Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Word Count: 5,109 (14 of 18)

"What are you up to, Brittany?" Quinn said to herself, watching her run off to rejoin her team. "Artie, did you catch what she said to that one woman?"

"I was unable to listen," Artie said.

"How is that even possible?" Quinn asked. "You hear everything we say, even if we tell you not to listen. And don't bother denying it."

"All hard suits worn by the Shadow and her assistants are specially modified to her specifications," Artie said.

"Which includes the ability to have a truly private conversation?" Quinn asked, as she watched the priestesses disappear into the jungle.

"Correct," Artie said.

"It's a good thing Brittany is one of us," Quinn muttered.

"Affirmative," Artie said. "I suspect her training as a child included a number of useful skills of a specialized nature that only she is aware of."

"Do we know what her parents were doing on Earth before they died?" Quinn asked. "Something for one of the Clans?"

"Without interrogating her guardians, all we have is speculation," Artie said. "Some of her descendants show signs of similar abilities but do not have complete access."

"So, there's no way to duplicate her abilities," Quinn muttered. "Just like Rachel's abilities as the Memory belong only to her, even if we have a number of her descendants who are able to apply the genetic component of her skills to another area."

"Correct."

"If I asked you if the same applies for myself or Santana, that we possess skills and abilities that no one else has, tied to some genetic origin that manifests in a different way in our descendants, what would you tell me?" Quinn asked, curious, even as she continued to monitor the progress of her teams.

"Insufficient data," Artie said. "The mechanism that is behind this genetic behavior is still unknown."

"A 'No Idea' would have sufficed," Quinn said, sighing. "Brittany?" she said switching back to Brittany's channel.

"Yes?"

"What kind of progress have you made with our unwanted guests?" Quinn asked.

"The spies or the guys with the berets," Brittany asked. "The berets were being difficult but we've got them cornered. No shooting yet."

"Spies?" Quinn said. "We have spies?"

"Clever ones," Brittany said. "They're in our custody now. Do you want to meet them?"

"Yes, where are you?"

"Twenty clicks down the road," Brittany said. "Old temple. You can't miss it."

"Okay, I'll be right there," Quinn said. Turning to Pin, she said "I need to check on one of Lady Shadow's special projects. I should be back in an hour."

"Please take Pip and Squeak with you," Pin said.

"I can take care of myself," Quinn said, objecting to having a protection detail of her own.

"You know that isn't the reason for their presence," Pin said. "I have no desire to face the others of the Nine if something happens to you."

"You know Lady Air would just growl at you for a minute, after she finished yelling at me for getting myself killed," Quinn said, attempting to add a little humor to the situation.

"Lady Air doesn't scare me," Pin said. "She's military, like us. She knows how we do things. But the Memory? She can be scary."

"Yeah, she can get out of hand when one of our plan falls apart. Okay. But we won't be gone long."

"Famous last words, Quinn?" Rachel spoke in her ear. "Or just tempting fate?"

"Have you been listening the whole time?" Quinn asked.

"You didn't tell me to stop," Rachel murmured. "What do you think Brittany is planning?"

"Something for Santana," Quinn said. "She seemed awful chummy with Santana's mother."

"Well, Santana's family will soon know she's alive, and Brittany's guardians know about us, according to her. What about your parents? Or mine?"

"Mine? Won't care, I was just the spare," Quinn said. "Your parents? All you have to do is worry about how Brittany is going to spring them on you."

"I hope they aren't prone to heart attacks," Rachel said. "They are getting older. I would much prefer them to be alive." Quinn was grateful that Rachel didn't follow up on her comments about her own parents. You couldn't explain Fabrays, you had to experience them in all their psychotic glory.

"Well, start thinking about how you're going to explain your current lifestyle to them when you meet up with them in a few week," Quinn said.

"I've been thinking about that since we were kidnapped," Rachel said.

"Good!"

"Not what I expected," Quinn said, looking at the bedraggled women sitting in a group on the ground. "What exactly was their reason for being here?"

"Well, they weren't sharing hair care tips," Brittany said, dumping a bag on the ground, revealing an exotic collection of electronics.

"Weapons?" Quinn asked, out of the corner of her eye catching one of the women wincing as the jumbled up pile of things hit the ground.

