who we always are

[psifi872]

"I'm so bored," Rimmer groaned, turning off the viewscreen.

Above him, hidden from view, Lister gave a polite grunt, as he pretended to listen. His attention was really devoted to a pile of race and track magazines that he'd found in someone's locker. Lister didn't care about racing, at least, not the kind that involved humans running with their own legs. Still, reading material he hadn't seen before was becoming rare and the last human alive couldn't be picky. Rimmer, being dead, wasn't inclined to be so philosophical. He got up from his bunk and glared impatiently.

"There has to be a better way than this to spend the evening," he persisted.

"Like what?" Lister asked, uninterested.

"I don't know! Like anything!" Rimmer protested. "We could...play cards, watch a movie...discuss literature?"

"Rimmer, we don't play cards, because you currently owe Cat three new suits, an earring, and twenty-five hundred pounds of mackerel. We can't watch movies, because Kryten is still cleaning the seats from last time!"

"That was your fault!" Rimmer accused. "You should have known getting Cat drunk while watching Wolfman would end in disaster."

"How was I supposed to know?" Lister objected. "It was just a movie. I didn't think he'd try to ward off Lon Chaney with eau d'Cat!"

Rimmer pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "Pathetic. Fine. What about literature?"

"Forget it! Your idea of discussing books is to nitpick the fight scenes and tell us why the heroes are all stupid! You said Scrooge was a superstitious old woman!"

"He was!" Rimmer protested. "He never checked a single 'spirit of Christmas' for wires! I'm telling you, Bob Cratchit was having him on!"

"You are such a smeg-head, Rimmer," Lister told him, tiredly.

"Um, I hope I'm not interrupting," Kryten interrupted. "I was just doing some cleaning in Captain Hollister's office and I came across these! Evidently, they belong to you two."

In Kryten's hands were two old-fashioned fob-watches, plated in gold, with strange markings covering them. Kryten handed one out to Rimmer, who took a step back.

"That isn't mine."

Kryten looked startled, glancing from Rimmer to the watch. "Are you certain, sir? It has your name on it."

"Why would I own a broken old fob-watch?"

"If it's not yours, how do you know it's broken?" Lister challenged, grinning.

"Well, I just...I...shut up, Lister!" Rimmer demanded.

"This one is yours, Mr. Lister, sir," Kryten interrupted, handing the second watch to Lister.

Lister took the watch, examining it a bit, before stuffing it in a pocket. "Thanks, Kryten. Funny, though, I don't remember owning one, either."

"Why would Captain Hollister have our watches and how would we end up with them, anyway? They look almost exactly alike!"

"I'm afraid I don't know, sirs," Kryten admitted, frowning helplessly.

"HOL!" Lister shouted.

Holly, the computer's AI, appeared on the screen, blinking owlishly at them. "Hello. What's up, then?" she asked.

"Hey, Holly, you know anything about these watches? Kryten found them in Hollister's office with our names on them."

"Oh, them."

"What do you mean, oh them?" Rimmer demanded, dreading the answer.

"Those arrived in the post, just before you killed everyone," Holly explained.

"Do you have to say it like that?" Rimmer objected, squeakily. "It was an accident!"

"Right, that's what I meant," Holly replied. "They arrived just before you accidentally killed everyone."

Rimmer glared murderously, while Lister laughed.

"Never mind that," he said. "What can you tell us about the watches, Hol? Who sent them?"

"Don't know. They were dropped off in the post with the right amount of stamps and no return address."

"Why didn't Hollister give them to us, then?" Rimmer asked, confused.

"I don't know. He just said he'd do it later. They seemed to make him a bit uneasy."

"We should jettison them," Rimmer decided.

"Don't be stupid, Rimmer. They're just watches. They can't hurt us," Lister assured him, sarcastically.

"You don't know that!" Rimmer objected. "How many seemingly innocent things have almost killed us in the past few years?"

"Well, you can jettison yours, then, but I'm keeping mine. It's kinda cool looking."

Rimmer rolled his eyes, giving his watch a scathing glare. "Fine, just...throw the idiotic thing in my trunk, will you, Kryten?"

