Renewed gunfire from outside called Turtle away from me. He sprinted to the stairway where Troog was engaged in a dodge-and-shoot firefight with a squad of Yaks at the bottom. One of our boys was already down with a shoulder wound, and Troog looked both grim and frightened. Turtle assessed the situation, including the fact that our fighters had pistols, at best. He took off his Uzi and gave it to Troog, along with the ammo belt. "‘Here, use this. I’m going to get something to slow those guys down." I watched it all from a vantage point somewhere above them. I could also see my own body, still in Goob’s office, moving like a zombie in slow-motion, but all I could do was watch things unfold. I had no control.