by Ganymede & Titan

Series IV - Justice - All scenes


How are you feeling, Mr Lister?

(WEARILY) Oh, much better, thanks, Kryten.

- Much, much better.
- Well, you certainly look better, far better.

I can't believe how much
the swelling's gone down overnight.

Do you reckon?

Oh, definitely. It was almost interfering
with the ceiling fan yesterday afternoon.

You're nearly back to your old old self. In
fact, you can hardly tell you've got space mumps at all.

So, when can I have a mirror?

Ah, I don't think we're
quite ready for a mirror just yet, sir.

Let's take it one step at a time, shall we?

Oh, there what did I tell you? It's gone down
eight inches overnight. You'll be up and about in no time.

I don't know what I'd have done
without you these last three weeks, Kryten.

You're like Florence

- Did you bring my breakfast?
- Yes, sir. Hot lager with croutons. Just the way you asked.

You certainly find out who your mates are
when you've got an unsightly disfiguring ailment.

- I wouldn't say unsightly, sir.
- Get out of town, Kryten.

I've got a head like a hot-air balloon.
I look like the Human Light Bulb.

And how many times
have they visited me?

How many times have they dropped by with
a word of comfort or a bunch of grapes?

It's just not been possible, sir.
Mr Rimmer has been on vacation.

Vacation? The world's most charismatic man?
Where did he go?

He's been on a rambling holiday through the diesel decks.

A ten-day hike through the ship's
combustion engines with two of the skutters.

- He said he'd pop by later and show you the slides.
- He didn't, did he?

Well, he's been loading the
projection carousel for 24 hours now, sir.

We've got to stop him!

A slide show of the diesel decks -
that could really finish me off.

I would have thought the Cat
would have dropped in though.

Well, he's been preoccupied of late
what with all this pod business.

Oh, screw down my diodes and call me Frank!
I wasn't supposed to mention that.

What pod?

Oh! Now you're not well, sir.
Now, just forget I mentioned it.

Come on, Kryten. What pod?

Ohh... Yesterday evening, we came across
an escape pod floating in the local asteroid belt.

It contains the survivor of some space crash,
apparently cryogenically frozen.

- Oh, yeah?
- All the signs are she's in a suitable condition for revival.

- She?
- As far as we can tell, she's a she, yes.

That's just great, isn't it? That's just typical.

The first female company in three million years,

and I look like something that belongs up a whale's nose.

- Smeg!
- You can't get up, sir! What are you doing?

What do you think I'm doing?
There's a woman on board!

I'm on the cop.

- So, who is she, Holly?
- It says on the pod, 'Barbra Bellini.'

Barbra Bellini. What a beautiful name.

There's no justice. How could this happen to me?

Maybe, I could wear a turban
and pretend I'm from India.

Maybe you could stick a spike in your
head and pretend you're the Taj Mahal.

Oh, it's you.
Well, thanks for visiting me, man. Thanks a lot.

Look at you. You know what
you look like? It's nauseating.

You could go double-dating with the Elephant Man
and *he* would be the looker.

- Why isn't this activated?
- What?

How come no-one started up the thaw process.

- I thought Alphabet-Head did it.
- So, who is she, man? Where's she from?

Who cares? At last... a date.

Who says she's gonna
be interested in you?

I see what you're saying.

All this time alone in deep space
could have driven her insane, right?

No. Say she's just an ordinary
person, who doesn't go for your type?

I would have heard about her! She would have appeared in "Ripley's Believe It Or Not".

- Well say she's interested in somebody else?
- Like who?

I dunno. Like... Well, like me?

You've got a head like like a watermelon.
What you gonna do?

Paint it with yellow and black stripes and
tell her you play quarterback with the Bengals?

I just think you're a little bit cocky for a guy
who's never actually met a real woman before.

I've seen mirrors. I have eyes.
Let's face it, buddy, I have a body that makes men wet.

- Have you ever heard of an animal called an Iranian jird?
- No.

It can do 150 pelvic
thrusts a second.

- So?
- That's me in slo-mo.

Put a Black & Decker drill on the end,
and I can make it through walls, boy!

Listy, what are you doing up?

Shouldn't you be in the greenhouse
with the rest of the cantaloupes?

- Who started the RP?
- He did.

You simple-minded gimboid.
Didn't I tell you to leave this to me?

Look, what's the problem?
She's in there, let's get her out.

The problem, Pussy Cat Willum,
is this capsule was ejected from a prison ship

a prison ship on which the convicts mutinied.

There was a pitched battle with only two survivors:
one prisoner, one guard - the erstwhile Ms Bellini.

One of those two got into this pod and escaped.

