Futurama

Time and Punishment, Part 2
By Nostradamus

Time and Punishment II: The N-gene of Destruction

as foretold by Nostradamus on 7. III 2004. a.d. after way too much coffee and the prequel

Long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...nothing interesting happened, so let's focus on our own galaxy, not so long ago.

A great dark room. Not that lightbulbs weren't invented yet, simply no one in the room needed light do see. Most of one of the four walls was covered by a large plasma screen. In the faint blue gleam the device radiated, a tall, dark silouethe was standing. Other shadows could be seen faintly, standing or moving in the darkness.

"My lord."

"Proceed."

"The gene pool database scan is complete. We have 23763 acceptable hits and 13 highly acceptable hits.''

''Preview. List the highly acceptables."

"Subject 1. Subject 2. Subject 3. Subject 4. Subject..."

''Hold listing." Impossible. It was she! He could never forget that face, not in a thousand years.

The tall shadow turned. His visual sets emitted a cold blue gleam as he spoke.

''Number One. Assemble a minor task force. Retrieve subject 4 alive and undamaged. Proceed."

One of the shadows advanced into the faint gleam.

"My lord. Computer projections show that subjects 2 and 9 have almost 1% more desirable DNA configurations."

''I am interested in subject 4 in several levels. And she still has a 98.76% match. Now go."

"I will do as you command, my lord."

"I know."

The tall shadow turned back towards the screen.

A slim, elegant corvette left Earth's perimeter control zone unnoticed and assumed course for Proxima Centauri.

AUTOPILOT ON. COURSE LOCKED. ETA 12 MINUTES 3 SECONDS.

The craft's pilot played a short final drumrole on his panel and turned to his passengers, who were making quite a noise ever since they got onboard.

"Monster!"

"Amateur!"

''Are we there yet?"

"Oh shut up already!" he yelled. Everyone actually did shut up.

Professor Farnsworth lost his patience (not that he ever had much). "Who the hell are you, and where the hell are you taking us, and where the hell is toilet in this hell-forged hellship!?"

The black knight changed his facial expression into something similar to mocking hospitality (His helmet was a face concealing one and he never took it off, but his ocular gleam often changed to simulate an expression. And they somehow felt as if he was grinning all the time.).

''Tsk, tsk, tsk, what an eloquence, my good sir! Please notice that you are in a somewhat restrained situation, abducted if you wish, and that we are in a strike-craft rather than a seven stars hotel."

"That didn't answer my other hell questions!"

"Ah yes, the hospitality." He stood up and bowed. "I am T1, series 0 cyborg type 3, currently acting as personal valet, deputy, science and military commander of the Dark Lord of Ares IV. That's where we are going. You may call me Number One."

Leela sniffed. "You are lying. We are going towards Alpha Centauri. And this is a corvette class vessel. Ares IV is out of your range."

Number One turned to her. "So! Our little mutant has some experience with space flight. I didn't know they let you freaks out of the sewer."

Leela did the most aggressive movement you can do with your arms and legs tied, wrathful enough to try to bite through his armor. He laughed at her and turned back to his control panel.

"We are not going to Ares IV in this space dinky, if that's your point. As soon as we exit the local singularity, we will hyperspace to a rendezvous point with his majesty's battlecruiser."

Now professor Farnsworth laughed. ''Hyperspace!? Now THAT's impossible!"

"Impossible? Yes." Number One played another short cadenza and pulled a large lever next to his seat. ''But it still works."

Space shook around them.

Lights flashed red. Number One was busy untying Fry's hands, while other tried to remain on their feet. Ship rocked violently. The view port gave them a nice zooming image of an unknown planet.

''You said hyperspace works!!!"

''It does!!! I never mentioned that hyperdrives do!"

He climbed (or fell) back into his seat.

''Hmm. Engines dead, hyperdrive dead, controls dead, backup hamster dead ... looks like a dead-end. A deadly one."

"Stop saying dead so often!!!"

Bender was at the door. "Abandon ship!!!"

Leela and Zoidberg were at Bender.

Number One pushed a large yellow button.

'"Hold your..."

"...bellies."

The ship wasn't moving.

Everyone screamed "Abandon ship!!!"

''Too late," Zoidberg said.

The PE crew was sitting in the center of a small forest clearing made by the crashed fighter, watching Number One (with mixed feeling of disgust and joy) as he tried to clean his cloak. Finally, he threw it down and turned. ''Stupid stasis effect... and you all really had to throw up on me."

