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oneandtogetherIn nearly seven months aboard the Proserpina, Spock thought that he had experienced enough to synthesize a hypothesis as to the purpose of their presence on board, and the extent to which they would be tested and studied during their time there.
Now, the station overrun with attackers, hostile ships attempting to destroy them, the Proserpina itself turning against them, without any place that could reliably be called safe in which to hide, Spock was forced to admit that he had been extremely, uncategorically incorrect-- both in thinking he understood the station, and in the assumption that its intent toward them was benign.
The science labs had offered him a set of testing instruments on the morning of the sphere's arrival-- now, he turned to it for anything that might serve as a weapon. The hounds were prowling everywhere, more numerous than ever, and while they had proven that killing Moriarty would not keep him away, that did not keep Spock from his conviction that he would dispatch the man by whatever means necessary if he presented himself again.
As he exited the labs, laden with Sherlock's compressed air grenades, he tripped over the body of John Watson-- the fourth he had encountered since Saturday, this one appearing to have been strangled-- and stumbled, catching himself up against the wall. The station shuddered with the low percussion of distant explosions, and Spock forced himself to move faster. Jim and some others were holed up in Lady Grantham's party room-- he had promised to return to them, and did not plan to go back on his word.
[last gathering for the plot! tag in, tag each other anywhere on the station as all the manifestations are at their worst.]
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