1 Ext. Crash site. Night.
Fires are burning. KRYTEN is trapped in some wreckage. He's injured,
with one eye dangling from some wires to his eye socket, his left arm
mangled, etc.
2 KRYTEN's View. Static.
Words and lettering are superimposed over the static:
MODEL: KRYTEN(C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| ERROR FINDING SERVER................|
| ERROR FINDING SERVER................|
|ERROR FINDING SERVER................|
| ERROR FINDING SERVER................ |
| ERROR FINDING SERVER................|
|ERROR FINDINGSERVER................|
||
| NO PANACEA |
*-------------------------------------------*
CPU: Remain calm Kryten. This is your CPU speaking. There has been an
accident. Both your legs have been crushed beyond repair.
MODEL: KRYTEN(C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: |
||
| OVERVIEW:72%|
| OPTICALS:35%|
| AMBULATION: 100%|
|SCANNING...................|
||
| CONDITION: MAUVE|
*-------------------------------------------*
CPU: Your ambulatory system has been destroyed, and your life expectancy
is currently estimated at 67 minutes.
MODEL: KRYTEN(C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000 INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| POSSIBLE RESPONSES: |
||
| REFER TO QUALIFIED SERVICE PERSONNEL.|
| LIMITED FRONT LINE REPAIR ROUTINE:|
| CANNIBALISE AND RECONFIGURE,|
| CHECK TRADE-IN PRICE AGAINST A SERIES 5000|
| MODEL.|
||
| CONDITION: MAUVE|
*-------------------------------------------*
CPU: If there is any further news we will keep you updated. In the
meantime, here is a little music.
Light muzak plays and KRYTEN goes offline.
MODEL: KRYTEN (C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000 INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
||
||
|OFFLINE|
||
||
*-------------------------------------------*
CPU: Your auto-repair systems are now able to restore visuals.
3 The Crash Site. Later.
We see KRYTEN half buried under the remains of Starbug, talking into a
small microphone.
KRYTEN: Kryten personal blackbox recording. Time: unknown. Location:
unknown. Cause of accident: unknown. Should someone find this
recording perhaps it will shed light as to what happened here.
My short term memory has been erased. This I ascribe to the proximity
of the magnetic coils from Starbug's rear engine.
He pauses to look around a bit.
KRYTEN: Secondly, due to the proximity of the magnetic coils, my short-
term memory appears to have been erased. This, combined with the
erasure of my short-term memory, has has left me a little disoriented,
disoriented, disoriented.
A reminder visual flashes in front of his eyes:
MODEL: KRYTEN (C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000 INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| POSSIBLE RESPONSES:|
| |
| REFER TO QUALIFIED SERVICE PERSONNEL.|
| LIMITED FRONT LINE REPAIR ROUTINE:|
| CANNIBALISE AND RECONFIGURE, |
| CHECK TRADE-IN PRICE AGAINST A SERIES 5000|
| MODEL. |
| STOCHASTC ANALYSIS |
| FUEL TANKS WILL XPLODE |
| 67 |
| MINS |
| OUTLOOK: OBLITERATIVE |
*-------------------------------------------*
KRYTEN: 67 minutes!! I'd better get out of here!
MODEL: KRYTEN (C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000 INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: |
| |
| OVERVIEW: 80% |
| OPTICALS: 35% |
| AMBULATION: 100% |
| SCANNING........... |
| |
| REMEDIAL ACTION REQUIRED |
| |
| CONDITION: MAGENTA |
*-------------------------------------------*
KRYTEN tries to lift the metal beam that covers him but fails. He pauses
to think.
KRYTEN: Of course.
KRYTEN takes a torch cutter and cuts off his damaged left hand.
Whistling, he takes the hand, places it on his chest, removes his
dangling right eye and places it on the middle finger.
KRYTEN: Can you hear me?
The hand "nods".
KRYTEN: Find an ore sample pod. There should be plenty strewn around the
crash site. Initiate the homing procedure and bring help. OK? Good
Luck boy. Go on.
The hand crawls off his chest and KRYTEN waves goodbye.
4 SFX Shot.
From KRYTEN's POV we see the hand crawl away over the remains of Starbug,
then KRYTEN returns offline.
5 Model Shot.
Shot of pod flying towards Red Dwarf.
6 SFX Shot. Int. Red Dwarf.
The hand is trundling down a corridor.
7 Int. Red Dwarf Drive Room.
A sleepy LISTER enters, wearing a robe.
