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NCIS meets KFB - 2012-0103.1314 [Belisarius Productions' NCIS characters used in noncanon situation without copyright holder permission]

If you know the show and characters, check my portayal accuracy. If not, NCIS team members aren't mine; other characters and situations are my pervy creations. Everything's someone's intellectual property, so read and enjoy, don't copy or redistribute. More Biological Synthetics stories on Kevin Foxboy's SoFurry profile.

* * *

One of the strangest cases the Naval Criminal Investigative Service dealt with was the murder of Chief Petty Officer Danielle Roberts. The group was formed as a military detective force, to deal with anything having to do with United States Navy personnel, whether on ships, on US soil, or foreign bases.

Unfortunately, their expertise was needed, because Americans weren't always loved and even were killed by other Americans. It usually boiled down to lust or greed. Seven deadly sins were alive and well two thousand years after a nice Jewish boy was tied to a tree for saying, "Let's all be *nice* to each other!"

The NCIS was overseen by the US Secretary of the Navy. The military loved acronyms, and called the official SecNav. The military excepted itself from civil rights laws so it was always a man.

One of the groups of investigators was headed by Leroy Jethro Gibbs. His team referred to him as Boss to his face, Gibbs among themselves and to others. The Director of NCIS called him Gibbs too. I don't think any of his four wives (one at a time) called him Leroy.

Gibbs had been in the Marine Corps and still wore his graying hair cut short. He said "There's no such thing as an ex-Marine" which probably meant that the discipline and loyalty stayed with a man even when he retired. He still acted like one of "the few, the proud, the Marines."

The senior investigator under Gibbs was Anthony DiNozzo Jr and he had a roving eye for women. He liked women so much he never stayed with just one at a time, so he never married. His father had of course, before Junior was born, all nice and legal in the USA.

He'd been a cop in Baltimore Maryland until a murder case led to the Navy and he'd been impressed by Gibbs and his team. Gibbs had been less impressed with Tony, because his womanizing got in the way of his investigating.

Gibbs saw Tony throw away opportunities for advancement, and knew the younger man could do better. He expected a lot from his team, there was no settling for second best. "Be all that you can be" wasn't just for the Army.

Gibbs had a rather unsettling way of showing Tony when he thought Tony'd messed up. A slap on the back of his head was technically an assault on a federal officer, but Gibbs was one too, and Tony put up with it.

One of the problems with catching murderers of naval personnel was, some- times they fought back, and a few were actually agents of foreign governments. Some of the spooks got into gray areas, such as infiltrating terrorist organ- isations, and became threats when they put their governments ahead of America.

To be blunt, some NCIS Special Agents were killed in the line of duty. There was a wall in the office opposite the 'Most Wanted' posters, and everyone dealt with the pain of another KIA picture in their own way.

*

The man who had the most contact with murder victims was of course the Chief Medical Examiner Dr Donald Mallard. A Scotsman originally, someone had taken his family name and nicknamed him 'Ducky'. He'd resented it at first, but got used to it, and even introduced himself that way. "Call me Ducky, everyone does."

I think the man's a bit creepy because he has to deal with dead people. He tries to make light of it, by talking to them. "Let's see what you have to tell us", by which he meant, what forensic evidence such as bruises, skin scrapings, lint or animal hair would help solve a case.

He sent the evidence up a floor to the forensics lab for analysis. The tech was one Abigail Scuito, who used the name Abby. She was also a Goth who wore a dog collar to work and tattoos on various intimate body parts she didn't show.

The woman slept in a bed shaped like a coffin, even with a lid! But she didn't seem morbid or depressed. In fact, the day she met Danielle, Abby was engaged in a war of wills with Major Mass Spec, which was her whimsical name for the mass spectrometer which revealed what a sample was made of.

Major Mass Spec seemed to have it in for Abby this morning. Maybe it was mad she'd pushed the maintenance tech out of the lab, which she thought of as 'her' territory. He was just a distraction, in the way of her using the Spec because Gibbs was pushing her to solve another case.

