Author's Note: I owe you all a hundred apologies for the time this took. In the past month I have been through a breakup, finals, some weird sort of writer's block that made me write and rewrite this chapter a handful of times, and then Christmas. But! We are finally here! And Separatist Supporter continues being the best beta reader that anyone could ask for. Ladywolvesbayne, kpmh2001, you guys seriously are my life blood and I love every review you leave. Also thank you for noticing my little wordplay with the task force. I am actually fluent in Portuguese (I lived there for two years) and I couldn't help playing around a tiny bit with it. Anyway! No more rambling from me. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

0610 HOURS, APRIL 24, 2559, (MILITARY CALENDAR) /

VALLEJO CITY, PLANET BALLAST, EPSILON ERIDANI SYSTEM

Linda-058 breathed in slowly, counting down from ten.

She sat alone, back to the wall and knees tucked as close to her chest as her GEN2 MJOLNIR allowed, in a corner of the commandeered bunker's main room. It had been retrofitted from a luxurious banquet hall into a electronic nightmare; teams of scientists spent day and night arguing about the effectiveness of certain designs, running through the results of various functionality tests, and otherwise making noise.

Linda breathed out, counting up from zero.

She had spent the last seven hours being ushered from one corner of the bunker to another. John had been pulled away by security to hover near Doctor Graham's office, presumably to receive information as it became available. Linda had been reduced to an awkward observer trying her best not to break any of the fragile-looking equipment around her.

Alex had given her the run-down of the situation hours before. They had developed a device that should keep small craft invisible to the Created's technology. It was the brain-child of several different scientists, though Graham was was sure to take all of the credit. He had taken on the responsibility of personally testing all aspects of the equipment – alone – and reporting to the team what he felt was necessary for their continued research.

Linda didn't like it. At best, Graham was paranoid and felt he was the only one that could be trusted with the information. At less-than-stellar, he was hiding something. At worst . . . Linda hadn't decided what the worst-case scenario might look like.

Of course, speculation of that type was far above her paygrade. As Graham liked to frequently remind his team, he was in charge and all major decisions were to be made by him. Linda didn't much care about his ego trip, but she didn't trust him - and she didn't like putting her life in the hands of a paranoid narcissist.

She breathed in, starting her count once again.

Alex had told Linda roughly an hour ago that a small group had been encountered traveling outside the city and was being led into the bunker. There was no more information, but Alex had been confident it was the rest of Blue Team. After all, few could have made it out of the major cities as they were constantly being patrolled by Prometheans, and those that did wouldn't circle back to enter Vallejo. No information had come in on how many were in this group, and Linda wondered if Fred and Kelly had been successful in retrieving their objective.

The sniper breathed out and continued her valiant efforts to focus on breathing. She noticed the sounds of a somewhat familiar set of footsteps making their way in her direction and began wondering where Alex would apologetically muster her off to now. It wasn't much of a stretch in identifying who was approaching her - none of the other on-site personnel felt confident in approaching her, and the blonde woman was the only one that had taken an interest in her presence anyway. Linda rose smoothly to her feet as the scientist neared.

"Linda," the woman began awkwardly, looking at her with a hint of trepidation despite her easy-going nature, "That group I told you about earlier is on its in. Doctor Graham wants security personnel in the hangar to receive them, and I've just been informed he wants you there too."

Linda rolled her eyes. Leave it to a self-important egghead to try to give himself command over Spartans. Still, now wasn't the time to remind him of the chain of command. Besides, she wanted to be their if it was indeed her team arriving. "Lead the way," she said.

The scientist turned on her heel and walked out of the assembly area toward the staircase to the hangar. The bunker had been cleverly designed -the only outside access was the elevator that led directly to the hangar. From that room there were several different staircases – one in each corner of the hangar – that led to different sections of the bunker. One led directly to the living areas, lavish affairs hastily converted to allow for more occupants than they had originally been designed for. Another staircase led to storage, a third to a room filled with antiquated weaponry, and the fourth descended to the room they were in. Each staircase was narrow, built in a way that made it very defensible should the need arise.

