Pairings/Characters: Brittany/Santana, Quinn, Rachel, Kurt Hummel, Artie Abrams, Finn Hudson, Puck, Mercedes Jones, our OC lady spies from Book I, pseudo-Ellen, pseudo_Portia
Important Note: Still not really Ellen and Portia.
Word Count: 5,429 ( 3 of 9 )

"How much are we going to tell them?" Quinn asked warily, as they approached the beach house Ellen and Portia had been staying in.

"I say we trust them," Brittany said. "At some point they are going to recognize us. I'd like to do it on my own terms. Especially since Ellen did that special on gay teens and featured San and myself in it."

"That was a horrible special," Rachel said. "Not one of Ellen's finest moments, though she obviously meant well."

"And she's donated a lot of money over the years since then to support programs for lost teens," Brittany said. "She's tried to make up for that."

"It's not like we want her to tell the world our real story - the true lives of the baddest people to every walk the halls of McKinley," Santana said.

"I'm going to tell them our story," Rachel said, nodding to herself.

"Of course," Santana said. "There was never any doubt. This is just the kind of story you hobbit people like to write down."

"I'm not a hobbit," Rachel protested.

"You're way cuter," Brittany said, just before reaching for the doorbell.

"May we come in?" Rachel asked, when Portia appeared at the door.

"Of course," she said, stepping back.

"We thought we should explain a few things before going to the party," Rachel said. "It'll only take a minute."

"Have a seat, I'll get Ellen," Portia said.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Quinn asked her quietly. Rachel just nodded.

From her position on a chair, Brittany perched on her lap, Santana watched the other two. "Are you sure something isn't happening there?" she asked Brittany in a low voice. "It's like watching the slowest case of UST in history."

"You're being silly," Brittany said. "Of course there's something there. It just needs time to blossom."

"Right. Rachel and Quinn. The slowest romantics on the planet. How could I have forgotten." She rolled her eyes.

"You wanted to talk?" Ellen asked, joining them in the room.

"There are going to be people at this party who know things that you might not be aware of," Rachel said. "We thought it best if we tell you ourselves, though we do expect you to keep this a secret."

"So, you're not really aliens and are from Hoboken, New Jersey?" Ellen said, jokingly.

"I'm not sure why anyone would claim Hoboken as a home," Santana said. "It's a dump."

"You've never been to Hoboken," Quinn said, in a loud whisper.

"It's still a dump," Santana whispered back.

"Hush!" Brittany said, poking both of them. "You're ruining Rach's thing."

"Well, some of us are more alien than others," Rachel said, after glaring at Quinn and Santana. "The Lady Shadow really is an alien. Her family is from another part of the galaxy. You might recognize her by her Earth name - 'Brittany'.

"I do have an official Clan name but it's a bit silly in English, so I don't use it," Brittany said. "I actually grew up in Ohio."

"We all did," Rachel said.

"Ohio?" Ellen said, looking at them, puzzled.

"Yeah, that's the big secret," Santana said, using air quotes. "We're all from Lima, Ohio," she said.

"I did tell you we'd seen some of them before," Portia said. "You're Brittany Pierce, and you're Santana Lopez," she said pointing at them in turn.

"That's right Cuz," Santana said. "The poor little teen gay-bees your lovely wife screwed over with that TV special."

"I didn't mean to," Ellen said nervously. "I really didn't."

"Rural white bread Ohio, and sensitivity for the different? Not happening," Santana said. "Someone should have told you before you even tried that it was a humongously bad idea. No matter how good your intentions were."

"Cuz?" Portia said faintly.

"We share great-grandmothers," Santana said, with a faint smile. "And you'll meet a few other cousins at the party."

"Oh," Portia said, leaning back against Ellen.

"So, the real reason you were picked to introduce us to the world? You're sort of family," Brittany said. "Otherwise, San wouldn't have let you within a thousand miles of here, especially after that horrible TV show."

"And Short Stuff over there, and her fathers, are huge fans," Santana said.

