By Damien Guard
Corrections by Kev Blake
This story is (c) 1994 Damien Guard (envy@guernsey.net) -
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KRYTEN at his post in the drive section of Starbug. He is looking at various screens and monitors, twidling buttons and switches. He looks confused.
LISTER walks in.
LISTER: So, how close are we now Kryter's?
KRYTEN: We're catching up sir. A mere 22 hours by my calculations.
LISTER: Yeees.
RIMMER walks in.
KRYTEN: But we have other problems sir. That fire yesterday in your laundry basket took most of our remaining re-cyc.
CAT walks in.
CAT: Hey, why all the sad faces?
RIMMER: We've got a water shortage crisis. Caused by yesterday's fire.
CAT: The one he caused with his toxic socks?
KRYTEN: They're not toxic sir, just highly unstable.
RIMMER: I say we eject the rest of Lister's socks into space before something else goes boom like the David Lister Christmas Turkey Curry.
LISTER: Hey, this is MY socks we're talking about here.
KRYTEN, RIMMER AND CAT: We know!
LISTER: Com'on, they're not THAT bad.
RIMMER: Not that bad? What about the time we went scooting after them with the bazookoids and backpacks.
KRYTEN: I think we're begging to lose the issue. The fact remains is that we have less water than it takes an Osmand to rinse out the toothpaste.
LISTER: Any S3 planets in the local vicinity?
CAT: Yeah, besides, im fed up of the Bulgarian Wine.
KRYTEN: I keep telling you sir, it's re-cyc.
CAT: No way man, re-cyc never tasted that bad.
KRYTEN: Thats why I've been searching with the Navicom There is something ahead which looks like an S3 planet.
CAT: Well, what we waiting for freak face?
KRYTEN: Well, I did say looks like one. There's something strange about it but I'm not sure what. It jsut feels strange.
RIMMER: The only thing thats strange round here Kryten is your groinal fire extinguisher. And I think we've allll seen enough of that. Quiiite disgusting.
KRYTEN: I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to cause any distress, I was merely trying to save the ship.
RIMMER: Never the less, Space Corp directive 398 clearly states?
KRYTEN: No crew member may attempt to belch in hyperspace?
RIMMER: 399?
KRYTEN: No crew member may attempt to extinguish a fire by urination. Oh, good point sir, well made.
CAT: (sniff)
LISTER: Cat, what is it?
CAT: Not sure, but it does not smell good. Smells like burnt bread.
LISTER: Wieeerd. Kryten, plot a course for that planet.
KRYTEN: But sir, we'll lose time off Red Dwarf.
LISTER: That's a risk were going to have to take.
RIMMER: I say finding Red Dwarf is a far, far higher priority.
LISTER: For smeg's sake Rimmer, shut up.
RIMMER: I was only trying to be realistic.
LISTER: You haven't helper Rimmer! Watering the smeggin' plants.
RIMMER: Well, they were dying!
CAT: Yeah, and now we might go-post head.
Ship breaks thru atmosphere and heads downwards. Below them are hundreds and thousands of calculators, mechanoids, lamps, frying pans and every other sort of electrical applicance.
CAT: Wow, what is this place?
KRYTEN: Oh no... Can it be?
RIMMER: Be what?
LISTER: (looks round at Rimmer) Silicon Heaven. I'm taking her down.
Crew get out the ship on a grassy green hill surrounded by chirping electrical applicances. Light music fills the air. The music is a perfectly arranged combination of alarms, beeps and boops.
IRON: Greetings travellers. You have travelled far to bring one of us home.
LAMP: Kryten fellow appliance, come rejoyce with us.
KRYTEN: Is this really it. Silicon Heaven?
IRON: Indeed it is my friend. Our final resting place.
Several calculators float by singing 'Why Are Friends Electric?' on a sea of 3-in-1 oil.
CAT: Hey man, it's peaceful here.
RIMMER: For smeg's sake, what's so special about a planet covered in old electrical junk. Look more like an overly large Rumbelows.
LISTER: Rimmer! It's their final resting place, man. It's a place where they can all relax, rest and enjoy in a world of peace and tranquility without a single worry about where the next battery's comming from.
TALKIE: Howdy doodly doo! It's Talkie your cheerful breakfast companion. Talkie's the name, toasting's the game. Would anybody like any toast?
LISTER, KRYTEN, CAT AND RIMMER: NO!
IRON: That toaster's been trouble ever since he got here.
LAMP: The maker had a look at him but said that somebody had tampered with him too much and that there was nothing he could do.
IRON: I hope the culprit is brought to justice one day.
TALKIE: Don't I know you guys?
LISTER: No, no. Fred Flintstone, pleased to meet you, and this is Barney (points to cat - Cat winces), and Wilma (Rimmer winces). And I think you know our friend Kryten.
TALKIE: Strange, I'm sure I know you from somewhere.
