIMMER: But you haven't correlated the data with the main computer banks,

have you?

KRYTEN: Yes, sir, I have, sir.

RIMMER: You know- You now your trouble, Kryten?

KRYTEN: What, sir?

RIMMER: You're a git.

Shift view to the back compartment, where Lister and the Cat are seated.

CAT: Stupid. Three weeks stuck with Captain Yawn.

LISTER: Look, it wasn't my fault. I could've sweet-talked our way out of

it if you hadn't've blown the whole gaffe.

CAT: Me? What did I do?

LISTER: I could've sweet-talked my way out of it, but oh, no, you had to

come blundering in with your size 12's.

CAT: You are so two-faced! Why haven't you got the guts just to tell the

dude nobody likes him?

LISTER: Oh, yeah, great. Brilliant. What'm I supposed to say? "Excuse

me, man. D'you know you're about as popular as a horny dog at a Miss

Lovely Legs competition?"

CAT: That's what I'd do! I'd say -- (RIMMER walks in.) Hi, buddy, how's

it goin'?

RIMMER: Agh, I just had to get out of there. He's driving me nuts! I

cannot stand front-seat drivers. Well, come on, there's not a lot

going on in here. We're on holiday! Let's cheer things up a bit. How

'bout some music? I've brought my Hammond CD's with me. How about

"Reggie Wilson plays the Lift Music Classics?" (LISTER shakes his

head.) What about "Sounds of the Supermarket: 20 Shopping Greats?"

CAT: Has anyone seen the keys to the medical cabinet? I feel a sudden

urge to suffocate myself with a two-pound black ribbed nobler.

LISTER: Not Reggie Wilson, please, Rimmer.

RIMMER: You don't like Reggie Wilson? What? Not even "Pop goes Delius"

or "Funking up Wagner?"

LISTER: I prefer something slightly more melodious, like the long, drawn-

out death rattle of a man suffering from terminal flatulence.

RIMMER: Come on, you bores. Let's do something. How about we all sing

campfire songs? (Singing) Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya -- Everyone!

Kryten! -- Kumbaya, Kumbaya.

HOLLY: (Appearing on the screen) Purple alert, purple alert!

LISTER: What's a purple alert?

HOLLY: Well, it's sort of like, not as bad as a red alert, but a bit

worse than a blue alert. Kind of like a mauve alert, don't want to say

"mauve alert."

RIMMER: Holly! Wipe the rabid foam from your chin and start again.

HOLLY: There's some sort of disruption to the time-fabric continuum. At

least, I presume that's what it is, it's certainly got all the signs.

There's this big wibbly-wobbly swirly thing that's headed straight

towards us.

RIMMER: (Runs forward to cockpit. To KRYTEN) What is it?

KRYTEN: I don't know, sir. Whichever way I maneuver it follows us! It

seems to be locked in on us. Wait -- there's something coming out of

it. It's going to hit us! Collision course!

ACE's ship comes out of the swirly thing, headed straight for Starbug.

Alarms sound.

KRYTEN: Good god! Emergency, emergency! Adopt crash procedure!

RIMMER: (Runs back to rear compartment.) Where's the card? Who's got the

card?!

LISTER: What card?

RIMMER: The plastic card, the plastic card with the cartoons of the crash

procedure on it!

LISTER: Don't panic, man!

RIMMER: It should be in the netting behind the seats. Haven't we got to

sit behind a woman clutching a baby? What's the drill?!

LISTER: Look, I know what is it!

RIMMER: What?

LISTER: Sit down, tuck your head between your legs and brace yourself.

RIMMER: (Bracing) Now what?

LISTER: Then you open the in-flight magazine and start reading. Thing

is*, the articles act as a sedative. I mean, look at this: "Contents

List: Salt, an Epicure's Delight; Classic Wines of Estonia; Flemish

Weaving the Traditional Way." (To the CAT, whose head is lolling) Don't

fight it, man, let it take you.

RIMMER: How can you be so mind-bogglingly flippant? Don't you know

what's going to happen? We're going to crash!

