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Author Topic: Deja Vu: Why, oh why...  (Read 5249 times)
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« on: 01-09-2012 23:47 »

Am I back?

One would say to finish a fanfic and... I guess that's the only reason.  I now believe in finishing what I started.  I began this story, so I will end it. 

Oh yeah, I am Jewelvine on FanFiction.net.
And this Revenge is that Revenge.


Episode I: Ransom

Chapter 1

The Clandestine Galaxy

Space and all its vastness were relatively quiet.  No one had dared enter the small galaxy for millennia, for one simple reason; no one had come back out again.  The few who had managed to find the Clandestine Galaxy and begin explorations had either gotten lost, crashed, or ran out of food and resorted to cannibalism.  Thus the galaxy was left alone—no one wanted to eat the ones they traveled with.  Those who knew the ones who had ventured there called the place cursed, everyone else, who didn’t know about it said, “Eh? What Clandestine Galaxy?  Is it near Space Earth?” 

So when a massive, darkly colored fleet of starships entered the galaxy, no one was there to notice.  No one was there to see the starships navigate through the galaxy until they found a star system with nine planets, no one saw the aliens of the starships disembark on one of the planets; no one witnessed the beginning of a new civilization.

The Callanians, the aliens who’d dared come to the Clandestine Galaxy, had previously inhabited a planet that’s close proximity to a growing black hole had lead to its untimely demise.  Finding themselves penniless, stuck with each other on starships, and without a home, the Callanians turned to the extremely cheap Clandestine Galaxy, and its hoard of cursed, noxious, and uninhabitable star systems.  After purchasing their star system for the small amount of 1000 atoms of Jumbonium and settling on four of the nine planets, the Callanians began to rebuild their civilization and it wasn’t long before they were thriving again.  Yes they thrived; thrived, bickered, and waged war on each other daily.

On the seventh planet orbiting the Callanian sun, hidden within a rugged mountain range, a great obsidian tower spiraled up into a deep, indigo night.  Lit by only three iridescent moons; one full, one waning, and one crescent, the tower is silent; no covert operations are to take place this night.  The only movement is the occasional shuffle of feet; a few bored guards paced around their posts and wished for their shifts to end.

There!  A flash of white light shattered the indigo night.  The guards stared up lazily at the grayish streak that had broken the tranquility of the night for a moment before they realized what it was and hastily they jumped into action to receive the tiny, single-man starship that landed.  They stumbled and shoved each other out of the way, eager to be the first and not the last—the laziest, the punishable—to great the visitor.

“What is your business here?”  The first guard to reach the visitor elbowed one of his fellows harshly in the stomach.

“I believe the one you call ruler of this tower is expecting me.”  Poison dripped off the small, cute guest’s words.  “And I think you should take me to him so I can complete my business with him and get on my way.”

“He must be the Nibblonian.”  The guard whispered loudly to the second guard—the one he’d just elbowed.

“No kidding dingus.  Who else could it be?”  The second guard rubbed his stomach.

The Nibblonian glared with all three of his eyes at the guards.  “I am the Nibblonian.  Now take me to the ruler of this dismal place so I complete our business and leave.”

The first guard looked the cute native of planet Eternium up and down for a moment before responding.  “Very well.  Follow me.”  Signaling to his fellow guards the guard led them and the Nibblonian into the tower.  The odd group walked past the now empty guard posts and entered the tower through two wide, steel doors.  Once inside they were greeted by the meager heat given off by eerie green torches placed on either side of the entrance of the tower.  The guard led the Nibblonian past these without a blink of an eye and to an enclosed spiral staircase that winded its way up the core of the tower.  The Nibblonian noticed, as he and the guards ascended, there were small windows placed at regular intervals on the staircase’s outer wall.  One peak through one of these windows revealed a huge hangar terminal teeming with cargo ships, warships, and smuggler ships of all shapes and sizes.  The Nibblonian gulped, he knew the Callanians were powerful, but never before had he seen the full extent of their power and what he saw through the windows scared him.

After eons ticked by in a matter of minutes and miles of walking upward the guards and the Nibblonian reached a door near the top of the tower.  The first guard hesitated outside a door built in the same fashion as the main doors of the tower, almost afraid to knock.  Right as he lifted his hand to do the deed, a gravely voice on the other side of the door spoke.

“Let the Nibblonian enter.  The rest of you, return to your posts immediately.”

The guard pushed the door open for the Nibblonian before backing away down the stairs.  Running his paw over the back of his neck Ken entered a well-lit, under-furnished chamber.  Standing with his back to the door was a tall figure wearing a charcoal colored cloak.

“Do you have the price I specified?”

The Nibblonian took out a small, ancient-looking scroll from his robe.  “I have brought as you wished.  Now where is Fiona?”

The Callanian turned around; acid green eyes bore into the Nibblonian.  “She is being brought here as we speak.  Now let me see the scroll.”  He stepped forward and reached to take the scroll from the Nibblonian. 

The ancient, cute alien stepped back and held the scroll out of the Callanian’s reach.  “I will give it to you when I see Fiona and we are well off this planet of yours.”

The Callanian Lord stepped back and nodded slowly.  “As you wish.”  I have waited this long.  I can’t afford to lose it all just because of a Nibblonian’s insolence.  “It’s a pity, our two races, perhaps the oldest races in the universe had to meet in such un agreeable terms.

Time passed in silence.  The Callanian Lord paced around the chamber, his eyes never leaving Ken and his scroll for a second.  The Nibblonian meanwhile stood completely lost in thought, oblivious to the Callanian Lord’s glare. 

Finally, after what felt like a millennia to both Nibblonian and Callanian, a loud rap echoed through the chamber,

“Enter.”  The Callanian Lord’s eyes never left Ken.

The door slowly creaked open and a guard and Fiona in handcuffs entered.  The guard pulled Fiona’s chains taut, dragging her to the center of the room.

“As you requested.”  The guard addressed the Callanian Lord before he hastily left.

Ken rushed forward to help Fiona up from where she’d fallen.  “Are you hurt?  Were you treated badly?” 

“I’m fine.  But Ken, what did you promise to give him—?”

“Enough!”  The Callanian Lord took a sweeping step toward the Nibblonians. “I kept my end of the deal.”  He glared at Ken “Now give me the scroll.”

Ken glared at the Callanian Lord before leaving Fiona and walking over to hand the scroll to the acid-eyed alien.  Then the Nibblonian backed away, slowly he returned to Fiona.  When he reached her, he grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the chamber and down the spiraling stairs that he had come up, and out to his awaiting starship.

Meanwhile the Callanian Lord stood transfixed, holding the scroll.  Finally, finally I will have the answers I need.  Slowly he undid the ribbon holding the scroll and his acid green eyes read words that were never meant for anyone but the Nibblonians.  His eyes widened, the Callanian inhaled deeply.  This changes everything.  He walked over to a videophone sitting unnoticed in the corner of the room and dialed a number.  After a couple minutes a figure surrounded by a tropical background appeared on the screen.

“Yes?”  The figure’s voice was full of static.

“I hear you are in quite a lot of debt.”  The Callanian Lord stated.

“So?  What are you getting at, Julian?”

“Never call me that.  That is no longer my name.”  The Callanian Lord spat.  “I heard you were in debt and I have a job that might interest you.”

The figure crossed him arms.  “What kind of job are we talking about?”

“What kind do you think?”  Julian raised his eyebrow “Have you ever heard of the Mighty One?”

“That urban legend cocked up by the Nibblonians?  Don’t tell me you actually believe he exists.”  The figure snorted.  “Those cute gerbils just created him to frighten the rest of us.”

“What would you say if I said I have proof of his existence?  And that I know what his exact location will be in a day or so?”  Julian raised an eyebrow at the figure.

Well.  Well.  So you’re saying he’s the target?  What kind of payment are you willing to give?  I am in debt after all.”  The figure paused, static pixilating his image on the Callanian Lord’s videophone for a moment.  “And how do you know where he’ll be anyway?”

“I’m going to have a package delivered.”  Julian looked at his nails as if his answer explained everything.  “The first part of your payment is that package.  The rest will come later.  I don’t want the Mighty One, if we take him the Nibblonians won’t hesitate in attacking.  Someone close to him—the closest person you can get—will do just fine.  I’ll send you the coordinates.”  He cut off the transmission.  Then the Callanian Lord looked down at the scroll and the few words scribbled off to the side of the main text.  Earth.  New New York City.  Planet Express.  Philip J. Fry.

Planet Eternium

“You gave him WHAT?!”

Fiona’s yell reverberated around the Hall of Eternity.  After leaving the Clandestine Galaxy behind, Ken and her had rushed back to their home planet where Ken finally revealed what he had traded Fiona for.  Now the Nibblonian was regretting that decision, as Fiona would probably put his head on a platter for the next feast.

“Its just one scroll.  He can’t do much damage with just it.”  Ken stumbled through his words.  “It doesn’t even say who the Mighty One is, just that he exists.  And saving you was much more important.”

Fiona glared at her fellow Nibblonian.  “Saving me isn’t as important as protecting the Mighty One!  He’s the savior of the universe!  And I’m . . . I’m me.  Nibbler scribbled Fry’s location and identity on the corner of the scroll when we first suspected that he was the Mighty One, no one ever bothered to remove it because no one thought anyone would be so stupid as just to hand the scroll over to a potentially dangerous person!” 

Ken gulped.  The realization of how drastic his actions had been finally dawned on him.  The Nibblonians had protected the Mighty One and kept his identity a secret for years lest anyone meant him harm.  Then in one fell swoop; Ken had given one of the most dangerous aliens in the universe the Mighty One’s location and identity. 

“I just . . .” Ken began.  “I thought you were more important that one measly scroll.  I didn’t think of the possible consequences of giving the Callanian the scroll.”

Psst!  Grainy white noise flashed on the Nibblonian’s videophone for a moment before Nibbler standing on the table of the Planet Express conference room table appeared on the screen.
“Greetings Ken.  Fiona.”  The Nibblonian on Earth addressed the two on Eternium.

Both Ken and Fiona gulped.

Chapter 2

In another part of the universe the fabled Mighty One travels to a distant planet on a mission, a mission to deliver a package.


The purple-haired Cyclops involuntarily groaned before she pressed a few buttons, resetting the Planet Express ship’s trajectory to leave the earth’s atmosphere.