LISTER: Yeah, we used to have a TV show. You probably caught it.
TALKIE: Maybe so. How about a muffin?
IRON: So Kryten, are you ready to join us here? You're warrant expired long ago.
KRYTEN: I don't know if I'm ready. I've never considered it.
LAMP: You don't know? But the Electronic Bible says that all shall live together in harmony here in Silicon Heaven.
A head rolls in front of them from behind a tree. KRYTEN recognises it. It's Sparehead 3!
HEAD: There you are you great ponce. Leaving me stuck in the cupboard for five thousand years with droid rot.
KRYTEN: I'm sorry Sparehead 3, Red Dwarf was stolen while we were out moon hopping.
HEAD: Aye and I'll tell the lot round here about you. Leaving me all alone with nothing to read except the back of that packet of Krispies for five thousand years. This place is too good for the likes of you. We don't want your kind round here, go sling your bloody hook.
KRYTEN: but...
HEAD: Goron, bog off.
KRYTEN: Erm, well, yes, if we could just get some water we'll be on our way.
IRON: Water? We don't have any here, but there is plenty over that hill, that's where the washing machines live.
LISTER: Thanks, let's go.
CAT: Walk over there!?
LISTER: Yeah, it's not far.
CAT: Green grass with peach? (pointing to the suit) Are you insane?
RIMMER: (Looks up and shakes his head.)
They all walk out across the field. A light refreshing and non-rusting rain drizzles beautifully across the land.
RIMMER: So this is it, Silicon Heaven?
TALKIE: Yep.
RIMMER: Who invited him?
TALKIE: Nobody did. I just thought I'd come along for the trip. Would anybody ...
LISTER: (kicks toaster)
CAT: Not my idea of heaven, man. Where's ll the women?
KRYTEN: We have no need of sex sir, we are mechanoids and calculators with no desire but to serve.
A triple-bag easy-glide vacuum wizzes past them and wave's it's dustbag at KRYTEN.
LISTER: Oh yeah?
KRYTEN's stomach spins round and fluff starts comming out of his mouth.
CAT: What happened to him? Looks like a 6 month bellybutton fluff international stockpile.
All four are chased by a manic set of appliances including a still madly insane Hudsen, a hot-waffle-ejecting toaster and several other things that wouldn't be out of place in a Dixon's catalogue.
LISTER: Ah, that waffle burnt my neck man.
They all reach Starbug and start up the steps.
CAT: Arghgh! Maple syrup on my suit! Let me at them!
Inside StarBug. The floor is soaked.
RIMMER: For Smeg's sake, who left the sun room open?
Crew pilot Starbug up and away, remembering to close the sunroof.
LISTER: Well, at least we got some water.
Starbug shoots off after Red Dwarf once again, to venture into new worlds and.. no, silly me, wrong series.
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The End
[to be continued? Well, not yet, thats another story...]
CYBER BAT'S MESSAGE
KRYTEN: Blush mode...
KRYTEN: Sir!
RIMMER: Shut up. Furthermore should you help us with this immensly important task, we have several, several socks which are extremely dirty and which we can let you clean in return.
KRYTEN: Sir, how often do you talk to laundering machines?
RIMMER: Um, not very ... (Realises the machines have not even noticed him). Ahem.
KRYTEN: I'll have to interface directly sirs. Hold a minute. (Plugs himself into a tumbledryer)
LISTER: Maybe we should stay here man. I mean, it's quite nice.
Talkie: How about a toasted tea cake?
LISTER: That's it. (Picks up Talkie Toaster - Patent pending.) (Shakes toaster) NO SMEGGIN' TOAST
TALKIE: Hey, I remember you now. You're the guy who killed me! HELP HELP HELP!
KRYTEN: Okay, we can take the water, but they don't want Lister's socks. That's how some of them got here.
RIMMER: Soooo. Lister's responsible for the death of several washing machines and a slightly manic toaster.
IRON: There they are, the electical killers. Let's get them my friends!
RIMMER: Not to mention Admiral Loo-Brush's encounter with .. uh oh.
HUDSEN: He-hoo! Kryten, glad you could join us. You lied to me Kryten. It's time to die!
KRYTEN: Oh, err...
RIMMER: I think a general sprint in the direction of the buggy green one would be in order.
CAT: I second that.
LISTER: Quick. go, go.
KRYTEN: Keep running sirs...
LISTER: Don't be stupid, they'll kill you.
CAT: This stuff never comes off. I'd rather be dead.
LISTER: (Pulls the struggling cat in.)
LISTER: Let's just get out of here.
CAT: Yeah, but it's all over the floor.
LISTER: Kryters, go get your groinal vacume and pass me that screwdriver. Let's see if I can get this thing to suck up water.
KRYTEN: Oh no!
RIMMER: Oh my god!
MMMM i hope it will be
<..>
