AOH :: MAROONED.TXT|
Red Dwarf III: "Marooned"
From: email@example.com (David K Fraser)
Subject: script: Marooned
RED DWARF Season III Episode 2 - Marooned
1.Model shot. Cargo bay
Starbug stands in the cargo bay. Red alert lights flash, and a siren is wailing.
HOLLY: Abandon ship! Black Hole approaching. Abandon ship...
The siren stops
HOLLY: Oh, god, now the siren's broken. Awooga, awooga. Abandon ship...
2.Int. Starbug cockpit. Day
Throughout the scene, a red light is flasing. HOLLY is on a monitor.
RIMMER: But a Black Hole's a huge, compacted star! It's millions of miles wide!
Why didn't you see it on the radar screen?
HOLLY: Well, the thing about a Black Hole - it's main distinguishing feature -
is it's black. And the thing about space, your basic space colour is black. So
how are you s'posed to see them?
RIMMER: But five of them! How can you be ambushed by five Black Holes?
HOLLY: Always the way, isn't it? You hang around in Deep Space for three million
years and you don't see one. Then, all of a sudden, five all turn up at once.
3. Int. Starbug rear. Day.
KRYTEN and LISTER enter carrying an ornate trunk. LISTER has his guitar slung
over one shoulder.
LISTER: Come on - we've got less than twenty minutes.
RIMMER: Careful...careful...Mind the hatchway! Don't knock it!
LISTER: What'd you want this piece of junk for?
RIMMER: That 'piece of junk' happens to be a Javanese camphor-wood chest. It
belonged to my father. It's got all my valuables in it.
KRYTEN goes out. LISTER opens the trunk and peers inside.
LISTER: I never realised you had so much crap. What's this?
Brings up a handful of fairly hefty wooden soldiers.
LISTER: Toy soldiers?
RIMMER: Toy soldiers? (Laughs.) They've been in our family for years. They're
priceless nineteenth-century replicas of Napolean's Armee du Nord.
LISTER turns the soldiers over in his hand.
LISTER: So you can't change the clothes and that, like you can with Sindy?
LISTER places the soldiers back in the box. Spots something else.
LISTER: And what the smeg's this?
LISTER pulls out a wad of bank notes.
RIMMER: Just what little I've managed to scrimp and scrape, by tossing the odd
copper aside for a rainy day.
LISTER: There must be twenty grand here.
RIMMER: Twenty-four. Look - I thought we were supposed to be getting off the
LISTER and RIMMER step up into:
4: Int. Starbug cockpit. Day.
LISTER: Twenty-four thousand!? And you had the front to borrow money off me to
buy me a birthday present?
RIMMER: It was only fifteen quid.
LISTER: Right. Fifteen quid. And what did I get? A five-quid book token.
RIMMER: Those card's aren't free, you know. I had to fork out for that as well.
LISTER: And you never paid me back. You're tighter than an Italian waiter's
The CAT and KRYTEN come in.
KRYTEN: Blue midget is loaded.
RIMMER: Are you sure you've got everything?
KRYTEN: Just the bare essentials - food and medical supplies.
CAT: Yeah, and I'm just taking the bare essentials, too - thirty-six changes of
clothing and ten full-length dress mirrors.
LISTER: Cat - we're going to be away twelve hours.
CAT: You think I need more mirrors?
LISTER: Come on, let's move it.
5. Model shot
Starbug and Blue Midget leave Red Dwarf and split off. Over, we hear:
HOLLY: Okay, this is the plan: I'll try and navigate Red Dwarf through the
minefield of Black Holes. If all goes well, we'll all rendezvous on the desert
moon Sigma four D.
CAT: What happens if all doesn't go well?
HOLLY: Well, Red Dwarf and everything on it will be compacted to the size of a
small garden pea.
CAT: Bye, bye, Birdseye.
6. Int. Starbug rear. Day.
The control consoles all read 'autopilot'. LISTER is at the table, eating a
curry, turning one of Rimmer's toy soldiers over in his other hand.
