Watch My Dreams

The SIMULANT CAPTAIN's face appears on the monitor.

SIMULANT CAPTAIN: 

We have made some improvements to your craft.  

Now at least you may prove to be of some small amusement.

SIMULANT LIEUTENANT: 

You have two Earth minutes before we attack.

RIMMER: 

Let's get out of here.

CAT: 

Wait, I know This Game.  

It's called Cat and Mouse, 

and there's only one way to win -- 

Don't Be The Mouse.

LISTER: 

What are you saying?

CAT: 

I'm saying, 

The Mouse never wins.  

Not unless you believe those

  lying cartoons.  

We Don't Run, We Strike.  

It's The Last Thing They'll Be Expecting.

RIMMER: 

No, The Last Thing They'll Be Expecting 

is for us to turn into ice-skating mongooses 

and to dance The Bolero.  

And your plan makes

 about as much sense.

LISTER: 

I Say "Go with it."

KRYTEN: 

Agreed.

CAT: 

You're gonna go with one of my plans?  

Are you nuts?  

What happens if we all get killed?  

I'll never hear the last of it!

13 Model Shot.

Starbug pivots in flight 

and fires it's new laser cannons into the side

of the simulant ship.

14 Int. Simulant Ship.

The simulants look worried.

SIMULANT CAPTAIN: 

What are They doing?  

Power up The Weapons!

15 Int. Starbug Cockpit.

LISTER: 

Nailed Them.

16 Int. Simulant Ship.

SIMULANT LIEUTENANT: 

Fluke hit.

SIMULANT CAPTAIN: 

Take them with Us.

SIMULANT LIEUTENANT: 

Can't return fire.

SIMULANT CAPTAIN: 

Hack into their navigation computer.  

Transmit 

The  Armageddon Virus.

17 Int. Stabug cockpit.

The NaviComp starts to spark.

LISTER: 

What is it ?

KRYTEN: 

The NaviComp, something's wrong.

SIMULANT CAPTAIN: 

(On screen) 

See you in Silicon Hell.

18 Model Shot.

The simulant ship explodes.

19 Int. Starbug Cockpit.

KRYTEN: 

Shutdown all network links.  

The navicomp has been infected with 

A Virus.

LISTER: 

The NaviComp has frozen us out, 

we're locked on this course.  

If we carry on ahead at this speed, 

how long before we hit Trouble?

RIMMER: 

Well if you define 'Trouble' as a rather large moon 

directly in our path, about 38 minutes.

KRYTEN: 

Sir, The Only Solution is for me to 

contract The Virus myself,

  analyze it's structure 

and 

attempt to create a software antidote 

before it wipes out my core program.

Do I have your permission to sacrifice myself, sirs?

RIMMER: 

Do Lemmings like cliffs?  

Granted!

KRYTEN: 

I am going to have to create 

A Dove Program.

CAT: 

Dove program?

KRYTEN: 

A Dove Program spreads Peace through The System, 

obliterating the viral cells as it goes.

KRYTEN puts on head sensors 

and contracts the virus from the navicomp.

KRYTEN: 

The Virus is extremely complex.  

I will have to dedicate all my

  run-time to its solution.  

Shutting down all non essential systems.

LISTER: 

Is there anything we can do?  

Can we help?

KRYTEN: 

WATCH MY DREAMS.

*******

CAT: 

Wait, we're getting something.

21 Ext. Streets Of Laredo. Day.

The Monitor clears and KRYTEN is shown, 

dressed as a Sheriff in an 1800's

Western town.  

He is Drunk.

He throws an empty whisky bottle away 

before pausing before a wanted poster 

of the Apocalypse boys 

and entering a saloon.

22 Int. Ops Room.

CAT: 

What is This?

LISTER: 

I think we've tapped directly into 

whatever passes for Kryten's sub-concious.

CAT: 

Why is he A Sheriff in Some Old Western?

Because The Sheriff is allowed to Kill People -- 

Under Certain Circumstances.

Unlike A Policeman, he is 

Hired, Elected and Paid 

by The Community to DO it.

Because They Can't.

And sometimes, on The Frontier,

People Need to be Killed.