Leela certainly enjoyed the moment to the max. "After your little speech, you revealed yourself as a great target."

"Ha! That from a person with only one eye."

"So!? I wonder what YOU are trying to hide under that helmet."

The black knight hesitated.

"Nothing." He took off his helmet. Leela and Fry fell from their trunks.

Professor Crane's face grinned at them. "Unpleasant memories?"

''You! But I saw you a thousand years ago!"

"No, you didn't. You saw professor Maximilian Crane. I am, as I said, T1, a series 0 cyborg. However, my neural and facial blueprints were derived from professor's own DNA. About 700 years ago."

Farsworth woke up at this. "That's preposterous! We're still experimenting with I/O interface now in XXXI century!"

"So you are. And WE're developing it. Master owns several research centers through the galaxy."

Fry emerged from behind his trunk, holding a chocolate bar he found in his pocket. Number One snatched it from his hand and gave it to Leela.

"Hey! What was that for? I was going to share it with her, honestly!"

Number One went towards the wreckage. "Your own intentions are irrelevant. I was ordered to bring HER alive and undamaged. If I fail to procure food and water you others will have to go."

Leela frowned, looking after him as he walked away. Then she gave the candy back to Fry, and picked up a stick she has been sharpening. "No one's starving if I can do anything about it. Tell the tin-terrorist I'm off to hunt."

Leela soon found out that they crashed into a vast forest. As she climbed one of several ridges that probably belonged to distant mountains, faintly visible in the distance, she thought about all that happened to her in the last 24 hours. Fry's little show, her own monstrous time travel adventure, and now she was on an unknown planet somewhere in the universe together with most incompetent bunch of people she could think of, hunting for food with a pointed stick. And there's that Number One. Is he really a cyborg, or the professor himself, coming from the past for some unknown purpose? "However impossible it might seem, if he's not lying I think I know who his Lord is." She shuddered. The last thing she needed today is to look into those cold eyes again. "Go on, Turanga, go on!" she said out loud. "If you don't catch anything before the adrenaline surge fades, you're simply going to drop somewhere and ... is that a deer!?"

It certainly did look like a deer. Leela prowled between trees and bushes, keeping herself down the wind, coming closer ... and closer ... and closer ... and close enough! She swung her spear. Number One appeared behind her with a great rifle, aimed and fired. The deer thing fell dead. He helped Leela up.

"First. Do not wander away from the camp. Second. If I can't hunt down anything, you certainly can't. And third. Since you're not going to listen, try to be careful. That thing was a Sathrian guts-eating raindeer. A lightning-fast carnivore, mind you. Getting yourself killed won't help anyone."

She pushed his hand away. "What do you care? I'm an ugly mutant and you're the Great White Hunter."

"And what do you care? If I'm not the professor himself then I'm certainly his servant. Insulting others is simply a part of the job."

"That's certainly the dumbest thing I have ever heard."

"And you ARE a mutant. If you find yourself offended by that, go find another one of these horny buggers." He kicked the raindeer.

"I AM a mutant! I'm not offended by that! But me being a mutant gives you no right to treat me like a lesser lifeform!"

"I suppose ... you're right. At least, you proved to be much more capable than the "regulars" back in the camp."

Leela looked at him carefully. "What's with the tone change?"

"What tone change? I perceive that inside your defective shell lives a person I'd like to know better. But I am ordered to bring you to Ares IV and you are still my prisoner. Get going."

Number One picked up the animal and went towards the camp. Leela went after him without a word.

Planet Express team had to reorganize thoroughly in order to survive this new crisis. In order to exactly describe complex new relations within the group, let us compare it with a primitive community. At first, everyone was equal. But very soon, Number One and Leela became a higher class, since others were completely dependant on them (Actually, Number One only charged Leela to look after others if he is away, but she still had her pointed stick.). After it became apparent that the ship's radio is only lightly damaged, the professor and his right hand and denture-keeper Amy stepped forward too. Everyone respected them, since professor was the only person to whom the gods up there might speak (since he was the only one who knew how to repair the damned transmitter). In a desperate attempt to cover some ground, Bender proclaimed himself a slavemaster and enslaved Fry and Zoidberg. So, while the king and military protected the borders and waged wars, and priests prayed to the gods in the temple, slaves worked to get a fire going and prepare food.