Major Mass Spec was complaining about the lack of personal care. At least that's how Abby anthropomorphised the thing, which basically heated a sample to vapor, destroying it. Then polarised light shone through the vapor and the vapor absorbed light in specific patterns according to the physics of how the molecules were built.

You probably thought high school chemistry and that Periodic Table of the Elements was just boring stuff that kept you away from intimate meetings with your boy- or girl- friend. I don't care which, so go ahead and admit it! But Abby had absorbed the chemistry and physics eagerly, and now she got to Make a Difference in the World. Are you?

Anyway, Abby thought there was a problem because she kept getting a reading of fox hair mixed with human skin cells. Even the DNA seemed confused. She called down to Autopsy to ask Ducky where he'd gotten the sample, and accused him of contaminating it somehow.

Ducky usually tossed this stuff off like, well, a duck tosses off water. But today he was short-tempered, mainly because his own forensic examination had turned up contradictions. Fox fur and claw bits on Chief Petty Officer Dani- elle Roberts seemed to say she was murdered while caressing a fox, but that was obviously senseless.

Foxes weren't human-sized, and they certainly didn't have human DNA! But that's what Ducky's samples said, and Abby's Major Mass Spec said the same. Then what the *hell* had Roberts been up to? Where and when had she met a fox and gotten its fur in, well, places Ducky needed his professionalism to muck around?

*

Special Agent Gibbs came down to Autopsy to interrupt Ducky's irrita- tion. Gibbs did this frequently, and Ducky thought he was just interfering in the CME's territory. Despite Ducky's somewhat shady past having to examine people killed in wars, he didn't seem to twig this was Jethro's way of getting Ducky to take a break, step back and take a metaphorical breath of fresh air.

See, the thing is, people get too focused on little problems and forget how they all fit together. Fitting them is how you catch the crook. And asking questions got Ducky to have to explain, so he had to organise his thoughts. Jethro hadn't risen to become a Chief Gunnery Officer in the Marines by just being a gung-ho Rambo type.

Investigation is part science, part psychology. Learn how a bad guy thinks to predict his behaviour and trap him into confession. Then throw the basterd in a cage, lock it tight, and forget about the cage, not just the key. Society has a duty to protect itself from sickies.

Gibbs listened to Ducky's usual ramblings, as he thought out loud and rela- ted the new data to something he'd already encountered. Gibbs had learned Ducky thought this way and let the man free-associate for about five minutes, then interrupted to get Ducky back on track.

How the *hell* do you get evidence so FUBAR it says there was human and fox DNA on the dead Petty Officer? It was worse than some human hair and then some fox. Abby's mass spec said it was mixed together in one sample! And it wasn't just one, it was all the forensic evidence on the dead woman.

There was evidence the woman had been, ahem! *with* someone just prior to her death. *How* she died was still unknown, there were no ligature marks or partiecial hemorrhage from strangulation. The wide lines of bruises on her wrists and ankles showed she'd been tied down.

But there were no rope marks or any patterns. And no fibers to match to material. Whatever had held her while she was forcibly pleasured had left no evidence. But there was plenty of evidence of her repeated pleasure.

What little evidence was left on the body pointed to her being held down, but she hadn't struggled. If it was rape, why not? The toxicology report showed traces of MDMA, the rave drug Ecstasy, but it wouldn't keep her from fighting. She might feel a bit friendly, but she'd know what was being done to her.

And there was that damn fox DNA again! Danielle had been repeatedly raped by a human fox, that's what Ducky's and Abby's examinations showed. And she'd very obviously enjoyed it. The best theory the forensic team could come up with was the petty officer had had an intense sexual experience with a group of human foxes!

And they had better endurance than the woman, because they weren't at the scene where she'd been found naked and gooey and very satisfied. But dead. A myocardial infarction? A blood clot could stop the heart, and if she'd been, erm, exercising she'd die quickly from lack of oxygen.

