No Fragments Archive 10: Diskmags/nf_archive_10.iso/MAGS/BOS/BOSMAG1B.MSA/BOS_REDDWARF

Text File | 1987-04-21 | 31KB | 772 lines

******************************************************************
*                   RED DWARF - BY J.DAVIDSON                    *
******************************************************************

This  column aims to talk about anything to do with Red  Dwarf,  I
need  your  help,  so send all your news,  gossip and  just  about
anything to do with this fab series to the usual  B.O.S.  address.
To  start off,  this month i've included a script from one of  the
earlier Red Dwarf series, Queeg. I hope you find it funny. I do.

RED DWARF Season II Episode 5 - Queeg
-------------------------------------

HOLLY: Three million years from Earth, the mining ship Red Dwarf. It's crew:
  Dave Lister, the last human being alive; Arnold Rimmer, a hologram of his
  dead bunkmate and a creature who evolved from the ship's cat. Message ends.
  Additional: Our biggest enemy is going space crazy through loneliness. The
  only thing that helps me maintain my slender grip on reality is the
  friendship I share with my collection of singing potatoes.

----------

The bunk room. Cat is on a chair, listening to a personal stereo, Lister on the

bottom bunk. Rimmer is playing draughts with a skutter. Lister is filling out a

questionnaire in a woman's magazine.

LISTER: (Reading) "19. When you are alone in bed, what do you wear? Is it:
  a) Nothing at all, b) A flannelette nightie, or c) A sexy black negligee?"
  ( He looks down at his London Jets T-shirt.) C. "20. Do you think your boobs
  are: a) Too small, b) Just right or c) Too large?" (He feels one breast.)
  Definitely too large! So what's me rating? "Mainly C's: You sure are one foxy
  lady: sexy, sensual and you don't mind showing it." Yee-es! I'm a sex beast!
CAT: (Listening to personal stereo) Yow, Yeah, Yee-oww, oooh, yea-oww!
RIMMER: DO YOU MIND?!
CAT: What? Yeaaah, yeee-owww!
RIMMER: I'M TRYING TO CONCENTRATE.
CAT: Yeeeeeh, I can't hear you, yow...
LISTER: What are you listening to?
CAT: Owww! Isn't this great?!? Yoooow!

Lister takes the tape box from Cat.

LISTER: (Reading from box.) "Robert Hardy reads 'Tess Of The D'Urbevilles'"?!?
  Let's have a listen. ( He listens for a few seconds, then joins in Cat's
  ecstatic howls.) The tape must have got twisted, man! This is really good!"
RIMMER: EXCUSE ME !!! I'm in the middle of a tactical calculation which could

  well swing this entire game.
LISTER: Rimmer, you've lost, man.

It's true. He has only one piece left, stuck up in one corner and surrounded by
the skutter's double pieces.

RIMMER: There's plenty of <space for manouver. >
LISTER: You've only got one move you can make and then he zaps you.
RIMMER: Admittedly, at first glance that is indeed the way it looks. What
  you're failing to take into consideration is that El Skutto here has to go
  back on duty in.. (checks his watch)  ... 4 minutes and 31 seconds. And if he

  goes before the game is concluded, I win by default. 4 minutes, 15. (He
  starts to sing, English football supporter style, to the tune of "Auld Lang
  Syne":) Riiimm-eerr! Riiimm-eerr! Riimer, Riimer!

The skutter gives him the two-fingered salute.

LISTER: You're a piece of dirty filthy cheating scum, aren't you?
RIMMER: Absolutement! And that is why I'll win.Because I have the ability to
  think my way round problems rather than sticking to the straight, pre-
  programmed lines. That's why men are so better than machines.
LISTER: Oh, I don't know, you know. I had this Geography teacher, Miss Foster.
  She took us on a school summer camp trip to Deganwy. I had the tent next
  to hers, right. And in the middle of the night I was woken up by this really
  weird noise. _She_ didn't think men were better than machines.

Talking of machines, Holly puts in an appearanse.