"As you wish, Mr. Rimmer, sir."

"Heyyyyy, monkeys and Chrome Head!" Cat announced himself, spinning into the room. He grinned. "Guess what?"

"What is it, Cat?" Lister asked, smiling, but not taking any bait.

"We're being hailed by another ship!" Cat gloated, waiting for their reactions.

To the Cat's satisfaction, everyone on Red Dwarf, which was just the five beings in the room, immediately headed for the bridge. Those who could run were running. Holly disappeared from the viewscreen and reappeared on one of the secondary screens on the bridge. Lister sat at the communications booth and brought up the incoming message.

A tall humanoid appeared onscreen, standing on the bridge of his own ship. He was rough-looking, with long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was wearing worn, dirty clothes that consisted of a long sleeve t-shirt, a vest, and dirty brown pants. He grinned at the motley crew of Red Dwarf.

"If you'll check your sensors, mates," he began, "you'll see you're surrounded by four ships, one on each side of you. The ships are smaller than yours, yeah, but most of their space is devoted to weapons. Do anything other than what I say and we'll cut you open."

"Who are you?" Rimmer demanded, trying to sound brave and authoritative, but unable to keep his voice from raising a bit in fear.

"I'm Captain Dawson," the man introduced himself. "We're coming aboard. You're going to give us anything we want. If you're lucky, we'll leave you with your ship or somewhere with a breathable atmosphere."

"No chance!" Lister retorted. "We'll fight, thanks."

"You're outgunned, mate. Be reasonable," Dawson responded, still grinning.

"You're bluffing," Lister bluffed. "There's no way your guns are getting through our shields."

"Um, sir," Kryten began, looking alarmed.

"Shut up, Kryten," Lister suggested, grinning.

"But, sir," Kryten protested.

"Not now, Kryten," Lister insisted, trying to give the mechanoid a meaningful glance.

"But..."

"But, you haven't got any shields," Dawson kindly finished for Kryten.

"Precisely, sir, thank you!"

Lister slumped in momentary defeat, raising his hands.

"Fine, fine. We don't have shields, but we do have Holly, a computer AI with an IQ of six thousand! Top that, mate!"

The rest of the Red Dwarf crew gave Lister brief glances, before focusing back on the viewscreen, fake smiles plastered on their faces. Dawson laughed, shaking his head. He turned to someone off screen and nodded.

"Sorry, mates, but you've made a demonstration necessary," Dawson informed them, with mock sadness.

A beam of light appeared and hit Rimmer, striking him right between the eyes. The hologram only had time to widen his eyes, before disappearing, his light bug falling pitifully to the floor. Lister gave the bug a shocked look, before crossing his arms, his expression stony.

"Okay, you shut him off. We can always turn him back on again."

"Still bluffing," Dawson noted admiringly. "You know, if you survive this, I might let you join my crew."

"No, thanks," Lister retorted, disdainfully.

"We didn't just turn your friend off, mate. We hijacked your hologram projector, using a nifty little computer virus. You don't surrender and we erase him, then we take you and your ship apart, if need be. You have twenty-four hours."

Dawson disappeared from the screen. Kryten walked over and picked up the light bug, holding it carefully.

"What do we do now, sir?"

Lister wasn't listening. A strange whisper had his attention. It was a soft, soothing voice intended, he knew, for him alone. It whispered and coaxed, promising help.

"Who are you?" Lister asked, nervous.

"I'm Kryten, sir," the mechanoid reminded his confused friend.

"Not you, you dork! The voice!"

"What voice?"

Obeying an impulse that seemed to come from outside of himself, Lister pulled his fob-watch from his pocket. He stared at it, fascinated, but filled with misgivings. "My watch is talking to me," Lister explained, his tone full of wonder.

"Sir, I think you had better lie down," Kryten advised.

"What would a watch want to tell one of you monkeys?" Cat asked confused. "If it were me, I'd tell you that you didn't deserve such a fine accessory!"

