A/N: This is the first episode in a series titled "Tales From Universe Gamma" that is set in a previous cycle of the Universe. We were given a brief glimpse of this setting in the episode: "The Late Philip J. Fry" - It isn't technically Alternate Universe, but it can be treated as such. If you haven't seen it yet, I would highly recommend watching TLPJF before reading this for the best experience. Enjoy!
Tales From Universe Gamma
By Louiswuenator
Episode 1: Quantum Record
EARTH - THE YEAR 3050 C.E.
The first pale rays of sunlight arced over the skyline of New New York and cast a saffron glow on the west wall of Turanga Leela's bedroom. Her single eye fluttered open, aroused by the new light. Yawning, she freed the sleeping arm that had somehow worked its way under her chest during the night and used it to brush light violet hair out of her face. She pursed her lips at the sight of what seemed to be a never ending replacement of her once luxuriously deep amethyst hair with grey strands. Leela sighed.
Deciding to soak in the beauty of the morning glow rather than dwell on the state of her aged body, Leela rolled over to face the east wall where the windows offered a view of the glorious city. Before she could take a moment to enjoy the view, her ears were assaulted by the droning multi-tonal screech of her alarm clock. The accursed device—custom made by her ex-husband Cubert—was guaranteed to wake any human from the deepest levels of sleep in seconds. Leela reflexively slammed her hand down on the bedside desk to hit the snooze button, but the dammed clock had moved during the night. Its design incorporated retractable legs so that it could seek out a new location to terrorize its victim in the morning.
With a hoarse shout of frustration Leela sprung from the bed. Her ears quickly located the source of the sound. Finding a laser pistol secured under the bed, she stalked up to the clock and trained the gun on it, eye wide with fury. The alarm stopped. With a laugh, Leela clicked the safety on and tossed the gun onto her bed. She patted the alarm clock on the head and said, "Don't worry, you little pest. I wasn't really gonna shoot you."
"I know that, Miss Turanga," said the clock in a nasally voice. "You have new unread messages."
Leela rolled her eye at this.
"One of them isn't spam," continued the clock.
"Really," said Leela. "Who's it from, the Space Pope?" She snorted.
The clock ignored this quip and replied, "The sender is listed as Farnsworth, Cubert."
Leela growled as she walked over to her extensive closet and snatched a bathrobe from its hook. The mention of her ex-husband's name compelled her to cover her nakedness. She didn't want to deal with him right now. Instead, she opened the robe, taking a moment to size herself up in the mirror. Though Leela missed the tight figure she had sported in her twenties and thirties, she had not let herself go in the slightest. Toned muscle still showed underneath skin that was perhaps a bit stretchier than before, but overall she was pleased with her figure at the ripe age of seventy-five. Apparently it wasn't good enough for Cubert though; the pig.
Suddenly, any thought of Cubert vanished as the need for breakfast became foremost in her mind due to a second growl, this time from her stomach. Leela padded over to the freezer and opened it. Her mouth pursed yet again. An array of frozen meals awaited her, divided into three groups: Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. All prearranged; all boring, but safely part of her routine. After heating the meal and setting the coffee machine to brew, she sat down at a table near the windows. Leela ate alone.
"Would you like to listen to Cubert's message now?"
Leela sighed. That stupid alarm clock was so insistent. Part of the nature of being an alarm clock, she mused. "Can't you see I'm eating? Go bother somebody else." Leela resumed her meal.
The clock hopped up on a chair and then again up to the table. Leela stared the little machine down as it walked to the other side of the table and faced her, making sure to give a wide berth. It then sat down in such a way as to give Leela the impression of a child pouting. "It could be important," said the robot.
Leela was about to tell the little clock how it would be important to leave her alone if it didn't want to get thrown at a wall when a realization hit. She eyed the robot with suspicion. "Wait a minute," she said. "Are you reading my mail?"
The clock backed away a few steps. "I'm programmed to skim through all of your unencrypted mail in order to separate spam from useful information." The robot said this in a formal tone with a hint of... pride?
The corners of Leela's mouth tugged up in a smile. She set down her fork. "Okay," said Leela. "Have it your way. Tell me what you think the useful information is in Cubert's message."
The little clock stood up and said, "Cubert wanted you to know that he is going to drop by to pick up his alimony check today. Sometime around four."
Leela frowned. The barely suppressed anger she had known all her life began to boil over. "Oh! He's gonna just drop by, is he?" She stood up and started pacing back and forth across the room. "As if I'm just gonna drop everything in my schedule to make time for him! All he does is loaf around with Amy all day, living off of my hard earned money!"
