Disclaimer: Update - 'Green Acres' - a character background slightly borrowed - not mine.
Pairings/Characters: Brittany/Santana, Quinn, Rachel, Shelby Corcoran, Frannie Fabray, Judy Fabray, others mentioned.
Word Count: 5,332 ( 6 of 9 )

Judy Fabray was many things, but happy wasn't one of them. At the ripe old age of fifty, though she liked to think her appearance hadn't changed in over a decade, she'd learned many things, and lost more. She had a husband she couldn't afford to divorce, and two daughters she hadn't seen in years. One through her own choice, and the other taken away by someone unknown and never to be seen again. Drinking had only dulled the pain, and ruined her health.

She wasn't quite sure where she was now. The last thing she remembered was walking down a street in Jerusalem after a very loud and public shouting match with Russell. The man became crazier and more dogmatic as he aged, and she'd about had enough of his nonsense. If the Rapture ever happened and she stayed behind, she'd be extremely happy to spend the rest of her life without his presence.

Things were a bit blurry after that. Out of focus people asking her where her youngest was, showing her pictures of some strangely dressed woman, claiming it was her and asking when she'd last had contact.

They hadn't believed her when she said it had been years and that Lucy had disappeared years ago on the way home from a school trip, probably to spite her father. That was the only thing that made sense. Because that woman couldn't be her Lucy. Her Lucy had always been a quiet girl. Shy and a bit of a bookworm. Not some hardened looking blonde Amazon.

And the other photos? They could be Lucy's missing friends. None of it made sense, and Russell had been adamant that the alien invasion in Mexico was a hoax. Something the Anti-Christ was using to fool people into joining him. Not that he knew who the Anti-Christ was, but their minister, the one who'd convinced Russell and a few others that moving to Israel to wait for the Rapture was the thing to do, had claimed he would reveal himself soon.

Judy had had enough of that nonsense, and had told Russell she was going home. He could sit out in the desert and wait for the Rapture. Finding out he'd sold the house and had put their possessions into storage, the ones that hadn't sold anyway, had been the last straw. She still had the information from the hotel contest in Cancun, he hadn't been able to sell that, and her passport. A month near the beach to plan what to do next had seemed like a good idea.

Her head ached, and her mouth tasted like she'd been drinking for a week, though she knew that wasn't possible. She hadn't had a drink of any sort in months. Their hosts at the kibbutz had been non-drinkers. Feeling around with her hands, she discovered she was laying on something soft and bed like, with a faint antiseptic smell, though not in that overbearing way like a hospital room.

Opening her eyes, she found herself looking up at a white tile ceiling. Sitting up was a slight struggle, her arm muscles feeling weak and rubbery. But once she was more vertical than horizontal, she could see that she was on a low bed of some sort in a small featureless room. Everything was a shade of white and there wasn't a window. She tried to move her legs off of the bed but couldn't find the strength.

"Please remain in the bed," a feminine voice somewhere in the room said calmly. "Someone will be with you shortly."

"Where am I," Judy asked, her dry throat causing her to cough.

"Someone will be with you shortly," the voice said again. This time she noticed a faint accent, as if the owner of the voice was not a native English speaker.

Judy collapsed back onto the bed, having used up what energy she had available. She could feel the signs of an oncoming panic attack, something she hadn't had in years, since Lucy's disappearance. Closing her eyes, she started breathing as deeply as possible, trying to remember what the doctor had told her to do the last time this had happened.

Her panic attack or the beginning of one had almost disappeared when she felt a hand on her forehead. Blinking, she found herself looking up at her eldest daughter, dressed in a very colorful outfit decorated with symbols that were faintly familiar, something she could imagine her great-great grandmother wearing, the granddaughter of a Mayan princess and the Hungarian mercenary who saved her from slavery, not that she'd ever told Russell, or her daughters, about that skeleton in her family closet.

"Frannie?" Judy whispered, "You're here?"

