Tikki turns and runs. The guards shout and stagger to their feet as she nears them, but do nothing to impede her. She grabs one of their guns from the floor and continues ahead. Now she’s got two guns and that gives her odds to play with the next time some two-leg tries to get in her way. She needs odds like that because she’s tired—her reserves are wearing thin. She needs sleep, real sleep, and enough meat to gorge herself. She’s taken too many hits, too many explosions, in too little a time. She can’t keep going like she’s been going.