Humming to herself, the Cyclops inspected her nails, and then drew her fingers through her long ponytail.  He’ll give up in a minute.


Or not.  The Cyclops pushed herself up from her chair at the helm of the ship, walked over to the navigational controls and inspected them.

“Leela!”  A redhead in his late twenties entered the bridge.  “Why haven’t you answered me?”

Leela walked to the other side of the bridge, inspected the torpedo launcher, ran her fingers across the controls, and refused to look up at the redhead or acknowledge his presence.

“You’re still made about it?”  Fry’s arms slapped his sides.  “It was only a joke.  It didn’t hurt anyone.”

The Cyclops looked up at Fry just long enough to give him a menacing glare before returning to the helm to steer the ship.

“It was Bender’s idea!”

Fry’s last feeble attempt to gain a reply out of his purple-haired captain went unheard.  Sighing, he left the bridge and returned to his and Bender’s quarters. 

 Leela breathed a sigh of relief when Fry had finally gone.  Without thinking she pushed herself up and walked across the bridge to a large pile of Slurm cans Fry had shoved hastily in the corner.  The Cyclops picked up one of the cans of addicting soda, opened it, and drained it in one gulp—something she never did—or ever thought to do, chugging Slurm and ruining his health was Fry’s thing. 

Crushing the soda can in her grip, Leela returned to the captain’s seat.  Well, chugging Slurm had been Fry’s thing, Fry’s thing all up to two days ago.  Then everything changed and Leela no longer found the soda so repulsive.

Two days ago.  Two days ago she had been repairing the Planet Express ship after yet another failed peace mission to Omicron Persei 8.  Two days ago she’d been wondering if Nixon would ever understand that the Omicronians would never accept peace with Earth.  Two days ago everything had been normal.  Then Fry and Bender had played a disasterous prank on her . . . Leela shook her head; she had been trapped in a virtual dream world for three hours.  Three hours.  And wingus and dingus wanted her to forgive them?  After she thought she had been running for her life from space bees, giant brains, and robotic dinosaurs all at once. 

Leela tossed her crumpled Slurm can back toward the pile of full cans.  She had almost forgiven Fry and Bender for accidentally trapping her within a virtual world, but then it had started.  It being the stabbing pain she felt in her gut.  It had started that night, after the professor had managed to draw her out of the virtual world.  The pain had been just a small nuisance at first, nothing big, but as the night drew on it had grown and grown and grown until it threatened to consume her completely.  Then when Leela decided she could not take any more of it, when she became ok with the thought of dying, the pain stopped.  It simply stopped.  She remembered lying in bed for hours and waiting for the pain to return, but it hadn’t.  It was gone—completely gone.  Leela remembered getting out of bed and moving to the bathroom, where she promptly vomited twice.  It was at that point she could no longer forgive Fry and Bender; their prank had forced her into a vulnerable state of powerlessness.

“Of all the ships from the planet, Earth I think this one is one of the finest.”  A low, deep voice spoke from a shadow in the corner of the bridge.

 Leela jumped up and spun toward the corner, fists raised.  “Who’s there?!”  Her glare searched the shadow but found no one.

“Yes, definitely one of the finest earthling ships I’ve seen.”  A tall alien wearing the apparel that one usually saw on a bounty hunter stepped out of the shadows.  “Then again, I haven’t ridden in very many of Earth’s ships and I can hardly count the holding cells of the ship of that ass, Brannigan.”  He looked at Leela and for the first time she was able to see his eyes; one was green, the other brown. 

“Who’re you?  And how’d you get on my ship?”  Leela braced herself to fight.  Damn!  I am not in the mood for this!

The alien looked at his nails  “Who I am or how I got here are trivial things and do not matter in the slightest . . . But if it comforts you” he lifted up a small black device. “I used this transporter to teleport myself onto your ship.  Which might I say again, is one of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of being in.”

Leela didn’t reply, but kept her eye trained on the black transporter as she reached behind her back to retrieve a laser gun she always kept on her body.  Her hand had closed around the gun’s cold hilt and she slowly lifted it up behind her back.  Softly the safety on the gun clicked and Leela felt it begin to warm up in her hand.

A grin played across the bounty hunter’s lips. “What?  Silent now?  After you were so full of questions?  Don’t you want to know why I traveled halfway across the universe just to meet you?”

“Me?”  Leela hesitated.  “What could you possibly want with me?”

“Everything my dear, everything.”  The bounty hunter walked up to stand directly in front of Leela, so close that they were nearly touching.  The Cyclops shivered at the bounty hunter’s closeness and involuntarily took a step back.

“Listen you— Why are you here?  What do you want with me?” The purple-haired Cyclops snarled.

“I want nothing to do with you.  Its my boss who does.”

Leela opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything her world fell to darkness.

Sighing, Fry flopped down on his hammock.  After his last attempt to get Leela to talk to him, not sure of what else he could do, the delivery boy returned to his and Bender’s quarters.  Fry sighed, wishing—not for the first time that he hadn’t gone along with Bender’s idea to prank Leela with the hologram device the professor told them specifically to stay away from.

Fry rolled over on his side and reminisced about two days before.  He, Leela, and Bender had returned from yet another ill-fated mission of peace to Omicron Persei 8.  Fry wondered why Leela didn’t just order Lrrr, the ruler of the Omicron Persei 8, to give in to Earth’s peace demands.  She’d had no problems with bossing the Omicronian around when Ndnd kicked him out of their castle and he’d crashed on Planet Express’s lounge couch.  But now Lrrr was back with Ndnd, and the Omicronian queen wouldn’t let anyone but herself boss Lrrr around.  Especially not Leela . . . maybe that was why the Planet Express ship had been shot in to a more crippled state than usual by the Omicronian warships, Ndnd resented Leela and her relationship with Lrrr.  Fry shrugged and turned over on his back.  Whatever the reason the Omicronians had shot at the Planet Express crew; they still had shot, and Leela still had to pull one of her quick escapes. 

When the crew had returned to the Planet Express HQ, Leela had immediately forced Fry and Bender into doing the necessary repairs.  Of which the delivery boy and bending robot had abandoned ten minutes later when their purple-haired captain hadn’t been looking.

Snickering to themselves, the two friends had gone up into the tower room, where they had found and played with some of the professor’s old and unstable inventions.  After turning Fry’s nose green and enlarging Bender’s head, Bender had brought forth an old hologram projector that claimed holograms 99% better than the next guy’s.  Once Fry and Bender successfully recreated Morgan Proctor, Bender’s golden counterpart from Universe B, and Frankie from Hal Institute for Criminally Insane Robots, they decided to put their newfound power to good use.  They decided to prank Leela.

The prank was a simple one; just a hologram of a space bee that would fly up behind and scare Leela.  It would go off without a hitch—or so Fry and Bender thought.  They had created the space bee and taken it to the hangar where Leela was doing repairs.  They had watched as the bee approached Leela and the Cyclops swing a wrench at it.  They witnessed the wrench somehow getting stuck in the hologram and Leela being dragged into a virtual world through the hologram.  Fry remembered it had taken three hours to retrieve the Cyclops from the world created by the hologram connecting to the wrench.  He remembered the lecture the professor had given him and Bender about how they were not allowed to touch his old inventions that he didn’t even know what was wrong with.

Fry sat up on his hammock and stared glumly at his hands.  He’d been hopeful he could amend things with Leela when Bender had to suddenly attend to his ailing great aunt and couldn’t go on the mission.  But the Cyclops had refused to talk to the delivery boy since they’d taken off.

Maybe if I . . . Fry stood up.  Maybe if he tried to talk to Leela one more time she would listen to him.  Maybe if he tried to explain things.  Tell her it was an accident.  The delivery boy started walking toward the bridge.  It was worth a shot, he had nothing else to lose. 

“Leela I—” Fry started when he entered the bridge, but a heavy hand clamped itself firmly over the delivery boy’s mouth.  Drowziness overcame Fry and his world fell to darkness.

The bounty hunter looked down at the Cyclops and redhead lying on the floor before him.  The redhead—the Mighty One would a take a light nap and wake up feeling a little dizzy.  The other one, the Cyclops—her sleep would be longer; she was the one he would take back to Callania 7.  The Callanian had set the bounty for not the Mighty One--but someone close, and that was the Cyclops.

Carefully the bounty hunter stepped over the two sleeping bodies.  There was one more thing he had to collect before teleporting back to his ship, the first part of his payment.  The package.  Once he had tracked and retrieved the small box from the cargo bay, the bounty hunter hefted the slumbering Leela over his shoulder and teleported off the Planet Express ship.

Chapter 3
Planet Express HQ, New New York City

Sunshine delicately glowed in through the bay window off to one side of the lounge.  Everything was relatively quiet and peaceful; a bureaucrat, a robot, and a decapodian sat on a yellowing lounge couch watching TV.  For once nothing was exploding.  All was well.

Everything changed when the small, three-eyed alien pushed himself into the lounge.  No one noticed his entry, no one ever did—he was just too small.  The Nibblonian gazed around the lounge, his eyes falling on the trio on the couch.  Then, slowly, he made his way over to the couch.

Nibbler rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm his nerves.  Its not like you haven’t done this many times before.  This wasn’t the first time the universe had been in danger of being destroyed; there had been the attacks of the brainspawn and Bender’s time sphere paradoxes ripping open Yivo’s anomaly.  Thinking about it, Nibbler realized he had become extremely experienced in warning the Planet Express crew that certain doom was coming.

The Nibblonian gulped before he pulled himself up onto the coffee table next to the couch.  He cleared his throat and prepared to pontificate. 

“Nibbler!  Get your furry butt off the table!  I can’t see the TV!”  Before Nibbler could begin Hermes shoved the Nibblonian to the side, nearly knocking him off the table.  Only the Nibblonian’s quick dive to the side stopped him from being shoved completely off the table.

Brushing himself off, Nibbler began again “I have—”

“Amy, turn the TV up higher.  I can’t here Calculon over this runt.”  Bender jerked his thumb at Nibbler.

“No wait.  I have—”

“Monique, my love, tell me what has become of my son?”

“Oh Calculon, its horrible—”

“I’m telling you I have important—!” 

“Turn it up higher.”  Bender commanded.  “I still can’t here Calculon.”

Amy turned the volume up and soon anything Nibbler said was drowned out by the blare of the TV.

