Richard droned, squinting at the several cards he had in his possession. Paul looked avidly over his shoulder, silently urging him to finish.

"....aaaaaaaaone?"

Tim stared at the one card in his hand. After a minute of needless silence, his stomach-wrenching answer of "nope" signalled that the game would begin anew.

"Have you got aaaaaaaaaa...."
 
 

Paul looked from Rich, to Tim, and back to Rich again, before sighing heavily and dropping into the 3rd chair. The table shook slightly as Paul's forehead came into contact with the worn and stained wood. Rich and Tim only flicked him glances of annoyance before returning their full attention to their thouroughly absorbing game.

"....aaaaaaaaking?"

Paul looked up in anticipation, but he knew the answer before Tim finished the question. Rich frowned, then widened his blue eyes to almost a comical level.

"Nope"

Muttered curses and threats of bodily harm emanated from the part of the table where Paul's face had landed again.

"Have you got aaaaaaaaaa...."

Paul's strangled sobs stopped just long enough to hear Rich say "....aaaaaaaone?"
 
 

The scream that came from Paul's lungs could only be described as a tormented blood-curdling howl.
 
 

This finally put the two cardplayers off their game. With very deliberate movements, Tim put his card face down on the table, flicked fringe out of his brown eyes, and donned a look that was both superior and sympathetic - the look he saved for the old, mentally handicapped and engineering students. Clearing his throat, he began.
 
 

"Paul," Tim started slowly "Richard and I have noticed that you've seemed...well....frankly a little tense of late. Now," he was beginning to warm to the subject "I want you to feel that you can come to us. You," he elaborately gestured to Paul "can come to us". He put his hand on his chest, and gave Richard's shoulder a reassuring shake. "Don't feel you have to hold anything back" Rich gave a nod in mute aquiescence, a laughable look of concern on his face.
 
 

A look of complete and utter bewilderment crossed Paul's face, then he started laughing maniacally. The gameshow host's smile Tim had plastered on his face began to wane.

"YOU THINK I'M HOLDING BACK?!" Paul began to pace, wringing his hands in a very violent manner. "Well if you insist. Timothy? I won't try to suppress the urges I have at the moment to rip off all your limbs one by one and bugger you to death with the soggy end of your right arm" Tim gave a panicky side-long glance at Richard, and began to slowly back away from Paul.
 
 

"What it lacks in finesse, it makes up for in spectacle. And Richy? Richy, Richy Richy," Paul gave a very self-deprecating smile that was quite disarming. "Rich? I'm getting a picture involving you, a bowl of water, a power point, jumper leads and 14 volts of direct current" Rich then deemed this a good time to start retreating from the room ever so slightly.
 
 

"I mean, we're flying through space for christ's sake, and you spend all your time playing GO FISH?! And not just one, quick, simple game, 'cause let's face it, you don't have to be an INTELLECTUAL GIANT to play-" he paused for a moment "well, that's fairly bloody obvious if YOU two tosspots find it amusing, but one game takes HOURS to play!! I can not believe it!! I-" But by the time Paul turned around, he was alone in the room. Slowly his anger began to subside.
 
 

He sat down in a chair, letting his head loll over the backrest. "I need to get away from those wankers and relax. Just for a little while...." Paul rested his head in his hands ".....and then, by crikey by jingo," he smiled, and a devilish twinkle lit up his eyes "it's payback time for Tweedledum and Tweedledummer".
 
 
PART 2
 
 
"Tim, have you seen Paul?"

"Nope. Not since he chucked that absolute tanty yesterday. Boy needs to get some new shoulderpads" Tim replied while idley flicking through a leaflet proclaiming 'Make Molotov cocktails for fun and profit!'
 
 

Richard looked worried. "I'm just disturbed. It's not like him at all to yell abuse, threaten us with torture and disappear".
 
 

Tim looked up from what he was reading, his eyebrow coming close to meeting his hairline. "What do you mean? It's exactly like him! And don't worry, the pixie can look after himself"
 
 

"I suppose you're right....." Rich scuffed his boot against the floor. Tim looked up at him and sighed.
 
