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He gestured to me as he grabbed a bright red ticket from a slotted rack. Wiggins would frown upon overt delight in being dispatched to earth.
He stiffened a little, lifted himself up on his elbow and looked towards the door. Perhaps he had felt the draught of air.
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He gestured to me as he grabbed a bright red ticket from a slotted rack. Wiggins would frown upon overt delight in being dispatched to earth. First he would lie in his own blood while he was photographed from every angle. Then he would be transported to the morgue, evidence tweezered from his wound, his statistics read into a recorder, his organs weighed and measured, his skull sawed in half. Uniforms coming, but where the hell were they.
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