FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Act XIII

***

Their helicopter landed near Mace's West Coast operations hub where an employee came out in a Cushman scooter to pick them up. He was on time but the young man looked upset for some reason.

“Good morning, Sir." the young, dark haired man offered, waiting for them to get themselves situated.

“Rick, is something wrong?" Mace asked, noting he seemed somewhat distracted.

“Yeah, I need to take you to the freight terminal, Sir. It seems there's a problem with some of the freight that came over from Australia." he replied.

“What's the problem, Rick?"

“I don't know, Sir. Robin from receiving told me to pick you up as soon as you were on the ground and bring you to the freight hanger."

“Hmm, If Robin wanted me over there this fast, it must be trouble. She never panics unless it's a real problem."

A few moments later they were stopping in front of a building that said “Alexander Freight Services" on the front and a very upset looking, tall, slender female standing outside the main office door in the building.

“Mace, get in here quickly," she requested, disappearing back through the door in a blur. The trio followed her, through the offices to the freight warehouse. “Mace, it's that unclaimed crate your number two freight crew flew over here as a 'hot ship' from Australia that's the problem. There's something funny about it that I don't like because nobody's come to get it."

“OK, Robin, point it out," he stated, following her to a crate that was about six and a half feet tall by six feet square. Trisha took one look at the crate and her blood ran cold; it looked like a chimera transport crate to her. Why she knew that, she didn't know. As they grew closer, they could hear something inside making noises.

“Robin, hand me your pocket flashlight. I'm going to bite the bullet and open this thing up," Mace stated, looking at the handle to see how to open the small door in front.

“Sweetheart, let me do it," Trisha offered, grabbing the handle that was held closed by a padlock and yanked it sharply with her massive arms, snapping the padlock and security seal easily. Swinging the now-bent to hell handle around, she allowed the door to swing open. She grabbed the flashlight from Mace before he could protest and stooped down to climb in, seeing feet inside the door. It was a transport crate after all and it was obviously occupied.

Once inside, she stood up to see that there were four chimera females in this crate. By the urine smell, it was quite obvious that they had been in here for several days. The floor was made of moulded plastic so it could be hosed out between uses. Three of them, a tigress, a gray wolf and an arctic fox were out but the fourth one was awake and frightened to tears. She was a leopard appaloosa equine that Trisha thought she might know personally.

“Trisha! Is everything OK in there?" Mace called out.

“Yeah, there's some ladies in here. I'm going to see if I can help them to get out of here." she replied, turning back to her work.

“Mmmmmfff!" the spotted one tried to yell out around her gag, shaking her head to get Trisha's attention.

“Tracy??" Trisha blurted out when she finally recognized her, getting the elaborate feeding gag out of the spotted one's mouth.

“Patricia?" the bound femme queried, trying to get herself under control. “Oh My Gawd, Patty, where the hell are we? I've been locked up in here for several days now!" she added, trying to stand still so Trisha could remove her bonds that had her secured firmly to the crate wall. Once the bonds were loose, the spotted mare, who was also a 87H, fell into Trisha's arms crying almost uncontrollably.

“It's OK, Tracy, we're getting you out of here, hon. I gotta tell you, this is odd because I thought I heard you were dead," she pointed out, holding her until she quit crying.

“No, I was shot up pretty bad but they couldn't kill me," she replied, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I went back for a second tour and paid those bastards back with interest. Um, Patty ... how are we gonna get them out of here?" she asked, pointing at the other ladies still bound to the walls.

“I'll wake them up," Trisha stated, taking the box that was attached to Tracy's head harness and programming it for a wake up signal. She removed the gags from their mouths then triggered the box over each one of their heads, bringing them out of their forced sleep.

“Wha ..." the tigress stated groggily, shaking her head to wake up further. “Whu ... where are we?" she asked, trying to get woke up the rest of the way. The other two ladies just moaned, trying to wake up themselves.

“Sweetheart, are you Millicent Archer?" Trisha asked, taking a wild guess about this while she was looking at the tiger's pupils to see that they were reacting normally.

“Thas ... that's me," she replied slowly, still taking in her current situation.

Trisha helped Tracy out of the box then got the others loose, letting them get out too. The four women looked around at the freight hanger, three of them still dazed while Trisha took their control boxes off of their head harnesses. These boxes had all Chinese writing on them, making the buckskin female feel just a little bit uncomfortable about the situation.

“Do you think one of you ladies might remember why you four were in that box?" Mace asked while Robin called Customs and the FBI.

“I was offered a job at a resort, working as an entertainer," Tracy spoke up. “I went to the address in Brisbane they had given me over the phone, looking to sign on for some work but they ambushed me instead, taking me at gunpoint to a warehouse that was full of these boxes."

“Me too," the fox stated, still not fully awake but she was trying her best to follow the conversation at hand. The femme wolf just nodded, still rubbing her muzzle to wake up all the way.

“Mace, you know what Tracy meant by 'entertainers', don't you?" Trisha asked, checking all of the ladies for good vital signs.

“Yeah, I think I do," he replied, looking at the shipping manifest that went with the crate. “Hmm, the receiving individual was supposed to pick up the crate two days ago. That's why it was a hot ship item; these ladies were in the crate."

“I called that number listed on the manifest but it's been disconnected." Robin offered up.

“Trisha, this is bad," Mace offered up, looking to see if she was paying attention. What he discovered by looking at the two female equines standing there, talking to one another was, besides their coloration, Trisha and Tracy looked like twins. “Um, you know, you two almost look alike."

