The USS Virgo was in standard orbit of Slart II, a lush, emerald-green M-Class planet in a stellar system that was relatively isolated in this part of the Gamma Quadrant. The inhabitants, the "Slartan" were an advanced race, rating between H and I on the Cultural Richter Scale.
After the Virgo had made contact with them and Captain Maruu and Slartan President Lindo Tinwelint exchanged formal introductions, the Slartan government graciously offered the tired Federation crew the opportunity to come down for shore leave. The wide Slartan savannas and deep woods and rolling hills were opened to their new Federation friends to enjoy for as long as they liked.
All that the Slartans asked from the Virgo crew was the most basic of requests: not to cause any trouble. Captain Maruu had readily agreed to the Slartan terms. Starfleet personnel, and his crew in particular, he thought proudly, were well-trained and disciplined. There would be no problems...
"Now Francesca, repeat after me," said Benton emphatically, enunciating each word precisely, "I, Will, Not, Let, Spot, Out, Of, This, Cabin."
Francesca stood next to Spot's cage and pouted. "It wasn't my fault last time," she fussed. "How was I supposed to know he'd get into the replicator system and eat all of the synthetic chicken..."
Benton waited patiently.
"Oh c'mon. He's a tribble! He's supposed to eat a lot," argued Francesca.
Spot chirped in agreement.
"ALL the chicken on the ship?" said Benton.
"So he got excited!"
"So did the technician in charge of the replicator systems, and I didn't notice either of you carrying him to sickbay."
"Ensign Bort weighs 300 pounds, and besides, all he did was faint," complained Francesca. Then she noticed that Benton was still waiting for her to repeat after him, so she tried one last tack, "But he looked so sad cooped up in here." That didn't work either. Finally she gave in and said grumpily, "Fine. 'I will not let Spot out of this cabin.' Happy?"
Spot grumbled very unhappily from inside his enclosure.
"Thank you kindly, Francesca," said Benton. He drew her aside and continued in a more confidential tone of voice so that Spot wouldn't overhear. "It's just that Spot's been acting very strangely as of late and I'm quite worried about him; I'd hate to have to leave him alone. I appreciate your looking after him while I'm on the away mission. The captain wants the planet checked out before he sends any shore leave parties down."
"Well, you're welcome, Benton," said Francesca, somewhat mollified. "You know I'm always happy to help you."
Benton nodded in acknowledgment. He turned to Spot and said in a stern voice, "And as for you, don't be giving Ensign Milano any trouble. Understand?"
Spot burped.
"Don't take that tone with me, mister. If you comported yourself with more maturity, I could let you out of here once in a while."
Spot twittered, but Benton cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We'll discuss this when I get back." As Benton headed for the door, he said to Francesca over his shoulder, "Try and have a good day."
"Sure," said Francesca with a little sigh. The door to Benton's cabin slid shut leaving her alone inside with Spot. She walked over to the cage and popped the top. Spot suctioned onto the side of his enclosure and quickly made his way up and out onto the table top. Francesca watched as Spot tipped himself off the table and landed on the floor. He immediately began rolling himself toward the cabin door, and with a hairy thud, heaved himself against it. Spot whined plaintively. Again and again he rolled back a few inches then forward and bumped into the door.
"No, Spot!" said Francesca. "You heard what Benton said. You have to stay here!"
Spot ignored her. He kept bumping himself into the door, over and over again. Francesca cringed with every squishy thud.
"Cut it out, Spot."
Thud.
"I'll get in trouble if I let you out."
Thud.
Francesca couldn't take it any longer. She said, "All right. I'll make you a deal. I'll let you out of the cabin, but I'M COMING ALONG! That way I can be sure you don't cause any mischief. Deal?"
Thud.
"Take it or leave it, you little hairball!" said Francesca. She was beginning to lose her patience with this bantam blackmailer.
Spot stopped banging himself against the door and considered. He looked at Francesca. She was standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips tapping her foot on the floor, which Spot had come to recognize as meaning that she meant business. After a moment, Spot chirped agreeably.
"Fine. Here you go," said Francesca as she pressed the stud that opened the door. Spot immediately began inching his way out into the corridor. "Now remember, you have to stick with me!" she called after the retreating tribble. She was already through the door when she remembered she had left her stuff in Benton's cabin. "Hang on a second Spot. I have to get my tricorder." Francesca dashed back into the room and retrieved the device from where she had left it on Benton's desk.
When she stepped back out into the corridor, Spot was nowhere to be seen. "Oh rats! He did it to me again!" cried Francesca with a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach. "Benton's gonna kill me."
Benton quickly made his way up to the security section by the most efficient route. The door slid open in front of him revealing his able assistant, Sitto Lan, sitting at the main desk. There were only a few T'rais and Jorail, a Vorta, in the brig at the moment, but the months in the brig had made them calmer, so Sitto was borderline dozing in his chair.
"Good morning, Sitto," said Benton as he walked in. "Ready? The sooner we verify the planet is safe, the sooner the captain can start sending shore parties down."
"Huh...? Wha...?" Sitto shook his head trying to clear out the cobwebs. By the time Sitto had woken up, Benton had gathered up the field equipment he needed for the away mission and started out of the security office on his way to the transporter room. "Coming?" he said over his shoulder.
Sitto scooped up his own equipment and hurried after Benton. Minutes later, the two men strode into the transporter room. Sitto was still a few steps behind Benton, trying to stuff the last of his gear into his uniform's pouches. Benton stepped up onto the transporter pad, and only then did Sitto finally catch up with him. As soon as Benton saw that Sitto was in position, he turned his attention to the transporter tech. "Energize."
From Benton's point of view, the interior of the Virgo's transporter room rapidly dissolved into a cascade pattern of silvery sparkles and finally faded from view altogether. He did not notice, nor did anyone else in the room, the small, furry interloper that rolled itself into the transporter pad at the very last second and dissolved along with the "official" landing party.