"What does this thing do?" Eeris asked, pointing to a machine with a darkened screen. It looked like a digital clock.

She and Miro were on board the Challenger, having dropped off his collection of odd ends at some sort of pawning store. It had been a mix-and-match of various engine parts and other objects Eeris had never seen in her life. They'd returned to his ship with a few hundred bars of latinum. It was, according to Miro, one of his more successful endeavors, and it had left him in such a good mood that he seemed to have forgotten she'd asked about Kira Nerys or the metamorph, Odo.

Eeris still wondered about Kira Nerys and Odo. Especially Kira Nerys. Now that she knew the first Figurehead had once been a different woman, a woman Miro was loathe to tell her about, she was only more tempted to learn. But she was content to leave Miro alone about it for now. After all, he was her only means of passage through the galaxy. If he decided he didn't want her on board, then she had nowhere else to go.

Miro's attention was occupied with the vast array of instruments lined up just under the viewscreen of the cockpit. There was barely enough space for them both to fit inside, though Eeris hoped beyond hope that they could fit a third person when the time came.

"Oh, that thing blares an alarm when the fuel's low," Miro answered her from the pilot's seat as he began the prelaunch inspection. "It used to do a countdown when we had a couple of hours left, but it broke down a few weeks ago and I don't have enough latinum to get it fixed. You hear it beep, and you get in the ejection pod right away, because we won't have time to get anywhere before the air recycling unit gives out."

Eeris backed slowly away from the device. "Thanks for the warning."

Miro grinned. "My pleasure kid. Alright, that should do it…" He did a final check and then flipped a switch. The engine roared to life behind them. "Take a seat, kid, because you're on a roller coaster now! I call it the Challenger Express."

Eeris settled into the only other chair, which happened to be the copilot's seat. "Is this alright?"

"Perfect! Wouldn't want to deprive you of a front-window view, would we? Alright, I'm gonna get us clearance…Challenger to Deep Space Nine, am I cleared to disembark?"

"You're clear, Challenger. Have a safe voyage."

Miro laughed. "I'll take that under advisement! Challenger out." He smiled at Eeris. "Alright, here we go. Releasing docking clamps…thrusters engaged…now let me just navigate us around these darn docking pylons, and…"

Eeris clutched her seat as she watched the view out the viewscreen. Miro seemed to be a good pilot so far—he was avoiding hitting the station with ease—but they still swung a little too close to the nearest pylon for comfort. And then, without warning, he shot them up and over the station and into the space beyond.

"Bajor's down there," Miro said offhandedly, "if you want a peek."

"I'm good," Eeris said, but she looked out the side window anyway. There was a speck of light in the distance, just a little brighter than the surrounding stars. "Is that it?"

"That little speck out there? Yup. We're way too far away to see it any bigger. It used to be even farther from here, but the wormhole sent a huge shockwave this way when it closed. Blew the station a couple hundred miles closer, so Bajor looks like a little star from here now. Ironic, considering its darkness." Miro kept his focus on the way ahead. "If you're ready, I'll bring us toward Cardassian space."

Eeris took a deep breath. She took one last glance at Bajor. And she smiled.

"I'm ready," she said.

He grinned. "Then here we go. Plotting a course for the Cardassian demilitarized zone. I'd go farther into their space—we can expect the attention of a few battle cruisers if we head that way—but it's not just me now. I figure I better fly a little nicer than I usually would."

"Thanks," Eeris said.

"My pleasure," Miro said. "You need anything—besides, of course, a trip to the Gamma Quadrant—you just let me know. I like you, kid, I don't want you in danger."

Eeris smiled. Watching the view out the side window, she spotted a tiny speck that looked a little incongruous against the stars beyond. "What's that?" she asked, pointing.

Miro leaned over to check. "Looks like a ship."

"Is it a problem?" Eeris asked.

"I don't know yet," Miro said. "Hold on, let me get a fix on its position. I wanna know where it's coming from." He pressed a few buttons and then peered at the readouts. "What the…?"

"What's wrong?" Eeris asked.

"Looks like it's coming from the—No, that can't be right." Miro grimaced and pressed the same buttons again. The computer beeped at him and he slapped it with his palm. "Impossible! No one comes from the Gamma Quadrant!"

Eeris's heart jumped into her throat. "It's coming from the Gamma Quadrant?"

"Looks like it," Miro said. "Well, no big deal, we'll just give it a wide berth. It's probably coming to the station. Come on, let me get us outta here." As he swung the ship wide, the stars panned across the viewscreen. "That just doesn't make sense. The last time a ship crossed the quadrant boundary was…" He looked up at Eeris, his eyes filled with worry. "…nine hundred years ago."

"That's about the same time Kira Nerys went astray," Eeris said.

"About the same time as the Dominion War ended, too," Miro nodded. "Kid, I don't know what this ship wants, but I'll be damned if I'll let it get close to us."

"What are you going to do about it?" Eeris asked.

"See what they're doing?" Miro aligned the Challenger so that the mystery ship appeared in the center of the viewscreen. He tapped the glass with his finger, leaning closer to Eeris as he drew their path. "They're gonna swing wide around us and head for the station. All I need to do is not give 'em trouble. In fact, I can put a few extra parsecs in between us for good measure." He frowned, eyes back on his instruments. "What the…?"

"Sounds like they're not doing what you expect them to do," Eeris said.

"Not in the least," Miro said. He shook his head. "They just veered right. Straight toward us."

"What could they want with us?" Eeris asked.

"Beats me," Miro said. "I don't know anyone from the Gamma Quadrant. I'm not a welcoming committee, and neither are you. I don't like this, kid. I'm steering clear."

The ship was drawing closer. It veered toward them across the viewscreen.

