Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
Note: On word counts - For chapters where I've been unable to resist tweaking (not this one), the word count is for the original NaNoWriMo version, using the word processor I write with. Not sure where ff dot net get's it's word counts from but they never match mine.
Word Count: 3,386 (8 of 18)
They filed into a large room, and took seats at a large table, each sitting in the chair with their symbol. There were five other chairs with symbols around the table. On the wall at the head of the table were several video panels.
"Whose are those?" Santana asked.
"I don't know," Brittany said. There's only the four of us."
"Welcome," said their AI. The center panel at the front was covered in swirling colors as she talked. "This meeting has been called to assess preparedness for project YCTA."
"We're ready," Brittany said, the others echoing her.
"That is not your decision to make," a different voice said, as the panel to the left swirled.
"The Council believes additional planning time is required before a decision is made," a third voice said, this time lighting up the remain panel. "Why are there only four?" it asked.
"The full Nine are not required," the left voice said. "This is not an extinction level event, merely reclaiming an outpost that has fallen out of use."
"Why do we need any of the Nine for that?" the right voice said. "We can rebuild a simple outpost without them."
"The local situation requires familiarity with the culture and visible avatars," their AI said.
"But not the full Nine," the right voice said peevishly.
"We will return to reevaluate the plan," said the left voice. All three panels darkened, leaving them alone.
"What was that all about?" Quinn said.
"Planning is required," their AI said.
"Who are they," Santana asked, pointing at the empty chairs.
"That is irrelevant," the AI said. "Knowledge of the Nine will not assist in planning."
"Yes, but I would like to know also," Quinn said. "If we're part of the Nine, maybe we'll need whatever skills the other five possess."
Rachel coughed, catching the attention of the others. "I can tell you about the Nine," she said.
"Well, spit it out," Santana said.
"They are known as the Bolon Yokte Ku, the Nine Support Gods of the Underworld," Rachel said. "According to legend, they advised The People when they first ventured out into the Void thousands of years ago, before they split into the twelve clans. Each of the Nine was special in some way. There was the Memory, the Hands, the Shadow, and the Breath," she said pointing at each of them in turn. "There was also the Healer, the Weaver, the Teacher, the Mother, and the Peace."
"And in non-vague words?" Quinn asked. "Who were they really?"
"You all understand who the People are, correct?" Rachel asked. "They are the ancestors of our alien hosts. It's their language and culture that we've been learning. There were originally twelve clans who left their homes and traveled to other galaxies."
"Space Gypsies," Brittany said, excitedly.
"That's one way to look at them," Rachel said. "Except space can be a dangerous place so they had armies, and space navies to protect their people. Eventually, after wandering around for centuries, they attracted the attention of a sort of galactic empire, except not that organized. And this empire hired them as some kind of roving peacekeepers."
"What happened to them?" Santana asked, interested in spite of herself.
"They're still out there," Rachel said. "Each of the clans is responsible for protecting part of the empire."
"So, why aren't they here doing whatever the aliens want us to do?" Santana asked.
"No idea," Rachel said. "Unless it has something to do with the Lost People."
"Lost people?" Brittany asked, getting up and sitting in Santana's lap.
"At the very beginning, there were thirteen clans but they've lost one," Rachel said.
"How can you lose a clan," Santana said. "And that still doesn't explain the Nine."
"Each clan was led by a Council of Nine," Rachel said. "Those were the Nine, based on the old legends. The Memory was the record keeper, the memory of the people. The Hands was the head of the army, the Shadow was the head of the intelligence service, and the Breath was the head of each clan's space fleet," she said. "The rest? The Healer is obvious. The Weaver was in charge of clan business. The Teacher was in charge of training, the Mother was their religious leader, and the Peace is their internal peace keepers."
"I still don't get it," Santana said.
"Don't worry San, I do," Brittany said. "They need an army, a navy, spies, and someone to record everything we do."
"Oh," Santana said. "So, they want us to run a war? By ourselves?"
"Going to be a very short war," Quinn said, shaking her head.
"Are you going to explain it to us?" Brittany said, raising her voice. "We can't plan if we don't know what is really going on."
"Indeed," the AI said. "Your Santana is partially correct."
"Only partially?" Quinn said, laughing at the expression on her face.
"An ancient enemy is coming and your world is in its path and must defend itself," the AI said.
"And the four of us can stop them?" Rachel asked. "What about the clans? Isn't that what they do?"
"The twelve clans are unable to come to your assistance," the AI said.