"Rachel Berry," Rachel said with a small,wave, "and that's Quinn Fabray." Quinn nodded at them.

"Explain this Ohio alien thing to us," Ellen said, in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

"It's simple," Quinn said, speaking to them for the first time. "We're all part of the so-called Mayan Diaspora. We weren't actually kidnapped."

"Depends on your definition of kidnapping," Santana grumbled. "We all agree, now, that it was necessary but we weren't given a choice. And you're the one with the most reasons to be angry by that. We know you haven't forgotten the 'extra special' treatment."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Quinn said, before turning back to Ellen and Portia. "We were on our way home, in a snow storm. The aliens were looking for people with Clan blood and they found us. Stuck us in a time bubble, gave us some training, taught us their language, and hired us to do a job."

"And it's a doozy," Brittany said. "The thirteen Clans are like cops for the galaxy, and there's supposed to be a station house in our neighborhood, run by one of the Clans. The Mayan people of the Yucatan are descendants of those alien cops. The aliens in charge of this corner of the galaxy hired us, as descendants of the original Clan, to do the job they were supposed to do before they disappeared. We discussed it and decided to involve the other descendants of that lost Clan. It's gonna take a few years but we think it's gonna be worth it. All the new Clans people will have ties to both this planet and the Clans. It's going to be a great combination."

"And thus speaks the Lady of the Shadows, she who plans and schemes and makes the rest of us look like amateurs," Santana said proudly. "Bad guys of the galaxy beware!"

"Time bubble?" Ellen asked. "A time warp? Like on Star Trek?"

"You can think of it that way," Quinn said. "It's how they crammed a decade worth of learning and experience into us so fast."

"You do look older than I expected," Ellen said, looking at all of them. "Mid twenties, instead of late teens. Looking in the mirror must be very strange."

"It wasn't instant," Brittany said, shaking her head. "We didn't wake up older, we grew into our now-selves."

"And all that time we spent learning we were steeped in Clan culture. So we're different. We may have been born on this planet but the way we think is more Clan than native now. We think in Clan speak. We eat Clan foods. We dress like Clan. Sure, Earth is still home but we fit better with our Clan than any of us ever will again in Lima. So, aliens, at least in spirit," Rachel said, pointing at the others. "And, in a few minutes you'll get to meet our families. Some of whom I expect you'll have already met."

"You said this was a secret," Ellen said. "How many people know you started in small town Ohio?"

"Our people, of course," Rachel said. "I believe in full disclosure among family. A few others do. Santana's parents, and several cousins; Brittany's guardians; My Dads and my Mom; Quinn's sister. I don't think her parents know yet."

"Not a chance," Quinn said. Brittany coughed loudly. "Brittany? Something you need to share?"

"Your mother might know, after we rescued her from that last little kidnapping attempt. Your father is too busy waiting for the Apocalypse to have figured it out."

"We already had the Apocalypse," Ellen said quickly. "Right?"

"Just the local one, which wasn't really an apocalypse but a prediction that the lost Clan, or their Mayan descendants, would return to where they came from. It was slightly accurate," Rachel said, shrugging.

"My father… he's a Bible literalist, American style," Quinn said, grimacing. "He's shacked up with some people just like him in Israel waiting for the Rapture. They don't believe our little land grab is the Apocalypse, but just a sign of things to come."

"I'm thinking of getting a '666' tattoo," Santana said, smirking. "Right here." She tapped her forehead above her left eyebrow. "Then they'll really believe us."

"San, you're not getting a tattoo like that," Brittany said, disapprovingly. "It's hard enough to get some people to take us seriously."

"People don't take you seriously?" Ellen asked. "You have all that fancy armor, and space ships! Spaceships aren't serious?"

"They won't until we prove to them that we mean business," Quinn said. "Which should be any day now."

"Quinn's been busy kicking over ant hills," Brittany said excitedly. "Should be in the news any day now. But that has nothing to do with the party. So we should get going." They all stood up and headed to the door.