“Well, in theory I'm Patty's older sister," Tracy offered up. “I'm the oldest one, my serial number is 1 sequentially lower than hers. There are five of us that all share the same exact genetic material but for some odd reason, we're all different colorations."

“Yeah, she made me treat her as my elder at Brandon," Trisha proffered up, giving Tracy a hug. “At least you're out of that frigging shipping crate now."

“Speaking of that, which way to the lady's head?" the spotted femme asked, realizing just how bad she needed to go and relieve herself despite having been given an enema before being boxed up.

“It's over there," Robin pointed out, indicating the facilities. The foursome scrambled for the lady's room, trying to beat each other there. Once they were out of hearing range, Trisha pointed something out to Mace.

“You know exactly where they were headed to," she proffered up. “They were headed for Blue Diamond. They thought Tigre was Millicent and they were quite sure I was Tracy when we were brought there."

“That's what I thought you meant when you said that," he replied, sitting down on a convenient crate. “This crate came from Australia so we'll probably have to be interviewed by a ton of badges seeking answers we probably won't have."

***

Sarah was starting her morning, patiently waiting in line to get some breakfast this morning. She hadn't slept well last night, still thinking about the problems that had cropped up for her the last evening. The cameras that she returned to service just recently had quit working again.

John R. Deckard from security was in line in front of her and he seemed somewhat bothered too. He turned, spotting her standing in line.

“Sarah, you might want to come by my office this morning," he told her, giving her a crooked smile. “I noticed a few more cameras have quit. I made a list for you, just to make them easier for you to locate and fix the offending ones."

“Thanks, John, I just don't know what to make of this," she commented, thinking somebody was having their way with her systems and that was pissing her off to no end.

“I'm tellin' ya, when we catch whoever is doin' this, they're toast." he pointed out. “Oh Well, see ya in a little bit."

“OK, I'll see you after breakfast." she stated, watching him take his food with him to his office. John never did this unless he was either swamped or upset.

Sarah took her tray, finding a seat by a few of the maintenance workers. She sat down, greeting each of them by name.

“You look bothered," Ray Stanton the house electrician stated, seeing the look on her face that meant she was not very chipper this morning.

“Yeah, it's these darn camera failures again," she proffered up, not wanting to say 'sabotage' right out in the open. “It's keeping me busy trying to stay ahead of them."

***

“I'm Special Agent Jack Riley, FBI," the man wearing the cheap suit informed Mace, getting a notepad out to write on. “I just want you to know, this is just an investigation at the moment."

Mace nodded, making himself comfortable in his manager's office. The feds and Customs had swarmed the place, looking at files, opening crates and 'interviewing' the ladies at length.

“What can I tell ya that ya haven't already heard, Agent Riley?" Mace asked, feeling very tired and ready to go home. This had been a very embarrassing moment for Alexander Freight Services because that shipping crate had come from a reliable freight forwarding source. The manifest had labeled the contents of the box, the girls, as 'Entertainment Equipment' of all things. What was more embarrassing was the fact that they had shipped similar containers in the past from Australia to the USA.

“I want to know exactly what you were doing here, so far away from home," he replied somewhat tersely, pulling off his sunglasses to stare down the embarrassed businessman.

“I was here, retrieving my lover and her co-worker that had been kidnapped from Hawaii. We were on our way home when Robin, my employee alerted me about this crate that was a hot ship and never got picked up. The phone number of the contact for that crate is disconnected, too."

“So, you're telling me you had nothing to do with it?" he asked, making notes on his pad.

“That's what I'm telling you. I had nothing to do with it. In fact, one of my employees helped break up a ring that was smuggling chimerae out of Hawaii."

“Do tell, Mr. Alexander. I'll check up on that," he stated, scribbling a few more notes on his pad. “So, this Patricia Pollard is your girlfriend?"

“She's much more than that," Mace offered up. “I ... I'm in love with her."

“Oh ... kay, you're lovers, then. How did she know how to get them out of that box and wake them up?" the agent asked, giving Mace a very odd look.

“Look, I'm sure she's told you that she works for Blue Hawaii as a tamer. She knows how to use these control boxes." the man under scrutiny pointed out. He held one up to show the agent what he was talking about.

“You're telling me that box can do things to them?"

“That's what I'm telling you."

“Do you think your girlfriend could show me how this thing works?" the agent asked while he was looking at the device, trying to decode the writing.

“I can ask," Mace told him, waiting until the agent motioned to him to get up. He went into the staff break room and sat down by Trisha, getting her hands into his.

“Um, Mace, what's up?" she asked. She could see the concern in his eyes.

“Agent Riley wants a demonstration on how those control boxes work."

“You're kidding me, right?" Trisha was giving her lover a very concerned look. She hated messing around with those things, even if she somehow knew just how they worked.

“Sorry, Trisha. I'm not kidding. Maybe Tigre or Tracy could assist you."

“Um, I could help out," Tracy proffered up. “I trust her not to do something bad to me."

“OK Tracy, I'll just put you to sleep, then," Trisha offered up. “Fifteen minutes, no memory reset."

The three of them went back to the manager's office, quickly telling the agent what they were going to do. The agent seemed a bit skeptical about this.

“How asleep will she be?" he asked, still giving them strange looks, like he wasn't buying it.

“She will be unconscious, Sir." Trisha replied. “You won't be able to wake her for fifteen minutes."

“OK, go ahead then," he told them, sitting down on the edge of the desk while Tracy got comfortable for her part. Trisha quickly programmed the control box, setting it to make her 'sister' chimera 'sleep' for the specified amount of time. Holding the box over Tracy's head, Trisha triggered the device, causing the spotted mare to yawn widely, then quickly slip off to sleep.