 

"Rich, if it makes you feel better, do you want to have a look in his room to see if he's in there or something?" Richard brightened up immediately, and started to skip.
 
 

Shaking his head, Tim got up out of his seat, and with a quick look in the mirror he kept in the top pocket of his overalls, they headed across the room to Paul's annex. Tim knocked ever so quietly on the door. "Paul?"
 
 

No answer.
 
 

He licked his lips and knocked a bit louder. "Paul? Little buddy?"
 
 

Still no answer.
 
 

Finally, curiosity got the better of him. Taking a deep breath, Tim placed his hand on the on the hatch's doorknob. "Rich, cover me; I'm goin' in". Richard rolled his eyes heavenwards, and followed Tim into Paul's room.
 
 

The dimly lit room was filled with the most obscure objects. Objects ranging from a chainsaw to Dali's 'Spectre of Sexuality' lined shelves, while almost every bit of wall space was covered in drawings.
 
 

Paul was nowhere to be seen.
 
 

It was while they were looking around for some clue as to where he had gone, Richard discovered a note in Paul's characteristic child-like scrawl addressed simply to 'Ferguson'. Tim took the note out of Richard's hand, cleared his throat and began to read aloud.
 
 

"Dick-brain,

Gone into the lower decks of the ship to take a break from you two sheet-stains.

Don't know when you and Mr Charisma can expect me back. I just need to get away from you emotional retards.
 
 

Paul
 
 

P.S. Get the hell outta my room!"
 
 

Tim folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. "Hmmmm, that's Paul, alright....so......who's for a game of Snap?"

Richard looked disbelievingly at Tim.

"What?!"

"Gin Rummy?" Rich began to rub his temples.

"No, Tim, what are we going to do about Paul? We can't just let him wander around the ship? There's catalogueing to be done, not to mention we actually have to pilot this crate!! And what about-"

"Rich, mate...." Tim put his arm around his shoulder "So, Paul has gone missing...but look on the bright side - Paul has gone missing!"
 
 

Richard sighed. "If it's all the same to you, I think I might go looking for him. You know, just to see if he forgot anything, and wants me to take it to him..."
 
 

Tim shook his head. "Rich, Rich, Rich.....you're a Scrabble man, aren't you?
 
 
PART 3
 
 
Tim was reading up on Tanks of the Third Reich, when Richard stepped out of his room.

"Well, I'm ready to go" Tim looked up from his book. Richard was standing there with everything one might need if one was looking for one's crew-member who was somewhere in the depths of the ship. He was wearing a tool-belt which held a rubber hammer, a twirly plastic drinking straw, a bar of primrose-scented soap, a pair of sunglasses (one lens missing, the other cracked) and a can of silly string.

Tim raised one of his eyebrows and took a large bite out of his cucumber, mustard and 100's & 1000's sandwich. "What about FOOD?" he spluttered, trying not to choke on those lethal coloured balls.

"Oh, that's taken care of!" Richard smiled brightly and began to number off items on his fingers. "I've got 4 apples, some fairy bread, the left over salmon liver pate from our dinner party-"

"Hey hey hey, how are you going to fit all of that stuff in your Yogi Bear lunchbox?"

"Well, I'm not. That's why I'm borrowing yours!" Richard held aloft a brightly coloured plastic box. Tim's brows knitted into a dark line, and eyed his ship-mate dubiously. After all, his Sailor Moon lunchbox had been given to him by his favourite cousin, Valmai. He began to get up.

"Now just a minute Richard, I-"

"Don't worry Tim," Richard tutted and gently pushed Tim back in his seat. "I'll take good care of it" Rich put his hand on Tim's shoulder. "I know how much it means to you. Alright, I'm off to find Paul! Wish me luck?"

"Rich..." Tim spoke quietly

"Yes, Tim?" Richard bent down eagerly to hear what words Tim wished to impart upon him.

