Though they slapped hands for the safe, smooth return to HQ, the crew had to seethe once the target of their ire came into view. One who, between his anxious wait on the Widow's Walk and his happy shuffle to the docking controls, had left them hovering for a full half-hour.
Amy and Mayfield massaged their knuckles, he behind their backs, while Leela ignored his chipper greetings and pushed what remained of their dolly on the only spare left.
"Ahhhh, my splendid crew… Saw our business accounts fatten up; come and give me a hug!"
Far from feeling sentimental, Leela just parked the dolly near him, gripped a chunk of metal, and slammed it at his feet. The incredible clatter and clang had him stumble back, aghast before she hovered inches from his face.
"Screw your fake love! Time and again I've marked your damn logs, time and again I've told you of our dozens of urgent issues and potential disasters… Now look what else we've lost, you stubborn idiot!"
Oblivious, disdainful or nonchalant, The Professor was silent before Leela slammed another piece down. A growing pile of heavy-grade titanium scrap, as the crew went to take immediate cover.
"What, nothing to say this time? Newsflash, WE keep you in business, YOU certainly don't! And I have HAD it with your dumbass tinkering putting our lives in jeopardy."
After quite the rant to have her chuck the rest of her busted dolly down, she gave herself a moment to breathe. Raised heart rates aside, Farnsworth still stood, and looked anywhere else until she levelled her voice.
"Only forces unknown helped our delivery, so you'd best get on your knees and put your hands together. 'Cause I guarantee you, you won't be so lucky next time."
For him, only a dramatic shrug to give; notions of 'prayer' to a scientist like him were blasphemy.
"Ooooh, you're still here, aren't you? For all my creations over the years, I'll freeze Hell itself before I figure out your mood swings!"
Leela's arm reflexively bent back, a thought of slapping him flashing in her eye. Would've taken an Elzar-style notch of frustration out of her belt, but that might've killed him then & there. Instead, just her evil eye and a long cursing mutter, before she called Amy to come along and perform some checks.
Between the two, a small whisper from Captain to confidant. Even after returning home, those bad vibes hadn't settled; if anything, they still kindled and burnt well.
Meanwhile, still acting like a slithery snake, Mayfield had overheard the whole thing and crawled towards his big boss. That sudden switch didn't sit right, especially against such caring, if cut-throat, words.
"The hell was that, Prof? Far be it from me to comment, but maybe she has a point to consider?"
"Quiet, you! You'd best know your place, before I pick up that phone."
"My place? Listen here, you dried-up prune! You're a scientist, how 'bout a theory of sorts? Imagine when, not IF, your pride and joy just bellies up. Disappears! You think whoever buys the remnants will care for squatters? Shoot me out the cannon if you must, but I suggest that either way, get… your shit… TOGETHER!"
Slapped hands in palms to emphasise the final words, before he left to consider his adventure. Dodged both the invalid list and the morgue, thanks to his precious new find, but the costs continued to bother him.
Forget his career, relationships or chance at redemption; should Leela ever find out, he'd be lucky to remain alive. Crazy talk perhaps, but he had been there for way less.
In such thinking, and remembering his 'third way', he realised that he had to swallow his pride and apologise. Only the big boss could bring big visions to life, as he called out while his back had been turned.
Only found himself talking to an upraised hand: "Mayberry, now's not the time! My latest doomsday device demands my utmost attention; one wrong move and the entire planet will cease to be!"
"Professor, your lab is way over there, how could you…"
A turn-around as spit frothed from his lips: "I said NOT RIGHT NOW!"
"Ugh, okay whatever. Let me know when, okay? Fuckin' screwball."
The whole pretending gimmick had already grown tiresome as he crawled towards the lounge, lift and all, and found his own couch much too high to reach. Big hulking camera above his head, so looked like he'd sleep on cold tiles tonight.
But as he propped himself against the seat, he had to consider that recent adventure.
Couldn't have been coincidence that this performance enhancer, this literal life-saver, had laid in such an accessible safe. In fact, in perhaps giving his ultimate gratitude, this would've gone beyond ordinary money and company triumph, and into a territory reserved only for legends.
However, the thought of telling his Captain about how he dug about the safe might've soiled his underwear.
On one hand, Leela and her colleagues had done him such a world of favours, to lie to them now would've been irredeemable. On the other, in order to invest towards their absolute best of both worlds, lying might've been a necessity.
"Why not risk it all? Not like my last will's gonna read a mile long."
Decision made, he reached for the nearby remote and clicked through the channels, where the viewing 'pleasures' had him crinkle his mouth, eyes and nose. A better sight for sore eyes came when Amy entered.
"Hey Mayfield, what's on?" Then a stern, harsh murmur. "And by the way, quit the gasping."
"Oh, well, on the bright side, TV's the same now as in my day; mere car crashes, or Hindenburg disasters."
"It's the stuff you can't look away from, right? By the way, I've saved this for you."
His chest began to rise as she palmed her share of tips, the full two-fifty, into his hand.
"Um Amy, I never bet against you, and I'm not paying student loans here. So, what's this for?"
