by Rob Grant
'So what are we going to do? Are we going to let his death be a meaningless, empty gesture, or are we going to pull ourselves together and work out a way to get out of this mess? Now, I never thought I'd be saying this, but I reckon our first priority is to rescue Kryten. That's assuming the agonoid didn't kill him, of course. Now, let's run a quick check, make sure we're still spaceworthy and get moving.'
Rimmer considered it most unlikely that Kryten was alive, but even if the agonoid had literally ripped him to pieces, there might be a possibility of repairing him. In any case, they had at least to try and find him. A single, unarmed agonoid had accounted for their two strongest crew members in a matter of minutes, without breaking sweat, and if it hadn't been for Ace's heroic sacrifice, they would all be people pate by now. The prospect of facing an army of them with a force that consisted of one hologram and two pimply teenagers was not one to be relished.
'Damn!' The Cat tapped at a readout-dial on the pilot's control fascia. 'This readout better be busted.'
Rimmer stood and walked up to him. 'Which readout?'
'Oxygen supply readout.' The Cat thumped it again. 'Either it's broken, or we only have five minutes of air left.'
'Lister, can you run a cross-check on the diagnostics?'
Lister sighed and turned to the controls. He punched in the necessary commands. 'Uh, guys, there's good news, and there's bad news. The good news is, the oxygen readout isn't broken. That's also the bad news. We'd better get our helmets back on, sharpish.' As he turned away from the controls, he noticed a warning light flashing. 'Hang on, we've got a visitor.'
Rimmer glanced over at the pilot's display. The airlock was being opened. 'I don't understand — that door's sealed. You'd need the access code and a retina scan.'
They heard the inner door open in the mid-section behind them.
Lister punched at the keyboard. 'Hey, it's all right. The NaviComp's identified the retina scan: it's Kryten.'
Lister leapt up and bounded down the steps. He looked up and froze.
It was Kryten, all right. Only, he'd brought along some company.
He was being held aloft, helpless by the scruff of the neck, by a leering, razor-toothed agonoid.
FIVE
'I'm most awfully sorry, Mr Lister, sir,' Kryten fumbled with his fingers. 'He linked up to my CPU via my SCSI socket and dragged the access code out of me.'
'Yes,' the agonoid lowered Kryten to the floor, 'how unconscionably rude of me.' He slapped Kryten viciously across the head, sending him scudding on to the scanner table, which shattered spectacularly on impact. 'I do hate bad manners. So uncalled-for.' He put his hands behind his back and strolled up to Lister, looking him over like a prospective buyer on a used-car forecourt.
Lister backed away.
'Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to kill you.' Djuhn'Keep cooed reassuringly. 'I'm going to hurt you a lot, and for a very long time, but I have no intention of killing you. In fact, it'll be a lot more fun for me if you live to a very ripe old age. We're going to become very close, you and I.' He peered into the cockpit. 'You can come out of there.'
The Cat shrugged and strutted into the mid-section with considerable cool, under the circumstances.
The agonoid called, 'And you. The hologram cowering under that console at the front, there.'
Lister heard Rimmer's small voice say: 'I don't think so.'
Djuhn smiled. 'It will hurt a lot less if you come without my assistance.'
Slowly, Rimmer rose and walked out of the cockpit with his hands aloft.
'Why have you got your hands up?'
'I'm surrendering.'
The agonoid sighed. 'Look, I'd hate for us to get off on the wrong foot, so let me explain the set-up as clearly as possible, so we can all get on with the programme, and eliminate any confusion. There is no hope. There will be no mercy. You can't appeal to my better nature, because I don't have one. The only thing you have to look forward to now is death, and believe me, you'll come to cherish that prospect. For my part, I will use my considerable skills to keep you alive, and in constant agony. Any questions?'
Lister made eye contact with the Cat, who nodded slightly to signal understanding.
'Good. Now we're going to take this ship back to the mining vessel, where I have assembled a considerable array of treats and goodies I'd like to share with you...'
Lister yelled 'Now!' and lunged at the agonoid, as the Cat dived towards the bank of lockers where a bazookoid was stored.
