Even for an entire army watching their asses, the Planet Express crew cut no corners in insuring their lives, spending enough to bleed whole countries dry in trying to repair and reinforce their homes & ship.
For October's last week, and the start of November as well, most days and nights were spent holed up in a derelict warehouse, abandoned mall or elsewhere. Not even a dare to soak up the little sunshine to be had. No shopping & meals, no dancefloor spins, no pub crawls, no games… Just a sit & wait, only desires of revenge and occasional supply drops to push them forward.
As for who they sought penance from, he could only froth for the 'Cologne Plague' bearing his name. Of all times his 'small strides, great leaps' philosophy had to be exposed… Still, for how long he had prepared for the war to come, he was confident that victory was guaranteed.
After all, helping him along was Brannigan.
The true top brass had to sweep his actions aside; always were worse messes to clean. But as reinstated General, the first thing Zapp did was advertise to all personnel, that there were 'vacancies' for the title of Fourth Lieutenant.
A 'redemption' against Kif's blasphemy, and on paper, quite the incentive for the serious appeal to power. The reality though was that even the slackest-jawed men in his command knew better than to accept.
Instead, in perhaps the truest camaraderie yet, they pretended to 'spread' a sickness. Symptoms of coughs, bitten tongues and pursed cries of "Yes, sir", as they shared the footage of Kif's lashing, soon leaving bridge to tail of the Nimbus erupting in howls of laughter.
No better being to speak what they always wished to wax, than the creature he declared his 'perfect friend.'
Kif's reputation would elevate from deepest sympathy to highest esteem, while Zapp soon realised that for all his bribes, orders & threats, he couldn't wrestle the narrative back into his control. A situation to leave him beyond riled, while the Fourth Lieutenant cared nothing for such news.
Between his date ending and right up to now, he'd been spending sixteen-hour days to compile the intelligence briefs, damage reports and research proposals for their required budget. Aboard the Nimbus, he'd turn red for Zapp often spilling or scattering his papers, trying to re-establish his dominance.
More so when, to the surprise of none, Kif couldn't get his Captain's authority to take this to the White House. Even for being offered equal credit, Zapp just denied his eyes & ears, held a hand to Kif's face, and spoke aloud that his 'perfect friend' was dead to him.
"Oh thank you merciful God… Thank you Sir, for making me feel alive again." One could've sworn he almost did a jig, upon leaving bridge.
But of course, facing tens of billions who stood to die, Kif knew there was no point to a chain of command anymore. For as much about President Nixon as he had heard, surely he could appreciate that if Zapp was going to spend time causing problems, they'd together be the only men to perhaps solve them…
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Inside the historic comforts of the new White House, the head of President Nixon had been poring over the squares before him—another clue of many to mull over in his daily crossword.
"Let's see, once a nougat candy bar covered in chocolate, sold in several flavours…"
"Charleston Chew, sir?" a Secret Service head suggested.
"No thank you, I'm not hungry."
"I meant for the—"
"I said SHUT UP, DAMMIT!"
Pretended to take credit as he wrote the clue down, before his communicator paged him.
"Mr. President, there's a Kif Kroker here to see you? States he has a new proposal for our military budget?"
"Great, I've got to see that green shrimp-faced gremlin now? Whatever, send him in."
Between Nixon's frown and the burly-bodied agents eyeing every move, Kif stuttered forward, his thick dossier in hand. Took him ten years and a stranger's beating to condemn his Captain, but even for their better relationship by default, he hadn't a clue on how to convince the Commander-in-Chief.
Much bigger ball game; minor leagues to Galaxy Series playoffs. And right now, his first pitch…
"Mr. President, let me start by saying it humbles me for you to make some time. Concerning the immense stakes I believe we face, I didn't know who else I could turn to."
"Let me cut those dreams quick, little green man… Your Captain already called ahead, made it clear that you'd just waste my time giving some ridiculous proposal. You've got one chance to prove otherwise."
"Wait a minute, Zapp radioed ahead?!"
"And there it goes, I'll thank you for disrupting my crossword. Now make like me against Hubert Humphrey and beat it!"
"I'm sorry, who? Mr. President, I understand that a Captain's friendship means he'll taint your opinion of me, but I must insist that you listen."
"AROO, you scrubbed-up secretary, didn't you hear me the first time? If I wanted to save the world, I'd have called Zapp already. Whatever plans you have won't win me over, so for the last time,"—he began flapping his jowls—"Scccrrrrram!"
"That duplicitous dingbat… All due respect, Sir, he can't even shine your head let alone lead our Army. Hasn't done that since I started under his command. Now I strongly suggest that, for our planet and your leadership, you listen."