A smile and flashed thumbs-up. "A job well done. Nothing more or less."
"What do you mean?"
She gave a furtive glance, beckoned him close, and hushed up: "Call me crazy, but between you and me, you were that figure talking to the barkeep on our behalf. Hence the tips."
"What made you think that was me?"
"I can't prove it, but entertain this… Doesn't it seem suspicious that some speedy stranger saves our lives and business from out of nowhere? In what I daresay might be called a 'miracle'?"
"Okay, and how?"
"Leela declared your injuries fatal, and we saw no-one else on the planet the entire time. The both of us, we were out of options, out of luck, and out of our minds. Convinced now?"
Remembering their argument, Mayfield hung his head and gave a deep sigh. The truth had come out before the lie even began.
"Ahhh, no wonder you're a PhD in waiting. But you saw me on bridge that whole journey. Have you, in your life, ever known such happiness, such ruin, in so short a time? When that cream made a comic book legend out of me… Now, for this newfound power and all your favours, I'd do anything to help…"
"Guess it's no stretch to imagine that all this is rather personal for you, huh?"
"No kidding it's personal. Lord knows The Captain would kill me, even after she learns of my future plans. Broke a cardinal rule of hers, and I've been beaten down for way less."
"That makes sense, I guess."
"Here's the deal, see? That cream was there for a reason; whose, whatever or why, I don't know. But I'm hoping that the crimes I commit will sort out all our matters, both business and personal. While I figure out how, do me a solid and hush up, okay?"
At that moment Leela strode in, the conversation stopped dead as she began axing about what was on TV.
"What's old is new again; nothing but crap," he told her.
Chose to surf regardless, and had nothing but contemptible groans and sighs as he did. Finally, she stopped on the news of the day.
"Welcome to your Root 2 News afternoon update, Channel Surd for your grandpas. I'm Linda van Schoonhoven…"
"And I'm Morbo the Annihilator." came the deep, gruff voice after hers. "Tremble Earthlings, for I shall destroy you all!"
The top story that followed had concerned Mondayitis, a once-benign condition that these days would have the nation spring up in rashes, fever-dreams and weekend panic attacks. Almost 100% survival rates; the epidemic-in-waiting came from the growing lines at suicide booths.
"Humans hate Mondays, do they? When my people hear such information, you'll all beg for death!" Morbo could've torn the paper for how fast he scribbled.
Linda gave a clueless chuckle, before she turned to C. Everett Koop's head, her special guest and former U.S. Surgeon General. Many, many formers, that Mayfield might've recalled.
"Thank you Linda. Though it's been several centuries since I led public health matters, since I lost the case against my 'branded' cigars, I do hope you'll consider my warning. Should you show any symptoms, I urge you to speak to your doctor about being prescribed a cold cup of ready-mix cement."
As Mayfield erupted in laughter, Leela had a couple of cyclopean blinks, a small tilt of her head.
"Yeah, if these whiny jerks had my Mondays, hell most days of late…"
"Pssh, I can't ever imagine." Mayfield quipped. "So this is it, huh? We all wait around until the dope-in-charge or that stuck-up bureaucrat sends us somewhere else to kill us?"
Another curious tilt from The Captain: "Though we've had squat for deliveries lately, you said it. Great if you're lazy, not if you're trying to survive."
A nod of sympathy; Mayfield knew he'd been a bad day from being dead broke. Hell, if even his Captain struggled despite her majority share…
All the more reason to carry on his plans, as the sound of rumbling tummies had Leela hop off the couch.
"Say kid, how about a catch-up over lunch, maybe we could get to know each other?"
"You read my mind, lady,"—Mayfield smiled—"but where's a good place to chow down?"
Leela narrowed her eye for a split-second, before she rattled through options like the Food-O-Mat, Elzar's, and the various pizzerias, parlours, and buffets.
"Hey, let's not confuse the new kid now!" Amy butted in. "Myself personally, I've found the Food-O-Mat reliable, I'm sure he will too."
"Sounds good Amy, but first, I might go see Zoidberg for a moment."
He then crawled out, in constant gazes of dread. Amy already knew what happened aboard that cabin, and through her psychology, he was sure he'd just let Leela in on his act as well. Did tell Amy to hush up, but that WAS after she told him to quit gasping.
Tried to put such thoughts to bed, upon Zoidberg's greeting.
"Afternoon doc, how are you?"
"Doing just dandy, thank you. How can I help?"
"I need a favour more than help, per se. Take a seat, I'll tell you everything."
It took him a while to tell the story AND rouse Zoidberg awake, but in the end, he explained that he needed medication to explain away his broken spine and burst lungs, without anyone suspecting the cream. Complete with doctor's forms—insurance policies—to cover his ass.
Zoidberg gave a genuine smile, as he stabbed a red-and-blue syringe into Mayfield's arm, the same one that had helped him out so well after Leela's first assault. For Planet Express to have a box of them, they must've come standard. Heard no weird sounds as his form was signed, but thought nothing of it as he bounded down the lobby, to both the ladies' surprise.
