Original subtitles

So, there I was...

fighting the toughest battle of my life...

Iooking around, hoping to spot a friendly face

only to discover my colleagues...

were gone.

I was alone.

I admit for a moment there I considered giving up.

I could feel the seconds ticking away...

panic building up inside of me.

I knew my only chance was to trust my instincts

so I closed my eyes...

took a deep breath

and just like that, it came to me...

the answer I was looking for...

a pericardial membrane!

Oh!

I looked down

and punched the answer into my computer terminal

just as the buzzer sounded, ending the exam

and that, I suppose

is the stuff salutatorians are made of.

Salutatorian?

Well, I mistook a preganglionic fiber

for a postganglionic nerve during the orals

or I would have been valedictorian.

It was a trick question.

Fascinating.

Not nearly as fascinating as when I...

Dr. Bashir, Chief O'Brien.

Report to Landing Pad Five.

Bad timing.

There'll be another time.

Starfleet medical finals.

Gets them every time.

It's no use.

Chief!

We have to get this hatch open.

Lieutenant Dax and Ensign Pauley are trapped in there.

The runabout barely made it back

through the wormhole.

By the time they docked

power levels were near zero.

There's not even enough juice left in the ship

to release the servos.

Life support's down.

Oxygen levels have dropped dangerously low.

Have to burn it through.

Forget it, Major.

The hatch is made of duranium composite.

It'll take you an hour to get through it.

We don't have that much time.

That's odd.

How many passengers did you say were on board the Ganges?

Two.

I'm reading three.

We need to get power to the hatch servos.

Major, hand me the EPI capacitor.

There, middle shelf.

Try her now.

Dax?

I'm fine. Check the others.

Vash?

That's right.

Miles O'Brien, from the Enterprise.

Oh. Yes, of course.

What are you doing on the Ganges?

We found her

in the Gamma Quadrant.

She'd been there for over two years.

Two years?!

Doctor, we'd better get these people

over to the infirmary.

Right this way.

How did you get to the Gamma Quadrant two years ago?

A friend dropped me off.

Oh.

Will I live?

You're fine.

In fact...

you're in remarkable shape.

Thank you, Doctor.

I try.

Well, l-I-I-I mean you've, uh...

managed quite well

considering you've been out of contact

with civilization for over two years.

Well, I'd hardly call the Gamma Quadrant uncivilized.

Some of the cultures I've encountered

have histories dating back millions of years.

Really? I'd love to hear about them.

I mean, we have no idea what's beyond the wormhole.

Well, maybe I'll write a book.

Well, it's sure to be a best-seller around here.

I... well... um...

no sign of disease or malnutrition

or parasitic infections.

You sound disappointed.

I am.

Now I have no reason to keep you here.

Well, you almost make me wish I wasn't feeling well.

And she claims she knew nothing about the wormhole?

She did seem very surprised when I told her about it.

I don't think she ever expected

to see this part of the galaxy again.

How could she get there in the first place

if she didn't go through the wormhole?

She said she didn't want to talk about it.

Said it was a personal matter.

This doesn't make sense...

a human alone in the Gamma Quadrant for two years.

Let's check her background.

See what we can find out about her.

She claims to be an archaeologist.

That's a good place to start.

You sure this place is safe?

The Assay Office

is the most secure area on the station.

The chambers are surrounded on all sides

by individual force fields.

And how are the locks controlled?

Once you secure a chamber, it can't be opened

except with your personal authorization code

combined with a verified retinal print.

A Cardassian MK-7 scanner?

MK-12.

With an L-90 enhanced resolution filter.

Well, I suppose that will have to do.

Computer, begin inventory for cubicle 19.

One statue...

stone.

30-odd centimeters tall, approximately eight kilograms.

Assorted gems.

Gold necklace.

One dagger...

bronze and gold.

About 25 centimeters.

Beautiful.

I've never seen anything quite like it.

Some kind of Promethean quartz.

I thought so, too, at first

but its molecular density and refraction index

is much higher.

Remarkable.

End inventory.

Please, enter an access code.

All right.

I'll be back tomorrow to pick everything up.

I've booked passage on the Mulzirak Transport.

You're not leaving us so soon, are you?

I'm afraid so.

The Daystrom Institute will be very disappointed.

The Daystrom Institute?

Their scientists are anxious

to hear about life in the Gamma Quadrant.