“My son, Monique!  What has become of my son?”

“I . . . I don’t remember.”


Nibbler opened then closed his mouth.  I have to warn them!  Fry—all of them are in grave danger!  It could be the end of the universe!  And they want to watch TV!  The Nibblonian paced the length of the table.  He was getting nowhere slowly.  Nibbler looked up at the three members of Planet Express watching TV; maybe if they wouldn’t listen the other members of the Planet Express crew would.  The Nibblonian jumped off the coffee table; Ken and Fiona had warned him of the danger of the Callanian Lord, now he had to get that warning to Fry—trying to relay the message to Bender, Hermes, and Zoidberg was impossible.

“We interrupt All My Circuits to bring you breaking news from just outside earth’s atmosphere.” 

Directly after Nibbler left the lounge, a news report abruptly cut off All My Circuits.

“Starship travel turned more dangerous than usual today when an unmoving starship caused accident after accident.  We now go live to our station just outside of earth.”

The screen cut away from Linda in the Root 2 News station to Morbo, in a space station, standing in front of a window that portrayed a massive amount of crashed starships.

“Linda, today a simple starship abandonment on the main thoroughfare out of earth turned to disaster when ship after ship swerved to avoid the stopped starship and crashed into each other.  All attempts to communicate with the stopped starship failed.  (An image of Smitty and URL standing before a broad window looking out at a green starship came on the screen; Smitty feverishly talked into a small hand radio attached to URL.)  Eventually the starship was seized and boarded; the only one aboard was a puny delivery boy, at the time unconscious.  There was no sign of the ship’s captain or any other member of the crew.”

“Hey!  It’s that ship that’s always in the news.”  Bender waved his beer at the TV and looked at Hermes and Zoidberg.  “Y’now the one run by that crazy old guy.”

Hermes, who’d been staring off into space, glanced at the TV.

 “That’s the Planet Express ship ye good for nothing robot!” 

“Yeah that one.”  Bender gulped half his bottle of beer.

“That’s our ship.”  Hermes glared at the bending robot.

Before Bender could reply, Nibbler reentered the lounge, after successfully finding Amy and the professor.

“Grave danger you say . . .”

Sometime Later

“So what you’re trying to tell us is that Fry is the Mighty One, the only one who can save the universe from its premature demise.  And that currently he is in danger because you Nibblonians gave information concerning him to one of his worst enemies.”  Hermes crossed his arms and looked down at Nibbler.  “Why should we believe you?”

“Because it’s the truth!  I have warned you many a time of the impending doom the universe is in.  Tell me when was I wrong?”  Nibbler looked up desperately at Hermes, before turning to the professor, Amy, and Bender in turn.

“If someone trying to kill Fry is the end of the universe than we have nothing to worry about.  Because I’ve hunted down and tried to kill Fry a few times and let me tell you, its not easy.  The meatbag just won’t die.”  Bender leaned back in his chair.  “I tried stalking, I tried haunting, and nothing works on him.”

Nibbler sighed.  “This foe is a greater threat than you.  He will succeed.”

“Greater than me, Bender?!  Impossible!”

Nibbler looked around at the Planet Express crew; he needed to hurry things up.  The Callanian could strike at any moment.  He needed to get Fry to safety . . . but where was Fry?

This just in, that starship that caused havoc on Earth’s main thoroughfare has just been identified as the Planet Express Delivery Company ship owned by Professor Hubert Farnsworth.  His “uncle” Philip J. Fry was the only one on board the starship at the time of its frozenness and is held completely responsible for all the damage done during that three-hour period.  Turning to other news . . .

The long forgotten TV that no one bothered to turn off filled the silence with the ending of a news report and an answer to one Nibblonian’s question.

Fry was in great danger indeed.  He wasn’t rich enough to get away with all the damage he had supposedly done.

Chapter 4
Deep space—Not quite deep enough to be deepest space

Two starships hovered side by side; close enough to be connected by a slim tube, but far enough to rip apart from each other should trouble arise.  A lone figure waited by the entrance to the tube of the ship on the left.  He stood tall, sickly golden hair fell in thick dreadlocks to his shoulders, and his two acid green eyes watched the broad-shouldered alien come through the tube.

“Julian Jerome Antony III, Lord of Callania 7.”

“You give yourself airs you do not have, hunter, to call me by my true name.  Tell me, why are you still alive?”

The bounty hunter smiled “I have the package you requested.  When can I expect my payment?”

“I don’t see anyone but you, hunter.”  Julian mockingly looked around him.  “Is this package of yours invisible?”

“I had to leave her back on my ship.  I forgot that Earthlings are not as apt to teleportation as my race or yours.  She is currently resting in a drug-induced coma.”  The hunter moved off to one side, as to allow Julian walk into the tube.

“And you couldn’t have carried her the short distance to my ship?”  The Callanian Lord passed the hunter and walked into the tube.

“I would’ve risked her waking up.  My lord, I will warn you, she is a dangerous one.  She will not falter in seeking revenge on me . . . or you for kidnapping her.”

Julian turned to look back at the hunter “So you talked to her then?”

“No . . . but you know it is in my nature, as a Embritan, to assess someone’s nature on sight.  And I tell you, this pawn is dangerous.”

“And you couldn’t have picked someone else?  Someone less dangerous, perhaps?”

“She was the only one there besides the Mighty One himself.  And you specifically instructed me not to take him.”  He paused and muttered. “Though I don’t see why.”

The Callanian Lord glanced back at the hunter, but didn’t reply to this last remark.  His associate didn’t need to know that any move against the Mighty One would be a move against the Nibblonians.  And a direct move against the Nibblonians—the oldest race in the universe besides the Callanians would be fatal to any and all of the Callanian Lord’s plans.  Which is why Julian chose a more indirect path to destroying the savior of the universe.  Take the Mighty One, face the full force of the Nibblonians, then the rest of the Callanian planets when his battle with the Nibblonians was dragged back to the Callanian system.  Take someone close to the Mighty One, face a lesser force of the Nibblonians, and less chance of the battles being dragged back to the Callanian system.

The Callanian Lord and the bounty hunter walked in silence.  They passed through the tube connecting their ships and into the hunter’s ship.  Then they moved through a labyrinth of rooms holding everything from bounties the hunter collected to the weapons he used to collect them until they reached the sick bay.

A doctor with golden, dark-speckled skin not unlike a leopard looked up, and then jumped to attention when the two lords entered his domain. 

“Sir” The doctor bowed.  He paused and studied the Callanian Lord “Lord of Callania . .?”


“Lord of Callania 7, welcome.”  The doctor pushed his glasses farther up his nose.  “You’re here to see the newcomer I suppose?”

“Why else would we be here if we were both perfectly healthy?”  The bounty hunter snapped.  “We both have agendas to attend to as you should know, knowing as you are of the stream of gossip that runs through this ship.”

“Yes . . . yes of course.”  The doctor stammered.  “Right this way.  She’s been kept in a coma-like state at your request.  I do not recommend keeping her in this state—her body has already been stressed passed its limit, stressing it farther could be hazardous for—”

“If we wanted to hear your opinion, we would ask it.”  The Callanian Lord cut the doctor off.  “Is this her?”  He turned toward the hunter when they reached a bed where a purple-haired Cyclops lay.

The bounty hunter nodded his confirmation.

“Interesting.”  Julian paced around the bed.  He stopped by Leela’s head and gazed down at her.  The hunter was right; she was dangerous.  If anything, her muscular build proved she could and would fight . . . and there was something about the Cyclops.  The Callanian cocked his head and leaned down closer to his captive, his eyes went wide. “She—she’s—”

“That’s why I told you she’s dangerous.  There is no way to stop her.”

“Perfect.”  The Callanian Lord smiled.  “I have just the job for her.”

DOOP Space Station 23.7/E Orbiting Earth

It was the soft, plush, cloud underneath him that woke Fry up.  The delivery boy rolled over on his side and groaned.  What happened?  Wher-where am I?  Leela!  Where’s Leela?!  He shoved himself up, only to find that he was no longer in the Planet Express Bridge but in a periwinkle-painted wall crews’ quarters complete with bed, night table, and mirror.  What’s going on?  Where’s Leela?!

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Fry whirled around.  There stood Glab, leader of the DOOP.

“How do you feel?  Do you need anything?”  Glab walked farther into the room.  “You gave us all a scare; you were unconscious when we found you.  It was uncertain if you would wake up.”  She paused.

“Where’s Leela?”  Were the first words out of Fry’s mouth.  “Is she ok?”  were the next.

“Leela?”  Must be the other human we found on the crew list.  “There was no ‘Leela’ onboard your ship when we apprehended it.  Was she with you?”

“Yes—we were on a mission—delivering a package—a death ruby from the Andromeda Galaxy—she was still mad at me for—wouldn’t let me on the bridge—”  Fry’s words became faster and faster until Glab could barely understand them.

“You’re obviously under a great deal of stress.”  Glab approached Fry.  “Try to calm down.  Now, Leela was with you when you left Earth?”


“Where were you going?  And why?”

“We were delivering a rare death ruby to Virulekia—no Vizulena?”


“Yes!  That one!”

“I see.”  The president of the DOOP paused.  “That’s what I thought.  Fry, are you aware that the planet, Virulencia has been abandoned for four years?”


“The planet that you were delivering the death ruby to is no longer inhabited.  Its people abandoned it four years ago for reasons unknown.”  Glab looked pointedly at Fry.  “Can you tell me why you were delivering a highly valuable death ruby to an abandoned planet?”

“Virumia was abandoned?!  B-but we were delivering a ruby there.”

“I understand that.  But why were you delivering the ruby in the first place?”

“I dunno.  It appeared on our doorstep with a promise of payment upon delivery and the professor said we had to delivery it.  Then Bender came up with a reason why he couldn’t go on the mission and Leela made me get on the ship and we left.  Then Leela wouldn’t talk to me so I went into my and Bender’s room.  Then—”

BOOM!  Fry was thrown off the bed; Glab lost her balance and fell to the floor.  The ground rumbled and the walls shook.   The bed Fry had been sitting on quivered and jolted itself halfway across the room, hitting Fry’s arm on its way.

“Oww.”  The deliver boy groaned.  “What was that?”

“I don’t know.”  Glab sat up; she seemed to be without injury.  “Glab to bridge.  What was that?”

