And then, suddenly, time seemed to telescope, to collapse on itself. He wasn’t in Cheyenne. The span of time that had taken him from Seattle to here might never have existed. He was back in the alleys of Seattle, with a pack of trolls on his tail, trolls who wanted to kill him. Sure, part of his brain knew they were military sec-guards. But, by the spirits and totems, they might as well have been the Disassemblers dogging him near the docks. For some reason, the sense of familiarity energized his body, gave him the juice to run even harder.