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Gentlemen, thank you for attending the meeting.
Now, let me begin by saying that it can't have escaped anyone's attention
that things have been getting rather strained around here of late.
It's no secret that morale is on the floor.
We've lost all trace of Red Dwarf, tempers are strained.
I don't know about you but I certainly feel better.
And thank you for your contributions, gentlemen.
See you at next week's morale meeting. Marvellous!
Good meeting.
What's eating him?
Well, I'm no psychologist, sir, but maybe
the bleak lonely pointless emptiness of our hopeless futile predicament
is beginning to get to him.
Autopilot alert.
Storm front ahead. Switching to manual.
It's a big one, too late to go round! It's right on us!
Stellar fog - tightly-packed particles from an exploded supernova.
Our scanners won't be able to penetrate more than a few metres.
Slowing to minimum.
Gentlemen, absolute concentration til we get through this squall.
There could be anything lurking out there.
Don't worry, bud. If there's anything out there, we'll spot it.
Anyone hurt?
No, but my pride sure needs mouth-to-mouth.
Mr. Lister, sir! He's out cold!
All stop. Let's get him up to the obs room.
How is he?
Not good, sir. Perhaps you'd better look away.
I know you can't stand the sight of blood.
Don't worry, Kryten. It's okay when it's Lister's.
Impossible!
What?
Look!
Mr. Lister is a droid!
He's a what?
There's no doubt about it. He's entirely mechanical, a 3000 series.
Made in Taiwan. Look! Look, he has a 24-hour callout number.
This doesn't tie up. If he wasn't human, I'd have known by his scent.
X- rays confirm it.
This is so strange. Mr. Lister's always been an icon of mine,
and now I found he's an earlier model, and technically I outrank him.
An earlier model? Then how come he looks so much more sophisticated than you?
Sir, just because I have a head shaped like a freak formation of mashed potatoes
does not mean that I am unsophisticated.
Alright then, why does he look more realistically human?
Humans have always found exact duplicates rather disturbing, sir.
The 3000 series was notoriously unpopular. Most of them were recalled.
A few slipped the net and went undercover to make new lives in society.
Do you think he knows?
Unlikely. He probably reprogrammed his own memory to escape detection.
This is going to crack him up, devastate him! Who's going to tell him?
I'll write you into my will if you let it be me.
I suggest you leave this to me, sirs. I'll have a talk with him droid-to-droid.
Okay. We'll get going and try to get out of this damn fog
before it drains our solar batteries.
What happened? What hit us?
Something in the stellar fog, sir, didn't show up on the scans.
Sir, do you remember who your parents were?
Kryten, you know I don't. I was found under a pool table, in a box.
Did anyone ever tell you what was written on that box?
Were the words "kit" or "paint before assembly" written on the side?
It's just that while you were under,
wediscovered something rather disturbing about you.
It's that tatoo on me inner thigh, isn't it?
Well, I don't really love Peterson,
he just got me so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing.
It's not the tatoo, sir. There's no easy way of breaking this gently.
I'm afraid, sir, you are not human. You're a droid.
I'm a what?
You're a mechanical, 3000 series. Technically subordinate to me!
What does this all mean?
Well, in broad terms, I get the front seat in the cockpit,
and you're in charge of the laundry!
Kryten; And I want to see creases!
Kryten, have a heart, man. I'm in major stress-related shock here. overload.
You're a droid, you don't have real emotions.
It's just syntha-shock. Now stop thinking like a human and go about your duties.
Kryten, Why are you being so heartless?
I looked after you. You encouraged me to break
my programming and ape human behaviour.
Now I find out you're no better than I!
But worst of all, the most bitter pill to swallow,
for four long years, I had to hand-scrub the gussets of your longjohns.
Now, unless you want to wallow in the eternal fires of Silicon Hell,
I suggest you bring a tray of refreshments up to the cockpit, pronto!
What was the jolt?
It's a mystery, bud. Nothing on the scanners, nothing on visual.
It's like we've gone through some sort of energy pocket.
Still, it looks like we're out of it now.
Better run a crosscheck and see if this phenomena is mentioned in of our databases.
Tea, all! Sorry I took so long but I didn't know where anything was.
Let me see that tray, please.
Why?
That's "why, Mr. Kryten sir"... You call those triangular sandwiches?