"What have I told you about touching me?"

****************
 
Richard must have been down there about 8 hrs (including the time it took for him to have his Main Nap and his Mid-Afternoon Snooze) before he discovered the strange, long box.

He had been walking along a corridor located on level 6, whistling 'I've got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts', when he tripped over an uneven plate in the floor and stubbed his toe. Dropping the lunchbox, he began hopping about cursing, the sound of his booted foot echoing loudly.

Richard finally stopped hopping around when he realised that he hadn't really hurt his toe at all because of the thickness of his boot. But the sound of Richard's footfalls kept reverberating through the corridor. The fact that he had stopped jumping around and the sound hadn't did worry him slightly. He picked up Tim's lunchbox and hesitantly addressed his belated echo.

"Hello?"

No answer.

Rich smiled weakly, and decided to continue walking. The noises did not persist. After trudging on for about 2 mins, he felt the need to rest against the wall. Suddenly, a hairy, purple 7-legged beast with the face of Barry Humphries appeared on the wall above Richard's head. He shrieked, grabbed his rubber mallet and started pounding the wall where it had appeared.

The Barry Humphries beast was nowhere to be seen, but that strange belated echo from the mallet had started again

Richard ran the events that had just happened through his head.
Ate all of his food.....
Stubbed toe.....
Heard strange thumping.....
Saw psychedelic paranoia-induced fantasy creature (probably brought on by eating all his food in the one go)......
Heard strange thumping in answer to his hammering the wall in an attempt to kill the aforesaid monster.....

"Hmmmm....." watching Richard think was like watching an old rusty plough trying to cut its way through a field of concrete.

Experimenting, he took his mallet and slowly banged it against the wall twice.

'thump...thump...' came the faint reply.

"Aha!" Richard beamed at his discovery. It didn't occur to him at the time that he had NO IDEA who or what was making those noises.

'thump...thump...thump...' went Richard.

'thump...thump...thump...'' came the reply.

Richard began to walk towards the source of the sound.

"Paul? Is that you?"

'thump...thump...' went Richard.

'thump...thump...' came the reply.

He turned the corner and found himself in the entrance of a very small room. Wasn't much to it, really, just some pipes, tools, large metal box, air vent, big wooden- large metal box?

Rich quickly surveyed the area for any acid-spitting mutant monster with 3 arms from Uranus.

"Nope, none of them," he breathed a sigh of relief "besides, everybody knows that aliens from Uranus don't spit acid!"

There didn't seem to be anything special about the room at all, except that it hadn't been there 5 weeks ago when the boys had been on this level searching for a suitable place to host their indoor-outdoor beach volleyball and swimsuit competition.

At the memory, Richard's bottom lip began to quiver, and his vision suddenly got a little blurry. He would have won that competition if Timothy hadn't cheated.
"S'not fair! Paul waxed his bikini like for him - and he was the judge!"
Richard thumped the doorframe in a fit of anger.

'thump..' came the reply from inside the room.

Richard nearly jumped out of his skin, having forgotten what had brought him to the room in the first place. The only place it could be coming from was.......

He slowly walked over to the metal box. Deciding to try one more time, he rapped his knuckles on the lid
'rat rat-a-tat tat..'

'tat tat' came the reply

A stupid grin alighted Richard's face. A look of mock-severity replaced it.
"Paul, if this is some kink of joke, it's not fu-"

The words wanted to come out, but they got stuck in his throat and didn't move.

A gloved hand emerging from a frilly sleeve reached out of the box, presumably to aid the rest of its as-yet-unseen body into view.

Rich did the most sensible thing he could think of (in fact, the only thing he could think of) to do.

He dropped the lunchbox, and ran screaming back the way he came.
 
 
PART 4
 
 
The sound of Richard's frantic running around and screaming got closer and closer, and started to invade Tim's dream involving him, a tub of yogurt and the tv weather girl from ch 27. Sticking his fingers in his ears to try and block out Richard didn't work, because he got louder, and louder, and louder.....