Linda and Alex climbed the stairs in silence. When they entered the hangar Linda saw John standing to one side, MA5D in hand. Beside John, the room was filled with several members of the amassed "army" that had been serving as security for the bunker. Using anything from supply crates to card tables as cover, they formed a defensive half-circle outside the elevator. Though John's weapon was relaxed and far from firing position, he looked exponentially more prepared for combat than the half-dozen security guards aiming their rifles at the elevator doors.

As she moved to John's side Linda appreciated the prudence in considering every entrance a possible threat. At the same time, she almost let out a coughed laugh at the composure of the defenders. Half of them appeared more liable to fall asleep than defend their bunker – no doubt having gone through this same exercise dozens of times and having grown complacent. The other half appeared almost panicked, ready to fire on whatever came out of the elevator whether it was an enemy contact or not.

"People here are about at the end of their ropes," she commented to her squad leader. "Bang a couple of pots and pans around long enough and they might just start shooting each other."

Without glancing at her John answered, "Can you blame them? They've been on high alert for days, and nothing has come from it. At this point they might not even know they're in danger."

"Some of these 'soldiers' have never fired a weapon at a moving target," Alex said. Both Spartans turned, surprised to see the scientist standing casually next to them with her arms crossed over her chest. Without noting their surprise, she continued, "We have the full spectrum here; cops, militia, private contractors . . . some of them have never had so much as a knife pointed in their direction and some made war for profit on other worlds."

Linda shrugged, conceding that the woman knew more about her security detail than either of the Spartans. "Can't imagine there's a lot of unit cohesion coming from such different backgrounds."

Alex opened her mouth to reply but fell silent as the elevator doors began to creak open at a speed that seemed to only add onto the tension already filling the room.

As the two heavy doors split down the middle, Linda let out a breath of relief as she recognized Kelly's Hermes armor. The woman stood exactly in front of the partition of the door, blocking the view to whatever was behind her. Kelly regarded the six people with rifles trained on her and casually stepped in Linda and John's direction. As she left the elevator car, Kelly was followed first by Fred and then by a man in what appeared to be tactical police gear.

"Fred?" breathed the scientist at Linda's side in shock and disbelief.

In unison John and Linda turned and looked at Alex.

"Did she just say . . ." John began, activating TEAMCOM so that no one outside a suit of MJOLNIR armor could hear them.

"I think she did," Linda answered his unarticulated question.

A moment of shocked silence passed over the pair of Spartans as they each contemplated possible explanations of the woman's outburst. That surprise was compounded when, without a word, the scientist left their side at a run. Neither soldier did any more than confusedly track her movement as she barreled toward their teammate. They continued to observe her until she ran past both Fred and Kelly and collided with the man behind them in a tight embrace.

"That makes a little more sense," John offered awkwardly. He may be fluent in hundreds of ways to kill dozens of different creatures, but the nuances of human interaction were far beyond his wheelhouse.

"Must've just been a coincidence," Linda replied. She was in a similar state to her team leader, though perhaps she was even less versed in social concepts than him.

"I don't think it's that simple," Kelly cut into their conversation, "there's . . . something about this other Fred."

John's gaze snapped from the scientist, still wrapped tight in the man's arms, to Kelly as she stopped in front of them. "How do you mean?" he asked.

Kelly glanced behind herself and Fred at the hugging pair, "Nothing confirmed. But take a look at him. You'll see what I mean."

Linda momentarily regarded her teammate with a quizzical look, then turned to look at the man. His face was partially obscured by the back of Alex's head as the scientist had her arms cinched around his shoulders. When the scientist moved and Linda could see the man's face, however, she was slightly taken aback. Something about him looked shockingly familiar, and she began to wonder if they had met before under some circumstance. She continued staring at him as she tried to remember his face. When the man leaned back and smiled at Alex, the grin revealing a dimple on his left cheek and crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that she was already very familiar with, she suddenly understood what Kelly meant.

"Uh, Fred," Linda said, "do you have a kid none of us know about?"

