Аннотация
Andy Mangels, Michael A. Martin The Good That Men Do
“I’m so sorry, Captain,” Phlox was
saying in tones that dripped with grief.
“He’s gone.”
A pause. Then Phlox spoke again: “Computer, record that death occurred at nineteen‑hundred and thirty‑three hours, fourteen February, 2155.”
Feeling unaccountably calmed by the knowledge that the deed had finally been done, Trip opened his eyes. He looked up again at his reflection, which looked bizarre and funhouse‑distorted in the curved, too‑close metal ceiling of the chamber. He could see that the Denobulan physician had certainly managed to make him look gruesome, in spite of the haste with which he’d had to work. A large, livid burn snaked down his neck, and a profusion of other wounds and smudges covered both his flesh and his torn uniform.
So this is what it’s like to be dead,he thought, really trying on the idea for the first time. Funny. Doesn’t hurt q...
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