The angry cyclops moved over to a punching bag hanging from the ceiling that had a picture of Cubert taped to it. The bag accepted the fury of her martial arts without protest. The picture was not so fortunate. Leela stopped and took a deep breath to compose herself. Don't lose your cool, Leela. She looked around and noticed that the little clock was cowering in a corner under a stool. She approached slowly as one would approach a stray cat.
"Hey there," she crooned. Racking her brain, she remembered that the little clock had a name, lost in the humdrum of corporate life over the years. Rudy? No, Rodney. "Rodney, I said I wouldn't hurt you." Leela dropped to one knee. "You can come out now."
Rodney stood up straight and took a few cautious steps forward. "You said you wouldn't shoot me," he said. "I know from experience that you can deliver a mean kick."
Leela smiled as she picked Rodney up and brought him back to the table where her breakfast was getting cold. "I'm glad you told me what was in that message, Rodney," she said with as much sincerity as she could muster. "I completely forgot about this month's alimony check. Now, could I have a little peace and quiet to finish here?" The little robot gave the equivalent of a nod and trotted off, leaving Leela by herself again.
On an impulse, Leela left the meal behind, poured a fresh cup of coffee from the machine and walked over to the window. A sliding door opened at her touch and let the cool morning air stream into the room. A spectacular view greeted her. The balcony that she now leaned against was many hundreds of feet in the air, situated on a spire that adorned the tall central tower of Planet Express Headquarters. And she was its Chief Executive Officer.
Leela surveyed the expanse. The complex sprawled out from the central tower which was similar in shape to the original Planet Express building: a sphere resting atop a steeply tapered cone. Leela's quarters and a communications tower made up the giant spire that topped the sphere. The central tower was situated on the edge of the Hudson River, on Manhattan Island. A large shipping and receiving complex dominated the land side of the facility, punctuated by half a dozen large, angular structures that resembled high-rise apartments. However, where in a high-rise there would have been windows instead were hangar bay doors. Into the Hudson River jutted four arms that each ended in a hangar pod shaped like an upside down beehive.
Planet Express sported hundreds of hangars, and all of them were in near constant use. The facility was in a flurry of activity as ships departed and arrived regularly from their deliveries. A large ship performed a close flyby of the balcony and caught Leela's attention. The massive space craft was one of her Mk 3 Heavy Freighters. It was based closely on Hubert Farnsworth's original design, except being three times the size and boasting a modular bay that could support 24 large cargo pods. Her engineers had just celebrated the completion the 50th of these freighters.
The rest of the craft buzzing about were the smaller Mk 2s. These ships were identical in outward appearance to the original Planet Express freighter, sporting the classic, triple tail-fin design that dated all the way back to the 20th century.
Leela sipped at her coffee, inhaling it's rejuvenating aroma.
Losing interest in the commonplace sight of her ships flying about, Leela turned her gaze inland toward the center of Manhattan. The view from her quarters was unique in that Planet Express was one of the tallest buildings on the edge of the island. Far taller buildings existed in the heart of the city, but they were all clustered close together and couldn't offer the unimpeded view that Leela enjoyed. The cyclops squinted her eye. Barely visible amongst the skyscrapers was the golden spire of the old MomCorp building, still imposing despite being dwarfed by newer structures.
The communicator on her wristmajig chimed. This early? It was Hermes Conrad, her longtime co-worker and second-in-command of Planet Express. The Jamaican bureaucrat had worked at Planet Express longer than anyone and had become a confidant and friend. She accepted the call. A smirk suppressed itself as she was greeted by the slightly ludicrous sight of Hermes's wrinkly face bouncing up and down in a jar, trying to keep in the frame of the camera.
Leela asked, "What is it Hermes? I still not quite awake yet."
"Leela, we got a problem," said Hermes.
Leela pouted. Usually Hermes teased her with some joke to snap her out of the "morning mopes" as he called it. It was the times when he was serious that she realized how much she relied on him to keep things light around here. Not this time. The tone in his voice sent Leela's mind into gear and she hardened. "What is it?"
"It's one of the Mk 3s," replied Hermes. "PES-232. She's comin' in faster than a green snake bein' chased by a angry gardener—and she's out of her designated glide path. Three of our Mk 2s had to divert out of her way already. Nobody's pickin' up the phone either."
"232? That's the newest one. Captain Jenkins in command, right?"
"Ya."
"I'll be right down."
Leela threw off her robe and quickly changed into her standard Planet Express captain's uniform, which included the usual black spandex pants, black boots and white turtleneck with the addition of a green Planet Express jacket the same color as her ships. She dashed into an elevator that took her straight down into the command center for Planet Express headquarters. It was a short ride as the command center was built into the middle of the sphere that topped the central tower. Her room was directly above it. She quickly pulled her light violet hair into her signature ponytail and secured it with a scrunchie. As the elevator reached it's destination she steeled herself to present the air of command.