"So, you're going to move down here and hang out with your alien family?" Ellen asked Portia as they walked down the beach. "You can buy that comedy club, and I'll be your favorite act."

"For private performances," Portia said, smiling, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"Ugh! Old people sex," Santana said, from behind them.

"How did they decide who would do what job?" Portia asked, ignoring her. "How did these aliens know that Quinn here should be your general and that Santana would be the best person to put in charge of your space fleet?"

"And how did they pick Rachel as the person to be their bard?" Ellen asked. "And why a bard? Why not something else?"

"Rachel was already half way there," Quinn said. "If you've ever heard her singing, you'd understand why. Brittany was already learning the kinds of things her job requires. Her parents were explorers, from one of the other Clans. She knows way more languages than anyone I've heard of outside of a TV show and she makes James Bond look like an amateur with her sneaky ninja skills."

Rachel started humming. "Look at what you started," Santana said to Quinn, disgustedly. "She's gonna start singing and we're going to be in the middle of a half-baked Disney musical."

"I don't know why they picked Santana and myself," Quinn said, ignoring her and replying to Portia.

"Yes, you do," Brittany said. "You both have that undefinable command presence, but in slightly different ways. Santana's way makes her an excellent leader of the kinds of people who make great spacers. Quinn has a knack for that up close and personal touch. She's one of the best troop leaders the Clans have seen in a millennium. She can reach right into a situation, and before anyone else can react, find the best outcome."

"You really do think in alien terms," Ellen said, surprised.

"If, by alien, you mean we take care of our people and care about the results of our actions? That actions have consequences? Then yes," Rachel said, pausing her humming for a second, "I suspect you can claim we are alien."

"Strictly speaking, all members of the thirteen clans are alien," Brittany said. "It's just a coincidence that we look like natives of this planet and can interbreed."

"Wouldn't someone notice?" Portia asked, quickly covering Ellen's mouth with her hand to keep her from making the obvious comment.

"The differences are subtle," Brittany said. "Current Earth bio-tech can't pick it out."

"But yours can," Portia said.

"Yup!" Brittany said brightly. "Oops, gotta go." Without explaining, Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and dragged her away at a much faster pace.

"She's certainly unique," Ellen said, watching them disappear into the trees.

"She's full blooded Clan," Rachel said. "And her guardians made sure she had a traditional Clan education. Which means the US educational system was baffled by her."

"Coach always understood her," Quinn said. "And Santana, of course."

"Some times, I suspect Coach Sylvester is also an alien," Rachel said. "Though I haven't quite decided which Clan she belongs to."

"One of the crazier ones," Quinn said, with a laugh.

"So, this is what aliens eat when they have a cook-out," Ellen said, having wandered over to the cooking pit. From the collection of vegetables roasting on several large grills, it looked like the aliens were plant eaters. She wondered if it was a cultural thing.

"This is what the Lady Rachel eats," the tall blonde cook, wearing an apron with a series of Mayan-looking hieroglyphs on it, said. "We honor her dietary beliefs. For those who prefer animal protein, like the Ladies Q and Air, we have another cooking area." She pointed towards a series of grills several hundred feet away.

"Oh," Ellen said. "I suspect we'll be eating both. Portia prefers eating things that weren't cute and cuddly before becoming food."

"You'll want to keep her away from my sister then," a delicate looking blonde said, joining her at the grill.

"Your sister's Lady Q?" Ellen asked.

"I just call her Quinn, or Quinnie when she's being obnoxious," the other woman said, whose name, if she remembered it correctly, was Frannie. "But not near her fan club."

"She has a fan club?" Ellen turned to look at Quinn who was in a deep discussion with one of the men who'd been identified as one of Rachel's fathers. She hadn't had a chance to talk with either of Rachel's fathers, though she vaguely remembered them as part of a group that had objected, rightly so in hind sight, to her TV special. She suspected she would have to go apologize to them before leaving.

"They all do," Frannie said. "Though Quinn is the only one who has fans who aren't part of their Clan. A bunch of nerds were stranded here while at an anime convention. That armor of hers and her troopers is right out of a nerds wet dreams."

