Reminder/FYI: Alien AI Artie, not Gleek Artie.
Chapter Summary: A brief pause in the action while our ladies break out the thumbscrews.
Chapter Word Count: 4,091
"Which one are you going to start with?" Quinn asked Brittany, looking at the dozen haggard faces on the screen.
"And how are you doing it?" Rachel asked. She'd never observed Brittany's interrogation techniques before, but knowing several of the detainees she couldn't stay away. "How did you convince the US authorities to let us handle this?"
"We had to compromise. Coach will be observing," Brittany said. "We don't want them revealing any secrets, and they didn't want us to break any of their rules for handling prisoners."
"Hah!" Santana said. "As if they have the moral high ground."
"No," Coach said from the door. "War is never a clean business. But they need to give the appearance of following the rules. We will be starting with that one," she said, pointing at the sole woman. "Failed Broadway star, Cassandra July. And then Hair Gel. Those two are not truly involved with your Black Hats. Ryerson and St. James most likely recruited them without telling them what they were really being recruited for."
"You know something, Coach?" Quinn asked.
"They are amateurs," she said. "They held their little recruiting meeting in my old office, and didn't bother to check for recording devices."
"That would do it," Santana said, smirking.
"What about the other four?"
"They have the look of guilty men I have encountered in the past," she said. "They will lead us to other cells."
"What do you use?" Rachel asked. "We don't use real torture, do we?" She looked at the others.
"We are not amateurs," Coach said disdainfully. "Physical coercion may be briefly satisfying but the intel generated is rarely trustworthy."
"And we said we wouldn't," Brittany said. "We're still the good guys. She doesn't know us, so I'll take her myself," she added. "But first a little chemical enhancement." Following those words, a green mist filled the room containing Cassandra July.
"What did you just do?" Rachel asked. "Some kind of truth gas?"
"Those don't work very well," Brittany said. "Better than torture but real truth drugs tend to scrambled memories. Permanently."
"That's not good," Rachel said.
"Nope. We want answers but we don't want to cause possible brain damage," Brittany said. "That's a mild hallucinogen that will make them talkative and encourage them to answer our questions."
"Oh," Rachel said.
"Shall we Coach?"
"Lead on Lady Shadow," Coach said. "Let's see how well you remember my techniques."
"Photographic memory, Coach," Brittany said as they left the room. "I remember everything you've ever done or said to us."
"Excellent," Coach said.
"And there go some scary women," Rachel said, once they were out of the room. The others nodded. "Has she told either of you what she did to the people who tried to blow up the space station?"
"Not yet," Quinn said. "Other than they weren't Black Hats."
"She let me listen in," Rachel said, shivering. "They didn't have a chance."
"Looks like they're starting," Santana said. "Brit looks hot in that, in a scary dominatrix kind of way."
"Definitely," Rachel said, nodding. "She does sexy intimidation well."
"As long as you remember she's mine," Santana said. "Okay to look, not okay to touch."
"Never going to forget," Rachel said, blushing.
"Good answer," Santana said, patting her on the shoulder.
Brittany entered the small, cold, windowless room. Following her, Coach Sylvester took up a guard position in front of the door. A small frightened looking woman, Cassandra July sat in a metal chair, her wrists shackled to its arms.
"Where am I?" she asked, shivering. "I want my lawyer."
"You haven't been arrested," Brittany said. "And prisoners in our custody are not allowed anything called a lawyer." Coach bent down and whispered in her ear. "Oh? A personal advocate? We don't allow those at this stage in an investigation either."
"Where am I?" she asked again. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"You were in the company of known terrorists," Brittany said. "What do you have to say in your defense?"
"She's guilty," Coach said. "She smells of failure like the rest."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Cassandra said. "It was a meeting of investors for a summer stock theater. We weren't doing anything illegal."
"A meeting in an abandoned ranch in the middle of Minnesota? Hundreds of miles from the nearest town?" Brittany shook her head. "Summer stock? Is that some kind of Earth entertainment?" She pointed at a bare wall and snapped her fingers. An image of one of the mechs her teams had disabled at the Black Hat base appeared there. "Does this summer stock involve war machines like this?"
"I don't know what that is," Cassandra said. "I've never seen anything like that."