LISTER: OK. I'm here... What's the beef?
HOLLY: We've got a visitor.
LISTER: What?
HOLLY: A pod arrived about 20 minutes ago. Something was in it, but it's
broken free.
LISTER: Any ideas?
HOLLY: Well, I don't want to spread any panic or alarm.
LISTER: Whaddya mean, you don't wanna spread panic and alarm?
HOLLY: Well, you've always had this thing against tarantulas, haven't
you?
LISTER: (Worried) Tarantulas?
HOLLY: I mean that you've never been overly fond of them as a species,
have you?
LISTER: Well, no.
HOLLY: And the prospect of waking up and finding one crawling over your
clammy, naked, helpless body has always filled you with a kind of cold
dread?
LISTER: Well, yeah. Wotya trying to say to me, Holly?
HOLLY: I'm saying it might not be your night. Look at this. This is the
best shot the security cameras could get.
Shot of the hand crawling up a corridor.
LISTER: Where is it now?
HOLLY: We lost it.
LISTER: What does Kryten think?
HOLLY: Kryten's off moon-hopping with Rimmer. Radio link's down. I'll
keep trying.
The hand crawls into the drive room and obviously starts using LISTER's
leg as a ladder. LISTER tenses up. The CAT wanders in.
CAT: So what's the problem? Hey, you OK? You look tense.
LISTER: (Typing) > HELP
> Something is crawling up my leg. I think it's a taranshula
CAT: You're playing that dumb adventure game.
LISTER: > It's in my boxers. It's making a nest
CAT: Then buy a potion from Gandalf, the master wizard. That's what I
usually do.
LISTER: > I'm SERIOUS.
CAT looks down, then looks up again, a rather tense expression on his
face.
CAT: (Typing also) > It has an eye the size of a meatball
LISTER: > Kill it
CAT: > How?
LISTER: > I can't think straight. I've got a taranshula with an eye the
size of a meatball setting up home in my joy department. Help me.
CAT: > I'm scared
LISTER: > YOU'RE scared. How d'you think I feel?
CAT: > You haven't SEEN it!!
LISTER: > The lower half of my body has gone numb.
CAT: > That's probably for the best.
LISTER: > It's moving
> Oh *#%^**!!!!
KRYTEN's hand climbs up onto the desk and goes to the computer terminal.
HAND: (Typing) > Hello.
> Kryten in danger. No time to explain. Follow.
The hand crawls off. LISTER and the CAT exchange relieved looks.
8 Model Shot.
Starbug flying through space.
9 Crash Site.
As seen through KRYTEN's eyes. LISTER is leaning over him, concerned.
LISTER: Kryten man, take it easy. I'm gonna getcha out of there.
KRYTEN: My legs, I can't feel them.
LISTER: Yeah, they're trapped under this stanchion. I'm gonna have to
cut you in two.
KRYTEN: Begging your pardon, sir?
MODEL: KRYTEN (C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000 INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: |
| 72% |
| |
| |
| |
| CONDITION: TAUPE |
*-------------------------------------------*
LISTER: Kryten, man. Keep still. I'm trying to draw a line here. I
don't want it to go all wonky. I want as much of you as possible.
MODEL: KRYTEN (C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000 INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: |
| 72% |
| |
| |
| |
| CONDITION: MARIGOLD |
*-------------------------------------------*
KRYTEN sees LISTER light a welder's torch and lower a visor over his
head.
MODEL: KRYTEN (C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000 INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: |
| 72% |
| |
| |
| |
| CONDITION: HELIOTROPE |
*-------------------------------------------*
KRYTEN: Sir, a couple of brief points. Firstly, you are not a qualified
service engineer and consequently sawing me in two will invalidate my
guarantee. Secondly, I wouldn't trust you to open a can of sardines
that was already open.
LISTER hits him with a hammer and KRYTEN display goes blank.
10 Int. Starbug Mid-section.
We see the CAT's face through KRYTEN's eyes.
MODEL: KRYTEN (C) DIVADROID
SERIES: 4000 INT. 2340
*-------------------------------------------*
| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: |
| 27% |
| |
| |
| |
| CONDITION: TANGERINE |
*-------------------------------------------*
CAT: Oops. You're right. He really isn't dead. I owe you twenty.
Cut to show scene from more normal perspective: KRYTEN is lying on a
couple crates. LISTER slides out from underneath him (between the
crates) just like a car mechanic.
