Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Addendum: The quote from The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy probably belongs to the estate of Douglas Adams.
Notes: Once more with some interaction with OC's. And a little tweaking from the NaNoWriMo original, though not as much as last chapter.
And, I haven't mentioned this, and probably should have earlier, but the real life population of the Yucatan Peninsula is 5X larger than in this story. I needed it to be smaller for plot purposes so this fictional Yucatan suffered a hurricane, several earthquakes, and etc that resulted in a migration of non-native peoples out of the area that reduced the population during the years before 12/21/2012.
Reminder: Fiction! While there is a city (Merida) and upscale hotel with that name in the State of Yucatan in Mexico - everything, really - everything! else about this chapter is fictional!
Word Count: 4,069 ( 17 of 18)
"What's going on?" Rachel asked, entering the Operations room with her escort. She'd been having a quiet lunch with her fathers when they'd been interrupted by an action alarm. She'd had them taken back to their hotel before heading to Ops.
Brittany pointed at the screens. "Live feed," she said. "One of the local gangs is holed up in the Gran Hotel in Merida. They've got missiles and some hefty anti-personnel weapons. The city police just aren't equipped to handle that kind of firepower, so the mayor requested assistance."
"This is the mayor we had to bribe?" Rachel asked.
"We bribed every mayor," Brittany reminded her. "It's SOP. We want them on our side and coming to us for problems like this. We've replaced the Federal authorities they used to go to when these kinds of things happened, but they need to be encouraged to work with us."
"Who did you send?" Rachel asked, peering at the nearest screen.
"Quinn volunteered Gold Team," Brittany said, pointing at a screen displaying trooper status checks.
"Of course she did," Rachel said, flopping down onto a chair. "None of the gang are going to survive her little visit, are they."
"This is Quinn we're talking about. She prefers to make an example of them," Brittany said. "Just like the last drug gang she took down."
"We need another way for her to work out her aggression," Rachel said. "Something with less bloodshed. Does her sister really believe she's a pacifist at heart?"
"Even pacifists have their limits," Brittany said. "They pushed the wrong buttons this time. Not that it takes much. Q really hates the drug cartels for some reason."
"They wanted to get into a fight with us?" Rachel asked, surprised. "Do they not understand who we are?"
"I don't think they really believe it," Brittany said. "They think we're just little girls playing at soldiers."
"Ouch," Rachel said. She hoped for their sake they didn't say that to Quinn's face. "How long does she plan on this taking?"
"Long enough to make a point, and not a minute longer."
"What about the hotel?" Rachel asked. "Seems very impressive. Is there going to be anything left of it when she's done?"
"We bought it from the Mayor's nephew ten minutes ago," Brittany said, causing Rachel to wince.
"Before we're done, we're going to end up owning every hotel, motel, and restaurant in the Zone," Rachel said, grimacing.
"That isn't really a bad idea," Brittany said. "We'll have to hire managers, and someone will have to supervise them, but the income would be useful. We can't keep Santana's crews on mining duty forever."
"I was kidding," Rachel said, watching the action on the screen.
"I'm not," Brittany said. "Once we have things under control, both in and outside the Zone, and people get a chance to see our tech, we'll be flooded by people claiming Clan heritage. They'll need to stay somewhere."
"Like carpetbaggers?" Rachel said. "Why not just keep them out altogether?"
"We have more control by being welcoming," Brittany said. "We can filter out the fakes on our own terms. Besides, we'll need their good will and support when we eventually reveal our end game."
"Support? Meaning, improving the tech of the whole world?" Rachel asked, turning away from the screens.
"Solving hunger. Stopping Wars. That kind of thing," Brittany said.
"That isn't part of the plan we agreed on with the Confederation AI's," Rachel said. "Won't they object?"
"It's our planet," Brittany said. "As long as we think long term, and prepare for the Enemy, they won't care how we get there. They aren't like the Federation in Star Trek. There is no Prime Directive in Confederation policy. The assumption is that contact between civilizations changes things, no matter how hard you try to avoid it, and that's not necessarily a bad thing."
"Okay," Rachel said. "You've sold me. What's one more project. Let's make the world a better place."
"First we have to defeat the Enemy," Brittany said. "Then we'll have plenty of time. We'll just lay the groundwork for now."
"It'll take decades," Rachel warned her.
"Thanks to Clan medi-tech we're going to live for centuries," Brittany reminded her cheerfully.