"How did you get to this meeting in this unusual location?" Brittany asked.
"We flew in the day before," Cassandra said, shivering. "Could you turn up the heat? Please?"
"What of these men, who are they?" Brittany asked, ignoring her request. "Are they also investors?" Pictures of the others appeared on the wall.
"That's Will Schuester," she said, pointing with a shaking finger. "He was planning to invest in the theater. That one there is Jesse St. James. He's the producer, though he seems a little young. The others? I was never given their names."
"What else can you tell us," Brittany asked.
"Nothing," she said, shaking. "This was my chance to get back on stage. Can I have a drink?"
"We do not serve beverages to prisoners," Brittany said.
"I need something," Cassandra said. "Anything. I'll tell you whatever you want."
"I think she's telling the truth," Rachel said. "She has no idea about our Black Hats, unless they are really investing in summer theater."
"Unlikely," Quinn said. "What's your analysis, Artie?"
"She is telling the truth. She believes she was being asked to invest in a summer theater program. She is also suffering from what appears to be an addiction to a strong drug."
"She's an alcoholic," Rachel said. "If this is her," she said, holding up her tablet to show a newspaper clipping.
"Huh," Santana said. "This must be just the warm-up. Brit and Coach are too good to miss that kind of thing."
"Nope, no missing of that little issue," Brittany said, rejoining them right then. "She was desperate to get back on Broadway, so she believed everything they told her. Very sad."
"What do we do with her?" Rachel asked. "Let her go?"
"No," Quinn said.
"Why not?" Rachel asked.
"Just a feeling," Quinn said. "Not sure what we can do with her, other than some kind of detoxification program. But we're keeping her."
"Do our docs even know how to treat that kind of addiction?" Rachel asked. "We don't seem to have any problems with that."
"The genetic anomalies that can lead to addiction to certain chemicals were removed from all of your descendants," Artie said.
"Really? And what about us?" Quinn asked.
"Not all addictions can be cured with gene therapy," Artie said. "Cassandra July's problems are also emotional in nature, not only genetic."
"Didn't think so," Quinn said.
"Where's Coach," Santana asked.
"She wanted a minute alone with Mr. Schue," Brittany said. "She promised not to break him, too much."
"Can we at least watch?" Santana said. "And can we get some popcorn?"
"Sure, but no interfering with her conversation," Brittany said. The screen in the room switched to a view of Coach standing in front of Will Schuester. "And no popcorn, San. This isn't entertainment."
"I'm sure I'll find it entertaining," Santana said, pouting.
"Hush!" Rachel said, waving at her. "I don't want to miss this."
Sue Sylvester closed the door behind her. Pausing for a moment, she took in the sight of a gaunt Will Schuester with only small satisfaction. She wasn't sure how he'd ended up associating with the Black Hats and their minions but she was willing to assume karma had a small part in his downfall. He hadn't noticed her entrance, staring down blankly at his hands.
"Well, well, what have we here?" she said, keeping her face blank at his visible surprise. "This is an unexpected surprise."
"Why am I not surprised?" Will said. "Can we stop this practical joke now?"
"This is no joke," Sue said. "You were in the company of known terrorists, and I suspect you knew exactly what they were up to."
"Building a summer theater camp?" Will said. "Sandy Ryerson was building a summer camp for theater and glee kids and was looking for investors. There were no terrorists."
"If you believe that, you are a bigger fool than I thought," Sue said. "Why would a summer camp ask you to invest? And who would trust a sleazy waste like Ryerson anywhere near children?"
"He taught at McKinley for years," Will said.
"And he was fired for inappropriate behavior. How you did not see that?" Sue said, shaking her head. "I'm actually not surprised."
"Why am I really here? Wherever here is?" Will asked.
"The terrorists you were associating with were taken into custody," Sue said. "It's your turn to be asked questions by your hosts."
"Why are you here, Sue?" he asked, glaring at her. He tugged futilely at his manacles.
"As the local representative of the US government, it is my job to make sure you are treated fairly," Sue said. "So far, they're being sickeningly nice. Disgusting. Makes me want to vomit."
"Where's my lawyer?" Will asked. "I'm entitled to one."