Finally, Tim sat up in annoyance and realised God had finally played the cruelest trick imaginable by never allowing him to look on his beatific visage again - he had been struck blind.

Actually, he had just forgotten to lift up his eye-mask.

Richard screeched around the corner, little sparks flying from his boots (which was odd, because he had rubber soles) and tore into Tim's room. Tim was sitting on his bed waiting, the eye-mask on his head, with a look that could have skinned Richard alive on his face.

"Tim......" Rich doubled over, leaning on his knees in an attempt to get oxygen back into his body. Tim was ready to kill

"Rich....." Tim answered, his voice frighteningly quiet. "I was having my beauty sleep. Can you possibly comprehend what that means?" Tim thought about that for a moment. "No, I suppose not. What is your problem NOW?"

"A-a-alien...." gasped Richard.

This was hardly a good reason for waking up Tim. He placed his thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose and squeeeeeeeeezed. "Rich, calm down and tell me what happened". He put his hand on Rich's shoulder and led him out into the room with the table and chairs. Richard sat down meekly and began to relate recent events.

Tim seemed to be following him until he got to the part about the box and the hand.

"WHAT?!" Time shrieked and got up out of his own chair so quickly he tipped it over.

"I know, I hardly believed it myself, so I just ran"

"YOU DROPPED MY LUNCHBOX?!" Tim sat down abruptly again, leant elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands. "...this is not happening...this is NOT happening.." He started to rock back and forth. Rich looked downcast.

"I'm sorry Tim, it's just that ther was an alien, and...well, I was frightened..." Tim got up, walked over to Richard and started knocking on his head.

"Rich, is mummy home? Put mummy on the phone, Richard, put mummy on the phone!"

"Alright, alright!" Richard broke away, rubbing his head. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, that part's quite obvious. You," he pointed an accusing finger at Richard "are going back down there because YOU left my lunchbox with a figment of your imagination, or I'll give you a swift kick in the-"

"...B-but, but, but..."

"Exactly!" Tim folded his arms with a look of supreme arrogance on his face, his lips curled in a beautiful sneer of derision.

Rich wanted to argue, he really did.
But one look at Tim's face told him he'd be better off with the alien.

Rich sighed. "Do I have to?"

"Yes. And just to make sure you do go, I'm going with you"

"Well, then I won't be going by myself, will I?" Tim looked confused for a moment.

"Don't try and trick me with your back-talk! You're going!"

"But you're going as well!"

"Precisely!" Tim plastered a self-satisfied smile on his face. It sounded like he had won that round, so why did it feel like he had lost?

He ran the exchange back through his mind on the trek down to level 6.

"Rich said....and then I said.....and so HE said......hmmm......oh well, no matter. Where did you see the pesky li'l space varmint?"

"In the same corridor on level 6 where we had the competitions a couple of weeks ago..." Again at the thought, Rich started to get cross "....s'not fair, you cheated!" he added under his breath.

"Ayayayayayayay! I won that competition fair and square because I can walk the catwalk better in high heels than you can!" He raised his eyebrows in the memory "Funny that...."

Richard and Tim turned the corner arguing about how to walk in high heels properly, when they ran headlong into Richard's alien.

He was a little fellow. Short, pasty-faced with a head like the cue ball on a snooker table. Long stalks of hair (?) protruded from the back of his skull, while one strand made a lovely circular design on his brow.

"Well," whispered Tim to Richard, looking at the strange circular design on the alien's head "at least we know who left cropcircles on Earth"

Rich just stood there, slack-jawed. But he had to admit that the alien wasn't nearly as scary as he thought. Looked quite cute, actually. With this in mind, he decided to create a friendly impression. He smiled charmingly, stepped forward and held out his hand. The alien smiled back and held out his own gloved hand.

But just as Richard was about to make first contact, Tim interposed and shook the alien's hand. The alien smiled and jabbered away excitedly. Tim seemed pleased with his discovery and knew this was a momentous occasion in history.