Did you use a z-square? I think not! And the chocolate fingers display is laughable.
Don't just pile them higgledy-piggledy onto the plate.
Make them into an attractive interlaced log cabin structure or something.
This will just not do! Kindly return to the gallery and start again.
Okay... sir. This doesn't feel right... Not right at all...
What a charlatan all these years.
Any idea what hit us yet?
Wait, wait, here's something.
Reports of artificial stellar fogs which contain reality mindfields.
Reality what?
Bubbles or pockets of unreality which when encountered create false realities
designed to disorient and drive off potential looters.
From what?
It's a defence device fitted to space corp test ships which are fitted
with prototype drives so awesome in their power
that they have to be safeguarded at all costs.
So we just crashed through an unreality pocket?
Which created a false reality making us believe Mr. Lister was... Oh my...
You mean he's not a...
No...
Tea's upstairs.
Sir, I, ah...
What do you think of the picket fence?
I'm not happy with it meself.
But I'll go away and do it again if you want.
Sir, may I see your arm?
Smeg! It looks normal - human!
Someone else tell him. I've got gussets to scrub!
Starbug is small.
We can probably pick our way through without hitting any more unreality bubbles.
Someone's gone to plenty big trouble to keep space craft out of here,
and it's got to be worth finding out why.
But how can we guarantee we'll -
- We hit one! - We hit one!
That's what I said.
Where's the Cat?
I'm here.
They've taken the Cat! He's gone!
I'm not gone - I'm here!
Someone just erased him from existence.
Then how come we still remember him?
Remember who?
I don't remember.
Hey buds, don't do this to me! You can't forget me. I'm unforgettable!
I don't get this! We're passing through an unreality pocket and everything's normal!
What do you mean everything's normal? I feel invisible!
This doesn't make any sense! All systems check. The three of us are here as normal.
The four of us! There's four of us! Look!
I'm here! Can't you hear me, can't you feel me?
We're getting some bumping in!
Passing back into normal space.
What are you doing?
Can you see me?
Of course I can see ya.
You all forgot who I was. Don't you remember?
This is too weird in here. Let's quit while we can.
What we have to do is keep our heads.
Boy! This is worse than triple-strength catnip!
The pockets are getting denser and closer together. We're never going to...
make it!
We can't take much more of this.
Well, just ignore it.
All these unreality pockets are designed to make you feel absurd and disorientated.
He's right! Let's just keep going and we'll get out the other side.
All ahead stop. We have got to talk.
Kryten, how far would you say it is to the epicentre?
At our current speed, about another three days, sir.
Okay, you win. Let's get out of here.
We successfully penetrated the mindfield, sir. We're through to the epicentre.
So what was it protecting?
Derelicts! According to the computer, it's from the 28th century.
And it's capable of time travel?!
Crew?
All dead. This was the maiden voyage.
They contracted an influenza virus on an incursion to the 20th century.
Before they died, they programmed the autopilot for deep space
and generated the mindfield to prevent the machine from falling into the wrong hands.
Does this mean what I think it means? We board it, strip out the drive -
and bingo! We've got ourselves a time machine!
Let's see if the sucker works!
Sirs, choose any year.
Let's go to someplace nice and safe and dull. How about 1422?
How about 1421?
What's the difference?
No difference. I just wanted to make it look like I was paying attention.
1421 loaded, sir. August 17th. Engaging the time drive.
Hey, we did it!
Indeed we did. All the ship's chronometers indicate
that this is August the 16th, in the year 1421, just one day out.
Give us visual. Let's see what it's like out there.
Okay, punching it up.
Again? We're still where we were!
Of course. We're still in deep space, sir,
only now we're in deep space in the 15th century. Isn't it wonderful?
Taking her back to the present.
Keyed in. Engaged.
So... forgive me if I'm being thicker than the offspring of a village idiot
and a TV weathergirl, but what exactly was the point of that little exercise?
Well, at the moment, yes, but should we ever acquire a faster-than-light drive,
we will have the combination to travel anywhere and anywhen.
Picking up a craft.
He's right. Some kind of craft. Small. Here it comes.
It's a Jupiter Mining Corporation core sign.
Some kind of transport vehicle:
colour green, lifeforms four... craft name "Starbug"?!
Call me crazy, but that all sounds weirdly familiar. Who is it?