Every place you've been, everything you've seen

no matter how insignificant

could prove to be important, including how you got there.

Sorry, Commander, but that's a...

Personal matter. ...personal matter.

So now the Daystrom Institute is interested in me.

Well, that's ironic.

Professor Woo seemed especially eager

to speak to you again.

Did he really?

I suppose he told you he suspended my membership

from the Institute's Archaeological Council?

On two occasions.

Something about the sale of illegal artifacts.

Well, when it comes to choosing

between science and profit

I'll choose profit every time.

The professor was hoping you'd make an exception in this case.

You know, I haven't been back to Earth in...

it must be 12 years.

Here's your chance.

I could arrange passage.

I think I'd like that.

Fine. I'll take care of it.

I don't understand it, Commander.

I can't find anything wrong with her.

This ship is completely functional.

It didn't look that way this morning.

Oh, don't get me wrong.

The power reserves are empty.

The inertial damping fields are barely operational

and the warp drive containment field's

on the verge of collapse.

But?

But there's nothing wrong with any of them.

Once we put power back into her

she should be fully operational.

Did you check the central power linkages?

Yes, sir.

I ran a level-1 diagnostic.

Everything checks out.

I can't explain it.

It's like something tapped into the ship's systems

and drained them dry.

Tell me, Chief, how well do you know this woman Vash?

Hardly at all.

Only met her that one time

she was aboard the Enterprise.

What was she doing there?

Well, sir, Vash and Captain Picard

were friends...

close friends, if you follow my meaning.

Seems they met on Risa a few years back.

I figure she must be a special woman

being friends with the Captain and all.

Somehow, she doesn't seem to be his type.

Well, the Captain likes a good challenge, sir.

Status report?

We suffered a broad-spectrum power drain.

Power transfer is completely inoperative.

The energy was drawn out

faster than it could handle.

I'll have to replace the whole unit.

Chief, are you reading any graviton flux

around the transfer systems?

I am detecting a low-level graviton disturbance.

How did you know?

That's exactly what happened

when we lost power on the Ganges.

These were originally Cardassian living quarters.

The bed may take some getting used to.

As an archaeologist

I've spent half my life sleeping in tents.

To me, any bed will be a luxury.

You've obviously never slept

on a Cardassian mattress.

If you need anything, just ask the computer.

Thanks, Chief.

Oh, by the way, how's Jean-Luc?

The Captain?

Mm-hmm.

The last time I saw him, he was fine.

Well, now that I'm back, I'll have to look him up.

Really, Vash, I can't believe

you're still pining for Jean-Luc...

that self-righteous do-gooder.

I should have listened to him when he warned me about you.

You're hurt, you strike back

I understand, but be of good cheer

I bring you wonderful news... I'm back.

And I can see now

it was cruel of me to leave you.

Very touching, but you didn't leave me, I left you.

You left me, I left you... details, mere details.

The important thing is

we're back together again... a team.

Joined together at the hip.

Not a chance.

You know you're going to miss me.

Don't flatter yourself.

You know, I thought

we'd first visit the Teleris Cluster

look in on the star dancers at Mundahla

or maybe head over to the Lantar Nebula

and view the Sampalo relic on Hoek IV.

Not interested.

I know... Vadris III, charming little world.

The natives think they're

the only intelligent life in the universe.

No!

All right.

You choose then.

I choose never to go anywhere with you again, Q.

You don't know

what you're missing.

When we started this little partnership

I promised to take you places no human had ever seen before.

And you have.

It was wonderful.

Thank you.

Now, good-bye.

Two years in the Gamma Quadrant hardly qualifies

as a grand tour of the universe.

There's still the Delta Quadrant to explore

not to mention all the other galaxies.

It's over, Q.

I want you out of my life.

You are arrogant, you're overbearing

and you think you know everything.

But I do know everything.

That makes it even worse.

All right, fine.

What is it you really want?

I want the life I had before I met you.

And a stellar life, indeed.

The eminent Vash...

barred from the Royal Museum of Epsilon Hydra VII.

Persona non grata on Betazed.

Wanted dead on Myrmidon

for stealing the Crown of the First Mother.

Dead or alive.

Preferably dead.

It's a wonder you haven't offended

every sentient race in the galaxy.

You're the one who almost got me killed on Erriakang VII.

And they weren't exactly thrilled

to see you on Brax either.

What did they call you, "the God of lies"?