*

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wasn't the first to say that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever's left, however improbable, must be the truth. He had his detective Sherlock Holmes use the reasoning repeatedly to solve crime, and although Holmes and Watson were fiction, the concept holds true.

For NCIS Director Vance the case was particularly vexing, because it was so obviously impossible. Foxes are small canids, related to dogs, and they might bite and give someone disease, but they didn't pleasure people to death.

The killer had to be human. Even if Danielle had died of a heart attack, it was caused by some sick basterd they could out-think and catch. So it wasn't very probable, but it had to be that that he wore a fox-fur jacket, or scarf. That would explain the mixed DNA Dr Mallard found.

Maybe several scarves, that would explain holding her down but not bruising her. To be perfectly honest, since he'd worked in Washington DC USA he'd had to learn about kinky stuff, and he thought the whole government was full of corrupt sickies who'd love to use fur to attack people.

Vance hadn't always been so pessimistic. But he'd read Mark Twain books, and Sam Clemens had said that Congress was America's native criminal class. He'd seen enough underhanded stuff from elected officials, and it wasn't just political smear campaigns and tawdry sex.

OK, so there was just one more sicko loose in Washington. A fur killer. Vance sighed, because he knew the guy was out there somewhere, cackling his sicko head off hidden among all the other sickos. And the sickos were elected to run the country!

The next problem was, you had to be *really* sure something was impossible before eliminating it. He'd have thought poisoning someone with a radioactive pellet injected by a rifle concealed in an umbrella was impossible, but there was that guy in England.

So was it *really* impossible to mix fox and human DNA? Vance knew the term 'chimera' and talked to Gibbs about the way-off-the-wall concept. Gibbs was skeptical about the Director's sanity, but when he asked Agent Tim McGee about it, the young computer-nerd took the idea and ran with it.

*

As it happened, Vance's way-out question turned the tide in the inves- tigation. Gibbs barely used email and left the tech stuff to Tim, who did some nerd stuff and came up with the webpage of Biological Synthetics Incorporated, "the world's premier company in the field of DNA recombination." Jackpot!

There were two branches of the company that was started in the early 1990s by Mark Harris and Tom Warner for DNA research. No one else realised that they didn't need to sequence all three-billion DNA pairs, just the ones that made synthetic insulin and blood plasma.

Sell to hospitals, get enough profit and government grants to go further. Synthetics don't have antigens, so no body rejection! With the new micropumps from Hot!Tech, diabetes simply disappeared! And mass production made the products relatively inexpensive.

I know yer eyes are glazin over so I'll skip the details. BSI Medical made Recombinant DNA practical with human bone marrow, red and white blood cells, whole blood. They made little cholesterol-eating cells. Heart disease stopped.

BSIMed entire organs were next. Totally organic, totally 'real'. Just made in labs, not people. No exploratory surgery, just DNA-based tests find a sick body part. Replace it with a new one, BSI style. Synthetic, built immune to disease.

There was a "Frankenstein's Monster!" backlash against fully-made artificial people. Way too creepy! So the government made BSIMed mix animal DNA in, and the second branch, BioSyn Labs was born. Animal-people walked almost upright and talked simple English, but they were dumber than animals without instincts.

On purpose. Chimera were products, and nobody wants their product getting ideas. Recom DNA Level Three Generation Two laborers and guards were just self-mobile tools you could order around.

The BSIMed organs were stronger, better than natural organics. The R3G2s were stronger, faster than humans, but totally obedient to the one who bought them. They were made that way, to control them.

Scientists can't leave 'good enough' alone, they have to keep mucking about. BioSyn Labs added a bit of mind to chimera, keeping them obedient but making domestic servants. Laborers had to be told every step, they could barely fig- ure out how to walk without being told step left, step right, over and over.

