Fade in to Doc, Wash and the Meta standing over the modified Epsilon unit, which is now olive green

Washington: Great, he's done.

Doc: Why is it sparking like that?

Washington: This thing's been through a lot, it's pretty badly damaged. But now that it's a capture unit we just need to get it near Epsilon, and we can pull him in.

Doc: What if it breaks?

Washington: Don't worry, it'll hold until we get him. After that, it doesn't matter. It can short out for all I care.

Doc: Then what's the point of all this?

Washington: I just have to deliver Epsilon to the Chairman. I don't have to guarantee what condition, I deliver him in. He's just evidence anyway. Meta, grab him. Doc, get ready to move.

Doc: Move, move where? We don't know where they are.

Washington: We know they're not here. So gather your gear, and get ready to move out.

Doc: Well can we track them?

Washington: Track them?

Doc: You know, pick up a trail, like footprints.

Washington: Footprints. In the desert.

Doc: Kh, don't special agents have the ability to track their targets through any kind of terrain? Follow broken tree branches-

Washington: Tree branches. In the desert.

Doc: Okay these are bad examples. Maybe heat signatures.

Washington: In the desert.

Doc: Like exhaust trails? I dunno.

Washington: Tell you what. Why don't you just stick to not understanding medicine? Don't feel the need to expand your sphere of ignorance.

Doc: Fine, jeez, I'm just trying to help.

Doc wanders off

Meta: *something*

Washington: Him? Ah, he's always whining about something. (under his breath) Hey Meta, is there any way we could track the Reds by trying to pick up a trail, like a uh, heat signature- or something?

Meta: *something*

Washington: Yes. I know we're in the desert.

Cut to the facility with Church and Tex

Church: So you back up to a hundred percent yet?

Tex: Yeah. And whatever I didn't learn from Caboose I've been able to pick up from the rest of the guys. Didn't take long.

Church: Yeah we really don't seem to do much.

Tex: Maybe you should get a hobby. Like knitting.

Church: We'll look into it.

Tex: Hey, how did you know how to bring me back?

Church: Honestly I didn't have much choice. I couldn't get you outta my head so I kind of, had to, get you, outta my head.

Tex: Wow, how emo. Maybe you can blog about it.

Church: Hey, you asked.

Tex: When I was beatin' the hell out of the Reds, the alarm said it was 'Level Alpha.' Do you know why?

Church: You know I didn't think about that, no.

Tex: Then I want you to have Sheila give me access to the files here.

Church: Why?

Tex: Because I'm gonna figure out exactly what they did to me here. I need to know who I am.

Church: I know who you are. You're my girlfriend.

Tex: Whell, that's probably the most underwhelming description of all time.

Church: Hey. Lots of ladies would be happy to be my girlfriend.

Tex: What other women do you even know?

Church: Um, eyeuh, well there's uh, duhh, that's a-uh, Grif had a sister, she seemed to like me.

Tex: I wouldn't be too proud of that. She was pretty easy.

Tucker: How do you know she was easy, Tex? You know what, never mind, don't tell me. It's better in my head.

Church: Where did you even come from?

Tucker: I'm always close by.

Tex: Hey, can I kill him?

Church: You can hurt him. Kill him later.

Tex: Hm. That actually sounds more fun.

Tucker: Man, I thought the old Church was whipped but, you're really taking it to a whole new level.

Tucker wanders off again

Tex: Why do you even put up with him?

Church: It's not so bad, I mean I admit sometimes it gets pretty hard and I, really don't know how to handle it.

Tucker: Aaand, now I'm back.

Cut to the Reds watching Church and Tex through a fence.

Church: Come on, let's get in there.

"Simmons, this is our chance." Sarge starts. "Get in the computer and start entering the Blues back in the database."

"Yes Sir." Simmons says. "Come on Grif, I need your help."

"My help?" Grif asks.

"Grif's, help?" Ash asks.

"With a computer? Simmons, you must have me confused with someone who, can help, you, with the computer."

Sarge: Kinda lost your train of thought on that one.

Grif: Yeah, a little bit.

Simmons: Following the Blues is one thing. If I'm entering all these names and records, I need someone to hold up the papers for me.

Grif: Uh, sorry dude, paper holder's not in my job description.

Simmons: No, but I'm gonna be working in the personnel files. So I can add it to your job description. In fact, I can make your job whatever I want. How does "Chief Executive Butt Taster" sound?

Ash starts to laugh.

Grif: You can't do that.

Simmons: I can't? I thought you didn't understand how computers work. In fact while I'm in there, why don't I just make you a woman. It's just a checkbox, and we could always use a little more diversity in our team. I know Tucker will be happy.

Simmons walks up to the control room.

Grif: Phph, make me a woman. Yeah right. Like changing a form would actually turn me into a woman. I mean that's just... How stupid does he think I... I- I- I better go help him.

Sarge: Good call, numbnuts.

Cut to Doc approaching Wash and the Meta from behind

Meta: *something*

Washington: That's great. You picked up a trail? Really?

Doc: Hi guys, what's up?

Washington: Oh, uh, Meta here was able to pick up a faint trail of the Reds based on gas spectrometry and uh uhum... resident heat signatures.

Doc: What I, thought you said you couldn't do that.

Washington: I didn't say we couldn't do that, I said you are an idiot. Those are two different discussions.

Doc: I want credit for the idea.

Washington: Doc, just let us do our job. You do your job. Anything, medical to report?

Doc: No, the dead aliens are still dead. Also still aliens, but that's, less significant.

Washington: Wonderful.

Doc: Yeah, one other thing, you know that Stockholm Syndrome where prisoners start to like and identify with their captors after being held hostage for long enough?

Washington: What about it?

Doc: No one has that yet.

Washington: The feeling is mutual.

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07-16-2022