Author's Note: Andy Sachs and assorted others from The Devil Wears Prada will return in Chapter 10.
Word Count: 3,313

Looking at the others as they settled into their preferred seats in their private meeting room aboard Santana's flagship, Rachel sighed. "We have a request," she said. "Someone just realized that we have spaceships and spaceflight."

"This is news? How do they think we got here? Walked?" Santana said. "Every time one of my shuttles flies by that creaky old space station some weapons satellite points its missiles at it."

"Which government has weaponized satellites?" Quinn asked, eyes widening. "Why haven't you mentioned this before?"

"There are at least ten," Brittany said quickly. "And we took control of them before we landed the first time. They weren't working anyway. So we were doing them a favor when we upgraded them, not that they noticed the changes."

"So, why do they target my shuttles?" Santana asked. "What if one of them accidentally went off and hit a shuttle."

"Like I said, they are actually under our control. If they tried to fire those missiles at one of our ships, nothing would have happened. And even if they did, they wouldn't damage anything through your shields. And they track everything crossing their orbit," Brittany said. "Whatever they see is fed into your combat data systems." She pulled up a monitoring program on the room's view screen. "See?"

"Oh," Santana said. "I thought that was coming from some of your secret satellites."

"No need for that, when we can jack into our sensors hidden in those," Brittany said, winking at her girlfriend. "Much more efficient."

"Sneaky," Rachel said, nodding. "But back to the issue. Now that they've remembered we have space ships, probably because someone opened their big mouth last week at that press conference, we've gotten a request from NASA."

"What do those old antiques want?" Santana said. "We aren't running a shuttle service for their toys. No need for them to explore anymore. We've got the franchise for exploiting this solar system all sewed up."

"It's a good will gesture," Rachel said. "They've lost radio contact with the International Space Station."

"So, they want us to take over some bodybags?" Santana said. "That thing is about as safe as a go-kart on the autobahn. We can do that."

"No," Rachel said, wide eyed in shock at her callousness, "the astronauts are still alive, as far as they know. They just need replacement radios."

"We should probably take some with us just in case," Santana said, grimacing. "Where do we get the radios? And don't they have backups? Those engineers at NASA are paranoid about that kind of thing. Their backups have backups."

"They didn't say," Rachel said. "I think these are their backup radios that need to be replaced."

"It could be a trap," Quinn said. "I'm going with you."

"I didn't say I was going," Santana said. "I've got better things to do, and I have people trained for rescue missions that could use the practice."

"I'm still going," Quinn said firmly.

"If you just want to check it out, I'm sure we can arrange an official visit," Brittany said. "It hasn't changed in years. Not since you toured their assembly plant in grade school. NASA has a very tight budget now-a-days."

"Brit!" Quinn said. "Aren't I allowed any secrets?"

"From my girl?" Santana chortled, "I don't get to keep any secrets, so why should you?"

"Do we have room in our budget to help them out?" Rachel said.

"It's gonna cost them," Santana said, rubbing her hands together gleefully. "We aren't a charity."

"It's called a 'Good Will' gesture," Rachel said again, glaring at her.

"NASA isn't the only group that noticed we have space flight," Brittany said, interrupting them. "Word on the Hill is that they won't have a budget soon. All the money will be reallocated for military uses."

"Short sighted," Quinn said, shaking her head.

"Very," Brittany said, "But they won't listen to aliens. They just see a way to not spend money on things they don't think they'll need."

"So, when they lose most of their budget do we hire them?" Quinn asked. "Trained engineers?"

"I might have a plan already in place," Brittany said. "I've been discussing the possibilities with the American president and his advisors. It wouldn't be that simple to integrate them into our operation," she said, "but I think we can use a bunch of smart people, if they don't mind working with a bunch of girls. So don't offend them!"

"Wasn't planning to," Quinn said. "You can tell them we'll do it. Did they say where to get this radio?"

"They said a mission specialist needs to install it," Rachel said, looking at Santana. "But nothing about the pickup location."

"I'm definitely not going on this bus trip," Santana said. "Not if you want me to be nice to them. And they don't get to touch anything in the shuttle, no matter how smart they think they are."

"I'll tell them that," Rachel said. "What else do we need to talk about?"