"Standard issue for a secret protection detail," Brittany said, holding open another, larger bag, though she didn't dump the contents on the ground. It contained a number of pistols, several mini-machine guns, and several stilettos.

"Ideas?"

"One of my girls is looking through their laptops and phones now," Brittany said. "One of them seems to speak a little Clan speech." She pointed at one of the women, separated from the others.

"Not surprising," Quinn said. "Any reason why she's getting special treatment?"

"Felt like confusing them," Brittany said, her amusement clear in her voice.

"You're going to make me talk with them, aren't you," Quinn said.

"You're Field Commander on this little jaunt," Brittany said. "Of course you get the interrogation fun-times."

"Gee, thanks," Quinn said. "Do we want them to see our faces yet?"

"Your choice. They aren't exactly the neanderthal types like the berets. We can keep them longer if you want. San is sending down a shuttle tonight. And if they see us, they'll be confused, which might be good."

"Why would we confuse them?" Quinn asked.

"We don't exactly look native, what with the whole blonde thing. Though they might think this is a joke." Brittany giggled.

"Let's use our little 'interpreter'," Quinn said.

"Clever idea," Brittany said, nodding. Going over to the the woman off to the side, she spoke briefly, gesturing towards the others.

"Keep your helmets on," Quinn told Pip and Squeak. "And Clan speak only."

"Yes, Ma'am," they said.

Quinn strode over to the women, flanked by her escorts. She gestured towards the one they'd designated interpreter, pointing at a spot to her side. Once everyone was where she wanted them, Quinn told her suit to retract her helmet. Once it was gone, she shook her head to get rid of the inevitable helmet hair, ignoring the surprised gasps of the women.

"Which one of you is in charge?" she asked in Clan speach. The 'interpreter' hesitantly repeated her question in English.

"I am," an older woman said, standing up. "Who are you?" she demanded. The 'interpreter' repeated her words in crude Clan speach.

"Why are you here, on our lands," Quinn said.

"We are tourists," the woman said. "Why are you holding us?"

"You are not one of these 'tourists'," Quinn said, raising her eyebrow. "Unless tourist is your people's word for 'spy'?" She pointed at the pile of equipment on the ground and waited while the 'interpreter' struggled with her words.

"We are tourists," the woman insisted. "Not spies."

"No matter," Quinn said, shaking her head. "You shall be kept here until you tell us the truth."

"I need to call our embassy," the woman said quickly.

"They are unavailable," Quinn said. "If you wish us to pass a message to your government, that can be arranged." Turning to Brittany, she said, "Could someone get them a stylus and tablet?"

"Thank you," the woman said, looking relieved.

Quinn nodded at her, before reactivating her helmet. "Hey Brit, how far do you want to take these games with these people?"

"We don't want them to get too angry, so not much further. Why?" Brittany asked.

"When she finishes that message..." Quinn started.

"Which will probably have some coded message in it?"

"Yes," Quinn agreed. "Translate it into Clan speech after you've decrypted it and send the translation."

"That's amusing, in a quirky, cruel way," Brittany said. "I think I like it."

[In the American embassy in Cancun - an emergency meeting]

"Have we been able to get through?" the ambassador asked, looking at his Chief of Staff.

"No," she said. "All communication to the outside is cut off."

"So, who can we talk to?" the ambassador asked.

"Anyone inside of this area," she said, pointing at a huge map on the wall. "There appears to be some sort of invisible wall."

"A wall. Can we get a helicopter up to take a look at it?"

"No, the airports are all closed," she said, putting red X's on all of the airports.

"Closed by who?" the ambassador asked. "The Mexican government? The local governments? Some gang? Who?"

"The governors were all at a meeting in Mexico City," his Chief of Staff said. "Their offices haven't been able to contact them."

"Of course not," the ambassador said in disgust. "Have we checked with the other consulates and embassies? Is anyone in communication with anyone outside of this area?"

"They are all having the same problem," she said. "In this zone we have over two million people. Cell phones work, radios work, landlines work. But only within this zone."

"So, someone hacked the entire communication system of an area of over eighty thousand square kilometers? In Mexico. So only people inside this invisible wall can talk to each other?"

"Satellite communications are also down," she said, wincing at his red face. "And the internet is being blocked."

"Of course they are. Do we have any idea what is going on?"

"No sir," she said. There was an abrupt knock on the door, interrupting an immanent verbal explosion.