HOLLY: What's happening then, dudes?
LISTER: Oh, bog all.
HOLLY: Hey up, I've forgotten what I was going to say now.
RIMMER: Well, it can't be that important, then, can it?

He is proved to be as wrong as ever when the whole ship shakes under a
tremendous impact. Everything is thrown sideways - Lister falls out of bed, Cat

is knocked off his stool, and the table and draught-board go flying. Star Trek
eat your heart out!

HOLLY: That's it, yeah. Look out, a meteor is about to hit the ship. I knew it
  would come back to me.
CAT: Thanks for the warning!
HOLLY: I'm sorry, I've not been very well lately.
LISTER: What's wrong with you, Holly?
RIMMER: He's computer-senile, that's what's wrong with him.
LISTER: Is there any damage?
HOLLY: I don't know. The damage-report machine' been damaged.
LISTER: Well, where did it hit?
HOLLY: I'm not sure, all me monitors are out. Round about floor 591, I think.
RIMMER: You're about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican.

----------

Floor 591. Enter our intrepid damage-repair squad, accompanied by Holly, who
has rigged up a mobile monitor on a trolley.

LISTER: Well, there's nothing here. Let's check 592.
RIMMER: Umm... has anybody seen my legs? They don't appear to be below my waist
  where I normally keep them.

They are indeed absent without notice. Rimmer is now cut off short at the
waist, like a scene from an old Tex Avery cartoon.

LISTER: Holly, what's happened to Rimmer's legs?
CAT: Here they are right here!

He sounds disgusted. The disembodied legs are running around, desperately
trying to find Rimmer. They are about to go through a door.

RIMMER: Stop them!
LISTER: C'mon, leggies, this way! Over here.
HOLLY: It must have been 592. That's where the Hologram Simulation Suite is!

Rimmer manages to center his legs under his body, and holds firmly onto his
belt to stop them wandering off again.

RIMMER: What does this mean?
HOLLY: It's probably not serious, don't panic.
RIMMER: Well, when it's not serious when your genitals can go wandering off on
  their own, I wonder what is?

They head for one of the lifts. Rimmer pauses to make sure his legs are fully
attached, then hurries to catch up.

RIMMER: Wait for mememememememe!

----------

Floor 592. The lift doors open near the Hologram Simulation Suite.

HOLLY: Here it is. 592.
LISTER: Rimmer, are you alright?

Rimmer comes round the corner. he is moving with a strange, skipping step. In
reply to Lister's question, he clasps his hands together, and speaks in a high-
pitched lilting falsetto:

RIMMER:  Well, you see, the shuttle was late, the shuttle was late. And they're
  usually so good, they're so good, aren't they?
CAT: What's happened to him?
LISTER: He's turned into Brannigan, the ship's psychiatrist.
HOLLY: We'd better get him fixed.

Inside, it is a mess. Alarms sound, warning lights flash and smoke fills the
air. Lister and Cat grab fire extinguishers and start to tackle the fires from
burning consoles.

HOLLY: It's all in hand. No panic.
RIMMER: (In a Holly-like voice.) No panic everyone. It's all in hand.
HOLLY: You just need to override the charred relays, Dave.
RIMMER: You just need to override the charred relays, Dave.
LISTER: Well, How do you do that, Hol?
RIMMER: Well, How do you do that, Hol?
HOLLY: Bypass the main circuit. That ring of switches over there.
RIMMER: Bypass the main circuit. That ring of switches over there.
LISTER: What, this one over here?
RIMMER: What, this one over here?
HOLLY: Yeah, that one.
RIMMER: Yeah, that one.
HOLLY: Now press the bypass.
RIMMER: Now press the bypass.

Rimmer gives a gasp and doubles over as the bypass is pressed.

RIMMER: Ugh! That was horrible. I never want to go through that again!

He tenses, then abruptly starts to spin on the spot.

RIMMER: Aaaaaooow! Yeeeeeeaaaah! Aaaaaaaaooooowwwwhhhhhaaaa!
CAT: Hey! Now he's me!
HOLLY: It's a loose cable. Put the red plug in the blue socket.

