Title: Stroke Me a Nipper, I'll Be Back For Tennis 2/20
Series: Tales of the Kipperverse
Author: Gileswench
Contact: gileswench@yahoo.com
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind which you really don't want. Please don't sue. Oh, yeah, and Red Dwarf isn't mine, either. If it was, Kryten would be very, very frightened.
Kryten prepared Starbug 2 for take off. As he flipped switches and double-checked readouts, Rimmer interrogated him about the situation.
"Holly's sure this is Earth?" he asked. "Really Earth?"
"He's quite certain of it, sir."
"Yes, but let's not forget that last week he was certain we'd found an inexhaustible supply of fuel for the engines which turned out to be a pair of Lister's undershorts that had fallen behind a bulkhead and mutated."
"It might have worked, sir."
"No it couldn't," Rimmer said. "Those shorts could have fertilized half the arable soil in Europe, but they hadn't become rocket fuel yet."
"Man, I took one whiff of those, and *I* nearly fertilized half the soil in Europe," Cat added. "Chipmunk Cheeks' shorts are fearsome at the best of times, but give them a few million years to ferment and they'll scare Frankenstein."
"I admit, Mr. Lister's delicates may leave something to be desired in the olfactory sense," Kryten admitted, "but a Mechanoid can only do so much with laundry that actually moves under its own power. The little things kept running away. I finally had to hit them with a polo mallet just to get them to hold still long enough so I could pre-treat the stains." He flipped the final switch. The engines roared to life. "Right. Fasten your seatbelts, sirs. We're going to Earth."
The small spacecraft whined and shuddered as it took off into the star-studded blackness. For some time, conversation was limited to what was necessary to pilot the ship. At last, though, they guided Starbug 2 into the atmosphere. The three companions took a good look.
"So that's Earth?" Cat asked disdainfully. "That's what all the fuss has been about?"
"You don't understand, Cat," Rimmer said. "It's Listy's home; where he comes from."
"Yeah," the feline agreed, "and now I see what's been wrong with him all along. Just look at that place! No sense of style whatsoever."
"How can you tell?" Kryten asked. "We haven't even landed yet."
"Trust me, I can smell it as far away as Lister's breath. This has got to be the planet responsible for nylon boxer shorts and hooded anoracks."
"Is that all you care about, you gimboid?" Rimmer asked. "What about Earth's scientific discoveries? What about its heroes? What about Morris dancing and Hammond Organs?"
"Earth invented those things?"
"Yes, and so many more like them."
"Man, this place is worse than I thought."
"No time to worry about that now," Kryten said nervously. "Something's just appeared on Starbug's navicomp, and it's headed straight for us!"
"Evasive maneuvers!" Rimmer barked.
"Not working, sir. It seems to be following us, no matter where we turn!"
"Anybody else getting a really nasty case of déjà vu?" Cat asked.
"Hold on, sirs! Collision imminent!"
A pristine ship of incredible sleekness sliced through the atmosphere directly into the path of the bug-shaped, dented shuttle. There was a hideous grinding noise as the two vehicles scraped across one another and Starbug 2 plummeted to the ground. Moments later, the other ship performed a perfect u-turn and landed elegantly beside the shuttle.
Ace Rimmer, resplendent in his gold lame space suit, emerged from his ship, shook out his shoulder-length tresses, and went to see what he could do for the crash victims.
*****
When Oz came to, he noticed two things. The first was that he was chained up in Giles' bathtub - again. The other was the savage muttering he could hear just outside the shower curtain.
"Hey," he said quietly.
The muttering stopped. A hand pulled the shower curtain part of the way back. Giles peered in. He looked rumpled and disgruntled. Half his face was covered in shaving cream, and the other half in bits of toilet paper where he'd obviously nicked himself repeatedly.
"Good morning, Oz," he said steadily enough. It took a practiced eye to see how close to the edge the Englishman was. Oz had had practice. "Did you sleep well?"
"Like I was tranquilized, apparently. You?"
"Not too badly. I suppose you'd like to be released now?"
"When you've got a minute," he shrugged noncommittally. "You know, we've got to stop meeting like this. People are beginning to talk."
Giles produced a key from the pocket of his robe and unfastened Oz's restraints. He then handed a neat pile of the boy's clothes to him.
"We, um...we have a houseguest this morning," Giles said.
"Male or female?"
"Male."
"There something you want to tell me, Giles? 'Cause I'd be cool about it."
The older man glared and returned to his shaving. He flinched at a crash from the living room and nicked himself yet again.
"Believe me, I have no desire to spend a moment more than necessary with him. And if that's what humanity's future holds, I'm glad I won't be here to see it."
"Pretty grim, huh?" Oz allowed himself a flicker of a half-smile since Giles' back was to him. He finished dressing and stepped out of the tub. "It can't be that bad. Can it?"
Another crash.
"It's worse."
*****
An hour later, the Scoobies were gathered in Giles' living room for a meeting. Xander and Anya shared one chair in an embarrassing attitude. Buffy perched demurely next to Giles on the sofa. Willow took a seat on the floor with her legs crossed tailor-style. Lister took the other chair. Of course, he sat on the back with his feet precariously planted on the arms. Oz watched Drusilla from his barstool. The vampiress rolled on the floor, her dress riding up her thighs obscenely as she gnawed on a gummi rat.