They meant it affectionately.

They meant it affectionately.

Come in.

I...

Go away.

Q, bring him back.

What business could you possibly have

with that disgusting little troll?

I don't know.

You didn't give him time to tell me.

Now, bring him back this instant.

All right.

Can I help you?

My name is Quark.

It's, uh, it's come to my attention

that you have access to certain... items.

Items that might perhaps turn a tidy profit?

I'm listening.

For a percentage

I might be able to arrange a buyer for your trinkets

perhaps an auction.

I'll only accept payment in gold-pressed latinum.

I'll shower you in it... 50-50.

Mr. Quark, I believe

you're trying to take advantage of me.

Some wine?

Oh, oh...

You have a talent for oo-mox.

So I've been told.

I'll not be distracted by your feminine wiles.

I demand 40%.

All right, 30...

What magnificent cartilage.

22, and don't stop.

You've got a deal.

I expect you'll make all the necessary arrangements?

Oh, you're good.

You're very, very good.

How perfectly vile.

If that's the sort of company you kept before meeting me

it's no wonder you ended up with Picard.

Go away.

Enter.

Aren't we the hub of activity?

I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything?

No, come in, Doctor.

Thank you, and please call me Julian.

Julian, is this medical business?

Well, to tell the truth, I tried to come up

with some official reason for dropping by

but your excellent health

has robbed me of any excuses.

Well, that didn't seem to stop you.

So, I thought I'd contribute to your good health

by buying you dinner.

Quark's makes a delicious couscous

and the company, I hope, might be mildly entertaining.

Sounds like fun.

Uh, though, I would like to, uh, freshen up first.

Could I meet you there in, say, 20 minutes or so?

Those 20 minutes will seem like an eternity.

These mating rituals you humans indulge in

are really quite disgusting.

Get out.

You know you don't mean it.

Out!

You're making a terrible mistake.

You'll be lost without me.

I can take care of myself.

Really? Well, we'll see about that.

Oh, just a cup of mint tea, please.

You're making a terrible mistake.

Why? The replicators haven't malfunctioned again?

I'm talking about Vash.

Stay away from her.

My God, you're an impertinent waiter.

I'm a friend.

I'm giving you friendly advice.

She's nothing but trouble.

Really? Well, I don't see

that it's any of your business who I see.

In fact, I'm having dinner with her now.

Are you sure you're up to it? You look tired.

I feel fine.

No, no, no, you look very, very, tired.

Oh, God.

Funny, I...

I do feel a bit... a bit spent.

Maybe I should...

Maybe I should go lie down for a, for a minute.

Hopefully, by yourself for a change.

Bloody hell.

Sir, the Klingon scout ship has departed Docking Bay 11.

Good. I'll tell Odo he can relax now.

We've got a problem, sir.

I just saw Q on the Promenade.

Q here?

What's Q?

A powerful and extremely unpredictable entity.

I was at a Starfleet briefing on him two years ago.

Blasted menace is what he is.

What does he want with us?

Whatever it is, you can be sure we won't like it.

You might ask Vash.

Why Vash?

They know each other.

From the Enterprise?

I believe they actually met in Sherwood Forest.

It was one of the little jokes

Q played on the Enterprise crew.

Main power grid has dropped 80%.

Sensors are reading a massive graviton build-up.

How long will it take to bring us back up to full power?

It's already beginning to normalize.

You know, if we have one of these outages

during a docking procedure

we could lose an entire pylon.

I've double-checked every system.

For the first time in a month

there's nothing wrong with any of them.

It's got to be Q... another one of his stupid jokes.

I'm not laughing.

I figured we'd auction this off last.

Interesting, but hardly of any intrinsic value.

Really? I thought it was

the best piece in the collection.

Oh, obviously, my associates have

more sophisticated tastes

than what you're used to

but, uh, just so it's not a total loss

I'll take it off your hands for, say

seven bars of gold-pressed latinum.

It's worth 50 times as much.

Ridiculous.

All right, 18

but you must swear never to tell a soul

about my foolish generosity.

If you want it, you're going to have to be

a lot more foolish than that.

All right, 30.

Now, give it to me.

Bidding starts at 200 bars of gold latinum.

I can't decide what's more intoxicating...

this Gamzian wine, or your negotiating skills.

We need to talk.

The lady and I are having a private conversation.

It can wait.