Tim put his arm around the alien's shoulders and began to walk . He could see it all now.
"I can see it all now," Tim said "I'll teach you how to dress properly, and shave....you'll be like like the son I never wanted!" Not to be left out, Richard piped up
"I'll teach him how to read, and write, and speak, and-"
"Yeah yeah, whatever Rich...but just think - we now have an alien - fame....lights....stardom....anorexia nervosa....leotards!"

Tim continued to relay his grandiose plans, while Richard listened attentively and nodded along.

The actual alien, temporarily forgotten, looked from Tim to Rich, and then looked straight ahead, his dark lips curled up in a knowing smile, one eyebrow raising itself above his sparkling eyes as they made their way back to the main habitation deck of the Titanic II.
 
 
PART 5
 
 
Over the course of the next week, Tim and Richard spent much of their time teaching Emilio Che` Guevera Heavenly Hiraani Courteney The Edge Fellatio Ferguson-Fidler.
This was the name they had decided on after many hours of heated discussion. Even after they had reached this compromise, Tim was still puzzled as to some parts of this name.
"Why is he called Courteney again?"
"Well, we think he's a he, but we could be wrong. If he isn't a he, and he's actually a she, he (or she) won't be emotionally scarred by having an entirely masculine name!" Rich smiled brightly. Tim stared at him for a full 15 seconds.
"Fair enough"
But they both agreed to call him (or her) Che`.

Che` was a funny little fellow. He didn't eat much. Rich tried to feed him fresh fruits, vegetables, meat etc, but all he ever seemed to want to eat were marshmallows.

At any rate, it was decided that Tim would take on the speaking aspect of Che`'s learning, while Rich would cover writing.

Then, after Tim had a bit of trouble with getting words in the right order, it was decided Rich would take on the speaking aspect, and Tim would cover writing.

Rich spent patient hours with Che`, trying to teach him the fine art of speaking english. But first, he'd teach Che` to say 'Richard'. But the little bald alien seemed unwilling to speak anything other than its native gibberish. That did not deter him.
"Come on, you can say it! Rich......it's really easy!" Richard tried to coax Che`.
"...rrr.....rrrrri..." Richard began to get excited.
"You're almost there, Che`!" He began to jump up and down.
"...r...rrrd....ddi......dick...dick!" Che` grinned happily. Richard looked dismayed.
"Not quite, Che`, it's 'Rich'" Che` took no notice whatsoever, too pleased with his success.
"..Dick.....dick...dickdickdickdick...!" Rich groaned and put his head in his hands. Tim walked in and found Richard sitting on the floor rubbing his temples, and Che` running around excitedly saying 'dick' in a variety of silly voices. Tim beamed.
"That's amazing! You guys are finally on a first-name basis!"

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

Rich gave up on Che` speaking english after this. Tim then decided to cover writing. This was all well and good, but when the first word he taught Che` was 'Tim', followed by 'is' followed by 'a', he really should have expected trouble.

Richard was sitting reading his favourite comic book when Tim stormed out of his room, his face flushed in anger.
"What's wrong with you?"
Tim waited until his face and changed back to its normal colour before he answered through clenched teeth.
"Look what that retarded alien of yours did to my room!"
Rich looked confused as he was dragged along by his collar through the hatch door and into Tim's room.

In red lipstick scrawled all over Tim's vanity case, condiments and mirror (and punctuated by drawings of little skulls) was the immortal phrase 'Tim is a big girl's blouse'. Richard was aghast (but inside he was laughing uncontrollably).
"....golly...." was all he managed to say after a few minutes without cracking a smile "Where did he get lipstick from?"
"Uh...that's not important right now....what is important is that he's out of control! Probably got the lipstick from Paul's room anyway..."
"I think you're over-reacting! Besides..." he added "...it's not Paul's colour....where is he now?"
"He was sitting right ther-"

Che` was gone.

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

By the time Richard and Tim had located Che`, they'd had time to think (or in Tim's case, pretended to think) about the situation. It seemed that Che` was displaying random malicious and cruel behaviour. The graffiti incident wasn't the first.