LISTER: Kryten, you OK?
KRYTEN: (Twisting his fixed left arm) I think so, sir.
LISTER: There's a few bits and bobs left over, but it's always the same
when you try a bit of do-it-yourself, isn't it?
KRYTEN: Where's Mr. Rimmer?
CAT: We were just gonna ask you that.
With a grunt LISTER and CAT lift KRYTEN to his feet.
LISTER: What happened?
KRYTEN: Well, there are gaps. I remember Mr. Rimmer spotted an S3 planet
on the scope and wanted to claim it on behalf of the Space Corps. As
usual the ceremony consisted of planting the flag and singing all 23
stanzas of the Space Corps Anthem. Then the planet started to erupt
around us, which, frankly, came as something of a relief.
LISTER: A moon quake?
KRYTEN: Worse. It was as if the entire planet was reshaping,
terraforming itself as we watched.
LISTER: And then?
KRYTEN: Then things got a bit sketchy. I remember an explosion and then
blackness. And then I remember Mr. Rimmer screaming. I have an image
of his face twisted with fear, pain, anguish, dread -- absolutely
mortified.
CAT: Did someone suggest he pick up the tab for lunch?
KRYTEN: Something took him. Something awful.
LISTER: Can we track him, Holly? Can you get a trace on his lightbee?
HOLLY: Got 'im. Click and a half due south.
KRYTEN: Suggest we continue the journey by land, sir. I'll lower the
caterpillar tracks.
He starts walking backwards towards the cockpit.
KRYTEN: I think I've just worked out what that missing circuit board is
for, sir.
11 Model Shot.
Shot of Starbug from the outside as it moves across the surface of the
planetoid, through a forest.
12 Int. Starbug Cockpit.
CAT: This is one weird place. Strange animal noises, unbearable stench,
squelchy underfoot. (To LISTER) It's just like your laundry basket at
the end of the month.
LISTER: Get anything?
KRYTEN: My guess: this is a Psi-moon.
CAT: Psi-moon?
KRYTEN: An artificial planetoid. It tunes into an individual psyche and
adapts its terrain to mimic his mental state. In this instance I
believe it reconfigured itself using Mr. Rimmer's subconscious as a
template.
LISTER: What are you saying to me, Kryten?
KRYTEN: We are interlopers inside Mr. Rimmer's mind.
A loud roar erupts from outside of Starbug.
CAT: This sounds like a 12-change-of-underwear trip.
LISTER: If this planet's Rimmer's mind, what is it that took him?
KRYTEN: All his neuroses. All his personal demons will be incarnated
here -- made flesh.
LISTER: Example?
KRYTEN: Well, each person's mindscape is unique but we could well
encounter, say, Mr. Rimmer's lust personified as some kind of
slobbering, rampaging beast.
LISTER: Rimmer's lust monster?! Urrgh.
KRYTEN: Every individual's mental landscape is dominated by one drive.
In some cases it might be ambition, in others greed, envy, or the
desire to please. Whatever it is that took Mr. Rimmer, we can only
pray that its intentions are benign.
LISTER: Aw, c'mon, he can't be in that much danger. I mean, he's a
hologram.
KRYTEN: Not here. Here he will have a physical form until he leaves and
any danger he may be in will be very real indeed.
13 Ext. Psi-moon. Night.
RIMMER is dressed in robes, wearing a crown of thorns, strung up on a
cross. The cross is in a cart which is being dragged along by little
druid-like people with red eyes who are wearing black robes.
RIMMER: Look, I don't know who you are, or what you think you're doing,
but I demand my right to a phone call.
The procession stops.
RIMMER: Yes, I thought that would stop you. I thought the threat of
legal action would have you running for cover.
RIMMER is now being dragged along by the arms.
RIMMER: Look, I'm trying to keep my temper, but you really are pushing
your luck now, my laddins.
14 Int. Dungeon.
RIMMER is chained to the wall.
RIMMER: Is this the British Embassy? Does it even look the remotest bit
like the British Embassy? I want to know who you are, what I'm doing
here, and I want to know now!
DRUID: In accordance with the appetites of the Dark One, the viscous
ruler of this domain, we, the hooded legions, proffer up this sacrifice
to slake the vile depraved thirstings of the Unspeakable One.
RIMMER: Well that's cleared that one up.
Two blonde maidens, wearing very little and carrying little pitchers,
walk in.
