Gentlemen, crack open a fresh pack of rubber pantaloons, we have problem.
We're picking up ship heading straight for us
in an unmapped region of deep space.
Where?
Here in Region Uncharted, Sector No Name, Quadrant Nameless.
Message incoming.
I am seeking JMC Second Technician
Arnold Judas Rimmer.
Keep it zipped. Say nothing. Sound-wise, we're going commando people.
That's him there!
I cracked. Sorry, guys!
I tried to stay strong, but he broke me!
Second Technician Rimmer,
I understand you have a crew man who falls under your jurisdiction.
A David Lister.
Right there, bud!
Sorry, guys, he... He broke me again!
What do you expect? I'm not made of concrete!
I am Combat Droid Four of Batch 27.
We wish to conduct a transaction of goods with you.
But you're simulants. You despise humans.
Why would you wanna trade with us?
You have something we want and we have something you want.
- What? - A hostage
taken from human transport ship.
Allow me to show you.
We cannot negotiate with simulants.
We cannot cave in to their insane demands.
Under no circumstances are JMC personnel permitted to negotiate with the enemy.
Guys, it's me! They've taken me hostage.
You've gotta help me! Argh!
Of course, that's what the JMC think,
but who the hell listens to those pen pushers?
Here are our demands.
One second. We need a moment.
What's going on here?
Is that me? How can it be me, I'm here?
There are a number of options, sir.
All involving you and all extremely bad.
I'm all ears!
Perhaps that person we saw is a different version
of Mr Rimmer from an alternative dimension.
So, if he dies, not the end of the world?
Or perhaps he's a clone of Mr Rimmer
produced somehow from his DNA.
Again, if he dies, not the end of the world.
Or perhaps that man is you, sir,
a you seized from the future and taken back into the past.
Again, if he dies, not the end of the world.
We've no choice, we're gonna have to negotiate.
- But we never negotiate with the enemy. - Until today.
Well, if that's the way they're gonna roll, let me handle negotiations.
You think I'm gonna leave the life of a possible future me in your hands?
I've seen movies, Rimmer. I know how to talk to hostage takers.
I've done JMC crisis negotiation, Lister.
I'm handling this. Now, get me a pad and open comms.
Okay, Arn, we're working on the pad.
But in return, I'm gonna need something from you.
Wait a minute.
Are you just using your hostage negotiation techniques on me?
Just get me a damn pad!
Okay, Arnold, we're working on the pad, but you gotta realise
I can't pull a pad out my ass in five minutes.
I've gotta talk to my boss. They've gotta talk to their boss.
They've gotta talk to the DA.
Here are my demands.
In return for the whiney human hologram man,
you will give us the Casket of Cronos,
which you salvaged from our abandoned attack ship the AS Thanatos.
The Casket of what? What's that?
It contains the essence of 23 of 27.
I remember this.
It's upstairs in the rec room underneath the pool table.
- For safe keeping? - Nah, to keep the table level.
Go and get it!
Oh, man!
Now the pool table's gonna be all bent and wibbly again!
You have the Casket of Cronos?
How do we know you won't betray us?
I am 4 of 27. I am a warrior and high born.
Who do you think I am? Three of 63?
Three of 63? You're nothing like him.
Then, we trade.
Now, what about the hostage?
Wait. I'm being taken hostage...
I'm back! Thank god!
I was their hostage. I didn't think you were ever gonna save me.
I was kinda hoping we weren't!
You were only gone two seconds.
Two seconds for you, but for me it was hours.
I overheard what they were saying.
That Cronos casket didn't contain the spirit of anyone.
It was an amplifier they needed to plug into their temporal transporter
to expand the beam.
- What? - They're Expanoids.
What the hell are Expanoids?
Droids capable of doubling their transistor power every two years.
They progress so rapidly,
they became threat to every living entity in the universe.
What are they planning?
To travel back into the past to change the present.
That's a bit old hat, isn't it?
How many times have we seen that before?
Expanoids are unemotional, cold-hearted psychopaths.
They will have no hesitation
using hackneyed old clichés if it suits their purpose.
If they've gone back into the past to screw around with human evolution,
how come I'm still here?
Maybe you didn't qualify?
Look at the scanner.
They're accelerating. Preparing to time jump.
We need to get after them, stop whatever they're doing
and get that Cronos machine back.
So, we can utilise its time travel abilities ourselves?
No, so we can prop the pool table back up.
We haven't got a second to lose. If we hurry we can time surf
on their slipstream.
Planet up ahead.
I'm detecting some kind of electron wavelet.
Approaching at speed.
We've lost navigation.