RIMMER: Look, please, honestly. they're priceless.
LISTER: I'm just having a goosie.
RIMMER: Look, if you get curry all over them, how's that going to look? What's
Lieutenant-General Baron Jaquinaux of the First Cavalry Division supposed to
be doing with meat vindaloo all over his tunic?
LISTER: It'll make him look more authentic. People'll think he's got dysentry.
LISTER puts them back in the trunk.
LISTER You're obsessed with war, aren't you? You collect toy soldiers, play war
games, read all those stupid combat mags. And half your books are on Patton
and Ceasar and various other gits.
RIMMER: It's about leadership. That's what I admire - the ability to command, to
out-think a worthy opponent on the field of battle.
LISTER: It's so ironic, when deep down you 're such a basic, natural coward.
LISTER: Planet leave, Miranda? That space bar, the 'Hacienda'? When that fight
started up? You were out of that door quicker than a whippet with a bumful of
RIMMER: That was a bar-room brawl! A common pub fight. A shambolic set-to.
LISTER: Which you started.
RIMMER: I just made an innocuous comment, I merely voiced a rumour that
MacWilliams was sexually tilted in favour of sleeping with the dead. I didn't
start the rumour. I simply voiced it.
LISTER: To his face. Right to his face. When he was there with his four biggest
mates. Then you did your Roadrunner act, and left me to face the music.
RIMMER: I could have got hurt.
LISTER: You'd have made a brilliant general, would't you?
RIMMER: Generals don't smash chairs over people's heads. They don't smash
Newcastle Brown bottles into your face and say 'Stitch that, Jimmy'. They're
in the nice white tent, on the top of the hill, sipping Sancerre and directing
the battle. They're Men of Honour.
LISTER: I don't beleive it! You make war sound romantic.
RIMMER: I'll tell you something. Something I've never told anyone. When I was
fifteen, I went to Macedonia on a school trip, to the site of Alexander The
Great's palace. And for the first time in my whole life, I felt... I felt I
was home. This place was where I belonged. Years later, I got friendly with
a hypnotherapist - Donald - and told him about the Alexander the Great thing,
and he said that he'd regress me back through my past lives. I was dubious,
but I let him put me under. It turned out my instincts were absolutely correct
- I had lived a past life in Macedonia. That palace was my home. Because,
believe it or not, Lister, he told me that, in a past incarnation, I was
Alexander the Great's chief eunuch.
LISTER: Do you know something? I believe you.
RIMMER: He didn't say that I was Alexander himself, which is obviously what I
wanted to hear. But it explained everything: I'd lived a previous life
alongside one of the greatest generals in history. No wonder the military's in
LISTER; No wonder you're such a good singer.
RIMMER: Well, maybe it's rot, I don't know. But it's funny - to this day, I
can't look at a pair of nutcrackers without wincing. And why is it, whenever
I'm with a large group of women, I have this overwhelming urge to bathe them
in warm olive oil?
LISTER: I have that urge, Rimmer. It's got nothing to do with past lives.
RIMMER: Well, why is it, then?
LISTER steps up into the cockpit. Stars glint through the front-view window
LISTER: It's because you're unhappy with your own weasly, humdrum existance.
You're looking for something with a bit more...I don't know...glamour.
Behind him we see a flaming meteor hurtling towards them. RIMMER's eyes widen
slightly as panic robs him of the power of speech.
LISTER: Now is what counts - you've got to live life today. Who knows what's
going to happen tomorrow? Who knows what's going to happen in the next five
minutes? That's what makes life so exciting.
The meteor smashes into them.
7. Model shot
Meteor collides with Starbug, sending it spinning into the atmosphere of the
8. Model shot
Starbug overheating as it plummets through cloud.
9. Model Shot
Starbug crash-lands on snowy landscape and screams to a halt.
LISTER:(VO) You see what I mean?
10. Stock footage. Arctic wasteland
Blizzard. Mix to:
11. Model shot
Starbug in snowy wasteland.
