Red Shift   

RED SHIFT 

By TimBeastie 

email graduc@aol.com 

REPOST.....welcome back RD 

A Red Dwarf/Due South Crossover: Rated PG-13 

Disclaimer: Writers...actors....TV companies etc....Due South/Red Dwarf.
Not mine. 

Dedicated to a birthday Swan who thought it might be an idea to cross
lines with the Dwarfers, it being their 10th Anniversary an’ all. Dreams
of having 10thDue South Anniversary <g> only Season 3 is a Rayless blip. 

 Into the Red 

"You’re a Mountie right?" 

"Yes, Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police." 

"So where’s your horsie?" Holly’s head floated down the screen a little
and looked round the cabin. 

"Horsie?" 

"Yeah you know dude, one of those animal thingies with two legs at either
end. Same as a camel but without the humps." Holly’s head nodded
encouragingly at the increasingly confused Mountie. 

"Yeah man." piped up Lister who was fishing his currently least smelly
sock from it’s hiding place. "Gotcha. No wriggling..it’s me foot or...the
smeggin’ laundry basket." The sock wriggled slightly and went limp. 

"Great." said Lister dropping his foot on the table and pulling the
indescribably coloured sock on. He looked up at the Mountie as he
performed this arduous task and pushed back his dreadlocks. 

"Yeah don’t all you mounties have horses, like man and beast in perfect
partnership an’ all that?" 

"Um well, that would be correct only my horse is currently in Regina I
believe, and in any case I don’t require a horse in Chicago, my duties
there are quite..are not "suited" for equestrianism." 

"Chicago?" said the Cat. He was a sharp suited individual who somehow
reminded Benton of someone he knew. 

"St Valentine’s Day Massacre and all that? So much blood buddy! Very
difficult to get bloodstains out, especially when they’re dried in you
know." 

He had his back to the mountie as he preened this way and that in a full
length mirror, well really a fuller length mirror as the Cat like a
rounded view of his best feature which according to him was "all of me!" 

Fraser pursed his lips and considered his situation. He made several
attempts to start a conversation but nothing seemed to get past the huge
mental block in his brain. *Where* was he? Who *were* these, these -
"individuals" seemed the kindest term available. Finally he took his
stetson off to let a little more air circulate round his deoxygenated
braincells. Not that that did much good. 

"Where’s Rimmer Cat?" asked Lister moving to his fridge and peering
cautiously inside. 

"I dunno, one minute he’s here yelling something about a transdimensional
gizmo’s he’s just found in Lt Kochanski’s knicker drawer, the next minute
poof. Mr Hoopy head’s done a runner. Like I care." shrugged the Cat
airily. 

"If I may interject here." said Kryten with a servile politeness to
gladden the heart of the most icy hearted Dragon Lady. 

"Sure Kryte. You got something ta tell us?" nodded Lister. 

"I am not *certain* Mr Lister sir, but it may just be possible that
Constable Fraser here has somehow, for technical reasons I need not go
into at this juncture, been swapped for, well Mr Rimmer." 

"Smeg!" said a startled Lister. 

"Smeg indeed. It doesn’t bear thinking about." said Holly gloomily. 

"Hey that means Rimmer’s where you ought ta be now." Fraser found himself
being addressed directly by the Cat who had swung round to give him the
benefit of a very wide and very bright smile. 

<Oh smeg, smeg, smeg!> thought Fraser, though still keeping his usual
butter wouldn’t melt (not much!) demeanour . 

 Chicago Blues (very) 

Meanwhile..... 

Second Technician Arnold J Rimmer at your service." said Rimmer, giving
his patented twirly hand salute. 

Lt Welsh looked up from his paper and sandwich strewn desk. 

"I assume Detective you have some reason for bringing this *person* to my
attention." He looked down at his desk. 

"My *overworked* attention?" suggested the lieutenant testily. 

"Oh yes sir." Vecchio was clearly in a flap about something though whether
major or minor it was so often impossible to tell or so thought his boss. 

"This..." Ray paused. He had better trim his story to fit the Lieutenant’s
current vision of reality because the truth would certainly wrap this cop
in the nearest straightjacket. 