- And steering! - And monitors!
And me...
I think what he was about to say was we're both...
All the electrics are down! What the hell's happening?
We're crashing, that's what the hell's happening.
Now, brace!
Do you think this is a good time to make a crack about my teeth?
Brace!
Argh!
- Argh! - Argh!
Argh!
Kryten could'nt be more fried if he was a Mars bar living in Scotland.
- Rimmer is out too. - Every cloud!
What the hell happened?
We got hit by some sort of electromagnetic pulse weapon.
It's taken out the grid and drained everything connected to it.
We need to reboot using the auxiliary drives.
Jump leads attached.
I always forget which one's positive and which one's negative.
Don't get 'em mixed up, bud!
Or he'll wind up with nipples
that look like two barbequed-flavoured Nik Naks.
Here's goes nothing.
Okay, start her up.
Sir, what happened?
Kryten, stand up and walk up and down really fast to recharge your dynamo.
Get going! And don't stop till you're fully charged.
Close hatches. So embarrassing.
- What happened? - I think we got hit
by one of those PMTs.
And where are the Expanoids?
There's no sign of their ship and there's no sign of them.
Kryt, any theories?
Well, according to the monitor, they too landed here,
but due to the curvature of space time,
several years have elapsed in the time it took us to get here.
We've gotta find them and get that Cronos machine!
Well, the vibrations in the lithosphere tells us there's some kind of township
not far from here.
- Are we there yet? - Not far now, sirs.
Real people?
I'm gonna be seeing real people again.
Gas street lighting. Steam-powered right-hand drive motor vehicles.
Technology-wise this time period doesn't correlate with anything in my database.
Any theories, Kryts?
Mmm, not at this juncture, sir.
Why do you always ask him if he's got any theories?
I'm acting stand-in, commanding, senior, premier officer.
Why do you never ask me?
Maybe I've got a theory?
Maybe I've got a really great theory.
But you're always too busy asking him
to find out how great my theory really is.
- Okay, any theories, Rimmer? - No!
- It's the principle. - Look at that.
"Closed for violation of the Prohibition Act."
Prohibition, that was the 1920s.
Yeah, when alcohol was banned and the bootleggers took over.
Dark days.
Society run by a bunch of hoodlum gangsters, dark days indeed.
I was thinking more about the booze ban.
Whatever they prohibited around here, it ain't booze.
Look at that!
Well, if it's not booze they prohibited, what is it?
According to this leaflet, the year is 1952,
nearly two decades after prohibition ended.
Hey! What's going on?
- Get 'em! - Hey, don't move.
Well, lookie here, illegal contraband.
If that's the penalty for toast, what the hell do you get for pizza?
It's not the toast that's illegal, sir. It's the technology.
That's why that electron wavelet shut down Starbug.
Any technology beyond the 1920s is illegal 'round here.
Unless, of course, you're an Expanoid.
The Expanoid's haven't travelled into the past to change the present.
They travelled into the past to enslave humanity.
- It's contraband. - By doing what?
By travelling to a point in history where we haven't got the technology
to defeat them or defend ourselves.
And they plan for it to stay that way. Hence the tech ban.
A tech ban which means you, sir, are illegal.
He is?
I may move here. Lay down roots and start a family.
He's not the only one who's illegal. So am I!
You know the penalty.
Looks like they're gonna shoot them! Hey!
Move! Get outta here!
Don't move! Get 'em!
Argh.
- Is he dead? - He's moaning.
Can you blame him? He's just been shot!
Did you see what happened?
Yeah, we saw. We'll get you a doctor.
No, It's too late. I ain't gonna make it. Here.
Pizza delivery. You want a pizza now?
Oh, wrong pocket! Argh!
The Lady Be Good Club.
Here. Ask for Harmony De Gaultier.
And give her this.
What is it?
It appears to be some kind of machine part, sir.
We've gotta get to this Lady Be Good Club.
Uh, dressed like this? We gotta get some clothes!
Oh!
Have you done this before?
It was the only way to get home sometimes,
when I lost all me money playing Texas Hold'em.
I know it was wrong. I was young, I was stupid.
But what do you really know when you're seven?
Stealing cars at the age of seven? Why didn't you take the bus?
Hotwire a bus? I was seven!
I just wasn't up to it.
Catching the bus.
What's wrong with catching the bus home from school?
Who mentioned school? I was off shoplifting.
Don't look at me like that.
I've been on the straight and narrow since I was nine.
Or ten. All right, eleven.
This must be it.
There's no buzzer.
Tech cap.