Number One stood in the middle of the camp watching the others working, lashing other others or sitting and sharpening sticks. "Fascinating," he said. "And we only crashed forty minutes ago."

As darknes thickened behind surounding trees, everyone gathered around the fire. Professor Farnsworth absently sucked his fruit, murmuring inaudibly from time to time. Amy was cleaning his nuclear-powered teeth, silent and thoughtfull. Bender was threatening Fry and Zoidberg with utmost agony if they try to escape. Zoidberg sprayed Bender with ink and woobed away, while Fry hid behind Leela.

Fry was seriously concerned about Number One's motives. He WAS evil, that's for sure. I mean, he was dressed all in black and was on good relations with Bender. But ever since he went after Leela today, she has been silent. She WATCHED him. She watched him even now, as he stood guard on the edge of the light. "I don't remember she was ever after me like that! He must have done something to her, something bad." Fry's eyes narrowed. There is a dark and sinister conspiracy afoot, and he's going to uncl... unacl... uclo... solve the mystery and save Leela from this villain.

Suddenly Leela spoke. "Why Professor Crane wishes me on Ares IV?"

''So that he can take your DNA sample and use it to produce a vacc... now that was underhanded."

Number One turned around and stepped forward, towering over Leela. His eyes gave out a cruel cold flash as he stretched his hand, gripped her neck and lifted her with terrible ease.

"If you try something like that again I will... I will..."

He paused, confused, looking at her. Suddenly he put her down.

"We need to talk."

Leela looked at Number One suspiciously. Despite the fact that ten minutes ago he almost choked her to death there by the fire, and could probably just come over and finish the task, she felt as if she could trust him. At least, he said he must bring her to Crane "alive and undamaged". Leela sighed. She had very little to lose, right now.

"So, what was so important to prevent you from killing me?"

"Apart from the fact that I never lost control over myself like this, that I never broke a direct order, and that I am very confused about you?"

"Great," she thought. "We're stuck here with a psychotic killing machine."

Number One grinned.

"I am not psychotic, but I am a psychic. No... it's simply ... that I ... " he sighed. "I feel desire to make you happy, or at least to help you be less unhappy. But you are a mutant, an abomination of human DNA. So I am confused with myself and this internal conflict induces completely wrong behavior. Mutants are enemies, you are a mutant but I don't see you as an enemy. I don't know what is happening."

Leela was completely taken back by this confession. Is he... is he in love with her!? A seven centuries old evil cyborg? She recalled the image of Zapp Brannigan. "Well, I've had worse..."

Number One looked at her. "Let's not go nuts. I am positively not in love with you. That requires glands and some brain sections I never had." He started pacing up and down. "This is irrational! I hate irrational things! And that's also irrational!"

Leela sighed, relieved. She never thought herself a good counselor. That's one of the better reasons she had to train in martial arts. "Friendship?" she suggested.

Number One slowed his pace. "Friendship. Now that's a new one. Disgustingly irrational, but ... stupid enough to work..."

Leela almost felt sorry for bringing this one out. She still was good counselor enough to be distrustful of people who might say "Hmmm" when introduced to an emotion.

He stopped and looked upon her. "Hmmm."

Early tomorrow, Number One rose them from slumber. Three other cyborgs, looking exactly the same (probably, but their helmets were simpler than Number One's) busied themselves on the wreckage, while at least thirty military bots decorated the perimeter.

"Scavenge your stuff. Dropship is due in 7 minutes, if the computer doesn't lock up."

It didn't.

Ares IV grew before them, red and arid. But the Planet Express crew wasn't looking at the planet.

Amy was standing next to the great shielded window of the bridge. She was pretty sure this was the end of their voyage, but she couldn't help being awed by the magnitude of the space station.

It was built in a form of a star, with docked ships bigger than life and shipyards, weapon platforms and shield generators mixed together into a confusing but obviously well organized system. In the center of the star was "erected" a tall, castle-like structure, with smaller docking ports and defense towers rising out of it or integrated into steep, black walls. In a stereotypical manner, everything seemed to be inspired by the Gothic architecture and too much money.

Leela stood next to Amy, holding her hand. She felt alone again, and she hated that feeling so much. The view didn't comfort her a bit. If she ever thought about escaping, her last chance was wasted as soon as they hyperspaced into the system. Turret upon turret upon turret, all loaded with fusion lasers, neutron blasters and ion cannons. There were also many other things she couldn't recognize, but by their look she could tell they were supposed to fire things very often and hit very hard. And it wasn't "his majesty's battlecruiser'', it was "one of his majesty's many battlecruisers". A fleet large enough to blast a small planet was moored or moving all around them.