The doors parted, revealing a room that would put some military warships to shame. Banks of computer screens formed concentric segmented circles radiating outward from a central platform where Hermes' head-in-a-jar bounced on a machine with a hopping shaft. The old bean counter had unfortunate bad luck when it came to decapitation. Unable to afford an expensive robotic body like Amy Wong, he had to endure the constant embarrassment of continuously hopping like a... what did they call it?
Pogo stick. Leela remembered now. That was the name of a similar device Fry had once described from his time. Fry. Deeply buried emotions threatened to gush to the surface... No. There's no time for that now. Leela pushed all thoughts of Fry from her mind and concentrated on the moment.
Large displays covered the walls arching up to the domed ceiling. Several showed departure and arrival times, others showed star charts and status reports for the complex. Her attention was immediately drawn to one that had the status and situation report of the errant freighter maximized to cover the whole screen. No fewer than twenty humans and aliens manned the consoles at all times and all were frantically chattering into microphones or to each other with reports. She pursed her lips in appreciation. After she had taken over Planet Express from that senile old fool Hubert, she had run it with military efficiency. The profits and success spoke for themselves.
"XO on deck," announced Walter Pressely, her aide. The backs of everyone in the room straightened measurably.
Leela nodded at him and then walked up behind Hermes. "Whats the situation?"
"Still no contact with the crew or the ships computer, Leela, and she's increased speed again," replied Hermes.
"How fast?"
"Well, someone bypassed the safeguards and her engines are runnin' at 233% power levels. She'll burn up soon at that rate, but not before hittin' us."
"What?" Leela's concern was quickly deteriorating in to worry.
"She's on a direct collision course with the dark matter reactor in sector 4."
"Get a scope trained on that bird and put it up on screen," Leela ordered.
A view of early morning sky appeared—out of focus for a moment—then the image sharpened to show the distinctive shape of a Mk 3 hauler closing fast. The hull was charred from entering the atmosphere at so steep of an angle that the shield couldn't take the pressure and heat.
Leela asked, "How much time do we have before she hits?"
A technician working the Traffic Control station replied, "At this rate, about three minutes."
Leela's mouth worked for a moment. Then she said, "Get the guns online, Hermes."
A few of the others in the room turned to look at her.
"Lets hope we don't have to use them," Leela said under her breath.
Hermes ordered a subordinate to activate the turret controls. From recessed and submerged casings, two towers appeared to spear out of the water. After they reached maximum height, large particle beam cannons emerged and rotated to train targeting lasers on the incoming bogey.
An idea occurred to Leela. "Hermes, see if you can tap into the wireless camera network on that ship. She might be close enough now to bypass the main computer and get a feed. Show me what's going on in there."
A Neptunian working the Communications console began to rapidly enter a series of commands. A dozen empty boxes—each representing one of the cameras on the ship—filled up another display to the left. The boxes were filled with pixelated static. Blurry shapes resolved beyond, but nothing identifiable.
Leela was losing patience. "Can you clean it up any?"
"I'm working on it," replied the tech.
Slowly, images of the ship's interior became visible. The tech balled a free fist and exclaimed, "You're a genius Leela, it works!"
"Don't get excited, just show me what's going on in the bridge."
One of the dozen frames highlighted white and then expanded to cover most of the screen. The other eleven camera views took up the sidelines. Several workers in the command center gasped. The crew was still alive. All five of the flight crew were present, but something was wrong. They were sitting awkwardly in their chairs, heads slumped forwards as if sleeping. Or drugged.
Time was running out. "See if you can use this same wireless channel to access the intercom system," Leela demanded. "Hurry!"
The technician's hands flew over the keyboard in front of her, sweat dripping off of her brow. "Got it!" She held up a headset in the air.
Leela yanked it from her hand and brought the mic up to her mouth. "Captain Jenkins! Can you hear me? This is Leela! Wake up!"
On the still fuzzy image, Captain Jenkins stirred. He blinked his eyes rapidly for a moment and then shook his head back and forth. All activity in the command center had come to a halt as everyone held their breath in anticipation. This made Leela's next words stand out all the more.
"Jenkins! This is Leela here. Report!"
"What? Who is? Uh, I don't... I... Leela?" His speech was slurred and incoherent.
"Snap out of it Jenkins! You're flying out of control!"
"Leela, you had better look at this," said Hermes. "Look what's in the cargo hold."
The view of the bridge shrunk until it was half size as another of the twelve camera views took place beside it. There were gasps in the command center yet again as all could easily make out the disturbingly familiar shape of a bomb.
"Zoom in on grid square F7," Leela ordered breathlessly.
