authors: Elvichar, Kim, Essy, Ariana and Vixen Rouge

Genre: x-over - Red Dwarf, Rentaghost, Voyager, Quantum Leap, Star Wars, The Sixth Sense etc ad infinitum.

Pairings : So very many.

Number of parts - 14

Ted Mumford was depressed. Dead for over three million years and now alone in the universe. When he'd first died at least he'd had Timothy Claypole and the others to keep him occupied. And his parents had passed away without ever realising their only son had gone a long time before they had. And there had been something about that mad jester. Something comforting.

But, as these things always do, it had all gone horribly wrong. Ted had left Rentaghost to find some sort of inner peace. Hundreds of years later he'd stowed away on a ship bound for deep space. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Lots of company, exploring new planets. Boldly going. And now he was stuck on a godforsaken planet in the middle of the deepest, deepest space.

After waiting for so long for a ship to come along then, Ted was somewhat surprised when two came at once.

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

"Identify yourself," The pixie-woman with a voice like Katherine Hepburn on lithium had said.

"Ma'am, I'm terribly sorry if we've offended you in some way, but we haven't seen any other humans for...oooh...how long has it been Mr Rimmer sir?"

Captain Janeway sighed. The Voyager's first contact with humanity in all these years and they seemed to be even more lost than they were.

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

Ted looked into the blackness above. No stars, just two points of light - two ships. He was saved.

"That is one big ship," Tom Paris commented, gazing up at the image on the viewscreen as they waited for the reply. Not at all sleek or streamlined, but boxy, and its outer hull a deep eye-catching red. It looked like it was over a kilometer long. "Do you suppose they came to investigate the strange sensor readings coming from that planet too?"

"That remains to be seen, Mr. Paris," replied Captain Janeway, hands on her hips as she too studied the strange new spacecraft.

"It would be unlikely that they merely 'stumbled across' this location, halfway to the Delta Quadrant," said Tuvok.

"And the being that spoke to us inferred that at least some of the crew is human," Janeway said. "Now what would a Federation ship be doing way out here? With minimal lifesigns? That ship is big enough to carry hundreds, maybe thousands, but according to our sensors there are less than a handful of people on board."

"Maybe not even people," added Ensign Kim. "I think the one that spoke to us was some kind of android, and there's someone or something else that I can't get a fix on. Kind of like the doctor without his mobile emitter."

"Same as what's down on the planet," mused Janeway. "Audio on." She waited as the verbal connection was re-established, her curiosity piqued. "Unidentified vessel, I say again -- identify yourselves."

Mumford looked up at the huge red giant that eclipsed the second ship. With no coin to toss, he just shrugged his shoulders and chose blindly. Pinching his nose, he vanished.

***

"Sirs, all I'm suggesting is that we wait to identify ourselves until we find out who these people are and what they want from us."

"Look, Kryten man, all I'm saying is that they might have vital supplies. We're running low on some really essential items. I mean really incredibly important things!"

"Such as?"

"Videos! I've watched every film on board about a million times."

"Clothes. Do you know what it's like having to worry all day about whether you're three million years out of date."

"If you could just try to see the bigger picture Mr Cat, sir. The scans are taking time to run, they may have weapons. They have technology far in advance of our own."

"You have to do that don't you? It's not about stating technical capacity it's about making me feel small. Can't you just take it as read that anything more complex than a Tonka toy is more technically advanced than us and then leave it be?"

Kryten immersed himself in the readouts and pretended not to hear.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

"Their computer has a quite complex, user-defined VR suite. Similar to Mr Lister's old 'Better Than Life' game, but without the addictive element."

There was a long pause before Lister spoke. "Kryten, we are *definitely* boarding that ship!"

***

He rematerialised in a grey painted corridor, every so often the walls would bear the legend JMC. Then he heard voices. At last! Mumford thought to himself, Company!"

"I don't think this is necessary."

"They're never going to let us play with their computer if we don't greet them nicely!"