RIMMER: Ohhh! Thank God. Thank God. There were some very, very strange
men running around in black hoods with drums and rather unconvincing
red eyes. Thank God you're here. You know, I actually thought I was
in the most awful danger.
They rip his robe off and leave him standing there wearing nothing more
than sack cloth to cover his private parts.
RIMMER: Is it me or has it suddenly got rather hot in here?
15 Int. Starbug Cockpit.
LISTER: What's happening? Why have we stopped?
KRYTEN: I don't like the look of that swamp, sir. I don't think it will
support the 'Bug. I suggest we continue the journey on foot.
LISTER: You mean go out there?
CAT: Out into Rimmer's subconscious?
HOLLY: According to the signal we're almost on top of him. Shouldn't be
more than 2 or 3 hundred meters.
LISTER: Remember, it's Rimmer's mind out there. (Throws a bazookoid up
and catches it.) Expect sickness.
16 Int. Dungeon.
RIMMER is being caressed and covered with oil.
RIMMER: I'm a second technician in the Space Corps. I'm briefed to give
you my name and number and nothing more. I don't know who you are or
what you think you're playing at, but I'm not going to give you
anything else.
You can oil me all you like, you can use your tongues and your full
sensual lips to caress my erogenous zones onto a plateau of sexual
ecstasy. But I'll tell you now. This nut's not for cracking.
However, far be it for me to change your game plan, if you absolutely
insist on using erotic persuasion to achieve your devious ends, then so
be it. Just have a large Quatrofamagio pizza with extra olives ready
at the end.
The maidens start to leave and walk up a set of stairs to a gong.
RIMMER: Err, where are you going? Err, what are you doing? My God! Are
you going to take a flying leap?
MAID: We are going to summon the Master.
RIMMER: The Master?
MAID: You have been prepared for him.
RIMMER: This Master character -- and I acknowledge that I may not want to
know the full answer to this one -- but why does he want me oily in
particular? Obviously, whatever he has in mind is facilitated by my
being slippery and pliant, yes?
MAID: He always likes his victims to be oiled. An oiled body is so much
better for conducting electricity.
RIMMER: Not the best news, but it could have been worse.
The MAID sound the gong.
17 Ext. Swamp Of Despair. Night.
The Boys from the Dwarf are paddling across a bubbling swamp. Gas fires
burn around them and they are being watched by the hooded legions.
18 Ext. Outside the Fortress Of The Unspeakable One. Night.
They land the boat at a crumbling jetty and climb up onto the beach.
LISTER: Why I ever agreed to go for a stroll in Rimmer's psyche I will
_never_ know.
They come upon a sign that reads: SWAMP OF DESPAIR.
CAT: Aw terrific. This gets better and better.
LISTER: Is it just me or are those frogs saying, "Useless?"
FROGS: Useless, useless, Rimmer, Rimmer.
CAT: Hey look at this! You've got a huge great blood sucking leech on
your neck.
He pulls it off and examines it, and shows it to LISTER.
CAT: It's got a human face.
LISTER: It's Rimmer's mum!
KRYTEN: Here, come quickly. I think I've found a metaphor.
LISTER: A what?
KRYTEN: Look at all these gravestones.
LISTER: "HERE LIES SELF-RESPECT, DIED AGE 24".
KRYTEN: They're all aspects of Mr. Rimmer's personality which are dead.
"GENEROSITY, DIED AGE NINE." "SELF-CONFIDENCE TAKEN FROM US, AGE
TWENTY-TWO."
LISTER: "HONOUR, GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN, DIED AGE TWELVE."
CAT has found a small one that reads CHARM.
CAT: Look at this. This one's minute.
LISTER: Check this one. This one's freshly dug.
KRYTEN: Who's it for?
The tombstone for an unfilled grave reads, HOPE.
KRYTEN: Oh! Psychologically speaking, Mr. Rimmer may be in far bigger
trouble than any of us ever suspected. If we don't get to him before
this grave is filled, we may never get out of this nightmare.
19 Int. Dungeon.
The UNSPEAKABLE ONE emerges from a pit in the floor. We never more than
a glimpse of it, but its breathing sounds just like Darth Vader's.
RIMMER: Boy, am I glad to see you. You must be the Unspeakable One.
Just to fill you in, there's been a gigantic administrative cockup.
Some of your staff have _somehow_ mistaken me for a virgin.
UNSPEAKABLE ONE: Stop your putrid whining you dact tuft of rectal pubic
hair.