Tell me, Commander, where is that doctor of yours?

He was supposed to meet me here a half an hour ago.

Tell me about Q.

I'll tell you anything you want to know, Commander.

Just answer one question...

is Starfleet penalizing you

or did you actually request such a dismal command?

I want you off this station.

Don't be hasty, my happy-go-lucky friend.

This dreary little gulag

could use a little color, some excitement.

And who better to provide that than moi?

Although, I must admit, I like your new tailor.

I'm not impressed by your parlor tricks.

These power outages are going to stop, right now.

Why tell me?

Oh... oh, yes, of course, go ahead

blame Q if it makes you feel any better.

I suppose it's my fate

to be the galaxy's whipping boy.

Oh, heavy is the burden of being me.

If you're looking for sympathy

you've come to the wrong place.

Actually, what I was hoping for was a little witty repartee

but I can see I'm not going to get any of that either.

At least your beloved Jean-Luc

knew how to turn a phrase.

Take a hint, Q.

No one wants you around.

Really, Vash, this playing hard to get is growing tedious.

Let's not forget that I'm the Q

and you the lowly human.

I'll decide when this partnership is over.

Understand?

Why don't you and I

continue this discussion in private?

Excellent idea.

You're right.

This is an excellent idea.

Sisko to Ops.

All gone.

Bring them back, Q.

Now!

Or what?

You'll thrash me?

Shall we settle this mano a mano?

Marquis of Queensberry rules?

What?

Fisticuffs, pugilism, the manly art of self-defense.

Come on.

Isn't this all wonderfully barbaric?

Go on, take a poke at me.

I know that's what you really want to do.

Come on.

I'll wager five bars of latinum on Sisko.

You're on.

Fight back.

This is supposed to be brutal.

You can pay me out of your profits

from the auction.

You hit me.

Picard never hit me.

I'm not Picard.

Indeed not.

You're much easier to provoke.

How fortunate for me.

Oh! Not again.

Damn it, Q. Enough is enough.

We're losing atmosphere.

Decompression protocol.

Mr. O'Brien, raise the confinement shields.

Shields up.

Damage report.

We've got a minor hull breach

in one of the upper bulkheads.

I'm getting reports of hull fractures

throughout the station.

Emergency systems

appear to be functioning.

Repair crews are responding.

The breach was caused

by some kind of focused graviton pulse.

Every time we've had a power drain

it's been followed

by an increase in the graviton field.

If this continues, we could wind up

with a breach in one of our reactor cores.

We'd lose half the station.

Maybe it's time

we opened negotiations with Q.

I'm not convinced Q is behind this.

Playing with the lights and punching holes in the hull

doesn't strike me as his style.

You wanted to see me?

Make it quick.

I have important business.

Yes, I know.

You're auctioning off some artifacts

from the Gamma Quadrant.

You were eavesdropping on my conversation with Vash.

What were you this time?

The table? One of the chairs?

The wine bottle.

When are you going to realize

that you have no secrets from me?

I have nothing to hide.

I'm selling quality merchandise to select clientele.

And what makes them so select?

They're all ridiculously wealthy...

and not too bright.

I'll never understand this obsession

with accumulating

material wealth.

You spend your entire life plotting and scheming

to acquire more and more possessions

until your living areas are bursting

with useless junk.

Then you die.

Your relatives sell everything

and start the cycle all over again.

Isn't there anything you... desire?

I have my work.

What more do I need?

A suit of the finest Andorian silk?

A ring of pure Surax?

A complete set

of Tanesh pottery?

How about

a latinum-plated bucket to sleep in?

Ah.

Ahh...

Well, I'm glad to see you've packed.

I hope you said good-bye to all your newfound friends.

I don't have time for this.

You've led a charmed life these past two years

under my benevolent protection.

I can take care of myself.

Really?

Do you remember that tiny little insect bite

you had on Erabus Prime?

If I hadn't been there...

I am not going with you.

The galaxy can be a dangerous place

when you're on your own.

It's over, Q.

I leave you now to reconsider my offer of friendship.

Station Log, Stardate 46531.2.

The station's power is continuing to be drained

and converted into gravitons.

At this rate, our life-support systems will fail in 14 hours.

Sir, we'll never find the source of the power drain

using these bloody Cardassian internal sensors.

They're just not sensitive enough.

What if we make the power drain easier to detect.