“Agent Riley, she's asleep now. You can't wake her for fifteen minutes without one of these." Trisha stated, holding up the box she had used. The agent nodded, then checked Tracy over to se if she was actually asleep. He tapped her on the cheek a bit, shook her shoulders then cupped her breasts very briefly to see if she would react to that stimulation. Giving it some thought, he left the room in a hurry.

“Where the hell is he going?" Mace asked nobody in particular. The agent returned in a few minutes, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

“Would you two step out of the office with me?" Agent Riley asked, motioning for them to leave. Once they had stepped out the room, he pulled a flash-bang grenade from his pocket. “Let's see it this wakes her up. I'm betting it will." he stated with a sly grin. Before they could stop him, he pulled the pin and pitched it into the room, the resulting explosion causing dust to fall from the rafters of the warehouse.

They pushed the door to the room open only to see Tracy still sleeping in her chair, unmoved. The agent checked her vitals to see that she was still alive, much to his dismay.

“I could have told you that wouldn't work," Trisha proffered up, checking Tracy herself.

“Geez, I guess you weren't kidding," the agent mused, looking at the situation. “You know, is it just me or do you two look alike, beside the coloring?"

“Yeah, we're one serial number apart," Trisha proffered up. “I guess you could say we're sisters, in a way."

“Well, I guess you could wake her up now," the agent suggested, satisfied that they were telling the truth about these boxes.

Trisha programmed the control box in her possession for a wake-up signal, bringing Tracy out of her forced sleep.

“Um, are we done?" the spotted femme asked, looking up at her sister.

“Yeah, that was it," Trisha replied, first programming the box with a passcode then turning the box over and removing the battery like she had done to the other ones. Now if they were truly like Brandon boxes despite the Chinese characters, they couldn't be used without her code to unlock them. The internal flash memory would hold her code, regardless to time left without a battery installed.

“Are we finished here? I need to clean up the mess you just made with that grenade," Mace pointed out, crossing his arms and giving the agent an exasperated look. “We also need to figure out what to do with these ladies, since I think all of them are self owning."

“These ladies, as you put it, are all in the country illegally, since they don't have passports," Agent Riley pointed out. “Unless you can produce a passport for each one of them, I'll have to detain them for extradition back to Australia."

“I'll bet our passports are somewhere in that crate," Tracy proffered up. “I saw the men that crated us put all of them in a manila envelope when we were being loaded up."

They went back out to the crate, looking it over carefully. The envelope in question was tacked to the wall behind the padding where Bonny Taylor, the vixen was strapped in. A quick look produced their passports and driver's licenses along with Millicent's CID card. Not many chimerae carried them, but it was a necessary evil if that chimera didn't have a driver's license.

“At least they can stay for the time being but you need to take them over to Customs and check them in properly," the agent suggested, looking straight at Mace. “And before you think I'm being a jerk, I have a chimera of my own, a very sweet Golemtech Mark 8 female cougar. She's a great housekeeper, a lot better than my ex-wife, she's very good with my three children, keeping them in line and she keeps me warm at night, too. I'm not down on chimeras, Mr. Alexander, it's just these ladies need to go through Customs properly."

“I'll take care of that as soon as you say we're done here," Mace retorted, trying not to voice his opinion of the agent's methodology. “So, you're telling me you have a chimera and you didn't have a clue what a control box was?" Mace queried.

“Uh, I bought her through my cousin, who deals in discharged ex-military chimeras. She didn't come with a box."

“Do you trust her completely? You do know she's stronger than several men combined and as a former soldier she might possibly have her failsafe disabled."

“Uh, maybe I should look into that," the agent mused, writing a note to himself. He then gave Mace a business card and left without saying a word further.

“Tracy, you're self-owning, right?" Mace asked, just so he could figure out how he could possibly help the females out.

“Yeah, the Australian Army was going to auction a bunch of us off as damaged goods at a silent auction so I bid on myself and won the auction. Bonny and Joanne did the same thing at the same auction and that made more than a few of the regular bidders upset. Millicent was lucky enough to make it to the end of her enlistment unscathed so they had no other option except to turn her ownership over to her. Typically during wartime, no chimera makes it out either in one piece like Millicent did or like Bonny, Joanne and I did, as damaged goods. We're usually sent to the hot spots to mop up things so we're almost always sent back in body bags." It was clear that the thought of dead comrades in arms made both of the ladies sad.

“You know, if I closed my eyes, I would have a tough time telling you two apart by voice alone except Tracy has a slight Aussie accent." Mace proffered up.

“I do not sound like her!" the two females both said at the same time, making their voices sound like a weird stereo effect. That made Mace crack up.

“Well, I think we need to figure out what each of you ladies wants to do from here," Mace finally got out after stifling his laughing fit. “I can either help all of you get back to Australia or wherever else you all might want to go."

***

Sarah finished her breakfast so she put her tray with the others on the cleanup line and headed out the door, headed for John's office. On the way, she ran into Linda.

“Morning, Sarah," Linda bid, giving her a hug. “Is there something wrong?" Linda could feel the tension in the appaloosa mare's body.

“Yeah, there is," she replied, pulling Linda into a side hall. “You know about the cameras I fixed, right?" she asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah, but that's been a while ago." the palomino colored femme replied.

“Well, someone's been cutting the cables again, Linda. They leave the cameras powered up so a casual glance leaves you thinking they're still working. Same MO too; cut with what looks to be a bolt cutter."

“Shit!" Linda spat out. “You know, that's how they didn't see Trisha being whipped all to hell. That room had no working cameras in it."