After what seemed an eternity, the vessel docked into an unoccupied landing gear. There was a distant clang, and ship's engines shut down.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my master's humble home. I hope he isn't cooking anything especially nasty to greet you."

That was Number One. With his black armor polished and his new black and silver cloak, he looked and moved like a royal galleon. He came over and bowed. His helmet was on again, but the crew didn't feel as if he was smiling. There was certainly something afoot.

"This way, please."

"At least you've got maglev's. I thought there weren't maglev's in the middle ages," said Fry as they stepped out of the tube into an opulent, long hall and walked towards the great arched door.

"There weren't maglev's in the middle ages. Nor ion blasters. Nor hot-dogs. Nor toilet paper. And we're not in the middle ages either. Now shut up."

"That was Mister Fry, I presume."

They froze as if splashed with liquid ammonia. Fry was as white (or more) as Leela was. It was that cold, clear voice that spoke to her, as those cold, clear eyes held her gaze. Now cruelly powerful. Multiplied to pain. If they had that voice read Sauron's lines, people would have run away from the cinema.

They were in a great, dark room, so vast that walls were lost in darkness. Many pale, blue eyes glowed as the shadows stood or moved in light of their consoles. But in the center of the room, lighted by a faint glow of the plasma screen that spread across the far wall, only one shadow stood. Tall and threatening. Two bright blue, cold eyes looked at them.

Leela assumed her "No! Take me instead!" position and opened her mouth, but the shadow rose it's hand.

"Spare me. You ARE the only one I am interested here. Except ... Mister Fry. Though it is completely irrelevant right now, it might interest you to know that you failed your exam."

Fry was relieved. "Blah. Life goes on."

"That's relative. But right now, before I decide what to do with you, let me reveal you the details of my sinister plot. Does "tetrathorium chloride 7" mean anything to you?"

Professor Farnsworth woke up. "Ah, whaa a? Tet... oh yes. That was the most stupid pesticide ever made. It was horribly expensive, did nothing and caused DNA mutations."

"Exactly. And here," he pointed in Leela's direction, "we have the other, crucial piece of my plan."

Leela looked back at him, shocked. "What the hell was that supposed to mean!?"

"Your DNA, darling. Your DNA replication complexes, precisely. You are amongst handful other lucky mutants that have the "N-factor", DNA polymerasis 3-N. For you, it only means that you can be a safe organ donor and have normal children. But for me ... it means I can use your DNA to synthesize a vaccine that will "cure" mutations permanently."

Leela's eye filled with tears. "That was ... the most beautiful thing any Dark Lord ever said to me. But why didn't you tell me you were after such a good cause!?"

Professor Crane chuckled. "Let's not jump into conclusions. You see, shortly after my vaccine is finished, a young, disgruntled mutant girl, driven mad by society's cruelty, stole her employer's spaceship and sprayed massive amounts of TTC7 into Earth's atmosphere, causing DNA degeneration worldwide. Luckily, my own fleet was passing by, saw what happened, and offered cure and the terrorist's dead body to Earth's authorities. At very reasonable price, given the situation. And they will pay."

He leaned towards Leela. "How many adequate mutants can you think of?"

Leela stood there, terrified. "You...monster."

Crane laughed. "Mwahahahaha! That's the spirit! Watching your ugly face grow long was almost vengeance enough. But I will not stop. I will break you, destroy you, and dance on your nameless grave."

Fry suddenly jumped in front of Leela and raised his fist towards Crane (probably unaware of the comical aspect since Crane was over two meters tall). "Listen you nerd king! I won't pretend I understand at least half of what you sad, though I'm not quite sure I understood the other half either, but if you try to hurt her in any way..."

"Love," Crane snorted. "Love is made of lies. Let me tell you what drives you exactly." This was getting better and better. Life is good today.

"Fry, you love Leela."

"Damn right I do, I just can't..."

"Shut up. Tell me, do you love her for being what she is, because you love her the way she is or because you know that if she ever was normal, you could have no chance with her at all?"

Fry was silent. Leela looked at him.

"And you, Leela. You actually only care for this loser because he is always there for you, to tell you you're not a despicable psychotic abomination, but a beautiful flower of womanhood. You love his lies."