"Hello Mother," Frannie said. "How are you doing?"

"I yelled at your father," she said, her voice cracking. "He sold my house. Told me I didn't need it anymore. I was so angry. Right in front of Minister Holkum. Called him hokum to his face right in front of the Wailing Wall." She tried to laugh at her own joke but started coughing instead.

"Drink this," Frannie said, holding out a glass with a long straw that she seemed to pull out of thin air, as far as Judy could tell. "It'll help."

"Where am I?" Judy asked, after a sip of whatever was in the glass, some kind of tart juice. "What happened, I feel so tired."

"Do you get a letter about winning a trip to Cancun?" Frannie asked.

"Yes," Judy said, after taking another sip. "I was going to go there, I think, after I left your father. Need to decide."

"Decide what?"

"What to do with me," Judy said, frowning. "Was there really an invasion? Aliens? Your father said it was a plot by the Anti-Christ. It didn't make much sense."

"It was real," Frannie said. "No Anti-Christ."

"Oh," Judy said sadly. "Can't go to Cancun, then, can I. Great-grandmama used to talk about the beaches. Her mother lived in a village near them."

"You're welcome to stay with me," Frannie said. "We have a beach house there. Lots of sand."

"Who is we?" Judy asked. "I'm really tired," she added.

"We can talk later, Mother," Frannie said.

"Stay?" Judy asked. "Please? Don't want to lose another daughter. I miss Lucy," she said, closing her eyes.

"I'll be here when you wake up," Frannie said.

"Good," Judy said.

"That seemed to go well," Shelby said, waiting for Frannie outside. "No yelling or crying."

"No, just a tired old woman," Frannie said. "She had a fight with Russell. I think she was on her way here when they kidnapped her."

"Ah," Shelby murmured. "Did you want to go get something to eat? Artie will let us know when she wakes up."

"Okay." Holding out her hand, she pulled Shelby up into a hug. "Brittany said it might take her a while to recover. She's not young."

"Are you going to tell Quinn?"

"That she's here?"

Shelby nodded.

"They're all so connected," Frannie said. "It's impossible to keep secrets like this for very long. It's a miracle Brittany was able to keep her presence a secret while she was unconscious. Now that she's awake, someone will blab to Quinn if I don't tell her myself. Mother says she misses Lucy."

"Lucy?"

"Lucy Quinn Fabray," Rachel said, joining them at the cafeteria entrance. "Also known as Lady Q, the Hand of the Dragon, the She Devil of the Yucatan, and other lest interesting names that will baffle Clan historians centuries from now."

"Does she know you're writing the Sagas of Lady Quinn?" Frannie asked, laughing.

"It's my job to record the feats of important Clan leaders," Rachel said with a shrug. "I'm doing one for Santana also. And Brittany, though she denies she's the one who keeps deleting it."

"Set to music, I suspect," Shelby said, also laughing.

"I'm working on it," Rachel said. "Quinn and Santana are easy. Brittany is slippery and defies categorization."

"What brings you here?" Frannie asked. "This isn't your usual hangout."

"Hospitals? No, not really my favorite place, even a Clan hospital, with all that medical messiness kept out of sight," Rachel said. "One of my assistants discovered an allergy to a local delicacy, and fell down some stairs when her face swelled up and she couldn't see."

"Ouch," Shelby said. "I hope she's alright."

"She'll recover, though she says she's never eating anything that bites back again."

"Bites back?" Frannie said.

"You don't want to know," Rachel said, shaking her head. "How is your mother doing?"

"She woke up," Frannie said. "Seems a bit disoriented. That gas packs quite a punch."

"Been there, hated that," Rachel said, wincing. "Fortunately, we have a shot. Unfortunately, it only works if you've been hit by that gas at least once. Her age probably doesn't help."

"No," Frannie said. "She's always looked younger than she is but that didn't help her this time."

"You'll want to warn her about Sophie, Santana's cousin," Rachel said. "She hasn't had any luck nailing down where your family branched off the Clan lineage. It leaves a hole in her diaspora theory and she's a bit anxious about it."