“I'm on my way to Johnnie's office to get a list from him. I'll bet he sat up all night, checking each camera personally." Sarah conveyed to her co-worker. “If I ever catch someone fucking with my cameras, I'll kick the piss out of them!"

“OK, I'm on my way to get some sleep but if I see or hear something, I'll let you know."

“Sleep soundly," Sarah bid, giving Linda a hug before heading to Mr. Deckard's office.

Sarah made her way to Johnnie's work space, letting herself in because her RFID chip in her ID card allowed her full access to the entire facilities, including Mr. Waddell's private rooms.

“Good morning, John," she said to him, stepping around behind him and turning his head to give him a kiss.

“Mmm, you know how to start a day right," he retorted, standing up, turning to hug her warmly and plant a big, sloppy kiss on her.

“So, are you relaxed yet after eating?" she asked, massaging the tops of his shoulders. “Sit down, honey. Your shoulders are tense this morning."

“Well, yeah, I'm tense," he replied, taking his seat again so his lover could massage his shoulders. She could feel his neck muscles were just like steel cords, they were so tight.

“You have a list made up for me?" she asked, resorting to using her elbows on his neck.

“Yeah, it's right there." he pointed. “I checked each one myself, so they really don't work." His eyes were closed, enjoying her ministrations to his shoulders this morning.

“That's why you didn't come by to see me last night, huh? Tied up at work?" Sarah could feel a knot below one shoulder muscle and she was trying to work it out.

“Uh huh, I was checking them so you wouldn't have to do each one yourself." he replied. “Sweetheart, are you trying to put your elbow into my lung the hard way?"

“Oh, I'm sorry if I was being too rough. Maybe you might let me cook dinner tonight to make up for it?" She bent over and gave him a kiss on the neck.

“Sure, Sarah. What time, then?"

“Does seven pm sound good?"

“Sure."

***

Trisha settled herself into the plush seat next to Mace, putting on her seatbelt for takeoff. This had to be the plushest aircraft that she had ever flown in and she didn't hesitate to let her lover know.

“Mace, this is just too much," she commented, looking at his amused expression. “How did you afford to do this?"

“We just made very, very careful choices in equipping this air frame for high-end charters."

“No, that's not what I meant!" she scolded. “I meant, how did you afford to buy a 707 to begin with?"

“Well, I did sell off my part of several businesses to buy this thing," he admitted. “It turned out she was in worse shape than we initially thought she was in so it took a number of years to bring her to an air worthy condition. That freight I brought over to the mainland paid for our trip, in case you wondered."

Trisha sat there, trying her best not to white knuckle when they took off. If there was one thing she didn't care for, it was flying. She then decided that since they were airborne and he had no place to hide, she could corner Mace and ask him something that had been burning in her mind.

“Mace, I need to know something." she stated. “I need to know exactly where I stand with you. Am I just your lover or am I something more to you?"

This caught the male quite by surprise. It took a few moments for him to respond to her query.

“You are the most important person in my life," he stated, leaning over to kiss her deeply. They locked lips, expressing their love for one another. “I felt lost when you went missing, Trish. I even asked my lead mechanic to look for you." He got a sheepish look on his face when he told her, “Brett helped to bust the ring that kidnapped you, by the way."

The news that she was 'Number One' in his life gave her goosebumps all over and it hit her at such an emotional level that she began crying uncontrollably.

“Trisha! Please don't cry like that!" he begged, trying to comfort her.

“Mace, I'm sorry, it's just ..." She began sobbing again, still trying to get her emotions under control.

“Trisha, I will never let you go, no matter what," he told her, kneeling in front of her and holding her firmly, lovingly. “You are so important to me, I can't begin to relate my feelings."

“I ... I hope you're sincere, Mace. Please don't break my heart." she asked, hoping he really was sincere. “Mace, sometimes I wonder if you're even for real, like helping these four chimerae that you've never met before. You offered up jobs for them within your companies. That in itself is just real hard for me to take in."

“Well, I talked with Chuck for a bit earlier and he wants to hire all four of them for non-performer positions at Blue Hawaii if they want the jobs." Mace pointed out. “He said that empty place on the main Promenade that was a HallmarkTM card store is the prime location for a Scottish pub and restaurant. He wants Tracy to bartend, since she's done that before. I think Joanne said she can cook so that would be the chef's position filled."

“Don't tell me he wants to serve Haggis, sweetie?" Trisha questioned, trying to keep from smiling.

“With Neeps, Tatties and Cock a leekie soup!" Mace then launched into his badly-accented Address To A Haggis ...

“_ Address To A Haggis _

_ by Robert Burns _

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o' the puddin-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy o' a grace

As lang's my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,

Your hurdies like a distant hill,

Your pin wad help to mend a mill

In time o' need,

While thro' your pores the dews distil

Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,

An' cut you up wi' ready sleight,

Trenching your gushing entrails bright,

Like ony ditch;

And then, O what a glorious sight,

Warm-reekin, rich!

Then, horn for horn,

they stretch an' strive:

Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,

Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve,

Are bent lyke drums;

Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,

"Bethankit!" 'hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout

Or olio that wad staw a sow,

Or fricassee wad mak her spew

Wi' perfect sconner,

Looks down wi' sneering, scornfu' view

On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him ower his trash,

As feckless as a wither'd rash,

His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash,

His nieve a nit;

Thro' bloody flood or field to dash,

O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis fed,

The trembling earth resounds his tread.

Clap in his walie nieve a blade,

He'll mak it whissle;

An' legs an' arms, an' heads will sned,

Like taps o' thrissle.

Ye Pow'rs wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o' fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware

That jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer,

Gie her a haggis!"