Lister's flailing fists pounded at the agonoid's face, leaving his knuckles bruised and bloody. Djuhn simply reached out and flicked Lister's forehead and sent him crashing to the floor.
He turned his attention to the Cat, who cocked the bazookoid and aimed it at the agonoid's chest. Djuhn shook his head, amused. 'You must have your fun I suppose.' He stepped towards the Cat.
'Hold it right there, buddy,' the Cat hissed.
Djuhn simply kept walking.
'One more step' — the Cat swung the bazookoid's nozzle over towards the grounded Lister — 'and I kill him.'
Djuhn's smile collapsed. He looked at the Cat, then over at Lister. Was this a serious threat? Could destiny be so heartless as to lead him all this way, to bring the last human in the universe within his grasp, only to yank him away at the last possible moment?
Suddenly, there was a hiss, and the sound of fans grinding to a stop. Djuhn looked up. Something had happened to the oxygen supply. He wheeled round, aghast.
The human was on the floor, hyperventilating. Even in his distress, he grinned at Djuhn, and with his last gasp of air said, 'You lose, motherf---'
SIX
'... should be breathing now. Ah, yes.'
Lister opened his eyes to see Djuhn'Keep's face looking down at him. The face disappeared into a fog as Lister's breath misted over his helmet's visor.
The agonoid stood. 'Unfortunately, there's very little air left in your canisters. Certainly not enough to get you back to my pain palace in one piece. And I do so want you in one piece. At least for the moment.'
Lister sat up and looked around. They were in Starbug's engine-room facing the newly welded hull section. The Cat was crouching on Lister's left, wearing his gold lame spacesuit. Rimmer and Kryten were seated meekly on the deck to his right.
The agonoid was standing opposite, prodding at the oxygen regeneration unit with a sonic screwdriver. 'Ah, here's the problem. This OR unit is a complete mess. I'm surprised it held out as long as it did. Just bear with me a moment.'
As the agonoid fiddled with various tools, Kryten leaned over to Lister, and whispered, rather cryptically, 'Hold on.'
The agonoid glanced round, and then carried on with his repairs.' "Hold on, " you say? Hold on to what?'
'I was merely attempting to boost the human's moral. I meant "hold on" as in "hang on in there".'
Djuhn snickered. 'As in "hold on to hope", you mean? I thought we'd established the futility of that concept.'
There was a clunk, and the sound of fans whirring up to speed overhead.
'There. That should hold until we get back. Now then The agonoid crossed to the NaviComp terminal, opened a small panel on top of his head and dragged out a lead. He plugged the lead into the terminal. 'I'll just programme in the course and we'll be on our way.'
Kryten stood.
'Sit down.'
Ignoring the agonoid's bark, Kryten walked calmly along the corridor.
'Get back here, you plastic-faced buffoon.'
Kryten stooped under a gantry support strut and grabbed something off the deck. He turned round again and began walking back towards the agonoid.
He was holding a bazookoid.
'Honestly,' Djuhn smiled, incredulous. 'What are you going to do with that? Even if you hit me at point-blank range, it would hardly scratch me. Besides, you're programmed not to kill.'
Kryten shook his head. 'I'm not going to kill anyone.'
'Then put it down, before you hurt yourself.'
&n
bsp; 'As I said, sir.' He looked at Lister and widened his eyes. 'Hold on!' he yelled, and fired.
The blast ripped into the new hull section, and a roaring vacuum wind dragged at the air.
The bazookoid tore out of his hand and tumbled through the hole. Kryten snatched hold of a gantry girder and yanked at Rimmer's light bee, holding it safe.
Lister grabbed on to the strut behind him, but the Cat was caught unawares, and he'd slithered beyond reach of a handhold before he could react. Lister leaned over and grabbed hold of the Cat's boot.
Djuhn had been closest to the blast.
The sucking whirlwind lifted him off his feet and dragged him towards the gaping hole.
As he flew through the gap, feet first, his fingertips caught hold of the edge of the ripped panels, and he dangled there for a brief second before the weakened metal crumbled away, and his arms clawed impotently at the air as he swept through and out into space.
He jerked to a stop within ten yards of the ship.
Kryten looked over at the NaviComp, and saw why.
The lead from the agonoid's head was still plugged into the terminal.