"Too busy to answer the phone?" Santana asked snidely.
"They fight their own, similar battles against the Enemy," the AI said. "If they survive, they will come, but it has been projected that it will be too late. The closest would take a hundred of your years to travel here."
"That's a long way," Santana said. "So they're not even in the next galaxy over, are they?"
"Correct."
"What about your friends, the ones we just 'talked' to?" Brittany asked. "Can they help?"
"No," the AI said. "They are too distant to provide direct assistance."
"But they can tell us if our plan will work?"
"They must approve, yes."
"So, what's the plan?" Quinn asked. "What are our resources? Do we know anything about this enemy? How long do we have?"
"The Enemy shall reach this quadrant in a decade," the AI said. "All intelligence shall be made available."
"Plenty of time to build a fleet and train an army," Santana said. "All we need are factories to build things and troops. There wouldn't happen to be a shipyard here somewhere?"
"No."
"Where is here?" Rachel asked. "I don't think we were ever told."
"This facility has relocated to here," the AI said. The center panel lit up, showing a representation of their solar system. It zoomed in on a segment of space between Mars and Jupiter.
"That's a long way from home," Brittany said. "Why here?"
"Resources are available," the AI said. "Once the plan has been finalized."
"So, we can build ships?" Santana said.
"Correct."
"Who's going to fly them?"
"Your progeny," the AI said.
"Our what?"
"Descendants," the AI said. "Once the plan is approved, they will be grown in this facility and housed here until needed."
"I don't think I'm ready to be a mother," Rachel said faintly.
"You shall not physically grow them," the AI said. "Other methods will be used."
"Do we have time for that?" Quinn asked. "Shouldn't we be training people now?"
"This facility has been placed in a temporal bubble," the AI said. "There will be adequate time available."
"Nice to know, but we don't even have a plan yet!" Santana shouted. "Except you plan to grow people in vats! To fly machines we haven't built yet. Which is another detail. Who's doing the building?"
"This facility…" the AI began.
"This facility! Why do you need us? It does everything. I bet it sings too!" Santana said, shaking her head.
"This facility is not allowed to wage war," the AI said. "We can only assist. We can provide tools but cannot wield them."
"Well, that's stupid," Santana said. "You never answered. What is the plan?"
"The Lost Clan once inhabited your planet," the AI said. "We shall make use of their descendants."
"If they have descendants, why are they lost?" Brittany asked.
"They know nothing of their past," the AI said. "Our last contact with them was almost two thousand of your years ago."
"Show us," Quinn said.
The three panels changed. In the center the Earth appeared and gradually came closer. And closer, until it focused on vaguely familiar territory. In the other panels, stone buildings and carvings appeared.
"Where is that?" Rachel said.
"Mexico?" Santana blurted out. "The Lost Clan are the Aztecs?"
"San, that looks like Cancun. Remember? We went there last year to visit your uncle. And we saw some of the Mayan pyramids," Brittany said. "We can go to the beach!"
"You have Mayan ancestors?" Rachel asked, clearly surprised.
"What's it to you?" Santana said.
"One of my ancestors traveled to Mexico and brought back a Mayan princess," Rachel said. "He died mysteriously after she gave birth to twin daughters."
"Those princesses were very hardcore," Santana said, smirking. "They didn't like being kidnapped. I bet she did him in."
"You could be right," Rachel said. "She left a diary, but no one in the family can read it."
"If the Lost Clan is Mayan, and that's the language we're using now, I bet you can read it now," Brittany said. "We'll just have to get our hands on it," she added with a smile.
"All of you have Clan blood," the AI said. "It was one of the requirements. The learning pods only work with Clan."
"How's that possible?" Quinn said. "Nobody in my family has ever said anything about ancestors from there."
"You mean, how did your white ass Puritan ancestors get some Mayan booty?" Santana said, laughing. "Wasn't one of your great grandfathers one of those robber barons? I bet the maid did it."
"Well, we can't ask now, can we," Quinn said grumpily. "Unless someone can do a family tree like they do in Harry Potter."
"What about Brittany?" Rachel asked. "Are we all related?"
"I don't have any Mayan ancestors," Brittany said.
"How can you be so sure," Santana asked. "Artie says we all have Clan ancestors."
"Artie?" Rachel said, scrunching up her nose.
"AI RT. Artie. Just go with it shorty. If she won't tell us her name we have to call her something," Santana said.
"Artie is… acceptable," the AI said. "For now."