"Sir their intentions were less than clear, if we retreat to the lower level and seal the arrivals deck temporarily, then when they board, we'll be able to question them, without risk."

"But I don't see why we have to wait in the basement levels..."

"Don't go into the cellar!!!"

They gaped at the stranger, who shrugged sheepishly and said "Sorry. Force of habit."

part four
by
Vix

Down in the bowels of the mining ship Red Dwarf a sheet of blue lightening became the solid form of a tall man. The man steadied himself against the railing and looked around at the advanced yet grungy machinery humming all about. He finally focused on the shiny side of a glowing box.

"Ohhh, boy," Sam Beckett whispered to his reflection. "I've Leaped as myself!"

******

Dave Lister stared at the nervous normal-looking man in front of him and slowly grinned a gerbil-cheeked grin. If this was an example of the strange ship's boarding techniques they had nothing to worry about.

"Hi, guy! Listen, you don't know how good it is t'see a human! I mean a real HUMAN! Not that these guys aren't great and all," he said to his three glaring shipmates, "but a mechanoid, a cat and a dead hologram can't really appreciate a nice curry, can they?" Lister took a step forward and lowered his voice confidentially. "So, what IS your ship's curry situation?"

"Errr..." said the stranger.

"'Cause we've got plenty of lager, but we're really low on is cumin and chili powder..."

"Oh, WILL you SHUT UP about the smegging CURRY!" Rimmer exploded. He rounded on the newcomer and shook a long finger at him. "Listen, m'lad..."

"Ted." Ted squeaked.

"Right. Ted. I don't know what you're playing at, but as commander of this vessel," Rimmer ignored the snickers and giggles from his crewmates,"...as commander of this vessel I demand..."

The being called Ted suddenly grabbed his nose in an odd gesture... and disappeared.

The crew of the Dwarf stared at the spot for a very long second.

"Damn!" The Cat said finally into the silence. "That must be some sinus problem!"

*****

Sam Beckett wandered through the deserted shipscape of pipes and ducts, deep in thought. The last time he could recall Leaping as himself, and not into another's persona, was the weird Leap where he was in some small town, and he had to save some miners, and talked to God who was a bartender...

No, that wasn't right. Was it?

He really hated this time-traveled induced amnesia. 'Swiss-cheesed', Al had dubbed it.

That's right! It had something to do with his partner Al! He had righted a wrong for Al...and his friend had disappeared. He had been Leaping on his own now… for how long? Months? Years?

Well, Sam hoped Al was happy, wherever he was. Whatever Sam did.

After picking through what seemed to be grossly neglected service ducts Sam found an elevator...a reassuringly old-fashioned looking lift that operated with switches. Pressing 'up', he leaned against the railing opposite and sighed.

"Ya know, starin' at it won't make it go any faster, kid." said the warm gravelly voice behind him.

****

"Great, just great! This is your fault, you smeghead." Lister said with a distracted pull on his dreadlocks. "First human contact since forever and YOU scare him off!"

"Act-u-ally that would be 'no'," said a feminine voice by his elbow.

"What's that, Hol?"

"Weelllll, first off, your friend Ted didn't come from the ship out there," said the ship's computer. Holly peered up through her blond bangs at Lister… or as much as a computer-generated disembodied head on a monitor screen *could* peer up. "Second, he's..."

"Dead!" Kryten said. He'd been staring at the readouts on Holly's monitors since Ted's' disappearance.

"What, a hologram like me?" said Rimmer, an odd mix of hope and fear in his voice.

"No, Mr. Rimmer, sir. As in a...ghost!"

The clunky red ship still filled Voyager's viewscreen.

"They're not answering our hails, Captain," said Kim, looking down at his console.

Paris turned to look at Janeway. "They seem to have forgotten all about us. I wonder what's going on over there."

"I don't know. Maybe we should beam some of our indispensable senior staff over there and find out," said Janeway thoughtfully. Chakotay, sitting beside her, nodded approvingly. But then he rarely argued with her: after all these years, he was still hoping to get the captain in bed.