"Very funny," came the terse reply, "you're a regular comedian."

"I think it's a fair question," John chimed in with the ghost of a smile coming across in his voice. "But seriously, who is he?"

"He's the man who sent out the transmission that we picked up," Kelly answered. "As for why he looks so much like our Fred, and why they share a name, Fred has avoided the topic like an armed SHIVA."

Fred shook his head when he arrived at Kelly's side. "I'm starting to think I'd rather be outside with the Prometheans."

Kelly leaned forward, seemingly ready to continue the barrage on their teammate, before the Spartans noticed the man in question approaching their group alongside Alex.

"I hope we're not interrupting something," Alex said, smiling. "I told Fred he had to make introductions."

With an embarrassed half-grin the young man waved vaguely at Fred and Kelly. "I told her this wasn't a good idea. I still don't even know the big guy's name. Unless it really is Sierra," he finished with a conspiratorial smile in Fred's direction. He paused, clearly hoping that Fred would take the initiative and introduce himself.

He didn't.

After a moment of horrendously awkward silence, Linda spoke up. "Well," she began, shooting a slightly confused glance at her silent teammate, "my name is Linda. I'm part of Blue Team."

John followed suit and introduced himself as well. "John-117. We actually met Alex here earlier, she's the one that brought us into this bunker in the first place."

"You were in good hands then," the young man said with a wink at Alex. "I've already met half of you, but it's a pleasure to meet the others." He leaned forward and extended his hand to shake it. "My name is Fred Ellsworth."

Linda coughed involuntarily. She noticed that John, who had held out his own hand, paused midway and halted awkwardly before meeting the other man.

It was just a coincidence, Linda told herself. It had to be. There had to have been a million families named Ellsworth out there.

The awkwardness continued to mount among the group.

For the first time, Linda was happy to see Doctor Graham appear behind her squad leader flanked on either side by black-clad mercenaries with assault rifles. The man always chose as his personal entourage the men that had come with the bunker - presumably trusting their loyalty to money over the common colonist's loyalty to the UNSC. The man on his left Linda didn't know, but on his right stood the leader of the mercenary group, Cybill Eason. She was an attractive woman by most physical standards, with high cheek bones, thick curly black hair, and an athlete's physique. She was socially graceful as well, prepared to greet anyone with an almost-convincing smile and a friendly handshake. But behind her deep brown eyes Linda could see the cunning of a fox - as predatory as she was intelligent. She was always near him.

As with most things pertaining to Doctor Graham and his decisions, Linda didn't like it.

"Spartan 117," Graham said. "I see that the rest of your wayward flock has arrived. Does this mean that we may begin preparations for launch?"

John stepped forward to face the man directly. "No sir. As I explained, the Dusk couldn't risk staying on location. She will return to orbit to pick us up," he paused as the neural uplink in his helmet retrieved the countdown timer for their window, "in 51 hours."

Graham's face reddened slightly as he glared the up at the Spartan. "The longer we wait the more likely we are to be discovered. Send a transmission to them and bring them back immediately."

"Not possible," John answered with a shake of his head. "Any transmission would be immediately detected by Promethean forces. Beyond that, I don't even know where the Dusk is. We're just going to have to wait it out." He took a step toward the scientist and said the last sentence with stronger conviction.

The doctor glared at the Spartan but took a step back and swung around in the direction of his office.

"What's eating at that guy?" the younger Fred asked loudly as the trio sullenly marched away.

"I'll tell you about him later," Alex answered him. "But I imagine that you're all exhausted. Even you two," she said, pointing at Linda and John. "None of you have slept in a while. I'll show you where we've set up bunks and . . ." she paused, considering the Spartans. "I think you four might have to sleep on the floor. But we'll find you a place."

With that she turned and walked away, leading the procession to the staircase in one of the hangar's corners. Linda had to agree – even a Spartan needed rest to function nominally, and natural sleep patterns were infinitely better than UNSC-issued combat stimulants. Regarding the young man as he stepped past them, Linda shook her head.

She definitely needed some sleep.