"Ambassador, you need to come see this," his Head of Security said, sticking his head into the room.

The Ambassador and his Chief of Staff followed him down the hall to the teleconference room. It was filled with the rest of his staff. On the large screen, that dominated the room, was a strange sight, straight out of a Hollywood movie, the ambassador thought.

Sitting in a fancy chair, and surrounded by women dressed in what could be uniforms of some sort, was a woman, also dressed in what appeared to be a uniform, wearing a mask. Standing next to her was another woman in a mask, though she was wearing a very colorful dress, that the ambassador thought looked familiar.

On several screens behind them were unexpected scenes, one of the moon, and the other a satellite shot of North America, with the Yucatan peninsula, though, covered in a large silver dome.

They were speaking in an unfamiliar language. This lasted for ten minutes before it began to repeat.

"Does anyone have any idea what that was?" the ambassador asked. "What is that language?"

"It's playing on all of the video channels," his Security chief said. "It's Mayan, according to one of the cooks."

"A cook?" the ambassador shouted. "Did he provide a translation?"

"No. He said he couldn't understand it, he just recognized it."

"Do we have anyone we trust who CAN translate it for us?"

"Yes," he said nervously.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" the ambassador shouted.

"She's on special assignment," his Security chief said. "She's out in the field with Agent Schultz."

"Well, get her back!"

"They aren't answering their radio or phones," he said.

"Why am I not surprised?" the ambassador said, shaking his head in disgust. "Send someone after her. We need to know what this is about," the ambassador said. "Or find someone who can translate this! Half the population are descended from the Mayans. Someone must still speak their damn language!"

"So, Brittany's bugged all of the embassies in the Zone?" Rachel asked.

"Yup," Santana said. "Some pretty fucking clueless diplomats in most of them."

"You just like making fun of them," Rachel said. "Was there any positive reaction to your speech?"

"The ones who found someone to translate it don't believe us," Santana said. "And the Lost Clan descendants are keeping quiet. My mother and cousin spread the word like we thought they would. They aren't going to spill any secrets until they hear our sales pitch."

"Did you know that your cousin was a High Priestess of the Lost Clan?" Rachel said, nodding.

"No, though I should have noticed that my mother was doing something when she visited my aunts and uncles," Santana said. "I can't believe I missed all those clues!"

"Have you talked with her yet?" Rachel asked, leaning back in her chair.

"No. I'll have a little chat with her after she meets with the Nine," Santana said.

"Oh," Rachel said. "When do you think things will have settled down enough?"

"Enough for you to go look for your parents?" Santana asked.

"Yes."

"Brittany's keeping an eye out. She'll let us know when it's safe," Santana said. "Just let her do her job. She's really good at it. And I'm not just saying it..."

"As her girlfriend. We all know," Rachel said, smirking.

"Quinn wants to use those spy babes Brittany found wandering around in the jungle," Santana said. "Brittany agrees but it's really your area."

"Use them how?" Rachel said, leaning forward.

"Envoys? She figures someone must trust them enough to send them here just in case of an apocalypse." Santana said. "Brittany's wiz kids decrypted their laptops. These are some hot chicks. They aren't quite up to the level of any of us, but they aren't amateurs."

"So, I'm supposed to trust them?" Rachel said.

"Trial basis, Berry."

"All of you agree?" she asked.

"Quinn's exec, that Pin bitch, thinks we should bring them up here first and run them through one of the training programs to make them friendlies," Santana said.

"And brain-wash them?" Rachel said, surprised.

"We don't do brain washing, do we Artie," Santana said.

"Correct, Lady Air," Artie said.

"We do, we just don't call it that," Rachel said, not agreeing. "You can run someone through one of the learning pods and influence them. Look how Artie turned Quinn into a warrior. Before the Learning Pod, she was a different person."

"If you can think it, you can say it, Berry," Santana said. "Q was a mean bitch back in the day. She'll admit to it. But the Learning pods didn't brainwash her, they just helped her grow out of that. Brittany is very careful about things like that. She won't let any brainwashing happen."

"Okay. But no brainwashing. We just teach them Clan speech and enough culture that they won't stick their feet in inappropriate places."

"Okay, but first you need to write a nice note to their bosses telling them that we are borrowing their people," Santana said. "We'll include that sit-rep their boss lady wrote up with it. Brittany says there's something encoded in it but it should be harmless translated."