"One of your other so called investors asked the same question. You have not been arrested and are not in custody of the US government."
"Which means?" Will asked, continuing to tug at his manacled wrists.
"You don't get a lawyer, Schue," Santana said from the door. Entering behind Coach, she stopped for a moment and stared him down before taking up a position against the opposite wall.
"Santana? What are you doing here?"
"She's here to judge you," Quinn said, following her into the room. "We all are." Rachel and Brittany joined them. Coach stepped back, leaning against the door that had closed behind them.
"Girls? Boy am I glad to see you!" he said. "Explain to Coach Sylvester that I'm innocent of whatever she thinks I did."
"Can't," Santana said. "You were working with terrorists we've been chasing."
"Doesn't look good, Mr. Schue," Brittany said. "The evidence says you were conspiring against us. And we don't take too kindly to that kind of thing."
"Against you?" Will said, surprised. "You're cheerleaders, some of Sue's Cheerios, and Rachel Berry."
"See, Berry, he didn't forget you," Santana said. "Seems to have forgotten who the rest of us are, but we were just bodies he needed to make his Gleek numbers."
"I'm sure he was upset when we disappeared," Quinn said. "I bet he even put up plaques in the Chorus room with our names on them, right next to Rachel's."
"You want plaques? I can do that after you help me get out of these," Will said, though he clearly wasn't sure why they would have anything to do with his current condition.
"Those people you were hanging out with are not very nice," Brittany said. "Just for that, you should be spanked like a naughty puppy."
"They're the Board of Directors for a summer theater camp," Will said. "They aren't terrorists."
"How do you know that?" Quinn asked him. "Who told you that?"
"Sandy Ryerson," Will said. "He's their theater director."
"They let him near children? I'm not sure I'd want any children of mine attending this summer camp, Mr. Schue," Rachel said. "And why was Jesse St. James at your little investors meeting?"
"I'm not sure," Will said. "I think he's one of the teachers."
"Well, I'm sure he is talented enough for that, as long as he sticks to ten year olds," Rachel said.
"Good one, Berry," Santana said. "You're on a roll today."
"I'm always on a roll," Rachel said, correcting her.
"What do you think ladies," Sue said. "What's your verdict?"
"Why are you asking them?" Will said. "Where's my lawyer?"
"She's asking us because you're our prisoner," Santana said. "Your little friends have been a serious pain in the ass for way too long. If you're innocent? We'll let you go, eventually. I'm sure your current Glee kids won't miss you."
"He quit," Brittany said.
"Again?" Rachel said. "Don't you have a responsibility to your Glee club? How will they do without you?"
"Probably a lot better," Quinn said. "I bet your mother could find them a good adviser, one who isn't trying to relive his glory days."
"Guys, that's just mean," Brittany said, straightening up. "He may be replaceable, but he does try. And it really wasn't his choice this time. One of the Gleek parents complained about his behavior, and lack of subject knowledge, and threatened to tell the state."
"Not surprised," Sue said, glaring at him. "Too much touchy feely teaching methods leads to anarchy."
"Are we done?" Santana asked. "Chief J and Yamato should be done now with that little bomb problem. Some of us have a space station to catch."
"One last question and then we're done here," Brittany said. "Mr. Schue? How did you hear about this summer theater job? You and Mr. Ryerson were never friends."
"Principle Figgins told me about it when I handed in my resignation," he said. "Why?"
"No particular reason. I was just curious," she said. "Someone will be by to take you to a slightly more comfortable room later."
"When can I go home?" he asked.
"Not today," Quinn said. Nodding at the others, she left the room, followed by Coach.
"Tough room," he said, grimacing.
"She's not a fan of your behavior," Rachel said. "She takes responsibility for the people under her very seriously."
"And we are out of here," Santana said, grabbing Brittany's hand and pulling her out of the room.
"I'm curious," Rachel said, stepping closer. "What was your angle? And who dragged July into this mess?"
"My angle?" he said. "And who's July?"
"You really are as clueless as you seemed in high school, aren't you?" Rachel shook her head. "We probably won't talk again," she said. "I suspect Brittany will want to keep you in cold storage for a long, long time."
"Cold storage?" he shivered at her emotionless, cold voice.
