Lieutenant, j.g., Tim O’Neil chewed his thumbnail nervously before he caught himself and said, “Admiral Noyce, I don’t know…” The whole idea was a little ludicrous to him, even if he did understand where Noyce was coming from. Noyce slapped his arm around Tim’s shoulder in a chummy co-conspirator-in-crime kind of way that rankled Tim’s ordinarily staunch veracity for telling the truth. “Come on, Tim. No one will even suspect  you,” Noyce stated firmly with a grin. “Don’t make me make it an order.” O’Neil was just the person  aboard seaQuest that he needed – plain and innocuous, and no one would ever even begin to suspect that Tim O’Neil was even capable of such an act!

Tim thought quickly. His job or his friends? Jeez…

The middle of a submarine tour was always monotonous in the extreme, when everything became mundane and usual, repetitive, even, when the most basic duty became so boring that one would do absolutely anything to get off the stupid sub and into the real world for a change!

He decided then that he would do what the Admiral was asking, but only because he would remain anonymous, and thus safe from prosecution.   He could blame it all on Admiral William Noyce. “All right, what do I need to do?” Tim finally asked.

For some reason, dread was beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

Captain Nathan Bridger awoke and stretched. Normally a sound sleeper, he had not been sleeping quite so soundly as of late, partially due to the  auburn-haired beauty and sensual charms of Dr. Kristin Westphalen. Their relationship had only recently progressed to include this level of sexual intimacy which had threatened to eat them both alive when it had been sexual tension. Nathan’s bed had also suddenly seemed a lot warmer, but also a lot more uncomfortable. There was obviously a reason why the Navy had created double bunks, and he definitely wanted one about now!

“Go back to sleep, Nathan,” Kristin muttered drowsily, trailing her fingertips all over his chest. “Why’re you awake anyway?” she added, rising up on her elbow.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “I’m a big boy, Doctor. I think I can take care of it myself,” he added with a wink.

“Men,” Kristin grumbled, flopping down on her belly and covering her head with the pillow clamped down over her ears. Shaking his head and grinning, Nathan got out of bed and headed in the direction of the head. His ears were rewarded with a muffled shriek from Kristin, who abandoned the pillow to dive to the floor in search of the blanket that had been flung by the wayside during their last lovemaking. “Oh damn but it’s bloody cold!” she moaned, pulling the blanket up over her head.

He had to chuckle in amusement. The many eccentricities which his lover was suddenly fond of displaying were rather humorous – to him at least! Nathan shut the door behind him, and lifted the toilet lid.

Kristin uncovered her head, accounting to the fact that there was no air beneath her entrapments, and no obvious way to get any. Nathan’s howl from the head made her spring upright, holding the blanket up to cover her more interesting  assets. “What the hell?” she asked as she reached the door. “Nathan? What on earth?” When her questions only met with a barrage of muffled swearing, she called again, “Did you drop the soap on your toe again?”

“No,” Nathan growled, sticking his head out the door. “I need a mop. Some smart ass decided it might be funny to stretch saran wrap over my toilet seat.” The door slammed shut in Kristin’s face as she began to chuckle. “It is not funny!” he yelled from within.

Kristin merely giggled and tied the blanket around her bosom towel-fashion, going to the broom closet for a mop.

“Why did you do it, Kris?” Nathan inquired in a quiet tone that proved how truly angry he was. He came out of the bathroom with his lips set in a thin line.

“Very funny, Nathan,” Kristin said, turning and handing him the mop. “Me? You really think I did this? You honestly think I could do such a cruel thing to you, of all people? Krieg maybe, but not you, Nathan!” Hurling the mop his way, seeing the look on his face, she muttered, “I am so out of here. If we don’t have that level of trust between us, I don’t think we should be having sex, or even a relationship.” She dressed hurriedly in the jumpsuit she had abandoned on the floor earlier, and tugged on her shoes.

“Where are you going?” Nathan demanded.

Rising from the floor and appraising him with an icy glare, she said, “My quarters, not that it’s any of your business, Captain.” With that, she stalked out of the Captain’s quarters.

Nathan didn’t even try to stop her, but only grew more and more infuriated with each passing moment. Whoever had saran-wrapped his toilet seat had a death wish. And Nathan Bridger was bound and determined come hell or high water to find out who it was.

