In the control room, Simmons and Grif are meddling with F.I.L.S.S..

F.I.L.S.S.: That is not an approved operation-hey! Watch it buddy!

Simmons: Can you show me the data logs?

F.I.L.S.S.: Affirmative.

Sarge and Kan walk in. 

Sarge: Simmons, any progress in restoring the Blues?

Simmons: It's a lot of data entry, Sir. I was thinking I could hack the mainframe and reroute the data stream to-

F.I.L.S.S.: Or, we could just restore from an archive database.

Simmons: What?

F.I.L.S.S.: This is an off-site fallback facility. It is designed to have archives in case of data loss. Blue Team rosters would certainly be a part of that.

Simmons: Really?

F.I.L.S.S.: Yes. In fact, I am glad you pointed out the database anomaly. I had noticed it before, but did not have time to investigate. Strange.

Simmons: Oh. Okay, yeah, restore that then.

F.I.L.S.S.: Done.

Simmons: Great.

F.I.L.S.S.: You seem disappointed. Did I do it too quickly, and make you look bad?

Simmons: No...

F.I.L.S.S.: I could always, pretend that you hacked me, if it would make you look better to your friends.

Simmons: Stop patronizing me.

F.I.L.S.S.: Affirmative. Patronizing subroutines are now offline.

Simmons: You're still patronizing me aren't you.

F.I.L.S.S.: Kind of.

Grif: Hmm.

Kan: Is something the matter, Grif? 

Grif: This is weird, if I'm reading this right there's a bunch of other red and blue bases.

Sarge: Of course there are Grif! The war is huge. The fate of the galaxy rests in the balance.

Kan: You're still holding onto this ridiculous battle as if it'll result in something worth while once it's come to an end...

Sarge: And what? The war between us humans and you aliens wasn't ridiculous? 

Grif: Or, not.

Sarge: What's that mean?

Grif: Here, check this out, I'm looking at the list of missions for all the different bases, and some of them look... familiar.

Simmons: Let me see. Huh, apparently they set up bases in various locations and then send a Freelancer in for... training purposes.

Sarge: Training?

Grif: Practice.

Sarge: Practice?

Simmons: Yeah, the Reds and Blues are just there to test the skills of the Freelancers.

Sarge: You mean the Blues.

Simmons: No I mean both of them, ah- both of us. It says here that "simulation bases will present scenarios that may occur for Freelancer agents in a galactic battle field."

Kan: Did not Agent Washington and Slade point this out to you all when he was with us in hunting the Meta? 

Sarge: Simuwatshin?

Grif: He means we're like lab rats.

Sarge: What- what- that's nonsense! We've been through so much! We had that, whole battle with the Blues for the, somethinerother and, then we set off that bomb thingy, and we got blasted through time, and we met an alien and that guy got pregnant.

Simmons: According to this that is, Scenario 3.

Sarge: Three?!

Grif: Why us though?

Simmons: Let me see, let me see, thuh... "bases are outfitted with matching weapons and vehicles to ensure long conflict and are staffed by... low level operatives?"

Grif: Hey, who's that report calling low level? Stupid report. Punch it.

Simmons: "The candidates for Red and Blue squads will be culled from enlisted army ranks based on low test scores and poor field skills so as to not be missed on our-"

Grif: That actually does sound like me. What about you, I thought you were smart? Did you have low test scores too?

Simmons: Hey those time limits aren't fair, it should be important that I know the information, not how fast I know it.

Grif: Geeze, guess I hit a nerve.

Simmons: And don't even get me started on the number 2 pencils.

Grif: Well Sarge, I always said Command was full of- Sarge?

Simmons, Grif, and Kan then find Caboose in the storeroom. 

Caboose: Ah that's good. Eh, maybe a little to the left.

Grif: What is all this?

Caboose: Oh, this is new Red Base. Welcome.

Simmons: When did you build this?

Caboose: Oh I didn't build this. Your Sergeant did.

Grif: What? He built this? When?

Caboose: Oh, just now.

Grif: He walked out of the room like ten seconds ago!

