The next day wasn't Leela's day either.
"I just don't get it," Bender complained. "Why can't I go with you and Delta to Omicron Perseii VIII?"
"Like I've told you seven times already," said Leela with a patronizing glare, "the professor and I talked it over and decided that Delta may be distracted from her training if we take men or man-like robots with us."
"What about Amy?" said Bender. "She needs more training. Why isn't she going?"
"Amy's staying here to help Kif plan for the rescue mission," Leela explained. Behind her, Amy lugged a pot of steaming Venusian coffee into the lounge and set about to pour a saucer full for Kif. The green alien was hunched over on the couch, his chin in his hands, his pupils rolled back into his head, his brain deep in thought.
"I just don't get it," Bender repeated himself. "Why can't I go with you and Delta to Omicron Perseii VIII?"
"Because you're not really interested in the delivery," said Leela as she pulled the lever to bring down the ship's boarding ramp. "You just want to spoon Delta some more." She sighed bitterly. Finally, I won't have to listen to the beeps and whizzes of constant robot lovemaking from the next room over.
The clip-clip-clip of mincing footsteps alerted them that Delta the robot had arrived. "Reporting for duty, Captain Turanga," she announced with a quick salute.
"That's Captain Leela to you," said the cyclops peevishly. "You're not on a first-name basis with me yet."
"What's that on your arm, sweet cheeks?" Bender inquired of the fembot.
Delta held up her wrist, showing him the new device that had been attached. "It's a wrist console like Leela's. Now we can communicate no matter where we are on the ship."
"I usually just shout," said Bender. "Say, shouldn't you be wearing a uniform or something, now that you're a member of the crew?"
"What, are you offended by the sight of my naked body?" Delta giggled vapidly.
"I don't know what it is about her that you find attractive, Bender," said Leela. "She's not even anatomically correct."
"It's a robot thing," said Bender. "You wouldn't understand." He leaned over to plant a farewell kiss on Delta's tinny lips, and sparks literally flew from their eyes.
"Let's go, cadet," said Leela, rudely yanking Delta away from her lover by the clammy shoulder. Gesturing toward the entryway to the Planet Express ship, she stated, "This is the boarding ramp. This lever makes it go up and…"
"I know what a boarding ramp is, Captain Leela," said Delta.
"Why don't you show her your boarding ramp?" Bender suggested.
"All right, then," said Leela flatly. "Since you obviously know how to board the ship, let's get started."
On the bridge of the tiny delivery ship, Leela pulled the seat harness over her shoulders in preparation for takeoff. Delta, while taking the same action in the copilot's chair, said, "I apologize for interrupting you, sir."
Leela yanked on the belt around her waist to make sure it was well-tightened. "You don't have to call me sir," she said, her annoyed tone fading. "We're not in the military. I'm not allowed in the military."
"A pity, sir," said Delta in her usual emotionless manner. "Personally, I think Nixon should look for a way to integrate mutants into society, rather than hide them in the sewers and pretend they don't exist."
Leela's eye lit up. "You actually have an opinion on something," she remarked. "I'm impressed."
"Several members of Nixon's cabinet feel the same way," Delta told her. "They told me so while I was sleeping with them."
Leela groaned, reached for the ignition switch, and started up the ship's dark-matter engine.
Fry and Bender watched the liftoff from outside the docking-bay window. "There goes the only female I ever truly lusted after," said Bender dolefully.
Fry didn't respond, but only stared at his feet.
"What's eatin' ya, buddy?" said Bender with concern.
The young redhead stuck his hands in his pockets. "I don't want Leela to leave," he lamented with a shake of his head.
"She'll only be gone for a day and a half," said Bender, "which amounts to 150 years in robot time. So don't whine to me about your problems."
"But once she gets back, she'll have to move in with her parents," said Fry. "Down in the sewers, with the intelligent giant rats and the pits of toxic sludge, which are also intelligent."
"Don't worry about a thing, fryboy," said his robotic friend. "Bender the Magnificent has a failsafe plan that will solve all our problems, and make me a bundle of money in the process."
"Really?" Fry grinned expectantly. "What's the plan? And remember, once you tell me, I'm officially your partner, and you have to split the money with me."
"Sure, pal," said Bender. "I'll split it with you three ways."
As they sailed through a transit tube high above the snarled traffic of New New York City, Bender revealed the first detail of his plan to Fry. "It takes money to make money, so the first step is to beg some cash off a good friend of mine."
"Uh, isn't that a little bit like…borrowing?" said Fry.
"Yeah, it is," Bender admitted. "But don't worry. I can always count on Don for flexible terms."
"His name's Don?" Fry mused. "Well, with a name like that, he can't be bad."
The tube dropped them onto the sidewalk in a cramped, rundown neighborhood. Before Fry could gain his bearings, Bender seized his hand and pulled him along. "There's no time to lose," the robot stated. "Don's a great guy, but he doesn't like to be kept waiting, even when he isn't expecting someone."
Fry gulped—there was something sinisterly familiar about his surroundings. On the left side of the cracked street stood a row of restaurants—Vinny's, Fredo's, Carmine's. On the right he saw a shack-like shop whose banner bore the message, MONEY LAUNDERED WHILE-U-WAIT.
"Hold up, Bender," he said nervously. "This place gives me the willies. It reminds me of those old 20th-century movies with the men in fancy suits and the drive-by shootings and the cars blowing up. Westerns."
Bender dragged him along until they descended a rickety staircase into a darkened bar. The stools were filled by sick-looking robots who periodically let out fiery belches. The smell of smoke and spilled motor oil caused Fry's throat to constrict. It's like one of those old-time saloons, he thought. What's he gonna do, take out a loan from Clint Eastwood?
Around one of the tables sat a fearsome-looking trio—an imposingly overweight robot in the center, a tall, stocky one on the left, and a shorter 'bot with vise-like hands to the right. Fry's heart plummeted as he realized that the mysterious Don to whom Bender had referred was, in fact, the head of the Robot Mafia.
This is the craziest thing I've ever done, thought Leela, and I auditioned for Siegfried Idol once.
Empty space flew continuously past her. She hadn't brought any magazines or crossword puzzle books, so there was nothing for her to do except pretend to pay attention to Delta's ramblings.
"'But I'm just a head,' he told me. 'That's not a problem,' I told him. 'We don't need to have sex. If you like, I can throw your jar up into the air and catch it as it comes down.' 'That sounds like fun,' he said. So I threw him up and I caught him, and I did that two hundred times, and it made him dizzy, but he laughed like a little child. Then I stuck his head on my shoulder, and we walked around together, and pretended that I was his body, and he talked about how sexy he looked…"
"Uh-huh," said Leela, nodding drowsily.
"I'm boring you," said Delta apologetically. "If you like, I'll stop talking and stare at the instruments for a while."
"I'd like that," said Leela.
The fembot trained her ruby-like eyes on the console. Moments later, she turned to Leela and spoke in an urgent tone. "There's been a change in the ship's course. We're no longer heading in the direction of Omicron Perseii VIII. It must be my mistake. I'm very sorry."
Leela shook her head. "No, Delta. I'm responsible for the course change."
Startled, Delta glanced at the instruments again. "Our current course will take us into the heart of the Cerulean Nebula," she observed.
Leela set her lips firmly together, reached down to take her laser pistol from its holster, and aimed the weapon's barrel at Delta's well-endowed chest.
"Am I to be executed?" said the robot with slightly more emotion than before.
"No," Leela replied coldly. "You're to become a pirate. We're defecting."
To be continued