Аннотация
“What the kosst?” said a man’s voice from somewhere back the way she had come. Someone else was here. Someone Bajoran, apparently, for the curse was not one that a Cardassian would ever use. Ro Laren drew her phaser, more excited than afraid.
“Who are you?” she shouted.
“Who am I?” the voice answered. “Who are you? This heap is mine—we claimed it over a week ago.”
A man emerged in the corridor then, a gray-haired Bajoran that Laren didn’t recognize.
She lifted her phaser. “Don’t make me ask again,” she said coolly.
He slitted his eyes at her, his heavily lined face crinkling with the expression. He looked worried for an instant, but then smiled. “My name is Darrah Mace,” he told her. “I’ve come here from Valo II. Now, how about you tell me who you are?”
“My cell found this ship two days ago,” she told him, her phaser still trained on the stranger. “I was here first.”
The man laughed. “Just how old are you? Twelve? You still hav...
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