"Mother was mumbling something about the beaches of Cancun and a great grandmother, so it's possible she actually knows something," Frannie said. "When Russell wanted to have a genealogist document her side of the family tree, she refused to participate."

"Sounds like there's a skeleton in that closet," Shelby said.

"Nah, that's just Quinn," Frannie said, smirking. "Some day, some ambitious person is going to drag her out kicking and screaming."

"That's not nice," Rachel said. "Outing someone without their consent is not ethical. And why do you think she's gay?"

"She's been setting off my gaydar since she was ten," Frannie said. "And I'm never wrong."

"Oh," Rachel said, looking nervously at her mother, who winked at her.

"I'm not sure what Mother will say when she finds out," Frannie said. "Supposedly she was a bit of a rebel in college but that was a long time and a homophobic husband ago."

"Quinn appears to have her head firmly on her shoulders," Shelby said. "I wouldn't worry."

"Shelby?" Rachel asked, several minutes later, while Frannie was across the room poking at something on the salad bar.

"Yes?"

"What's really going on between the two of you?"

"Right now? Friends," Shelby said. "Occasionally with benefits," She addd with a smirk. "If Quinn is anything like her sister, you might want to latch onto her before someone else does."

"Okay, that I didn't need to hear," Rachel said. "You know, my job includes being the official record keeper for the Clan. And Santana's cousin is a priestess of the Dragon Clan, and can marry the two of you. Or Santana if you just want to make it official, with no ceremony."

"Married?" Shelby said, looking faint.

"If Frannie is anything like Quinn," Rachel said with a smirk, "she'll be into traditions like marriage. It's a Fabray thing."

"Actually, Stepford wives is a Fabray thing," Frannie said, appearing suddenly behind Shelby. "Mother is a 'Douglas' and that's a whole 'nother ball of certified crazy. Becoming a Fabray was actually a step down for her. As for marriage, that isn't something we've discussed."

"So where does the Clan fit into that?" Rachel asked. "There must be some Mayan ancestor in your family tree? And not a minor one."

"No idea," Frannie said.

"Lady Francine, your mother is asking for you," Artie said.

"Shouldn't she still be sleeping?" Frannie said. "And what's Quinnie doing here?" She pointed out the window at several armored figures, one in the distinctive colors of the Hand.

"Couldn't tell you," Rachel said, "but I can distract if necessary."

"You do that," Shelby said, waving her away.

"Hey Quinn," Rachel said. "Are you okay?"

Flipping her helmet down, Quinn gave Rachel a puzzled look. "Brittany said I needed to come down here."

"And she didn't say why, did she," Rachel said.

"No," Quinn said. "Not even a hint. Do you know?"

"Possibly," Rachel said, looking at the faceless troopers with Quinn. "A little privacy might be advisable."

"We'll meet back at the command center in two hours," Quinn said. Without a sound, they left, travelling almost faster than the eye could follow.

"That's creepy," Rachel said.

"What?"

"All the conversations I can't hear because you're talking over comm channels I can't access."

"It's really nothing exciting," Quinn said. "They're soldiers. You really don't want to listen to them chatting. They can be worse than a room full of Pucks."

"No, I don't want to hear that," Rachel said quickly.

"So, what's going on," Quinn asked, laughing at her response.

"Someone tried to kidnap your mother again and they almost got away with it," Rachel said. "Brittany's surveillance crew was able to rescue her but she got a huge whiff of that nerve gas the Men In Black like to use. So they brought her back here to recover."

"My mother? Is here?" Quinn asked.

"Do you want to see her?"

"I don't know," Quinn said. "She probably thinks I'm dead. Seeing me will probably give her a heart attack. Does Frannie know?"

"Yes, though she said your mother is really out of it. It made me feel crappy for days, even with the antidote. I can't imagine how someone your mother's age would react to the stuff."