Only white noise came from the other end of her wristlojackamator.  Whoever was in the bridge wasn’t responding.

“Glab to bridge.  Is anyone there?  Hello?  Anyone?  Hello?”

Brittle white noise was her only reply.

“Something’s wrong.”  Glab informed Fry.  “The radio has been cut off.  I need to see what’s going on in the bridge.”  She stood up and hastily left the delivery boy.

A few minutes later Fry pushed himself up, wiped off his clothes, and left his room heading in the same direction Glab had gone.

The passages the delivery boy walked down where painted a yellowing white and eerily empty.  All the crew workers and officials one would expect to see in a space station were missing.  Fry shivered, his footsteps echoing through the pathway in front of him.  Slowly, tediously slowly he wandered his way to the bridge.

“Wait!  Please—please don’t hurt me!”


Fry froze.  He recognized that voice!  But it couldn’t be . . . Glab said she wasn’t here.  Hesitantly the delivery boy entered the bridge.

“Why are you doing this?  What did we ever do to—ooh!”

“Lee—Leela?”  Fry stared at the purple-haired Cyclops surrounded by knocked out crewmembers, her last victim—Glab—laying by her feet.  “Leela?  What are you doing?”

The purple-haired Cyclops turned to Fry.  Her eye narrowed.  Finally.  She’d found him.  Leela looked around the bridge and at her victims, it wasn’t safe here.  She needed to get him—Fry, somewhere else, somewhere more isolated.

“Leela?”  the delivery boy stumbled over the body of a crewmember to get closer to his captain.  “Leela, what’s going on?  Why did you knock everybody out?”

“We need to leave.”  The Cyclops walked past Fry.  “Its not safe here, they meant us harm.”

“B—but they’re DOOP!  They’re the good guys!”

“They are not the good guys.  We need to get out of here.”  Leela snapped.  “Now come on, or do you want to wait here and explain why—how you knocked out the entire crew of a space station to their backup when they arrive.”

“Wait! . . . You knocked them out!”  Fry grabbed Leela’s arm “Leela?  What’s happened to you?  I know you don’t like Zapp Brannigan, but that doesn’t mean you can go around knocking out random DOOP employees.”

“Fry, come on.  Do I have to save your butt from everything?  They.  Meant.  You.  Harm.  You need to understand that.”  Leela jerked her arm from Fry’s grasp.  The DOOP’s backup would arrive soon, someone on Earth would realize that all the space station’s communications had been cut, and she needed to have Fry far, far away by then.

Fry recoiled when Leela pulled away from him.  Something was wrong with his captain; she wasn’t acting normal—not normal at all.  “Leela?”  He stepped closer to the Cyclops.  “Do you know what happened on the delivery?  How’d we get here?”

“Delivery?  What delivery?  Stop making things up Fry, we need to go.”

Yes, something was definitely wrong.

Fry gulped as he followed Leela out of the bridge.  The Cyclops led him through a series of empty passages until they reached the escape pods.  Once there she ordered him to get in one while she opened the hatch.

Then they were speeding down to Earth and Fry’s heart pounded on his ears.

Red; the color of fire.  It slowly engulfed Fry’s range of vision as New New York City filled the escape pod’s window and the small, scarlet, towered building grew larger and larger.  Fry stared at the ant that was the Planet Express building, a silent plea that whatever was causing Leela to act strangely would soon pass going through his head. The delivery boy glanced over at the Cyclops, she was completely absorbed in steering the escape pod, Fry returned to gazing out the window.  Half thought out ideas running rampant through his mind; maybe Leela had been kidnapped and replaced by raging space monkeys or . . . the possibilities were endless.

Carefully Leela guided the escape pod down to a street on the Hudson River a few blocks away from the Planet Express building.  In silence she opened the hatch, Fry exited the starship, and Leela closely followed him.

A cool wind brushed against Fry’s back when he exited the escape pod.  The Hudson River glittered in front of him.  The day was quiet.  It would have been a perfect day for a beach trip—or as Fry preferred, sitting on the couch watching TV.  Vaguely the delivery boy wondered if that was what Bender was doing at that moment—he didn’t think the robot actually had a sick aunt like he claimed so he could get out of going on the mission.  The subtle click of a laser gun’s safety going off brought Fry out of his thoughts.  He turned around and there was Leela, pointing a laser gun directly at him. 


The Cyclops cocked the gun and fired.  Fry barely managed to avoid the shot.

“Leela?!  What’s going on?  What’re you doing?!”

Leela smiled wickedly at Fry.  At the space station she was in danger of being caught by whatever forces the DOOP sent to see why their station had gone silent, but here on Earth, in a street coated in abandoned houses, there was nothing to stop her from completing her mission.  Assassinating the Mighty One.

What the Callanian Lord had done was simple.  He couldn’t outright attack the Mighty One.  The Nibbonians would now have him under heavy defenses, since they knew that he knew who he was.  Julian’s best move would be to send in an assassin.  And who better than someone already close to the Mighty One?  Someone the Earthling would never suspect.  Someone whose memory had been wiped and could be convinced to kill Fry.  Someone like Leela.

The Cyclops cocked her gun and fired again.  This time Fry dove to the ground and tasted gravel, the shot barely grazed off the top of his hair horn. 

“Leela!  This isn’t you!  Look inside yourself and ask, do you really want to kill me?”  Fry yelled up at the starship captain.  “I’m sorry!  The space bee was a prank!  I didn’t know you’d be dragged into an alternate dimension thingy!”

Leela aimed her gun at Fry’s head; the delivery boy only had seconds to dodge before the fire was shot. 

Ok, I guess she is really going to try and kill me.  Fry pushed himself up off the road and began to run.  I wonder if this means she’ll never forgive me.  Behind him Leela raised her gun again.  I have to stop her . . . What would Delivery Boy Man do?  Think Fry think!

“Leela!  Please!”  Fry whipped around and confronted the Cyclops.  “Please don’t kill me!  I thought you loved me!  I love you!”

His only reply was the hum of the laser gun as it charged.

The assassin stared at her target.  He looks so—so defeated.  A pang of pity went through her heart.  But he still has to die.  He’s the target.  She started to press her finger down on the trigger.  Nothing can change that . . . 

Plop.  Plop.  Plop.  The assassin looked up, raindrops splashed down from a deep grey cloud covering the sky.  She hesitated, her finger quivered on the trigger.  Maybe . . . Maybe I don’t have to kill him.  Leela looked up as it began to pour down rain, a raindrop landed in her eye.  She felt her arm holding the laser gun lower. 

No!  The mission was to kill him!  I must kill him!

Fry stared at Leela.  The starship captain stood frozen, her arm halfway posed to fire her laser gun, the rain-washed teardrops down her face.  “Please . . . please don’t kill me.”  The delivery boy whispered.

Leela looked up at Fry, rain running down her face like tears.  She stepped forward, closing the space between them and just looked at him.  Then she looked down at her chest for a moment, when the Cyclops turned back Fry, the confusion was gone from her face.


“Huh?  What?”

“Run.  Run for your life.”

“B-but Leela . . .?”


Fry looked back at Leela once, confused, before he started running in the opposite direction.  He didn’t understand; she tried to kill him and now she was telling him to run?  What was going on?  The delivery boy stopped running and turned back around.  He froze.  Why was Leela running to the river?  Fry took a step after the Cyclops, then another, then another.  Then he was running.  He saw Leela climb up on a ledge above the Hudson River holding a shiny, silver object that looked something like a doomsday device—where she got it, the delivery boy didn’t know.  But a second later it didn’t matter, Leela jumped into the river with whatever device she held and it went off.  Fry had almost reached the ledge where Leela had when the river exploded into a fiery hellstorm of river water, debris, and ember.

And so ends Episode I.

Nibblonian Leader

Urban Legend
« Reply #1 on: 01-12-2012 04:03 »

Heh. "Let the Nibblonian enter"...

Nice story, btw.

Avatar Czar
DOOP Ubersecretary
« Reply #2 on: 01-13-2012 08:32 »

* winna lets a single tear drop from their eye.

« Reply #3 on: 01-15-2012 18:21 »

Episode II: The Plums N Cherry Pie

The Planet Embrita

Dry, cracked dirt crunched beneath the alien’s feet.  His eyes fell on a lone figure standing near a smoke-colored starship.  The alien stepped up to the figure, their eye met and they bowed, a harsh, dry wind tugging at their long robes.


“Lord of Callania 7”

“I trust you brought the rest of my payment?”  The bounty hunter pressed his lips together.  Julian’s choice of meeting places didn’t meet his own.  Embrita, the planet the Callanian Lord had chosen had been destroyed by nuclear war two decades before, there was nothing left on the planet.  It would have been thought the perfect meeting place for those on the dark side of the law if it weren’t cursed.

The Callanian Lord raised an eyebrow.  “You truly believe you deserve the rest of the payment?  You let her die.  She was the perfect pawn to manipulate and she is gone—without even killing the Mighty One.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.  You hired me to kidnap someone close to the Mighty One, I did.  There was nothing about having the one I kidnapped kill the Mighty One.”  The bounty hunter crossed his arms.  “Where is my payment?”

 “Here” The Callanian Lord threw a small pouch at the bounty hunter.  “You want it so bad, take it.”

The hunter opened the pouch and looked inside it.  “This is barely half of what you promised me!” He glared back up at the Callanian.  “Where’s the rest of it?!”

Julian looked coldly at the hunter.  “You brought me the Cyclops, who wasn’t suitable for the mission I set up for her.  The Mighty One still lives while she blew herself up.  Your pawn failed and you want your payment?  You’re lucky I’m being this generous in giving you this much.”  He snarled.  “Let it stand as a warning; next time don’t let the pawn get away.”

“The job was to kidnap someone close to the Mighty One.”  The hunter snapped back.  “What happened after that was of no concern to me!” He paused, closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath.  “And you know very well that the Cyclops was dangerous.”  He opened his eyes. 

“That she could and did overpower your commands.  You should’ve thought of that yourself before you gave her the explosive.”

The Callanian Lord narrowed his eyes.  “That’s the only pay you’re getting.”  He sneered.  “I refuse to pay anymore for an incompetent pawn.”  He returned to his starship and left.

The bounty hunter stood for a moment and watched his employer leave.  Then his eyes turned on the barren wasteland that had once held a thriving metropolis.  “This will be you one day, Julian.  Nothing but a wasteland of hate and sorrow.