But, of course, you'll know all of this having familiarised
yourself thoroughly with the black box recording.

- So, if it's not Bellini in there, then who is it?
- One of the prisoners.

And considering
that ship was transporting 40 psychotic,

half-crazed, mass-murdering, super-strong androids,

we thought it prudent to find out who the
smeg was in there before we woke them up!

With respect, sir, they're not androids.

- They're simulants.
- What's the difference?

Well, the basic difference is that an android would never rip off a human's head and spit down his neck.

- Can we stop it, Hol?
- What? Oh, no. One-way process.

Well, can't we find out who's
in there by X-raying the pod?

No. Lead lining. Has to
survive in space, dunnit?

- There must be some way of finding out.
- Well, there is.

All we have to do is hang around here for 24 hours.

Then, if you find your limbs scattered around
deep space and your neck full of saliva.

You can take it as read, it probably wasn't Babs.

Why not tool up with bazookoids,
wait for the pod to open,

and if it's one of these bad-ass
android dudes, let it eat laser?

Simulants are virtually indestructible, sir.

It could easily withstand a volley of bazookoid
fire at close range with only minimal damage.

It would certainly survive long enough to make
balloon animals out of your lower intestines.

Well, I see no other option.
Let's blast it back into space.

Hang on! Say it isn't the simulant?
You can't just shoot an innocent woman into space.

What a dilemma!
Inside this pod is either death or a date.

Personally, I'm prepared to take the risk.

Meanwhile, the pod is defrosting, and
we haven't decided what to do. Holly, any ideas?

Right. Here's a
possibility: the black box.

Contains the coordinates of the penal
colony the prison ship was heading for.

- So?
- Well, there's bound to be facilities there

to contain any hostile life form.

If it's turns out to be Bellini, we release her.

If it's the simulant, we can bung him in the cell and leave him to rot.

IF the colony's still there, and IF it's still operational.

There's an old android saying which I believe
has particular relevance here it goes like this:

"If you don't gosub a program loop,
you'll never get a subroutine."

Yeah, we have a human expression which is pretty similar:
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Oh no, I think the android one is punchier.

- Do you have to sit up here?
- It's warmer in the front. It helps my gunge.

I can't see anything, your head keeps getting in the way of the mirror.

In fact, it keeps getting in the way of the windscreen.

Next! Ah, now, this one...

We reached this beauty on the
evening of the fourth day.

The Cameron Mackintosh
40-valve air-cooled diesel. The 184.

Almost identical to the 179,
but have you noticed the difference?

See the refinement in the funnel edges?

I thought we're never get another chance to see one of these
so we bivouacked down for the night under the fuel pump.

There's a funny story about that, which I'll tell you later

but we're not going to get to any of the
class fives unless we push along. Next!

- Ah! Another favourite.
- Sir, can we take a break for a while?

It appears my intelligence circuits have melted.

We're not going to get through them all, Kryten, if we take a second break...

Sir, that's a gamble I'm willing to take.

Now, the class 40s, the first twin...


Oh, my God!

His head burst!

That is better. That is so much better. I feel good!

Talk about a weight off your mind.

I don't want to live!
Someone, please... shoot me in the head!

- (LISTER) Is there anything down there, Hol?
- No life forms, not according to the heat scan.

- Any mechanical intelligence?
- Yeah, mainframe's still operational.

Just initiating interface...
Hang about. Here we go.

Getting a message.

(JUSTICE COMPUTER) Welcome to Justice World,

Please state your clearance code
and prison officer ident.

We're not a prison ship. We don't have a clearance
code. We just want to use your facilities.

- State life form inventory.
- Four.

One hologram, one mechanoid, two humanoid.

- Transfer ship navicomp to my jurisdiction.
- OK, guys.

On landing, please disembark and proceed
through the neutral area to the clearance zone.

Until you are granted a clearance code,
please observe all security requirements.

Your party will be met
by a consignment of escort boots.

Please step into the boots.

I'm supposed to wear these?!
These look like Frankenstein's hand-me-downs.

Haven't you got anything
with a Cuban heel or a crepe sole?

- I can't wear these. I'm a hologram.
- That has been accounted for.


Now what?


- Oh, God! What's this?
- Relax, sir. It's just a mind probe.

- Hang on a minute, what's a mind probe?
- The computer was just searching our minds,

presumably for any evidence of criminal activity, sir.

What do you mean, "criminal activity"?

I wouldn't worry about it, sir.
It's just a routine clearance procedure.

Yeah, yeah, but when you say "criminal activity",
what do you mean by "criminal activity"?