12. Ext. Starbug crashed
Starbug's door opens (the rest of what we can see of the vehicle is covered in
snow) and LISTER, wearing a huge, furry anorak, a shovel strapped to his back,
opens the door and fights against the wind and the blizzard to get out. He
manages to open it far enough to get his head out, then the door snaps back, and
Lister's face is shut in the door, contorted out of shape. He finally manages to
push it open and falls out of shot. We see him holding on to the craft, fighting
against the incredibly strong wind, edging his way gingerly to the front. As he
lets go of the ship to unhook his shovel, he gets blown away. He's yanked
completely oout of shot.
We then see him being dragged along the ground on his back, finally smashing
to rest against an ice dune.
We cut to: LISTER crawling on his knees against the wind, using his shovel
like a canoe paddle.
Cut to: LISTER tying a rope around his waist, then tying it to the craft. He
tugs on the rope and tests it. When he feels safe enough, he reaches back for
the shovel. With a snap, the rope breaks and he gets yanked out of frame again.
13. Int. Starbug rear. Night
RIMMER is leaning over the controls. A monitor screen is buzzing with
RIMMER: Mayday! Mayday! Can you read me? Come in, please. Can you read me?
The outer door opens and LISTER stumbles in, followed by a blizzard. He stands
RIMMER: (Without looking up) Still snowing, is it?
LISTER sits at the table.
LISTER: It's useless. You can hardly stand up, never mind dig it out. No luck?
RIMMER: Nothing's getting through.
LISTER: Three Days! They must be looking for us by now. Where the smeg are they?
RIMMER: It's impossible to find us in this weather. They could be ten feet away
and walk straight past us.
LISTER: We're going to die, aren't we? How much food is there?
RIMMER: There's half a bag of soggy Smoky Bacon Crisps, a tin of mustard powder,
a brown lemon, three water biscuits, two bottles of vinegar and a tube of
Bonjella gum ointment.
LISTER: Gum ointment?
RIMMER: Yes, it was in the first-aid box. It's that minty flavour. It's quite
LISTER: It's quite nice if you smear it on your mouth ulcer, but you can't sit
down and eat it.
RIMMER: You may have to.
LISTER: That's it? There's nothing else?
RIMMER: Just a Pot Noodle. Oh, and I found a tin of dog food in the tool
LISTER: (Sighs) Well. Pretty obvious what gets eaten last. I can't stand pot
Noodles. (Pause.) We're going to die, aren't we? Correction - I'm going to die
You're a hologram. you're already dead. You don't need food.
RIMMER: Did you find any wood?
LISTER: There's no wood. There's no vegetation out there. Smeg all. Just a
RIMMER: We can't let that fire go out - it's your only form of heat.
LISTER: I'm going to die, aren't I? God, I'm hungry. I'm going to have the
LISTER: Just one.
RIMMER: You ate less than sixteen hours ago.
LISTER: It's all right for you. You don't even feel the cold.
RIMMER: Take your mind off it. Find something to put on the fire.
LISTER gets up and starts to look for something to burn.
RIMMER: Mayday! Mayday! (To Lister) I wonder why it's 'Mayday'?
LISTER gathers some books from the trunk.
RIMMER: The distress call. Why d'you say 'Mayday'? It's only a Bank Holiday. Why
not 'Shrove Tuesday' or 'Ascension Sunday'? (Mimics) Ascension Sunday!
Ascension Sunday! The fifteenth Wednesday after Pentecost! The fifteenth
Wednesday after Pentecost!
LISTER: It's French, you doink. It's m'aidez. Help me. Muh-aid-ay (Sighs.)
Everywhere I look reminds me of food. Look at these books: Charles Lamb,
Herman Wok, the complete works of Sir Francis Bacon, Eric Van Lustbader...
RIMMER: Eric Van Lustbader? What's he got to do with food?
LISTER: Van. Bread van, meat van, food!
RIMMER: Look, you're getting obsessed.
LISTER: It's these books! It's like someone's put them there to taunt me. Look
at this - The Caretaker by Harold Pinta.