"It is amazing looking," Ellen said. "I tried to get my own but she wouldn't go for it. Said it would take too long."

"You have to be Clan with a few enhancements for it to work," Frannie said, sighing. "I'd like my own also, though I wasn't a fan of the anime series she borrowed the designs from. She was a closet nerd before she became a cheerleader. I don't qualify either, and I have the same Clan ancestors as she does."

"I was wondering about that," Ellen said. "Rachel and Santana look like they could have Mayan ancestors but Quinn doesn't."

"Santana is half Mayan," Frannie said. "Her mother and her cousin Sophia are full blooded Mayans. Rachel had a real Mayan princess as an ancestor, and the less said about how Clan DNA got into Quinn and myself, and our mother's family, the better."

"Sorry," Ellen said. "Didn't realize it was a sensitive subject."

"Only if you're Santana," Frannie said, shaking her head. "She's not a fan of the Conquistadors."

"Isn't that really what they are doing?" Ellen asked. "They've landed on our shores with their fancy things and are taking it from the natives in exchange for beads and blankets. Metaphorically speaking."

"No," Frannie said. "Unlike the Conquistadors, the Clan have ethics. Unless a disaster happens, we'll be better off when they are done, not the opposite."

"Oh," Ellen said, hoping she hadn't put her foot in it again. Where was her wife when she needed help? Looking around, she could see her talking with Rachel and a similar looking older woman.

"Have you met Rachel's mother yet?" Frannie asked, after giving her a few minutes to think.

"No, I haven't," Ellen said.

"You'll like her," Frannie said. "I'm probably biased but Shelby's an amazing person. Come along."

"So, what's the verdict?" Santana said, plopping down onto a large pillow in their joint lounge.

"I like both of them," Rachel said.

"No surprise," Santana grumbled. "Q?"

"I think Ellen is lucky she has Portia," Quinn said. "She's fairly intelligent but she tends to speak before she thinks."

Brittany nodded. "She's Ellen's me," she said.

"I'm not like Ellen," Santana protested.

"You're occasionally impulsive," Brittany said. "Just like her. If you didn't have me you'd be in serious trouble."

"Duh," Santana said. "But did Ellen's visit serve its' purpose? Besides adding to my confusing family tree and making Sophia happy."

"I believe so," Rachel said. "After our appearances on her show, we should be more approachable. Not so scary for the ordinary person."

"We'll know soon," Brittany said. "But it'll take a few years before people see us and ours and don't automatically say 'alien'."

"And then we spring the next part of our plan on them?"

"Probably sooner," Brittany said. "We need to start building infrastructure in other places."

"Need a backup planet-side base for my flyers," Santana said. "Somewhere in Australia or Mongolia."

"But first the Yucatan," Quinn reminded them. "We have a long way to go before it is what we plan it to be, right Artie?"

"Yes, Lady Quinn. You've really only begun the process."

"Are we ready to lower the shield?" Santana said. "And open the floodgates?"

"Not yet," Brittany said. "But we can end the communication blackout as planned. And the cruise lines are asking for permission to allow their ships to doc at Cancun again."

"So, turn off the blackout and let those tourist dollars come in, in small doses?" Santana said.

"Yes, San."

"Yes."

"Definitely," Rachel added.

"I believe that we're ready for the next phase, Lady Air," Artie said.

"Go for it."

"Go for it? And you call me lame?" Quinn muttered.

"You are," Santana said.

"No, you are," Quinn said, throwing a pillow at Santana.

"They're never going to grow up," Rachel said to Brittany, watching the ensuing pillow fight.

"I know, right?" Brittany said, sighing. "Good thing we're the ones really in charge."

"Yup," Rachel said, nodding.

Kurt yawned, trying to keep his eyes open as they waited for their bus to the hotel. It had been a long couple days to get to this point. In the morning they would all get on another bus and head down to the cruise ship that would take them to Cancun. It was billed as an exotic trip to alien lands, and had filled up fairly quickly. If it hadn't been for Artie's network connections they wouldn't have gotten tickets this soon after the aliens had started allowing a slow trickle of hand picked tour groups to visit their enclave.

