Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

A/N: This one is dedicated to MUMMACASS. Here's your daily laugh, as I promised.

Justice on the Fly

Horatio looked up when he heard a tap on his open door. "Miss Stockburne. How can I help you?"

Senior computer tech Emmie Stockburne looked at her boss quizzically. "Hey, Sir. Did you order a…" She glanced at the crinkled invoice again. "Digital Fly Swatter? It's an electronic game that hooks up to the different computers, swats bugs, and keeps score of hits and kills for points?"

The Lieutenant sat back, never changing his expression. "I did."

"Sir, I don't get it. You made me get rid of all the Solitaire and Minesweeper games. Why the change?"

"Actually, there's a practical purpose in all this. First, it's a team building exercise that tests skill and coordination. Second, well, you know we've had a bug problem in the building."

Emmie shrugged. "I'm with you so far."

"But most importantly, we have another situation. Word came down from the chief that we need officers for decoy detail. There's a serial mugger in Miami who's preying on female tourists, and we have every female officer out there that we can spare as a decoy, even Calleigh and Natalia. But the chief said he needed one more body, and he's not budging an inch, even if a male officer has to go in drag. Even Rick isn't immune from this one. And since nobody wants to put on a dress and high heels, I decided that by the end of the week, whoever has the lowest score on this game gets to do mugger decoy for the month. Eric, Ryan, Frank, and even Rick are competing. Whichever one of them gets the lowest number of hits and kills gets to dress up for the line of duty. So you and Dave Benton get busy wiring up the game stations, because the competition starts tomorrow morning. You will give me everybody's scores on Friday afternoon. Any questions, Miss Stockburne?"

"You have four officers competing, but you ordered five stations. Why?"

"How long have you been maintaining Rick's computer? Any more questions?"

She closed her eyes. "Uh, yes Sir. Is it too late to put in for my vacation this week?"

Emmie carefully studied the mapping while Dave Benton did the necessary plugging in and installing of the digital fly swatters. "These things that look like tennis rackets are the wireless fly swatters that score one point for a swing, five points for a hit, and ten points for a kill. They're connected to the keyboard, so the keyboard has to be working" she noted. "Dave, it scares me to think I spent four years in Quantico for this."

"Yeah" Dave chuckled as he handed her another wire. "Nobody told me about this when I did IT trainig."

Emmie was inspecting Ryan Wolfe's electronic fly swatter station when IAB agent Rick Stetler stood at the doorway of the Trace Lab, hands on hips, eyebrows raised at her. "Miss Stockburne. You better not be giving Mr. Wolfe any advantages. I don't care if you HAVE been seeing him! If I have to play fair, so does he. In fact, if I find out you tampered with his computer, you'll both get investigated. Clear?"

Emmie looked at him dryly. "Don't worry, Sir. You need not lecture me on playing by the rules."

Any flying or crawling bug that wandered into the Miami-Dade Crime Lab was likely to meet a cruel fate. Tuesday morning, as Emmie and Dave worked cases, Frank Tripp and Delko shattered the silence as they furiously chased a hapless moth into the computer lab, swinging and swatting the walls, elbowing one another out of the way in a cutthroat competition to gain more points.

"Move, Tripp!" Delko shouted, swinging wildly at the prize that flew just out of his reach.

"You look cute in a dress, Delko!" Frank shot back as Delko nearly smacked the bald spot on his head by accident. Dave and Emmie covered their heads and cowered for a second before Emmie stood up, clenching her fists, and gathering her best Marine Corps voice.

"Out! You're gonna kill us!" she barked, walking over to the flailing critter, picking it up by one wing, and releasing it into the hallway. "It went that way! Go get it!" She stood at the doorway and pointed at the wandering prize. Delko and Frank then slipped past her and chased it down the hallway, electronic swatters raised like Samurai swords.

The computer tech fell back into her chair and looked skyward. "Dave, it's getting dangerous in here."

The phone chirped to let her know she had an internal call. She glanced at the caller ID.

R STETER—IAB

"No rest for the weary."

Emmie stepped into the IAB agent's office cautiously, carrying her tool case. "Hey, Sir. You said your keyboard's not working?"

Rick stood imposingly in front of her, eyes blazing, sweating and breathing hard as though he had just finished a sprint. He held his mangled keyboard in one hand, the mouse still connected and hanging on the floor. "Emmie, did you bring me a new keyboard like I asked you to?"

"Sorry Sir, but I have to find out what's wrong with the old one. If I can fix it myself, then I have to. Lieutenant Caine's orders."

"Well then try to fix it!" he snarled, thrusting it at her. "As long as my keyboard's broken I can't use that stupid game! And it's one I intend to win!"

Glaring at him, she took what was left of the keyboard from him and studied it. The CONTROL, ALT and DELETE buttons were missing. A quick scan of his work station showed that the black keytops were stuck upside down on his desk. She reached over to pick them up when she noticed fly carnage stuck to two of them. She wrinkled her nose. "Uh, Sir, with all due respect, weren't you supposed to hit those with the Digital Fly Swatter? That's twenty points you just killed right there."

"I had to get them before they flew out the door. What are you laughing at?"

"I, uh, don't think you get any points hitting them with your keyboard."

Rick glared at her, hands on hips. "But you're gonna go into that program of yours and add them in, aren't you? I hit them, didn't I? That's two flies right there. Twenty points."

Emmie stiffened up and looked right back at him. "Didn't you just get through telling me that if you have to play fair, so does everybody else?"

He huffed at her. "Well then can you fix my keyboard?"

The computer tech quickly snapped on some latex gloves and reattached the keys before placing it back on his desk. "Fixed."

"The least you can do is clean them!"

She looked skyward. "You want a lot, don't you, Sir?" She quickly spritzed the freshly repaired keyboard with cleaner and wiped the keys. "Finished. See you later." With that she left.

With that emergency resolved, Emmie then stepped back into the computer lab and brought up the program to check the current score. Dave raised his eyebrows as he watched her lean her head on her hand and laugh uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?"

"When Rick swatted those flies with his keyboard, he ended up resetting his program. How do we tell him he just wiped out all his points?"

The bearded computer tech grinned. "You're the senior tech. You can tell him."

Monday Morning. Horatio stood over Emmie and discussed a case when both of them heard a loud clomping down the hallway, accompanied by snickers, wolf whistles, drowned out by a torrent of obscenities. Within seconds Emmie and Horatio found themselves face-to-face with what could only be described as a tall, bony, hairy version of Yelina, wearing a shoulder-length black, curly wig, blouse, miniskirt, fishnet stockings and pumps while sporting a white oversize purse. Horatio smiled while Emmie quickly grabbed a Kleenex and turned her head away to politely cover her laughter. Dave pretended to look for something while hiding his laughter.

"I suppose I should thank Emmie for the shoes" Rick growled, his bony ankles straining to keep his balance. "Something funny, Benton?"

Emmie clenched her fists and breathed deeply to control her laughter. "That's okay, Sir. I'm the only female in the lab with feet as big as yours" she said weakly.

"But you can expect a full investigation when I get back!"

The Lieutenant then stood face to face with the IAB agent, hands on hips. "You know why you lost, Rick."

Rick lowered his head and narrowed his eyes at his nemesis, the black curls almost covering his face. "You have something you want to say to me?"

The Lieutenant cocked his head at his nemesis. "As a matter of fact I do. Next time shave your legs before you put on fishnets, Rick. See you in a month."