Smega-Drive

by Ganymede & Titan

Series V - Holoship - All scenes



("RED DWARF" THEME)


(MAN) Oh, Marnie.
(WOMAN) Oh, my darling, don't.


This isn't a time for sadness,
it's a time for joy, for laughter. Don't you see?


Whatever this crazy old world throws
at us now it doesn't matter. None of it does.


(MAN) Marnie, we can never be together again.


(WOMAN) Oh, darling, you're wrong.
we'll always be together.


It's just... we'll be apart.


Wasn't that just beautiful?
Oh, well recommended, sir.


Do you think they ever get back together again?


- (SOBS) I don't know.
- Pardon?


(SQUEAKS) I don't know!


Wasn't it just
wonderful though, sir?


The way he sacrificed his career, his
dreams, everything for the woman he loved?


I thought it was the worst
pile of blubbery schoolgirl mush


I've ever been
compelled to endure.


I consider it an insult to my backside that
it was forced to sit here growing carbuncles


through such putrid adolescent slush.


You didn't find it uplifting?


It wasn't in the least bit
uplifting. It was totally unbelievable.


Why would he give everything up for a
woman he's never going to see again?


Because she loved him, and he would
have that forever. Isn't that right, sir?


(BLOWS NOSE)


Personally, I thought it
started well but fell apart.


All the stuff with the ducks all
getting into trouble, that was great.


Then it all went black and white and I fell asleep.


But, sir, that was the cartoon
before the main programme.


Hang on, chaps.
We've got a blip. Quadrant 4, sector 492,


I'm onto it right away Holly.


Those kind of films really
irritate me. Just not realistic.


There isn't a man in the universe
who wouldn't have taken the job


and to hell with the
woman. Total baloney.


Rimmer, you said that about
King of Kings: The Story of Jesus


Well, it's true. A simple carpenter's son
who learns how to do magic tricks like that


and doesn't go into show business?


Do any of us believe that, even for a second?


He was supposed to
be the Son of God(!)


And when he was
carrying that cross up the hill


any normal, realistic bloke would've mule-kicked
the guy on the left, clobbered the one on the right


and be over that green hill and far away
before you could say 'Pontius Pilate'.


Why do I feel that somehow
you've missed the point?


I mean, whether you believe it or not, it's
about a dude who sacrifices his life for love.


Not realistic. As if!


You've got no soul, man. No soul.


- Sirs, I think you should take a look at this.
- Another vessel?


Too small. It may be a missile.


- Impact in 37 seconds.
- Plotting random evasion course.


What?! Am I the only sane one here?
Why don't we drop the defensive shields?


A superlative suggestion, sir,
with just two minor flaws.


One, we don't have any defensive shields,
and two, we don't have any defensive shields.


Now, I realise that technically speaking,
that's only one flaw,


but I thought it was such a big one,
it was worth mentioning twice.


Good point. Well made.


(WHOOSH)


Rimmer, what are you doing?


It's incredible! It's beautiful!


It's not registering on any scale.
Mass, velocity, molecular structure -


all the readings are zero.


Sir, I'm picking up
some kind of energy emission.


They've taken Mr Rimmer!
Sir, they've taken Mr. Rimmer!


Quick! Let's get out of here
before they bring him back!


I hope we didn't startle you. Nirvanah Crane.


You touched me. I can touch.


- How is this possible?
- This entire ship, its crew


and everything on it is computer-generated.


- You're all holograms? Even the ship?
- Salut.


Salut.


- How big's the crew?
- Just under 2,000. All top-flight personnel.


- Hmm. What a ship.
- (COMPUTER) Floor 3125,


Sports and sexual recreation.


- Sports and what?
- Sex.


- Don't you have a sex deck on your ship?
- No.


Well, what do you do
when you want to have sex?


Well, we go for runs.


Watch gardening programmes on the ship's vid.


That's very bad for you.
Don't you ever feel tense or frustrated?


Well, it's gotten worse
these last ten years or so, I can't deny it.


Extraordinary. It's quite different here.


In fact, it's a ship regulation that we all have sexual
congress at least twice a day. It's a health rule.


Twice a day?! That's more than
some people manage in a lifetime!


I mean sad, lonely people.
But what happens if you don't have a partner?


If you don't have a partner?


Well, some people - sad, lonely people -


find that that people just aren't
attracted to them in that kind of way.