"Let's keep that our little secret," Rachel said. "The minions and hangers-on don't need to know that right now."
"Absolutely," Brittany said. "Look! She's done," she said, turning and pointing at one of the screens.
"That was fast," Rachel said. "Is that a scratch on Pin's armor?" she asked, pointing.
"Looks like a scuff mark," Brittany said. "Someone must have tried to hit her with a rocket."
"Not bullets?" Rachel asked, hoping she sounded more curious than horrified. The annexation had been going on for four weeks, with the occasional battle between Clan troopers and local criminals. None of Quinn's troopers had gotten hurt but she still worried about them. Rachel wasn't looking forward to the inevitable conflict between the Clan and local governments. Or when the real fighting started.
"Those just bounce off without leaving a mark," Brittany said. "I bet Quinn wasn't happy about it, though. Pin is her best lieutenant."
"Her successor?" Rachel asked.
"Maybe," Brittany said, poking the screen. "We'll have to see. It's too early to make that decision. But Pin's a Santana-Quinn so she has a shot. She has Quinn's deadly battle sense mixed with Santana's ability to plan."
"That could be scary," Rachel said.
"Oh yeah," Brittany said. "The AI's got lucky with you three. Talent, trainability, and hotness."
"I don't think that last one was on their checklist," Rachel said, giggling.
"No, but putting the whammy on someone is a lot easier if they're too busy basking in the hotness to notice," Brittany said.
"Can we talk with her?" Rachel asked.
"Sure," Brittany said, tapping on her ever present tablet. "Hey Quinn!" she said. "Got a minute for your groupie?"
"Hey Brit," Quinn said, her voice slightly husky. "Groupie?"
"What's wrong with her voice?" Rachel whispered.
"She gets like that after a battle," Brittany whispered back. "It's very sexy."
"Who's there with you?" Quinn asked.
"Hi Quinn!" Rachel said.
"Hey, Berry," Quinn said. "Enjoy the fight?"
"No," Rachel said, glad Quinn couldn't see her face. "People dying is a huge turn-off, I've found."
Quinn turned her head, giving them a view of the hotel lobby, littered with debris. "They gave us little choice," she said. "They were terrorizing students at one of the local colleges."
"Death isn't always the best answer," Rachel said, disapprovingly.
"No, but in this case? It was our only option, unless we wanted a lot of dead hotel guests and workers," Quinn said. Rachel wondered if she was imagining the sad tone in Quinn's voice. Wondered if it was possible for her to be excited and sad at the same time.
"Are we still having dinner tonight?" Rachel asked.
"It might have to be later than we planned," Quinn said. "Even with the nano-bots, clean-up is going to take a few hours."
"Give me a shout when you're back," Rachel said. "There's a restaurant in Cancun that my fathers say is fantastic that I'd like to try."
"Will do," Quinn said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go talk to the Mayor."
"Okay," Rachel said. The screen went dark as Quinn turned off the video feed.
"You and Quinn are going on a date?" Brittany said, excitedly. "Is this your first one?"
"It's not a date," Rachel said softly, looking down and poking her tablet. "Just two friends enjoy an evening out. This isn't the first time we've gone out to dinner."
"Do you want it to be a date?" Brittany asked, smiling at her.
"It doesn't matter what I want," Rachel said, getting up. "Quinn is just a friend."
"If that's how you feel, I won't argue," Brittany said, nodding. "So, where are you off to now?"
"Santana's cousin Sophia promised to go over her dissertation with me," Rachel murmured, blushing.
"She is kinda hot," Brittany said, smirking. "These Lost Clan women are scrumptious."
"All we're doing is talking," Rachel said.
"Well, go do the talking thing," Brittany said, shaking her head at Rachel's obliviousness. She refrained from making another comment. She knew Rachel wouldn't appreciate it. The question, in her mind, was whether Rachel was aware of Sophia's attention for what it really was.
"I will," Rachel said, nodding.
"You'll be back in time for dinner with Quinn?" Brittany asked.
"Yes," Rachel said. "Of course." Stuffing her tablet in a coat pocket, she bounced out of the room.
"Quinn's going to have her hands full with that one," Brittany said, "if the two of them stop ignoring what's right in front of them. Right Artie?"
"Yes, Lady Shadow," Artie said.
"I'm going to have to interfere, if they don't hurry it up," she muttered, picking up her own tablet before skipping out of the room.
