Work Text:
“Gooshie, fire up the Imaging Chamber and center me on Sam!” Admiral Al Calavicci ordered as he walked briskly into Control.
“Right away Admiral,” replied the head programmer, handing Al a handlink as he passed by.
Al stopped just before he got to the Imaging Chamber. He looked back and up at the ball of swirling blue energy located above the central control panel. “Ziggy, stop recording once I make contact with Doctor Beckett.” He glanced over at pulse communications technician Tina and winked. With a spring in his step, the Admiral disappeared through the door. As it was sliding closed, Gooshie and Tina could hear Al say, “Ziggy, lock the Imaging Chamber door.
Tina looked at Gooshie. “Oh lord,” she muttered under her breath.
Gooshie suddenly became very busy with something on the control panel.
Two and a half hours later, Al emerged, disheveled, tie askew, eyes heavily lidded and glazed with spent lust. He gave Tina a shit eating grin and handed Gooshie the handlink.
Tina knew better than to ask, but couldn’t help herself. “Is Sam good in the leap?”
The Admiral leered at her. “Good enough ta eat, little darlin’.” He walked out of Control, smoothing down his rumpled jacket and adjusting his trousers.
Tina sighed and shook her head. Gooshie blushed and became even more intent on the control panel.
“Do ya want ta call it in, or do ya want me to?” Tina asked Gooshie after the Admiral was gone.
Gooshie looked up at Ziggy. “This is the third time this week and it’s only Thursday. You call, Tina. I just can’t.”
Tina pressed her comm link. “Bill, can ya come ta Control? We need janitorial service in the Imaging Chamber.”
In the janitor’s office, Bill sighed. He keyed his comm from his desk chair. “Yes Ma’am. I’ll be up with my broom and trash barrel momentarily.” Saying a silent prayer to the janitorial gods, he reached for said items. The next voice he heard was Gooshie’s.
“Uh, forget the broom and trash barrel. Bring a mop and bucket.”
Bill sighed again and rolled his eyes. “Yes sir, be right up.” Grabbing his mop and bucket, he left his office muttering, “Third time this week and it’s only Thursday.” He trudged toward the elevator.
Out in the corridors the sound of Ziggy’s giggles echoed softly.