It took a while for all of them to quit laughing at his bad Scottish burr and when they did, Joanne asked a very pointed question.

“Excuse me, Mr. Alexander but what exactly is Haggis?"

“In the olden days, the preparation of a Haggis went something like this, ladies. They would take the liver, lungs & heart of a sheep and boil them. The cook would mince the meats and mix them with chopped onions, toasted oatmeal, salt, pepper, and spices. They would then take one properly cleaned sheep's stomach, stuff the cleaned stomach with the prepared contents, sew up the stomach while leaving enough room for expansion to avoid a large messy explosion and boil. Serve and eat."

“Eh Gads! That sounds nasty!" the vixen blurted out, making a very grimacing face. “I'm not sure I could cook that at all!"

“Well, today's Haggis is very good and it can even be found already put up in a synthetic casing, ready to heat up by steaming or boiling. I prefer steaming." Mace offered up.

“So, would I have to wear a kilt?" Tracy asked, still smiling from Mace's haggis address.

“No, you would most likely wear a kilted skirt in some tartan but knowing Chuck, he would have a Blue Hawaii tartan made just for the pub."

“Um, Mace, I know there's a Brandon tartan," Trisha offered up. “I don't know the colors off-hand but it was made just for Brandon Biotech."

“Hmm, I guess I'll have to bring that up with Chuck." Mace mused. “You know, there is something I want to know. Tracy, how was it you were awake in that crate?"

“Well, first they forced us into that crate with cattle prods, then they triggered the boxes. I was only signaled to sleep for an hour so whoever programmed that box screwed up."

“Tracy, when I made you sleep for that agent, did that box identify itself as a Brandon box?" Trisha asked, curious about something.

“You know, it did," the leopard appaloosa mused. “I did notice it had all Chinese writing on it, however. The label plainly stated in Mandarin that it was a product of Xiang Industries, Beijing, China and it was made in August, 2011."

“That sounds kinda fishy," Trisha stated, taking the devices out of a bag that she had 'borrowed' from one of Mace's employees. All of the boxes in her possession suspiciously bore the same exact serial number and build date. Needing to find out more about these little goodies, she reinstalled the batteries and unlocked all four. Setting them to code 1018, the RFID transmitter test, she triggered each one over her head, noting that the boxes all gave her ident number 12FAI28598857 with a proper MD5 checksum.

“Mace, is there a way for me to make a call to Brandon Tech Support?" she asked, wanting to see this one through to the end.

“Sure, hon. Use the phone in the armrest." He flipped the armrest up to show her a cordless handset.

Trisha wasted no time in placing a call to Brandon tech support on the chimera-only line, getting a friendly voice on the other end. She put the call on speakerphone so the others could hear the conversation.

“Brandon Biotech tech support, This is Abby Collins, operator #813 speaking. Please state your name and CID for me."

“Hello, Abby. This is Patricia Pollard, CID number 339564ri7f-87H-a."

“Hello Trisha, what can I do for you today? It looks like your got that last firmware patch for your RFID transmitter and internal clock that I sent you about a year ago."

“Listen, Abby, I work for Chuck Waddell at Blue Hawaii as a tamer now. I have an errant control box that's turned up and I think a guest might have brought their chimera with them and lost his box."

“Yeah, OK, take the box and try 1018 so it will give you its ident number."

“Already ahead of you, Abby. Ident is one two foxtrot alpha indigo two eight five niner eight eight five seven."

“OK, Trisha, our records say it was sold to Steven Chin of Extreme Entertainment LLC of Brisbane, Australia. The shipping address for the box was 233 Peakes Street, North Ipswich, Queensland, Australia and the post code is 4305 if you want to send it back to him."

“Thanks, Abby. I owe you one." This made Trisha feel like she was getting onto something she didn't want to get into.

“I may have to take a vacation in Hawaii and take you up on that. Talk to you next update cycle." Abby stated with a cheery voice. “Bye, Trisha."

“I knew it," Trisha said sourly after she ended the call. “This Steven Chin has most likely taken a Brandon box and had the Chinese counterfeit it. There's no telling how many of these they made."

“I'll bet that bastard has ties to that factory, too." Millicent commented. “By the way, North Ipswich is about an hour from Brisbane and that Extreme Entertainment LLC is the outfit we were all looking for work from."

***

Sarah was splicing together the last of a set of video cables in training 147, being careful to get a good connection on them. This had been a long day but for the most part, a quiet one. Most of the action around here went on during the evening and night, allowing her access to most of the place during the day without any problems.

While she was tucking the cabling up out of reach, Tana came into the room with a red leather performer, a shapely female Golden Retriever on a leash. The lioness stopped, making the blindfolded performer bump into her from behind.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I thought this room was was unoccupied," Tana stated, looking somewhat confused.

“Well, I don't usually log into empty rooms when I'm working," Sarah replied, ducking down out of the drop-tile ceiling on her ladder far enough to see the trainer.

“That's OK, Sarah, I'll get another room." Tana used her implant to connect to the system and search out another empty working space. “I'll use training 141 instead since it's not booked right now."

She excused herself and quickly left the room, pushing the new 'employee' in front of her. Once the door was closed, Tana took the blindfold off the new performer. “You're really lucky, bitch. I was going to teach you what it means to not bend to the program. Maybe I'll set up another room tomorrow morning for you so you can learn what the whip really means. Now, let's go to training 141 and I'll teach you to hold a dildo in your snatch while I whip you and believe me, my little blond canid bitch, I'm gonna make every single strike count."

***

Sarah called John Deckard on her cell phone, trying to check her handiwork before she closed up the ceiling in the room she was working in.