LISTER: You've got to stay calm! It's a well-known fact, the more

relaxed you are, the less likely you are to be injured.

KRYTEN: Good luck, everybody, here it comes!

ACE's ship strikes Starbug a glancing blow.

LISTER: (Reading) The ancient Egyptians were great believers in salt.

CAT: (Reading) When most people think of classic wines, they are unlikely

to consider the Estonian reds, yet Estonian grapes are among the

fruitiest and most subtle.

RIMMER: (Reading) Since the beginning of the 13th century, Belgium has

been the home of some of the most remarkable weaving to come out of

northwest Europe.

Starbug crashes on the ocean world below, crashing through a jagged pile

of rock and landing in the water. KRYTEN comes back to the others. Only

RIMMER is still in his seat; LISTER has been thrown behind some debris

and the CAT is lying on the floor under more junk.

KRYTEN: Is everyone all right?

RIMMER: Yes, thank god, I'm fine.

LISTER: (Standing up) Cat!

CAT: Oh, it's bad, buddy, it's real bad. (LISTER and RIMMER uncover

him.) See what I mean? (Points to his leg.) Red with apricot. I look

like a jerk. I'm bleeding an unfashionable color. If I'd known I was

going to get my leg crushed I'd've worn white. It goes with

everything.

LISTER: Is anything broken?

CAT: Yeah. All the stitching's come away, and the lining's ripped.

Somebody, please, get me a tailor!

LISTER: Kryten, get the First Aid box. We have to clean this up, make

sure he doesn't get gangrene.

CAT: Gangrene? You think I might get gangrene?

LISTER: Yeah.

CAT: Hey, that might work! Green with apricot -- I think I could pull

that off!

KRYTEN: It's a break, sir. Quite a bad one. I'm going to have to snap

the bone back into line, and there's no anaesthetic.

LISTER: Here, read the in-flight magazine.

CAT: (Reading) "Salt: an epicure's delight. The salt on a typ--" (His

leg makes a cracking sound as ACE sets it.) Oooh, my god!

KRYTEN: Did it hurt?

CAT: No, I'm talking about the article! Have you done my leg yet?

RIMMER: Holly, what's the damage?

HOLLY: (Appearing on the screen, tilted 45 degrees clockwise) It doesn't

look good. We've lost the port engine, the starboard engine's packed

up, the fuel line's severed, we're taking in water through the hull,

we've lost the landing jets, half the electric's out, and the elastic's

snapped on the furry dice.

RIMMER: What does that mean in real terms?

HOLLY: Well, it means you got a more tasteful cockpit. but unless you

fix that starboard engine in the next 40 minutes we're going to start

sinking.

RIMMER: Anything we can do?

HOLLY: We could try to hire a dance band and get it to play "Abide With

Me."

LISTER: I'm going to have to go out there and fix the engine.

RIMMER: You don't know anything about engines!

KRYTEN: Besides, there's a 40-knot gale out there. You'd have to be

insane to even attempt it. Only a fool or a hero would even consider

it.

9 Ext. Ace's craft.

10 Int. Ace's cockpit.

ACE: Bingo! Down there, they've ditched into the drink. I'm bailing

out, Computer!

COMPUTER VOICE: (Just like HOLLY's) But, Ace, it's a suicide mission!

ACE: I caused the smash, should apologize. Only manners. Bring her

'round for another pass.

COMPUTER VOICE: Please, Ace, don't go. I love you.

ACE: Stiff upper modem, old girl. Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for

breakfast.

View shifts back to Starbug as ACE walks in.

ACE: Name's Commander Rimmer. Arnold Rimmer. Friends call me "Ace."

I've come from another dimension. Explain later. But first of all,

let's get you out of this pit. (To KRYTEN) What do they call you,

matey?

KRYTEN: Uh, Kryten, sir.

ACE: Series 4000 mechanoid, am I right? Salt of the Space Corps. (To

LISTER) Spanners!

LISTER: Eh?

ACE: I'm sorry, you reminded me of a fellow I once knew. What's your

handle?

LISTER: Lister. Dave Lister.