"See?" Santana smirked. "Answer the question Brit. How do you know?"
"Um…" Brittany looked at the others. "Well…"
"Just spit it out," Santana said, reaching across the table to take her hand.
"My parents weren't exactly from Earth," Brittany said, nervously squeezing her girlfriend's hand. "Sorry."
"I've met your parents, Brit," Santana said. "They might be a little weird, like hippy weird, but they seemed ordinary to me."
"You've never actually met my parents," Brittany said. "Those are my guardians. My parents died in an accident when I was really little, before you met me."
"That sucks," Santana said, pulling her over into a hug and a long kiss.
"Ewww!" Rachel said, before giggling at them.
"Can we keep the PDA's in the bedroom?" Quinn asked, blushing. Santana stuck her tongue out at her.
"Just because you aren't getting any, doesn't mean we can't," Santana said.
"So, your parents were from one of the other clans?" Rachel asked excitedly.
"I guess. My guardians never said anything about that," Brittany said.
"And the plan is?" Quinn asked, sounding slightly frustrated. "Artie?"
"You establish a presence here," she said, highlighting a large portion of Mexico.
"Why do we need to do that?" Santana asked. "Assuming we can even build a base, why not put it somewhere else, like on Mars or the moon?"
"Diplomatic protocol. And the area currently has a strong clan presence that needs to be re-educated and reintegrated."
"Won't they object?" Quinn asked.
"Is this about the Return?" Rachel asked at the same time.
"Correct," Artie said. "The Lost Clan have legends that the Bolon Yokte Ku will return. We shall make use of that."
"Mayans, Mayans, mayans…" Quinn muttered. "What year is it, out there?"
"In your terminology it is 2012," Artie said. "The year of the Galactic Alignment."
"You know a lot about our world," Brittany said.
"We have been observing it for a number of your years," Artie said, sounding smug.
"So, why weren't you getting ready for this invasion before this?"
"The Enemy's path was unknown until recently," Artie said. "The Lost Clan was rediscovered many of your decades ago."
"And you were just sitting on this information?" Quinn asked.
"Sitting?"
"You knew and weren't doing anything about it?"
"We do not have the authority to interfere with one of the clans except in an emergency," Artie said.
"You aren't actually part of the Clans, are you?" Brittany asked, putting together everything she'd learned.
"Correct."
"Who are you then?" Brittany asked. "Who do you work for. Can we trust you?"
"I am the local representative of the Neo-Pan-Galactic Confederation," Artie said. "We merely observe."
"But you're not just observing," Rachel said. "You are providing aid."
"Under limited situations," Artie said. "The rules are complex. All instances of direct intervention must be approved in advance."
"So, let's make a good plan. What do we need to do?" Quinn asked.
"You will need several plans," Artie said. "In order - One - You must have a plan to create your forces. Two - A plan to secure the Lost Clan lands. Three - You must integrate the Lost Clan descendants into your forces. Finally, you must prepare for the Enemy and have a plan to defeat them."
"Do we have to do all of this now?" Santana asked. "Do we know enough?"
"Not even close," Brittany said, looking at her tablet. "I think we need to work on our occupation forces for Mexico. And I can't believe I just said that," she said, giggling.
"Not all of Mexico," Quinn said. "Shouldn't we just pick part of it? Bite it off in a smaller chunk? Artie, can you show us a map that shows where the Lost Clan descendants are concentrated?"
"Of course," Artie said.
"Really?" Rachel said. "How?"
"There is scanning equipment available in orbit. It will take several hours to generate a complete scan. Do I have your permission?"
"Sounds very Star Trek-ish. Go for it," Brittany said. "Is that how you found us?"
"In essence. Your profile stood out as Clan but not Lost Clan. Further research indicated the existence of non-local technology," Artie said. "And the presence of Lost Clan descendants in your vicinity."
"Sorry, guys," Brittany said, blushing.
"There was no way for you to know," Rachel said, glaring at the others. "I miss my Dads but maybe we can figure out some way to see our families when this is over."
"Brit, I haven't had so much fun, except for our sexy times, in ages," Santana said, blushing. "Not too happy at the whole family thinking we're dead thing but I wouldn't miss this."
"I didn't get along with my parents, and my sister moved out years ago," Quinn said. "I'd rather be here."
"Guys?" Brittany said, looking at her notes from past simulations.
"Yeah?"
"Once we know the where, we need to decide the when, unless that is already decided. Artie?"
"The best date has been determined to be December 21st, 2012, by your calendar."