"...guy has sumthin’ to do with Constable Fraser’s disappearance." 

Lt Welsh raised his eyebrows speculatively. 

"Indeed? I was unaware that the Constable had disappeared. Not of his own
free will I take it Vecchio? He hasn’t simply been summoned back to the
motherland?" 

"No sir. Umm one minute Benny, uh Constable Fraser, was chasing after this
..thief and the next..Mr Hood Ornament over there appears." 

"Just like that?" asked Welsh skeptically. He laced his fingers together
and contemplated the scene before him. 

"And just what had this *thief* stolen?" 

"I am *not* a thief." misunderstood Rimmer in the strongest terms. "It was
merely a rumour put about by Ensign Vavoons, I have absolutely no idea how
her bra..." He stopped as he realised his mistake. 

"Nothing, nothing at all." A cheesy grin of Cheshire proportions split his
face as he began to calculate how he could ingratiate himself with the
head honcho in front of him. As was usual in his life, or rather life
*and* death, Rimmer was ignored. 

"I’m waiting *detective*." Lt Welsh introduced another subtle layer of
menace and job insecurity into his voice. 

"Thief sir. Well you see.." The cop paused remembering the scene. Sure
Diefenbaker had been deprived of his treat but really there was no need
for the Mountie to pursue the errant daschund. For something that looked
like an extra large rat it had developed an amazing turn of speed. Vecchio
grinned involuntarily as he recalled Fraser’s frantic pursuit of the
scurrying dog into the building site, then through the *just*
Mountie-sized pipes. Hmmm Fraser was getting rather broad rearwise - musta
been snack sharing with Dief. 

Rimmer, having been ignored for fully 3 minutes, raised his hand and
leaned forward. 

"Excuse me. If you’ll kindly get the Italian barbarian to my right to
return my property, then we’ll say no more about the matter." 

"Alright?" He ended chirpily, and leaned back, smug oozing from every
pore. 

Ray’s head swivelled to his left and a Vecchio *look* shot through the
hologram. 

"Barbarian? Who ya callin’ a barbarian ya geek!" Vecchio moved
threateningly into Rimmer space. 

Rimmer remained smug for he knew that all the detective would get would be
very sore fists. Still, the cop still had the Transdimensional
Metatransformer. It irked Rimmer’s shallow soul that he had been duped out
of his prize so easily. 

He recalled the scene.... 

"So what’s that?" asked the strange fuzzy headed man before him, pointing
to the device. 

"Ah I’m glad you asked me that." said Rimmer with enthusiasm of one who
recognised he could spin any amount of technobabble and get away with it. 

"This is a Transdimensional Metatransformer." Luckily this was clearly
written in extra bold lettering all over the front. "Mark IV." He added
with the air of knowing all there was to know about Mark I-III. This had
been a little trickier to spot because it was on the back. No need to add
that due to its previous location Rimmer had developed certain *notions*
about *what* actually would be transformed. 

"Sounds cool, can I see it up close?" asked the man, elegantly garbed in a
long camel coloured coat. Well the guy had better dress sense than the Cat
considered Rimmer. He nodded and held out his prize. 

"Thank you kindly." said Ray and tucked the device into his coat pocket.
Then promptly arrested the desperately bizarre guy with the "H" symbol in
the middle of his forehead who had appeared out of the blue while his best
friend...well who knew? 

 Purple haze 

Kryten walked happily into the room he loved best, his workplace, where he
could perform all his most favourite duties; ironing, washing, cleaning,
preparing curry-led meals for his master or whatever Mr Lister's heart
desired. 

He stopped in mid stride. 

His masklike features aimed for a pout. 

Someone was ironing. 

He closed his eyes and did a quick but thorough check of his visual
subroutines. 

He half shook his head and opened his eyes. 

Someone was still ironing...cheerfully. 

"Excuse me sir?" Perhaps the dimensional jump had been too much for the
man. This was not proper human behaviour. Kryten's eyes widened as a
sudden possibility looped into his "what the smeg is this?" subroutine. 

"Ah sir, if you'll just come with me." Kryten strode forward and gripped
the Mountie's ironing arm firmly and pulled him out of the room. 