"Guys, we need to deal with the Black Hats. We can't keep them on ice forever," Brittany said.

"Why not?" Santana said. "The Schuester a permanent popsicle? Couldn't happen to a better person."

"And if they're just the fall guys for someone else?" Brittany asked, leaning forward.

"You don't think they were really in charge, do you," Santana said, slouching back in her chair. "What proof do you have?"

"We've just finished going through everything we found in their base and that secret hideout under the firehouse. It looks like they were in charge but there are anomalies. All of their communications were monitored from another location we haven't been able to locate yet. I think there's another group who've gone to ground, the real leaders. If we don't root them out soon they'll start recruiting and could pop up again at the worst time possible."

"Okay," Santana said. "As soon as the Q gets back from her mercy mission, we'll thaw them out and you can get out the thumbscrews."

"I don't use thumbscrews anymore," Brittany said. "Those are nasty and hard to clean."

"It's just an expression, babe," Santana said. Brittany winked at her.

"I can't believe he has anything to do with the Black Hats," Rachel said. "He just doesn't seem the type."

"Evil overlord?" Santana said. "He's got the hair."

"He doesn't even ping as a trusted minion," Rachel said. "And he never set off any of Coach's alarms."

"That is true," Quinn said. "Coach was just as surprised as us."

"Is she going to be participating in the interrogation?" Rachel asked

"She doesn't think he's worth the effort," Quinn said. "Or that we'll learn anything new from them."

"She's probably right," Santana said, "but we do need to find out why he was there. Minion, patsy, or evil overlord. Ryerson and St. James? I can smell their guilt from here."

"We'll need to fumigate afterward," Brittany said, giggling. "Or toss the interrogation room into the sun."

"Fumigation should be enough," Quinn said. "If that's it we should get going. The sooner we deal with NASA the sooner we can finish up with the floppy Black Hats."

"I thought you weren't going," Quinn asked, finding Santana in the pilot seat of the long range shuttle being prepared for the trip to the space station.

"I don't trust them to not scratch the paint or kill my techs," Santana said, "so I'm driving. Just make sure everyone is in an EV suit that fits. That hard suit you're wearing might be a bit of overkill for a tourist stop."

"It takes up just as much room as an EV suit," Quinn said. "And is tougher."

"Your kink," Santana said with a shrug. "If you don't want to wear something more comfortable, that's your call."

"Were's the pickup?" Quinn asked.

"They've cleared a place for us near their module assembly building. Rachel convinced them to give us landing clearance," Santana said. "If she wasn't our Memory, I'd scoop her up for the Fleet. That woman gets things done."

"You've got all of those Rachel engineers," Quinn said, "don't be greedy. And isn't that one of your engineers in the back?"

"Chief? The one chatting up your bodyguards?" Santana said. "She insisted. Doesn't think anyone NASA is going to send up knows what they are doing."

"She does know mission specialists spend years becoming qualified? And most of the mission specialists are also qualified test pilots?"

"But they aren't Clan certified," Santana said. "And she might have heard we might be absorbing NASA at some point."

"So, she's on a recruiting trip? We don't even know if this mission specialist can qualify on our tech," Quinn said.

"Have to start somewhere," Santana said. "Artie's already scanned all of the NASA facilities. They've got a twenty percent Dragon Clan heritage potential, and a one percent Tiger Clan potential. Brit's kids are narrowing that down to find the real numbers. In their free time, of course, since we don't own them yet."

"Jumping the gun a bit?" Quinn said. Santana shrugged and pointed at the empty co-pilot seat.

"Go strap yourself down, and tell my co-pilot to stop trying to get in your guards panties and get back up here."

"Yes, Lady Air Bitch, ma'am," Quinn said, giving her a faux salute. Stepping towards the back, she found her guards chatting with the other occupants, Santana's Chief and the Chief's assistant. "Ladies."

"Yes, ma'am," they all said, coming to attention.

Looking at her guards, the Chief, and her assistant, "Strap in, and you, Chief, your presence has been requested by our pilot," Quinn said.

"Yes, Lady Q, going now," Chief said, hurrying off, her assistant following.

"We were just chatting," Pin said, waving towards the cockpit. "No harm done."

