Commander Giovanni steepled her fingers and studied the Becketts with a very stern gaze. The husband and wife returned her stare with a hopeful one of their own. They had come back, after an extended leave of absence, asking to return to their former postings. They had come, unannounced into her office, toting bags of luggage, an unexplained weapon carved of wood, and what appeared to be an enormous albino tiger cub on a leash.

"We're really very sorry," Samantha told the commander, "our communications equipment was damaged or we would have sent word sooner."

Giovanni noticed that, beneath Sam's intricate gold braids, she was missing a few patches of hair. What had these people been up to? With a disapproving sigh, she began, "You realize that a Starfleet career is not a part-time arrangement? You have been gone for over six months with no message or report of your intentions."

"Commander," Al Beckett spoke with diplomatic sincerity, "believe me, if we could have contacted you, we would have."

The commander raised a critical eyebrow. She was a fair woman, but had had a difficult time explaining to Starfleet a month earlier that she needed to replace two officers that had seemingly vanished without a trace. The Becketts had put her in a very awkward position and now, out of nowhere, wanted their jobs back. "It would help," she pointed out, "if you had a good reason for losing touch with us for so long."

The Becketts exchanged a glance. A glance that spoke entire volumes of what they could not - or would not - say. "Well," Samantha began, "as you recall, I requested leave to accompany my father on a personal matter."

"Yes," Giovanni remembered something of it, "to search for your mother. Did you find her?"

"Um... no," Sam looked again to Al, having nothing else to add.

"I see," the commander paused, "and will you be leaving again to continue this search?"

"No," Sam shook her head.

"Ensigns," Giovanni emphasized their titles slightly, "where exactly have you been?"

The office fell silent. The three of them regarded each other in turn, waiting, almost daring, one another to answer or discard the question.

"We aren't really at liberty to say," Al hedged, "not for criminal reasons, we assure you... but... well..." he looked to his wife, desperate for the words he could not find.

"It's really very personal," Sam added, "please don't ask us to specify."

The commander was not satisfied, but did not force the issue. The animal they had brought stood up on its hind legs and peered over Giovanni's desk. She frowned.

"Sorry," Sam pulled him away, "we, uh, our quarters had been assigned to someone else... we didn't know where to take him."

"You'll be sending him on to a proper facility?" Giovanni assumed, "Starbase 37 has a highly regarded wildlife sanctuary."

"Oh, no," Sam hastened to answer, "he's our pet, a member of the family."

The commander looked at wit's end, and the door chime sounded. "Come in," she said wearily.

A dark-skinned man in a grey polo shirt came in, "Commander, I've brought next week's tournament schedule," he paused, smiling, "I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

"Anders Tudor, these are ensigns Al and Samantha Beckett."

"Good to meet you," he stepped over to shake both their hands and then knelt to admire the cub, "wonderful cat." He looked up, "You just get posted here?"

"Actually, they've just returned from extended leave," Giovanni explained, returning her attention to the Becketts, "and I might be able to contact Hansen from Starbase 78, I think they were doing some reassigning there-"

"You mean," Sam interrupted, "you won't let us come back?"

"Commander," Al entreated, "isn't there-"

"Hold on," Anders took the last empty seat, looking to Giovanni, "you don't need these officers?"

Giovanni gave Anders a pointed look. He returned it with a clever expression of his own. Giovanni liked Anders Tudor, he had proven to be an excellent athletic director. She doubted, in fact, that they could run the rec center without him. The only problem was, he used to be a Starfleet officer. He knew exactly how much he could get away with. And it tended to be a lot. He couldn't be shuffled aside or buffaloed, he knew the system too well to be fooled. And right now he knew that keeping the Becketts would be simpler in the long run, no matter how badly she wanted to send them on.

"You have something in mind?" she managed with only a slight scowl.

"Well, you remember I mentioned how inconvenient it is, when an athlete gets injured, sending them all the way to sickbay...?"

"Yes, and you have a professional trainer there to handle sports injuries."

"That's true, and he's been a wonder asset, but we don't have anyone on for the night shift and it would be great to have a small medical staff devoted entirely to the rec center. Dr. Kempton and I had a minor disagreement during last month's triathalon. I kept requesting more of his officers and that left him understaffed..." he raised his eyebrows hopefully.