Fry kicked Crane's leg. "Your words are poison! I love her and I always will, until..."

"...death takes you apart?" finished Crane.

Fry groaned, bent over and fell down. Crane held up a sword, soaked with blood.

"Fry, no!" Leela was on her knees, shaking Fry's body hysterically. He wasn't moving. She hugged him, as strong as she could. "FRY! Wake up, please wake up!" She wept. "Please... wake up..."

"He isn't waking up, stupid girl. And you will soon find him lucky. Number One. Take her down for extraction. Kill the others."

Number One drew his sword. "I will NOT do as you command, my lord."

Crane slowly turned towards him. "WHAT!?"

Number One drew his gun and aimed. "I resign."

Crane laughed and raised his hands. Blast of channeled plasma sent Number One through the door. He fell down and didn't move.

"That's for the traitor. And now... guards. Seize them. But let them watch." He turned back towards Leela. She was still hugging Fry's corpse, crying and trembling. He grabbed her ponytail and drew her head back, so that she could see his sword, stained with red.

"Your boyfriend's blood. Do you like it? Don't worry - it will soon be mingled with yours."

Leela looked. She was sitting with Fry. Fry was talking nonsense to her, but she liked to be with him. He gave her a flower. He tried to tell a poem, but bit his tongue instead. The boat he rented had a hole, and she had to rescue him. Yet he was smiling to her, warmly, and that was enough. He loved her. Leela looked again. Fry's eyes stared through her, empty and dead. She grabbed the first thing her fingers touched. Number One's sword.

She leapt up with cry of anger and pain. Hit him, hurt him, kill the beast! His defense was down. She drove the sword under his breastplate, through soft electronics and power core. She pushed as hard as she could. Up to the hilt.

Crane gave out a terrible cry, filled with surprise and hate, and fell down like a mountain. Leela was still on him, trying to push the sword in, just one inch more. She felt someone's hand on her shoulder. It was Number One, with Fry's body over his shoulder. Fry smiled to her weakly. She almost fell down with surprise, but Number One pulled her hand.

"Easy. Good girl. Now run!"

She followed him. As they charged out of the room, Number One gave several commands to nearby shadows. "Computer. Initiate self-destruct sequence. Level 12 authorization omega-red-A1-B7-L0! Run functions 377 and 377b! Execute. Good. That should deal with it."

They run down the corridor while red lights flashed.

Number One rushed through the armory door and sealed them off. Others were already gathered around Leela and Fry.

"That was so cute. And so romantic!"

"But it wasn't boring!"

"Yea! The most dramatic slaughter I've ever seen! For free, that is."

"Don't worry. If he died, you'd still have Zoidberg. You'd all still have Zoidberg!"

But Leela was simply content on feeling Fry's heart beat next to her own. "Fry. You crouton."

Number One gently pushed her aside. He held several vials with luminous green liquid. "Step aside, lassie. He's not stabilized yet." He removed Fry's jacket and his blood-soaked shirt. Some of his ribs were broken, and on the left side of his chest opened a terrible wound. Number One studied it thoroughly.

"Well well. This will require all my skill." Then he took one of the vials and poured it's content over Fry's wound. The fluid gleamed brightly for a moment, and disappeared. The wound was closed and healed. "There. As most problems in life, death can be solved with nanites."

Fry sat up with a painful grimace, but looking more or less alive. Leela hugged him gently once more and then turned to Number One.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Risk your own life for me? And for him?"

"Zoooidbeeerg..."

Number One ignored him. "As I watched you, suddenly I thought: She shouldn't die like this, so fair and desperate! Or at least she shouldn't die alone."

Leela looked at him kindly.

He grinned. "The real reason, however, is that I planned to bring the old monster down for a long time, and your inspired show created a great diversion."

Leela frowned. "That's really a bad sense of humor, you old can." Her gaze fell on Fry. He was chatting with Bender as if nothing happened. He noticed her attention and smiled. She smiled back, feeling her anger passing.

"I ... I still owe you so much. How could I ever repay you?"

"Wink. I want to see that." He laughed at her surprised face. "Seriously, don't thank me yet. We have only a couple more minutes until backup systems are on-line. And we have to fight our way down to the docks."

"But I killed the bastard! Who is organizing the defenses, and why!?"

Number One was busy sorting guns and ammo. "One doesn't simply walk in and kill the professor." He turned to her, pointing to his own breastplate. "Intact. It was gaping wide ten minutes ago. And I'm a beta version. Professor Crane always keeps newest gadgets for himself. I wouldn't be surprise if he is waiting for us outside."