It's us from the future! Hey - incoming SOS message!
Don't punch it up! Close com!
Why?
If that vessel is this vessel, sir, it almost certainly contains our future selves.
The implications of making contact could be devastating!
The human brain is not designed to cope with knowing its own future.
Yeah, but Kryten, obviously we've been in some kind of major trouble.
Otherwise we wouldn't have shown up.
No, Kryten's got a point. It's too dangerous to make contact.
What if we discover that one of us is dead? Who could handle that?
We all could if it was you.
They're trying us again! Come on, they're in trouble!
We can't just leave them out to dry!
Well, in that case, sir, I suggest that I am left alone to make contact.
I can give them whatever assistance they require,
then erase my memory of the entire event.
Open com. Present Starbug calling future Starbug. We are ready to communicate.
Well, how did it go? Everything okay?
Mr. Lister, sir... I love you! You know that, don't you?
I'd hate you to... go anywhere without knowing that, sir.
So what's the SP, Kryts? Can you tell us anything?
A little, sir. They are indeed our future selves
from some fifteen years hence. What a senseless waste!
Listen, if something happens to me, I want to know.
All I am allowed to divulge is that their time drive has developed a fault,
and they can only travel forward. They jumped to a period
where they knew we would be in order
to copy some components from our own drive.
So am I actually going to get to meet me? My knees have turned to jelly!
Nobody will be meeting anybody.
You must be sealed in the upper deck before they set a space boot on board.
So when are they coming?
Immediately. I'll serve your supper in the obs room.
I thought I'd whip you up a nice little curry
with jam rolly-polly and a big jug of chilled margarita.
They're all my favourites!
I know!
How can we have margaritas? I thought we were out of tequila?
I put a little miniature bottle aside, sir, for... no particular reason...
And I thought that since today had...
no special significance... it would be appropriate... to...
Just go, Kryten!
Thank you, sir.
His favourite bowl... his little cup...
the tin opener he uses to pick his ears clean with...
Everything okay?
Oh, yup yup. Those darn onions get you every time!
What onions?
Ah, the onions I'm about to peel.
I always get a little emotional when I have to deprive an onion of its skin.
Don't Nixon me, man! Tell me the truth!
I die, don't I? I mean, I'm dead, aren't I? I don't make it...
All I'm at liberty to disclose, sir, is that all four members of the Starbug crew
will be boarding this vessel.
Yeah, but I'm not amongst them, right?
One of their number is called Dave Lister.
Now, you'll have to excuse me. I've already said too much.
Hang on a minute, I'm really confused now. Are you saying I survive?
I can say no more. Please, let us not squabble on this of all days.
Careful with those chilies, Kryten.
At the rate you're going, there'll be none left for tomorrow.
Look, whatever it is, there's nothing you can do about it. It's fate.
I just don't get it. Am I dead or am I alive? If I'm dead, how can I come on board?
What precisely are you doing, bud?
I'm hacking into the security cameras. Kryten turned off all the monitors,
so I'm rigging up the mediscan. When those johnnies come on board, I want to see 'em.
Docking complete. Opening airlock doors. Gentlemen, welcome aboard.
Ah, Mr. Rimmer sir, come in, come in.
Did we actually used to live like this? What a godawful depressing little hole.
We're used to the good things in life now, bud.
Are you really me?
Will you take a look at him. Did I really used to look that goofy?
What is that you have on your head? I hope you have a quarantine license for it.
We're time travellers now, and a lot of our business involves going back in history.
I have to look incognito. Frankly, I can't afford going around looking like
I've swapped heads with a damaged crash dummy.
I rather think we're overstepping the bounds of agreed conversation here.
Is, um... Mr. Lister... did you bring him?
Sir, you look terrific. I was expecting something much worse.
Don't worry about me, Kryts, I'm fine. Absolutely dandy.
Well, blow me! You've hardly changed at all.
If I wasn't told about the accident, I don't think I'd even have noticed.
Yo, we're in! Oh my god - look at Rimmer!
Well, I can't have changed much. I'm a hologram.
Wrong. You're two meals away from being a sumo wrestler.
Let me see!
Am I there?
Oh yes.
What do I look like?
I can't actually see quite clearly.
The light is reflecting from off the top of your head.
What are you talking about?