The day before, Che` had got into Richard's room and belligerently pulled at his bedspread, so one side was shorter than the other. The day before he had switched Tim's toothpaste with contraceptive jelly, and the day before THAT he had spiked the water supply with caffeine. Tim and Rich hadn't actually slept in over 72 hrs.

All these things were playing on their minds when they finally recaptured Che` where they had first found him - level 6. He was leaning up against a wall, roaring with laughter. Che` looked up as they approached and wiped a tear from his eye.

"...you guys are sooooooo stupid..." Che` said between gasps for air. Tim and Rich stopped in their tracks.
"Y-y-you can talk?" Richard asked tentatively. Che` looked unbelievingly at him, and doubled over laughing again. He put his hands up to his bald pate and started scratching at his brow line. After a moment of this, a line began to appear around his head, which he started to peel back to reveal....

"PAUL!" The second skin, once peeled back revealed a familiar crop of short, dark hair.
Paul giggled insanely. Tim closed his open mouth.
"You bastard! What did you do that for?!"
"Do I need a reason? I wanted to!" Rich started to stammer.
"B-bu-bu-but how did you know I was going to be on level 6? And how did you know about that room in the back?
"Rich, Rich, Rich....I knew you were going to find me on level 6 because everything with you is 6!" Richard looked troubled.
"Hay?" Paul sighed.
"What's your favourite number? 6. How many strings on your guitar? 6.." Richard interjected.
"Actually, my guitar has 12 stri-"
"..don't interrupt me, Rich, I'm going somewhere with this. How many toes on your left foot? 6. What's the combination to the secret safe in your room? 666...." he raised his eyebrow at that one "Funny that...the point being, that I knew you'd make it to level 6 sooner or later to find me...and about the room, I found it by accident during the swimsuit competition. C'mere, I'll show ya!"

They followed Paul, still silently shaking from involuntary laughter to the door of the hidden room.
"See? Nothing in here" and to prove his point, he rapped on the door frame.

'thump...thump..'

'thump...thump..' came the reply.

Paul's smug smile fell from his face as if somebody had sliced the strings holding his cheeks up in the grin. He entered the room cautiously, muttering something along the lines of "...this can't be right....no...." He walked into the room with Tim and Rich following in mute anticipation.

By the time he had gotten to the metal box, a fine film of sweat had formed on his upper lip.
"...this shouldn't... be....uh..-" The words wanted to come out, but they got stuck in his throat and didn't move.

A gloved hand emerging from a frilly sleeve reached out of the box, presumably to aid the rest of its as-yet-unseen body into view.

Paul did the most sensible thing he could think of (in fact, the only thing he could think of) to do.

"....oh christ..." was all he managed to say before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he collapsed onto the unconscious bodies of his crewmates.

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

(just imagine that funky DAAS Kapital music playing as I roll the credits)

Thanks to Twinkle most of all for just being my best friend and everything (and for patiently sitting on the other end of the phone while I tried to explain just enough of the plot, but not too much so I gave the ending away - you rock, baby doll!)

then to my other supporting cast consisting of :

skeeter (my inspiration to begin with, and thanks for posting this crap on your webpage!!)

solo (from the bottom of my blue/grey eyed heart, thanks for the continual pressure - but it still doesn't have a name!)

gg (thanks for the icq proof sesh's and support)

jenny (*BSTHT* buddy! bribery and corruption of writing will get you EVERYWHERE!! thankyou)

steve (you almost got a real big thankyou, but because you hounded me about posting it tonight, stuff ya! no, kidding. Thanks for taking the time out to read before I had the nerve to post)

You guys haven't left me alone since i started, and despite me complaining bitterly, I'm glad, otherwise I probably wouldn't have finished it.
 
 

That's all. Thanks for reading. And if this is the first time you've ever read anything i've written, you're going to hell, i can guarantee it. (was that too harsh, twinkle? ;)