"I'll tell you one thing," said Kim, "we're getting clearer readings on the life signs on that ship. Two humans, one humanoid apparently related to the cat family, one android and um... a couple of other things I can't quite get a fix on."

"A couple of other 'things'?" queried Tuvok, raising one eyebrow.

Kim shrugged. "I think one is some kind of primitive hologram. The others, I don't know."

"Captain, we're being hailed," said Paris.

The viewscreen filled up with the image of a man with flared nostrils and an H on his forehead.

"This is Arnold J. Rimmer, acting commanding officer of the mining ship Red Dwarf--" The man interrupted himself briefly and made a face as persons unseen sniggered behind his back. "We are in need of some supplies."

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. We're always happy to trade. What can we do for you, Mister Rimmer?"

Rimmer went in to some kind of huddle with his crewmates, including the android they had seen earlier. Janeway could hear snippets of conversation.

"Tell her we need chilli sauce, man."

"Never mind the sauce! I need a whole new wardrobe. Even my best silk shirt has so many holes in it you could put it on a table and call it a doily!"

"We *could* do with some new hoover bags, sir. Frankly, sewing up your old underpants just didn't achieve the same suction power."

"Really? Hey, buddy, at least there's one thing about you that doesn't suck."

"Oh brilliant, now the Cat has developed a wit. Look, are we getting any chilli sauce or not?"

"Perhaps we should compile a shopping list, sir, and then allow them to--"

The one called Rimmer had evidently had enough of this. He approached the camera again and smiled egregiously. He made a ridiculous salute. "Captain, ma'am. Seeing as you're so advanced, you wouldn't happen to have the ability to give a hologram a solid body, would you?"

Janeway exchanged a surprised look with Chakotay. She smiled at Rimmer.

"Well, as it happens, we do. Why don't you all come over and we can discuss trade arrangements?"

* * * * * *

Seven of Nine was working with Harry Kim in the transporter room. She looked up as the door swished open, and then turned her attention back to the console when she saw who had joined them.

"Naomi Wildman," she said dully.

"Hi, Naomi," said Kim.

"Hi," said the little girl. "Can I help you with something? What are you doing?"

Seven didn't look at the child. "We are recalibrating the transporter beam in order to bring over the occupants of that ship."

Naomi peered at the console. "Can I do the transporting? Harry showed me how, didn't you, Harry?" Kim nodded with an avuncular smile. "You press this button and then you wipe your fingers on this thing."

Naomi's demonstration was suitably correct, so Seven allowed her to activate the transporter. The girl had no sooner run her grubby fingers along the energising slide than an alarm went off. Several forms fluctuated on the transporter pad.

"Oh gee, have I done something wrong?" exclaimed the little girl.

"We are experiencing fluctuations in the transporter beam," said Seven, pushing Naomi aside.

"There's some kind of gravametric distortion emanating from the planet's core," said Kim.

Naomi frowned. "Can't you compensate?"

"Don't be a Wesley Crusher, Naomi," said Kim, patting her shoulder. "Now, run along like a good little girl."

"Who is Wesley Crusher?" asked Seven once Naomi had left and the transporter seemed reasonably stable.

"Someone Starfleet officers only mention with a shudder," said Kim with a grin. "Oh, here we go."

In spite of herself, Seven was relieved to see the six figures materialise on the transporter pad. She was beginning to develop that human weakness, compassion, and she knew it would have upset her to lose all these people, even though they were complete strangers. She hated being upset.

All of the people were male. The two nearest to Seven were a human with ropes growing out of his head, and a humanoid with big teeth and a lamé suit. With them was a man which Seven's tricorder identified as some kind of mobile hologram.

"Holy smeg!" said the man with the ropes when he saw Seven.

"Now that is a Babe with a capital B," said the one with the big teeth.

"No, Cat, that is a Barbie with a capital B," said the hologram disdainfully.