“Security, Deckard speaking," he answered, trying to stifle a yawn at the same time.

“Hi, hon. I just finished splicing these cables back together in training 147 so I was wondering, could you check the cameras to see if they work? I'm sure it's 141 to 147, odd sequence rooms that I fixed."

“Yeah, Uh, OK, ... here we go ..." John got quiet on his end of the conversation while he clicked the keys on his computer.

“You're looking at my behind, aren't you?" she questioned, listening to the slight echo from the microphone in the room she occupied.

“Well, I would be lying if I said I wasn't," John confessed. “You look real sweet like that, too."

“I bet you would like this, then," she said, taking off her tool belt and hanging it off the top of her ladder. She then undid her Carhartt work shorts and slid them off, leaving only her black satin thong panties between her and the camera. Sarah was sure she could hear the camera zooming in and out while John tried to get a better look at her.

“May I see more of that beautiful body of yours?" he asked, anticipating her pranking him at this point. She didn't disappoint.

“Not until after dinner, Sweetie. Bye!" she said as she ended the call and put her shorts and tool belt back on. She was sure she could hear his groan from one floor away.

***

Linda was walking with Lisa Simmons towards Equipment (Mis)Management and it was clear the tigress was quite confused by the current situation. She had no leash attached to her collar and her wrists and ankles weren't hobbled.

“Ma'am, what's going on?" Lisa asked, still trying to figure this out.

“Well, you need to see Bill Waterman to have a problem with your bands fixed and Master asked me to see to it that you were escorted there."

“But ... no leash?"

“Naw, that's not needed, as far as I can see. You're following behind me just fine, aren't you?"

“Yes, Ma'am."

“OK then, let's see what Bill has in store for you."

The two females went into EM, waiting for Bill to make his appearance. He came out to the counter with a bag in his hands, handing Lisa a magnetic key and motioning to her wrist bands.

“I think you know what to do with that," he stated, watching her unlock her red leather and set the items on the counter. He took an empty bag from under the counter, putting the red leather in it and marking a code on it. He then spilled out the contents of the first bag, black bands with chrome studs on them.

“What the ...?" Lisa blurted out, looking at the tag on one of the bands. In that characteristic blocky architect style writing was the request for these bands to be made. They were for Lisa Simmons, Trainer.

“Well? What are you waiting for?" Bill asked, opening the bands one at a time for her. Lisa hesitantly put the collar on, fastening it slowly to hear the catch snick shut. Linda then put a disk-shaped tag on the front of her collar that had just her first name engraved on it.

“That tag indicates to the other staff members that you're just a student Trainer at the moment," the mare stated, helping her on with her other bands. It was clear that Lisa had been seriously stunned by this so Linda was trying to snap her out of it. “Earth to Lisa, come in Lisa," she said, snapping her fingers to get the tigress' attention.

“Who ... who's idea was it to make me a trainer?" she finally asked, looking at her bands again. She then tensed up when Linda put the magnetic key's lanyard around her neck.

“Mr. Waddell, Tana, Nadia and I all agreed that you have a very level head and you have a lot of maturity from working at the other brothels to back you up. You also seem to understand what goes on around here very well."

“But I don't think I can ..." Linda cut her off.

“You will do just fine," she said, helping Lisa put on her equipment harness and load it up with her necessary items. Lisa looked down at the two meter light whip that Linda had put on its carrier for her. “This whip is an extension of Master's will, just like you are now." Linda pointed out. “Speaking of that, you need to go introduce yourself to him this evening at seven. I trust he will treat you to a very nice dinner and he will no doubt show you a good time in bed without a chain, rope or cable in sight. That is unless you ask for chains, ropes or cables and at that point, Mr. Waddell will show you just how creative he can be."

The tigress was still in shock as Bill and Linda fitted her with a leather bustier and thong, the new working uniform of the day.

“I hope she's OK to see the boss this evening," Bill mused, helping Linda to lace the bustier properly down the sides.

“I do too," Linda retorted. “I would hate to have to tell Mr. Waddell that she's still down here in EM, frozen in her tracks."

“I ... I'll be fine, I think," Lisa finally stated in a not-too-convincing tone, still somewhat shocked by this turn of events. She thought back to that first day, when Trisha striped her to get her attention, then did her best to make things better for her afterward. Lisa knew that Trisha and Linda both were great role models for her so she decided that she had better figure out how to train with them.

“Ma'am, is it possible that I might train with you?" she asked.

“Lisa, call me Linda, please. You're a trainer now so you don't have to call me Ma'am. I'm pretty sure Trisha will let you call her by her first name, you may call the staff by their first names and lastly, you may call Master by his last name, Mr. Waddell or just Sir."

“Yes, Ma ... I mean OK, Linda."

“So, are you ready to have a little adjustment made to your base programming?"

“Wh ... what kind of an adjustment?" Lisa asked, looking slightly scared by that thought.

“Well, we need to have Ellen Wilson turn off your failsafe, honey. If she didn't do that, you wouldn't be able to strike another performer with a foam bat, let alone a whip."

“Uh, will it hurt?"

“No, it won't, Lisa. Just come with me to her office that's right inside the VR Department."

The two females left Equipment Management, headed around the corner to VR. Linda noticed the tigress lagging behind her so she stopped, waiting for Lisa to catch up.

“Listen, Lisa, you're my equal, in a sense. Walk beside me and hold your head up to show the performers that you're in charge now." Linda grabbed her hand, indicating to start walking again. “Don't ever let the performers see you being meek. Let them think you're the meanest trainer that ever walked the face of the earth." She thought for a moment then continued. “We'll have to work on a persona for you while we're at it."