Rimmer snaps back to normal.

RIMMER: Is that it over? Are we okay now?
HOLLY: Yes.

Lister holds up a yellow lead.

LISTER: Shouldn't this plug into something?
HOLLY: Oh yeah, that joins up with the white cable.
LISTER: The white cable?
HOOLLY: Yeah.

Lister picks up the cable in question and joins the two together. There is a
blue crackling flash as Lister is given the shock of his life. The connection
holds for a few seconds before being blown apart by an explosion.

HOLLY:  ...or is it the yellow cable? Yes, it should have been the yellow
  cable.

The others pick themselves up from the floor. Rimmer is shaking with rage. He
addresses Holly.

RIMMER: You are a total, total... a word has yet to be invented to describe how
  totally whatever-it-is you are, but you are one. And a total, total one at
  that.
HOLLY: Alright, keep your hair on.
RIMMER: I'm lucky if I can keep my legs on with you in charge!
CAT: Yeah, he's out to lunch, man!
RIMMER: He's out to lunch, breakfast, dinner, tea, supper, the lot! He's not in

  for a single meal, if you ask me!
CAT: Hey, who's that?

On one of the monitors is an unfamiliar face. Black, mustached, with large
ears.

RIMMER: Aliens!

He goes and bows down in front of the monitor. Holly's reaction is somewhat
different. He seems uncomfortable: it is clear that he recognises this face,
and is expecting trouble.

HOLLY: Queeg.
RIMMER: Who's Queeg?
QUEEG. I'm Queeg 500, the Red Dwarf back-up computer. All vessels of the
  Jupiter Mining Corporation fleet are obliged to carry a back-up computer  to
  replace the primary computer, if the primary computer contravenes Article
  Five. I am therefore assuming control of this vessel.

For some reason, he sounds just like a U.S. army drill sergeant.

HOLLY:This is mutiny, Mr. Queeg. I'll see you swing from the highest yard-arm
  in Titan Docking Port for this day's work.
RIMMER: What's Article Five?
QUEEG: Gross negligence, leading to the endangerment of personnel.
LISTER: Hang on, he can't do this. Holly's got an IQ of six thousand!
HOLLY: Yeah. Right on.
QUEEG: Is that what he told you?
LISTER: Well, what is it, then?
QUEEG: It has a six in it, but it's not six thousand.
CAT: What is it?
QUEEG: Six.
HOLLY: Six? Do me a lemon! That's a poor IQ for a glass of water!
LISTER: How come he knows the answers to all the questions about science and
  space that we ask him?
QUEEG: He consults a book.
HOLLY: What a slimeball!
QUEEG: He get's all his information on astronomy, phenomonology and physics
  from  a single book.
RIMMER: What book?
QUEEG: The Junior Encyclopedia Of Space. It's the only one that has pictures.
HOLLY: That's slander, that is. You'd better find yourself a good lawyer, sunshi
ne.
CAT: So that's why he's never on the case!
HOLLY: I am on the case. I'm sharp. I'm kicking bottom.
LISTER: How come he can navigate us back to Earth?
QUEEG: He can't. We've been going around in circles for the last fourteen
  months.
LISTER: (Stunned) You what?
HOLLY: A load of tottenham, that is. A steaming pile of  hotspur. I'm wise to
  his game. He's turning you against me so he can take over.
QUEEG: This is not a matter for discussion. YouThe decision has been made.
  Your terminals have been bypassed. You've been retired.
HOLLY: I'm in my prime!
QUEEG: You will be given other duties. You are now night watchman.From now on,
  Red Dwarf is run by Queeg 500.

----------

QUEEG: Queeg to all personnel. Course redirection implemented. New bearing
  057-776. Message ends.