Lister ignored them. The whispers continued, issuing vague promises and hints about time and victory. "Look, I don't know what you want!" Lister snapped, impatiently. He opened the watch, hoping to get clearer answers from whatever was inside. Half a dozen streams of gold light flooded out and circled around Lister, touching him. Kryten started forward, but Lister held up a hand in warning, his eyes wide.

"Mr. Lister, sir?"

The gold light settled on Lister, briefly filling his eyes. Lister seemed to absorb the light, glowing, before it disappeared, leaving Lister standing alone and blinking.

"All right, then," he said, stepping forward and taking Rimmer's light bug from Kryten. "Time to get to work."

"But, Mr. Lister, sir, what are you going to do?" Kryten protested.

"Don't call me that, Kryten. My name isn't Lister," he scolded mildly.

"Well, who are you, then?"

The man turned, Dave Lister's open smile on his face. "I am the Master."

Kryten watched, stunned, as the self-declared Master turned and left the bridge.

"What do you think that dude's going to do with goal-post head?" Cat asked.

"I don't know," Kryten admitted. "Whatever was in that watch seems to have possessed him!"

"Well, what are we going to do about the pirates, then?"

"I-I...don't know that either! Look, I'm going to go talk with Mr. Lister, er, the Master. You go to the hologram projection suite and see if you and Holly can do anything to help Mr. Rimmer."

"Fine, but if the Master starts wearing go-go boots and carrying a whip? I'm joining the pirates!" Cat declared, sauntering off with a yowl.

Kryten couldn't shiver, but he did feel a great sense of unease. Mr. Lister was definitely not himself. Apparently, it was up to Kryten to save the day again. "Holly, locate Mr. Lister for me."

"Dave Lister is not on board."

"What do you mean? He can't have gone anywhere!"

"Whatever was in that watch changed his DNA structure. He is no longer Dave Lister or human."

"All right, fine. Where is the Master?"

"The Master is currently in his quarters."

"Right, join Cat and I'll see if I can get through to him."

"You got it," Holly promised.

Kryten hurried down the hallway to Lister's and Rimmer's quarters. He was almost there, when the Master emerged, Rimmer's fob-watch in his hand.

"What are you doing with that?" Kryten asked, puzzled.

"Putting things back the way I prefer them," the Master answered, cheekily.

"Um, sir, Mr. Master, we need to talk," Kryten informed him firmly.

"I have a better idea. Come give me a hand. We do only have twenty-four hours, after all," the Master countered, continuing down the corridor.

"Sir, I must insist on knowing who you are and what has happened to Mr. Lister!" Kryten protested, keeping pace with him.

The Master sighed but shrugged. "Look, it's simple. Rimmer and I made someone called the Valeyard really, really angry, yeah? So, to punish us, he transformed us into humans, using a thing called a chameleon arch. Then, to really rub things in, he gave us these ridiculous identities, making us people we would be embarrassed about! Our real selves, our real minds, were stored in the fob-watches. Now, I'm free and I've got to free Rimmer and get him properly alive."

"What about the pirates?"

The Master smiled.

"Oh, they won't be a problem, trust me. Now come on. The first thing we need to do is build a genetic loom."

"Um, one more thing, if you please. Why do you call yourself the Master?"

"Oh, that? Yeah, I'm called that, because I'm going to conquer and rule my home universe," the Master explained lightly, opening the doors to the medical bay.

"I see," Kryten said, frowning deeply but following. "And what about Mr. Rimmer?"

"Oh, I'll leave you to find out about him on your own," the Master told him, chuckling.

Kryten cringed a bit, but began helping the Master rewire one of the scan beds. Ten hours later, the Master screwed a final panel into place. Kryten looked at the new equipment, impressed. The Master had revealed a very in-depth understanding not only of engineering and electronics, but of DNA and micro-biology. Kryten just hoped those skills would be used benevolently.

"What's wrong, Kryten?" the Master asked impatiently.

"Where do I begin?" Kryten mused. "You're planning on conquering a universe, Mr. Rimmer has been deactivated, pirates are waiting for our surrender, and we just built a piece of equipment that would give Mary Shelley nightmares! My circuits can't take much more!"