"Remind me why we're playing nice?" Quinn said, rubbing her forehead. It'd been a long day, rooted out that drug gang from the hotel. If there hadn't been any guests in the hotel, they could have leveled it, though it had cost them double what she suspected the hotel was worth to make that an option.
"Because we need them more than they need us?" Pin said, removing her hard suit just inside the door of their ready room.
"They don't know that," Quinn said, leaning back against her locker. "They just know we're willing to pay a premium for anything we plan to destroy."
"They must have noticed by now that everything we buy looks better when we're done," Pin said.
"It's possible they haven't," Quinn told her. "Though, they're corrupt, not stupid."
"Did you have to deal with this kind of thing before the Clan?" Pin asked, curious. A few of Quinn's troopers knew about her true past, though it was rarely discussed. They also knew that their own childhoods had taken place in the learning pods, something that had worried Rachel when she'd found out.
"No," Quinn said. "Upper middle class America thinks this is the kind of thing that happens in gangster movies."
"Like that show Sopranos?" Whist asked, pausing on her way to the shower room Quinn shared with her lieutenants.
"Yes," Quinn said, grimacing. "I can't believe we let you watch that. It's exaggerated for TV."
"We had a fully balanced childhood experience in the pods," Pin said, "including American television. Just like the real thing."
"Speak for yourself," Bobbi said, dropping her towel down the laundry chute. "Sex is so much better in the real world. It has a brightness that the pod sims just doesn't have."
"I'll have to take your word on that," Quinn said, glad she no longer blushed at the blunt talk of her troopers. The learning pods had encouraged a closeness that allowed them to speak their minds, something very foreign to Quinn's upbringing.
"You did the full leadership course in the pods," Whist said. "You weren't alone the whole time, were you?"
"Yes, but it was different," Quinn admitted. "Your pod-life and training sims were based on things the AI learned from us. Your accelerated childhoods were based on ours, but were basically the 'good parts' versions."
"Really?" Pin said. "So we relived your childhood?"
"I hope not!" Quinn said. "No one deserves that kind of childhood."
"Oh."
"But, it isn't like your childhoods were programmed versions of ours," Quinn said, quickly. "You had real childhoods in the pods, as strange as that may be to understand by others. There was nothing fake about your experiences. You interacted with each other. Learned things together. Became friends and competed against each other."
"Once you'v experienced both sim and real life, it's possible to tell the difference," Whist said. "But how much of that time in the sims was ours and how much was just an echo of someone else's life?"
"If you really want to know how the sims work, Artie can help you," Quinn said. "I suspect, if you ask, she might show you what our lives were like in our own childhoods. She records everything that goes through your head when you're in the pods. But be prepared to be disappointed. It's nothing like whatever you're probably imagining. We did not have TV family lives. Of all of us, Lady Air probably had the closest thing to a normal childhood. And that's only by comparison."
"I'll pass," Pin said. "Seeing how you grew up, using the pods as one gigantic pensieve, isn't going to make us better warriors."
Quinn nodded, hoping her relief wasn't showing. If her lieutenants really wanted to learn from her childhood mistakes, she was reluctant but willing to let them look, though she really didn't think it would be useful. They wouldn't learn how to be better warriors or members of the Clan, as the case may be, by digging around in her memories.
"I'm curious to see how different things were, but not enough to invade your privacy," Whist said. "You probably shouldn't make that offer to any of the Nine Cultists," she added, laughing. "They already worship the four of you. They don't need any more wanking material."
"Okay, this topic has just reached its end," Quinn said, glaring at her three lieutenants.
"Got it Boss," Bobbi said. "But I bet you were sexy in your cheerleader outfit."
"You didn't have cheerleading in the pods?" Quinn asked, dreading the answer.
"No," Pin said. "Not as anything organized. A few of the girls watched some cheerleading movies and put together cheering clubs. But it was really just for fun."
"Good to know," Quinn said. "Cheering can provide a number of benefits but the way we did it when I was a teen was unhealthy and slightly crazy."
"So, Boss," Bobbi asked, several minutes later. "You have a date with the Memory tonight."
"It's not a date," Quinn said, only slightly mollified by the other's laughing. "She and I go way back. It's just a friendly dinner."
"If you say so," Bobbi said. "But if you need us to run interference with any of her parents, just let us know."
"No, enjoy your evenings off," Quinn said. "It's not a date so I won't need any assistance."