If we flood the station with ionized tritium gas

we should be able to trace the particle flow

to the source.

Tritium?

Well isn't that pretty toxic?

Only when it's highly concentrated.

We'd only use a very small amount.

Do it.

Unless we get this under control in the next eight hours

we'll begin evacuation procedures.

Still chasing your own tail?

Picard and his lackeys

would have solved all this technobabble hours ago.

No wonder you're not commanding a starship.

Security to Ops.

Well, aren't we the feisty little go-getter.

I'd keep my eye on this one.

Chances are

she's after your job.

Why don't you do something constructive for a change...

like torment Cardassians.

Do I know you?

O'Brien. From the Enterprise.

Enterprise?

Oh, yes.

Weren't you one of the little people?

Quite a motley crew you've assembled here, Benji.

My advice to you is to evacuate now

and save all this pointless guesswork.

Q, either you tell us what's going on

or get the hell out of the way.

I'll tell you what's going on.

While you're here conducting futile experiments

Vash is below engaged in base commerce

and setting Federation ethics

back 200 years.

Believe me, gang

she's far more dangerous to you than I.

Kolos, my friend.

I don't know which pleases me more...

your smiling face or your overflowing purse.

Quark, you obsequious toad.

Your so-called

Gamma Quadrant merchandise

had better be legitimate

or I'll toss you out the nearest airlock.

No cause for alarm.

Each piece comes complete

with a statement of authenticity from Vash...

the Federation's foremost expert

on the Gamma Quadrant.

In that case, stop sniveling and give me a synthale.

Are they all that pleasant?

I don't care about their manners.

The important thing is

they're honest collectors of antiquities... every one.

How honest?

As honest as you and I.

Well, then, we'd better keep a close eye on them.

My dear, I've been thinking.

What would you say to a permanent partnership?

What with your knowledge of the Gamma Quadrant

and my business connections, we could make a fortune.

Sorry, Quark, but I've slept in my last tent.

I'm looking forward to a nice, quiet life back on Earth.

You won't last a month.

You're like me.

You live for excitement, adventure and profit.

Not anymore.

Would you care to make a wager on that?

The graviton field has increased by 60%.

How soon can we begin the sensor sweep?

Not until we've increased tritium levels

to one part per million.

Should only be another seven, eight minutes.

Commander, we're being pulled

out of our normal position.

Use control thrusters to stabilize the station.

Firing thrusters.

We're still moving.

If the graviton field

is feeding off the station's power

maybe we can cut its supply by shutting down the reactors.

Put life-support on emergency backup.

Take everything else off line.

We're still moving out of position.

What's our heading?

Bearing 157 mark 13.

Straight into the wormhole.

Now, as you know

payment must be in gold-pressed latinum

and all transactions are final. Hmm?

Remember, bid high, and bid often.

Ladies and gentlemen

our first item is a statue

from the Gamma Quadrant's Verath system.

Now, I suppose I should take a minute

to tell you a little bit about the Verathan civilization

which reached its height some 30,000 years ago

and spanned over two dozen systems

interconnected by a highly developed trade

and communications network.

This statue represents Drohlak...

the Prime Ossemite of the 19th dynasty.

Vash, what are you doing?

I'm placing the statue in its historical context.

Give me that.

This isn't the Daystrom Institute.

Watch closely.

Friends...

it's rare...

it's beautiful...

and it's a Gamma Quadrant original!

And it can be yours for the right price.

Bidding will start at ten bars of gold-pressed latinum.

Make it ten.

Fifteen?

Sixteen?

Who will say 17

and be the first to own a piece of the Gamma Quadrant?

Tritium levels throughout the station

have reached one part per million.

Initiating sensor sweep.

We can rule out the docking ring.

The tritium gas seems to be draining towards

the central core.

Where in the central core?

Let me see if I can get a more precise reading.

It's not clear enough.

I can't pinpoint an exact location.

Based on our current trajectory

we'll hit the wormhole in 18 minutes.

What the hell

could be pulling us into the wormhole?

Do we have time to transfer auxiliary power

to the deflectors, Chief?

Sir, there's not enough power left

to make any difference.

If we get sucked into that wormhole

we'll be in a billion pieces

by the time we reach the Gamma Quadrant.

Sold to Kolos for 36 bars of gold-pressed latinum.

Next, we have...

a dagger...

studded with some very interesting-looking gems.

Think of it

as a weapon and an investment.