"Artie? Can I see my mother without her knowing?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, Lady Q," Artie said. "Feeding your personal channel now."

Quinn quickly put her helmet back up.

"Rude," Rachel said, resisting the impulse to poke her. The armor looked sort of like plastic in spots but it was really, really hard, as her fingers had painfully learned.

"I think I'll go introduce myself to your mother," Rachel said. "You keep doing the spying thing."

"How's she doing?" Rachel asked, sitting down next to her mother outside of Judy Fabray's room.

"Still a bit out of it," Shelby said. "I don't think she has any idea where she is. Why was Lady Q here?"

"Brittany told her to come here, but didn't tell her why," Rachel said. "Sometimes, Brittany can be too clever for her own good. Quinn doesn't like anyone interfering with her personal life. She isn't going to be too happy, once she realizes she's been manipulated into something she isn't ready for."

"You really care for her," Shelby said. "Do your fathers know?"

"I'm not looking for your approval," Rachel said. "But no, they think we're just friends. And we are. Just friends I mean."

"You probably don't want to hear any more of my advice," Shelby said. "But sometimes you need to just stop pretending and live your life."

"You're correct," Rachel said. "I appreciate the spirit in which it was given, but I don't need it."

"Understood," Shelby said.

"Shelby? Could you come in here?" Frannie shouted.

"My cue," Shelby said, shaking her head at Rachel's laughter. "Just wait until your possible future mother-in-law summons you."

"If you and Frannie have your way, that will be my future mother-in-law," Rachel said. "And you'll be my mother and sister-in-law at the same time. Very disturbing. And weren't you just summoned?"

"Yes," Shelby muttered. "Give me a second."

"Shelby?" Frannie shouted again. "Get that cute butt in here."

"Cute butt?" Rachel muttered. "That cute butt better be moving."

"As you wish," Shelby said, winking at her, though only Rachel heard her.

"That's not going to be me," Rachel muttered, pulling her tablet out.

"You're still here?" Quinn said, poking Rachel to get her attention.

"Just hanging out," Rachel said. "You changed. Have I been here that long?"

"Who are you hiding from?" Quinn asked, straightening her uniform. "Didn't want to frighten her. My dirtside office is just on the other side of the parade ground. And some of us are still living on base and haven't set up camp near the beach."

"I sleep in my own bed," Rachel said, "when I'm here."

"And the spare bed at your father's beach house," Quinn said.

"I wouldn't want it to go to waste," Rachel said. "And they really missed me."

"It's fine, Rachel," Quinn said. "Family is family is Clan."

"You could find someplace better too," Rachel said. "Just because there's a cot in your office doesn't mean you have to sleep there every night."

Quinn just shrugged. "I prefer to be close to the command center."

"You can sit and keep me company then," Rachel said.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, "Other than hiding from someone."

"No one," Rachel muttered. "I'm working on a new song. One of Santana's Communication officers wants to start a band with some friends and asked for my help."

"What kind of band?" Quinn asked.

"Originally, a traditional Clan band. But most of the Clan music we have recordings of doesn't really fit modern instruments. Mostly a drum keeping a beat or a-cappella."

"That's surprising. The Clans have existed for millennia. Why no fancy instruments?"

"Different Clans have different approaches to music. And they weren't really that bad. Ours was mostly instrument free or very martial in nature. Fortunately, we can change things. And we will," Rachel said. "This planet has such a wide variety of music. It would be a shame to not take advantage of it."

"So, what's your role in this enterprise?"

"Identifying instruments that are authentic or close to authentic for all of the Clans, not just ours, and then helping them choose which ones, of those, for their band. And helping select music."

"Sounds like you'll be busy with that for a while," Quinn asked.

"Only in the beginning," Rachel said. "They are all talented singers. I suspect they'll pick up their chosen instruments in a short amount of time."

"What have you found so far?" Quinn asked.