- I mean, how criminal do you mean by "criminal"?
- What are you bleating on about, Lister?

Just define "criminal activity" for me, that's all!

Well, imagine a situation where someone had
committed a crime and concealed it from the law,

the mind probe would be able to uncover that
crime and sentence that person accordingly.

Why did no one tell me this
before I put the smegging boots on?

Oh, Listy, Listy. Is that a small sewage plant
you're carrying in your trousers...

..or I detect you're a tad concerned?

Well, come on, guys. Everyone's done something
in their past that's been a little bit illegal.

- I haven't. I never so much as got a parking ticket.
- Oh, smeggin' hell!

- What did you do?
- Well, like scrumping.

When I was a kid back in Liverpool,
we used to always go scrumping.

Oh, Stealing apples?
That's hardly a crime, sir.

Yeah, but me and me mates,
we used to go scrumping for cars.

- Did you get caught?
- All the time, I was stupid.

Oh, there's no problem then, you've
already served your punishment.

There were other things as a kid, though.
Things that I didn't get caught for.

- Like what?
- Well, there was this one time at this hotel...

Oh, lots of people take towels from hotels, sir.

I took the bed.

I winched it out the
window to me mates outside.

I was renting this flat, you
see. It was unfurnished.

- You mean to say you went to a hotel and stole the bed?!
- I stole the entire room.

Absolutely despicable. You're a common thief.

I'm not making excuses,
but everyone was doing it.

I wasn't strong enough
to go against the flow.

- I would not like to be in your boots right now, buddy!
- Why? What do you think's going to happen to me?

Oh, don't worry about it, sir. I'm sure they're not
going to be interested in some minor misdemeanour

you committed as an adolescent
over three million years ago.

- Seriously, Kryten, do you reckon?
- Boy, I'm really getting the hang of this lie mode

That was totally convincing, wasn't it?

The mechanoid Kryten - clearance granted.

You may go freely about the complex.

The creature known as Cat - clearance granted.


Hey, I hear they do good bread and water here, buddy.

The human known as Lister -
despite a number of petty criminal acts -

clearance granted.

The hologram known as Rimmer -

guilty of second-degree murder, 1,167 counts.

No. There must be some mistake, surely?

Each count carries a statutory penalty
of eight years' penal servitude.

In the light of your hologrammatic status,

these sentences are to be served consecutively,

making a total sentence of 9,328 years.

I've never so much as returned a library book late!
Second-degree murder?

A thousand people?
I would have remembered!

Your wilful negligence
in failing to reseal a drive plate

resulted in the deaths of the entire crew

of the Jupiter Mining Corporation vessel
the Red Dwarf.

Oh, that.

Sentence to commence immediately.

You are now leaving the neutral area
and entering the Justice Zone.

Beyond this point,
it is impossible to commit any act of injustice.

(RIMMER) Help!

Hi, killer.

- Nine thousand years. Nine!
- I brought you a book.

Oh, thanks. That'll really help the centuries fly past.

Don't panic, man. We're gonna get you out of here.

Why bother? I'll be up for parole
in another couple of ice ages.

Look, Kryten reckons you've got the Right of Appeal.
He's trying to put a case together right now.

This isn't a bad place for a prison. How come
there are no locks or bars or guards or anything?

There doesn't need to be. The whole prison complex is
covered by something called the Justice Field.

I had to sit through this tedious lecture.

Apparently, it's physically impossible
to commit any sort of crime here.

- What do you mean?
- Just try and commit a crime. You'll see.

- Well, like what?
- I don't know. Anything.

Arson. Try and set fire to those sheets.

- OK.
- Go on. Try it.

Whatever crime you try and commit,
the consequences happen to you.

Smeggin' hell!

Nice example, Rimmer! Nice example!

You could have just
explained that to me verbally.

It's the same with stealing. Same with everything.

Right, I'm with you. So if you nick something,
something of yours goes missing, yeah?

Right. Try it.

- No.
- You see? It's the perfect system.

It forces the inmates
to adhere to the law.

Once they get out, it's
become second nature.

Good news.
The justice computer has sanctioned a retrial.

I think we have a very strong case.

You do? It's simply a question of differentiating
between guilt and culpability, sir.

What the mind probe detected was
your own sense of guilt about the accident.

In a way, you tried and convicted yourself.

I simply have to establish that you're
a neurotic, under-achieving emotional retard

whose ambition far outstrips his miniscule ability

and consequently blames himself for an accident

for which he could not possibly have been responsible.

You're going to prove that I was innocent of negligence
on the grounds that I'm a halfwitted incompetent?

Man, there ain't a jury in the land
that wouldn't buy a plea like that!