"No distractions," Quinn told them. "We have no idea what's going on up there. Plenty of time for whatever you were doing when we get back."

"Yes, Boss," they both said, grinning, before sitting down across from Quinn.

"Here's Artie's most recent scans of the space station," Quinn said, sending the info packets to their suits. "NASA appears to be correct that the crew is still alive, but there doesn't seem to be any equipment damage she can find, so be careful."

"You think it's a trap?" Pin asked.

"Unknown," Quinn said. "If it is, it isn't NASA."

"Okay, peanuts, next stop Houston," Santana said on the public comm channel, "for cargo and passenger pick-up."

"That's a large radio," Santana said, watching two techs wheeling the equipment across the tarmac to the shuttle.

"It's more than just a radio," the mission specialist, Wren Yamoto, said. "The module includes backups for all station electronics. The radio and backup telemetry failed, so it was decided to replace the whole thing."

"And you get to plug it in?" Santana asked the small woman.

"And dismantle the old one for spare parts," she said.

"We'll need to get you into one of our EV suits for the trip up," the Chief said. "We don't have fittings for all those hoses on your suit. Haven't seen a suit with that much hardware since history class in grade school. Good thing we have one that should fit."

"Chief," Quinn said from her position watching the loading. "A little sensitivity. They do a dangerous job with the tech they have."

"Sorry, Lady Q," Chief said. At the curious look from the mission specialist, she added, "Lady Q was reminding us about a couple things."

"Make sure that thing is secure in the back," Santana said, watching the Chief and her assistant guiding it up the ramp. "As soon as all the paperwork is filled out, we can leave."

"Lady Q doesn't look too happy," Pin said, watching her discuss something with a uniformed bureaucrat.

"That's our Pentagon liaison," Wren said. "He wanted to send one of the Air Force specialists with us, but someone called Lady M said there wasn't room or time to get a larger shuttle."

"It's a long walk back," Santana said. "We like you so you can hitch a ride back with us. Some military agent we didn't approve? They can find their own way home."

"The Boss doesn't really mean that," said the Chief.

"Don't presume to speak for me, Chief, " Santana said, "not unless you want to be scrubbing launch tubes on Pluto."

"You have a base on Pluto?" Wren asked. "All of our in system optics and radio telescopes have been acting up since you showed up."

"Ah… that might be because of our ship's drives, or other equipment," the Chief said. "You have to adjust your equipment to accommodate the interference."

"Or it might be intentional," Pin said. "Lady Air doesn't like anyone snooping on her fleet."

"Speaking out of school, Pin?" Santana said on a com channel only Quinn and her guards used. "I might have an opening for staff security at the Pluto research center."

"Though that's just scuttlebutt. You'd have to talk with the Shadows about such security measures, I'm just a regular trooper," Pin said to the NASA employee.

"Good save," Santana said.

"The Shadows?" Wren asked.

"They're like your CIA, NSA, and Secret Service wrapped up in one neat little package," Santana said, joining them as they watched the Chief secure the equipment. "They probably know more about you now than your or your government does."

"I'm just a mission specialist," Wren said. "Nothing exciting or interesting about me."

"Not according to Lady Shadow," Santana said. "Let's see… what did she find in the ten pips you've been standing here. Hmm… you're a member of the diaspora. A Mayan priestess escaped from a Spanish merchant passing through the Philippine islands. Or so she claimed in her memoirs, though how she ended up in Tokyo she never said. What else? Oh, this is a good one. You missed out at being first in your class at Annapolis by five points. They gave you a choice between NASA or Naval intelligence, and you picked NASA, even though they only had a mission specialist spot open. You really want to go into space. And you resigned your commission a month ago after an argument with a recruiter from some three letter agency. And you write hard core science fiction under an assumed name. Lady Shadow just optioned them for her video production company. They must be good."

"She's that good?" Wren asked the Chief, who'd just rejoined them after securing the package.

"Yes," the Chief said. "The only way to keep Lady Shadow from finding something out is to not do it. Rumor has it, her girlfriend has surprised her once since they met."

"Twice," Santana said, correcting her. "I've surprised her twice since she was five. If I manage to surprise her a third time she'll marry me. And you didn't hear that from me," she said to the three women staring at her in shock.

