Maybe it's the moonlight but I've got to admit
you're looking pretty good for a corpse.
Philip, I can explain everything.
Let me save you the trouble. It was you that planned Pallisters murder,
but your twin sister Maxine squibbed him off.
You decided to take the rap, knowing you had the perfect alibi in me.
That's why you came on so strong that night: Play me for the dumb sap I am.
Philip, it wasn't like that, not with you.
Oh yeah?
So what you going to do, turn me in?
Watch me do the sit down dance in the electric chair at Sing Sing?
No, sweetlips, I'm gonna let you kiss me.
Sir I think you should come and take a look at this.
Sir it really is quiet urgent.
I want you Loretta, I want you body next to mine.
I want you like you were that Tuesday night. Kiss me.
Honestly, you haven't been off this machine in a month!
Choose you character.
OHHHGGHHH, honestly, I just want to talk to him.
Ohhh anything, Sammy the Squib,
crack shot with Tommy gun, engage.
So frivolous!
Mr Lister sir?
Hmmm, curious.
Hi Kryten. What are you doing here?
Sir, I've just got the results of the chemical scan,
I've discovered minute amounts of millenium oxide in the local vicinity.
Couldn't be more pleased for you. See you in an hour.
Sir, I believe we've wandered accidentally into a rogue simulant hunting zone.
That would explain the devastation on the derelicts where we picked up this very game.
Philip, who is it?
Ohhh, it's Sammy the Squib.
Orrrhh, good evening Miss.
Don't kill me Sammy, I'll do anything, kill him. I'll come away with you Sammy,
it'll be just like the old days. I never stopped loving you Sammy. Kiss me.
You're trash, aren't you?
I'm programmed to be trash.
Sir, you have to turn off the AR console.
We have to close down and continue on silent running in order to avoid detection.
Ten minutes.
Sir.
Five minutes. I'll keep my hat on.
Now.
Philip?
I'll be back sweetlips. Stay bad.
Kryten, you are a total gooseberry. Next time I play on the AR machine
I'm going to give you some money and send you to the pictures.
At last, we have silent running. OK, long range scanners are down,
the only early warning we've got is you. Stay alert.
OK bud, I'll keep my nose peeled.
You took your time. Where've you been?
I was in the AR machine.
Again?
What'd you mean again?
Everyone knows you only use the AR machine to have sex.
That is not true.
Yes, true. It's pathetic watching you grind away day after day.
It's like a dog that's missing it's masters leg.
What's all the hullabaloo?
We've wandered into rouge simulant country.
Bio-mechanical killers created for a war that never took place.
Some of them escaped the dismantelling programme
and now they prowl around deep space
searching for a quarry worthy of their mettle.
I say we should abandon the pursuit of Red Dwarf and flee from the zone.
Give up the chase? Are you kidding?
Wait, my nose is getting something.
Powering up.
Scanners report a battle class cruiser on intercept.
It's rougue simulants all right.
Recommend immediate total and unequivical surrender.
Sir, surrender is the worst thing we could do.
They despise humans and all forms of humanoid life.
They believe you to be the vermin of the universe sir.
I didn't know they'd met him.
Getting a message. Punching it up.
State your species and purpose.
One of us will have to speak to them.
Who's the least human looking? Listy, the mike's all yours.
Wait a minute. I've got an idea. Stall them with static.
Kryten mid-section. Cat, you too.
Why do you delay? State your species and purpose. You have one minute.
Lister, what the hell are you doing?
Wait a minute, nearly ready... OK, stand by to transmit.
Incoming.
I am Tarka Dall, an ambassador of the great Vindaloovian Empire.
Scanners report a human life on your vessel. Is this so?
Humans! The Vindaloovian People despise all humans.
They are the vermin of the Universe. Is that not right Bindi Baji?
You bet, we hate them. Scum, scum, scum, scum, scum!
The Vinadloovian Empire is pledged to exterminate them all.
We will not rest until out task is completed.
Errrrrr, Lister.
Hi.
How's it going Bud?
A human, a humanoid, a hologrammatical human
and a mechanoid who is a slave to humans.
I had hoped for so much more.
I've no idea who you are, but boarding this vessel is an act of war.
Ergo, we surrender.
Primitive! You will be no sport at all. I have no alternative.
How long have we been out?
According to the navicomp, three weeks.