***

Distracted by someone opening the door to the VR office, Ellen looked up from her work to see the tigress that She had been told about. Getting up to greet her, she put out her hand as she spoke.

“Hello, I'm Ellen Wilson. You must be Lisa Simmons."

“Uh, that's me," she replied hesitantly as she shook the technician's hand in return. “I was told you need to modify my base programming."

“That I do. You're a Golemtech Mark 12, aren't you?" Ellen asked, indicating for Lisa to take a seat in an exam chair.

“I'm a Mark 12B, Ellen." the tigress replied.

“OK, that does change things," she commented, bringing up the proper interface program. “Your wireless still functions, doesn't it?"

“Yeah, but it was tampered with when I came here. That Randall guy took away my permissions so I can't initiate an interface, only receive requests."

“That asshole," Ellen muttered as she sent an interface signal to the tigress. Lisa accepted it, allowing Ellen full processor admin rights. “Here, let me turn your permissions back on, then I want you to attempt to interface with this computer."

“OK, I'm in," Lisa stated, now connected to Ellen's diagnostic computer after her permissions were restored.

“Well, this should turn your failsafe off," the dark haired female mused, looking at Lisa's processor hierarchy and changing one entry from a one to a zero. “Well, I'll be ... A Mark 12B is almost exactly like a Brandon!"

“How is that?" Lisa asked. Linda had already spotted the layout that had startled Ellen.

“Well, honey, if your processor goes offline, you'll still be a fully capable chimera. Some neuro-processors can't be disconnected or turned off and not cause trouble for that chimera but you apparently have a full function organic brain besides your processor."

“Uh, you mean like the time my processor crashed at the factory? Until they noticed it, my only complaints were the blue square overlay I kept seeing in my visual cortex and the difficulty I was having learning things."

“You had a processor crash?" That kind of surprised the technician.

“Um, I was about four weeks out of the tank at that time when my processor just quit. It did a full crash, leaving me seeing the blue screen output overlay from the visual cortex interface and they couldn't reboot it, either." Lisa related. “I had to have surgery to have a new processor implanted so that's why I'm a Dash-B. There are three of us that I know of that had to have our processors changed out. Defective motherboards, I was told."

“Hmm, Can you send me a backup copy of your processor programming? It would be handy just in case something dire happened, since I don't have a Mark 12B base profile on hand." Ellen asked.

“Sure, Ellen. When I go to sleep tonight, I'll send you a copy."

“That would be great, honey. Tell me; can you interface with Blue Hawaii's network? I sent you the password when I turned off your failsafe."

“Oh Wow! Yeah, I can interface just fine." Lisa said as she connected up to the internal 'net. “Oh, I found my training and work schedule ... hmm, I had better get something nice to wear from Central Costuming so I can meet with Mr. Waddell in a little while." She sat motionless for just a moment before frowning. “My Hotmail inbox is completely full. Gotta clear that out soon."

Lisa excused herself and headed down to Central Costuming, hopefully to find a nice dress to wear for her employer this evening.

“Now I know why all of you thought she was such a good candidate," Ellen commented to Linda. “She seems very level headed and that processor of hers is on par with any Brandon."

***

Mace's stewardess Nancy Lin, a fox vixen, was serving the ones that weren't sleeping a snack. She was very unusually colored, a lime green with purple accents on the tips of the guard hairs in her fur.

“Excuse me, I don't want to seem rude but were you colored that way from the factory?" Trisha asked.

“Oh no, hon. I had this done at a shop near the airport in Hawaii." the vixen replied.

“Um, is that permanent?"

“No, it washes out with a special shampoo they sell. I change my colors about once a week, some times. Normally I'm solid white." the stewardess related to Trisha. This gave Trisha an idea.

“Could they make my sister Tracy look like me?"

The vixen looked at the leopard appaloosa napping two rows back.

“That would be no problems, hon. Would you like to talk with them? They'll still be open when we land, in case you're curious."

“Sure, I think I would. I need a trim at any rate since my mane and tail are getting kinda shaggy." She got up and went to sit by Tracy, waking her up.

“What is it, Patty?" the spotted one asked.

“Listen, Tracy, I want to pull a practical joke on Linda and a few others at Blue Hawaii. Here's what we need to do ..."

***

Tigre and Millicent were trying to stifle a laughing fit after the two equines brought them into the practical joke. Trisha had just gotten off the phone with Bill Waterman, who was needed to help pull this off. He had been recruited to bring matching clothes and equipment for them at the airport then get Chuck's permission to temporarily give Tracy and Millicent Tamer status.

“Nancy, this fur dye stuff will wash out, right?" Millicent asked, looking at Tigre's white tiger coloration. “I always wanted to try that coloration but I never had the guts to go through with it."

“I think that once you're done, nobody will be able to tell you two apart," the vixen commented. “And yes, it washes right out. I should know, since my base color is white."

“Do you think we will pass for doubles?" Bonny asked Nancy, seeings that Nancy was about 3 inches taller than her.

“I think we'll do just fine. I'm guessing there's a femme wolf at Blue Hawaii you have in mind to pair up with Joanne?" she asked Trisha.

“Yeah, Jenna Hutton should pass just fine as Joanne's Doppelgänger." the buckskin filly replied. “It's not like anyone will get a close look at us except Linda. She's going to be asked to watch the front desk while Rita runs an important errand for Chuck so this is what we're going to do to her ..."

***

Chuck was looking at the chimera's resume, noting where he had been working and seeing several letters from past employers praising his work. He looked up at the tall equine male, giving this some thought.

“It doesn't say here whether or not you're a Brandon design," he asked, noting that this didn't seem to bother the huge male one bit.

