I come to street level, blink a little in the sunshine, which bakes on my bald head. Semperton's building is right across from the docks, and has no sidewalk. Narrow. I wonder where they had off-loaded me after I got grabbed. Not here. This stairwell is just inches from the curb. Probably built before they widened the avenue. Likely not used much since--if at all.

A blue sedan fans me as it sails past. I hike it for the dockside of the street by reflex. There's a bus stop there, something to aim for. Some waldos are loading a truck in the facing shipyard. A black and white streak, plowing around the grounds, catches my attention. Blackie? I curse under my breath. What's that mutt doing here?

Some ugly bastard piles out of a gate shed and takes out after Blackie. Damn it, just when I need to keep my head down, too. I just keep going anyway. Stupid. That's why I get scarred up so much.

"Hey! Leave off! I got the dog."

Guy whips around, yells something and takes off after me now. A loading door slides part open on the warehouse behind him, two more goons appear, and I am in the dill. This angers me. Over a mutt? I fish out my stunner and flick it on. Somebody makes a grab for my arm. The stunner comes up, he goes down. The two others from the bay door pile on. Tear my coat. Manage to fire off the stunner once more, but now I'm out of charges for it, leaving one more thug. My training is better than his, so this doesn't last long. A couple knuckle sandwiches and it's over. Blackie whines something. After my heart stops pounding at my ears, it comes clear.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Mic inside big house! Mic inside big house! Other Dog-toy men take Mic inside..."

Somehow, this doesn't surprise me. I run straight to the warehouse door, and race inside, dog at my heels. Blackie growls and leaps past me, all four feet in the air. Man, that animal has big teeth. My eyes are still readjusting, but there is movement in the direction of Blackie's jump. Nasty snarls rip out of Blackie like a saw-blade on a snag, and a commotion starts. I head for that. Two more, a goon and what looks a lot like that guy from the hospital, Mitchel Davis.

Someone is lying on the floor. Davis takes off like a deer. The goon's busy with the dog, I end that, turn my attention to the floor. Shit, it is Micain. There's some wire ending in thin steel needles stuck in a waxy plug just above his neck, leading to a plastic box on the floor. Next to it, a headset, of a sort. I pull the stakes out, and try to lift Micain. He's as heavy as a dead cow. I really want to get after Davis, but for some reason I can't seem to just leave the dumb A.I. on the floor.