"Oh-ho, ordering me around, shrimpy? For the same boy I've seen scrubbing his Captain's gizmo, that takes quite the spine to—"
"Actually, I lack a spine, I'm supported—"
"Interrupt me again, and I'll send you back to your swamp in a jar! So after all I've seen, you really believe I'll listen to you?"
"I'd rather you read my briefs first; after that, you can make a choice."
Kif slammed his work down over the crossword, crushing it in dozens of pages of intelligence. Every event and sighting of that exceptional threat, truly among the gravest of armed forces they'd known since DOOP's founding.
Nixon got just a paragraph in before he argued that those documents carried no official bearing, before spinning a twisted pride about his Army. That since his election they'd always pleased the planet and DOOP at large.
"For someone so high up the ranks, Kroker, your lack of faith is of quite a concern."
"Mr. President, we can't afford the time to go through our official procedures, and how could I have faith when we pad our records with the blood of pacifists & retirees? Innocent, defenceless beings? Against virtually ANY opposition, we've lost EVERY battle under Zapp's leadership. And you're going to sit there and express pride in that?"
"Not like I'd argue our results, gremlin. Victory over the Killbots, a trillion-dollar silk surplus, a slathering of new planets conquered, and an entire nebulae or two vanquished from the stars!"
"Spoken from a guy who's rarely been there, of course you can't argue! Yes, we stopped the Killbots, but his scheme of sacrifice cost us trillions where they shouldn't have. Yes, the silk surplus gave us a great economic boost, but he sent the lot up in smoke, almost us in ashes, from fighting over some guest's cigar!"
"So what if he makes expensive mistakes? You're saying he can't replace those?"
"Unless you'd like to enlighten me, Sir…"
Though the President had some thoughts circle his jar, he turned face and crossed arms instead.
"I didn't think so. He expanded our territory by conquering the likes of Spheron-1, but they've all been devoid of strategic value or resources. He's slaughtered countless races, without bothering to ask questions about creating allies. It's high time you understood, Sir, that Zapp's always been a dangerous liability to our Army."
"I have heard enough! Agents, escort this green menace out at once."
"Escort me at the risk of your oath, Mr. President!"
"Well, intergalactic security was part of my oath… Was I under oath when I took it?"
Even through that green liquid, Kif saw Nixon sweat a little, and that's when he saw his chance.
"That'll be the least of your problems, Sir. In our critical hours now, the world will ask many questions, and I know what you'll answer for. Why did you advocate a military leader who does nothing, boasts conquests worth less than nothing, and yet has killed more men than COMBINED generations of DOOP commanders before him?"
Nixon's head stuttered for an answer, still stung by his 'oath', but was cut off.
"Why did you advocate a military leader who has cost us everything to date, from well-earned reputations to our diplomatic clout? Centuries of hard-won intergalactic relations, of careful negotiations, of trust and good faith… Now just rubble, and only the dust to show for it."
Kif could feel those eyes again, as Nixon's forehead salted further. Was allowed to resign from his last Presidency over a thousand years ago, wasn't sure they'd allow the same this time.
"Why have you advocated a military leader whose countless needs to pick fights, whose corpses of innocent millions lie at his feet, condemn the very vision and mission of our Democratic Order? A man who demands undying loyalty from everyone under him, yet smears their names the minute they predictably do so?"
"Now wait a minute, jelly-head, I was about to—"
"And all in just ten hopeless years. I've begged the question since we worked together, so answer me, Mr. President... What other excuse could you possibly allow to let him continue such a legacy? One that shall lie on your shoulders as well?"
Still stumbling for answers, Nixon glowed redder than rubies even against the hue of his preserving liquid. All he did do eventually was slam his extendable limbs on the desk, while Kif could only pinch his nose.
"Who are you to question your superiors, you Commie bastard? You've just made my list—Zapp will remain General, you'll get these birdcage-lining documents off my desk, and for such disobedience, I shall have you court-martialled, by God! Agents, escort him out, and don't be afraid to put him in line either."
"LET me have my day in court, if you're so confident!" Kif glared as he felt his arms bound. Don't you get it, Nixon? There'll be no commanders, courts, cities or countries to condemn me, PERIOD, unless you listen to me."
The agents were almost to the door when the headless clone of Agnew—Nixon's VP—burst right through, his arms in flails and voice in panicked growls.
"What is it, Agnew? We've run out of Charleston Chew?"
In frustrated groans, the monster clicked the remote and jerked towards the TV. Wall-to-wall coverage of super-soldiers in the dozens or hundreds; outright murdering civilians in broad daylight. Footage of a fully-clad Zookeeper, aired in between, who demanded an unobtainable amount of ransom money.