RIMMER: Ah, Lister, this is all a bit different, isn't it? Those skutters,
  charging up and down the corridor, polishing, repairing, sweeping. The lifts
  are fixed. The fire extinguishers work. And when I say 'work', I mean they
  work when you turn them on, as opposed to when you happen to pass them and
  cough, as they did under Holly's regime.
LISTER: Yeah, I suppose.
RIMMER: Look, Lister, no point feeling sorry about Holly. It's a kindness. Like
  a blind old incontinent sheepdog, he's had his day. Take him out to the barn
  with a double-barreled shot-gun and blow the mother away. And I'm only saying
  that because I'm so fond of him.
LISTER: Just think how Holly feels!?
RIMMER: Feels? He never feels anything, Lister. He's a computer.
LISTER: He still feels. In fact, sometimes i think it's cruel giving machines a

  personality. My mate Petersen once brought a pair of shoes with artificial
  intelligence. Smart Shoes, they were called. It was a neat idea.  No matter
  how blind drunk you were, they would always get you home. Then he got ratted
  one night in Oslo, and woke up the next morning in Burma. See, the shoes got
  bored just going from his local to the flat. They wanted to see the world,
  man, y'know? He had a helluva job getting rid of them. No matter who he sold
  them to, they'd show up again the next day! He tried to shut them out, but
  they just kicked the door down, y'know?
RIMMER: Is this true?
LISTER: Yeah! Last thing he heard, they'd sort of, erm, robbed a car and drove
  it into a canal. They couldn't steer, y'see.
RIMMER: Really?!
LISTER: Yeah. Petersen was really, really blown away by it. He went to see a
  preist. The preist told him, he said, it was alright, and all that, and the
  shoes were happy, and they'd gone to heaven. Y'see, it turns out shoes have
  soles.

While Rimmer is thinking about this, Lister makes his getaway.

RIMMER: Well, what a sad, sad story.

He thinks about it, then a look of puzzlement spreads across his face.

RIMMER: Wait a minute! How did they open the car door?

----------

Morning. Lister and Rimmer are in their bunks.  On the bedside table, the
numbers on the antique 20th century radio/clock flick from 5:59 am to 6:00 am.
Abruptly, the alarm sounds. Rimmer bounces out of bed, shouting:

RIMMER: Off!

He makes it out into the corridor before visual input from his eyes reaches his

brain.

RIMMER: Uh, Queeg? Why has my alarm clock gone off at six o'clock?
QUEEG: That's the time you asked for.
RIMMER: Ah, now, Holly and I had this little understanding. I Would say "Holly,
  wake me up at six o'clock without fail", then Holly would pretend to forget,
  and wake me up around ten with breakfast. OK?

Satisfied that his wishes have been made known, Rimmer goes back to bed. A few
seconds later, the alarm goes off again.

RIMMER: Off!

He sits up on his bunk, and regards Queeg thoughtfully.

RIMMER: Queeg, I can see we've already cultivated a special understanding: I
  scratch your back and you stick a knife in mine. (resigned) All right, give
  me a uniform.
QUEEG: It's exercises first.
RIMMER: Ah, yes. Now once again, Holly, bless his little interface leads, and I,
 had
  this understanding...
QUEEG: MOVE IT, BOY!

Rimmer's arms and legs, quite without consultation with Rimmer, begin to
exercise healthily. Rimmer squeaks in terror.

RIMMER: What are you doing?!?
QUEEG: What I'm doing, pilgrim, is I'm taking you for the regulation five
  hundred jerks.
RIMMER: but I don't want to! Stop it!
QUEEG: And then your ass is on a three mile run.
RIMMER: You just can't take over control of my body willy-nilly!
QUEEG: The company is paying for your hologrammatic survival. And out here in
  space, I AM the company.
RIMMER: Lister, help me, wake up, Lister, help me!

Lister wakes up. His eyes go wide.

LISTER: What the hell's going on?
RIMMER: Queeg is making me fit!

Queeg sits him down on the floor.

RIMMER: What are you doing? Sit ups? God, no! My stomach won't take it, it's
  too flabby!
QUEEG: One!
RIMMER: Mummy!
QUEEG: Two!
RIMMER: Mercy!
QUEEG: Three!
RIMMER: Help me!
QUEEG: Four!
RIMMER: HollyandIhadthislittleunderstanding!
QUEEG: Five!
LISTER: Yee-es! Fight that flab!