I don't understand. Here it is considered the height
of bad manners to refuse an offer of sexual coupling.


Well...


People have always complimented me
on my good manners.


What a ship!


We discarded the concept of "family"
in the 25th century,


when scientists finally proved that all our hang-ups
and neuroses are caused by our parents.


- I knew it.
- Families are disastrous for your mental health.


So are relationships.
These are outmoded concepts for us.


But what about love? Surely people still fall in love?


We have developed beyond love, Mr. Rimmer.


That is a short-term hormonal distraction


which interferes with the pure pursuit
of personal advancement.


We are holograms.
There is no risk of disease or pregnancy.


That is why in our society,
we only believe in sex...


constant, guilt-free sex.


Poor Mr Rimmer. I fear he is in great danger.


I'm trying to get them to handshake,
but they're not responding on any frequency.


Well, I say let's break out the laser cannons
and give 'em both barrels.


An adroit suggestion, sir,
with just two minor drawbacks...


OK! Forget it!


There's nothing to shoot at.
Look at the readouts. Zero mass.


- Of course! A holoship.
- A holoship?


The project was in its initial phase
when I left the solar system.


Ships of no mass or volume,
able to travel as super-light particles -


tachyons - through wormholes and stargates,


crewed by holograms
of great genius and bravery.


And they've taken Rimmer?
He should fit in just perfectly.


Now I understand why they
didn't bother with a handshake.


Holocrews are legendarily arrogant.


They despise stupidity wherever they see it,
and they see it everywhere.


Hang on, I'm getting another energy emission.


Binks to Enlightenment. Have arrived
on the derelict. Confirm initial speculation.


There is absolutely nothing
of any value or interest here.


It's one of the old Class 2 ship-to-surface vessels,


the very model, in fact, that was
withdrawn due to major flight design flaws.


Crew, three. One Series 4000 mechanoid -
almost burnt out.


Give it maybe three years.
Nothing of salvageable value.


Ah, Felis sapiens, bred from the domestic
house cat and about half as smart.


No value in future study of this species.


What have we here? A human being,
or a very close approximation.


Chronological age, mid-20s.
Physical age, 47.


Grossly overweight, unnecessarily ugly,
otherwise would recommend it for the museum.


Apart from that. Of no value or interest.


Lister to Red Dwarf.
We have in our midst a complete smeg-pot.


Brains in the anal region.
Chin absent, presumed missing.


Genitalia small and inoffensive,
of no value or interest.


Binks to Enlightenment.
Evidence of primitive humour.


The human has knowledge of irony,
satire and imitation.


With patient tuition
could maybe master simple tasks.


Lister to Red Dwarf.
Displays evidence of spoiling for a rumble.


Seems unable to grasp simple threats.


With careful pummelling, could possibly be
sucking tomorrow's lunch through a straw.


Binks to Enlightenment.
The human is under the delusion


that he is somehow able
to bestow physical violence to a hologram.


Lister to Red Dwarf.
The intruder seems to be blissfully unaware


that we have a rather sturdy holowhip
in the munitions cabinet,


and unless he wants his derriƩre
minced like burger meat,


he'd better be history in two seconds flat.


Binks to Enlightenment.
Recon mission complete, transmit.


With speed, Enlightenment. Quickly, please!


Captain, Mr Rimmer
from the mining ship Red Dwarf.


Mr Rimmer. Oh, my word. It is
one of the old Class 1 holograms


I didn't realise you guys were
still around. Captain Hercule Platini,


IQ 212. Number One.


(RUSSIAN ACCENT)
Commander Natalina Pushkin, IQ 201.


Commander Randy Navarro, IQ 194.


Second Technician Arnold Rimmer, IQ unknown.


- Captain, this is a magnificent ship.
- So it should be, Mr Rimmer.


After all, it was designed to carry the
hologrammatic cream of the Space Corps.


Every crew member is the top gun in his or her field.


This is a ship, Mr Rimmer, of superhumans.


Which is why, Captain,
I feel I could really belong here.


Are you serious?


Everything I want in my life
is here on this ship. I want to join you.


Ah, but Mr Rimmer,
you are not an officer.


Captain, I've been in effective command
of Red Dwarf now for nearly four years.


I've guided that ragamuffin, ragtail crew of whacked-out
crazies and hippy peaceniks through hell and back.


If I gave the order, those guys would crawl on their
bellies across broken glass with their flies unzipped.