Allow me, sirs. I'm well versed in the ancient human signalling technique
that was all the rage before electro-magnetism was discovered
and the electric buzzer took off.
Now, if memory serves...
We're out.
I'll handle this.
Americans love the English accent. So, that rules out Lister.
They're particularly impressed by people who say "whom" a lot.
I bid you good evening, stout fellow.
My companions whom stand before you
require information about a personage to whom I understand
frequents your establishment
and who goes by the name Harmony De Gaultier.
Are whom acquainted with said lady?
You been drinking the giggle water.
If you ain't members, beat it.
Listen, buddy.
You know who you got standing out here,
nuts so cold you can serve him up in a Martini cocktail?
Lucky "No Middle Name" Listerano.
Ain't you got no lugs? I said blow!
Wait, Listerano.
He ain't related to the scientist Joseph Lister, is he?
Uncle Joe! Course I am.
Right down the stairs. First on the left.
What is this place?
It appears to be some sort of illicit science club.
A place where bootleg professors
and astrophysicists get together to create illegal tech
and discuss outlawed scientific theories.
You boys want company?
We're looking for a Harmony De Gaultier.
Hey, Har, there's a bunny here who wants to get acquainted.
So, uh, you wanna grab a drink first
or you wanna go somewhere quiet and discuss relativity?
For an extra 10 bucks, I'll do both, general and special.
No, that's... That's not why I'm here.
You into electrons? Is that what pings your microwave?
You wanna watch me do the double slit test?
And experience the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics?
What?
No. Every guy likes particles that turn into waves, right?
Or maybe you're more in the mood for some Copenhagen interpretation?
You know what I'm talking about. Where sub-atomic events
are only perceptible as indeterministic physically discontinuous transitions
between discreet stationary states.
Look, we're not here to do science with you, okay?
I'll wear a tweed suit and sensible shoes
if that revs up your engine.
We're here for something else.
Hey, I don't do the Big Bang!
That's Beryl.
And if you're looking for unified field theory, I ain't your gal.
Look, we've been sent here to deliver some gizmo.
We got told you might help.
This is the capacitor.
The cops get their mitts on this,
we're deader than Galileo's theory of tides.
So, who are you?
Just some guys from the future, looking to help.
So, what does that thing do?
It fits into this.
But how I don't know. It's not my area.
- You were just keeping it safe. - Exactly. No one goes up there.
So, what does this thing do?
It infiltrated the electron wavelet and redirects it.
Creating an EMP to destroy the Expanoids.
- You got it. - Any clue how they go together?
We're all theoretical.
And all the scientists still active have been driven underground.
No one's exactly Ra-Ra about getting sent to Old Steamy.
So, there's no scientists around who can put this thing together?
Just the bums and palookas who fell apart
- when they couldn't practise science. - But where are they?
They spend all day drinking themselves goofy.
Einstein, Hubble and Edison.
But you only get phonus ballonus out of those screwballs.
They're spifflacated morning, noon and night.
Did you say Einstein, as in Albert Einstein?
Sure. He's half goofy now, screaming at people who aren't there.
Walking around the park pushing a pram full of string.
He's got some theory about it, but no one will listen.
Pram theory?
Einstein's one of the most brilliant minds that ever lived.
He can do anything.
You think I'm just off the boat?
Well, where will we find him?
At this time? Probably on the corner of Hope Street with the other blueys.
Hey, man, is that your pram?
Yes!
Sir, allow me to introduce myself.
Who the hell are you?
Acting senior officer Arnold Rimmer from the mining ship Red Dwarf.
I have to say, at school, I always loved a bit of science.
Bunsen burners, brilliant. Dropping sodium into water.
All the fizzing. Marvellous.
Oh, and congratulations on... What was it again?
The theory of relativity, sir.
The theory of relativity.
I don't know what you're talking about?
Of course, of course!
In this world, he hasn't achieved anything.
So, how can he help us?
He'll still be a genius.
Whatever problem we give him, he'll be able to solve.
Come on, let's get Einey the Winey back to the Lady Be Good.
It's my pram. My pram.
You leave the string alone, yes?
Don't take my string.
You leave my string alone you see?
Your string is fine, sir. Your string is safe.
- My string. - We won't touch your string.
- My string. - It's your string.
Would you mind getting him a steak with spring fries or something?
Now, here's the problem, we've gotta get this into this somehow.
How?
You think I know?
I don't know.
Yes, you do, and do you know why?
Because you're genius. You can do this!
- I can do this? - We realise electrics
isn't strictly Einstein's field,
but we thought he was so incredibly brilliant,
he'd be able to figure it out.