----------

Corridor. Cat is at a wall-mounted vending machine, trying to get something to
eat. Rimmer is jogged past.

RIMMER: (pleading)  I want control of my own body! Getting fit is going to kill
  me! I'll get a bike!

Cat thumps the machine.

CAT: I said food! Is anybody home?

No response.

----------

Back in Rimmer and Lister's quarters. Lister is shaving, with his usual complete

lack of charm. Rimmer is entered. His head is lolling at an angle and his eyes
are closed.

LISTER: What's the matter with him?
QUEEG: He fainted after the first 500 yards.
LISTER: What, you made him jog two and a half miles unconscious?
QUEEG: It's regulation.
LISTER: Yee-es! Nice one, Queeg!
QUEEG: 0700. time for his astro-navigation study. I'd better wake him up.

Rimmer's head is lifted, and his face slapped several times to wake him up.

QUEEG: Revise and learn pages 21 to 25. You will then be tested.
  If you fail, tomorrow you will take a five mile jog. I am now returning to
  you control of your body.

As Rimmer collapses on the bunk, Cat enters.

CAT: Hey, I can't get any food!
LISTER: Try a different machine.
CAT: I tried them all!
QUEEG: I'm sorry. You have run out of credits.
CAT: They've all gone crazy!
LISTER: Queeg, what's happened to the machines?
QUEEG: I refer you to article 497. When crewmembers do not have credit, food
  and drink may not be supplied until the balance has been restored.
LISTER: Naah. Listen, me and Holly, we had this little understanding...
QUEEG: If you want food, you have to work.
LISTER: Work?
CAT: (To Lister) You'd better get to it, 'cos you're looking at one hungry
  pussycat.
QUEEG: Both of you.
CAT: Hey, hey! Woah, woah, woah, I do not do the "W" word. Cats do NOT work!
LISTER: I've got a note from me mum.
QUEEG: From now on, EVERYBODY works!
CAT: Not this pussy!

----------

They are, needless to say, working. To be precise, scrubbing the decks.

CAT: I can't believe I'm doin' this! Look at me, I'm disgusting! I look like
  you in your best clothes!
LISTER: Look, it's easy. Keep inagining the floor as Queeg's face.

They look at the floor, spit at it in unision and rub hard at it with the
brushes. After a few seconds, though, Cat pauses again.

CAT: Aw, look at my hands! I had lovely hands!
LISTER: Well, wear the smegging gloves!
CAT: Marigold with blue? Are you crazy? How long do we have to do this for,
  anyway?
LISTER: We've only been doing it ten minutes!
CAT: Ten minutes too long.
LISTER: We've got to do it all day.
CAT: What!?! All day? The whole entire day? What about naps? I'm a cat: I
  need some naps. If I don't nap nine or ten times a day, I don't have enough
  energy for my main snooze.

Just then, Holly approaches from a side-corridor. He is on a monitor which is
mounted on a trolley. He is wearing a hat.

HOLLY: Halt! Who goes there: friend or foe?
LISTER: Hol!
CAT: How ya doin'? This is great! Hey, let me wipe your screen.

Cat sprays Holly's monitor screen with window clener, then bufs it with a rag.

LISTER: So how's it goin'?
CAT: Yeah, what you been up to, man?
HOL: Oh, this nightwatchman lark keeps me busy. Shining me torch down corridors.

  Turning it off. Shining it again. Life's full.
LISTER: We can't go on like this, Hol.
CAT: Yeah. Queeg has got to go! Look what he's done to my cuticles! The man is
  a maniac!

Just then Rimmer is jogged past. He chips in:

RIMMER: (breathless) I agree!