"If you say so," Whist said, obviously not believing her. "Come on ladies, let's let our fearless leader get ready for her date." Laughing she skipped out of the locker room, Pin and Bobbi in tow.
"It's not a date!" Quinn shouted after them, groaning.
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," a voice said, echoing around the room.
"Not you too," Quinn said, glaring at her sister, as she came into view. "It's dinner. With a friend. Not a date."
"It's dinner with a friend," Francine said. "Yada, yada, yada. You're not very convincing."
"A date implies things. Complicated things," Quinn said "We just occasionally enjoy each other's company."
"As long as you're happy, Quinnie," Francine said, sitting down next to her.
"And don't call me Quinnie!" Quinn shouted, her voice echoing around the room.
"Does anyone know about Lucy?" Francine asked, dogging the end of Quinn's towel.
"Other than Artie?" Quinn asked, surprised at the question.
"How did Artie find out?" Francine asked, flopping back down onto the floor, this time colliding with the pillow Quinn threw at her.
"The nose," Quinn said. "She wanted to know why it didn't match the one in my genetic profile. And what the purpose of the change was."
"So, some of these ferocious young women are running around with Lucy's nose?" Francine asked.
"No." Quinn said, sitting down next to her.
"How'd you manage that?" Francine asked, staring at her sister.
"I might have asked her to tweak things a little bit in my profile," Quinn said, smirking. "So it's really the Fabray nose. The one you have, and I missed."
"Clever," Francine said. "So, Lucy is forever wiped from history? I liked Lucy," she added. "Lucy was cute, and smart, and better than the Fabrays."
"No, not completely," Quinn said. "She has a place in the official history of the new Clan."
"In the bottom of a file cabinet, in the basement, behind a door labeled 'Beware of the Tiger' in a room with no light?" Francine said with a smirk.
"Something like that," Quinn said dismissively. "So, what brings you here? Should't you be at the beach?"
"I can't just drop in for a visit with my favorite sister?" Francine said, standing up.
"Your only sister," Quinn said, correcting her. "That everyone thinks is dead."
"My only sister who, while apparently missing for five years, joined a real life version of one of her favorite manga," she said, holding out her hand.
"The hard suits are pretty cool," Quinn said, giving her a small smile, grabbing her hand, and pulling herself up.
"Yes, they are. But I'm not sure I want to know, yet, the real reason you need to wear something that would cause a nerdgasm in Lucy Quinn Fabray," Francine said.
"Umm… no you don't," Quinn said, agreeing. "But that's years from now. And ours are much better."
"Enough distracting," Francine said, frowning. "Go get ready for dinner." Leaning forward, she gave her sister a hug.
"Yes, ma'am," Quinn said, kissing her on the cheek, before leadinging her out of the room.
"What's on the agenda for today," the American Ambassador said, looking down the long conference table at his bored staff.
"You have a meeting with the Governor of Yucatan's Chief of Staff after lunch," his secretary said.
"Any idea what she wants?" he asked.
"Something about asylum for herself and some of her people," she said.
"Asylum from who?" he asked, puzzled.
"She didn't say."
"Okay, anything else?"
"Rumor has it that the communication embargo is going to be lifted tomorrow," his communication director said.
"A real rumor or something you heard at the beach," he asked dryly.
"It's not a rumor," a loud voice said from the door.
"Ah, Agent Schultz, good of you to finally join us. Where have you been for the last three months?" he asked, glaring at her.
"Investigating the Yucatan Annexation," she said, pulling out an empty chair near the door, and sitting down. Loud questions filled the air.
"Investigating the what for whom?" the Ambassador's Chief of Staff asked, waving the others to silence.
"The Yucatan Annexation," she said. "That's the official name to the alien land grab. And my team was seconded to a special UN task force."
"Why wasn't I informed," the Ambassador asked.
"I'm telling you now," she told him, pouring herself a glass of water.
"Have you been in contact with home base?" he asked.
"For the last month," she said, smirking at his reaction. She'd known the Ambassador since college and liked him even less now than she did then.
"And you're only telling us now?" the Ambassador said.
"Need to know," she said. "And you didn't need to know. Besides, you don't have the staff to handle the communication methods required."
"We have plenty of staff who can use a phone," the Communication director said, haughtily.
"Do they speak Mayan?" she asked. At their blank faces, she said, "Thought not. All communication in and out of the annexation zone must be in Classical Mayan or it won't get through the blackout."
"But this restriction will be lifted tomorrow?" the Chief of Staff asked. She nodded. "Where did you hear that?"