R4s are brighter. Still dumber than some work dogs, like Hungarian Pueleys that know a hundred different commands for herding sheep. All this background led Gibbs and his team to a field trip to Butte Montana USA, the only DNA mix production line in America.

They were quite shocked when they arrived in Butte's little airport. OK, airports weren't a shock, but baggage claim had all their luggage undamaged, which was a nice change from American companies.

The shock came when they saw their limo driver. He, or maybe it, was a DNA mix rabbit! The long floppy ears, quivering whiskers, white fur. Gibbs thought of Alice in Wonderland and wondered if he'd somehow been slipped some weird hallucinogenic mushrooms.

When the Rabbit got out to help them put their luggage in the boot, I mean trunk in America, the team got the second shock. The Rabbit was barefoot with just a formal jacket and skimpy shorts on his furry body! And his puff tail looked quite comical as he partly hopped. Tony found himself hoping they made girl Rabbits too.

The Rabbit was stronger than any human. Well, maybe not body-builders, but he handled the luggage like the heavy ones were no difficulty. "I'm made this way, Sirs." he said helpfully. He barely pronounced the m's and stretched the s's with an inhuman but quite understandable voice.

*

OK, so Vance was right about Ducky's and Abby's evidence of both ani- mal and human DNA. The team talked with Melissa Thompson because she was head of the chimera department. She works in Lab Four making R4G2 servants and sex workers.

Yes, she made fox-human mixes. But she controlled their DNA and thus their minds, and was quite adamant that no mix could even think of hurting a human without being paralysed in the mind. She'd made them that way on purpose and made sure the electric shocks burned their minds into total obedience.

But the team had thought to bring along a sample of their forensic evidence. Sure, Mel could analyse the DNA and narrow down who, or rather what, had pro- vided the fur. Due to the fact she operated several high-powered workstations the human was bright enough to ask why they wanted to know.

Mel Thompson knew she could think of different avenues of investigation. Gibbs was pretty cagey, because it was possible Mel had used a fox to murder Danielle Roberts, despite her claims to the contrary.

It wasn't impossible, so she was a suspect. Now they knew chimerae existed, every single one of them had to be interrogated, especially the foxes. The first one they talked with was a lovely light gray girl fox. She was R4G2/ KvJ31, and her name was Betty.

Well, it was another shock for the team, because Betty was a product and Mel had mixed her DNA to make her into a man's possession. A slave to be blunt, and mixes are taught how to please men and women on the floor and in the bed. Betty's original buyer had died in a car accident, and she'd been thoroughly despondent, unable to help train younger mixes until one younger foxboy helped her remember her duty and showed her she was wanted.

Anyway, Betty was led in on a leash, rather like a dumb dog pet except she walked mostly upright. Mixes look a lot like short people who happen to be furry. Until you get to the obvious animal head.

DiNozzo wasn't looking that high. His overdeveloped sense of lechery had looked up the beast, from her bare hindpaws up her long digitigrade foot arches, her heels in the air, her bent ankles sliding furrily up her shins and calves to her knees. Bent unlike a human, and Tony's roving eyes slid up the vixen's lower, mid, and upper thighs.

Betty was definitely a fox. And like an animal, she didn't wear clothes. At all! Even Gibbs looked at her curvy body, especially her very human-shaped breasts, because they swung freely as she walked and were only covered with fur. Nobody could see more than the basic curvy shape you'd see in a Vic- toria's Secret lingerie advert.

As Betty was a slave, she wore two-inch wide leather cuffs around her neck, both wrists, both ankles. They had D-shaped rings which tinkled musically as she walked on leash. Abby was kinky enough to know what the rings were used for, Tony just thought with his little head as usual, Tim's mind was pretty useless with organics and Gibbs let himself stare.

Mel knew what effect a nude fur slave had on men so she just let them get an eyeful. Betty was made and bent to enjoy men looking her over, so she knelt submissively when Mel gently snapped the leash down. Betty was very well trained and very submissive.