RIMMER: It's 'Pinter'. Stop thinking about food.
LISTER: Take my mind off it. Talk about something.
RIMMER: like what?
LISTER: Come on!
RIMMER: Anything apart from food?
LISTER: Don't talk about food!
RIMMER: I just can't think of another topic.
LISTER: Don't mention topics! They're food! Tell me a story. Any story.
RIMMER: I don't know any stories.
LISTER: Anything. Tell me how you lost your virginity.
RIMMER: My what?
LISTER: Come on. Talk to me.
RIMMER: How I lost it? Well it was so long ago... I was so young and sexually
precocious, I'm not sure I can remember.
LISTER: Everyone can remember how they lost their virginity. It's one of those
things... like everyone can remember where they were when Cliff Richard was
shot. Or when the first woman landed on Pluto. Or when they installed the
gigantic toupee over the earth to cover the gap in the ozone layer. It's just
one of those things you always remember.
RIMMER: Well, I don't. Good grief, you can hardly expect me to recall every
sexual liason I've ever partaken of. What d'you think I am - Marvo the Memory
LISTER: Come on, Rimmer. The truth.
RIMMER: The truth? Not much to tell, really. I've always been a bit of a fish
out of water when it comes to women. Never know what to say. I wasn't very
highly sexed, to be honest with you. I think it was all that school cabbage I
was forced to eat as a boy. Still, the first time... the first time was this
girl I met at Cadet College. Sandra, she was called. We did it in the back of
my brother's car.
LISTER: What was it like?
RIMMER: Oh, brilliant. Incredible. (Goes glassy-eyed.) Bentley convertible. V8
turbo. Walnut veneer panelling. Marvellous machine. So what about you?
LISTER: Michelle Fisher. The ninth hole of the Bootle Municipal golf course. Par
four, dogleg to the right, in the bunker behind the green.
RIMMER: You lost your virginity on a golf course? How did you have the nerve?
LISTER:Iit wasn't in the middle of the Ryder Cup or anything. It was midnight.
RIMMER: Oh, I seeee.
LISTER: Michelle. Michelle Fisher. God, she was gorgeous.
RIMMER: How old were you?
LISTER: Just gorgeous. If she'd have wanted, she could probably have got a job
behind the perfume counter at Lewis's, that's how good-looking she was.
RIMMER: How old were you?
LISTER: She took off all her clothes and just stood there in front of me,
completely naked. I was so excited, I nearly dropped my skateboard.
RIMMER: Your _skateboard_? How old were you?
RIMMER: Twelve!!! Twelve years old!!? You lost your virginity when you were
RIMMER: Twelve?? (Pause.) Well, you can't have been a full member of the Golf
LISTER: 'Course I wasn't.
RIMMER: You did it on a golf course, and you weren't a member?
LISTER: 'Course I wasn't.
RIMMER: You didn't pay any green fees or anything?
LISTER: It was just a place to go.
RIMMER: I used to play golf. I hate people who abuse the facilities. I hope you
raked the sand back nicely before you left. That'd be a hell of a lie to get
into, wouldn't it? Competition the next day, and your ball lands in Lister's
buttock crevice. You'd need more than a niblick to get that one out.
LISTER: Are you trying to say I've got a big bum?
RIMMER: Big? It's like two badly-parked Volkswagens. The only things I ever lost
when I was twelve were my shoes with the compass in the heel and the animal
tracks on the soles. Porky Roebuck threw them in the septic tank behind the
sports ground. I cried for weeks - I was wearing them. I never even thought
about sex when I was twelve.
LISTER: Maybe that's because you used to be Alexander the Great's cheif eunuch.
LISTER starts tearing pages from the book and throwing them on to the fire.
RIMMER: What are you doing?
LISTER: There's nothing left to burn.
RIMMER: But not my books! Don't burn the books.
LISTER: There's nothing else left.
RIMMER: But it's obscene. A book is a thing of beauty. The voice of freedom.
It's the essence of civilisation.
LISTER: (Reads title) _Biggles' Big Adventure_.
