Tron had very little need to "sleep", as it were, and spent very little time in his small assigned quarters for the few reboot cycles he required. He'd fallen into the habit of unofficially patrolling the ship's decks after his shifts were over in Communications, feeling far more at ease in a security function than the one designated to him here. Certainly, there were security personnel on the ship, but Tron could not deny his programming as a monitor, not even here in this new world.

In this downtime, however, something new was setting his circuits on edge. Some familiar buzz in his code, a sensation that should not exist. Tron extended his patrol further than usual, moving toward the aft deck, searching for whatever it was that had pinged his senses.

There. A hint of orange-red, almost hidden in the darkness, but stark against the blackness of space outside. Movement, quick and sure. This was no reflection of an instrument panel, and Tron knew that glow, that color. His discs were in his hand before he'd even thought of the command, though he did not yet activate them.

"Identify yourself, program," he called out, stepping into the observation deck's open space.