"Sometimes you scare me," Rachel said, staring at her. "All of you."

"But you still love us," Santana said.

"So you say," Rachel said, sighing.

[Once more in that secret Presidential bunker]

"What is this," the President asked, holding up a large colorful sheet of parchment.

"It was delivered with the morning mail," his aide said.

"And?"

"It's a report from one of our assets in the Yucatan problem zone," the National Security Advisor said. "It's in an unknown Mayan dialect."

"Is this someone's idea of a joke?" the President asked. "What does it say?"

"We've sent for an expert," his Chief of Staff said. "She should be here soon."

"Have we heard anything from any of our other people in the area?" the president asked.

"Nothing. Complete silence. And no one else has been able to contact theirs."

"Satellite? What is that showing?"

"Same as before, Mr President. Just a sphere. We've moved one of our deep penetrating satellites over the area and confirmed it's a complete sphere."

"She's here," his aide said. A short redhead followed him into the conference room. Ignoring the other occupant, she headed straight for the document. Taking out a loupe, she started examining it.

"Where did this come from," she asked looking around the room. "It looks authentic but the ink and parchment are all wrong."

"Wrong how?"

"Too new," she said. "And, you only see this style of Mayan glyphs on large rock carvings."

"That isn't the issue," one of the President's science advisors said. "What does it say?"

"Hmm..." she said. "There appear to be two separate stories on this."

"Well?" the President asked. "She seems a bit young," he said in a low voice to his Chief of Staff.

"She's been reading Mayan glyphs since she was ten," he said, in a whisper.

"Is this a joke?" she asked. "This first one - It's a report of an encounter with a blonde goddess wearing strange metallic armor, embossed with the sign of the Hand of the Nine who claims they are trespassing."

"What is the other one?"

"It's a request from the Council of Nine, whatever that is, possibly another name for the Bolon Yokte Ku?"

"What is this 'Bolon Yokte Kuu'?" the National Security Advisor asked.

"There were nine gods of the underworld. Some people, who should really know better, believe they will appear during the Galactic Alignment, also known as the Mayan Apocalypse by some. But that's just a misinterpretation of the original text," she said.

"What's the request say?" the President asked.

"The Council of Nine have accepted the Lady in Black and her retinue as the representatives of her land to their court. This really makes no sense," she said. "There's also something about reclaiming the lands of the Serpent Clan."

"Well, at least we know what happened to Schultz," the Chief of Staff said to the president.

"Is it possible to translate that into English?" the National Security Advisor asked the redhead.

"Possibly. Some of the glyphs used don't have direct equivalents to English," she said, staring down at the parchment.

"When can you begin?" he asked.

"This is some kind of secret government training exercise, isn't it," she said, looking around the room.

"It is confidential," he told her. "No one else can know what that says."

"Do you expect more like this?" she asked. "This is an interesting example of Mayan story telling."

"It's possible," he said, "but you'll need to fill out some paperwork first, correct Mr. President?"

"Correct."

"Come this way then," the National Security Advisor said, leading her from the room.

"What do you believe this message means?" the President asked, once they were gone.

"Blonde alien women laying claim to part of Mexico?" one of the generals said. "Sounds like something thought up by some geek in his basement."

"I'm inclined to agree," the President said. "But if there's any truth to this, we now have someone on the inside. How do we signal acceptance of this request and inform Agent Schultz of her new assignment?"

"We'll figure something out," his Chief of Staff said.

"Do we have a final count of the missing?" the President asked. "How many Americans are involved?"

"We're still working on that, Mr. President."

"Can we get airtime from the networks? I think a speech to the nation is in order."

"I'll see what is available, Mr. President."

"Good. Someone get my speechwriter down here," he said.

"Is this all of them? Santana asked, staring at the monitor showing the women one of Quinn's teams had captured. "They don't look too impressive."

"They're too dangerous to leave wandering around while we turn the Zone into our own little kingdom," Brittany said. "They're very James Bond, except they aren't English, and if Bond had ever run into one of them he would have died five minutes into the movie."

"If you say so," Santana said. "There are eight of them. What do we do with them?"

"I'd dig a deep hole and not let them out until we leave," Quinn said, "in ten years."

"That's mean, Quinn," Brittany said, her voice distant.

"I don't have time to do anything with them," Rachel said. "This is a Brit project."