"From our generous proto-Mayan alien overlords," Schultz said.
"You've had contact with them?" the Ambassador asked. "They've refused meeting requests from every embassy in the city. If you aren't a local they aren't talking."
"Maybe you just aren't important enough?" Schultz said, amused.
"I'm the American Ambassador," he said.
"And I'm Agent in Charge of the US Mission to the Neo-Pan-Galactic Confederation," Schultz said.
"The what to the who?" the Ambassador said.
"In charge," she said, pointing at herself. "Our alien friends out there, busy turning the Yucatan into an independent state, are a peacekeeping force, of a sort, from the Neo-Pan-Galactic Confederation."
"And they couldn't come to us?" the Ambassador said. "We're trained to work with foreign entities."
"It's a little more complicated than that," Schultz said. "I'm sure you can request a copy of my report, once it's translated, and declassified, the day after tomorrow, that outlines the whole mess."
"Why not tell us now?" the Ambassador said.
"Because I have a meeting in Washington with the President, this evening, and at the UN tomorrow," Schultz said.
"The UN?" he sputtered.
"Yes. You can watch it, if you want," she said, smirking. "It'll be broadcast live on the usual channels. Our gracious invaders, though they prefer to think of themselves as liberators, but that's a long story, will be meeting with the UN Security Council. But just as a courtesy. The UN doesn't have the mandate for handling this kind of thing. The real meeting is with the President tonight."
"Oh," the Ambassador said, faintly.
"Don't worry," she said. "You might still have a job when we're done. And now I have to go."
"Wait, I still have questions," the Ambassador said.
"No time, you can ask them when I get back," Schultz said. "And, about the Yucatan Governor's Chief of Staff request? You'll probably want to say no. She was spotted in the company of the head of that cartel gang that was taken out last week. Our hosts really hate the drug cartels for some reason, and seem to be trying to wipe them out on the entire peninsula. And quite successfully." Nodding to them, she left the room, leaving behind a shocked silence.
"That was fun," Schultz said, rejoining her crew in the Embassy lobby.
"Did you record it?" Bobbi asked.
Reaching into a shirt pocket, Schultz pulled out a slim, card sized device. "Here you go, a Lady Shadow special."
Smiling, Bobbi slipped it into a pocket. "Comedy Gold, I bet," she said. "When are you leaving for Washington?"
"The advance teams are on the ground in Washington now," she said. "It's a quick flight, so this afternoon."
"Good," Tex said. "There's a restaurant down by the beach I've been meaning to try out."
"Beach or beach bunnies?" Bobbi said, following her out of the embassy.
"You've been spending too much time with some of the Santana's," Betsy said.
"You have to admit they can be a lot of fun," Tex said, smirking. "You wouldn't know they're the product of an alien civilization."
"As long as it's mutual," Schultz said. "Just don't mistake one of them for Lady Air."
"No chance of that," Tex said. "There's only one Lady Air."
"And only one Lady Shadow, who would probably stake you out on a fire-ant mound, and smile while doing it. Followed by some interpretive dance she learned at her favorite Cancun strip club, if you tried to use one of your lines on Lady Air," Peaches said.
"It's a good thing they're civilized," Jess said, giggling.
"Yes," said Schultz. "And, they'd never stab one of us in the back, like the Boss tried that time with the French ambassador's wife."
"I said I was sorry," Tex muttered, ignoring the laughter from the rest of the team. "How was I to know that was his wife, not his daughter?"
"That wouldn't have been much better, Tex," Schultz said.
"At least we now know that we all have Lost Clan ancestors," Peaches said. "So we'll always have a place here if we need to escape."
"That was definitely a shock," April said, getting into their SUV's drivers seat.
"Not if you read High Priestess Sophia's dissertation," Betsy said. "She clearly lays out how it could happen. The more amazing thing is that we all ended up with the Agency at the same time."
"That's your thing," Tex said, climbing in. "Not my idea of beach reading."
"Ladies?" Schultz said, joining them in the SUV.
"Yes, boss?" they chorused, bursting into laughter.
"What did we agree to say about that?"
"We don't tell anyone," Jess said, from the back seat.
"And why?"
"So the Boss won't think we'll 'go native'," April said, "And we'll keep getting paid."
"And don't forget it!" Schultz told them. "Lunch?"
"Lunch," April said, putting the SUV in gear and driving off.
Next: We finish up Book I.