And this will help bring about that.  The bounty hunter took a small vial filled with bluish liquid from his pocket.

Chapter 5
Three Weeks Later

Robot Arms Apts.

A bird flew past the window.  He didn’t see it.  The TV was on.  He barely watched it.  Bender was smoking in the other room.  He didn’t smell the tobacco.  It had been three weeks since he moved and a large variety of newspaper headlines coated the coffee table next to the couch where he sat; Unknown Explosion Causes Minimal Damage, Owner of Local Planetary Delivery Company Fined For Causing Explosion—again, Explosion Causes Death of Cyclops Starship Captain.  The redhead grunted, shifted his position, and pushed most of the newspapers off the coffee table.  Digging around through the layer of papers that remained he found and opened a slightly dented can of Slurm.

“Hey Meatbag. . . .”  Bender walked in the room.

“ . . .”

“Still not talking I see.”  Bender went across the room to the refrigerator, where he opened it and retrieved a bottle of beer.

“. . .”

Bender opened his beer; taking a long swig from it he walked back across the room.  Once he was at the doorway the robot looked back at Fry, sighed, and left.  The redhead sipped his Slurm and continued blindly watching TV as if nothing had happened.

(On the TV)

“Do you feel depressed, confused, or tired of life kicking you in the shins?”

Fry nodded slowly to the TV.

“Do you feel like sometime you need to get down, dirty, and outright drunk?”

Fry slowly nodded again.

“Well then it sounds like you need to come to Happy Hour at the Hip Joint!  Every Tuesday you can be as drunk as the next idiot!  And with no consequences whatsoever!” (Then in a lower voice) “The Hip Joint is not responsible for any bank robberies, high speed car chases, or hotwiring of an intergalactic starship while drunk.”

Fry sat for a moment, sipped his Slurm, scratched the back of his head, and shifted the newspapers around on the table some more.  Then he watched TV for five more minutes before pushing himself up, stretching, and walking out the door. 

Outside cool wind pressed against the delivery boy’s back.  He looked toward the sky for a moment where dusk was slowly fading into night and the first stars were making an appearance.  Three weeks ago he’d been on top of the world; he lived a thousand years in the future, had a low paying job, and had finally gotten the girl of his dreams to admit that she had some kind of feelings toward him.  Then he and Bender had pulled their disastrous prank on Leela and she’d begun to hate them.  Not to mention she’d tried to kill him.  Or had she?  The scene on the street by the Hudson River replayed in Fry’s head.  None of it made any sense.  The delivery boy sighed and walked down the street to an entrance to the Tube Transport System.

 “The Hip Joint.”  His voice was rasping and hoarse after long disuse.

The tube sucked him up and the redhead began his journey across town.

Back in his and Fry’s apartment, Bender sighed.  He hated seeing Fry so downtrodden—though he would never admit it.  But what could he do?  The delivery boy was dead set on depression and wouldn’t listen to any logic Bender had to offer.

Fry would have to drink himself out of his sorrow on his own.

The Taco Bellevue Hospital

 “There isn’t anything you remember?  Maybe a name?  Or address?”  The doctor looked at his patient quizzically.


“Are you sure?  No type of granola bar you might’ve preferred?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t remember anything.”

“I see.”  The doctor scribbled some notes on his clipboard.  His patient, a young woman fidgeted and began to toy with her long hair.  She’d woken up lying on the banks of the Hudson River some hours before with no memory of how she’d come to be there—or anything else for that matter.  Her mind was a complete blank.

“We’ll have to check your career chip.”  The doctor finished his scribbling.  “That should tell us who you are and then we can get you going home.”  He smiled at the woman reassuringly. 
The woman smiled back, not reassured in the slightest. 

A moment later the doctor brought out a small scanner and waved it above the woman’s right hand.  Nothing happened.  The doctor frowned before trying it again.  Still nothing.  “Odd, this thing was working just fine this morning.”  The doctor studied the scanner, punched in a couple of buttons making the scanner beep.  “There, now it should work.”  A final wave of the scanner still brought nothing.

“That thing should’ve told you what my career chip reads, right?”  The woman questioned.

“Yes, I don’t understand why it’s not working.”   

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.  What’s obvious?”

The woman rolled her eyes.  “That thing isn’t reading my career chip.  Either its busted, which I don’t think it is or I simply don’t have career chip.”

“No.  No.  That can’t be right.  You must have a career chip.”  The doctor retorted.  “The only way you can’t is if you’re a sewer mutant.”  He raised an eyebrow and studied the woman. 

“Or an alien.”

“Excuse me.  Sir?”  A nurse walked up and poked the doctor in the back.

“What?!”  The doctor snapped.  “I’m busy as you can see.”

“That scanner you have there stopped working an hour ago.”  The nurse informed the doctor,
as she handed him an identical object.  “Here’s one that works.”

“Oh . . . oh, ok.”  The doctor took the scanner.

The nurse nodded and brushed the woman as she walked past,  “Sorry the best I could get you was waitress, but I can’t exactly be seen here.”  She whispered.

The woman nodded, confused.  “Who are you?”  She whispered back.

The nurse ignored the woman’s question and continued walking.

Bewildered the woman turned back to the doctor, who was in the process of waving the new scanner over her hand.  The small machine beeped a few minutes later. 

“Ah, this one is working.”  The doctor held up the scanner.  “Leia Abrams, you are a waitress and currently not employed.  There’s an opening at the Hip Joint you might want to look into.”

“My name is Leia Abrams?”


“And I’m a waitress?”


I wonder how true that is.  Whoever that nurse was obviously did something to the scanner, because I don’t have a career chip.  I know I don’t.  Of all things to be sure of, Leia knew that one to be true.  The amnesiac studied her hand.  Maybe I should get the job at the Hip Joint; I don’t have anywhere else to go.  With that thought, Leia promised the doctor she’d check in after she had been to the Hip Joint and found someplace to stay, and left the hospital.     
After finishing with Leia, the doctor turned to his next patient, yet another amnesia patient.  When wills this end?  This isn’t some weird show like All My Circuits where everyone has amnesia.   

“You have no idea what your name---?”

“Lee Lemon.  My name is Lee Lemon.”
Good.  This one knows something.  “Whitney!”  The doctor yelled at an intern.  “Get over here!”

A tall, lanky, blond, intern walked over to the doctor and patient, while stuffing something in his pocket.  “What can I do for you, doc?’

“Whitney, this is Lee Lemon, she has amnesia.  I need you to go find any files that we might have on her.”

Whitney smiled at Lemon “Yes sir.”  He left to get the files.

The doctor and Lemon stood in awkward silence as they waited for Whitney to return.  The doctor studied his clipboard, making notes intently as Lemon watched.  Every now and then the doctor would glance up at Lemon and Lemon would glare back at him.

After some time Whitney returned—without any files.

The doctor raised an eyebrow at the intern.  “Well, there had to be something there.  No offense ma’am, but you don’t look like the type of person who wouldn’t get herself hurt doing something dangerous.” 

“I couldn’t find anything, Doc.”  Whitney shrugged.  “Maybe you should check her career chip.”  He handed the doctor one of the scanners, and left.

“Well.”  Sighed the doctor “That cocky, no good intern of mine is right.”  He turned to Lemon

“The only way for me to discern who you are past your name is through the scanning of your career chip.”

Lee Lemon nodded and held out her hand.

Chapter 6

Planet Express

“Ok.  Everyone but Fry is here?”  Hermes looked around the conference table.  The delivery boy had barely shown up for work during the last three weeks and the bureaucrat had stopped expecting him to come.  He would when he was ready—or never. “Good.  First order of business, we need to find a new captain.  We all loved Leela, but it’s been three weeks and we’ve made no deliveries.”

“Don’t we always wait a few weeks between delivering package—?”

“That’s not da point here!”  Hermes snapped, “Leela’s gone and we need a new captain to fly the ship around and make it look like we’re actually successful delivering packages.”

The crew went silent.  Bender pulled out a cigar and began to smoke, the professor continued his nap he’d started at the beginning of the meeting, Amy inspected her fingernail polish, and Zoidberg glanced over at the refrigerator and wondered if anyone would notice his or her missing lunch . . .

Hermes sighed and pulled out a thick stack of folders.  “I didn’t want te do this, but you’ve left me no choice.  This is a stack of starship captain applications I errr . . . took from de job applications division of the Central Bureaucracy.  Look through them and figure out which one you’d tolerate the most while I go—”

“Hold up!”  Bender threw himself up.  “Why do you get to go and leave me-Bender with all the work?”

“I have a heck of a lot of filing that needs to be done and you’ll be the ones going on missions with the new captain.“

“But why can’t I be new captain?”  Bender placed both his hands on the conference table.
“You crashed an oil tanker on a penguin preserve on Pluto the last time.  Now start looking through those applications.”

Bender grumbled something about ‘killing all humans’ under his breath and opened the first file.

“You Earthlings will never cease to amaze me.”  A dark-clothed figure stepped into the conference room.  “You believe your friend is no longer living when you don’t have the proof to follow your argument.”

Hermes turned around to greet the figure “I believe de term is ‘Earthican’ and—Wait!  Who’re you?”

The bounty hunter sighed.  How many times have I heard that one?  “I go by many names; Mordred Pierce III, Marcellus de la Skye VI, Brad Pitt.  But mainly I’m just ‘the bounty hunter’.” 
The bureaucrat stood agape for a moment, then shook his head and regained his composure.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing.  But I think you’ll want what I have to offer.”

“Why would we be interested in anything you have?”  Amy finally finished inspecting her nail polish and looked up to see what was going on.  “And how did you get in here anyway?”

“You left the door unlocked.”  The bounty hunter smirked.  He drew out a small vial filled with a bluish liquid. “And I think you’ll want this.”  He laid the vial on the conference table with a clink.

All eyes turned to the small, mystic object.

“What is it?  Neptunian blood?”  Bender rubbed his metal hands together.

“No.  It is—what it is, is for you to find out, but be aware that you will need it.”

“Why should we trust you?  How do you know we will need it?”

“You don’t.  I’m a bounty hunter, trusting me could be your biggest mistake.  But I don’t usually give things away without a cost, so consider this vial to be very important.”  The bounty hunter turned to leave.  He paused and looked back at the Planet Express crew.  “One more thing; your friend, the Cyclops is alive.  It might be a good idea to find her.”