ACE: Of course it is. Put it there, Dave. You look a gr3eat bloke to be

in a scrape with. (Looks at the CAT) What about the guy in the sharp

suit?

LISTER: He hasn't got a name; we just call him Cat.

ACE: Looks like you bought yourself a broken leg there, Cat. I love the

Cuban heels. (Looks at HOLLY.) Who's the beautifully* delicious,

stunningly gorgeous computer?

HOLLY: Holly. (Swoons off side of screen.)

RIMMER walks in.

ACE: My god, it's me, only much more handsome! Well, looks like I'm

superfluous. Old Arnie'll have you out of here in no time!

LISTER: He's a hologram. He can't touch anything.

ACE: (To RIMMER) Dead. eh? Well, commiserations, old man. What a

crashing bore that must be.

RIMMER: You're me?

ACE: Don't quite understand the science, but it's got something to do

with us living identical lives up until a certain point, where a

decision was made, and you went one way, I went the other. (To all)

Still, can't hang around chin-wagging all day. Let's get this box up

into the air, shall we? What's your plan, Arn?

RIMMER: I haven't got one.

ACE: Okay, right, well, um... I suggest this: the starboard engine is

repairable, but it's a two-man job. Any volunteers?

LISTER: Yeah, okay, count me in. I've got a window in my schedule this

afternoon.

ACE: Not so fast, Davy boy, you leapt in so quick you didn't give Arnie

here a chance to speak. He was just about to volunteer, weren't you,

Arn?

RIMMER: No, I wasn't.

ACE: Okay, well, um, let's get cracking, shall we, Dave? What's the

starboard engine's thrust-to-input ratio, Arn?

RIMMER: What's that?

ACE: Well, you can work it out: what's the craft's inertia rating?

RIMMER: I don't know.

ACE: Well, what's the p.s.i.?

RIMMER: I don't know!

ACE: Oh. Okay, we'll work it out when we get there, shall we? Come on,

Dave, better grab a brolly, there's a bit of a drizzle outside.

KRYTEN: (To ACE) Sir, can I have a word in private?

ACE: Of course, old friend! Excuse us.

ACE and KRYTEN move into the cockpit and KRYTEN closes the door aft.

ACE: What's the prob, Kryters*?

KRYTEN: Well, I have a limited understanding of medicine, sir, but it's

plainly obvious even to me that your left arm is broken in several

places.

ACE: Took a bit of a tumble in the landing. It's only a scratch.

KRYTEN: I cannot allow you to go out in this storm, sir. Not with your

arm in that condition. I must insist you allow me to go in your place.

ACE: I see. (Turns away from KRYTEN.) The Series 4000 isn't waterproof,

is it?

KRYTEN: That's besides the point, sir.

ACE: Look, I'll tell you what we'll do. (Turns around and punches

KRYTEN, who falls into the pilot's seat.) Sorry, old chum, no option.

(Returns to the aft compartment.) Arnie, Kryten's taken a bit of a

whack. I want you to rewire his circuitry and bring him back on-line.

RIMMER: How?

ACE: You don't know how to do that?

RIMMER: No.

ACE: (Turning away) Come on, Dave, let's catch a breath of fresh air.

(To RIMMER) Smoke me a kipper -- can you do that? -- I'll be back for

breakfast.

ACE and LISTER head out, and RIMMER gives ACE's back a middle-finger

salute.

11 Ext.

Cut to outside, in a raging storm, where LISTER and ACE are standing on a

sort of catwalk along Starbug's hull.

ACE: (Shouting) What's your favorite music, Dave?

LISTER: Eh?

ACE: Keeps your spirits up if you* sing a song.

LISTER: I like rasta* Billy Skank.

ACE: Right!

LISTER cries out as he slips and falls through the railing. He grabs the

rail and hangs off the side of the catwalk. ACE dangles his broken left

arm down to him.

ACE: Grab my arm, Dave! Grab my arm! (LISTER does, and hauls himself

back up.) 'Fraid I'm going to have to do something a bit sissy now:

black out. (Slumps against LISTER for about three seconds.) Sorry

about that! Let's get cracking*! (Singing) Whether you like rasta,*

Billy -- Go on, Dave, sing that song!