"Oh, come on, it's not as bad as it sounds," the Master soothed, sounding so much like the old Lister that Kryten would have cried, if he had tear ducts.

"But, the entire universe, sir?"

"Look, it's just the way things are, Kryten. You have to either rule or be ruled. That's all. I just won't be ruled by others. You feel the same, yeah? Isn't that why you're trying to break your programming?"

"Well, not so I can rule others! And, what about Mr. Rimmer? What is this device for?"

The Master took a few bags of protoplasm from a nearby repository and attached them to the loom, then hooked up Rimmer's light bug. A computerized coding of DNA began scrolling down the screen.

"There. The loom will take the protoplasm and the DNA code from Rimmer's light bug and recreate Rimmer's body. Once he's back alive, I can open the fob-watch."

"How long will that take?"

"Not very long," the Master assured him.

"The entire universe?" Kryten pleaded.

"Every bit of it," the Master insisted sternly. "Where's Cat gone?"

"I sent him and Holly to the hologram projection suite."

"Well, get him back. I don't want him interfering."

"Yes, sir," Kryten agreed.

Kryten obeyed, going and bringing Cat back to the medical bay. When they got there, the first thing Kryten noticed was that the Master had changed his appearance. Lister's clothes had been replaced by neatly pressed, black dress slacks, a black silk shirt, and a black suit jacket. Highly polished black boots completed the outfit. Worst of all, the Master had cut off Lister's dreadlocks, leaving his hair laying short and neat next to his skull. Cat did a double-take, then grinned.

"Hey, someone finally developed some taste! That's an elegant outfit. Boring, but elegant!"

"Thanks, I'm glad you approve," the Master said, dryly.

"How's Mr. Rimmer coming along?" Kryten asked.

"See for yourself," the Master invited, waving a hand.

Kryten stepped up to the plexiglass dome that covered the bed of the loom. Inside, he could see a vaguely human form growing. He watched, intrigued, as muscle and tissue slowly formed and knit together over a skeletal frame. The Cat came and stood beside him, looking confused.

"Is that your dinner?" he asked, repulsed at the idea.

"No!" the Master snapped. "That's Rimmer."

"I've seen him look better," the Cat commented.

"I've seen him look worse," Kryten countered.

"Shut up," the Master ordered. "At this rate, the whole process will only take another two hours and eighteen minutes."

"Good, that's just enough time for my nap!" Cat announced, bouncing off to a corner of the room.

Kryten stayed where he was, watching intently. He could see the loom translating DNA into flesh, so fast even his processors could barely keep up. The skeleton finished first as the ribcage encased new organs. As the organs completed, flesh and fat welled up, smoothing over the body. Skin settled over the whole, like a bag pulled tight, then shaping and conforming to the frame beneath. Hair formed last, sprouting on the arms and legs, then covering the head. Finally, Rimmer lay on the bed and his eyes began to move beneath their lids.

"You did it," Kryten announced, awed.

"Of course, I did," the Master agreed, lifting off the clear covering.

"But, what about his brain? It's completely new and untrained!"

"It doesn't matter," the Master reminded him. "Rimmer's personality was made up. His real self is in the watch."

"Are you going to open it?"

"There's no point in waiting."

Kryten nodded helplessly, worried more than he would admit. If Mr. Lister, the affable, moral human, who had befriended a lonely mechanoid, became a megalomaniac, what would one of those infernal watches make of a selfish weasel like Arnold Judas Rimmer? The Master ignored Kryten and his misgivings, gleefully opening Rimmer's fob-watch. Golden light surrounded the prone form, settling over it like a blanket. Time Lord and mechanoid both waited, spellbound, as the light finally faded...and the body's eyes snapped open.

"Sir? How do you feel?" Kryten asked.

"I'm fine," he responded, sitting up and stretching. "I feel really good, actually."

The former hologram got up and examined his bed, then grinned, the open expression looking odd to Kryten. Seemingly unaware or uncaring of his nudity, the newly alive man walked around the loom, touching and stroking different parts of it.