The image jumped and a timer was visible. The timer read 1:03—the exact same time remaining until the ship impacted the building.
"If that hits the reactor..." Hermes trailed off. Nobody bothered to complete his sentence because everyone knew what would happen.
Leela looked over at a computer tech who was busy entering strings of commands into a keyboard. "Can you get control of the ship's flight computer yet?"
"No," answered the tech. There was strain in his voice. "I'm totally locked out. I've been trying to bypass the firewalls since first contact but they're too strong. I can't do it in time."
Leela clenched her teeth. She brought the microphone up to her mouth again. "Jenkins, she said. "Listen to me. You have less than a minute left before you crash. Do you understand me?"
A pause. "Yes," replied Jenkins.
"Can you reach the manual flight override switch?"
"Hold on. I... I can't! I'm tied to the chair!"
"Can you loosen the bonds?" Leela's knuckles were white as she gripped the handrail.
"They keep... getting tighter as I move. I can't... breathe!"
They heard Jenkins gasping for air over the intercom and then his head slumped forward as he lost consciousness again. Leela closed her eye and let out a deep breath she had been holding in.
"Shut off that feed," Leela ordered. The screen went blank. She felt the hearts of everyone in the room sink as they realized what was coming. She looked at Hermes. "You know what to do." Inside the jar, he nodded.
The main view switched back to the telescope, giving a wide, flat view of the water and the city beyond. The doomed ship was visible with no magnification now, streaking toward them just above the waterline like a cruise missile. A few in the command center reflexively backed away from the screen. Suddenly two intense violet beams speared out from beyond the edge of the image and connected with the ship aft, near the engine block. There was a dazzling flash of light as the dark matter engines fused and shut down. Without power to the gravity pumps, the ship fell like a rock and splashed into the water. Everyone in the command center held their collective breath for five seconds as the time to detonation readout ticked down to zero.
Not 2000 feet from the nearest hangar bay, the water violently surged upwards in a dome shape which then collapsed on itself, sending a plume of frothing water hundreds of feet into the air. A moment later, the building trembled as concussion waves traveling through the water reached the shore. The scene tilted up as the scope was knocked over from the blast, giving them a useless view of the sky.
Leela and the others abandoned their posts to rush over to the windows overlooking the complex. They surveyed the damage, which appeared to be minor. A massive wave of water had broken over the seawall and flooded the inner areas, but those had been evacuated. The plume of water had settled now, leaving behind a cloud of mist. It drifted in slowly from the river—driven by the ocean wind—and enveloped the complex. Red hazard lights, combined with the early morning sun gave the mist a red hue that reminded Leela of blood. The blood of her people.
Leela raised her balled fists and then brought them down upon the railing with enough force to bend it inwards. The rest of the command crew looked at her. She didn't lose her cool often in front of her people. The only sound in the room was of Hermes bouncing up and down.
"That ship had a crew of five," said Leela through teeth that were still clenched. She raised her hand in a salute, which the rest of the crew followed solemnly. Pressely motioned for everyone to go back to their posts and begin damage control operations. Hermes stayed close to Leela, near the windows. He knew that she was very upset, but he didn't try to console her. He knew her well enough by now to know that that would just further enrage her.
"That's the third ship we've lost under mysterious circumstances in a month," said Hermes in a subdued voice. Leela nodded absently.
Except this one was no mystery, Leela thought. This was a deliberate attack against Planet Express. Against me. She had made enemies in the corporate world over the years. Being a rising star put her in a threatening position for many of the long established delivery companies. But who would have the nerve and the resources to challenge me this directly? A sinking feeling started to well in the bottom of her gut as the pieces began to fall into place.
Hermes interrupted her reverie. "Leela, you have a new message coming in."
"Hermes, I'm not taking messages right now."
"I'm sorry, but it's stamped Highest Priority."
"Who's it from?"
"I don't know," replied the bureaucrat. "The machine is just giving me a scrambled number on the sender. It's printing out now."
Leela walked over to the fax-o-matic and ripped the letter from the stack. Even though everyone in the command center was on damage control, they secretly studied their leader for any sign as to what the message might say. She began to read:
Dear Turanga Leela,
Please be aware that you are cordially invited to our corporate offices in Manhattan for a meeting on the subject of a business arrangement that would be mutually beneficial for us both. We are prepared to make you an offer that you cannot resist. It would not be wise to ignore this invitation. The meeting is scheduled for two o' clock in the afternoon, today. Please arrive fifteen minutes early for processing. Thank you and have a nice day.
Signed,
Leela crumpled the paper into a ball, barely containing her fury. Her suspicions were confirmed. Everyone was staring at the cyclops now in expectant silence as the name escaped her lips in a hiss: "Mom."