"I've been doing some research," Artie said, looking up from his tablet. "These so-called aliens have mostly stayed out of the public eye."

"They were on Ellen," Mercedes said in protest. "They were personally interviewed by her."

"And that is the only time they've spoken to anyone who isn't a government official. Several of them, the two who look like Rachel Berry and Brittany Pierce, have met with the president and spoke to the UN. The other two, who look like an older Quinn Fabray and Santana Lopez, have only appeared on Ellen."

"Maybe they're clones?" Puck said, taking a sip from a large bottle of water. "I bet it's all done with make-up. Don't clones have all sort of issues? Like they dissolve if you spray them with soda?"

"That was 'synthodrones' on Kim Possible, not clones," Artie said, shaking his head.

"Drones, clones, same diff," Puck said. "I bet they only look human from a distance. They probably have Rachel and the three Cheerios frozen on their space ship somewhere."

"That's what we're here to find out," Artie said.

"So, Mr. Alien Hunter, what's the plan?" Mercedes asked.

"Enjoy the cruise until we get there," Artie said. "and then we track them down. It shouldn't be hard to prove if they're who we think they are. Then my crew and I do some filming, hopefully of them in action, and we go home. Kurt and Mercedes write up their story for their favorite gossip mags, I post my version on my Tube channel. We do the rounds of the talk shows. Profit."

"And Puck and Finn? What are you two getting out of it?"

"I just want my girlfriend back," Finn said, nervously playing with his sunglasses.

"You broke up with both of them before they were kidnapped," Kurt said irritably. "If it is them, they probably don't even remember that little part of their Lima life."

"If it's them, we rescue them and take them home to their families," Puck said.

"Rachel's dads are out of town. Some vacation they won," Artie said. "Brittany's parents disappeared several years ago, and Santana's family is also out of town."

"And Quinn?" Kurt asked, curious about the extent of Artie's knowledge.

"Her parents moved to Israel."

"So, Puck, now what?"

"It'll give us time to deprogram them," he said. "They've obviously been brainwashed."

"I did discover a curious thing," Artie said. "Coach Sylvester quit her job. No one knows where she went but her helpers wore uniforms like the aliens."

"So, the aliens have called her home to their mothership," Puck said. "No surprise there."

"Where did you hear this?" Kurt asked.

"Assorted sources," Artie said. "Have you seen this?" he said, going for a distraction. Kurt wasn't fooled. "A couple otaku were at a convention in Cancun and got these shots of the aliens in their armor."

"Okay," Kurt said, looking closely. "They have spacesuits. Big whoop."

"Those are so cool," Puck said, also looking. "Like out of a cartoon."

"Very anime-ish," Artie said. "That's proof one of them is Quinn."

"The bitchy blonde hair is a clue also," Mercedes said.

"That's not what I meant," Artie said. "That design is right out of Quinn's favorite show."

"Quinn was a cheerleader," Mercedes said. "She didn't watch cartoons."

"She did in grade school," Artie said. "Before she joined the Cheerios she was a huge Bubble Gum Crisis fan. I bet she knew every line of dialog."

"Why don't the rest of us know that," Kurt said.

"I did," Finn mumbled. "She brought in some pictures she drew for show-n-tell in fourth grade. She still had the DVDs."

"How'd you know that?" Puck said. "She wasn't allowed to have boys in the house."

"After she disappeared, her parents had a garage sale of all her stuff," Finn said. "I got some cool stuff. Some Iron Man comics and those DVDs. You don't think she'll want them back, do you?"

"Even if she did, she wouldn't admit it," Kurt said. "Doesn't fit the Cheerio image. Except for Brittany. She read Archie comics in class all the time."

"Brittany was a weird girl," Mercedes said. "And there's our bus," she added, standing up.

"Are we there yet?" Kurt asked, feeling queasy. Next time he was flying or driving. No more cruise ships for him.