"It's not a rumor if you spread it yourself, Fleet," Quinn said, joining them. "Paperwork's all done. We stick around until Yamoto is happy with the repairs, and then bring her home. So, we're ready when you are."

"Okay, everyone on board and strap down," Santana said, turning around and going back into the shuttle. "And someone kill that signal coming from our package so we can leave."

"Signal?" Wren said. "It should be inert until I plug it into the ISS. There shouldn't be any signals coming from it."

"Chief?" Quinn said.

"Got it Lady Q," the Chief said, slipping out of her seat. Pulling a small gadget out of her outer EV pocket, she twisted it and aimed the resulting light at the large package.

"Sonic screwdriver?" Wren asked. "Doctor Who isn't a real person, is he?"

"Nah," the Chief said. "Not all of us are Trekkies. Squeezing all of my favorite diag tools into it was an interesting exercise."

"Stop trying to impress the natives, Chief, and clear my shuttle for lift," Santana said.

"One of those modules is a fake," the Chief said. "Someone doesn't like you. Looks like it'll burn out everything it's attached to when you plug it in. And, it might also explode."

"Turn it off," Santana said. "And get it out of there, in one piece if possible," she added. "The Shadows will want to take a look at it."

"Gonna need more than this to take it apart," the Chief said, waving her probe. "Putting it in stasis. You can lift now."

"We can't take it to the ISS," Wren said. "It will destroy it."

"Not yet," Santana said. "Lady M is informing your government of the problem. Guess you'll get to see more of us than we planned."

"San?" Quinn said. "What's the plan?"

"Flag is behind the moon. We'll go there, Chief and Yamoto can fix the package, and we'll sic B and her gang on whomever tried to give us a bad hair day."

"Good. We don't need these kinds of games," Quinn said. "Brit?"

"Already on the ground at Kennedy," she said, her voice echoing in the small shuttle. "Someone in NASA has to be involved for it to be booby trapped. We'll take care of this end."

"Ouch," Quinn said. "I think we just made a down payment on some rocket scientists."

"You're taking over NASA?" Wren asked. "Can you do that?"

"Just the civilian part. We've been working on an outsourcing agreement with your president. But it wasn't supposed to take affect until your Congress dropped all funding for NASA. Which we were predicting for two years from now. So we're jumping the gun a bit here," Santana said. "It'll probably take a year or two for anything major to happen other than we start paying NASA's bills. And start taking an inventory. And your Congress has to agree but I don't think they'll object to more money to spend on pork."

"So I don't get to use my recruitment speech?" the Chief said, disappointed. "It was a really good one."

"She hasn't said she's sticking around when Fleet takes them over," Pin said. "But I'm sure she'll think about it, right?"

"Yes, I'll think about it," Wren said, "but can we get this fixed first?"

"Next stop, Fleet Flag, ladies," Santana said. "Hang on."

With a subtle whine, the shuttle rose from the tarmac and disappeared into the sky.

Brittany waited until the shuttle was out of sight before telling her pilot to decloak. "Let's go rattle a few cages," she said. "Not liking people who try to blow up my people. How do I look? Vader Evil or Khan evil?"

"Vader would run away if he saw you dressed like that," her assistant said. "Khan would have just laughed."

"Excellent. As soon as they get the call from the Pres, we'll make our appearance."

"Yes, ma'am," she said. "Black and Purple teams are waiting for your signal."

"The President is holding an emergency session with Congress," Rachel said on the private Council channel. "He's given us authority to find out who tried to kill everyone on the space station. It'll take a couple days to convince them to turn the whole thing over to us."

"Good enough for now," Brittany said. "My best tech is waiting for them on the Flag."

"Got it," Rachel said. "It's all yours."

"And lock everything down," Brit told her techs, "No comms in or out of this place until we're done."

"Yes, Lady Shadow," they said.

"Purple, the exits are all yours. Black, let's make this look good," Brittany said. Her comm beeped as the shuttles containing Black and Purple teams decloaked. Stepping to the hatch, she stood in plain sight as it opened.

As she stepped onto the tarmac, surrounded by Black team, a sweating, red faced bureaucrat came hurrying out to meet her.