The android standing behind them pushed to the front. "Do excuse them, Ma'am. They haven't seen a woman in rather a long time. This is Dave Lister, and the Cat, and the hologram is Rimmer. I am Kryten."

He smiled politely. Seven looked him over with undisguised disgust. "You are an android. A primitive mechanical being devoid of organic matter. The Borg once used your sort to perform menial maintenance tasks."

"That's right, Ma'am," said Kryten. "I am a service mechanoid, at your service. If you need anything cleaned or washed or..." His square face took on a dreamy expression. "...*ironed*, just ask and I will be more than happy to comply. In fact, it will be my pleasure!"

While Seven was busy talking to the mechanoid, Rimmer and Lister had discovered that there was a stranger in their midst (the Cat was too busy staring at Seven to notice).

"Who the smeg are you?" asked Lister.

The man was looking around in awe at the transporter pad. He stared at Lister.

"I'm Sam Beckett. And before you ask, I've no idea what I'm doing here."

Seven looked in his direction and noticed something odd. Standing beside Beckett was a pale holographic projection of a man in the sort of flashy shirt Tom Paris favoured in the Holodeck beach scenario. She noticed that no one else seemed able to see him. Intrigued, Seven approached.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The hologram seemed surprised. He glanced at Beckett. "Sam, you don't suppose she can see me?"

"Of course I can see you," said Seven calmly. "I have specially adapted implants."

Dave Lister guffawed and looked at her chest. "You don't say!"

Seven ignored him. "I can see that you are short, old and wearing what I believe is termed a Hawaiian shirt."

"Short and old?!" exclaimed the hologram.

"She can definitely see you, Al," said Beckett with a grin. "He isn't normally visible to anyone but me."

"Ah, a subjective holographic projection," said Seven, nodding approvingly. "That explains why he is so faint."

"Well, people," said Kim in a loud I-am-making-an-announcement voice. "What do you say we all move on to the Mess Hall?"

"Short, old, and *faint*?!" grumbled Al as they all started to file out of the transporter room.

Seven was about to follow when she noticed that the transporter pad was reactivating on its own. Alarmed, she stayed and watched as another figure started to materialise.

* * * * * *

"Marty, this is dead boring, you know," sighed Jeff, leaning his head on his hand.

"Oh, stop whining and turn the page," said Marty impatiently. "I'll never finish this article on the latest Pentium III laptops if you don't shut up and keep turning the pages."

"But I don't care about laptops!" exclaimed Jeff. "And this magazine you made me buy is ridiculous. Four quid's worth of ads and typos and pictures of machines. And what's with these foldout ads? How am I supposed to keep this thing flat when it keeps falling open on ads for Dell and Dan and I don't know whatnot else!"

Marty widened his eyes and lifted his hands as if he was carrying a handbag. "Oooh, didn't we get up the wrong side of bed this morning!"

"Marty, you're a ghost. What do you need to know about computers for anyway?"

The ghost drew himself to his full height -- not very high, but still higher than Jeff (which wasn't very hard). He pouted and put his hands on his hips.

"You wouldn't let it lie!" he exclaimed grandiosely. "You just had to remind me I'm a ghost."

"I would have let it lie, but I'm fed up with turning pages," said Jeff with a grudging smile. "You are the slowest reader in the universe. It's worse than your driving!"

Marty shrugged and wandered off like a sulking child. "You don't know what it's like. I can't do *anything* without you. I have to go everywhere you go, I can only read what you want to read, watch the TV shows and movies you want to see. Why don't you ever take me somewhere interesting like... the theatre?"

"Theatre? What, you want to go and see MacBeth or something?" said Jeff.

Marty brightened up. "Yes. That has a ghost in it, doesn't it? And lots of blood and magic and stuff. And I've never seen it all the way through. I fell asleep when Mum wanted to watch the BBC production."

