Fragments of the Reclaimer

Old, Rattled and Fit For Nothing

After an hour of fuming, cursing everyone on the ship for making him feel ignored and useless, Rimmer eventually fell asleep. It wasn't a pleasant slumber, however; he thrashed so much that eventually his bedsheets fell off.

He dreamt was somewhere dark, cold and lonely. He could hear the sound of a ship's engine droning in the background. Walking by an open door, he saw a tall figure with his back facing him, looming over a control console.

The figure, actually the Didact, stopped what he was doing briefly when he heard Rimmer enter. With his back still turned to him, he acknowledged his presence by stating, "This quest to fulfill the Mantle has haunted me my entire life -- for countless millennia, we have failed to realise the one truth that could have saved us from the beginning," He turned around, staring directly into Rimmer's eyes. "The Mantle isn't to be inherited by the noble, it is to be taken by the strong. Humanity does not fall into that category."

Rimmer scoffed. "We don't want your smegging Mantle," he said with a sneer, despite knowing full well he'd piss of a powerful entity, speaking to him in that tone -- a part of him didn't care.

He could see a hologrammatic image of the Composer behind the Didact.

"Look, how about you step away from the weapon of mass destruction so we can all go home?"

The Didact laughed mirthlessly. "I am afraid I can't do that," He began striding towards Rimmer, backing him into a corner. "All in life is choice -- and I choose to eradicate humanity, the species who killed millions of my people, my children." he boomed.

Rimmer recoiled and winced as the Didact inched closer; he could feel his vile breath against his face. Rimmer's projection glitched, alternating between solid and transparent. He was brave up until that moment. He had no choice but to stare at his grotesque, bestial appearance, his deep set, red eyes burning through him.

Curiously, the Didact stared at him, watching as the now mortified Arnold J. Rimmer malfunctioned. "It seems as though you are on your last legs, Hologram." He backed away a few steps.

Rimmer winced once again; his chest rose and fell rapidly as his glitch lessened. He gulped. "My last—? What?"

"Perhaps you'll be easier to defeat than the Librarian made you out to be." Swiftly and effortlessly, he punched through his hard light projection.

As Didact took a hold of his light bee, Rimmer's face contorted from the agonising, if short lived pain.

He crushed the light bee in his hand, turning it to dust that slid through his fingers like sand; the solid bits that remained dropped onto the floor with a thud.

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

Rimmer's hologrammatic heart was pounding; simulated sweat poured down his face and neck, down to his chest which left a noticeable spot on his uniform. He struggled to open his eyes, only to find himself in a darkened room, unable to see where he was.

"Lister!" he screamed out in a panic. "Lister, help me!!"

Lister came in running. He switched the lights on, and stood at Rimmer's bedside. "What? What is it?"

He couldn't breath; he hyperventilated to the point of nearly loosing consciousness. He was curled into a ball. His whole body trembled.

"Rimmer?" At first he hesitated to place a comforting hand upon him; gradually, after doing so, Rimmer seemed to calm down to a degree. "Hey... It's okay. It's just a dream." Lister softly reassured.

Rimmer wasn't so sure it was a dream; more like a vision, like the one he had of the Librarian. Why he had two different visions, both ultimately about the same thing, was beyond his comprehension.