"Here," Rachel said, holding her tablet so Quinn to see the screen. "There are at least twenty different instruments among the Clans. Several stringed instruments, like guitars and harps, in several different sizes. Different types of wind instruments, whistles, flutes, and such. Drums in assorted sizes. And variations on those."

"Nothing resembling a piano, though," Quinn said, trying not to let her disappointment show. She'd learned to play under protest, an electric guitar considered too heathen by her father, but had grown to love the sound, and the privacy playing had given her.

"If you want a piano, there are several music stores in our area," Rachel said, excitedly. "The local university has a music program. Let me know when you want to get one and we can check them out."

"Not today," Quinn said. "I'll need to think about it."

"Okay," Rachel said nodding.

"Speaking of," Quinn said. "How goes the effort to get the local schools back up and running?"

"The grade schools and high schools are running again. Santana's mother put a lot of effort into that. The local university is expected to start up classes soon, but they were on a break when we happened and a lot of their faculty have been unable to return."

"Ouch. So no school until the staffing issues are solved? Do we have anyone who can fill in until then?"

"That wasn't an area we focused on, since we have the teaching pods. Brittany has someone going through the missing staff to see who should be allowed to return," Rachel said. "It's a big issue we should have seen coming."

"We can't be expected to know everything," Quinn said. "I know we have plans for improving the educational level of our people, but that wasn't an immediate task."

"As long as we get moving on that," Rachel said. "If we don't, we'll start to lose people we can't afford to. Not just educated but young. Right now, we aren't giving any of them a reason to stick around long term."

"Have they been told that we're paying?" Quinn asked. "Within reason?"

"Only in vague broad terms," Rachel said. "Once we have the details worked out we will."

"Good."

"Quinn? Did you want to see Mother?" Frannie said, sticking her head out of the room. "You can talk with her for a couple minutes."

"Can I just see her?" Quinn asked. "The pictures Brittany took last month didn't really seem like her."

"Of course," Frannie said. "She's not really up for any conversation right now anyway."

Nodding, Quinn rose to her feet and walked over to the door, poking her head in. Shelby was sitting in a corner, reading quietly. Quinn cautiously entered the room, joining her sister at the side of their mother's bed. "She looks so old," Quinn whispered.

"I'm not deaf," Judy muttered, her eyes closed. "Can't an old woman get some rest?"

"Hello, Mother," Quinn said.

"Has it been so long, that you must be so formal? Like your sister?" Judy asked, her eyes still closed. "I know your father and I weren't the best parents but I was never 'Mother' to you."

"I can't speak for Frannie," Quinn said, "but yes, I must be this formal. It has been a lot longer for me than it has for you. Things have changed with me."

"Frannie," Judy whispered, "if I open my eyes will my Quinnie be there or will it be some stranger with her voice?"

"She has an accent now," Frannie said, "and she looks like she could model for one of those fitness magazines you used to read. But she's still Quinn, if slightly more Lucy than she has been in years."

"Oh," Judy whispered. "Please Lucy?" she said hopefully, holding out her hand. "Lucy?"

Quinn stared at her mother's hand, glancing quickly at her sister and Shelby, both of them waiting for her to make some kind of move.

"Lucy? Please?" Judy said again, her voice wavering.

Quinn cautiously reached out with her own hand, and gently grasped her mother's. "Mamma, I missed you so much," she said, her voice cracking. She didn't resist when Judy pulled her down into a hug.

Frannie stepped back, and reached down to grab Shelby's shoulder. Tugging, she pulled her to her feet and led her out of the room. Stopping in front of a curious Rachel, she gestured for silence and then she pulled Rachel to her feet with her other hand, and led both of them down to the commissary.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked. "Where's Quinn?"

"She's with Mother. They needed some private time," Frannie said. "We'll give them an hour."

"She doesn't seem like an evil person," Shelby said. "Just a sad old woman."

"She was never evil," Frannie said. "But, at some point she just stopped being there for us, especially Quinn."