RIMMER: Sorry. Yes, I do tend to jabber on a bit when I'm nervous.
The UNSPEAKABLE ONE gets a branding iron from a fire. The brand is 'H'.
RIMMER: I've never been partial to physical torture. It's actually
always been one of my... worst nightmares actually.
UNSPEAKABLE ONE: Now, all your nightmares will come true here. All of
them.
20 Int. Tunnel.
LISTER: He's got to be somewhere near here. We should be right on top of
him.
A loud roar disturbs them.
CAT: Whatever it was, let's hope it's had lunch.
KRYTEN: It's right below us.
RIMMER: (VO, from below) Who are you?
LISTER: (Lister finds a grate) Here.
They crouch down and peer through a grate on the tunnel floor. Through
the holes, they can see RIMMER, chained to the dungeon wall.
RIMMER: (VO) And why are you being so horrible to me?
21 Int. Dungeon.
UNSPEAKABLE ONE: It is you who created me, nurtured me, help me grow
strong. I am the part of you that hates yourself. I am your self-
loathing.
RIMMER: My self-loathing?
UNSPEAKABLE ONE: Is it not true that you despise yourself? That you
detest your own incompetence and stupidity? That you hold yourself in
contempt for your countless failures and disappointments? Is it not
true that you feel nothing but the deepest, blackest rancor for that
walking vomit stain the world calls Arnold Rimmer? Is it not true?
RIMMER: (Weakly) Yes.
22 Int. Tunnel.
LISTER: Look, we've got two choices. Either we go in with bazookoids
blazing and try and somehow get him out of there or we sit here like
lemons and watch him get tortured.
CAT: Anybody got any opera glasses?
LISTER: Set bazookoids to kill-stuff-and-mount -- we're going in.
(Signaling to KRYTEN to help him with the grate) Kryten?
23 Int. Dungeon.
The UNSPEAKABLE ONE is approaching RIMMER, weilding the burning brand.
Suddenly, the posse arrives, bazookoids blazing. They pound the
UNSPEAKABLE ONE with wave upon wave of bazookoid fire. The roof starts
to collapse around them.
UNSPEAKABLE ONE: Is it my turn now?
The UNSPEAKABLE ONE has seemingly suffered no ill effects from the
bazookoid fire.
LISTER: (Panicky) Reload!
KRYTEN: But sir, another barrage of bazookoid fire could start a
rockslide and bury us all!
LISTER: Reload!
RIMMER: You'd risk your lives for _me_?
KRYTEN: Of course. You're part of the crew.
The UNSPEAKABLE ONE roars as if in pain and disappears back down into the
hole.
RIMMER's chains disappear and his uniform returns.
RIMMER: What happened?
LISTER: Weird.
CAT: Where'd he go?
KRYTEN: There's an old android saying which I believe is peculiarly
appropriate here.
The others, unnoticed by KRYTEN, sneak up the stairs to leave.
KRYTEN: In binary language it goes something like this:
001100111011000111100, which roughly translated means, "Don't stand
around jabbering when you're in mortal danger."
He looks around, realises that he needs to follow his own advice, and
makes off after them.
24 Ext. Outside The Fortress Of The Unspeakable One. Night.
RIMMER: Which way?
KRYTEN: Well, we go right at the Swamp of Despair, straight past the Wood
of Humiliation and then hard left at the Chasm of Hopelessness.
CAT: You're a weird guy, you know that?
25 Ext. Swamp Of Despair. Night.
A shot of the boys paddling back across the swamp to Starbug.
26 Int. Starbug Mid-section.
The boys enter. The others are glaring at RIMMER.
RIMMER: Why're you all looking at me like that? Like, as if this is all
my fault? Have you any idea what kind of day I've had? I've been
kidnapped, stripped, oiled, menaced, manacled, licked, nibbled,
chained, tortured, humiliated, and I nearly had a knobbly thing the
size and shape of a Mexican agabe cactus jammed up where only customs
men dare to probe.
CAT: Don't you know what this place is?
RIMMER: Yes, it's a hell hole. It's a nightmare. It's a stinking
infested pit of putridness.
LISTER: Rimmer, it's _your mind_.
KRYTEN: He's right, sir. This is a psi-moon. It's terrain was
landscaped by _your psyche_.
RIMMER: So... So what are you saying to me? That thing... that, that
beast... that lives inside my mind?
KRYTEN: Metaphorically, yes, sir.