Lieutenant Commander Katherine Hitchcock came onto the bridge for her shift. After checking in with Captain Bridger, she picked up her morning technical reports and sauntered over to her station. She was so immersed in her reports that she simply sat down, not seeing the whoopee cushion that was sitting on the seat. Her face burned bright red when the horrible noise erupted from beneath her.

“Strike number two,” Nathan muttered to himself as the rest of the bridge almost died laughing. “And I’m willing to bet that there’s no video coverage of it on the security cameras, either.”

Hitchcock lifted the whoopee cushion from her seat with the very tips of her fingernails with a look of immense distaste on her face as she dropped it onto the floor.

Nathan walked over and patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Commander – mine was a plastic-wrapped toilet seat,” he said.

She cocked an eyebrow and muttered, “Well, at least the joker didn’t deep-fry my underwear.” At Nathan’s puzzled look, Katie blushed and said, “My crazy older sister. ‘Nuff said.”

Bridger nodded. He recalled having heard some of the freakish horror stories of Hitchcock’s older sister from Krieg as much as from Katie herself! “I’ve got Lucas looking for the perpetrator, though I’m beginning to wonder if we can trust him. Why don’t you go in behind him and look at the deleted footage?” he suggested.

“You’ve got it,” Katie said with a feral grin. “Anyone who has the balls to sit me on a whoopee cushion deserves to have me playing catch with those self-same balls.”

Nobody noticed Tim O’Neil sitting at his station, blanched until he was as white as a ghost. A few minutes later, he left the bridge to make an important call

Hitchcock called Bridger over only a minute after O’Neil had left. “I’ve run a retrieving trace scan on the deleted surveillance video footage, Captain,” she whispered.

“Who?” he demanded.

“O’Neil.”

“You’re joking!” he accused.

“Not hardly.”

“I can’t continue with this!” O’Neil told Noyce firmly. “I’ve done two hits and  they haven’t helped morale. In fact, they’ve just made morale worse.”

“All right – no more. I doubt that Lieutenant Krieg would have liked a spider-filled bed, anyway,” Noyce said over the vid-link.

“To tell the whole truth, I really didn’t want to do that one, anyway,” O’Neil cringed.

“Just do not confess unless it is under duress,” Noyce ordered sternly

“Yessir.” There was a loud thumping on O’Neil’s door, so he cut off the Admiral, then opened the door. Bridger and a livid Hitchcock were waiting for him.

“Why, Tim?” Katie demanded.

“Oh man...” Tim cringed, then decided that this really was duress. “Well, it was Admiral Noyce, sirs. He was trying to liven up the tour and came up with a kind of ‘April’s Fool in June’ thing… He ordered me to do it, or I’d lose my job,” O’Neil babbled nervously.

“I should have known,” Bridger said in exasperation, rolling his eyes. “I’ll kill Bill if you’ll handle Tim, Katie,” he aid with a grin.

With an absolutely evil grin, Hitchcock stepped forward and caught Tim in a headlock. “First thing’s first, Lieutenant – teach me how to plastic wrap a toilet seat. Ben’s in need of a little potty training.”

“Got a hair-drier?” Tim shot back with a grin as she drug him away.

“Can I sit here?” Nathan asked, holding his tray like a schoolboy.

“It’s your boat, Captain,” Kristin replied cooly.

“Call me Nathan,” he ordered kindly, sitting down. “You’ve seen me naked, so you might as well.”

“Oh, please,” Kristin scoffed. “What do you need?”

“I wanted to let you know that we apprehended our practical joker. It was Tim O’Neil,” Nathan said, taking a bite of his food

“O’Neil? You’ve got to be joking! You expect me to believe that?” Westphalen snorted.

“Believe it or not, Admiral Noyce ordered him to do it. So, I’ve verbally massacred Bill for it, and I’m letting Hitchcock mete out O’Neil’s punishment. They’ve both passed on humble apologies,” he informed her sweetly. “So, can we try ‘us’ again?”

Kristin hesitated for a moment, thinking it over, before finally sighing and   saying, “Sure, what the hell. But this time, let’s go more slowly. No getting naked again until we’ve gotten to know each other a bit better. AND I get to kill Noyce if the situation arises again.”

“Done – and how!” Nathan agreed, kissing Kristin’s outstretched hand.

“Ummm… Nathan, there’s something I have to tell you…“ Kristin mumbled, blushing.

“What?”

“I’m the one who short-sheeted your bed.”