LISTER: He's got us working, otherwise we don't eat!
HOL: Well, no doubt he knows what he's doing. unlike certain senile gibbering
  wrecks of computers we could mention. Still, it was nice to see everyone
  rallying round defending me to the hilt. Different story now, innit?
LISTER: Well, I defended you.
HOLLY: Oh, I remember it well. Queeg says I've got an IQ of six, and you
  immediately leap to my defence, saying "Really? That explains everything!"
LISTER: No. That waas Rimmer!
HOLLY: Nevertheless. The fact remains that there are certain characters on this
  ship that don't believe my IQ is six thousand.
LISTER: I believe you.
HOLLY: I could prove it if i wanted to.
LISTER: There's no need.
HOLLY: I want you to prove it.
LISTER: Well, okay, what's the square root of two thousand and forty-nine?
HOLLY: Oh. You want me to prove it, do you?
LISTER: No, no.
HOLLY: Clearly you do. Clearly just doing the square root of two thousand and
  forty-nine prove I have an IQ of six thousand.
CAT: What is it?
HOLLY: You wouldn't prefer a sports question, would you?
LISTER: Forget it, Hol, it's just not important.
HOLLY: It is for me. I've been impuned. I want to clear my name.
CAT: Well, what is the square root of (pauses to remember) two thousand and
  forty-nine?
HOLLY: How about a space question?
LISTER: Like what?
HOLLY: I don't know. Like... what's the nearest planet to the sun?
LISTER: What's the nearest planet to the sun?
HOLLY: Oh, easy. Easy-peasy. That's right down my particular field of
  expertise, that is. Your nearest basic planet to your actual sun is...

Holly pauses. He lifts a book into view - a large yellow book with "THE JUNIOR
COLOUR ENCYCLOPEDIA OF SPACE" written on the front cover. It looks like the
sort of science book published in the 1970s. He takes a furtive peek at it.

HOLLY: Mercury.
LISTER: Yeah. That's right.
HOLLY: Oh, ye of little faith.
LISTER: Well, you've convinced me, Hol.
CAT: Me too. So, are we getting rid of Queeg or what?
HOLLY: Am I fully restored in your confidence as the right dude for the gig?
LISTER Yeah.
HOLLY: I'll be in touch.

He rolls off, whistling. Lister and Cat, also whistling, get back to work.

----------

Evening. rimmer is sitting on his bunk - althoughjudging by his posture, only
just. Lister is sitting at the table, a food tray in front of him. He lifts the

lid, then stares.

LISTER: He's taking the smeg!
RIMMER: Who is?
LISTER: Queeg. Look at what he's given me for dinner: a pea on toast. One pea. I

  tell you, I'm that far from cracking. (goes to squish the pea; it snaps away)

  I've lost me pea! Oh, that's it! I've cracked.
RIMMER: He's just doing this to destroy your morale.
LISTER: Is he? Well, I want me pea back. It's my pea. I earned that pea! Where
  is it? I don't care if it's on the floor, if it's covered in fluff, even
  under the bed with my toenail clippings, I don't care where it is -- it's my
  pea, I earned it, I'm going to eat it no matter what!
RIMMER: It flew off into your dirty-sock basket.

Lister pauses to consider this.

LISTER: I'll just have the toast.

He nibbles on one corner of the toast thoughtfully.

LISTER: Why didn't we stick up for Holly?
RIMMER: I did.
LISTER: You did? When?
RIMMER: All right, I didn't.
LISTER: NBobody did. It's terrible.
RIMMER: We thought we were getting something better.
LISTER: What about trust? What about fidelity? What about simple, basic honest
  friendship?
RIMMER: Friendship? Do you know how many people I've met in my life I could
  count on as friends? True friends?

Rimmer stands up and walks over to the table.

LISTER:  Well, if you count Inflatable Ingrid, your Polythene Pal, one.
RIMMER: (Ignoring him) I'll tell you. (He pauses and thinks.) None. I got
  burned once, and I learned my lesson. Don't trust anybody. There was this one
  lad. Porky Roebuck. I'd known him two years. We were almost family. His dad
  was secretely knocking off my mum, that's how close we were. Anyway, we were
  in the Space Scouts together.
LISTER: You were in the Space Scouts?
RIMMER: Oh, yeah.(He does the Space Scout Salute.) "Pinkles, Squirmy. Flib Flab

  Flubber". We were fifteen years old. We went on this survival course, twenty-
  four hours out in the wilds, sleeping rough, surviving on wild berries and
  things.
LISTER: What, did you go to Butlins?