RIMMER: Well, perhaps not that one, but you know what I'm saying.
LISTER throws it in the stove and picks up another one.
LISTER: _Complete Works of Shakespeare._ That should be good for a couple of
RIMMER: Three days without food, and the walls of civilisation come tumbling
LISTER: What d'you mean?
RIMMER: They say that every society is only three meals away from revolutiuon.
Deprive a culture of food for three meals, and you'll have an anarchy. And
it's true, isn't it? You haven't eaten for a couple of days, and you've turned
into a barbarian.
LISTER: I'm just burning a book!
RIMMER: It's not just a book. It's the only copy of probably the greatest work
in English literature. Probably the only copy left in the entire universe, and
you're quite happy to toss it on the fire to keep your little mitts warm for
LISTER: There's nothing else to burn.
RIMMER: That's it, then, is it? Goodbye _Hamlet_? Farewell _Macbeth_? Toodle-pip
LISTER: Have you ever read any of it?
RIMMER: I've seen _West Side Story_. That's based on one of them.
LISTER: Yeah, but have you actually read any?
RIMMER: Not all the way through, no. I can quote some, though.
LISTER: Go on, then.
RIMMER: (Declaims grandly) 'Now...' (Long pause.) That's all I can remember.
LISTER: Where's that from, then?
RIMMER: _Richard III_, you moron. The speech that he does at the beginning.
(Declaims) 'Now...' something something something. It's brilliant writing. It
really is. Unforgettable.
LISTER: OK, I'll save it till last. (Holds up another.) _Lolita_. Is it OK if I
RIMMER: Save page sixty-one.
LISTER opens it and finds page sixty-one. RIMMER leans over his shoulder.
RIMMER: That bit.
LISTER: That's disgusting.
He rips out page sixty-one, folds it into his pocket and throws the rest of the
book on the fire.
14. Model shot
Starbug in blizzard. Mix to:
15. Int. Starbug rear. Day.
Works of Shakespeare burning merrily on the fire. LISTER is at the table. He
picks up the dog food can, spoons out a generous lump of dog food jelly, so it
wobbles on his fork. RIMMER is watching him, apalled.
LISTER: And you can take that look off your face: like I'm doing something
disgusting. I'm just trying to stay alive.
RIMMER: You're going to eat the dog food.
LISTER: I haven't eaten for six days. Yes, I'm going to eat the dog food.
RIMMER: I'm sure the dog food will be lovely.
LISTER: This isn't dog food. It's a piece of prime fillet steak in blue cheese
sauce. It's been charcoal broiled in garlic butter. Mmmmm. Just smell that.
It's delicious. Delicious.
He pops it into his mouth and swallows it.
LISTER: Well, now I know why dogs lick their testicles - it's to take away the
taste of their food.
RIMMER: The stove's getting low. Better throw another book on.
LISTER: That's the last one.
RIMMER: You've burnt all of them?
LISTER: When we get through to Act Five of _Henry VIII_, I'm a dead man.
RIMMER: There must be something else to burn.
They both look around. At the same time, their eyes stop on the trunk.
RIMMER: No. It's Javanese camphor wood. It's priceless.
LISTER: There's nothing else left to burn except the trunk and what's in the
RIMMER: Now wait a minute. Not Napoleon's Armee du Nord!
LISTER: Rimmer, get real, man. If it burns, we burn it. What's the least
RIMMER: Not the trunk. My father gave me that trunk.
LISTER: The soldiers, then.
RIMMER: They're ninteenth-century. They're irreplacable. They were hand-carved
by the legendary Dubois brothers.
LISTER: Well, then?
LISTER brings out two huge wads of notes. RIMMER slightly glassy-eyed.
16. Model shot
Starbug in blizzard.
17. Int. Starbug rear. Day
Shot: the stove. Money is burning. Another wad lands on top of it.
RIMMER: How much has gone so far?
LISTER: Five thousand eight hundred.
RIMMER: Five thousand eight hundred!
LISTER throws on another wad.
LISTER: Six grand.