He raised his voice so that everyone could hear him. "Ladies and gentlemen, listen up. It isn't over yet. I'm pretty sure Crane has stopped the self-destruct script by now, and is organizing his own forces to combat troops under my control. We will have to fight our way to Dock 7, where your Planet Express ship is moored. Get a Personal shielding and a rifle. Bender, you and I will take the heavier stuff. Come here."

Everyone picked up their arms (Bender also picked up many other things), and after reaching a consensus on which end goes towards the target, they lined next to the door. Bender emerged from the weapons depot, holding what looked like Armageddon's bigger brother. "Let's rock."

"Left flank! Left flank!"

Leela run up to professor Farnsworth and drew him down just before a tachyon ray burst the crate behind them. Amy has broken her rifle, and Zoidberg had swallowed Fry's ammo. Bender was having too much fun to pay any attention to her. She crawled back to Number One, who was busy inflicting nuclear physics on incoming robots.

He paused shooting for a moment. "How do you like the show!!!"

"I don't!!!"

"Don't worry!!! It will soon go quiet!!!"

A bay door behind them opened, and a great walker follower by several robots rushed through. The walker stopped and started sowing death and destruction so efficiently that even Bender enjoyed watching. It did go quiet very soon.

Walker went down the hallway, happily kicking the debris. More robots came through the door and rushed after it. After them rushed several cyborgs. One of them gave a brief report to Number One before proceeding. Number One seemed satisfied.

"Everything is happening according to plan. I like that."

Fry crawled from behind the door, fingering his nose. "I don't. How far do we have to go?"

"Down the hallway, then down the maintenance elevator, make a little detour to bypass Junction 4, and there we are. The problem is, that we won't have any support. Have I deployed reinforcements, Crane could have predicted our escape route. Get yourself as much ammo as you can take. And put on a cevlar vest; that red jacket of yours simply draws fire to it."

He turned to others. "No time to lose. Leg it..."

Suddenly the door bay opened again, but this time Number One didn't seem happy. He dropped his weapon.

"T35's. We're fried."

Two monstrous constructs stepped forward. They were over three meters tall, laden with armor like old continents, and held guns that looked like Armageddon's crazy sumo-wrestler uncle who escaped from prison by punching the wall down.

"Stand back! This looks like a job for John Zoidberg!"

The party stood as if struck dumb. Then Bender said, "How the hell did you do that!?"

Zoidberg clapped. "I'm a doctor ... we know things." He looked at them proudly. "You're lucky to have Zoidberg as a friend. If it wasn't for the old Zoidberg, you'd all be dead now! I'm a hero I am! ... Friends, wait!"

After several smaller skirmishes and Bender's attempt to steal a nuclear warhead, the P.E. crew stood at the bottom of the maintenance shaft. Number One was hacking the access hatch. After some time, he threw down his clipcom and kicked it.

"Damned Necrosoft Windows! I'm gonna kill Gates again, and this time I'll stake him!"

Amy looked at him, somewhat confused. "Why didn't you use the handle?"

"The ...? Oh yes, I forgot about that."

Number one opened the hatch. "Wait for me at the end of the corridor. Don't open the door, just wait." he turned and run up the stairs.

They waited for what looked like hours. Everyone slowly became disgruntled. Bender kicked Zoidberg down and sat on him. Amy was protesting because of inhuman working conditions, but Farnsworth refused to give her payment raise. Leela felt miserably, and hudled in the corner trying to sleep. Fry just sat next to her and stared at the door. Zoidberg sprayed some ink on Bender. Bender tried to strangle him. Everyone got up. Then everyone got back down because a thundering explosion shook the corridor. Then another one. And another. The door got torn out, and Number One jumped in.

"Run, damn you! Run!"

They run after him into a great docking space. The place was turned into a war-torn battlefield. Several hundreds of cyborgs and robots held the bay at the far end, giving fire support to two large walkers. From the opposite side advanced another army of robots, a thousand strong at least. Beams of crackling, hot death filled the air. The air tasted like lead.

Luckily, the advancing robots were too busy demolishing enemy fortifications to pay any attention to a handful of sausage-links who bolted across the field as fast as their legs could do. Number One led them into a small, narrow tunnel lighted only with dim, red lights. They rushed around the corner, and found themselves inside the familiar corridor of the Planet Express ship. Number One trotted inside last, chuckling like a maniac.