"They're following us," Eeris said.

Miro frowned. "This is highly irregular. If I'd thought I'd run into Gamma Quadrant trouble before we left, I would never have taken you on board."

"Well, there's no time for what-ifs now," Eeris said. "I'm on board, and we're just going to have to figure the situation out as it is."

"That's my specialty." Miro grinned. "Alright, I'm gonna call 'em. See what they want." He pressed a button. "This is the Challenger calling unidentified Gamma Quadrant vessel. What is your business in the Alpha Quadrant?"

"This is the Rintoqua," a gruff, guttural voice replied. "I was wondering if I might ask for directions."

That voice. Eeris knew that voice. But where—

Miro's expression hardened in anger, his jaw set. "You want directions, Founder, you're going to have to ask Deep Space Nine. High time you revisited your old station, don't you think?"

Eeris's eyes became the size of dinner plates. She knew whose voice that was. She'd only heard it once, and that had been in the dreamlike haze of her orb vision, but there was no mistaking it.

"Odo?" she gasped. "Is that you?"

A pause. "Who am I speaking to?"

Miro shot her an annoyed glance, but the words flew out of Eeris's mouth before she could stop them. "Kira Eeris, descendant of the first Figurehead, Kira Nerys! I'm escaping Bajor and I—"

"Kira Eeris!" Miro yelled, slamming a fist into the dashboard. "Damn it! I should have known!"

"You're Kira's descendant?" Odo asked.

"Stay clear away from her, Founder," Miro growled into the comm. "She's none of your concern! And you have no right to be concerned about a descendant of Kira Nerys, not after what you did!"

"I—I'm sorry, I don't—" Odo faltered. "Let me start over. But can I speak to Eeris for a moment?"

"Fine!" Miro snapped. "I'll do my best to keep my mouth shut! But don't you dare come one parsec closer, Founder, or I'll open fire before you can say Great Link!"

Eeris held up her hands. "Miro, stop."

"And I'll talk to you later," Miro said, pointing a finger at her. "Descendant of Kira…damn it, what was I thinking, not even asking who you were?"

"Look, I don't like her any more than you do. I hate her. I got out of there as soon as I could."

Miro glared at her. "You don't even know her, kid!"

"And proud of it!" Eeris said. She gestured back at the viewscreen. "Now, do you know this man?"

"You bet I know him!" Miro said. "That's Odo you're talking to, sure enough!"

Eeris sighed. "Do you want to find out what he wants with us or not?"

"I'd rather send him straight back to that Great Link of his!"

Eeris still didn't have any clear idea of what a Founder was or what the Great Link was, but she figured she could find those answers soon enough. "Miro, how long is the journey here from the Gamma Quadrant, without the benefit of the wormhole?"

Odo provided the answer. "About seventy years."

"Miro," Eeris pleaded, "he's spent seventy years in space, away from this 'Great Link' you keep talking about, on the journey here. I don't know why he's back, but he is. Can't we at least listen to what he has to say?"

"Fine!" Miro swiveled his chair away from the comm system. "But I won't give him the satisfaction of speaking to my face."

"Can you put him on the screen?" Eeris asked.

Miro reached behind himself and flipped a switch. The man from Eeris's vision—the one in the Bajoran hills—appeared on the screen. In life, his face was just as blank, just as frightening. There was a light in his wide, deep-set, blue eyes that spoke volumes—about what, Eeris had no idea.

"Eeris? You…" He faltered, looked down, and then back up again. "I…I'm not sure how to begin. Captain Sisko didn't give me any instructions beyond this point."

"Who's Captain Sisko?" Eeris asked.

"I'm…sorry," Odo said. "He's…I suppose you know him as the Emissary."

"Also called Benjamin?" Eeris asked.

Odo leaned closer. "Who called him Benjamin? Was it Dax?"

A sharp, humorless laugh from Miro. "I'm Dax, Founder."

Odo flinched. "You're…not the way I remember you."

"No, and neither are you." Miro didn't turn back around. "Get back to talking to Eeris. I have no interest in conversation."

Odo turned back to Eeris. "So, I take it you know of the Emissary?"

"Only from the vedek," Eeris said.

Odo tilted his head. "Not from the Bajoran populace?"

Miro let out a sharp bark of laughter and swiveled his chair around. "Founder, if we're going to talk—and it looks like we are, much to my dismay—we might as well start off on the right foot. You've missed nine hundred years of Alpha Quadrant history while you were oozing around back where you call home. Eeris doesn't know any of it, the Bajoran High Council is really good at keeping secrets. Something you might sympathize with. Meet us at the station, and I'll fill you in. But let's get one thing straight, Founder. I have no interest in talking to you, or spending time with you, and I'm starting to regret getting myself involved in this."

"Understood," Odo said. "I'll meet you at the station."

"And one more thing, Founder," Miro said.

Odo looked up at him.

"You might have a little trouble getting cleared for docking," Miro said. "We're not friendly with Founders around here. And you can be sure that if you run into difficulty…" He leaned in closer to the screen. "…I won't be there at your side."

"Alright," Odo said. "But I assure you, Dax, your hard feelings are unwarranted. I'm not here as a Founder."

"Once a Founder, always a Founder," Miro snapped. He shook his head, his green eyes shooting daggers. "And you think you know someone."

Odo flinched and drew a rather shaky breath. "…Alright. I'll see you at the station. Rintoqua out."

Eeris swung around to face Miro. "Now what was that all about?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, kid," Miro said, his attention back on the controls. "Just a nine-hundred-year-old grudge. If you wanna know what he did that was so bad, you're gonna have to ask him." He frowned, his eyes growing distant as his hands stiffened. "I don't want to talk about it."