Helen threw Scotty to the ground. “Watch him,” she said. The Dober Bull growled, his teeth bared, black eyes on the little man. Sprite still lay on her side, knife protruding upward toward the sky.

“Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse,” Helen said. “You’re gonna be fine. I’ll uplink a medivac, and”

“There’s no time,” Sprite interrupted.

“You’re fine. The bleeding is minimal, you’re breathing is strong.”

“No,” Sprite said and tried to toss the watch. Instead, it just fell to the rocky blacktop. Helen picked it up. The count had dropped to 22.

“There’s no time,” Sprite repeated.