So don't tell me I'm not an officer, Captain,


just because in deep space,
there's no academy around to award me my pips.


- You've got to take me.
- Unfortunately, it's not that simple, Mr Rimmer.


The Enlightenment already has a full ship's complement.


The only way in is "Dead Man's Boots".


You'll have to challenge an existing crew member.


There are tests
which tax the entire vista of your intellect.


Oh.


Tests that probe every aspect
of your mental capability.


Ah.


Should you win, your opponent's run time
would be terminated


and their life-force would be used
to generate you.


Who will be my opponent?


Well, I'm sure our computer will come up
with the most stimulating match-up.


It has stochastic capabilities.


It predicts the future
with only a 5% error margin,


simply by extrapolating the most likely
outcome of all known variables.


I am asking it
for your best chance of success.


And here it is.
Your best shot is crew member 4172.


You have a 96% probability of failure.


Mr Rimmer, you have 24 hours to prepare.


Well, thank you, Commander,
for a most fascinating afternoon.


It's been most... fascinating.


Perhaps, if you're not in any great rush, Mr Rimmer, we
could retire to my quarters and have sex for a few hours.


That was just unbelievable.


It's never been like that before.


Was it OK?


It was... different.


- Different?
- You make love like a Japanese meal -


small portions, but so many courses.


- Look, Nirvanah...
- We must dress and go now.


- Look, Nirvanah, what I'm trying to say...
- Please, don't say anything.


I hope you didn't get me wrong just then. That meant
nothing to me. Truly, less than nothing, really.


Good.


- We may as well have been playing tennis.
- As it should be.


I, er... don't suppose
you fancy a tie-break?


I'm sorry. I've got things I should do.


Niet problemski.


You know... we usually talk.


- What do you talk about?
- Oh, research,


new theories, mission profiles.


I'm sorry. I must have seemed very ignorant.


I hardly said anything apart from "Geronimo".


Thank you for the workout.


Dress.


Transmit.


Privacy off.


Commander, some amusing news. Stocky has
chosen you to meet our guest's challenge.


What you're suggesting is immoral
and illegal. Mind-patching is outlawed.


- But it IS possible?
- Possible but highly dangerous.


The side effects can be devastating. You
could be reduced to a gibbering simpleton.


Reduced?


I dont care, I'm prepared
to take the chance.


- Even if it costs your mind?
- It's a small price to pay.


Look, on that ship I can touch, I can feel, I can taste.


I'm not a half man anymore. With them I'm whole again.


Rimmer, they're a bunch of arrogant, pompous,
emotionally weird, stuck-up megalomaniacs.


Do you really think you're
going to fit in with them?


What am I saying? Bon voyage.


He's right, sir. Why would you
want to throw in with people like that?


To be somebody, I want to have a position
of authority on a scout ship exploring unchartered space,


work alongside educated men and women,
officers, people who count.


Lister, this is my one chance
to seize my dream, to be with the winners.


- Look at me. What do you see?
- Tell me.


You see a sad and lonely guy. A guy who left home
at 16 to become an officer and a gentleman


and ended up as a chicken
soup machine operative.


Is it any wonder my
father had four strokes?


Is it any wonder he used
to sit by the window and dribble?


I did that to him. Me.


Look, there's nothing wrong
with what you did. It was just a job.


- You ARE your job.
- Oh, not so, sir!


Now, was Albert Camus
a goalkeeper or a philosopher?


Was Albert Einstein an clerk in a patent office
or the greatest physicist who ever lived?


And, of course, there's the oft-told
tale of the simple carpenter's son


who went on to own the largest chain
of pizza stores in history, Harry Beedlebaum.


Kryten, Albert Einstein didn't
spend the best years of his life


picking out lumps of desiccated
poultry from the end of his nozzle cleaner.


That doesn't make you a failure.


It does in my parents' eyes.
It does in my brothers' eyes.


It does in the eyes of everyone WITH eyes.
That's exactly what it makes me.


Sir, I beg you to reconsider. If not for your sanity,


you haven't even considered
the moral implications of your decision.


You will be joining a society
where you will be compelled to have sex


with beautiful, brilliant women
twice daily on demand.


Now, am I really the only one here
who finds that just a little bit tacky?


Well, quite clearly I am.


Sir, I've uploaded the two candidates
to be inserted into your mind -