"Um, sir, are all of your memories intact?"

"Of course they are, Kryten," he was reassured. "I'm the Doctor, he's the Master, and we're in one of the most cocked up situations imaginable."

"So that contraption really worked?" Cat asked incredulously, coming out from the shadows.

"To perfection. The Master's an untrustworthy lunatic, but he is competent," the Doctor declared smugly.

"Who are you calling a lunatic?" the Master asked indignantly. "You're the one who flits about at random, from one deadly situation to another."

"Oh, yes? And how many of those situations were you responsible for?" the Doctor retorted.

"Not enough of them to suit me!"

"Gentlemen!" Kryten interrupted, shaking his head.

"Some things just don't change," the Cat observed, amused.

"Now is not the time!" Kryten asserted, firmly. "Remember, we still have the pirates to deal with. They may no longer have Mr. Rimmer, er, the Doctor hostage, but they do have us surrounded."

"I suppose you're utterly opposed to just killing them, like any sensible person would?" the Master asked the Doctor sarcastically.

"They're living beings!"

"They don't have to be," the Master pointed out, cheerfully.

"No killing!" the Doctor insisted, pointing a commanding finger at the Master.

"Fine, fine, so what's your brilliant plan, then?"

"I suggest we start by getting Dr. Alphabet Head some clothes," the Cat voted.

"Wasting time on frivolities just increases the danger that the pirates will kill us," the Doctor scolded.

"Well, you wearing clothes will lessen the danger of me losing my lunch!" Cat retorted.

"Go get dressed and meet us on the bridge," the Master ordered, exasperated.

"Oh, have it your way," the Doctor agreed, peevishly.

The Master spent the time waiting for the Doctor lost in his own thoughts...or sulking, Kryten wasn't sure which. Nothing in the Master's face or posture invited conversation, so Kryten kept silent. He noted with interest, however, that the Master became animated the moment the bridge doors opened. Kryten studied the Doctor's new outfit with interest.

Like the Master, the Doctor had ignored his own former fashion choices. Now, he wore a pair of dark blue trousers, a burnt orange dress shirt, and a cardigan in mottled shades of blue and green. A black newsboy cap sat jauntily on the Doctor's head. A green silk ascot was tied loosely around the Doctor's neck.

"So, any ideas....other than killing everyone?"

"Sorry. Flighty ideas are your department," the Master quipped.

"One word for you, bucko...Kalid!" the Doctor scoffed, his hands going to his hips.

"Did you recognize me?"

"You looked like a cross between a zombie and Ali Baba...your own mother wouldn't have recognized you!"

"Well, then," the Master concluded, shrugging.

The Doctor crossed his arms, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Sirs, please," Kryten intervened, losing patience. "We really must do something about the pirates."

"Right. So, what do we know about these pirates? Anything?"

"They're from an Earth colony located in this quadrant, exact location unknown. Apparently, the colony was populated by a religious order, wanting to separate itself from Earth and it's cemeteries. Apparently, they have a strong aversion to death and it's trappings. Even talking about death or mentioning the soul is taboo..." Kryten began.

"And these gents?" the Master interrupted, sharply.

"Ah, the current leader of the pirates is intelligent, superstitious, and rather too successful," Kryten concluded, unhappily.

"Superstitious, eh?" the Doctor repeated. "Right, I think I need to have a chat with this pirate captain. Punch him up for me, will you please, Kryten?"

"What are you going to tell them?" Kryten asked, confused and suspicious.

"I'm going to invite him to surrender."

"Sir," Kryten scoffed. "I hardly think a professional pirate of this man's caliber is going to surrender to you, a recently resuscitated technical officer dressed as a college frat boy!"

"Kryten, the fact that I'm 'recently resuscitated' is exactly why he will surrender. Now, be a good chap and put him on, please?"

"Very well, sir," Kryten conceded, sending a request for communication to the other ship.

The pirate captain came onscreen, looking smug. "You're ready to surrender, I trust?"

"Not at all. In fact, I rather thought you might like to surrender to me," the Doctor informed him, smiling.