"We're docking tomorrow morning," Mercedes said, looking down at her itinerary. "We're gonna be in Cancun for three days. That's plenty of time to find them and do some sight seeing."

"What do you think will really happen if we run into them?"

"Well, they can't throw us in jail for saying hi," she said. "But I think they'll be too busy to even notice us."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, nervously gulping to keep breakfast down.

"Have you noticed anything strange about the other passengers on this boat?"

"Ship," Kurt automatically corrected her. "No…"

"I think we're on a boat full of spies and government types," Mercedes said. "They all have that look about them."

"Not all of them," Kurt said, pointing at a group of women sunbathing over by the pool. "They don't look very governmentish."

"Really?" Mercedes said. "What do you want to bet they are spies."

"How do we prove that?" Kurt asked, his voice trailing off as he watched Mercedes go over to them. Shaking his head he quickly followed. Sometimes, Mercedes could be as single minded as Rachel Berry.

"Hey ladies," Mercedes said, in her friendliest voice. They all nodded in return. "My friend and I," she turned to find Kurt right behind her, "have a small bet going. I was hoping you could help."

"Sure, go ahead," said the oldest looking member of the group who was also the most elegant looking, though Kurt wasn't sure why that was since she wasn't dressed in anything recognizably fashionable, to his eyes.

"Well, we've noticed that most of the passengers on this ship," she glanced at Kurt, "really don't seem like the cruise type. They look like they don't get out in the sun often or don't talk to people very much. And most of them haven't gone on any of the excursions. We think they're spies. What do you think?"

"Very badly trained spies," one of the other women said, causing the others to burst into giggles.

"Analysts or decoys for the real thing," said another. "Real spies wouldn't pick such an obvious way to sneak into the country."

"That makes sense," Mercedes said. "But what about you? Isn't your behavior perfect spy behavior? No one would ever think you could be spies."

"Although you do have a point," the first woman said, "how would you prove it Miss Jones and Mr. Hummel?"

"I never told you our names?" Mercedes said, while Kurt gasped.

"No?" the woman said. "There are many ways we could have found out who you are," she said. "We could be, as you suggested, spies. Or we could have other reasons to be aware of your presence on this ship with the famous Alien Hunter Artie Abrams. But I'm sure you have no interest in knowing what those reasons are."

"But…" Mercedes said, before Kurt stopped her with a shake of his head.

"Thank you ladies for your time," he said. "We'll be going now." Forcibly turning Mercedes around he guided her down towards the nearest ship's bar.

"Kurt!" Mercedes protested, accepting the glass he handed her.

"You proved your point," he said. "Do you really want to keep poking them until they do something? I'd like to make it home, not disappear because you cheesed off the wrong person."

"No," Mercedes said, taking a big gulp from her glass. "They know who we are!"

"They know we're with Artie's crew," Kurt said. "They'll probably be watching us the whole time to see if we lead them right to Rachel."

"We can't do that," Mercedes said. "We just want to make sure they're okay, not out them to the Men In Black."

"There are no 'Men In Black'", Kurt said. "If there are, they aren't very good at keeping secrets."

"That's how they work," Mercedes said. "They make you think they couldn't possibly be that obvious and then they point that flashy thing in your face and you forget your own name."

"Let's go find Artie," Kurt said, getting off his bar stool. "He should know about this."

"He won't care," she said. "Except write it into the script for the show he's doing on this trip."

"Hey! Look at the babes," Puck said, pointing at the women on the other side of the pool. "Didn't know M swung that way," he added as they watched Kurt lead Mercedes away from them. "Looks like she got shot down."

"She probably noticed that most of the people on this ship are decoys and decided to check out the wringers," Artie said.

"Wringers?" Finn looked up from the game he was playing on his phone.

"Fakes. Distractions," Artie said. "Most of the people on this cruise ship are spies or pretend spies."

"Pretend spies?" Puck asked.