You ain't gonna get nothing outta this gutter muncher.
Oh, and why not?
'Cause this bird ain't Einstein!
What, he's just some old bum who pushes around a pram full of string?
You got it.
We haven't been introduced. I am Bob the Bum.
So, you want to know if I can get this potato into this potato?
I'll get right onto it.
I didn't realise I was so brilliant!
Cops, coming down the alley!
It's a raid!
Find something to do! Don't look suspicious.
It doesn't go there, how about there?
I can do this, I'm brilliant!
Okay, everybody pipe down! Quiet!
This is a raid.
Hey, drinking and dancing ain't illegal. What's the beef?
Harmony De Gaultier.
Now that's one fancy stage name,
but you ain't fooling no one, Professor Baldwin!
That's who you are, ain't it?
A dirty, no-good scientist who'll discuss
theoretical physics with anyone so long as the funding's right.
I'm outta the science game now, see?
I ain't touched a petri dish in months.
How dense do you think I am?
You really wanna know? just divide your mass by your volume.
Hey. What the hell happened to your face?
Who me? I went bobbing for apples in the cement mixer.
Sure ya did.
So what do you do?
I just play in the band, ma'am.
Ooh, and what about you?
Are you a scientist?
You think scientist could tap dance like that? Hmm?
Wait a minute.
How come you're drinking out of an Erlenmeyer flask?
They've been doing science! You're busted!
We nailed a couple of white-coats, boss.
We think they know something about this screwy contraption machine
the resistance bunnies have been working on to whack you guys.
So, we meet again.
You really don't mind a hackneyed old cliché, do ya?
You know, we're really not so different, you and I.
Now you're taking the smeg.
What is it you want?
Human beings in the distant future
realised that humanity was not mature enough
to handle modern technology.
And so, we were created to prevent that version of the future
from ever happening.
We are the good guys here.
But you kill people!
No one said that we couldn't have a little fun along the way.
So what happens to us? Are you gonna kill us too?
I wasn't planning to, but, you know, that's a really good idea.
You're gonna kill us in cold blood?
Actually, human blood isn't cold. It's around 37.5 degrees centigrade.
Prepare to die, human scum.
You said you were a high born! A droid of distinction.
A real big spender!
So much better than that other droid, what was his name?
Three of 63.
Did someone say my name?
Ah, so you're of three of 63?
- What of it? - Nothing. Er, don't say anything.
We're good now.
He was slagging you off behind your back.
- He was? - Look, just leave it, three of 63.
It's not worth it.
No, no. You were slagging me off behind my back.
Look, you remember we were going through that bad patch?
Well...
You're no better than 18 of 241.
Ooh!
Two potato makes one potato!
- You did it! - Bob!
You are brilliant!
Just like you said!
We don't have much time.
This place will be swarming with Expanoids in no time.
If I can hook this to the transmitter,
we can send the signal worldwide and wipe out all the mechs.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. What about Kryten?
We have to detonate it, there's no choice.
- No! - Lister, don't you see?
Once the Expanoids are gone, you can stay here.
We'll no longer be trapped together.
I can't lose Kryten.
Listen to me, sir, Mr Rimmer is speaking only about what is best for you.
As obviously detonating a global EMP will destroy him too.
Hang on, it's gonna take me out too?
Anything electrical.
My hair straighteners?
Hand over the EMP.
I already detonated it while you two were yacking.
You got 15 minutes to scram!
Leg it!
We're five minutes to orbit!
Activating the Cronos machine.
Sir, we're gonna hit some turb at 37,000 feet.
Any chance we can go a shorter route?
Not according to Pythagoras.
Yeah, well, Pythagoras wasn't much of pilot.
Leave this to me.
I learned a few things today, Kryten.
Hmm, really sir? What about?
Well, it seems to me us humans better be on our toes.
Make sure we don't lose ourselves and let technology take over.
Mmm, I'll make a note, sir, and remind you
if you ever appear to be in danger. Arms?
Yeah. Yeah, you do that.
Shoe.
Other shoe.
Socky.
Other socky.
You can't rely on machines, Kryten,
or else we'll lose the very thing that makes us human.
Open.
Ah!
That's the lad.
♪ It's cold outside There's no kind of atmosphere ♪
♪ I'm all alone More or less ♪
♪ Let me fly Far away from here ♪
♪ Fun, fun, fun In the sun, sun, sun ♪
♪ I want to lie Shipwrecked and comatose ♪
♪ Drinking fresh mango juice ♪
♪ Gold fish shoals nibbling at my toes ♪
♪ Fun, fun, fun In the sun, sun, sun ♪