Kan: So many impossibilities and practicalities have been defied and yet you're still surprised by it, anytime you see it happen again and again? 

Caboose: Oh, well, he got sad about something so he's making a Red Base here. And I am helping. I am great at building forts. See, I already built a Blue Base.

The Reds and Kan look to see a couch with a couple blankets and a flag. 

Caboose: Ours has blankets.

Sarge: Go away!

Simmons: Sarge, what is all this?

Sarge: Simmons, didn't you hear? We're cannon fodder. Practice! Well if I'm the leader of junk, I may as well have a base made out of junk! Pretty appropriate, right?

Grif: Looks like shit.

Sarge: That was rhetorical, dirtbag.

Simmons: Well Sir, I think this is an excellent strategy. The Blues'll never-

Sarge: Blues? Simmons, don't you get it yet? Grif was right all along.

Grif: Thank you, Sir.

Sarge: Don't call me that any more.

Simmons: Sarge, this place is one lie after another. We don't know if-

Sarge: Oh, we know. I know. You wanna fool yourself go ahead.

Simmons: You're just upset, Sir.

Sarge: Don't, call me that.

Simmons: What? Call you what?

Sarge: Sir. From now on, you call me by my name: Sarge. Or S-Dog. I'm not in charge any more. I quit.

Simmons: ...You what?

Grif: Uh-oh. I get the feeling somebody else's world just got rocked.

Caboose: Yeh, I'll start working on another fort.

Kan: When did any one of us ever call him "S-Dog"? 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Tex, Epsilon, and Slade are running through snow until Epsilon halts. 

Epsilon: Tex, stop. Where are we going?

Tex: There's only one person left who knows what happened to me. The Director.

Epsilon: The Director, nobody even knows who he is.

Tex: I can think of two people who might know: Wash and the Meta.

Epsilon: Wash and Meta, are you kidding me? Tex, forget all this. What if they don't even know?

Slade: Then we get to kill Wash and the Meta. Believe me, Church, I want to kill this son of a bitch with every fiber of my being, but if I can't find him then I'll just wreck and destroy everything damned experiment or operation of his he's ever built or plans to build. 

Epsilon: Tex I think the Director built all this for you.

Tex: Ugh, even more reason to burn it all to the ground.

Epsilon: Facing Wash and Meta, is suicide, even if we knew where they were. We don't. How the hell are you gonna find them?

Tex: They'll find us.

Epsilon: Oh so what, we just hole up? And wait for them to come without ever even knowing when that's gonna be?

Tex: (pulls out her pistol) No, they'll come now.

Epsilon: How? Are you just gonna call them on the phone?

Tex: Somethin' like that.

Tex then shoots Epsilon in the leg, making him fall to the ground. 

Epsilon: Tex?

Tex: I needed you to come. Sheila said the recovery beacon wouldn't activate, until we left the storage facility.

Epsilon: Tex?

Tex: I didn't ask to be paired with you. I didn't wanna come back. But I'm here now, so I'm gonna put an end to this. 

Epsilon: Tex, I would have helped you guys. 

Tex: You can't even help yourself. That's why you made me, Church. You made me to take on all the things you can't handle. Just like you always have. Well guess what, I'm gonna handle it. Wash and Meta will be coming now. I have some things to get ready.

Epsilon: Tex... why are you doing this?

Tex: Funny you should ask. That's exactly what I plan to find out.

As Tex leaves, Slade looks down at Epsilon. 

Slade: Sorry, mate. This is bigger than you. Bigger than her. I need to know who I am. 

Epsilon: Slade, you can't do this....

Slade: .....I'll do my best to make sure nothing happens to her. 

Slade then walks off, leaving Epsilon clutching his leg. 

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

In the desert, Wash starts hearing his recovery beacon. 

Washington: What is that? Where is that coming from? It can't be.

The Meta growls responsively. 

Washington: I'm getting it too. I should have known he might end up there.

Doc: What is it?

Washington: It's a recovery beacon. It's him; it's Epsilon. Doc, go get a vehicle. Meta, you grab the memory unit.

The Meta and Doc split up. 

Doc: But where are we going?

Washington: We're going to the only place that's left.