It looked like the Cat was in grabbing distance of the lead.
Kryten yelled out, but his voice couldn't carry over the roar. He waved and gesticulated frantically to Lister.
Lister spotted him, followed his gestures towards the taut lead, and understood.
Straining and grunting, he dragged his leg back and hooked his knee around the strut, freeing his hand to activate his throat mike.
'Cat, man. The lead! Pull the lead out!'
The Cat looked up. He reached out. His fingertips were more than six inches short.
Lister hooked his boot behind his support strut. He couldn't be absolutely sure it was wedged firmly enough to hold both him and the Cat, but the agonoid had grabbed on to the lead and was hauling his way back towards them, so there was no choice but to try.
He let go and was yanked forward.
He looked back. The boot had held. How long it would hold, he couldn't be sure. But now the Cat could reach the lead.
He watched the agonoid leer at him, as the Cat stretched up and tugged the lead free.
The wire snaked out of the ship, and the escaping air that was roaring from the ship blasted the agonoid away from them.
He waved at them as he slowly disappeared into the cold eternal night.
Suddenly, Lister felt himself move forward.
He looked back, but the boot still seemed to be wedged behind the strut. He slid forward again.
The entire gantry was being sucked towards the hole.
On the plus side, that might work to their benefit: it might jam the gap sufficiently for them to get topside.
On the negative side, the huge bulk of collapsing metal might very well crush one, or both of them to death.
He watched, helplessly, as the girders groaned and bent and finally snapped, and the gantry crashed down towards him.
Lister closed his eyes.
Suddenly, there was silence.
Lister opened his eyes. The collapsed gantry was wedged into the hole.
The Cat was safe.
They both stood.
Rimmer's hologrammatic imaged fluttered up out of the wreckage. 'I think Kryten's bought it,' he said quietly.
Lister picked his way over the debris.
He saw Kryten's arm under a girder, the hand twitching spasmodically.
He grabbed the girder and pulled. He moved it just enough to see that the arm had been severed.
He looked around for the rest of him. 'Kryten?' he called, half-heartedly.
'Yes, sir?' Kryten's muffled voice filtered out from under the rubble.
'Where are you, man?'
'I'm pinned down under a rather large sheet of metal.'
'Are you all right?'
'I'm absolutely dandy, sir,' he chirped. 'Uhn, I don't suppose you've found an arm lying around, have you?'
Lister and the Cat clambered over the wreckage and started hauling away the debris.
Kryten kicked away the last girder and stood. He was one-armed and seriously dented, but all things considered, in pretty good shape.
He poked around the rubble, and found his arm. 'I'll attach this later, sirs. Right now, we'd better get this tea chest back to the lipstick-coloured vertically challenged one.'
'Wait a mo.' Rimmer stepped over the wreckage towards him. 'Is that entirely, altogether wise? Personally, I'd rather take my chances of surviving the airless vacuum of space than face up to another one of those demented bastards.'
'He's the last of them, sir,' Kryten smiled. 'When he linked up with me to wheedle out Starbug's access code, I managed to do a little poking around of my own. According to his memory banks, which are, quite frankly, obscene, he personally killed the rest of the agonoid population, so that he would have you all to himself to torture.'
'You're absolutely sure, Kryten? Because I'd hate...'
Suddenly, the engines began to rumble, and the ship lurched forward.
'Strange.' Kryten hobbled over to the NaviComp terminal. He stabbed at the keypad. 'Locked out. That's...' The terminal screen burst into life. A message appeared. It said, simply: 'SEE YOU IN SILICON HELL.'
Rimmer stepped up and peered over his shoulder. 'What does it mean?'
'It means...' Kryten turned to face him. 'It means he's infected the NaviComp with a virus. It means we're accelerating pell mell through the asteroid belt, without any means of steering the ship.'
SEVEN
Three men, six guns, thirty-six bullets.
His longcoat was stripped to rags, his hat colandered, his gun belt severed, trousers by his ankles. Nothing wounded, though. Nothing excepting his self-respect. Carton stood, not moving, as the echoes of gunfire floated off to the desert mountains.