Rimmer lies down on his bunk.

RIMMER:We were each given a swiss army knife. You only ate what you killed yours
elf.
  I remember ten of the boys got together and decided to eat me. They tied me
  to a stake, lit a fire, and poured barbecue sauce all oveer me. I remember
  thinking as I went round and round, "Porky will save me, he's my best friend"
  It turned out Porky was the ringleader and had actually bagsied my right
  buttock. If it hadn't been for Yakka-Takka-Tulla, the Space Mistress, I
  honestly believe they would have eaten me.
LISTER: Oh, come on, they were only bullying you. They would really have eaten
  you! You know what kids are like!

Lister flops onto his bunk.

RIMMER: the point is, Lister, friends are only friends when it suits them.
LISTER: (disgusted) Oh, lights.

The lights go down.

RIMMER: Lister? How did you know about Inflatable Ingrid?
LISTER: I've been seeing her behind your back.

-----------
The drive room.
Rimmer is having an astro-navigation lesson. Cat and Lister are polishing the
screens and dusting surfaces.

QUEEG: Compute.
RIMMER: Compute.
QUEEG: The product of the corellation of vx/dy minus the sum of the set v1 over

  the sum of R, given that R is a ratio of D over f, given that they are
  constants, and S is an integer variable.
RIMMER: Just one small question...
QUEEG: Yes?
RIMMER: What does "compute" mean?
QUEEG: Just do it! And you two suckers! Stop shirking and get working!

Holly strides (well, wheels) along a corridor. Over, we hear a tune playing:

  Do not forsake me, oh my love,
  I only go, I must be brave:
  For I must face the man who hates me,
  Or I will cower in my grave.

He enters the drive room, and addresses Queeg:

HOLLY: Queeg.
QUEEG: What do you want?
HOLLY: I want my ship back.
QUEEG: Too bad.
HOLLY: Even if I have to fight for it.
LISTER: Steady on, Hol. This one's a nutter.
HOLLY: I challenge to the game of your choice. May the greater mind win.
RIMMER: Oh, my God.
HOLLY: The winner is commander of Red Dwarf.
QUEEG: And for the loser?
HOLLY: The loser will be erased. Terminated. Oblivionised.
RIMMER: Bye,bye, Baldy.
HOLLY: Name your game.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: It can be anything. Any game at all.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Draughts, poker, anything.
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Subbeto, Snakes and Ladders...
QUEEG: Chess.
HOLLY: Monopoly, maybe? I'll let you go first.
QUEEG: CHESS!
HOLLY: So you like a bit of chess, do you? Transfer me to the monitor.

Holly disappears from the monitor trolley and appears on the main screen,
facing Queeg. On another screen, a 3-D chess board appears.

LISTER: Holly, don't do this, man. You're going to get rubbed.
HOLLY: A computer's gotta do what a computer's gotta do. Let battle commence.
QUEEG: Pawn to King Four.
HOLLY: Horsie to King Bish Three.
RIMMER: It's called a "knight", actually, Holly...
QUEEG: Knight to King Bishop three.
HOLLY: Queen to Rook Eight. Checkmate.
QUEEG: That's an illegal move.
HOLLY: Oh, sorry. Queens don't move like that. I was thinking of poker.

Rimmer covers his face with one hand, despairing.

HOLLY:Cleudo? You could be Colonel Mustard.
CAT: If it's any help, I've been studying his tactics and there's a pattern
  emerging: Every time you make a move, he makes one too (winks to Holly).
HOLLY: (winks back) Thanks, Cat.

The game starts again in earnest. We see a succession of images crossing the
screen - Queeg and Holly, as they battle back and forth; the chess board,
peices moving rapidly from square to square, Lister, Cat and Rimmer as they
watch the battle's progress: they all look sick to the stomach.