RIMMER: Self-loathing? I don't loathe myself. What is there one could
possibly loathe about me?
KRYTEN: Would you like the list, sir?
RIMMER: What list?
KRYTEN: Well. There's the fact that you were despised by your parents
for failing to achieve their standards; the fact that your three
brothers were all such high flyers in the Space Corps and you ended up
servicing chicken soup machines; there's your inability to form long
term relationships with anyone; your cowardliness; your lack of charm,
honour, or grace; and the awful knowledge that throughout your entire
life no one has truly liked you because you are so fundamentally
unlikeable.
RIMMER: Oh, that!
KRYTEN: Please don't interrupt, sir. I'm only halfway through my list.
Now where was I? Oh yes--
LISTER: I think he's got the point, Kryten.
RIMMER: God, I'm such a mess.
Starbug shudders.
LISTER: What's that?
HOLLY: Trouble. We've hit quicksand. We're being sucked down.
LISTER: Hit the retros.
HOLLY: Can't get any lift, but they're keeping us stable. Ten minutes
before they burn out.
CAT: OK. I say get into the jet-powered rocket pants and junior-birdman
the hell out of here.
KRYTEN: An excellent and inventive suggestion, sir, with just two tiny
drawbacks: A. We don't have any jet-powered rocket pants; and B.
There's no such thing as jet-powered rocket pants outside the ...
outside the fictional serial Robbie Rocket Pants.
CAT: Well that's put a crimp an otherwise damn fine plan.
HOLLY: Hang on. I'm getting a powerful energy emission.
27 Int. Starbug Cockpit.
The group hurries in from the back.
UNSPEAKABLE ONE: (VO) Hand over the worm and your lives will be spared.
My quarrel is not with you. It's with that excremental smear who
cowers amongst you. If you attempt to shield him, then I shall unleash
the full terrible fury of my hooded hordes against you. You have ten
minutes.
28 Int. Starbug Mid-section.
RIMMER walks out of the cockpit, followed by LISTER.
LISTER: Where are you going?
RIMMER: Where do you think I'm going? You heard him! If I don't hand
myself over he's going to throw everything he's got at Starbug.
LISTER: What? You're really going to give yourself up?
RIMMER: No. I'm going down to the engine room to cower behind one of the
boilers. And I suggest you all find ingenious places to tremble behind
too.
HOLLY: If you want my opinion the only way anyone's to get out of here
alive is by working out some way of killing that thing.
KRYTEN: How? Bazookoids were totally ineffective against it. It's
invulnerable.
RIMMER: We're finished.
Starbug shudders again and sinks some more.
HOLLY: Increasing retros to max. Now stable.
KRYTEN: Now wait a minute. Hmmm. (Clears throat, then turns to RIMMER.)
This is all your fault, you know, you little glob of terburculatic
sputum.
Starbug shudders again and sinks even further.
KRYTEN: Ah hah! Interesting. (Laughs) Sir, you are a cruddy little scud
ball with all the innate lovability of an itchy veruka.
Starbug shudders again.
KRYTEN: Excellent. Mr. Lister, Cat -- confabulation in the cockpit.
They leave for the cockpit and RIMMER gets up to follow.
KRYTEN: (To RIMMER) Ah, not you, sir.
29 Int. Cockpit.
KRYTEN: Sirs, I think I have it. The real enemy is not out there, it is
in Starbug with us. The real enemy is inside Mr. Rimmer's head.
CAT: Nice plan. So we remove his head and everything's cool, right?
LISTER: No, wait a minute. That's gone right up my flagpole, that has,
Kryten. I'm saluting that one.
CAT: What?
LISTER: When we first drove back the beast in the cavern, it wasn't the
bazookoid fire the forced him into the pit. It was when you told
Rimmer we wouldn't desert him.
KRYTEN: Precisely.
LISTER: So if we can make Rimmer feel wanted, feel cared about...
KRYTEN: If we can make him feel good about himself, somehow restore his
self-esteem and his pride, that would automatically vanquish the self-
loathing beast, or at least debilitate it long enough for us to break
free of this quicksand and get off this God forsaken psi-moon.
CAT: How do we make him feel good? What is there about him to feel good
about?
LISTER: We've got to tell him we love him.
CAT: Arrrrgh, you're sick! I want no part of this depravity!
KRYTEN: He must not suspect we are insincere. Our lives depend on it.
Ready?
CAT: I'll never be ready.