"I'm sorry, but where are we going?" protested the Mountie puzzled by the
mechanoid's behaviour. Fraser had felt an overwhelming impulse to do
something "normal", especially if this was going to be his permanent home.


"Now if you'll just lie down here sir. This is something I should have
checked out some hours ago. Silly me I forgot. Don't worry it's quite
painless." 

Kryten quickly popped a still protesting Fraser onto a bed which looked as
though it doubled as one of the latest sci-fi torture tables. 

"There and there and there." he said sticking electrodes randomly on the
Mountie. The restraining straps were made quite secure and set for any
eventualities. 

"Hmm, just as I suspected." 

"Suspected what?" asked the Mountie raising his head to look at Kryten who
was by a console studying the output intently. 

"No need to get into a tizzy. I think we need to have a little chat about
a place, a very special place, called Silicon Heaven. But before that I
need to talk to Mr Lister about something rather urgently. I'm sure you
won't mind waiting here." 

Fraser struggled ineffectually against the straps then subsided. No use
panicking. He started his deep breathing exercises instead, sending
himself rapidly into a deep trance state. 

Ten minutes later he was dimly aware of a conversation going on somewhere
above his left shoulder. 

"A mechanoid Kryten? Are you sure?" 

"Yes sir Mr Lister. Look at the output. Definitely not human. I'm not sure
which series, probably earlier than myself. They did so try to make us
look human before it became ahem a problem." 

Lister stroked his chin thoughtfully and looked down at the comatose
figure. 

"You think he doesn't know then?" 

Krtyen thought carefully. 

"Well sir, his description of his usual behaviour pattern alerted me to
the possibility in the first place, I mean what kind of idiot stands like
a statue to guard a building for hours on end?" Kryten laughted at his own
joke. Lister nodded and grinned. 

"But then he does claim to have come from late 20th century earth and you
know how weird humans were back then, begging your pardon sir. All in all
I don't think he is aware of his inferior station." 

"Yeah well neither of you are inferior Kryte. How many times do I have to
tell you man?" This was one of Lister's most infuriating traits thought
Kryten. Why couldn't the human just accept things as they were not how
he'd like them to be? 

Lister looked up. 

"You gonna tell him Krtyen?" 

"I think it is my duty to inform him of his *status*" replied Kryten
straightening to attention. 

"Yeah well I think I'll go and see if Cat's finished with the holoprog on
Deck 8. See ya later." 

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

"A mechanoid!" 

"Well, more like an android actually. You more closely resemble a human
male than do I." 

Kryten patted the Mountie's shoulder reassuringly. 

"You'll soon get used to things. Why you're halfway there already. I must
say your effort at ironing was almost... commendable. I'm sure with a
little coaching you'll soon be up to my standard. Well... perhaps not
quite." Kryten was insufferably proud of his ability to iron "smoother
than a baby’s buttocks" as he frequently reminded his crewmates. 

Fraser looked down at his hands, they looked human, they felt human but
this plane faced *robot* was telling him they were brothers under the
plastiskin. 

 Red Suits 

"What are those?" screeched Vecchio prepubescently, pointing a trembling
finger at his desecrated Riv. 

"You mean the dice?" Rimmer stretched forward and playfully swatted the
black spotted furry white blocks he had retrieved from a large receptacle
nearby. 

Ray grabbed the offending articles and threw them accurately into a nearby
and as yet unfrolicked through dumpster. 

Rimmer sulked audibly for the rest of the journey to Fraser’s apartment,
that being the only place Ray felt he could take his oddball companion.
His interview with his boss had been terminated abruptly by the arrival of
two very sinister looking Feds dressed from head to toe in black with the
strangest black shades he had ever seen, the kind of black which denied
the possibility of there ever being white. 

Rimmer’s lip curled at the sight of Fraser’s neighbourhood and as for the
apartment itself... 

"I had no idea the Canadian police force was so badly remunerated." he
sneered slipping into his normal arrogant git mode. Ray had felt obliged
to explain about Fraser in an effort to get Rimmer to shed some light on
the Mountie’s disappearance. Some help that had been. 