"They can be our secret minions, sort of," Brittany said. "We teach them Clan language, and give them a basic run-down of what the Clan means and why we're here. And put them to work."

"Doing?"

"Stuff," Brittany said. "Running errands. Yelling at diplomats. Making sure none of the Earth governments get too nosy. Getting the UN on our side. Stuff."

"Spy stuff?" Rachel asked.

"Not exactly. They are very talented, if we want to believe their files, but my crew is so much better at that sort of thing. But I think a different point of view would be useful. And this will make the US government think they have access to information no one else does. And since those are the guys who are going to cause us the most trouble... if we employ some of their people they are less likely to try to interfere in our long range plans."

"I'm still not sure about this," Rachel said, frowning. "We have our own people. Why do we need more?"

"Because what we're doing isn't remotely simple, Rachel," Brittany said. "They can help. Think of it as counter intelligence. Besides, I've already borrowed them. We can't give them back now."

"I got it," Santana said. "Let me talk to them, make sure they know what they are getting into." Getting up from her desk, she nodded to them, and went down to the conference room. Nodding at her security chief, she entered the room, followed by her security detail, dressed in hard suits.

"Where are we?" the oldest woman, Agent Schultz, asked. Her question was repeated by the 'interpreter' for the group.

"Ah, that would be telling," Santana said, answering in English, to their obvious surprise. "We did pass your message to your boss's boss," Santana said, smirking. "Took them awhile to find someone who could read it."

"What did you do to it?" Schultz asked.

"Nothing much," Santana. "All communication with outside organizations must be conducted in Clan speak. So, we translated it for you, since you weren't aware of that little rule."

"Clan Speak?" Schultz asked, puzzled. "Mayan?"

"Well, my favorite linguist would say it's an ancient dialect of the language you call Maya, but that's just a detail," Santana said. "Now, someone, not me, I have better things to do, has decided that you deadly ladies would be more useful to us if you spoke our language and had some sense of our history. I don't agree but no one argues with her."

"So, someone is going to teach us your language?" Schultz asked.

"Not someone, something we call a Learning Pod. You'll love it," Santana said. "You can learn a year's worth of almost any topic in less than a day. We all use them when we need to learn something in a hurry."

"Then what?" Schultz asked.

"Well, I'm sure you'll understand that you won't get your fun little toys back until we feel we can trust you. But we do plan to put you to work. We've even formally requested that your bosses lend you to us."

"What did they say?" Schultz said.

"Well, they haven't figured out how to reply to us, but we have it on good authority that they said yes," Santana said.

"What do you plan on having us do?" Schultz asked, sighing.

"If this were my idea, I'd put you to work in some nice safe place until this whole thing is over with. But we don't actually have any safe places to throw you in. So it looks like you're out of luck. Your main task will be as our intermediaries with all of the people who think they are too important to follow our rules."

"Humans don't like following rules," Schultz said. "The more power they have, the less likely they are to listen."

"Knew that," Santana said. "Wrote a book about it. Made all my crews read it."

"Your crews?"

"Someone needs to be in charge, right Penny?" Santana said, directing her question to one of her guards.

"Yes, Lady Air," Penny said.

"A word to the wise," Santana told them. "Even without her hard suit, Penny could mop the floor with any of you, faster that you can cry uncle. So don't annoy her. Or anyone else here, for that matter."

"And where is here?" Schultz asked again.

"A little place we like to call an asteroid belt," Santana said. She pushed a button, revealing the asteroid field in the view screens. "That first step's a doozy. And don't think about stealing a shuttle. It's not like flying an airplane, and Star Trek? Got all the details wrong, and isn't worth much as training material."

Opening the door, Santana stepped out into the corridor, followed by Penny. "Let them think about that for an hour and then we'll start cycling them through the pods."

"Yes, ma'am," Penny said.

"And I'd like a copy of whatever they talk about," Santana said, before heading back to her office where Brittany and Rachel waited.

"What's the verdict?" Schultz asked her team. They usually came through in a pinch but aliens and space ships were way outside their areas of expertise.

"Unless we plan to learn how to fly one of their ships after we steal it, we're at their mercy," Tex said.

"They aren't exactly Ming the Merciless," April said. "Or they are very good at hiding it."

"Notice how there are no men? Anywhere?" Judy said. "That'll make things more difficult."