“No, I'm an Indiana Mil-Tec Model 17AW, Sir. My incept date was 22 November 2009." He replied. “Before you do some checking, I'm listed as gray by IMT but I've faded over the years to the white you see before you. Genetics, I suppose. The gray tipoff is the black skin under my coat. A true white would have pink skin, Sir."

“I see," Chuck mused, looking at his letters of recommendation. “You seem to come highly recommended, from what I can see. I also noted you have feet instead of hooves when you came in."

“You must have some Brandon 74's or 87's here. They have hooves, Sir."

“Yeah, I have three Brandon 87's and a fourth one on her way here that's going to tend bar in a new pub I'm setting up." Chuck related. “So, tell me a bit about yourself."

“As you have been told, I'm an IMT Model 17AW General Battle Equine, a licensed design based on a Brandon 74 Proof Of Concept design. I'm 6'2" tall, I weigh 277 pounds, my primary function was to carry a 580 pound, 3.55mm rotary electric fletchette minigun with an 18,000 round backpack magazine.

“I served in Desert Lockdown and four tours of Afghanistan. That last tour was where I received this," he stated, pushing his forelocks aside to show a very prominent scar on his forehead. “That bastard scarred me and damaged my RF unit when he threw a grenade at my position but I returned the favor and pinned his ass to the ceramic armor of his damaged tank with about a hundred fletchettes. Showed him who was the boss. At least the army was kind enough to replace my RF unit before I was auctioned off. I actually bid on myself and won. If a chimera managed to make it back intact, more or less, the combat pay was very good. I bid $130,000 AU and that was the high bid."

“Wow, Mr. Beck, I wish that I had one of your kind in my unit when I was serving in Somalia." Chuck commented. “We had the small fletchette rifles but they weren't very effective, having only 600 round magazines."

“You can call me either Henry or Hank. I prefer 'Stinger' but Hank will do. Mr. Beck sounds too formal, like a rank or something."

“OK, I'll call you Hank. You know, one of my 87's that's a tamer is a 87H. I'm kinda used to that mean streak that all the heavies have."

“An 87H? Hmm ... she can carry a maximum of 355 pounds, if I remember right. Brandon was hoping Remington-GE would make a lighter rotary gun for her type but MacMillan designed that .50 caliber long-range rifle that the 87H's eventually carried into battle." Hank smiled as he commented, “I knew an 87H in the military and she had a knack for showing her mean streak when it was necessary."

“I just want you to know, I'm very pro-chimera as far as being self-owning." Chuck handed him a handbook that outlined staff regulations and requirements. “I know you're self-owning so that makes quite a few that I have employed here. I'm hoping to set up a funding of sorts so those that want to, can move to a friendly state when they've become self-owning and they're ready to leave here."

“How does that work for your performers, I think that's what you called them?"

“Well, I purchase some of my performers and I have had a few come looking for work that were already self owning or had an existing mortgage. The ones that I purchase, I set up a mortgage for them, paying them a student wage of $8.97 an hour, based on an 8 hour work day, 40 hour work week. It might not sound like much but they make anywhere from $100 on up in tips each day. They also get free room and board.

“Their mortgages are usually in the $300,000 range, depending on what I paid for them. I then have them sign a five year work contract with negotiable extensions. That way, if a girl does real good, I still have her for a set minimum amount of time before I have to get a replacement for her. Some girls, like my Brandon 87's, I'll really miss them when they leave. By the way, Senior Black Collar performers are also allowed to go off site on their days off to go shopping and such, since by that time they realize this is a good place to be. You might be asked to shuttle them around from time to time. Not as a guard but more of a bodyguard or escort. You know, just making sure they're safe."

“Sir, you said at the start of the interview that I would be replacing another person that was being let go. What would my position and duties be?"

“What I've done is move a few people around because I want you to work under John Deckard. He's in charge of security video surveillance here. You would have a walking beat through the site, communicating with John directly. He would dispatch you via radio to a hot spot to quell things. There would be four of you each shift prowling the premises."

“And you are offering $22.00 USD per hour, discounted room accommodations, free meals and medical, right?"

“That's the gist of it, Hank. Are you interested?"

“Where do I sign, Sir?"

“Sign here, then go down to Equipment Management and see Bill Waterman. He will set you up with your equipment and you can start tomorrow at 0600."

Thank you, Sir," the huge equine replied as he signed his employment forms for the boss.

***

Trisha waited patiently while Tracy got dressed in a bustier and thong, just like the one she was wearing. Bill Waterman had to hurry over to the salon after he took care of some things at the resort so it was beginning to get kind of late. Once Tracy was ready, they both stepped out into the main waiting room of Color Bazaar Fur Salon.

“OK, Mace, Sweetie, which one of us is which?" they both asked at the same time. Mace for the most part, looked dumbfounded.

“Uh, both of you, turn around slowly," he asked, hoping to spot something that would give his lover away. Both had on fingerless shooter's gloves, covering the place where Trisha's ring would reside.

He got up, walking slowly around them, looking them over carefully. The bustiers they wore covered any pierced nipples, marking that identifier off the list. Manes trimmed alike. Tails trimmed alike. He kissed one, then the other. That was a bust.

“What did I say about driving the tank?"

“You said you would ...

Contact the local police ...

So they wouldn't have a ...

Cow about driving it on ...

The public roads." they replied, trading off as they recalled the exact words used.

“OK, good enough for me, anyway," he stated. “So, who is who?"

“We're not telling, just yet," they both replied at the same time. Mace just shook his head.

“That is just not fair ..." he mused, still shaking his head.