LISTER: (Singing) Whether you like OBrasta,* Billy...

12 Int. Starbug rear section.

CAT: (Muttering) Paisley with stripes. That's nice. Green anoraks with

fuzzy collars, they're great.

KRYTEN: Oh, sir! He's delirious!

CAT: Oh, rubber trousers, held down with bicycle clips. Wow!

RIMMER: "Commander Rimmer!" I ask you. "Ace!" Barf city. I bet you

anything he wears women's underwear. They're all the same, this type,

you know, Hurly-burly, rough-n-tumble macho marines in public, and

behind closed doors he'll be parading up and down in taffeta ballgowns,

drinking mint juleps, whipping the houseboy.

KRYTEN: Sir, he's you! It's just that your lives diverged at a certain

point in time.

RIMMER: Yes, I went into the gents and he went the other way.

KRYTEN: I assume, sir, you are making fatuous references to his

sexuality. If I may point out, if --

ACE and RIMMER come in, jubilant, and do a little celebratory dance like

professional athletes sometimes do after winning a match.

LISTER: Yes! We did it!

ACE: A wooga, a wooga, a wah, a wah, a wooga, a wooga, a wah!

ACE: (To LISTER) What a team! How you got that housing clear I'll never

know.

LISTER: Come on, Ace, it was you! I could never have reconnected that

fuel line.

ACE: Well, I wouldn't have been able to do it if you hadn't been holding

my ankles.

LISTER: Well how could you hang upside down and fix the starboard engine?

It was totally brutal!

ACE: What a team.

LISTER: What a team!

RIMMER: Now I know where I've seen you two! Weren't you the double-

action centerfold in July's issue of "Big Boys in Boots?"

ACE: Now, look here, Arnie. You can say what you like about me, but I

won't hear a word against Skipper here.

RIMMER: Skipper?

ACE: A man like him deserves a nickname. I thought "Skipper" sat rather

well.

RIMMER: "Ace and Skipper?" You sound like a kid's TV series about a boy

and his bush kangaroo!

ACE: Don't listen to him, Skipper. Let's get this tea chest back up into

the stars and back to the small rouge one, eh?

RIMMER: Yeah, the sooner we get back the sooner you two can climb into a

nice, hot, soapy bath and play "spot the submarine."

KRYTEN: Sir -- the Cat -- I don't think he's going to last much longer!

The CAT is on the floor, all four limbs in the air. View changes to

Starbug landing inside Red Dwarf, then the CAT being wheeled along on a

gurney.

CAT: Bry* nylon underwear. Sock suspenders. Suits with cardigans!

KRYTEN: Oh, sir, he's delirious! His leg's all swollen. I- I think he

may lose it.

LISTER: Lose his leg?!

KRYTEN: I fear so. The operation to save it is beyond my expertise.

CAT: Lose my leg? Hey, that's terrible. None of my suits will fit!

ACE: Kryten, I'll need 500 cc's of corticoadrenaline, two pints of

plasma, a laser scalpel, and some kind of tissue sample a microboliton*

will do.

RIMMER: (Disgusted) Oh, my god!

ACE: Field microsurgery: all part of basic training in the Space Corps

Special Service. I'll go scrub up.

RIMMER: I'll go and throw up.

Fade to view of LISTER and RIMMER's cabin. RIMMER is there, and LISTER

walks in.

RIMMER: How's the Cat?

LISTER: Oh, Ace did it. Cat's fine now, he's just sitting up in bed

looking through some swatches. Trying to find the material he likes

for his dressings. I don't know how Ace does it. He's been on his

feet for 36 hours, he's still laughing and joking. What a guy. He's

just nipped off to teach Kryten how to play the piano. Amazing dude.

RIMMER: So, is it simple registry office, or a full church do for you

two?

LISTER: I don't understand your attitude, Rimmer. He's you!

RIMMER: He's not me, I'm me. He's a me who had all the luck, all the

chances. all the breaks that I never got.