"Why does that sound familiar?" Quinn asked.
"Because you made us watch all those apocalypse shows on cable?" Santana said, grimacing. "It's the Mayan apocalypse."
Rachel giggled, and Brittany joined her.
"Oh!" Quinn said. "I guess we're going to make it come true. Sort of."
"Ya think?" Santana said. "We're gonna be a cliche."
"That wasn't the reason, was it?" Brittany said. "Artie?"
"There are forecasts for solar storms and possible seismic events in that area around that time," Artie said. "The social disarray and effects on local communication systems make it an ideal time to establish a foothold in the area."
"And all of the idiots camped out on old Mayan pyramids and temples?" Santana asked. "What do we do about them?"
"Planning," Artie said. "Your plan must account for all possible movements of persons in the area in question."
"And we need to take into account the reactions from the national players in the area," Brittany said. "Mexico isn't going to be too happy with us."
"Our government won't like it either. Or Cuba," Quinn said. "In fact, everyone is going to hate us."
"Except the same idiots waiting for an apocalypse," Santana said. "The ones waiting for aliens to save them from their boring lives are gonna love us."
"We'll have to put up some kind of quarantine to keep everyone out," Quinn said.
"What if people want to leave?" Rachel asked. "Won't there be a lot of people in the area we plan to claim for the Lost Clan?"
"Just a sec," Brittany murmured. "It really depends on how much space we need. Artie? In your research on reconstituting the Lost Clan, which we really need a better name for, how big an area did you consider?"
"This," Artie said. Looking up at the map of Mexico, they could see a section highlighted. "Your maps call it the Yucatan Peninsula."
"Yes! We do get to keep Cancun," Brittany said, getting up and dancing around the room. Her second time around she tried to take Santana with her but ended up in her lap.
"That's a lot of land," Quinn said. "How many people live there?"
"A couple million," Brittany said. "A little less after the tourists leave."
"And we're going to occupy it," Rachel said, gaping at the others. "The four of us?"
"Rachel, we'll have an army before we do that," Brittany said. "San will have her space ships, Quinn will have her army, and you'll keep people happy with tales of heroic ancestors to go with my propaganda machine. It'll work out."
"I hope you're correct," Rachel said, standing up. "Can we take a break? I need a break."
"Sure. We have plenty of time to work things out," Brittany said.
"Do you think she'll be alright?" Quinn asked, after watching Rachel leave the room.
"She'll be fine," Brittany said. "She's just in shock. She doesn't have our training. Things like this are way outside her comfort zone."
"Should we continue without her?" Quinn asked.
"And have to listen to her complain about things because she wasn't part of the planning process?" Santana asked. "Do you want to risk that?"
"No."
"Nope."
"The Memory is fulfilling an important part of her role," Artie said. "She brings perspective, moderation, and insight into the minds of the Clan."
"Artie, that's Rachel, not 'The Memory'. She doesn't like being called a thing."
"Of course," Artie said. "Is it still correct to say 'The Quinn'? Or 'Your Santana' ?"
"It's just Quinn," Quinn said, shaking her head at Santana, who was laughing at her, her face buried in Brittany's hair.
"When speaking with the others, it's just 'Santana'," Brittany said, blushing.
"I like being 'Your Santana'," Santana said. "It's the truth."
"But Artie doesn't need to call you that. And what about your fleet people, space sailors, when you get them. What are they going to call you?"
"Boss?" Santana said.
"Pain in the Ass," Quinn said. "Pita for short."
"HBIC," Santana said. "I'm a gonna be Head Bitch In Charge."
"Says who?" Quinn asked.
"Your Marines are part of my fleet," Santana said. "So you work for me. And Brit is my Intel Officer, of course."
"I don't think it works that way," Quinn said, frowning.
"No, it doesn't," Brittany said, firmly.
"Brit!" Santana said. "I should be in charge."
"We work together," Brittany said. "But we make it look like Rachel is in charge."
"What?"
"Why?" Quinn asked.
"Because she's a better actress," Brittany said. "And everyone needs to believe we're real. And she won't try to boss everyone around like you would."
"We're gonna be real," Santana said. "As soon as we build my ships."
"You'll see what I mean," Brittany said. "They won't want to mess with us because of your ships and Quinn's army but they'll talk with us because of Rachel."
"And what will you be doing?" Quinn asked her.
"Sneaking around behind their backs, picking their pockets," Brittany said, with a smirk. "They'll never see us coming."
Next: Not-so Cloning around.