RIMMER: The whole twenty-four grand isn't going to last an hour, is it? (Nearly
in tears) It took me ten years to save it. Ten years!
LISTER: I'd better start unpacking the soldiers.
RIMMER: No. There must be something else to burn. There must be.
LISTER: there isn't. I looked. Listen, I know it's a bummer. I know it must be
heartbreaking. But it's only _stuff_. It's just possessions. In the end,
they're not important. They might go a bundle for some swanky Islington
antique shop - but right here, and right now, all they are is nicely painted
LISTER throws on some more money.
RIMMER: This isn't happening. It's a nightmare.
LISTER: You've got to get your priorities right. It's like those people you read
about who run back into a burning house to rescue some treasured piece of
furniture and wind up burning to death. Nothing is more important than a
RIMMER is looking in the corner of the room.
RIMMER: What about your guitar?
LISTER: ... Except my guitar.
RIMMER: Why didn't we think of it before? We can burn your guitar.
LISTER: Not my _guitar_, Rimmer.
RIMMER: It's made of wood.
LISTER; Yeah, but it's my guitar. I've had it since I was sixteen. It's an
authentic Les Paul copy.
RIMMER: But it's not worth anything. It's just a thing. It's just a possession.
LISTER: Yeah, but it's mine.
RIMMER: How is it any different from my soldiers?
LISTER: It's my life-line. I... I need that guitar. When it gets to me - I mean
the loneliness - when it gets on top of me... it's the only way I can escape.
I mean, I know I'm not exactly a wizard on it, and it's only got five strings,
and three of them are G, but the whole of my life I've never had anything to
hang on to - no roots, no parents, no education...
RIMMER: No education?
LISTER: I went to art college. All I've ever had is that guitar. It's the only
thing in the whole of my miserable smegging life that hasn't walked out on me.
Don't make me burn it.
RIMMER: (Quietly) We've got to.
LISTER hangs his head.
LISTER: (Pause.) Look. this is going to sound pretty stupid... but I'd just like to play one more song on it. One for the road.
RIMMER: Sure, sure. I mean - I'm not enjoying this.
LISTER: I know. I, uh... thanks, man.
LISTER picks up the guitar, and walks off to a fairly dim corner. He strums a
chord. RIMMER is looking at the floor, slightly embarrased. In his most feeble,
plaintive voice, LISTER begins to sing:
LISTER: (Singing) 'She's Out Of My Life... She's Out Of My Life.' (Spoken) My
step-dad taught me this one. First song I ever learned to play. (Sings) 'And I
don't know whether to laugh or cry...'
RIMMER gets up, embarrased.
RIMMER: I, uh, just, uh... (points to the door.)
He walks up to the door.
18. Ext. Crashed Starbug. Blizzard.
Rimmewr walks into the howling blizzard.
19. Int. Starbug rear. Day
LISTER puts down the guitar and nips over to the door to check Rimmer's gone.
Carrying the guitar, LISTER nips over to the trunk, puts the guitar against the
trunk, takes a pencil out of hit top pocket and starts tracing the guitar shape
on the back of the tunk. He picks up a hacksaw.
20. Ext. Crashed Starbug. Blizzard
Rimmer looks at his watch, then back at the ship.
21. Int. Starbug rear. Day.
By now, LISTER has removed a complete guitar shape out of the back of Rimmer's
trunk. He pushes the trunk back against the wall, slips his guitar inside the
green locker on the far wall, then crosses to the stove, and breaks the guitar-
shaped piece of wood over his knee.
22. Ext. Crashed Starbug. Blizzard
RIMMER walking up to the door.
23. Int. Starbug rear. Day
The door opens and RIMMER comes in. LISTER is sitting at the stove, guitar-
shaped pieces of wood burning merrily away.
RIMMER: I don't know what to say.
LISTER: Nothing _to_ say.
RIMMER: You've made a supreme sacrifice. You know that? A _supreme_ sacrifice.
LISTER: Had to be done.