Gibbs had to ask for water to clear his throat. Mel released Betty's leash and ordered the animal to stand and fetch a tray, a pitcher of cold water, and six drinking glasses. The NCIS agents noted Mel had to use the word drinking.

*

So Betty knew of other things called glasses. Abby's keen mind was already planning questions, the men were struggling to keep up. Their minds I mean. They saw the female's smooth body movements as she stood, turned and walked out. Her bushy tail waved suggestively as it alternately covered and revealed her unclothed rump.

It was definitely possible someone had lured Danielle to some kinky party with fur slaves, given her a fox to distract her, and ordered the beast to perform. Since chimera are stronger with greater endurance than humans, even a male could have pleasured her repeatedly and vigourously enough to cause a heart attack.

Quite soon the nude vixen returned. She knelt and offered the tray to her Mistress, Melissa Thompson. Mel slid the tray onto the table and let Betty up enough to pour water for Gibbs, Ducky, Tony, Tim and Abby. As guests they were to be served first, then Betty served her Mistress.

The vixen was just a beast so she wasn't allowed to sit and drink. And with her long skinny fox snout, she couldn't drink like a human could. She'd have to be allowed a drinking straw since the glasses were far too narrow for her long tongue to form a dipper as dogs do.

Betty knelt submissively after Mel took the sixth glass. She tried to hide her glance to the water dish shared by any mix who came here, but Mistress Mel saw and clucked. Betty immediately faced front and ducked her head. She was afraid of punishment.

Gibbs interrupted. He asked Betty if she'd been away from the building at any time in the past week, and was surprised Betty asked him, "what word, Master?" He'd never been called master before and was uncomfortable with the word.

Sure he'd called Marine officers Sir, but he'd enlisted and worked for a living. He'd been Gunny, never Sir. And sure he'd owned dogs, so he'd been their master, but they never talked to him. This sexy vixen responded to his assertive bearing and wanted to serve him, up close and personal.

The way she looked at him and moved her body told him that much. Betty wanted to submit to Tony too, because he obviously desired her. The other older Master seemed less interested, perhaps he was tired?

But Betty was trained to please tired old men too, with her furry body skills. Perhaps he'd like a nice sensuous dance, Betty swaying and wiggling her considerable skills for his artistic enjoyment. Sure, that was it.

The younger Master confused Betty. He was obviously looking her body over, just as the other three Masters did, and Betty was built to enjoy men looking. But Tim seemed actually embarrassed he wanted to stroke her fur and feel her curves. Heck, that's what fur slaves of any gender are made for!

Mistress Abby was the only one seemingly calm about Betty's fur nudity. besides her creator Mistress Mel of course. Mel like to test her creations, and if you think a woman can't test a female slave, you really need to get out more.

In fact it was Abby, the Goth forensic tech, who told Betty to come over if it was OK with Mel. Mistress gave her permission and Betty closed her front paws like a fist to crawl on them to Mistress Abby.

Abby was about to object to this show of obsequious submission but stopped herself. Mel hadn't ordered Betty to crawl, so maybe the beast had decided on her own? Abby wanted to know how much the slaves thought and how much they blindly obeyed.

Because if any human could command any slave, and even the foxgirl was stronger than a human woman, they had a serious weapon problem. Any one of Mel's beasts would be a mindless killer on command! Unless they had the mind to realise killing was wrong, and the will to refuse a direct order.

If the slaves were just mindless organic machines, they'd feel no fear, no pity, no remorse! Abby shivered because Mel had said the R3G2 Guards did that, and they were too dumb to know they were hungry or even feel pain! How the heck could humans protect themselves, fight such ... things?!

*

Betty Foxgirl crawled to obey quickly but not startle the Mistress unfamiliar with commanding fur slaves. Betty wanted very much to kiss all the Masters' feet and lick their ankles like a dog pet, because she'd been told Masters like that and she was bent enough to need to please.