Strange.. the drive interface has been upgraded, and so have the engines.
And if this readout is correct, we've been armed. Laser cannons.
They've totally upgraded the whole ship.
They've even got rid of the squeak on the seat tilt control.
We have made some improvements to your craft.
Now at least you may prove to be of some small amusement.
You have two Earth minutes before we attack.
Let's get out of here.
Wait, I know this game. It's called cat and mouse,
and there's only one way to win; don't be the mouse.
What are you saying?
I'm saying, the mouse never wins. Not unless you believe those lying cartoons.
We don't run, we strike. It's the last thing they'll be expecting.
No, the last thing they'll be expecting is for us to turn into ice skating mongooses
and to dance the Bolero. And your plan makes about as much sense.
I say go with it.
Agreed.
You're going to go with one of my plans? Are you nuts?
What happens if we all get killed? I'll never hear the last of it!
What are they doing? Power up the weapons!
Nailed them.
Fluke hit.
Take them with us.
Can't return fire.
Hack into their navigation computer. Transmit the Armageddon Virus.
What is it?
The navicomp, something's wrong.
See you in Silicon Hell.
Shutdown all network links. The navicomp has been infected with a virus.
The navicomp has frozen us out, we're locked on this course.
If we carry on ahead at this speed, how long before we hit trouble?
Well if you define trouble as a rather large moon directly in our path, about 38 minutes.
Sir, the only solution is for me to contract the virus myself,
analyze it's structure and attempt to create a software antidote
before it wipes out my core program.
Do I have your permission to sacrifice myself, sirs?
Do Lemmings like cliffs? Granted!
I am going to have to create a dove program.
Dove program?
A dove program spreads peace through the system,
obliterating the viral cells as it goes.
The virus is extremely complex. I will have to dedicate all my run time to its solution.
Shutting down all non essential systems.
Is there anything we can do? Can we help?
Watch my dreams.
Twenty three minutes to impact. Any changes?
Getting worse. Weaker and weaker.
We're getting something.
What is this?
I think we've tapped directly into whatever passes for Kryten's sub-concious.
Why's he a Sheriff in some old western?
Must be how his core program is coping with the battle against the virus.
For whatever reason it's converted the struggle into some kind of dream.
Well, well, well sheriff, fancy seeing a man of your sober disposition
in a low down drinking establishemnt.
Now, now boys, I don't want any trouble. Just doing my rounds.
You shouldn't ought to have done that Jimmy.
Why don't you try it, Sheriff. They say you used to be faster
than a toilet stop in rattlesnake country.
Sorry I tripped over your boot there Mr Jimmy sir.
Arrrhhheeemm. Didn't mean any harm by it.
Give me two fingers of your best sipping liquor,
Miss Lola, and make it the smooth stuff.
The stuff where you get your eyesight back after two days. Guaranteed.
The Apocalypse boys is here. They's asking for you, Sheriff.
I'll be right out.
I don't believe I've had the pleasures, sirs.
The name's Death. And these here're my brothers. Brother War...
Brother Famine...
and Brother Pestilence.
Well, you seem like a nice neighbourly bunch of boys. How can I be of service?
We want your sorry ass out of here. You got one hour.
Twice in one lifetime! When you're hot, you're hot.
If we link up the artificial reality console to Kryten's mind,
we should be able to project directly into his dream state
like it was a normal computer game.
What did I tell you? We don't even have to leave the room!
What about me?
We'll shut all extraneous systems and power up your hard light drive.
Come on guys, lets get these wagons rolling.
There we go, I've loaded in some characters
from an AR western game. Choose a player from 1 to 3.
Two.
Here you go, you're the Riveria Kid, special skills ace gun slinger. Rimsy?
Uno.
One. Dangerous Dan McGrew,special skills, bare fist fighting.
Which leaves me with Brett Riverboat, knife man.
And we definitely can't get hurt?
No, it's just like a normal computer game, you can get out at anytime.
There's a button on the inside of the glove, when you want to get out,
just clap. OK, Riveria, OK Dangerous. Lets mosey on into town.
I've seen Westerns, I know how to speak cowboy.
Dry white wine and Perrier please. And what about you two chaps?
Rimmer, what westerns have you seen? Butch Accountant and the Yuppie Kid?
Leave this to me, this sounds like one for the Riveria Kid!
Ehhh, Senorita, re-tequila por favor.
Very smooth.