LISTER: No, it was just a single incident. And your lives went off in

completely different directions. It's incredible to think that one

decision in your childhood could produce such drastically different

people.

RIMMER: Right. He probably got to go to some really great school, while

I was lumbered with Io House. He got to meet all the right people,

greased his way up the old boy network, towel-flicked his way into the

Space Corps, Masonic-handshook his way into flight school, and brown-

tongued his way up the ranks.

LISTER: You'd think you'd be pleased that somewhere, in some other

dimension, there's another you, another you doing really well for

himself.

RIMMER: Oh, come on. How'd you feel if some git arrived from another

dimension, another Lister, with wall-to-wall charisma and a Ph.D. in

being handsome and wonderful?

LISTER: Hey, man, I am that Lister!

RIMMER: No, come on, how would you feel if there was another Lister doing

a hell of a lot better that you are?

LISTER: There is! Ace knows him. That's why he called me Spanners when

he first came in. In Ace's dimension, he's a flight engineer in the

Space Corps, married to Christine Kochanski, twin boys, Jim and Bexon*.

I made up for him! Whatever he did that I didn't, he deserves the lot.

For me it makes sense, him having all this stuff. To think that in

every dimension, every possibility is played out -- hell, there's

probably a really, really weird dimension where you're better-looking

than me.

RIMMER: Well, it just makes me bitter. You know I've always had this

thing about not getting the breaks. Well, there's living proof of what

I could've achieved if I'd gotten the one he got.

ACE: (Calling in from corridor) Skipper, got a mo'?

RIMMER: Go on, he's probably picked a ring.

LISTER goes out to the corridor, where ACE is just finishing sewing up

his own left arm.

ACE: Skipper, I've decided I'm not going to stay.

LISTER: Why?

ACE: Him and me. It would never work. I just can't stand to be near the

man. To see myself so warped, so bitter, so weasely. The man's a

maggot.

LISTER: So where're you going to go?

ACE: Just out there. I can't go back, But there's a billion other

realities to explore. A billion other Arnold Rimmers to meet. Maybe

somewhere there's one who's more of a pain in the butt than him. But I

doubt it.

LISTER: Well, good luck, man. And, look, don't be too hard on Rimmer.

You got the break, he didn't. He's just bitter.

ACE: D'you know what that break was? At the age of seven, one of us was

kept back a year, the other wasn't. (Gestures to knot on his arm

stitches.) Put your finger on that, will you, Skipper? (Tugs sharply

on thread and breaks it.)

LISTER: And that's the only difference? Rimmer went down a year, and you

stayed up?

ACE: No, I was the one who went down a year. By his terms, he got the

break. But being kept down a year made me. The humiliation... Being

the tallest boy in the class by a clear foot. It changed me, made me

buckle down, made me fight back. And I've been fighting back ever

since.

LISTER: While he spent the rest of his life making excuses.

ACE: Maybe he's right. Maybe I did get the lucky break... I'll grab my

things and be off, Dave. Smoke me a kipper, Skipper, I'll be back for

breakfast.

ACE walks off along the corridor. We shift to see RIMMER hunched over

next to a robot arm which is holding a line attached to something big

suspended over a doorway.

RIMMER: Ha, hah. (To robot arm) Ready? (Arm nods up and down.) I'll

smoke him a smegging kipper.

ACE passes through the rigged doorway.

RIMMER: Now!

The robot arm pulls the line, and nothing happens. ACE looks up over the

doorway at the big object still suspended there and shakes his head.

Closing shot is ACE's craft leaving Red Dwarf to the accompaniment of

another Top Gun theme.

ACE: In the decades that followed, Ace Rimmer searched countess realities

and met thousands of different Arnold Rimmers. However he never

encountered an Arnold Rimmer as deeply sad and worthless as the one

he'd met aboard Red Dwarf. His impossible search continues...

RIMMER'S VOICE: It's Wednesday night; it's amateur Hammond organ recital

night. Okay, take it away, skutters!

The end theme song is played as on a Hammond organ, rather stylized, with

plenty of repetitive background and no vocals.

The End