John had gone for a little walk and come upon the group talking. Good a time as any for an update, I suppose. But Sam's train of thought interrupted his own-- here, at least, he could give some useful information.

"There's been nothing on this scale before," he said, sticking his hands in his lab coat pockets. "I've been here eleven months, and from what Sherlock's told me, when they first got here it was like the place was just coming back to life-- they had to work to get the power on, a lot of places were locked down, that kind of thing. The replicators... they've always been the way they are. But there's never been anything accidental that could've killed people."

He had to believe that, at least-- the things they'd endured, all they'd experienced-- it had to be for a reason. It had to mean something... even if he still had no idea what that something was.