"It's like the Matrix," Rachel said. "You'll have a wonderful time." Sighing, she left him alone.
"Way to go, Berry," Santana said over their private comm. "'You'll have a wonderful time.' So, are we all in agreement? He's just a patsy but the safest place for him is in the pods?"
"Until we can think of some use for him," Brittany said. "He can be the star of his own show or something. Whatever Rach wants."
"I'll need to think about it," Rachel said. "Nothing punitive. Something that will hopefully improve his outlook on life. What about the others?"
"St. James is all yours," Brittany said. "He's the arrogant type. He'll want to give you the Evil Overlord speech. The other four and Ryerson? They're already in deep storage. Artie's recorded their memories and my kids will be going over them with a fine toothed comb for clues about the missing Black Hats. St. James gets the same treatment once you finish with him."
"Why didn't Artie just record the others instead of us interrogating them?"
"She did," Brittany said. "That's how I know they were innocent. What I still don't know was why the Black Hats or St. James picked them. If it's in their memories? Then no mystery."
"Oh," Rachel said. "So, I have to talk to Jesse by myself?"
"No," Quinn said. "You don't have to talk with him at all. Lady Black will keep you company if you do. She's not Brittany level intimidating but she's got enough of it to scare the truth out of him, if there is any. And the rest of us have a date in low earth orbit."
"Please be careful," Rachel said, grabbing Quinn's hand. "I don't want to have to find replacements. All of you are irreplaceable," she added, letting go.
"I'll keep them out of trouble," Brittany said.
"You're going too?"
"Need to follow up on some info I pried loose on my little trip to NASA," Brittany said. "And this is where you get off," she said. "Lady B will be back in a couple hours and you can go make St. James miserable then. It'll be fun."
"If you say so," Rachel said, leaning against her office door as she watched the others continue down the corridor.
"Ready?" Lady Black asked her as they stood outside of the holding cell.
"No," Rachel said. "But I will be. Give me a minute, please." She started pacing up and down the corridor, humming to herself a song she hadn't sung in a long time. After running through the song ten times, she stopped in front of the door, shook herself, and announced "Now I'm ready."
"I'll go in first," she told Rachel, slipping in front of her.
"Okay," Rachel said, slightly deflating. "If you think it's best."
Nodding, Lady Black reached forward and placed her palm on the door lock. As soon as it was completely open, she entered the small cell. Jesse St. James was calmly sitting in the holding chair, acting as if he was manacled and unmovable every day.
"Mr. St. James," she said.
"I don't believe we've been introduced, but I'm willing to overlook such social niceties for such beautiful company," he said, smirking.
Rachel snorted loudly, and entered the room, the door shutting behind her.
"Jesse, don't ever change," she said. "The loss of your staggering wit to the world would be a tragedy."
"Rachel Berry, as I live and breath," he said, raising an eyebrow. "What brings you to this little corner of the gulag? At least I'm assuming I'm some sort of political prisoner, though I don't recall participating in a revolution."
"I believe you are currently classified by the United States as a terrorist," Lady Black said.
"So, there's some waterboarding in my future?" he said. "I'm surprised you are participating in this Rachel. Doesn't seem your tree hugging style. So, you've been working with the CIA since you disappeared in high school? I'm surprised they let you break cover to come see me."
"Maybe I should introduce you," Lady Black said. "Just so there are no questions."
"If it'll avoid the inevitable confusion," Rachel said, sighing.
"Mr. St. James, may I introduce you to the Ambassador, and Lady Memory, of the Council of the Dragon Clan, of the Pan-Galactic Federation."
"Ah," he said, grimacing, his expression changing. "So, not the CIA."
"Or any similar agencies of any terrestrial governments," Rachel said. "Though I believe the Lady Black attended several of their interrogation schools."
"Including one run by the CIA," Lady Black said.
"I'm not leaving here alive, am I," he said. "I told them they were strictly amateur hour, but, you know how Evil Overlord types are. They think they're living in a Bond movie. I'd appreciate it if you would tell my parents that I had good intentions."
"Well, luckily for you, we are the good guys, even if your masters don't think so," Rachel said.
"So, no waterboarding? Or thumbscrews?"
"No need," Rachel said. "Our superior alien tech, and it really is superior, allows us to record memories."
"Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be overrunning some poor country with your lesbian fembots?" he asked.
"I won't tell Quinn that you called her troopers fembots," Rachel said. "We might end up scraping you off the walls if I did."
"Scary and Blonde is here also? I bet that means the other two runaways are also," he said. "I can't believe your alien masters put the four of you in change of anything."
"We don't have 'masters'," Rachel told him. "But yes, Santana and Brittany are doing things even you couldn't imagine."
"I can imagine quite a bit," he said, leering.
"Get your mind out of the gutter!" Rachel said, in a disgusted tone.
"You know me so well," he said. "So. Memories recorded. Haven't tossed me out an airlock yet, though your friend here has that look in her eyes, so it'll happen any minute. Why?"
"Memories are recordings," Rachel said. "You might have noticed my title? I have a lot of experience analyzing peoples memories. Only our Shadows have more."
"Shadows?"
"Our secret police," Rachel said. "But as I was saying, digging through your memories? Not a big deal. But what it doesn't tell me is why. Why would you work for people who believe they are superior and will do anything to prevent the people of this planet from joining the rest of the Galaxy?"
"Is that how they sold this to you?" Jesse said. "For the betterment of mankind? It's all lies."
"My reasons, and the reasons of the others don't concern you," Rachel said.
"You know, I heard about your whole Mayan schtick, though I'll admit to being surprised that you're involved, and that is a clever bit of misdirection for aliens planning on global domination, but your Mayans aren't the only ones who came to this planet and set up their own little kingdom."
"Really? Who?" Rachel asked.
"You already have what's up in my head, why ask?"
"I'd like to hear you say it," Rachel said.
"If I must," he said. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of this last chance to hear my trained voice."
"Or we could go find that airlock," Lady Black said. "Unlike Lady M, I have no fondness for your presence. If I believe you are a threat to her, you will be finding out what living in a vacuum is like. Or not, as the case may be."
"Now that's what I was expecting, if I was ever captured," he said. "Threats. But don't worry, the Red Pirates and their descendants are a scruffy inbred lot. Even your friend Brittany could take them."
"The Red Pirates tend to underestimate their foes," Rachel said. "I won't take it too badly. Just be glad you were important enough to not be one of their gun toting minions. Quinn's 'fembots' tend to shoot first when people wave guns at them."
"I suppose," he said. "Now what? Do I have time to make a grand dramatic exit?"
"Sorry, no," Lady Black said, shooting him with a small dart gun she'd been hiding.
Watching him slump over, Rachel pouted. "But what if I wanted to make a dramatic exit?" she said.
"I'm not stopping you, Lady M," Lady Black said, waving towards the cell door.
"It's no fun when they're unconscious," Rachel said, still pouting. "So what are you doing with him. Cold storage?"
"Not my call," Lady Black said. "He's banal, not evil, so I suspect he'll get the same deal as your Mr. Schuester, a few years in the pods."
"You know they don't work completely on non-Clan, right?" Rachel said. "They get the experience but not the long term benefits the rest of us do."
"Do you really want them to?"
"No," Rachel said. "Which might be petty of me. But, no."
"Can I escort you anywhere?" she asked Rachel.
"I think I'll go to my office and catch up on some work while we wait for them to get back from the space station," Rachel said. "You're welcome to join me for dinner."
"My team is here this week and would enjoy your company, if you don't mind a crowd," Lady Black said.
"Sure. That sounds much better than eating by myself," Rachel said.
"I'll come get you in an hour?" she said.
"Yes, please," Rachel said, waving her off and heading in the opposite direction.
"Hey, Artie?"
"Yes, Lady M?"
"Have we found any real evidence of a Red Pirate settlement?" Rachel asked. "Are they really behind the Black Hats?"
"Nothing definitive," Artie said. "But Lady Shadow and her team continue to search for any signs."
"You can't just do a scan, like you did to find all of the Clan descendants?"
"No. What little is known about them indicates they were members of several unrelated Pirate bands," Artie said. "Our primary search point is their unique technology, of which very little survives."
"Okay. Just an idea. I'm sure Brittany and the others have already thought of that," Rachel said, stopping in front of her office. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Lady Memory."