"So you see," Giles explained solemnly, "Dave Lister is the end of humanity as we know it."
"Speaking for humanity," Xander said, "I feel we should all be deeply ashamed."
"Xand!" Willow scolded. "You shouldn't say that."
"Tell me you're not thinking the same thing, Will."
"Maybe. But I didn't say it."
"Still," Anya said, "we are all thinking it. He's pathetic. He's ugly and unkempt."
"Is anyone ever just 'kempt'?" Buffy asked. "I've never had anyone come up to me and say 'hey, you're looking really kempt today'."
"Y'know, I always wondered about that," Lister said cheerfully.
"Be that as it may," Giles said desperately trying to drag the council into some semblance of order, "we need to decide what to do now."
"If I could make a suggestion? Maybe a long shower and a trip to the mall," Oz said.
"Make him look and smell a little less like eau de homeless guy," Xander agreed.
"Giles? Wallet."
Buffy held out her hand expectantly. Giles gaped.
"What?"
"Well, a whole new look for the last chance of humanity doesn't exactly fit into my allowance. You're the gainfully employed one. Fork over."
"May I remind you I am no longer gainfully employed since I blew up the school for you?"
"Also in the service of humanity. Think of all the cosmic brownie points you're racking up."
"You're seriously good with the karma," Oz agreed.
Giles sighed and handed over his money.
"We really ought to be working out how to send him back where he came from," he reminded the assembly, "not giving him a makeover."
*****
"Is everybody all right?" Kryten asked.
"Well, I am," said Rimmer. "Thank God."
"No," Cat complained. "My cravat is all crumpled and I think I broke a nail."
A figure appeared in the hatchway.
"Mr. Ace, sir!" Kryten exclaimed. "Oh, my it's good to see you!"
"Put it there, Kryten," Ace Rimmer - for it was he - said as he extended his hand to the Mechanoid. "My God you're looking great. And is that WD-40 I smell? Kritey, you old dog!"
"Hey buddy!" Cat crowed happily.
"Cat." Ace shook hands with the feline. "Silver and cerise? It's a bold fashion statement, but if anyone can pull it off, it's you."
Ace turned and stood face-to-face with his twin. Rimmer grimaced in envious fury.
"So, Arnie," Ace tried, "how's death treating you?"
"You!" Rimmer exclaimed. "You smashed our ship again. And here you are to be all wonderful and perfect at us *again*? Well, laddie, no one's falling for your flowing tresses in the wind incredibleness this time. Are we, lads?"
"Take no notice of Mr. Rimmer, sir. He's been particularly crabby and anti-social since we found Earth."
"Earth, eh?" Ace said. "Always wanted to see Earth. Pity we're out of our timestream. Can't corrupt the lines and all that. Wouldn't be sporting."
"See! That's what I told Doo-Doo Breath when he had the idea of coming here in the first place," Cat said. "I told him: nobody will be wearing the same sort of clothes you are. They'll all laugh at you. But did he listen? No."
Holly's face appeared on the computer screen.
"How's it going, dudes?" he asked. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," Rimmer answered with scathing sarcasm. "Everything's just tickity-boo. Captain Queerbait has just crashed our ship again, the timeline's been permanently corrupted, and now we have to look at your ugly face. What could possibly be wrong with that?"
"So, everything's fine, then. Good."
"Have you and Mr. Lister found civilization?" Kryten asked.
"Well, we've found some people. I don't know that you can call it civilization. Dave doesn't. Turns out there isn't an Indian takeaway for miles."
"Lister can't get a curry?" Rimmer asked. "Things are looking up already."
"What about a custom tailor?" Cat asked. "I've been wearing all my things for millions of years. I need to get the latest styles."
"I don't think that'll be a problem," Holly said. "You've been gone long enough, most of your wardrobe has come back into fashion."
"'Fraid there's a slight hitch, though," Ace said as he confidently lit a cigarette. "Timeline's been buggered with this caper of yours. If it doesn't get straightened out, my crate'll never take off again."
"So you can't fly about dimensions winning awards for being handsome and amazing?" Rimmer asked. "Marvelous! Things just keep getting better and better."
"But if your ship doesn't fly, how are you going to get back to your mission?" Kryten asked. "Why, if you can't fix your ship, you'll be stuck here in the past with us."
Rimmer looked wildly around the room.
"No," he said. "No, he can't stay. He can find his own planet."
As the others all stared at Rimmer in disgust, he clenched his hand into a fist and bit his knuckles in frustration. Kryten looked sympathetically at Ace.
"Don't worry about him, sir. He'll be fine as soon as we find Mr. Lister." The Mechanoid turned to the screen. "Holly, would you please give us the co-ordinants of Mr. Lister's position?"
"Well...it's a bit tricky, but I'd say he's positioned on a chair in a way he's likely to fall off it soon. I don't know why you wanted to know that, though. I could just lead you to him."