Mistresses liked Kiss and Lick too, and Betty helplessly brushed her snout on Mistress Mel's shoes as she crawled by. But Mistress told her no, not yet. Go to the New Mistress to obey Her command. Mixes were bent to think of their duties in title capital letters, like a trick for a dog.

Betty reached Mistress Abby. The woman put Her hand down, and Betty knew it was the command to Heel and present herself for Pet. As Betty rounded the corner of the conference table she skillfully slipped her back end around first like a fast race car skids itself around a curve.

Betty ended up with her back to the wall and her snout to the table. All she saw was the five pairs of legs of the Masters and Mistress Mel, and the crossed pair of Mistress Abby. Betty brushed her cold vulpy nose on the hand still casually reaching for her.

Abby liked the fox, her obedience, her willingness to serve. The human pet- ted the fox and both females enjoyed it. Abby felt a desire to buy a vixen companion for herself.

Gibbs and Ducky were probably too used to solitude to actually enjoy a pet. Gibbs had been married four times, and one of his exes had married and divor- ced the head of the FBI. Gibbs might let a dumb dog pet curl up near him as he worked on yet another wooden boat in his basement.

But Gibbs wouldn't bother being held responsible for the animal. At the first ring of the phone, he'd be off demanding his team meet him at a crime scene. Abby was used to working with machines and computers. They never complained about conditions, just took as much time as it took to do their work. You can't rush science.

And Ducky still lived with his elderly mother. OK it was his house, but he had the responsibility. No room for a pet. Ducky seemed more comfy with dead people than living ones.

Tony was far too busy dreaming about women and trying to trick them into bed to bother with a pet. Tim was too busy with tech to bother feeding organics. Abby had to remind the man to eat lunch at work. Talk about being focused!

OK, Abby had her kinks too. The big tattoo of a cross on her back was curvy and she liked teasing men with where else she wore tattoos. Not her face, hint. So none of the NCIS team could really take the time an animal pet would require.

*

But that's exactly Biological Synthetics Kennel's point. No time for a pet? Buy a fur slave instead! These things walk around, know about keeping themselves clean, feed themselves! And they're domestic servants, they'll do your home's walls and floors, keep 'em spotless, eat off 'em if you say so.

They're too dumb to get bored if you leave for work. Heck, tell em once what they're allowed to clean in your home, maybe twice about how you want the furniture arranged, they'll move it, vacuum and dust, move it back! They know about glass and they're stronger than humans, very careful with your priceless antiques or irreplaceable plates.

OK, the paws mean they don't have long fingers, and the dewclaw isn't quite a thumb, but they use their bare pawpads to hold even wet glass. Of course they wash themselves with soap and water, so no wet animal smell. If you give them a pet bed, they'll curl up and cover their parts with their tails.

Unless you order them to show themselves of course. After all, they're pleasure toys too. They brush their many carnivore teeth, even the carnas- sials, and they're fun in bed. They're big enough to enjoy, small enough to submit. Please try one, like me.

I'll sleep against the door to protect you. If someone does attack, I'll pounce in front of you, in the way. I'll always be there for you, never get mad or bored, and I'll die to protect you. You know you want a fox like me.

OK, Mistress Mel made me this way, to say all the ways fur slaves can give Humans pleasure, so you'll buy one or more and pay the Kennels. Please don't hurt me for speaking.

After Abby asked Betty what the vixen could do for humans, Gibbs got back to his question. Betty had asked him what word, because she didn't know what a week was. A group of seven days. Oh, yes Master, I've been here in Kennel.

Even when the vixen went outside, it was a covered walkway and small court- yard surrounded by buildings where they trained fur slaves as domestic ser- vants. Betty was quite sure she'd only seen the Vet in his office downstairs.

Since Betty's buyer was dead, the Kennel staff took turns with Betty. No sense letting her skills weaken, she was an expensive product. But there were many rooms in the compound for, er, personal training.