Jeff stared at Marty with undisguised horror. He pictured himself having to sit through three hours of incomprehensible Shakespearian verse. Or worse, Marty might insist they go to the reconstructed Globe Theatre. Jeff pictured himself *standing* through three hours of incomprehensible Shakespearian verse.

Marty could tell Jeff wasn't impressed. "Okay, what about the opera?"

"Gilbert and Sullivan?" said Jeff hopefully.

"No, how about sad stuff like Puccini?"

"Puccini? Marty, since when are you such a fan of classical things?"

Marty waved his arms in irritation. "Since I've been bored out of my mind! I'm tired of coming to this office every day and talking to you all the time, and then going to your place to watch you eating takeaways and crisps. I need action, I need entertainment. I'm tired of living your dreary life with you!"

Jeff made a face and crossed his arms. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not interesting enough for you to haunt. Of all the ungrateful--"

He interrupted himself as something very strange happened. The office around him faded into static, like an untuned television set, only more so. Then it reformed into a room with shiny metallic panels. Since Jeff's chair had disappeared from under him, he fell on his bottom with a thud.

There was a bald man in some kind of padded pyjamas standing beside the platform Jeff was sitting on.

"Ah, welcome to Voyager," said the man, helping Jeff to his feet. He then consulted a flat PDA-type thing he was holding. "I am the doctor on board, and I am a hologram. Don't worry, I will take anything you say absolutely seriously."

Marty shimmered into existence and observed the doctor with amusement. "Tell him your mother is an orang-utan, and see if he takes *that* seriously... Though come to think of it, he just might!"

Jeff made a face at him.

"I apologise for dragging you here," continued the doctor. "Our transporter is malfunctioning and seems to be randomly beaming in people from various time periods and alternate universes who can communicate with invisible or dead beings. Now, you seem real enough. Do you have a friend, relative or work colleague who is a hologram or a ghost? And is he or she visible to other people besides yourself?"

"What is this, a survey?" asked Marty.

"I... um..." Jeff looked around him, completely bewildered. "My partner's a ghost. I'm the only one who can see him."

The doctor smiled pleasantly. "Good, now, if you'll follow me, I'll introduce you to a few people you have some things in common with."

* * * * * *

"Blimey, what is this? The Casper fanclub reunion?" exclaimed Marty when the doctor ushered them into a place called the 'Holodeck'. "Some of these people are ghosts!"

"I know, I can see them."

Jeff looked around at the room. It looked like an old-fashioned American bar, and there were already quite a few people there. Some looked pretty ordinary, though their costumes varied wildly. But others were dressed in white, like Marty. The only difference was that these ghosts were touching things: their drinks, the furniture, even the people around them.

"Marty..."

Jeff followed his hunch and held out his hand. It met the now solid surface of Marty's white coat. The ghost's little blue eyes grew quite large with astonishment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted as a man with dreadlocks came to join them.

"Hey, welcome to the Spooks and Holograms convention!" he said with a congenial smile. "This is my dead colleague Rimmer the Hologram."

"Will you stop introducing me as 'dead'," said the hologram. "You're ruining my chances!"

"Look, you can touch again, man. Can't you stop being a smeghead for a minute?" He held out his hand. "Dave Lister. I'm one of the living ones."

"Marty Hopkirk. Deceased," said Marty, shaking the man's hand as if he couldn't quite believe that he could. "I used to know a Graham Lister. Never met a Dave, though."

"Oh, and what was the Graham like?"

"Um. A 'smeghead' as you say." Marty obviously liked that expression. Jeff had a feeling he'd be hearing it again.

"I'm Jeff Randall," he said since he felt he had to say something.

"Oh really?" said Rimmer. "That's funny, because so is that man over there."

The hologram indicated a tall man with a Seventies hairstyle. He was chain smoking and talking to a ghost in a cream suit.

Marty leaned over to mutter in Jeff's ear. "Another Jeff Randall, eh? If that shortarse in the Beatles wig turns out to be a Marty Hopkirk, I'll scream."