"According to my sources, half the people on the ship are meant to confuse the aliens when we get to Cancun. While they try to figure out who's a real spy and who's faking it, the real ones will sneak in. Distractions. And that's why we were able to get tickets. They wanted some real people on the ship."

"What about the babes Mercedes was talking to?" Puck asked.

"The odds are pretty high that they are the only real spies on board," Artie said. "Probably for some American three letter agency. Or the Russians. The Chinese already have a listening post in the Yucatan."

"Three letter agency?" Kurt asked, as he and Mercedes joined them.

"CIA, NSA, MIB, that kind of thing," Artie said. "Fortunately, that won't have any affect on our plans. We're not interested in stealing any alien tech or stopping their plans or anything."

"As long as the aliens know this," Kurt mumbled.

"They were able to sneak in, set up their equipment, and take over several million acres of Mexico, and no one saw them coming," Artie said. "I'm sure they know exactly who their friends are. And that's real proof, if it is Rachel Berry or Brittany Pierce or the others, that they're just alien figureheads. No way they'd have the experience to pull something like this off."

"I wouldn't underestimate Quinn Fabray," Kurt said. "Sylvester didn't pick her to be head Cheerio because of her hair color."

"Not buying it," Puck muttered. "Q and Satan were small time high school. Rachel was the one with the balls to try to take over the world. The aliens probably heard her sing and put her in charge. If that's them, I mean. That's what I would do."

Kurt looked at Mercedes and shook his head. He was just hoping for closure. He wanted to know what happened to Rachel Berry all those years ago. Making money from this adventure was just a bonus.

"That was mildly amusing," Schultz said in a low voice. "Did we get a recording of that for Lady Shadow?"

"Of course," Tex murmured. "And we're picking up the Artie Abrams conversation. Someone's clued him in about this ship being a decoy. Or he's not who he claims to be. And they think the Four are just alien puppets."

"I'd like to be there when they find out the truth," April said, leaning forward to sip her drink. "If they don't get buried in a dark hole for the next few years."

"The Ladies don't do that kind of thing," Schultz said.

"Unless you insult Lady Shadow or Lady Rachel in the other's hearing," Tex said. "I don't think the recording of Abrams and the others for this trip are going to gain them any fans."

"Lady Rachel did say that their Glee teammates weren't exactly friends," Schultz said. "I don't think they'll be surprised by any of it."

"I don't know why anyone is fooled by all this?" Peaches said, rolling over and waving at the spy rejects watching them from a distance. "More lotion please, Betty," she said imperiously.

"I'm not your personal masseuse," Betty grumbled, leaning over with a bottle of tanning lotion.

"It's so cute you think so," Peaches said, sighing as Betty rubbed the lotion into her shoulders.

"Ladies, we're not here to get a tan," Schultz said. "We're here to keep a lid on this ship of spy fools. And, pass your suspicions about Abrams to the Shadows. If he's in the business it's buried deeper than we can dig."

"Yes, boss," Tex said.

"Is there anyone else suspicious, beyond the obvious cannon fodder," Schultz asked the others.

"Some of these guys look like they still live in their mother's basement," Jess said. "Or like that guy on that old show about geek scientists. If you want to have some fun, Tex, just walk by them in your little green number."

"Let's save the games for the beach," Schultz said.

"But Schultzie!" Tex whined.

"We're not on vacation," she reminded them. "Don't forget who we work for."

"Lady Shadow wouldn't care," Tex said, pouting. "She'd think it was a great idea!"

"And how many of these guys are watching us to see if we've gone native?" she asked.

"Five," Peaches said. "It was in the pre-op briefing packet from the Shadows."

"That many?" Betty said.

"The President sent his favorite former aide to keep them out of our hair," Schultz said. "She's also going to assess our embassy in Cancun."

"The Ambassador isn't going to like that," Tex said, laughing.

"Couldn't happen to a nicer stooge," Jess added, smirking.

"Ladies, he's one of us," Schultz said. "Go easy on the sarcasm in public."

"Yes Boss," they all chorused, before bursting into laughter.