War twirled his smoking weapons and holstered them. 'Now we got your attention, there's a little message for ya. It's from Pa. Says he wants you out of here by midnight, or he's coming for you, personal, like.'
'Thank you, boys. Tell Poppa "message received".'
War tugged on his reins. His horse bucked and snorted, spurting sulphurous fire that scorched Carton's boots, and the brothers galloped out of town, quick as that.
The saloon doors split open, and Jimmy and his cowpoke friends spilled out on to the porch. Jimmy smiled and with mockery in his voice said, 'You ain't leavin', are you, Sheriff?'
Young Billy fought his way out through the forest of legs and faced the crowd. 'Course'n he ain't leavin'. Are you, Sheriff?'
Carton shucked off his trousers and stepped heavily down into the street in his badly stained long johns.
Billy called after him. 'Tell 'em it ain't so, Sheriff. Tell 'em it ain't so!'
Carton unpinned his sheriff badge, tossed it over his shoulder and then slouched over to the jailhouse to get his things together.
The jailhouse doors groaned behind him. 'That's all right, boys,' Carton muttered, 'you'll be seein' the last of me soon enough.' He went into the empty cell and picked up his bedroll. A pint whisky bottle fell out and clattered to the floor. Carton stooped and picked it up. It was empty, of course, but he put the neck of the bottle to his lips and sucked it anyway, just in case there were any fumes left in it.
He fumbled for his keys and unlocked his personal drawer in the desk. He took out an expensive-looking leather case and flipped the catches. Inside, tucked snug in the green baize were his fancy shootin' irons. He slipped one out and let it lie in his palm. It balanced just perfect. Sixteen inches of tempered steel, and it felt like no weight at all. He spun the cylinder. Silent. He rubbed his fingertips over the flawless black pearl grip. He'd built the guns himself, back when he was somebody.
He laid the gun back in its recess, tenderly, like it was the bones of a martyred saint, and closed the lid. He figured the guns ought to be worth a couple of bottles of mind-rot if he traded them over at the saloon. Sure as hell wouldn't be needing them where he wa
s going.
A shadow slid across his desk. Carton looked up at the stranger standing in his doorway. 'Office is closed, friend. Sheriff's going out of town.'
The stranger stepped in, anyway. 'Don't you recognize me?'
Carton studied the man. He was dressed in the time-respected regalia of a steamboat gambler. Tailed jacket, fancy shirt with a lacy front. Under the pear-shaped brim of his neatly blocked hat he wore the back of his hair in snake tails. There was something oddly accustomed about the fellow all right, but Carton couldn't place it. He flicked his eyes to the array of wanted posters on his notice-board. That was all he needed right now. Some low-life varmint out to gun him down for some past slight. The stranger's face wasn't depicted in the gallery of desperadoes, though.
'Your face is kinda familiar, friend, but I can't put a name to it.'
'How about Red Dwarf? That mean anything?'
'Red Dwarf? Ain't he the little feller used to ride shotgun with the Chancy gang?'
The stranger exhaled. 'I thought this might be hard.'
Carton tucked the gun case under his arm. 'Look here, hombre, I don't know what business you figured you had with me, but if it's trouble you want, I ain't complyin'. I just resigned my position, see: don't sport the badge no more. I don't care if you shot up every train and rustled every head of cattle between the Badlands of New Mexico and Paris, France, Europe. I ain't the Law no more. I'm fresh out of fight. So if you'd care to stand aside and let me by, friend, I'd be handsomely obligated to you.'
The stranger put some space between himself and the doors, and Carton gathered up his bedroll and strode on by him.
Out on the sidewalk, there were two other strangers. They both triggered something, too, in what Carton was passing off as his mind these days, but he'd be danged if he could figure what. One was dressed in black, from his sombrero to his boots, with fancy decorative braiding all over him, and a pair of revolvers that looked pretty business-like. He was smiling, and Carton didn't much like the teeth the smile laid bare. Those incisors looked like they'd be more at home in the snarl of a mountain lion. His taller compadre kept his thin features and flared nostrils in the shade of a Tom Mix ten-gallon hat, and wore a bronco buster's chaps over his blue jeans. He had a strange expression, this one; wide-eyed and hopeful, nodding like he was urging Carton to recognize him.