Falcon Enterprise

“This is Falcon Enterprise, one of the largest, privately owned starship companies there is.”
Whitney informed Lemon.  The intern had volunteered, and then insisted on helping Lemon find lodgings and work after her career chip had identified her as a starship captain. 

Its weird.  Lemon thought.  The chip could identify my job, but it couldn’t tell me who I am.  I wonder why?  Looming before her was a smooth, white, polished building that gleamed in the afternoon sun.  Lemon raised her hand to shield her eye as she squinted up at the building; ink black letters halfway up its side read in flowing letters, Falcon Enterprise.  Lemon glanced over at Whitney, who felt her gaze and turned to smile at her encouragingly.  Ignoring the intern’s smile the amnesiac starship captain stepped forward and pushed open the door into Falcon Enterprise.

Cool, refreshing, artificial-smelling air greeted Lemon as she stepped into the starship company.  The white cleanliness that consumed the outside walls of the business disappeared in the colorful, chaotic interior.  Employees hurried around the main lobby carrying an odd assortment of starship parts, files, or any number of other miscellaneous things through a large doorway behind a front desk set at the back of the lobby.  Lemon stood and watched the beehive-like goings of the business for a moment before Whitney joined her.

 “Falcon Enterprise.”  Lemon spoke the name of the business.  This was the third starship company the intern and amnesiac had been to; the first had turned down the idea of giving Lemon a job at first glance, the second had at least interviewed her before turning her down.

“You’re here looking for a job?”  One of the bee-like employees readjusted his hold on a L-unit. 

“You won’t find one here.  We’re not hiring, we have enough problems at the moment.  What with Zapp Brannigan ramming into one of our ships a month ago.”

Zapp Brannigan.  Where have I heard that name before?  “Zapp Brannigan?”  Lemon looked at the employee.

“Y’now, the imbecilic DOOP hero who isn’t worth any of the titles that they give him.”  The employee replied.  “Last month his ship the Nimbus collided with one of our smaller freights, and he had the nerve to sue us for the damage costs.  We’re walking on very thin ice here, so there’s no way we can take on new—”

“Jean.  Jean.  Jean.”  A grotesquely obese, pepper-haired man walked up behind the employee with the L-unit shaking his head.  “Wasn’t I just telling you that we needed to hire on another hand?  That our flight staff has been short since Tamara jumped ship after last month’s crash.”

“No, you were telling me that we needed to reduce---”

“Would you believe him?”  The pepper-haired man laughed, clamping his hand down on Jean’s shoulder.  “Now which one of you is looking for a job?”  His eyes looked at Whitney, then lingered on Lemon.

 “Lemon here is.”  Whitney pushed the amnesiac forward.  “She’s a starship captain, we thought this would be the place to come for a job.”

The pepper-haired man looked Lemon up and down.  “Yes, this is your place.  If you’ll step into my office we’ll get your papers filled out.”

“Wait!  You’re just going to hire her?”  Jean intervened.

“No.  Remember we’re short on staff? And can take any help we can get?”  The pepper-haired man snapped at Jean before he turned to Lemon and held out his hand.  “I’m Tom, owner and manager of this company.”

Jean looked flustered.  He drew his hand over his face.  “So you’re not even going to interview her?  Do you know how unfair that is to the rest of us?  You know the ones you actually interviewed.  The ones who actually had to apply to get a job here?”

Tom gave Jean a cold look.  “We’ll talk later.  If I were you I’d be worrying about my job right now.”  He led Lemon off to his office. 

Whitney shoved Jean to the side before following.  “Hey dude.  Next time keep your mouth shut.  Some things are bigger than you.”

Jean held his L-Unit and stared after the odd group.  What the heck is coming to this place?

Tom’s office was small and bare; its only furnishings were a desk adorned with a computer, chairs, a small fish tank in the corner, and a file cabinet.  Tom gestured to Whitney and Lemon to sit down on the chairs on the closer side of his desk, while he took the one on the opposite side.  He opened a drawer and took out a few papers, which he placed on the desk before him.

“This is a six year contract with Falcon Enterprise.”  Tom pushed the documents forward.  “In it, it states that during that time you will be an acting starship captain for Falcon Enterprise; you will go on any and every mission granted to you, you will work for Falcon Enterprise and Falcon Enterprise only, any contact with rival companies with annul this contract.”  Tom paused to study Lemon to see her reaction to this last statement, when she did not object he continued.  “You will be granted health and flight insurance, and you will not be required to take any mission deemed life-threating until at least your fourth year of service here.”  Tom paused to look at Lemon. “Are these satisfactory terms?”

Lemon nodded.  It works better than the deal that I had with the professor . . . What professor?

“Good, then sign here, here, and here and you can start tomorrow.”  Tom held out a pen.

Lemon pushed the door open and sighed.  The motel room was dimly lit and smelled distinctly of mildew.  Well it could be worse.  At least there’s a bed . . . and a roof.  She slowly walked into the room, without any money, this rundown cheap motel was the best place she could even think of staying at.  The amnesiac looked around; the room was barely furnished, holding only a bed, table, and a few chairs.  The walls were beige with paint peeling off and cracks zigzagged across its surface.  Lemon walked over to the bed and flopped down; tossing the red jacket Whitney had bought her down beside her.

Tomorrow at least I can start working at Falcon Enterprise and maybe then I can stay someplace better.

Lemon rolled over and pushed her face into her new red jacket.  It smelled vaguely of cherries and the store Whitney bought it at.  She wasn’t sure why she liked it so much or why she’d noticed it when she first saw it in the store window, but something had drawn Lemon to the jacket.  It felt familiar.  Something about the jacket made her feel safe, made her feel wanted in a world where she had nothing.  Nothing besides a name.  A name that may not even be hers.  Lemon combed her fingers through her long ponytail and stared at the ceiling.  Lee Lemon.  How can I know that is truly my name?

Lemon gripped at the ragged blanket covering the bed beneath her.  She hated feeling this weak—this defenseless—completely depended on those around her.  She had relied completely on Whitney to get a job, a place to stay, even a cheap red jacket.  She hated it.  She utterly despised it.

It took her a long time to get to sleep that night.

The streets of New New York City

The evening sun was beginning to sink lower toward the horizon by the time Leia made it to the Hip Joint.  She had taken her time reaching her destination purposefully, she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to be a waitress.  It just seemed wrong.  She was more suited to piloting starships around galaxies than to carrying trays of drinks around tables of drunken dancers.  Leia laughed quietly to herself.  Piloting starships.  Now that would be fun.  A whole lot better than becoming a waitress just because she couldn’t remember who she was.

Leia stopped in front of the entrance to the Hip Joint.  The neon lights of the nightclub illuminated her face and the blasting music loved by the clubgoers bombarded her ears.  The purple-haired amnesiac hesitantly took a step forward.  Here I go . . .

“Hey!  If you’re not going in, get out of the way!”  A brown haired jock adorned with a navy blue jacket roughly shoved Leia out of his way and entered the Hip Joint.

“Who do you think you are?!” Leia ran after the jock and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him around to face her with strength she didn’t know she had.

“What’s the big idea?”  The jock grabbed Leia hand off his shoulder and nearly crushed it in his grip.  Leia cringed and tried to pull her hand away, but the jock wouldn’t let her go, instead he tightened his grip, causing Lemon to feel her pulse in her hand.  “Is there a problem, sweetheart?”  The jock spat in the amnesiac’s face.

Leia twisted her arm around and freed her hand from the jock’s grip.  “I don’t like bullies.”  She snarled.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was talking to a freakin nun.”  Sarcasm dripped off the jock’s lips.  “Now get out of my way or I’ll really hurt you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”  Leia retorted.

“What was that?”  The jock lunged . . . and went flying past Leia, who’d dodged at the last second.  Finding his prey now behind him, the jock turned around arms raised . . . and tasted dirt and rubber as Leia’s kick had landed with deadly precision.  Anger boiled through the jock. 

“You—you’re nothing but a purple-haired freak!”  He yelled.

“And you’re nothing but a child.  A young, foolish child.”  Leia raised her fists, waiting for the jock’s nest attack.  She didn’t have to wait long for it, as the jock lunged, much like a bull, forward.  Leia smiled, as she darted to the side, not unlike a hare.

“Is there a problem, Marshall?”  A bouncer, who until this point had ignored the fight, spoke directly to the jock.

The jock pointed to Leia “She’s causing trouble.”

The bouncer turned to the amnesiac “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.  Now.”

Leia hesitated.  She was prepared to fight and defend herself against the jock and his claims; she knew she could easily defeat the idiot.  But was it worth it?  No.  Without a word the amnesiac turned on her heel and walked away from the Hip Joint, her energy was better used on better things.

Leia exhaled slowly and began to walk down the road, unsure of where she was going.  She had no job, no place to stay, nothing.  Nothing but the red-gold sunset painted across the sky before her.  The amnesiac squinted up at the fading sun.  What will become of me now?
The amnesiac ran her fingers through her ponytail as she thought.  She couldn’t get a job at the Hip Joint, not after the fight.  Getting lodgings somewhere was also out—she was penniless and unless she broke into someplace . . . but where?

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, a silvery crescent moon rose.  A gentle, cool wind blew against Leia’s back.  Not many walked the streets that night; most were at the Hip Joint or some other nightclub, or hiding in the shadowed alleyways where they could skulk unnoticed.  Leia noted with a growing unease that she was the only one left on the dark street she’d been walking down.

“Pop a Poppler . . .” slurred words drifted into Leia’s ears from an alleyway.  She stopped.  I’m not alone!

“When you come to (hiccup) ‘ishy Joes (hiccup)” the singing continued. 

Leia turned toward the alley.  What is that?

“What (hiccup) made of . . . mystery (hiccup) . . .”

Leia lifted and eyebrow and slowly started striding toward the alley.

“Where ‘ey come . . . (hiccup) one kno’s . . . (hiccup)

The drunken singing stopped.  Leia hesitantly entered the alleyway and was enveloped by the same shadows that sheltered a hunched figure pressed against the brick wall of one side of the alley.  Slowly, Leia made her way closer to the hunched figure—a drunk.

The drunk lifted his head and Leia was able to see two bloodshot eyes for a second.  Then he bent his head down and shuffled farther down the wall away from Leia.