I was expecting something with a little more kick to it.
I don't suppose you've got any ginger ale mixers.
I'll take that as a no then, I'll have it neat.
Sorry, what were the choices again?
You'll have to forgive our friend, he's a souple of Gunmen short of a posse.
OK. You're a fat bearded git with breath that could knock-out a grizzly.
Take the lot, man. Rimmer, what is wrong with you?
Relax! You said yourself, Lister, no-one can hurt us.
Besides, you're forgetting: I'm Dangerous Dan McGrew,
Bare Fist Fighter Extra-ordinaire.
Here Lola, all my valuables are in this here box.
You can have it all for one bottle of mind rotter.
Mr Sad Git or what?
Kryten it's us, man.
Sorry friend, I don't believe I've had the pleasure.
Kryten, don't you know who we are, why you're here?
You're fighting an electronic virus, you're trying to create a dove program.
Some sort of software antidote to wipe it out.
I'll drink to that.
Listen to him pooch head, the virus is winning,
you've got to get your head together and start fighting it.
Want a drink Sheriff? Why don't you come and take one?
Now now Jimmy, there's no need to be going make me look foolish.
Come on Sheriff, jump! You can get higher than that!
Leave him alone.
Just having a little fun, Mr Swankypants.
The names Brett Riverboat, knifeman. Let's see how good you are.
Son of a...
Frank, Nuke, line his lungs with lead.
Who in the heck are you?
The call me the Kid, the Riveria Kid!
Well, Riveria Kid, let's see if your shooting is a fancy as your dancing.
He shot the damn bullets out of the air!
Well, it's been mighty dandy meeting you boys,
but if I'm not out of here by sun-up
the buzzards will be fighting the lizards for my gizzards.
If he leaves town, we're dead. Stop him!
Marvellous.
Hey buddy!
Hold it!
You gotta stay!
This is a job for the Riveria Kid!
But boys you don't understand, I've got to leave. Look it's ten to Death.
OK, we've got ten minutes to sober him up and get him in shape. Come on.
This is it Kryten, the answer's in these guns somehow. Doves, dove program.
I don't know, I really don't know.
Wait, somethings coming back now. You sir.
Whenever I look at you I get an image of curry and early morning breath
that could cut through bank vaults.
You sir. There's something familiar about you too, I get a name,
SmmmEE, SmmEEgGG HHHeeeDD.
Smeghead?
That's it!
He remembers me.
The guns Kryten, do the guns mean anything to you?
Something, they mean something... if only I had more time.
PSSSTTT, company.
Got yourself a little help there, Sheriff?
Now I remember you. You're a computer virus, travelling from machine to machine,
overwriting the core program.
Have infection, will travel: that's me.
Lets see if we can't tip the balance here a little...
What is he doing?
He's stalling. He's spotted us for what we are,
a bunch of mean macho bad ass desperados.
We're going to kick his boney butt clean across the town. Enjoy the show.
Who's got the guts to go with me one on one,
hand to hand, mano a mano?
Damn, I've lost my special skills.
Rimmer, the virus has spread to the AR unit. We've lost our special skills.
Ahhh, Mr War sir, it would appear
that due to circumstances completely beyond my control,
there's been a bit of a cock up in the bravado department.
I may indeed have come across as being more brave than in fact I am.
Exit, exit.
We're sealed in.
Get the helmets off.
It won't move.
Cat the back.
I got one of my gloves off... and a boot too.
Ohh brilliant, now you're paralysed compeletely down your left hand side.
Ohhh, me nose!
I've almost got it.
You're pulling my nose off!
Here it comes.
The helmet's coming off.
We're gonna cut you up so small the worms aren't even going to have to chew.
You can't frighten me, I'm always scared. LISTERRRRR!
What now?
It's down to Kryten.
Well Sheriff. Now it's just little old you.
I'm not afraid Mr Death sir. I believe my friends have bought me enough time
to complete the antidote program.
Now, if you'll forgive the rather confrontational imperative,
go for your guns you scum sucking mollascs.
I did it! I created an antidote.
Two minutes till impact. Come on!
How long will it take?
Just a few seconds. How long to impact?
Just a few seconds.
Loading it up... it's going into the navicomp.
Eight seconds. Seven.
Nearly there.
Five. Four. Three. Two.
We're not going to make it!
IMPACT.
YEEEEEEHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!