"Quinn decided she wasn't going to be Lucy anymore, when that happened," Rachel said. "That's when she really changed. She thought if she did her mother would notice her again. It didn't help."

"How do you know that?" Frannie asked, curious.

"When she 'grabbed' us, Artie recorded our memories. As part of being the Clan Memory I have access to them."

"That's kind of creepy," Frannie said, shivering.

"And boring," Rachel said, waving her hand in a vaguely dismissive gesture. "Fortunately, Artie created a 'Good Parts' version of just the highlights." "Can anyone see these memories?" Shelby asked, looking faint.

"Not while we're alive," Rachel said. "Only the Clan Memory has access. And it isn't a record of feelings or emotions. It's like a 3D movie with sound."

"Oh," Shelby said. "So, if I could see your memories I wouldn't know how you felt when we first met."

"No, nor would they know how I felt when you decided you couldn't handle a teenage daughter you hadn't raised," Rachel said.

"Did you ever apologize to Rachel for your behavior that year?" Frannie asked. "I know how you felt, but does the other person it really affected know?"

"No," Rachel said, "she hasn't. But she doesn't need to. I've had time to understand, and I'm aware of her behavior after we left, and of how badly she felt."

"You do?" Shelby said.

"You realize, in the Clan there's really no such thing as real privacy, right?" Rachel said. "Everything, and I mean everything, goes into that sponge we call Brittany's brain and gets analyzed and stored away somewhere. Anything you've ever written or spoken, if it's on a computer somewhere, she knows about it."

"So..." Shelby looked helplessly at Frannie, "everything I've ever written, about... anything"

"Yes," Rachel said. "Brittany knows how you really feel. However, she isn't going to share that with everyone. She told me, because she thought I needed to know, but I have not seen what you actually wrote. And she knows how you feel about Frannie and how Frannie feels about you but she hasn't told anyone. She doesn't believe it is any of our business. Though, since this affects me directly I'm not sure why she hasn't," Rachel said, pouting at the last.

"if she doesn't share any of this, what does she do with the information?" Frannie asked.

"I'm not sure I understand it completely myself but she says it's part of her cognitive model. It isn't self aware, like the AI's like Artie, but it lets her make scarily accurate predictions about how people behave in specific situations. It's like a crowd behavior predictor, though it is actually so much more, according to her." Rachel shrugged. "It seems to be very accurate in most cases."

"I would keep that away from the government," Frannie said.

"Which government?" Rachel asked. "We are the government here. We certainly won't let the Men in Black near it. I think Brittany would destroy it before letting them even see it."

"Men in Black?" Shelby said. "Isn't that something from a movie or conspiracy show?"

"Movie? Oh, the Men in Black? No, that's something very different. That was about unrealistic alien immigration. Our Men in Black are a bunch of nasty men who like kidnapping people, and torturing them until they say something they want to hear. Ours are more like the evil guys from the X-Files."

"Who's the cigarette man?" Shelby asked.

"Who? "In the X-Files, that was the guy who misdirected and cleaned things up so Scully and Mulder always failed."

"Oh," Rachel said. "I don't think we've identified anyone like that. Brittany expects to find their leaders any day now but it hasn't happened yet."

Quinn leaned into her mother's hug. "I'm not Lucy anymore," she said quietly. "I'm not sure how much of me is still Quinn either."

Releasing her from her tight grip, and leaning back against her pillow, Judy looked up at her youngest daughter. "You're still my daughter," she said, taking a long look at her. "What does this mean?" she asked, touching a small shiny gold star on her collar. "And what are you wearing?"

"What do you know about the Clans?" Quinn asked.

"Scottish?"

"No, alien," Quinn said.

"That thing that happened in Mexico?" Judy asked. "Your father said it was fake, but your sister said it really happened. I was looking forward to seeing the place your great-great grandmother was from. But I guess it won't be possible now."