Leia hesitated before stepping closer to the drunk.  “It’s ok.  I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Leevmeeallone.”  A hand waved itself in Leia’s face.  The drunk shuffled farther down the wall.

 “No.”  Leia followed the retreating hunched figure, surprising herself.  What am I doing?  “I will not leave you alone.”  She crouched down to the drunk’s eye level.  “Listen, getting yourself drunk was probably a mistake.”  The words left her mouth before Leia could stop and think what she was saying or whom she was saying them to.  “You have a life and you’re wasting it in this alley.  Why am I informing him of this?  He’s drunk!  He doesn’t understand anything of what I’m telling him!


Leia pursed her lips and glared at the drunk.  “Listen you, I don’t know what all you’ve been through that’s led to you being drunken in this alley, but I don’t care.  I have lost more than you can ever imagine in just one day.”  The rage she’d kept bottled up since she left the hospital was finally beginning to leak.  “Heck I have no idea who I am or what kind of life I have!  And you’re telling me you want to waste your life in this alley!” 

The drunk looked up at Leia for a moment before his eyes fell downcast again.  “I sorry.”  He mumbled.  “I sorry . . .” then he drifted off to sleep.

Leia sighed and turned to leave the alleyway.  The night wasn’t getting any younger and she needed to find a place to sleep . . .

The purple-haired woman looked back into the alleyway behind her.  If a drunk can sleep there, why can’t I?  I’ve done at least two things on impulse in the hour, why not add a third?  Leia returned to the alley and squatted down near the drunken idiot. Where else did she have to go?

Chapter 7

Falcon Enterprise

 “I know Tom hired you as a captain, but frankly I don’t believe someone with amnesia can successfully steer a ship.  So until you can prove to me you’re worth it you will serve as a flight attendant. Do you understand?”

Lemon bit her tongue and sized up Jean.  Fighting with him would probably bring them before Tom and he would put her in command of a starship.  Then because of her amnesia she would crash the ship into fly it into a giant TV billboard or something worse.  Lemon nodded.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.  The ship is in terminal C and-“ Jean looked at his watch. “Will leave within the next five minutes.  Remember, if you breath a word of this to Tom, you’re dead.”  The flight director stared directly into Lemon’s eye, daring her to disobey.  The new employee only nodded before running down the hanger to terminal C.

The starship was green.  It was tall, looming, and green.  Lemon stopped and stared at it for a moment.  Something about the ship’s color reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite place it.  She sighed and shook her head before pushing past a line of passengers boarding the starship.

“—We want you to be captain again.”

Lemon paused and looked back at the line of passengers, all of them were busy handing luggage off to crew, collecting energetic children, or simply standing in line.  She shook her head and continued into the starship.

“Let me guess.  He cancelled naptime?”

“You! What are you doing here?”  A brown-haired man in his mid-twenties, who wore a navy Falcon Enterprise uniform, stopped lemon.

“Errr—did you hear that just now?”  Lemon looked around her, but there was no one but the brown-haired man and the passengers.  No one had spoken, minus the brown-haired man.
The brown-haired man crossed his arms.  “No.  Now are you a passenger or what?  Can I see your ticket?”

“He ran out of beer?”

Lemon glanced around again.  Still no one owned the voice only she could apparently hear.  “No.  I’m a flight attendant on this flight—Jean sent me.”

The man looked the amnesiac up and down.  “Fine, if Jean sent you, get aboard.  Don’t screw anything up and you should get by.”  He paused.  “I’m Luc, lieutenant of this ship.”

So he’s about to kill us?

Luc turned around and walked into the starship, with a final sigh and wonder at the mysterious voices she had heard, Lemon followed him.  A couple minutes later the passengers finished boarding, then the ship’s engines powered up and it took off, a small black cube starship part flew off and landed with a thud on the street.

Sometime Later . . .    
. . . Between Earth and Jupiter’s moon Io, now a spa resort

“This is your captain.  We are halfway to Io and we hope you’ve enjoyed the flight so far.  Thank you for flying Falcon Enterprise, the Earth’s best starship company since 2952.”  The captain’s voice was ignored by most as it rang out across the cabin.  The few who listened to it, snorted.

“Best starship company my last dentures!”

“If this was any other company we would be there already!”

“Shut your yapping, you’d be broke if this was any other company.  The price of your ticket alone would put you on the streets.”

“At least Falcon is cheap.”

“Are you all idiots?  There’s a flight attendant right over there.  No doubt she’ll report to her higher ups after this flight ends and tell them all about our little conversation.”

“Who cares?  Look at ‘er.  Like anyone would actually listen to her.”

The entire group of passengers glanced over their shoulders at the flight attendant standing some distance away from where they sat.  Feeling their gaze, the attendant glanced over at the group.  She sighed inwardly.

“Can I get any of you something?”

The group exchanged glances.  No one spoke.  The flight attendant let out a long breath and walked to the other end of the cabin, where she stared out at the passing moon, Deimos.  For once she had nothing to do during a flight.  Things that usually went wrong at this point were still going right.

BOOM!  The ship rattled and Lemon fell to her knees.  What the—

Warning!  Warning!  Engine 4 lost power!  All crew personnel to bridge.  Warning!  Engine 4 lost power!

Why do things always have to go wrong?  The amnesiac sighed.  Then, without waiting for the ship to rattle again, she pushed herself up and ran to the bridge.

“What’s going on?”

Luc looked up from where he stood above the captain.  “He’s out cold, he was drinking again. 
It’s nothing major.

“But engine 4 lost power!”

“Yeah, it almost always does that.  Don’t worry about it.”  Luc shrugged her off.

“Does the crashing into Mars part always happen too?”

“No . . . Why do you ask?”

Lemon pointed at the swelling red disk in the bridge window.

The Streets of New New York City

Fry looked down and gulped.  It was a long way down, a long, long way down.  The delivery boy stood at the edge of a tall precipice, the valley below concealed by a thick blanket of white clouds.  Fry stepped back; what was he doing here?  How’d he get here?  What had happened?  Did he do something stupid again?

Pine needles pressed themselves into Fry’s back.  He turned around, directly behind him a deep pine forest stood erect.  The redhead gulped, then called into the gloom. 


Hello . . .ello . . . ello 

“Is someone there?”

There . . . there . . . there . . .

“Cool, an echo!”  Fry laughed maniacally to himself.


“Fry!”  Fry yelled back.  “Wait . . . that wasn’t an echo . . . Someone’s calling me!”

“Fry!  I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The redhead spun around.  There, before the pine forest stood a purple-haired Cyclops.  She watched him with an amused expression.

“Leela!  You—you’re alive!”

Something flashed over the Cyclops’s face for a moment.  She sighed and shook her head.

“Fry . . .”

“I can’t wait to tell everyone!  You’re alive!”  Fry danced over to Leela and reached for her hands.  The Cyclops refused his touch and retreated a couple of steps back.

“Fry listen, I’m not—”

“Leela come on!  We have to get back and tell everyone you’re . . . Leela?”

The Cyclops kept herself a couple of steps away from the delivery boy.  “Fry, there’s something you should know-” She hesitated and looked over at the redhead.


Fry was cut off by Leela’s tight embrace.  The Cyclops had closed the space between them and now hugged Fry close to herself.  The delivery boy, unsure of what else he could do, hugged Leela back.

“I love you, Fry.” 

“Leela!”  Fry woke with a start and immediately hit his head against a brick wall.  “Oww!  Leela!”  The delivery boy shoved himself up and saw the world spin around him.  “Leela!”  He keeled over and puked, his hangover finally kicked in.  “Lee—“ But the Cyclops was gone with the night.  Fry’s dream was over.  The redhead slumped to the ground and sighed heavily.  For three weeks he’d dreamed of Leela.  For three weeks he’d been drunk almost every day.  For three weeks he’d wanted it all to end . . . but she wouldn’t want that.  She’d want him to keep going.  She’d told him to run.  She had not gone through with killing him . . .

Fry picked up a brown shard of an old beer bottle and gazed at it.  Leela was gone and she was never coming back.  “Its not fair...” Fry whispered.  He’d lost everything when he came to the future; his family, his dog, his low paying job.  Slowly he’d made himself a life a thousand years in the future and the feeling of loss had become smaller and smaller.  Now it was back, stronger than before.  He’d lost the only woman he would ever truly love.  Fry closed his eyes and held the beer bottle shard tightly.  Maybe if he wished enough . . .

You have got to be kidding me.  We’re all going to die because you couldn’t refuel the tank?!  Are you insane?

Leia jerked awake with a start.  “That was a weird dream.”  Was it possible to survive so many starship crashes?  And why was she even on the starship to begin with?  My mind must be playing tricks on me.  Leia shook her head.  “I need coffee.”

The amnesiac stood and immediately groaned; her muscles ached after a night of sleeping on the hard pavement and trash of an alleyway.

“Hey!  This is my puke-hole!  Get out!”  The redhead came from out of nowhere.  He shoved and herded Leia out of the alley.

“Hey!  Get off!”  Leia shoved the redhead off and braced herself against him.  “What’s the big idea?” 

“I was here first!  So get out!”  Fry swore.  He thought he had been alone.  He wanted to be alone.  Hadn’t the world done enough to him?  Couldn’t it let him drink himself into a stupor in peace?

He must be the drunk from last night.  Leia studied the redhead.  Besides being a redhead he was unshaved, bedraggled, hunched, and wore a greasy white tee shirt, faded jeans, and a scarlet jacket.  Something about him seemed familiar.  I think I’ve seen him before.

Fry stared at the intruder to his stoned haven.  She—she’s.  She’s alive!  The delivery boy’s mouth fell open.  “L—Leela?”

“What?  Who’s Leela?”

“You are!  You’re Leela!”  Fry rushed forward a wide grin spread across his face.

Leia stepped back, puzzled.  Who was Leela?  Why did the drunk believe that she was she?  Her name was Leia.  Her career chip said so.  But you don’t have a career chip.  That nurse at the hospital gave the doctor a rigged scanner.  The words whispered through Leia’s ears.  “I’m not Leia.”

“Leela?  It’s me, Fry.”  The redhead searched the amnesiac’s face for any hint of recognition but found none.

Leia gulped and ran her fingers through her long, purple hair.  “F-Fry?”

“Yes!  Leela!  It’s me!  You’re alive!”

