"Tell me what that was all about while you're running," Cortana says with a huff. "Armor lock only lasts as long as it takes to reboot."

The tactical window returns with her, the motion tracker's absence of any hostiles only so comforting in this jumpscare nightmare they've been dumped into. For the moment, at least, Cortana's too exasperated for her own demons to be chasing them, and the way is refreshingly free of tentacles or twisted, almost fungal creatures that were once people. Small mercies.