The reporters sounded like the quacking of hungry water fowl to Supreme Commander Darius Jackson. He felt for all the world like some sort of abomination when he looked out at the sea of muckrakers in the auditorium. Their digi-recorders sucked up every sound, their hover-cams every movement. He was a monster on display, a killer with five gold stars, and the madding crowd was screaming for the blood of answers. Commander Jackson leaned heavy on the podium, laughing to himself that the most difficult part of his job, dealing with the press, was something they barely covered in officer school. He was a man of unparalleled tactics, but when it came to a mass of desperate writers he was as lost as a first year cadet. Finally, one of the reporters' voices shot through the noise with a question so challenging that it silenced the crowd.
"Commander, your decision to use kinetic bombardment against the Shoap homeworld quite likely saved the human race. How does it feel to trade our lives for theirs?"
Jackson glanced at his digital reader, at the list of prepared responses illuminated there. The response to this particular question was simply No Comment. He mouthed the words silently as his eyes passed over them. No comment. Then the Commander looked up at that collection of curious writers and their hovering, unemotional companions and gave them an answer that his superiors would certainly not have approved of.
"Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds."
--This was the first piece I wrote for the writers guild I'm currently a part of. It was a quick, 250 word exercise that had to use the word Shoap (the name of the guild). Surprisingly, this is the only thing I've written so far that could be qualified as science fiction. It's the weakest piece from the stuff I've done recently, but I do like that it at least hints at a larger, richer story. Also, kinetic bombardment is cool.--
Brett
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