Theta Twelve

Blue Alert, Red Alert

It was anything but silent. Then again, silence was but a pipe dream these days. Ever since the arrival of Aria Harkness, Arnold Rimmer's girl-who's-a-friend-but-not-a-girlfriend, bickering was not an uncommon occurrence. But Lister was glad Rimmer had someone new to be at loggerheads with. Aria had been arguing with Rimmer in the corridor for over twenty minutes about having to wear a mandatory uniform.

Rimmer held out his arms, gesturing to Aria's normal, unsophisticated, civilian clothes. "I'm merely suggesting you wear something signifying that you're part of the crew. Is that so wrong?"

"Why me? No-one else is wearing uniforms."

"That's because—" There was a pause for consideration. She was right; Lister and Cat wore pretty much whatever they wanted, and Rimmer didn't hassle them about it. Deciding he wasn't exactly being fair, he conceded — for once. "Fine. We'll get to that later," He sharply inhaled an airless breath, and referred to a list he'd written down just hours ago. "Now, on to your nails."

"What about them?"

"They're not ship regulation length."

Her eyes flicked upwards, and she groaned loudly. "Alright, I'll trim them." she said with a defeated sigh.

"Neither is your hair," Rimmer added as he flipped through his notebook. "Either cut it or put it up."

"Rimmer!" she snapped as she grabbed a hold of him by his biceps. "You really need to—!"

"Ah-ah," He held up a single finger. "what do you think you're doing?"

"What, am I not allowed to grab you now?"

"No, you're sleeping with me, it's allowed. In fact, it's encouraged. I'm talking about arguing in front of a vending machine, loitering and preventing other patrons from using it,"

Aria appeared perplexed, as if Rimmer just spoke Welsh after fifteen pints. She glanced around, in search of these supposed patrons, then shrugged her shoulders.

"Now, kindly move," he gently demanded.

She simply took one step to the left, but was still in front of the vending machine. Rimmer's facial features twitched erratically in indignation. He opened his mouth, about to demand her to move again when the Cat came to them in a panic.

"Hey, buds—!"

Rimmer didn't notice his stressed demeanour at all. "Ah, finally someone exparté," he said. "Don't you think she should wear a uniform and just look overall official?"

Aria grasped the Cat by shoulders, appearing desperate. "I'll give you that smegging make-up kit we found on that derelict if you say no."

"You said you liked it!" Rimmer exclaimed.

"I hate to change subjects and all, but... all hands on deck! Whirly thing alert!" Cat then sprinted off the way he came and the two dysfunctional love birds followed after him.

***************************************************

"Cat, I see nothing but space on the radars." Aria said, glancing at all of the monitors, arms folded.

"It's there! I'm getting something out of my left nostril."

Rimmer let out a harsh sigh. "I'm sick and tired of basing our entire navigational strategy on one feline's nose," he said. He leaned back in his seat and he, too, folded his arms. "I'm as much of a fan of his right nostril as anyone, but I've made no bones about my lack of faith in his left. It's unreliable and it's frankly difficult to work with."

"It's not unreliable, sir, it's just that the left nostril is ruled more by passion and intuition than the hard logic which controls the right."

"Still, I maintain we should have that nostril removed from active duty."