"Mr. Tudor, even I agreed to assign the Becketts to that task, we don't have anyplace to put them. We have one family suite left and a handful of single-tenant quarters, neither of which will accommodate them and their... their..." she gestured to the enormous cat, "what is it?"

"It's called..." Sam paused, "a namni."

"Indeed," the commander looked back to Anders, "I just don't see how-"

"Hey!" Anders snapped his fingers, "We've got a court we can't use just down from my office," he turned to the Becketts to explain, "we had it put in for Bajoran wicket toss, but the ceiling turned out to be too low." He looked to Giovanni, "It's just sitting there empty. If they used that for their quarters then I could have them on call, I know it would make Kempton happy not to have me stealing his officers."

Giovanni looked at the three hopeful faces before her. Just as Anders knew, it would be simpler to agree. It would save a lengthy explanation to her superiors and keep the athletic director at bay until he wanted something else. She held up her hands in a gesture of agreement, "Very well-"

"Oh, thank you commander!" Sam smiled, knowing that keeping the namni would be a difficult chore elsewhere.

"Wonderful!" Anders approved, having won his way yet again, "You won't regret it."

"I'm sure," Giovanni replied dryly, "but mind you keep a close eye on that animal. I don't want to hear any complaints... not even one. Dismissed." She turned her attention to the duty roster, watching the happy trio from the corner of her eye. They bustled away, chattering like magpies. She wondered what Anders had done to get himself discharged from Starfleet. He had come to her with high praise and commendations from his former captain... in spite of whatever had happened. She let the mystery go and hoped the Becketts would not prove a further bother.

* * * * * "Thank you," Sam's eyes sparkled as she and Al followed their benefactor, "I don't know what we would have done."

"I'm the one that should thank you!" the athletic director countered, "You don't know how much this will help. I'll get Vester to come down and plan some modifications for your quarters. Are you sure you won't mind, living in the rec center? I'm afraid you'll never have a moment's peace... people are always getting sprains and bruises and wanting help."

Al adjusted his grip on their luggage, "Considering where we've been, this should be easy."

He gave them an appraising glance, "What... were you overseeing Olympic training at Deep Space Eleven? Or being battle field medics?"

"Something like that," Sam nodded, and changed the subject, "How long have you been here?"

"A few months," he grinned, "I was discharged from Starfleet, but they let me take this job." At their curious expressions he added, "It was one of those situations where someone had to be the fall guy... and it turned out to be me." "I understand," Samantha said, with such feeling that he nodded, seeing that she really did understand.

They proceeded to the main office area in the rec center, passing many officers enjoying themselves and dedicated athletes from distant worlds. The rec center had grown beyond their expectations, becoming the envy of major sports centers. Competitions were scheduled weekly, games and contests going on all the time. People stopped to stare at the Becketts, wondering at the creature they led behind them. The large cub ambled along, undisturbed by the attention.

Anders showed them his office and explained, "The empty court is down the hall here," he led the way, taking them into a large room with a very high ceiling.

Sam looked up, wondering how the ceiling could be too low for Bajoran wicket toss. But then, she didn't know anything about the game. There were stacks of sports equipment everywhere and no household furnishings.

"I can have it ready in two days," Anders promised. "In the meantime, do you mind staying in the trainer's room?"

"That'd be fine," Al laughed, impressed with their future housing. The court would be the biggest quarters he'd ever had! He couldn't believe the luxury!

The trainer's room, a sizeable office with a few low cots, seemed crowded once they put their things down and had a good look around. They were the only ones there.

"It's like this sometimes," Anders told them, "dead quiet for hours and then suddenly, eight people come limping in. Crazy." He glanced around, "I know it's not great, you'll probably have people coming in at all hours-"

"It's okay," Sam assured him, "after some of the places we've been, this is first rate."

A grey-haired man with a bushy mustache came in. "Hello," he stopped in the doorway, doing a double take and asking Anders, "something happen?"

"These people need a place to stay. You don't mind do you?"

"No," the man, in his early sixties, answered with a shrug, "good to meet you."