Tony perked up noticeably at that revelation. Different buildings meant fur slaves walked around, and although they were led on leashes, Betty had walked to fetch water. Betty offered herself to the men first, and seemed slightly afraid she'd insulted Abby.

Mel smiled at her product's willingness. She was glad the beast had recov- ered from her depression at finding her buyer was killed. Mel had been quite thrilled to learn the thing *had* feelings, since it meant the electric shocks had formed enough mind in the vixen.

Ducky seemed to have a professional interest as a medical doctor in what an R4 could do for humans. Perhaps he wasn't so old he'd forgotten how to hug and caress a female. And Betty was furry, fun to explore, wanting a man's touch.

Even Tim seemed curious. He was strangely apologetic about it though, as if he thought he would be punished for wanting to rub Betty. Well, Tim, of course there are other species, and would you like to try some other carnivore, or maybe a rodent?

*

Gibbs didn't have enough hands to head-slap everyone else, and he was thinking about some fur action himself. Why were they so intent on distracting the investigative team? He knew he should steer the team back to the murder, but conceded they could get valuable information about who could have used a fox as a murder weapon.

How to get forensics, though? The beasts washed themselves, so they'd have to find a party room where Danielle had been. Of course Gibbs showed Mel a pic of their vic, and she offered to 'run it through' their guest list.

Betty knew what a computer looked like, at least the Kennel's terminals. There were several keyboard-displays in the conference room. Tim was the first to get up, but he seemed to have trouble finding the mouse pointing device.

Mel told him they used Hot!Tech machines, and there was no mouse, because it was a child's toy. Tim bristled. Mel said there was no need for a mouse, there was no GUI. Just type words, like you speak to a mix. Simple words, one word for each thing, one meaning for each word.

Gibbs liked that. Make the computer take typing, not make people learn how a big company wanted people to use the thing. A GUI restricts what you can do to what someone else made an icon for. Why should I depend on that?

But what words to use? Well, the intent was to search, so we need to know where. All the guest information was in files in a folder named, simply, Guest. Search all files in Guest for the name Danielle Roberts.

Mel went to a keyboard, inserted a USB drive (Tim explained) which identi- fied her work area, and typed a login and password. Security would know it was someone with Mel's disk, her DNA and ID info. It would be quite difficult to trick it, even putting her hand on the tester, because it checked angle of force and pulse.

Mel merely typed !EX /App16/TS /Usr/All/Guest/*.* "Daniel" & "Robert" and the search started. It was so much easier than having to search a display for a little picture, point to it, and WAIT WAIT WAIT for a Windows machine to get its act together before showing a bunch of white boxes to type.

The Text Search took several seconds, but the screen showed an increasing number. No bar, no pictures, just two digits. That's all anyone needs anyway to know the machine's working.

Mel wasn't sure of the spelling, so she made the machine look. No guessing, just if the Guest was Daniel Robert, it was OK to show the match along with Daniel Robertson and ...

OK here it is, number on the left and name. Just a list, no damn pictures to slow it down. Tim was quite impressed with the speed. He was used to waiting, waiting, waiting for an Automated Fingerprint Identification System match or just a company's personnel files.

Five matches including Robert Daniels and Roberta Danielssohn in about two seconds. One thousand fifty-four guests this year to search. Just push the 'four' key for Danielle Roberts. She'd been here a month ago, borrowed a wolf boy and led him to Building 3 Room 107. First floor.

Well, a wolf wasn't a fox, the DNA was different. But the forensics team checked out the room anyway. Lots of wicked stuff for tying a fur slave to a wall, to a support column, to the floor, on the bed ...

OK, Tony was practically drooling, and Abby really liked what she saw. She wanted to bring her boyfriend, because he was kinky enough to enjoy the ... nevermind, I'm trying to keep this PG13, or at least TV-MA.