Ha ha! You're as bald as a plucked chicken, man.
Let me see! Let me see!
Wait, wait! I want to see if I'm there.
I don't seem to be there. Just you two, Kryten... Oh my god...
What? What is it?
Ohhhhh dear!
What do I do to end up like that?
That's tragic. That is the saddest thing I've ever seen in my life...
What happened to my butt? Buddy, you could park a plane in that crease.
So what if you're fat and bald. That's what happens when you get older.
Look at me - I'm a brain in a jar!
Self self self self self!
We've got to find out what's going on.
We've been saving it for a special occasion.
And what could be more special than this. To the future!
To the past!
This is poison, bud!
Haven't you anything better than this hogwash? We're used to the best!
Kryten, we're epicures now.
We travel through history enjoying the very best time has to offer.
Dolphin sweetmeats, roast suckling elephants,
baby seal hearts stuffed with dove pate. Food fit for emperors!
We socialize with all of the greatest figures in history,
the Hapsburgs, the Borgias...
Why, only last week, Louis the Sixteenth threw a banquet especially in our honour.
The man is a complete delight - urbane, witty, charming...
He was an idiotic despot who lived in the most obscene luxury
while the working classes starved in abject poverty.
Well, we certainly didn't see any of that while we were there!
And his wife's an absolute cutie.
I think they're our favourite hosts. If you don't count the Hitlers.
You're good friends with the Hitlers?!
It's just a social thing. We don't talk about his work.
We just have a few laughs, play canasta,
and enjoy the odd game of mixed doubles with the Goerings.
I don't believe what I'm hearing!
Look, you have to understand, we travel back and forth throughout the whole of history,
and naturally we want to sample the best of everything.
It's just a bit unfortunate that the finest things tend to be
in the possession of people who are judged to be a bit dodgy.
Herman Goering is a "bit dodgy"!
What has become of you all? You've all abandoned your morals,
been seduced by power and wealth.
All you're interested in now is indulging your carnal desires.
And could we tell you some stories about _that_!
I don't recognize any of you! You're just amoral self-serving scum,
freeloading your way through history!
Good grief! I can't believe I used to be such a stuck-up pompous prig.
Okay. That's it. You've got two minutes to get off this ship.
I don't know how we became you,
but I sure as hell don't intend to help you carry on doing what you're doing.
But we need to examine the calibration on your time drive's maxic-factor.
That's one minute forty.
Shooting us would be like killing himself in the future. He won't do it.
What have I got to lose? I'm in a jar.
Gentlemen, let's put an end to this, why don't we?
But without the calibration date, we'll be stranded out here in the middle of nowhere.
Fifty seconds.
C'mon, let's go.
You'll have changed your mind when you've thought it through.
Twenty seconds. Into the airlock and git.
I knew it would be a mistake to see the future.
Now our whole lives will be coloured by the fact
that we're going to end up becoming people we despise.
Threat warning - vessel off the stern! They've got a missile lock on us!
Our future selves are attacking us!
They're nuts!
Direct hit! The gyroscope's out!
They're trying to disable us!
Another lock!
Incoming message!
Gentlemen, we have no intention of being deprived of the opulence and luxury
the time drive provides. Either you give us access to the data we require,
or be prepared to be blasted out of the sky.
But if you kill us, you'll have cease to exist.
Better that than to be forced to live like you, like rats trapped together,
marooned in deep space. Your answer, thirty seconds.
So what do we do?
Have we got any chance of winning?
Their craft is greatly upgraded. We have no chance whatsoever.
Then I say fight!
Mr. Rimmer?
Better dead than smeg!
Cheers! Cat?
Better dead than sofa-side butt.
Kryten?
Better anything than that toupee!
Shields up! Arming lasers!
Bringing her around.
Target acquired!
Locking on - firing!
Direct hit!
Starbug thrusters! Nice shooting, sir!
Bringing her around to reserve.
Threat warning! They've got a lock on us!
I'm going for the main fuel tank!
They're in your sight!
Locked on - fire!
- Mr. Lister! - Is he okay?
He's dead, sir!
The hull's gonna go. We'll all be dead in a minute.
CAT!?
..Dead... But there may be -
Kryten?! There may be a what? A way out of this?
Is that what you were gonna say?...
Speak, Kryten! How can we change what's happening?!
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