Bidding will start at 40.

Forty.

Forty-two?

Forty-two.

Forty-five?

Don't hold back.

You know you want it.

Give me 50.

50. We have 50.

I hate to interrupt

such a thrilling display of naked avarice

but I thought it was only right of me

to warn you that this station is hurtling towards its doom

and it's very unlikely

that any of you will survive to enjoy your purchases.

I just thought I'd mention it.

Please, carry on.

Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you

everything is under control.

Drinks for everyone

and free use of the holosuites

at the conclusion of the auction, eh?

I don't think I realized until this moment

how evil you really are.

You would kill all these people

to get even with me.

Well, I must admit, the thought had occurred to me

but this station is in enough trouble without me

although I'd be glad to save you.

All you have to do is ask.

I'll take my chances with the others.

As you choose.

As you choose.

I'm going to just sit right here and watch.

I've never seen a space station torn apart by a wormhole before.

100!

Sold to my cousin Stol

for 105 bars of gold-pressed latinum.

What if we pumped more tritium gas

into the central core?

The sensors might be more accurate

with a greater concentration.

It might work

but, in four years, we'd all be dead

from tritium poisoning.

Wait a minute.

Of course.

Bring the reactors back on line.

The reactors?

But they'll just feed more energy

into the graviton field.

If we generate enough energy

it should create a power drain big enough to trace.

It might also push us faster into the wormhole.

A lot faster.

It's a chance we've got to take.

Bring us to full power, Mr. O'Brien.

Everything you've got.

Aye, sir.

Sold to Rul the Obscure

for 151 latinum bars.

And now...

our final item

and I think you'll agree with me

it was well worth the wait.

Bidding will start

at 200 bars of gold-pressed latinum.

200?

Can I get 250?

250. 300, anyone?

300 bars of gold-pressed latinum.

350?

Here.

400?

400.

Five?

520?

600 bars of gold- pressed latinum.

It's not in any of the crossover bridges

or in the habitat ring.

It's in the upper core.

Three minutes

14 seconds to the wormhole.

We're picking up speed.

I've got it.

The power drain's coming from the Promenade.

Chief, you have Ops.

2,500.

2,500, and one.

This way.

3,000 bars of latinum.

My final offer.

3,000 bars!

A million.

A million bars of gold-pressed latinum.

- Over here. - A million going once...

It's by the podium.

A million going twice...

That's it.

Three times.

This auction's over.

Sold.

Chief, shut down the reactors.

We've found it.

And it's about time, too.

Sorry, all transactions are final.

This item belongs to that gentleman over there.

I'm reading a massive graviton build-up

inside this container.

It's increasing exponentially.

We have to get it off the station now.

Chief, lock onto my combadge.

Prepare to transport it 500 meters off the docking ring.

But I haven't been paid.

Energize.

Station Log, Stardate 46532.3.

With the embryonic life-form off the station

graviton levels have returned to normal.

We've used the control thrusters

to return the station to its original position.

So... you're off to the Daystrom Institute.

Bet you can hardly wait.

Long, boring lectures, endless conferences

whining students dogging your every step.

Sounds delightful.

Of course...

No, you wouldn't be interested.

In what?

I hear they've uncovered the ruins

of a Rokai provincial capital on Tartaras V.

If you could obtain some Rokain artifacts...

Forget it, Quark.

I'm going back to Earth.

Have it your way.

An abysmal place.

Tartaras V?

Earth. Oh, don't get me wrong.

1,000 years ago, it had character.

Crusades, Spanish Inquisition, Watergate.

Now it's just mind-numbingly dull.

Well, then, by all means, don't come with me.

I think you'd be much happier

poking about the ruins of Tartaras V.

I don't need your advice.

You really think I?

You know, I still feel that I owe you

a million bars of gold-pressed latinum.

Keep it... just give me back my life.

You'll regret it if I do.

I'm willing to take my chances.

All right, if you insist.

But it's not going to be the same without you.

When I look at a gas nebula, all I see is a cloud of dust.

Seeing the universe through your eyes

I was able to experience... wonder.

I'm going to miss that.

Well, I guess in some ways, I'm going to miss you, too.

Maybe I could drop in sometime.

Oh, God, I hope not.

Hey, Quark.

What's the quickest way to Tartaras V?

Ah...

I feel as though I've been asleep for days.

What?

Did I miss something?