"Yeah, no flashing your tits to get the keys to the cell," Betty said, laughing.

"I never flash my tits," Judy protested. "I just use my natural charm on the guards."

"You're all up-to-date on your anti-brainwashing pills?" Schultz asked.

"Right before we flew down to Cancun," Betty said. The others nodded.

"I'd like confirmation that the Boss approved this new assignment," Schultz said, "but learning their language wouldn't hurt."

"Especially if they refuse to communicate otherwise," Peaches, their language expert, said.

"Someone's head must have exploded when they saw your message in Mayan," Fred said.

"There's a kid over at the Institute who lives and breathes the stuff," Peaches said. "She probably had it figured out in minutes."

"And why is she not here with us?" Schultz said.

"It was past her curfew?" Peaches said. "She's only fifteen."

"So, order of business," Schultz said. "Learn their language and anything else we can about them. Find out why they invaded Yucatan and not somewhere more useful like Idaho. Send the info to the Boss. Anything else?"

"I want to know why only women," Jess said. "It might be important."

"Maybe they just want to tweak our religious leaders?"

"The Pope? Would he care?" Betty said.

"Steal a ship and escape?" Judy said.

"How many of them speak English? And where did they learn it?"

"And who is Lady Air?" Schultz added herself. "That was a midwestern US accent mixed with something else."

"Hispanic," Judy said. "I have a third cousin from Ohio who sounds like that."

An hour later, Penny returned and led them into a long room, with a row of what looked like coffins. She pointed at several piles of material on a table just inside the door. "You must wear the learning suits," she told Peaches. "One size."

"She says to wear these," Peaches said to the others. They each picked one up.

"No changing room, apparently," Judy muttered, looking around.

"All women," Schultz reminded them. "Change ladies."

"It's not very flattering," Peaches grumbled, looking down at herself.

"I bet she looks good in one," Jess said, nodding towards Penny. "They all probably do. Not a wasted pound in the lot," she grumbled.

"Maybe they'll tell us their weight loss secrets?" April said.

"They run around in heavy armor all day," Betty said. "They probably burn hundreds of calories just walking around the room."

"Now what?" Fred asked, staring at the row of coffins. Tex walked over to one and poked it.

"What do we do?" Peaches asked Penny.

Penny walked over to one of the pods and opened it by pressing on a small blue symbol. She then gestured Fred over and pointed at the pod.

"What does she want me to do?" Fred asked, listening to them talk with a puzzled look on her face.

"You climb in," Peaches said, "and lay on your back."

"And think of England?" Jess said, smirking.

"That's what she said," Tex said, winking at Fred.

"Hush, Tex," Schultz said.

"You climb in, lay down, and pull the cover shut," Peaches said. "The pod, this thing, is then flooded with something she calls 'goop'."

"How do you breath it?" Fred asked nervously.

"She says it's strange the first couple of times, but just breath like it's air."

"Okay," Fred said. "Do I have to go first?"

"Yes." Schultz said. "But I'll be right behind you."

"Boss?" Peaches said.

"Yes?"

"She says Lady Air calls it 'The Matrix' though none of her cohort agree."

"Interesting. So it's some sort of virtual reality learning system?" Schultz said. "And they've been watching our movies. Ask her what her favorite movie is."

"She says, Yes, it's a form of virtual reality. Someone called Artie will configure it to our needs," Peaches said. "And she doesn't have a favorite movie though she likes Uma Thurman movies."

"No accounting for taste," Schultz said, grimacing. "Let's get this over with."

"How are they doing, Artie?" Rachel asked.

"They are excellent learners," Artie said.

"How long are you going to keep them under?" Rachel asked.

"Two weeks of real time," Artie said. "A month of subjective time."

"Well, I guess it's better than sticking them in a cell until we're ready for them," Rachel muttered.

"Indeed," Artie said.

"And the subliminal brain washing we don't do? How long will that take?"

"Two weeks," Artie said. "But it is not brain washing, as you call it. They are merely being given a positive outlook on the works of the Clans."

"Right. Shiny, Happy People," Rachel said, shaking her head. "On a boat. In a box."

"I do not understand your reference," Artie said.

"Don't worry about it," Rachel said. "I'm just rambling randomly. Let me know when they are done with their pod time, please."

"As you wish," Artie said.

Next: Family