"AROOOOO, what in the crazy Commie hell are those?!"
"Do I have your attention now, President? Those documents I gave highlight everything about those fighters, their leader, and the way they came to be. From all the intel, I've every reason to believe that he's been forming a massive force, one to execute universal—not just Earth's—domination."
"I had no idea just how serious—"
"For how low my opinion of him stands, you think I'd have gone over Zapp's head in any other situation? Ever since I cleared the air he's become a bratty child, and so he's useless! Flap your jowls at me all you wish, but understand that our lives and your reign will be cut short if we don't act. So, I'll say it again, do I have your attention now?"
"Just tell me what you need, Lieutenant Kroker, and I'll sign the check immediately."
After that, the proposal was done and dusted inside the hour. Once Kif got the restraints taken off, he only requested funds to get them on equal ground, estimated in the realm of 11 figures. Showed Nixon the Miracle Cream, and made clear that such resources could create the means to counter Zookeeper's power advantage. Would've assured DOOP's personal funding, had it not been for Zapp's expensive messes.
Before long, a presidentially-sealed check of some $100 billion was in Kif's hand: "But this damn well better work, it's all we can afford!"
"Thank you Mr. President, I won't forget the help you've given our world today."
A bow of his head before Nixon waved him off, and it wasn't too long before Kif cashed that check and got straight to work…
"Time to play the role I was meant to play."
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Even for getting over his 'Maltesers' meltdown better than expected, Nixon had called Zapp personally to take a mandatory R&R, for new concerns had arose of recent behaviour. The real reasons were classified; Zapp hadn't a qualm letting Nixon know of his disdain.
Disdain to furious contempt, once he learned while that Kif, upon docking his flyer, was taking the reins.
"I'm the hero, dammit! Kif's a complete disaster waiting to happen!" Course, might've pitched his Big Book of War to the Gandhi Nebula, for all the good it did.
The go-ahead was approved, and Kif relayed his orders from orbit. The matter of Miracle Creams, first & foremost. For Bender's only friend left unscrewed, Dr. Beeler sprang into salute and got to work. Inside a couple of days, Leela had enough to sneak out under cover of work so she could send those crates express to the Nimbus.
Second, using that crate of miracles. After much discussion, priority had been placed on the Nimbus's training grounds & labs; build them quick to invent that counter weapon before war would be declared.
Third, the brainpower they'd require to complete this project. Luckily, for inflating their checks enough, they had signed not just the entire Academy of Inventors symposium, but also the Globetrotter people to help as well.
Ankle-breakers on the court, boundary-breakers in knowledge with any chance they got.
It'd be mid-November when DOOP would distribute among their men a glowing gold serum, and watch as they tossed vehicles, demolished brick walls and stood ground against hurricane winds.
Seeing those fantastic feats and more, all achieved in comfortable ease, Kif could only sport a proud grin before he relayed further orders to pick up the Planet Express crew. When they got to see for themselves, they could only clutch knees for the relief over their shoulders.
Leela soon led the applause, and clapped Kif's back: "All this inside a week or so? Gotta say Kif, you'll be a General in no time for this impressive work."
Kif was all for giving his small bows, continued pep talks and further training, until a voice broke out to stop him ice-cold.
"Especially mine. To turn our soldiers into supermen from just my subconscious… Not sure how this magnificent bastard did so, but that's why I'm the best Captain to grace DOOP's halls."
Defying his R&R order, and posing in his wrinkled red uniform, stood only the erect and proud Zapp Brannigan. Kif could only roll his eyes, the soldiers began staring daggers, the crew aired their protests, and Mayfield broke out into a mocking sing-song.
"Oh great, here he comes to save the day! Listen Captain Craven, we've been doing just fine without you, so make like your boozed-up bladder and PISS off."
"Correction, smart-mouth, I'm your General. And you all need one to lead you losers, none better than the greatest of all to do so. One who has only the undying loyalty of his men… Right, men?"
To his flashy smile and thumbs-up, only a graveyard silence, before a lone "Go to hell, dick!" broke out.
"Oh yeah, you sure have loyalty in spades friend. For sweet Christ's sake, get your delusions seen to!"
"Intend to or don't, express it or won't, force them or not, my men shall live and die by my code of loyalty. And I shall not have some big-mouthed scheming mutineer try to displace all that."
A hand behind his back in a reach for something, but whatever was planned had been nulled by a loud red alert. Private rushing headlong out of the bridge, struggling to catch their breath.
"Captain, we're getting overwhelmed with civilian casualty reports, and the Zookeeper has declared WAR!"
Everyone could only sprint for the bridge, hopeful that it'd be the only battle to worry about.