LISTER: 

Must be how his core program is coping with 

The Battle against The Virus.

For whatever reason it's converted The Struggle 

into some kind of dream.

23 Int. Saloon. Day.

Busy.  

A PIANO PLAYER plays a honky tonk version 

of Red Dwarf theme :

KRYTEN enters and tries to steer 

his way towards the bar.  

He passes JIMMY - a smooth oaf, 

playing cards with some unruly COWPOKES.

JIMMY: 

Well, well, well Sheriff, fancy seeing 

A Man of your sober disposition 

in a low-down drinking establishment.

KRYTEN: 

Now, now boys, I don't want any Trouble.  

Just doing my rounds.

As KRYTEN steps toward the bar JIMMY trips him up.

KRYTEN: 

You shouldn't ought to have done that Jimmy.

There is a scrape of stools and tables 

and JIMMY stands, hands on guns.

JIMMY: 

Why don't you try it, Sheriff.  

They say you used to be faster

  than a toilet stop in rattlesnake country.

KRYTEN: 

Sorry I tripped over your boot there Mr Jimmy, sir.  Arrrhhheeemm.

  Didn't mean any harm by it.

KRYTEN turns to the bar.

KRYTEN: 

Give me two fingers of your best sipping liquor, Miss Lola, 

and make it the smooth stuff — 

The stuff where you get your eyesight back after two days.  Guaranteed.

JIMMY: 

( Looking out of The Saloon Doors )

The Apocalypse Boys is Here.  

( General Panic, giving way to hushed silence. )

They's asking for you, Sheriff.

KRYTEN: 

I'll be right out.

KRYTEN takes numerous gulps of whisky 

before leaving the saloon to face

The Apocalypse Boys on The Porch.

24 Ext. Streets Of Laredo. Day.

The FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE 

sit menacingly on horseback outside the saloon. 

The bat-wing doors part and a nervous 

KRYTEN emerges swigging from a bottle of hooch.

KRYTEN: 

I don't believe I've had the pleasures, sirs.

DEATH spits out some chewing tobacco, 

which fizzles on the street like acid.

DEATH: 

The Name's Death.  

And These Here're My Brothers.  

Brother War...

WAR laughs and flames shoot out of his mouth.

DEATH: 

Brother Famine...

Fat FAMINE nods and takes a bite of chicken.

DEATH: 

and Brother Pestilence.

PESTILENCE grins, showing horrible broken teeth.  

He swipes idly at the swarm of buzzing flies around his head.

KRYTEN: 

Well, you seem like a nice neighbourly bunch of boys.  

How can I be Of Service?

All FOUR APOCALYPSE BOYS draw, 

shooting KRYTEN's hat off, 

and his bottle from his hand, 

as he dances around trying to avoid the hail of bullets.

Finally the  gunfire stops.

DEATH: 

We want your sorry ass out of Here.  

You got one hour.

DEATH spits a sizzler again, and THE FOUR HORSEMEN turn and gallop under

a dangling sign:  

'YOU ARE NOW LEAVING EXISTENCE'

and as The HORSEMEN

ride under it, They disappear.  

KRYTEN takes off His Sheriff's Star 

and throws it on The Ground.

25 Int. Ops Room.

LISTER: 

He's losing The Battle. 

Look at his lifesigns, they're barely registering.

CAT: 

Isn't there some way we can 

Get in There and Help Him?  

Somehow turn ourselves 

into tiny electronic people 

and get into His Dream?  

Isn't there some sort of gizmo 

lying around someplace that can do that?  

And if not, (slaps table) why not?!

RIMMER: 

Look, I think we've all got something 

we can bring to this discussion.

But I think from now on, 

the thing you should bring is Silence.

LISTER: 

No, no, no, I think he's got something.

CAT: 

Twice in one lifetime!  

When you're hot, you're hot.

LISTER: 

If we link up the Artificial Reality console to Kryten's Mind, 

we should be able to project directly into his dream state 

like it was a normal Computer Game.

CAT: 

What did I tell you?  

We don't even have to leave the room!

RIMMER: 

What about me?

LISTER: 

We'll shut all extraneous systems 

and power up your hard-light drive.

Come on guys, lets get these wagons rolling.