Ray caught a glimpse of Fraser’s white uniform gloves lying neatly on his
bedside table and winced. Tonight Fraser had to be on doorman duty for
some important (or so Fraser had emphasised repeatedly and to the point of
tedium over the past fortnight) Consular banquet. 

Keeping his temper miraculously Ray outlined his cunning plan. 

"OK here’s the deal." 

 Blue is the Colour 

On hands and knees and small mop pads Fraser tirelessly wiped the floor of
the corridor which stretched further than he could clearly see. A couple
of skutters skittered around him making rude mechanical comments on his
progress. 

Three hours later Fraser had covered 0.2 metres to the satisfaction of his
small critics. Sweat poured off his brow and his famously level temper was
getting a tad skewed. 

Three and a half hours later Kryten came to find out why the output from
the skutters had suddenly going offline. 

"You drowned them!" 

Both skutters' bodies stuck halfway out of Fraser's cleaning bucket. The
Mountie himself sat hunched up next to it head in hands. 

"I'm sure they can be repaired." he muttered past caring. 

"That is not the point. You have committed a crime against your own kind.
You don't realise. You might have wrecked your chances of getting into
Silicon Heaven." Kryten was aghast. 

"I'm tired, I ache all over and I don’t care, go away." said Fraser
standing up for himself belatedly. 

Running footsteps echoed behind them. 

"Now you're in trouble mister." sniffed the mechanoid. 

"Sir, this *android* has just terminated two of my best skutters." 

"It's alright Kryten..." 

"It is *not* alright Mr Lister sir. Murder is never *alright* Next you'll
be telling me it's *alright* for me to burn your toast. I think not!" 

Lister gave up on the distraught mechanoid and turned to Fraser 

"Listen man coulda been a hell of a mixup. The Cat borrowed a few chips to
enhance his Armani Goes Versace holoprog. We need to check you out again,
just in case." 

"You mean he might be human?" asked Kryten doubtfully. 

"Yeah I guess so." 

"Well. Better find out sooner than later." Kryten bent down and hoisted
the unresisting body of the Mountie into a fireman’s lift. 

 "Pink, the Bing on your Cherry"* 

Rimmer climbed quickly out of the Mountie uniform. Fortunately the stetson
had hidden his "H" and he had almost enjoyed the unthinking discipline of
his doorman duties. Pity about the lack of tips though. 

"Right" said the detective handing out the Transdimensional
Metatransformer. 

"You fulfilled your part of the bargain.. Let’s just hope this works." 

"Agreed." said Rimmer with emphasis. 

He took the device gingerly and looked uncertainly at the controls. 

Ray narrowed his eyes. 

"Ya do know what you’re doin’ with that?" 

"Of course." bluffed Rimmer and pressed a few buttons trying to replicate
the last sequence. 

Two seconds later. 

He vanished. 

Two seconds later..... 

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

Detective Raymond Vecchio reached forward to steady himself against the
kitchen table. His face was a picture of utter disbelief. 

"Benny?" he croaked. 

Constable Benton Fraser, RMCP seated himself and swung his legs carelessly
onto the same table. 

"G'day Ray! Wassup dude?" he slurred and reached to take a sip of beer
from the straw attached to the two cans of Extra Strength SmeegXXXXX lager
which in turn were strapped either side of his stetson. 

Ray drank in the full sordid picture; the bermuda shorts adorned with a
pink flamingo motif of deafening hue, Mountie issue braces attached to the
shorts but one currently halfway down Fraser's right arm, the undershirt
stained with a psychadelic assortment of food stains, the throat catching
smell of vindaloo. 

Dief's yelp could be heard over the noise of the Gummy triplets practising
for their next Hammond Organ recital. Rimmer had been really disappointed
about missing that. 

Luckily the window was open and Dief made good his escape. Difficult to
say what upset him most, the pictures of that hated bird, the overpowering
eau de chat, or the fact that his packmate had turned into a
complete....hmmm what *was* the word... 

Oh yes.... 

  SMEGHEAD! 

 THE END 

Notes: 

1. What do you think was the result of Fraser's second exam? 

2. Could it be that Lister was more successful *retraining* Fraser than he
has been with Kryten? 

<Heh, heh, heh> With a truly evil laff the beastie skips the scene........


* Singalonga Aerosmith ;)    

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