"...An ambush! He tried to ambush me!? Bwahahahaha! Oh brother..." He turned to Leela. "Well, Turanga, you're in charge now. I've disabled the gravitronics lock. Take us out of here as fast as this freighter can go!"

He followed her to the command room.

"Since when are we on the first name basis?"

"Since I saved your ass four times. And please, call me Max."

Leela jumped into her seat and grabbed the wheel. She felt like herself again. Others took their posts.

"Navigation?"

"Online!"

"Autopilot?"

"Present!"

"Dark matter indicator?"

"Making a noise!"

"Let's rock!"

"Hey! That's my pickup li..."

The Planet Express ship shook as the landing gear retracted. Leela pushed the gas pedal as far as it could go. The ship flew through the maneuver space, between two large carriers and out of the control zone. Two destroyers and a wing of frigates broke off the raging space battle and followed them closely, but these were loyal to "Admiral Max".

Suddenly, the communications screen flickered and showed the helmet of professor Crane. He laughed. "Nice way do duck my trap, Number Zero. But I think your escape route always had this little weakness. In a matter of seconds my engineers will have perimeter defense back on-line, and I will personally blast you and your rag-tag fleet back into subatomic particles."

Number One grinned slyly (This was becoming his trademark). "Oh no. I don't think so. Computer, script 0."

"... INITIATING SCRIPT 0. STAND BY."

Professor Crane turned towards the console. "What the..."

The communication was cut off abruptly. A monstrous explosion shook the ship, sending everyone to the floor. A swarm of white-hot fragments flew past the ship as Leela brought it to a full stop.

"What was that!?"

Number One played with a pencil. "The station's singularity reactor. I knew the old fool will try to taunt me, so I prepared this little script. Just in case."

Leela sighed, relieved. "Okay. There is no permanent damage to the ship ... engines on-line ... let's go home."

Leela and Fry sat at the small restaurant across the Planet Express building. Leela was happy. Hermes hasn't forgotten to feed Nibbler, Bender didn't use up all the hot water, she had a good night's sleep, and they stopped professor from using antimatter warhead to change a TV channel. She enjoyed the sun, and Fry's warm hand over her own, and felt as if their yesterday's adventure was but a bad dream. But when she opened her eye, she saw a part of that dream sitting across the table, eyeing the coffee pot suspiciously.

"So, Max ... what are you planning to do now?"

Number One put down the pot and looked thoughtfully through her.

"Well, I still have a large part of the Imperial navy, and several big companies, and a fatt banking account. I think I can pull through."

"But that's property of professor Crane! How can you..."

Number One showed her his (freshly forged, in the P.E.'s basement) ID, identifying him as Maximilian Kharkov Crane, professor of microbiology and neurocybernetics, and owner of approximately 7% of Earth's economy.

"I don't hear him complaining. And besides, I have his DNA. no one's gonna prove that I'm a clone." He leaned back. "I've always dreamed of an evil empire of my own..."

Leela frowned, looking at him. He noticed her expression.

"Um ... outer worlds piracy? A tiny occasional villainy?"

She was still looking at him. He tried his best.

"A ... marketing agency?"

Leela sighed. "That sounds harmless enough."

"An evil marketing agency?"

"Don't push your luck."

He finished off his coffee, and picked up his briefcase and coat. Without his helmet and armor, he could easily pass as a mildly eccentric citizen. "Well, I'll be leaving you two love birds, then. Oh yes... Turanga, I've paid your debt to professor Farnsworth."

Leela stared at him.

"The popcorns."

"Oh. Thanks, Max. And ... have a nice day."

He grinned. "Sorry, lass. I have other plans." Professor Maximilian K. Crane bowed slightly, and stepped out into the world.

Fry watched him walk across the street and out of their lives. He felt relieved.

"There he goes. I still can't believe all this happened because the Professor changed history, and you made it worse trying to fix things!" He paused. "You know, Leela, all this time I thought that guy was after you. But now, I'm not quite sure. Why was he treating you like that? I mean, one moment he was like "you are the woman of my life" and the other he'd make a joke about you. And everyone laughed at you! That was so cruel and mean! And then he'd save our lives! I mean, is he actually evil or he's one of those very, very smart people who go around and..."

Leela kissed him. "Shut up, Fry."

He did shut up.

They kissed again.

THE END . . . ?