RIMMER: I've been judging a book by it's cover, haven't I? All these years,
that's what I've been doing. But when it comes down to it, you're one heck of
a regular guy.
RIMMER: There's no point in being modest. I know what that guitar meant to you.
The same as that trunk meant to me. If that trunk got so much as scratched,
I'd be devastated. It's not the outward value - for me, that trunk is a link
to the past. A link to the father I never managed to square things with...
LISTER: (Slightly panicky) Is it?
RIMMER: It's the only thing he ever gave me, apart from... apart from his
LISTER covers his face.
RIMMER: But you've shown me, by burning your guitar, what true value is.
LISTER: (Low moan.)
RIMMER: Decency. Self-sacrifice. Those are the things that make up real wealth.
And from where I'm standing... I'm a pretty rich man.
LISTER: Oh, god.
RIMMER: Burn the soldiers.
LISTER: No. Not the soldiers too.
RIMMER: You burnt your guitar. I wish to make a sacrifice, too. Burn the Armee
du Nord. Cast them into the flames: let them lay down their lives for the sake
of friendship. (Sniffs the air) What's that smell?
LISTER: What smell? I can't smell any smell.
RIMMER: (Sniffs) Camphor.
LISTER: Oh, god.
RIMMER: Your guitar was made of camphor wood! It was probably worth a fortune.
Burn the soldiers - burn them right now.
24. Ext. Blizzard
We see two torches in the distance, coming towards us. Over, we hear:
KRYTEN: I can't go on.
CAT: You've got to go on, buddy. We're nearly there.
KRYTEN: I've no strength.
CAT: Come on, you can make it.
They come into view. KRYTEN is pulling the heavily laden sleigh, with the CAT
sitting on it. CAT whips the air.
CAT: Look - there they are. Mush! Mush!
25. Int. Starbug rear. Day
The soldiers are burning away. RIMMER is peering into the stove. After a while
he starts quietly imitatating a trumpet, playing the 'last post'. Finally, he
RIMMER: Au revoir, mes amis. A bientot.
LISTER: Look - there's something I've got to tell you... something awful.
RIMMER: If it's about how you finished off the dog food, I understand.
LISTER: No, it's not about that.
The door opens, and KRYTEN and CAT enter.
CAT: Hey, hey, hey!
LISTER: Cat! Kryten! You made it - you found us!
RIMMER: So where have you been the last six days?
KRYTEN: We rendezvoused with Holly. Then, after two days, when you still hadn't
turned up, I said we should go and look for you.
CAT: We have been everywhere. Fourteen moons, two planets. I've been so worried
- I haven't buffed my shoes in two days.
RIMMER: So - Holly managed to navigate her way through the five Black Holes?
HOLLY appears on KRYTEN's chest moniter.
HOLLY: As it transpired, there weren't any Black Holes.
RIMMER: But you saw them - you saw them on the monitor.
HOLLY: They weren't Black Holes.
RIMMER: What were they?
HOLLY: Grit. Five specks of grit on the scanner-scope. See, the thing about grit
is, it's black, and the thing about scanner-scopes...
RIMMER: Oh, shut up.
LISTER: (Sighs) Come on. Let's go.
LISTER and CAT go out.
RIMMER: Something happened here, Kryten. Something that made us closer. I saw a
side of Dave Lister that I didn't even know existed. He's not just an
irresponsible, selfish drifter, out for number one... He's a Man of Honour.
LISTER comes back in. Looking at the floor, he crosses to the locker.
LISTER: Excuse me.
He opens the locker, takes out his guitar and exits. RIMMER looks at the door,
then at the fire, then, slowly, he turns to his trunk.
RIMMER: Open the trunk.
KRYTEN goes to open the trunk. We shoot through the guitar-shaped hole at the
back of the trunk as the trunk opens, and RIMMER peers in. No expression.
Without looking up:
RIMMER: Kryten, would you get the hacksaw and follow me?
KRYTEN: Where are we going?
RIMMER: We're going to do to Lister what Alexander the Great once did to me.
----------------------------------- The End ------------------------------------
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