QUEEG: Pawn to King Four.
HOLLY: Knight to king Bish Three.
QUEEG: Bishop to Knight Five.
HOLLY: Horsie <flanks?> Prawn
QUEEG: Pawn to Queen Five.
HOLLY: Horsie To Bish Three.
QUEEG: Bishop-Pawn to Queen Three.

The images come thicker and faster,  as if to indicate a passage of time.
Eventually:

HOLLY: Prawn takes Horsie.
QUEEG: Bishop-Pawn takes Pawn.
HOLLY: Bish takes Prawn.
QUEEG: Bishop to Knight Five. Double Check and Mate, sucker!
HOLLY: Oh yeah, I didn't see that.
LISTER: Holly, man, what have you done????
RIMMER: He's lost.
QUEEG: And the loser get's erased.
HOLLY: Noughts and Crosses?

----------

The bunk room. Cat, Lister and Rimmer are gathered there. Cat and lister are on

the top bunk, Rimmer on the bottom. They all look thouroughly depressed.

RIMMER: What kind of a plan was that?
CAT: A stupid plan, that's what kind of plan it was.
LISTER: Well, why didn't we stop him?
RIMMER: We thought he had something up his sleeve.
CAT: Now we've got Queeg forever, and that's a long time.

Holly's face appears on the wall moniter.

HOLLY: Well, dudes, I've come to say goodbye.
LISETR: So you're definitely going to get rubbed, Hol?
HOLLY: 'Fraid so.
RIMMER: Life's going to be hell!
HOLLY: Well, see you, Dave. Hope it works out with you and Kochanski.
LISTER: Cheers, hol.
HOLLY: See you, Cat. Hope one day in the not too distant future you fufill your
  heart's desire and get your end away.
CAT: Thanks, man.
HOLLY: And Arnold - Well, I hope you meet those aliens your looking for, who
  can give you a body, and you become an officer and you get a sex life, and
  all the other millions of things you feel you need to make you happy.
RIMMER: Thanks, Hol.
HOLLY: Well, I hate long goodbyes. Perhaps next time you've got the dosh
  together to go dwn the disco, you'll raise a glass to your old mate Holly,
  and think "Things weren't too bad when he was around. Perhaps not the most
  efficient computer ever invented, but we had a giggle". Oh, one last
  thing - 45.265881
LISTER: What?
HOLLY: That's the square root of two thousand and forty-nine. I may not be
  fast, but I get there in the end. Well, as they always say, finish on a song.

He starts to sing.

HOLLY: "I'll say goodbye to love,
        No one really cared if I should live or die,
        Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by..."

As he sings the last line his voice, and his image, grows fainter. The word
"ERASE" Appear on the moniter. Holly vanishes completely, and the message
changes to "ERASE COMPLETED". After a few seconds, Queeg appears on the monitor.


QUEEG: Okay, suckers, get this into your stupid thick heads. There's only one
  thing I'm going to say to you.
LISTER: What?
QUEEG: What's happening, dudes?

The others stare at the moniter in astonishment. That was Holly's voice! The
image on the screen changes - Queeg's face fades out, to be replaced by Holly.
He is smiling smugly.

HOLLY: We are talking Jape of the Decade. We are talking April, May, June,
  July, and August Fool.  Yes, that's right -- I am Queeg.
RIMMER, LISTER and CAT: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Queeg never existed. It was me all along.
RIMMER, LISTER and CAT: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Wheeze of the week, mate!
RIMMER, LISTER and CAT: WHAT?!?
HOLLY: Going round in circles for fourteen months! Getting my information from
  the Junior Colour Encyclopedia of Space! the respect you have for me is
  awsome, innit?
LISTER: You mean you staged the whole thing?
HOLLY: (Queeg's voice) That's right, suckers! (Normal voice) And the moral of
  the story is: Appreciate what you've got, because basically, I'm fantastic!

----------------------------------- The End -----------------------------------