He didn't know that, not just from a lack of listening, he had just made a crucial mistake…
¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)
In the precious seconds that the kid left the ladies behind, eager to take on this food journey, Leela whispered to Amy about her new plans. The gist of which was to keep him talking, just to be sure.
Inside the buffet-bearing bistro, as Leela paid $15 per head, Mayfield had to nod and thumb up for what he saw. Found a few people, snug in foam-stuffed green booths, all sat aside a large S-shaped conveyer belt. A first-come, first-pick ordeal, as cuisines from every culture to name kept moving forward. So many choices, so many meals to moisten his lips and beg for a seat.
Even for his greedy new hunger however, Mayfield had to side-eye his classic American burger and fries. Couldn't see it being cooked, was even cheaper than the burgers he knew (Inflation, what's that?) and he had never seen it presented so well.
"What the hell," he figured as he gripped with both hands, bent forward and bit in.
First the bun, a good start to remind him of nice, buttered bread. Got most condiments in his next bite; fresh from how sweet and juicy they'd proven. Finally, a go-for-broke chomp, where everything and the meat had melted in a myriad of tender, well-seasoned flavours inside his mouth. Could've shut his eyes in satisfaction, but then there were the fries…
Could've given him reasons to live; shoestrings salted just right, both golden & crunchy. A generous portion, all before those age-old favourite sauces.
"Oh man, that's good…" Mayfield eye-rolled, as he sipped a cola. "What a relief, that some things never change."
Didn't quite spot Leela's glare, nor heard her subtle growl as she picked at mashed potatoes, cut pieces of her plate-spanning T-Bone. In between bites, she took under-the-table scans of his recent medical form. Aside from who signed it, she couldn't quite nail why it left her squirming.
After a great swallow, the rookie spoke up: "So ladies, how's downtime for you besides this?"
Leela chewed her steak: "Well, whether hinted towards or harangued into it, adventure always finds me." A swallow, before she continued. "Other than that, it's either music, TV or reading."
"Music huh? How so?"
"Hover-Disk player, and plenty of albums."
"Sounds like some fancy-pants piece of tech to me."
"20th-century record player, 31st-century spin. Ugh, your word games again!"
"Heh-heh, whoops. But do you think I'd have ever imagined that? Though records made a comeback in my days, I literally had thousands of songs at my fingertips elsewhere. If only I could've shown why I never cared for them after that."
For several seconds, an awkward look-away: "Funny you mention that, actually. In better days, we once gathered to watch a supernova in action… Until a crewman microwaved popcorn and left the metal foil in. It's complicated, but it caught us in a time warp of all things. Frankly, I prefer it here."
A strong scent of brewed 'English Breakfast' wafted about as Amy poured; Mayfield had to clench his fists to stop himself from crying.
"Well aside from what you know already"—Amy began—"I try to make time for my boyfriend, or yes, even my parents sometimes. Simple Buggalo farmers who're too busy to visit, oh how I wish."
"Buggalo?"
"Yep, giant beetles that have cowskin-like shells. And believe it or not, their exact same meat is in your burger."
"Whoa, whoa, so I've been eating insect meat this entire time?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
The kid cradled his chin, a shaken head towards his burger: "To think I'd hear that and still call this a damn fine feed. The hell's happening to me?"
A small laugh for all, before Leela tried to probe into her charge's old life. Namely, how hopeless it became to have an ordinary delivery make him 'believe' again.
"Even for taking me in Captain, I can't forget how we met. Forgive me if I don't open up right away."
"Good Lord kid, how often must I say it?" she groaned. "Just don't invite reminders, it's that simple."
"The way I was wired, nothing's ever simple to me. Even now I question why you truly gave me that chance."
"Because for your complaints and my experiences, I envy and resent how easy you've had it. After how we were introduced, I knew I had to re-educate you. Consider Stumbos-4 your latest life lesson, of many to come."
"Not these life lessons again! But that's you and I in a nutshell, isn't it? One wants to have what they've always longed for, the other longs for what they always had."
"Alas kid, you have no idea. Consider this for a moment… Why do you think I dedicated my life towards my captaincy?"
"For a whole lot more than package delivery, I imagine."
"Right. After all"—she looked to the heavens—"how many planets could there be?"
A question for which neither had an answer, as Leela finished her steak plate and took two more to go. Their tummies full of tea and tasty meals, they soon strode out ready to return to work.
Mayfield now had another angle, another reason, to venture forth with his plans. If only he could move that doddery old dimwit away from doomsday projects... However, what he hadn't known was that Leela had given her share of evil eyes behind his back.
Now she knew for certain that, instead of having to dump his body, he had talked, breathed and walked right where she could see him. And that said nothing about the form he had given her; properly 'Zoidberged' despite the proper check-offs.
In the medical field, the equivalent of 'utterly FUBAR.'
Her own delivery boy had lied to her, and not even convincingly. She'd give him another chance, leave all this as a small footnote of sorts, but she knew she'd be keeping a much closer eye on him. Amy as her source had stung him good, now all she needed was surveillance and her own orders.
Whatever his plans were she, by every God she knew, would make him pay if they involved her insurance policy…