Chapter 8

Planet Express

What defines the state of living?  Is it breathing?  Is it being able to move of your own accord?  Is it being a zombie like Scruffy the janitor?  What happens when someone you thought is dead is alive?  What do you say?  What do you do?  How do you react?  Do you go into the impossibilities of the idea?  Do you decide that the dead-now-alive person is a zombie and has to be taken out before she turns everyone else into zombies?
Leela was alive.

The purple-haired, bossy, Cyclops who served as starship captain of the Planet Express delivery crew was alive.

At least according to a rather untrustworthy bounty hunter who always appeared when and where you’d least expect him to appear.

Leela is alive?  Glanced down at the pile of applications in front of him.  Sweet frog of Prague!  I just got all these applications alphabetically organized and now into the fire with them?  Maybe Leela won’t want her old job back . . .

I should be glad Leela is alive . . . but it was nice to finally be the only woman around here.  Bit her lip and nervously rubbed her left index finger over her other hand.

I am so great!  Bender is great!  Oh, Bender is great!  Bender, Bender, Bender . . .

Who’s Leela?  Leaned back in his chair.  Is it important that she’s alive?  Are her organs harvestable? 

Bah!  Alive!  I knew it all along!  Looked smugly around the room.  Nothing gets past John Zoidberg!

Aren’t any of them going to say anything?  Sighed heavily and silently.  Do any of them care?  Took a step back toward the door.

“If Leela is alive where is she?”  Bender raised a metaphoric eyebrow at the bounty hunter. 

“You clearly stated that we can’t trust you.  How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

The bounty hunter stopped in his tracks and turned around to glare at Bender.  “As I told you, trusting me is a risky chance that you’ll have to accept.  And indulge me, if you are so sure of the Cyclops’s death, then where is your proof?  The only argument you have is backed by the occurrence of an explosion and the testimony of someone who nearly always is drunk these days.  How can you be so sure of your truth when it may not be the real truth?”

“Then tell us the real truth!”

“What’ll you pay me?”

“Bah!  I’ve tried to tell you for weeks that Leela is alive, but does anyone listen to Zoidberg?  No!  They would rather listen to Mr. Tough Guy.”  Zoidberg shook an accusing claw around the conference table.

“Zoidberg, you fool!  What’s this nonsense you’re going on about?”  Professor Farnsworth spat at the crustacean.

“It was Tuesday the 17th and I was rummaging though the garbage outside-“

“Shove it Zoidberg, we don’t need to hear about all da trash you’ve rummaged through.”  Hermes interrupted the crustacean.  “Now if Leela were really alive, why hasn’t she already come back here?  It’s been three weeks, if she was alive she would’ve come back to us by now.”  This was said as an accusation towards the bounty hunter.

“Maybe she can’t or she doesn’t want to.  I don’t personally know your Cyclops friend, so I wouldn’t know.”  Came the emotionless reply.

“There were some mashed potatoes stuck to the bottom of a shoe that I was licking off and Leela, she walked past me without hitting me.  I was honored.“ Ignorant of the others’ conversation around him, Zoidberg continued his tale.

“Leela was in a giant explosion, right?”  Bender pulled out a cigar and began to smoke.  “So wouldn’t she be injured like you humans so easily are?  Theoretically wouldn’t she be at the hospital?”

“Hey, yeah.  Bender’s right-“

“I always am.”

—We should go look for her.”  Amy finished.

A passenger ship that is crashing down upon Mars

“What’s going on?”  Luc yelled, “This never happened before!  All the other times the ship was in peril, it was a false alarm!”  He shook Lemon “I’m not trained for this!”

 “Shut up, you’re not going to die.  Now do as I say before I get angry.”  Lemon snarled at the lieutenant.

“We have one chance.  Are you willing to do what I say as captain?”

 Great the voice is back. “Go to the engine room, divert all remaining power to the remaining three engines, and then shut down any sources that are putting energy into engine four.”  Lemon pushed the unconscious captain out of the captain’s seat and took his place.   


“Why?”  Luc crossed his arms.

Lemon glared menacingly at him.  “Do you want to die?  Because unless you do as I say you—me and everyone else on this starship are going to be smashed into nothing against Mars.”  The starship captain’s patience had run dry and Mars was growing bigger with each passing second.  “If we boost the three remaining engines and isolate the fourth completely, we might be able to get out of this.”
“Even if I make you work hard?”

Luc stared at Lemon for a moment, then down at the unconscious captain.  He didn’t—Lemon noted—rush off to the engine room.  Does this guy actually want to die?”  “Go!”  She yelled.
The lieutenant finally ran out of the bridge.  Lemon heard a few crashes as he pushed his way through the cabin and to the back of the ship to the engine room.  She smiled to herself; at least he’d finally listened. 

“As Your God as my witness.”

Lemon shivered.  She had no idea where the commands she’d just spoken had come from.  They’d appeared in her mind as the voice had and her brain sent them to her mouth, which spoke them.  Who am I?

Luc returned to the bridge a couple minutes later.  “All power has been diverted away from engine 4.  The extra power has strained the other three engines but they should hold at least until we reach Io…. Good thinking, you’ve saved the ship and all of our lives.”

“Nothing I haven’t done before.”  The words slipped out of Lemon’s mouth before she could realize what she was saying.

Luc glared at the new captain.  “That doesn’t give you the right to rub it in my face.”

“Sorry.  I’ve had to fly missions where crashing and evasive maneuvers are regularity.  Knowing what to do in situations like that is second nature to me.”

“I thought you have amnesia.”

Exactly 15 Minutes Later
Jupiter’s Moon, Io

“This is your captain.  We have landed on Io, the current time here is 6:20 pm.  Falcon Enterprise reminds you to retrieve your belongings from all corners where they may have ended up and they we are not responsible for any lost luggage.  Thank you for flying Falcon.”  Lemon put down the intercom with a sigh of relief.  Something about being in a starship—controlling it changed her.  She felt like someone else completely.

The starship captain pushed herself out of the captain’s chair and walked out of the bridge.  She watched as the last straggler passengers disembarked before she left the ship herself.  The starship hanger was extremely small—it had to be, it was set in a small valley between two sleeping volcanoes.  Lemon shook her head, why of all places would they build a spa—a popular spa—on Io?  The moon had active volcanoes and regular lava flows.  You’d get burned alive just by walking in the spa doors.

“Hey you!”

Lemon turned.  A man bearing a clipboard jogged up to her.

“Are you the temporary pilot of Flight 598?  The one that nearly crashed on Mars?”

“Yes.  That would be me.”

“Good.”  The man raised an eyebrow and sized up Lemon.  “Do you think you can take the return ship back to Earth?”

The amnesiac hesitated.  She had gotten the ship to Io without the security of knowing what she was doing.  It would be just as easy to take the ship back to Earth, right?

“I can take it.”

“Great.  One of the engines on the ship you flew in on is being replaced, so the flight has been pushed back.  Be at Terminal 3 in two hours.”  The man paused and rifled through his pocket, bringing forth a few bronze coins.  “This should be enough for a meal.”


“Don’t thank me.  Thank whichever of the higher ups favors you enough to pay for one of your meals.”

O’Zorgnax’s Pub

It was the color of deep amber with ivory froth at the top.  Its glass prison was splotched with stains and scratched veins ran up and down its sides after long being shoved around.  The amber liquid only made its escape when a hand grasped its prison and tipped it over.

The beer, Leia noted tasted good.  At least it wasn’t staring at her from across the booth, unlike the redhead she’d walked in with.  The purple-haired woman put down her beer and glanced uneasily at the redhead.  After the incident in the alleyway that morning he had brought her to what he claimed to be a bar they regularly went to.

“So . . .” Leia began toying with her hair.  “My name is Turanga Leela?”

“Yes.”  Fry’s earlier ecstasy was clouded over by his growing headache.  “And you work for Planet Express . . .” he yawned widely “delivery . . . company . . .” he slumped over and fell asleep, weeks of sleepless nights and his hangover catching up with him.

Planet Express Delivery Company.  Leia sighed.  Nothing about the business name felt familiar.  Nothing about the name ‘Turanga Leela’ felt familiar.  She took another long gulp of her beer.  Nothing that Fry had told her felt familiar.  What if I’m not this Leela person?  What if Fry is wrong?  She chugged the remainder of her beer and studied the sleeping redhead across from her.

Fry, unaware that he was being observed, drooled slightly from the corner of his mouth onto the table.  This was the first time he’d actually fallen asleep instead of falling unconscious after getting hammered and even though his head rested on a not-so-clean table, he was enjoying it.

“You want another drink, hon?”  The bartender yelled across the bar to Leia, pitcher in hand.  After she nodded, he shoved the pitcher down the bar so it came to a halt across from where Leia sat.  She remained where she was for a moment before getting up and refilling her mug. 

“Tough luck, stuck with him.”  The bartender nodded past Leia’s shoulder to Fry “He’s been in here every other evening for three weeks.   Y’now ever since his girlfriend died.”

“His girlfriend died?”  Leia raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, she seemed like his girlfriend; bossed him around and all that.”  The bartender began to clean a shot glass.  “She looked a lot like you; muscular, purple hair, but she had only one eye.  Cyclops.”

A Cyclops?  Leia’s hand inadvertently went to her eyes.  There were definitely two of them.  She gulped.  What if? . . . “W-what was her name?”

“Whose name?”

“The girlfriend’s.”  Leia snapped.

“Whose girlfriend?”

“His.”  Leia pointed back to the sleeping Fry.

“Uh . . . Leyla?  Lula?”

“’Yeah that was the chick’s name.  Exploded in the river, you could see the geyser for miles around.  Was in the news for a while; the professor guy who owned the company where she worked had finally gone too far or something.”  The bartender shrugged.  “Wouldn’t be surprised if your friend there mistakes you for her.”

And so ends Episode II.

« Reply #4 on: 01-25-2012 03:58 »

Here's the link to the rest of it if your interested


if it doesn't work, just go to FanFiction.net-Futurama-Revenge
it won't be hard to find.

Finally, does anyone mind telling me how I would go about deleting this account?

DOOP Secretary
« Reply #5 on: 01-25-2012 14:09 »

You can't delete your account on PEEL. Sorry. tongue
Otis P Jivefunk

DOOP Secretary
« Reply #6 on: 01-25-2012 20:44 »

They could always ask to become a Near Death Star Inhabitant tongue...
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