Like stretched rubber-band snapping back, Sam twisted around and started back the way they had come almost the instant the police officer had 'dismissed' them.  While he'd tried to ignore it at the time, throughout the entire 'tour,' as it was called, he'd felt a near-overwhelming compulsion to ditch the rest of the group and start hunting for his brother.  He had to be here.  The artificial intelligence, the one Harper had called 'Rommie,' had all but confirmed that this...thing...this ship, 'Stacy'...was holding people hostage in the pods as collateral in order to get everyone else to cooperate.  Meanwhile, Starbuck's question echoed in his head:  were the hostages just random people, complete strangers?  or people they knew, that they loved?    The fact that some of the others knew each other was enough of an answer for him. 

There weren't just random people down in those pods, of that Sam was convinced.  'Stacy' had pulled people that each of them cared about and was dangling them over the proverbial acid pit in order to coerce those that she'd awakened to do her bidding.  Bullshit. 

Sam's brow creased and his eyes narrowed with determination as he trod down the corridor.  His knuckles began to turn white as his grip tightened on the pistol-gripped shot-gun he'd recovered from weapons storage.  He didn't have to run off a list of possible loved ones for 'Stacy' to hold prisoner.  His mother died twenty-four years ago.  Jessica, his fiance, was dead.  Dad was dead.  That left only one person:  Dean.

By the time he'd reached the pod caverns, Sam's chest was heaving as both his breathing and his heart rate accelerated, anticipation building up inside of him.  He looked around at the all too familiar surroundings.  Despite how little time had actually passed, it already seemed like an eternity since he'd left this room...or at least one like it.  He scanned the chamber, looking at the rows upon rows upon rows of pods that hung suspended from the ceiling.  'Rommie' was right, there had to thousands, hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of pods on this ship.  But none of that mattered to Sam right now.  His focus narrowed on one goal and one goal only:  finding his brother.   He didn't care how long it would take, as far as Sam was concerned, he wasn't going to stop looking until he found Dean.

"All right, you bitch," Sam said, glancing up at the ceiling as he spoke to 'Stacy,' "Where'd you put my brother?"

The place was huge. They'd been looking around, trying to figure out exactly what the hell had happened to them. They've been at it for a few hours, and they have, at this moment, exactly nothing.

At least the trip to the lockers was fruitful. Bri had his ESWAT badge pinned to his suit (Just for the hell of it, not to mention he doesn't want to lose it), and of course, a rather large pistol holstered at his side.

Right now, they've managed to wander into the Obs Deck. It was...definitely something.

Bri let out a low whistle.

"Damn," he said to Pat (they'd managed to lose the weird pale guy earlier), "You'd think they'd get tired of the whole 'Dark and Creepy' motif going on here."

The Doctor, true to form and quite negating his earlier plans to keep a low profile, had decided to explore the city on his own. Also true to form, he was gawking like a natural born tourist fresh off the farm.

Well, if guys fresh off the farm kept up running commentary under their breaths about every single culture they recognized. And if they recognized quite a few, had an apparent habit of internal monologue, and occasionally ran over to point a buzzing little blue stick at seemingly random objects.

He was completely fascinated.

He was also bound and determined to get to the bottom of all this mess and get his TARDIS back. Now.

Ooh, look at that!