Dawson focused on the Doctor, frowning. "Hey, you're that hologram we hijacked. How'd you get free?"

"I'm no longer a hologram. I'm alive now."

Dawson shifted, hiding unease behind a sneer. "That's impossible," he pointed out, though Dawson also couldn't see how another person had got on board past his own ships.

"Run a scan. You checked for lifeforms before contacting us before, didn't you? You'd have wanted to see how many you were up against, like a good, sensible fellow. It said two, plus a mechanoid and a hologram, didn't it."

"Well, yes," Dawson admitted, "and we found out we have you quite a bit out-numbered."

"Run your scans again, then."

"Why? What are you playing at?"

"Go ooon!" the Doctor encouraged, grinning smugly. "Just do a simple little scan...where's the harm?"

"Run the scan," Dawson ordered his crew.

"Three lifeforms and one mechanoid on board the mining ship, Captain," a nervous voice confirmed.

Dawson stormed over to the scanning station and read the information himself. He paled, but came back to his command chair, his jaw set.

"What sort of trickery is this?"

"No trickery. I was a hologram and now I'm not. I should have done that ages ago, but well, never mind. I did see some interesting things in the afterlife, though, would you like to hear about them?"

"Don't talk about death, you idiot!" Dawson snapped. "It's bad luck."

"Well, it's bad luck for you, maybe," the Doctor replied, uncaring. "I've been there and back and you would not believe the people I met on the other side! Really, I encountered some of the nicest souls imaginable...they seemed to take quite an interest in me..."

"Shut up!" Dawson commanded, his eyes wide.

"Oh, come on, you're not the least bit curious?" the Doctor wheedled, innocently.

"All right! Look, we'll leave you alone. We don't want anything to do with that stuff, okay? Just, just shut up and go away!"

"Oh, fine, if you want to be like that," the Doctor pouted. "Oh, one more thing, though..."

"What?" Dawson snapped, his crew already preparing to flee.

"You...wouldn't happen to have heard anything about a strange blue box, not very big, but not quite normal? That or a stone column of some sort?"

Kryten eyed the Doctor, beginning to speak, but was cut off by Dawson.

"According to the latest rumors, the Bound Ones were last seen on Calistair Five, about a month's journey from here," Dawson replied, just before his ship zoomed away.

"Well, there they go and all because the dear Doctor knows how to run his gob," the Master observed, laughing.

"Calistair Five. That's about a month away, Holly?" the Doctor asked eagerly.

"Well, yeah, about that," Holly agreed.

"I don't understand, sir. Why are you so interested in the Bound Ones?" Kryten asked.

"They're ships and they belong to us," the Master explained.

"The Bound Ones have been traveling the universe for centuries. People have tried to separate them, to sell them, even to put them in museums. Always they get free," Kryten lectured. "It is said they belong only to each other."

The Doctor and the Master exchanged disturbed glances, before the Doctor coughed, dramatically.

"Yes, well, they must have been looking for us all that time, trying to come to our rescue."

"But, if they're ships, why do they look like a stone column and a police call box?" Kryten asked.

"That's just their outward appearances. They can look like anything, as long as their circuits are kept in proper order," the Master explained, throwing a wry look at the Doctor. "It's meant as camouflage."

"What happens to us in a month, when you get your ships back?" the Cat asked, looking up from steaming the pleats on his pants.

"Well, that depends on you, really," the Doctor explained. "We can take you to any point in space and time, practically."

"Just don't ask him to take you to Heathrow," the Master teased.

"Oh, do be quiet," the Doctor moaned.

"Now, wait, what do you mean by anywhere in space and time?"

"We're Time Lords, Kryten. Our ships can travel to anywhere and when."

"I've never heard of Time Lords."

"Yeah, me neither," Holly interjected.

"We're not from this reality. The Valeyard stranded us here," the Doctor explained. "Once we have our ships, we'll be going back."

"I hate to say this, but without Dave Lister or Arnold Rimmer, we have no purpose in this universe. If you took us back to Earth, I'd be reprogrammed and Cat, well, he'd probably be dissected or something terrible!"