30 Int. Mid-section.
RIMMER is sitting slumped on a packing crate, his face a rictus of shame,
fear, and self-pity. The door to the cockpit slides open. CAT, KRYTEN
and LISTER, framed in the doorway, put on what they probably believe are
sincere-looking smiles. They look constipated.
LISTER: Listen, we've been talking and the three of us have decided to
stay with you and face the danger. All for one and that, you know?
RIMMER: Really?
KRYTEN: Sir, I'd just like to take this opportunity to say that you are a
very beautiful person.
LISTER: What he means is, that we're all facing certain death here and I
think it's about time we let each other know exactly how we feel about
each other.
RIMMER: You think that's a good idea?
They all gather round RIMMER. LISTER sits down beside him, and KRYTEN
sits on an adjoining crate. CAT stays standing at a safe distance.
LISTER: Its just that guys generally aren't terrific at ... you know...
KRYTEN: Expressing their feelings.
LISTER: Yeah. They kid around and insult each other and stuff. And what
they really mean is... Well, they can't tell you the stuff they really
mean.
RIMMER: What are you trying to tell me?
LISTER: Just trying to say that whatever happens here, I want you to know
I really care about you.
LISTER puts his hand on RIMMER's knee and RIMMER looks at it, rather
surprised.
KRYTEN: We _all_ do, sir.
KRYTEN puts his hand on RIMMER's other knee and RIMMER looks almost
disgusted.
CAT: It's true. _They_ really do care about you.
RIMMER: Only this morning you referred to me as a cancerous polyp on the
anus of humanity.
LISTER: In an affectionate way. In a kidding around, joking, friendly,
affectionate way.
KRYTEN: Sir, what he's trying to say is that we may never get another
opportunity to articulate our feelings and I, for one, would just like
to take this opportunity to say that you're a splendant man and a much-
respected colleague and a -- gosh darn it -- damn good friend.
HOLLY: We're getting some lift.
RIMMER: Wait a minute. I know why you're doing this.
HOLLY: Going down.
RIMMER: You're trying to make me feel guilty, aren't you? It's a
transparent attempt to shame me into doing the honourable thing.
LISTER: (Protesting) No, it's not that at all.
KRYTEN: (With LISTER) What gave you that idea?
RIMMER: Well, why is it then?
LISTER: Our number is up here and I don't want to go out without setting
the record straight. It's not easy saying this one man to another,
but, I love you, man. I really, really love you.
HOLLY: Going up.
KRYTEN: I think it might be a good idea at this time if we try and get
into a kind of a four-way hug situation.
RIMMER: What's wrong with you?
KRYTEN: I don't think people touch enough, sir. I think people should
touch more.
LISTER and KRYTEN grab CAT, and they all start to hug RIMMER. CAT looks
about as disgusted as it is possible to get.
LISTER: I love you, Arnie. This is a beautiful man. Big Man.
KRYTEN: This is a beautiful moment, isn't it?
LISTER: You're a big man. We love you, A.J.!
RIMMER: God. Oh...
HOLLY: Quick, get into the cockpit. There's something very strange
happening out there.
31 Ext. Graveyard.
We see RIMMER's SELF-RESPECT and his SELF-CONFIDENCE rise from the dead,
looking like two members of the three musketeers.
UNSPEAKABLE ONE: Charge, my hordes of darkness! Bring me the head of the
Despicable One.
But SELF-RESPECT and SELF-CONFIDENCE bar their way, blades flashing.
SELF-RESPECT: Have at you, Bitterness!
SELF-CONFIDENCE: Take that, Self-doubt!
SELF-RESPECT: Die like the dog you are, Mistrust!
SELF-CONFIDENCE: Feel my blade, Loneliness. May your foulness rot in
hell!
32 Int. Starbug Cockpit.
HOLLY: We're getting some lift.
KRYTEN: Twenty metres. That's enough for liftoff.
HOLLY: We're almost clear.
33 Model Shot.
Starbug lifting off.
34 Int. Cockpit.
RIMMER: It was all baloney, wasn't it?
LISTER: What was?
RIMMER: All that hugging stuff back there. It was just a way of
escaping, wasn't it? I mean you didn't really feel that deep down I'm
an OK sort of bloke; I'm not such a bad old stick once you get to know
me. You didn't really mean any of that, did you?
The others pause briefly to glance at each other and then respond
together.
OTHERS: (Matter-of-factly) No.