"I'm Samantha Beckett, and this my husband Al."

"And this little fellow?" he nodded to the cub.

"Granola," Sam said sheepishly, "but we call him Nolan."

"Ah." The older man nodded, his eyes twinkling a little.

"This," Anders introduced, "is our sports medicine expert, Dr. Rutager Peters. We call him Repete."

"Good to meet you sir," Al shook hands, "are you a Starfleet officer then?"

"No, just your run of the mill doctor."

"Hardly," Anders put in, "he spent ten years on Betazed as a foremost spokesman on sports safety and injury prevention."

"Oh, an easy task with the Betazoids," he dismissed, "because they can sense each others' intentions, their sports are rarely competitive. There's more focus on cooperation and the benefits of teamwork. Very peaceful."

"Until they go outdoors," Anders corrected.

"Yes, well, most of their problems come from being overconfident in dangerous settings in nature." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Lots of tumbles and scrapes from mountains and trees and rocks and streams... those Betazoids do love the outdoors."

Sam and Al smiled, liking Rutager Peters instantly. He smiled back, saying, "I'm sure you didn't come here to listen to an old boy ramble on about his job."

"Actually," Al grinned, "we've come to work with you."

"Ah!" he gave Anders a look of triumph, "Then you're the ones we've been waiting for!"

Anders laughed. He laughed almost as much as a child, frequently and sincerely. "This couldn't have worked out better! I'll go find Vester and get him to work on your new quarters."

* * * * * Vester Olsen's shoulders slumped in dismay. "Why do you do this to me?" he complained. "Every time I turn around, you want something else!"

"It's little more than redecorating," Anders soothed, "we just need to add the utilities and make it livable."

"And you think that's so easy?" the architect grumbled, "Do you want me to do it before or after adding that second viewing balcony above the diving pool?"

Ignoring the other man's sarcasm, Anders thought for moment, "Before," he decided.

Heaving a mighty sigh, Vester threw his hands in the air, "All right! I'll do it! But then I'm taking an entire day off! An entire day!!"

"Yes, you'll certainly deserve it," Anders placated.

Vester was a nervous, unhappy man, but an excellent architect. "See you first thing in the morning?"

"Whatever," Vester left the office.

Anders waited a few seconds before dissolving into laughter. Poor Vester. He looked up to see the Becketts in the doorway, "Come in," he greeted, "Peters give you the tour already?"

"It's quite impressive," Sam nodded, "you really do need more help here."

"You thought I was just doing that out of the goodness of my heart, eh? No, I really do need more people... but you two looked like you could use a little support."

"Giovanni wasn't very happy with us," Al agreed.

"No, she wasn't, but she's a good commander." Anders pushed a chair to each of them, "If you don't mind my asking, where have you two been?" He noticed the look that passed between them and added, "I understand it's none of my business, but I give you my word as a gentleman that I will tell no one else... and also that I won't ask again if you'd rather not say."

"Well..." Sam considered, "we ended up on a world that Starfleet has never heard of... and I..." she glanced at the floor, blushing slightly, "I was, for a short time, their ruler."

"Until she started a massive revolt," Al put in, "and we were part of a rebellion effort that nearly cost us our lives."

"And then," Sam went on, "there was a devastating plague, that Al found a cure for-"

"Only with a lot of help," he added modestly.

"And once a new government was instituted, we were free to go."

Anders looked at them for a long time, not entirely sure of what to make of it. "So," he asked at last, "that's where you got that cat from?"

"Yes."

"Damn," he grinned, "I was hoping I could have one too."

"No such luck," Samantha told him, "there's no way of getting there."

As nothing forged new friendships like trust, Anders offered a secret of his own, "Well, curious how I got to be the athletic director?"

"You applied for the position?" Al guessed.

"Of course... after I was discharged from Starfleet."

Sam's eyes widened, "What did you do?"

"Crashed a shuttle onto a pre-warp world and violated their law of execution by saving the life of a fellow officer."

"Oh," she saw him suddenly in a different light. She wondered how he could be so cheerful, losing his career and so many years of hard work.

"But," he leaned forward, "not many people know..."

"We won't speak of it," Al assured him.