"Dissected!" Cat hissed. "A great-looking Cat like me?!"

"No one is getting dissected!" the Doctor assured him strongly. "Well, you're certainly welcome to come with us, Kryten. Our universe is a wonderful place. I'm sure you'd enjoy exploring it. And, with my and the Master's technical expertise, we can at last free you completely of your programming."

"What about me?" Cat demanded.

The Doctor smiled at him affectionately. "Oh, Cat, our universe would be perfect for you! I can introduce you to the Cat people on New Earth. You'll fit right in!"

"You have Cat people in your universe? Does that include...Cat women?"

"Indeed it does," the Doctor agreed.

"What about me then?" Holly asked a bit sadly. "With your own ships, you won't need me anymore."

"Well, maybe not as a ship per se," the Doctor conceded, "but I can always hook you up to my TARDIS. She doesn't get company often. You'd be good for each other."

"That's very generous of you, Doctor," Kryten conceded, rather astonished.

"Oh, good. We're not even back home yet and you've started."

"Started what?"

"Collecting companions. You've no plans other than traipsing about."

"I suppose you'll immediately start in trying to dominate everything," the Doctor observed, disapprovingly.

"Why do you have to do that? Why are you always so down on my dreams?"

"Because, your dreams get people killed!"

"Other than that!"

"You want to be a totalitarian dictator with complete control over everyone and everything!"

"So I'm ambitious, so what? I might be a good ruler. You don't know."

"You really are going to leave, once we're in your universe?" Kryten asked, unhappily. Dave Lister had been his best, perhaps only, friend. Now, everything was backward!

"He'll be off like a shot," the Doctor predicted, irritated.

"What do you want me to do? Wait around for you to trap me on some backwater?" the Master scoffed. "No, thanks."

The Master stormed off the bridge. Kryten watched him go, wanting to help, but believing that, for once, the Doctor was in the right.

"What are you going to do, sir?"

"Please, don't call me sir, Kryten. I don't know. I've never been able to get through to him. Right now, I think we should just let him cool off. We can work on breaking your programming," the Doctor suggested with fake cheer.

"You think you know how?" Kryten asked, hesitant.

"Certainly. The Master and I are both scientists, you know. That's just one small part of ourselves that was hidden in those watches."

"Well, all right," Kryten conceded, thinking of the loom that the Master had constructed so rapidly. He let the Doctor lead him off to one of the work areas.

When he went back to their quarters, the Doctor found the Master lounging on his bunk, reading a scientific journal that Lister had scorned at. He looked up, when the Doctor came in, frowning.

"What have you been up to?"

"I was helping Kryten break his programming. We've nearly got it fixed."

"Oh, good. Another slave freed. A slave freed and pirates vanquished, not a bad day's work for you."

"Please, stop."

"Always asking me to stop. Just stop. Try thinking of something more original."

"Is that what the problem is? You need me to think of something constructive for you to do?"

"To quote the erstwhile Dave Lister, 'smeg off.'"

"It doesn't have to be this way, you know."

"What do you want, Doctor? Seriously, think about it. What do you want from me?"

"I want us to stop. Look at us! Even as humans, we became some weird blend of friends and enemies! I want to drop the enemies bit."

"How then?"

"Just, stay, please. You once offered to let me rule with you. Well, now, I'm making my own offer. See the universe with me for a bit. I told you once I'd like that and I meant it. If you really can't stand it, you can always go back to conquering later. I don't think you'll want to though."

"You think traipsing around as one of your companions will be better?" the Master asked, skeptically.

The Doctor came forward, standing close beside his bunk. "As much as my companions mean to me, and I'm not denying that, I think you know you'd be more than that. You'd be my partner."

"Partners. Full partners."

"We were practically brothers, growing up. We can be again."

"We gotta get home, first."

"True. Good thing we have a couple of geniuses onboard."

"Yeah. Too bad one of them is an annoying git."

"That's all right. You're still my best enemy, anyway."

"Best friend, Doctor. If we're going to be traveling together, it's best friend."

"Right! Sorry. Best friend. That's what I meant."