dappered | (no subject)

[ Cortana doesn't sleep. Ever. Which is maybe why she had spent a good majority of her time watching John sleep instead, from her chip on the table next to him. She didn't need sleep, ever, got along just fine without it, and she had never been really sure if that was one of the quirks or the downsides of being inhuman.

At least she doesn't miss much.

Still, this isn't something that should have happened. Whatever it is, whatever it was, Cortana doesn't understand how she could be in one place one second, staring out the hangar of the Forward Unto Dawn, and then -- here, the next. There's no lapse of what she would call consciousness, no falter in her program, she's just there, and then she's not, and for once, Cortana doesn't understand at all.

The sun is stretched high above her, high above the chip from which she's currently standing on, fingers outstretched as if waiting for something. It takes her a moment to look down, to look around, and then finally, to figure out where it is she's at.

Her commands are a little shaky, her various programs slightly off-balance from whatever apparent instantenous journey she had just made, but it doesn't take her long to determine she's not far at all from Valhalla.

Which is. Great. Just what she needed. ]

Chief? . . . John?

[ And, of course, she's met with silence. ]

Scanning and analyzing area --

Retreating back into chip. [ And with that, the holograph disappears back into the data chip, hiding her under the grassy green field. ] Unidentifiable lifeforms. Total, 7, possibly more. Analyzing further. Human. Non-human. Non-human. Human. Human. Human. Human. Closest human lifeform, approximately three-fourths of a mile away.

Damnit.

[ But she had no choice, either way. ]

Releasing distress beacon. Chief, if you can hear me, standby.