"She didn't tell you where you were?" Quinn asked. "The Clan is the name for the aliens who annexed the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico, though the more accurate name is Clan of the Dragon. And you are in the Clan infirmary in our base in Chichen Itza which is right in the middle of the Clan annexation."

"I'm in Mexico?" Judy asked.

"Well, it used to be part of Mexico, but yes," Quinn said. "And... Great-great grandmother?"

"Yes, great-great grandmother. Her grandmother was a priestess of the Serpent cult in Yucatan when she was kidnapped by Spanish slavers. She was rescued by a Hungarian mercenary. I can't remember anything more. Most of her possessions were destroyed during the first world war."

"Oh," Quinn said. "Do you remember Santana?"

"One of the other missing girls, yes? Her mother yelled at your father," Judy said.

"Good! I bet he deserved it," Quinn said. "Her cousin is the head priestess of the entire Serpent Cult. She would have been one if we hadn't been kidnapped by aliens."

"I left your father," Judy said, idly playing with Quinn's fingers. "I just couldn't handle his behavior any longer. He sold my house."

"We can find you another one," Quinn said. "On the beach if you want."

"That kind of thing costs money, Lucy," Judy said. "I have some money in a trust fund I never told your father about. It isn't a lot but it should pay for an apartment in a nice area."

"Money isn't an issue," Quinn said, shaking her head. "I don't have a salary, but I do have spending money of my own as part of the Clan. We have more gold and precious metals than we could sell in a thousand years, though it would ruin the Earth economy if they knew we had it, so we wouldn't try."

"Where did you get it from?" Judy asked.

"The Clan has spaceships. And factories. And miners."

"And they didn't hire you just to spend money, did they," Judy said. "Am I going to like what you were kidnapped to do?"

"Well... it wasn't really a kidnapping. More like being shanghaied and then offered jobs," Quinn said. "But probably not, but that won't happen for years, so we don't need to discuss it yet. For now, all we're doing is setting up our base on the Yucatan."

"And this?" Judy waved at the star and uniform again.

"The star is my rank. Gold means I'm at the top," Quinn said. "I'm in charge of our troopers."

"Troopers?"

"Sort of like Marines, except the ships we use are space ships, and we have real armor," Quinn said. "Sort of looks like the armor from some cartoons you used to let me watch," she added, blushing.

"And I take it, that it wasn't a coincidence it looks like that?" Judy asked, smiling faintly.

"No, not a coincidence, though ours is much better."

"And the other missing girls? Are they working for these aliens also?"

"We're aliens also," Quinn said. "We've just been living here for a while so we look like natives."

"We are?"

"The Mayans are descended from aliens who came here thousands of years ago," Quinn said. "So, anyone with Mayan ancestors has some Clan blood. And that's why they picked us."

"Are you happy?" Judy asked, tightening her grip.

"Getting there," Quinn said. "It's taking me a while to accept the idea that my troopers sometimes have to kill people while doing their job. But I'd rather they stay alive."

"You have always cared," Judy said. "I suspect these troopers of yours are lucky to have you."

"They could have ended up with Santana," Quinn said, shuddering. "That would have been a disaster. She's much better where she is, running the fleet."

"Oh," Judy said, yawning. "I think I need to take another nap," she said. "Will you come back later?"

"Of course," Quinn said. She waited for her mother to fall asleep before leaving her room. "Still here?" she asked, spotting Rachel, Frannie, and Shelby in chairs in the hall.

"Dinner?" Rachel asked all of them.

"Something quick and simple," Quinn said. "I'm going out on patrol with Gold and Blue teams tonight."

"Skydiving?" Frannie said, giving her a knowing look.

"There might be some falling from high altitudes involved," Quinn said with a small grin.

"Sometimes I wonder about your sense of self preservation," Rachel said.

"I don't," Frannie said. "She's living a nerd's dream."

Quinn snorted. "Cafeteria or something at the beach? I've got time for either."

"Beach," Rachel said. Frannie and Shelby nodded in agreement.

"Okay, I'll call for transportation."