Title pulled at random from Verbal Kung-Fu Generator.

. . .

It had been detected days before, approaching on a trajectory that would have aligned to Ursa Major if it was a straight path. Inconsequential form, no danger of heavy impact, probably would be burnt up in the atmosphere.

There is an impact crater where the hamlet of Golyath was; all the earth that was touched by the first shock wave is dead.

. . .

 

The crackling sound continues to echo across the expanding waste that might have been a field of corn, or barley, or oats. It is impossible to judge now, and June Action is finding that she has more pressing concerns to deal with.

The fact that her containment suit is mostly gone being the first. June unhooks her helmet from what remains of the filter hose and lets it fall to the ground beside her. The face-plate is completely blackened, the plasteel cracked and fractured — she would find it hard to accept that she is even alive after a blast of that proximity and magnitude, but that would require a depth of consideration she is unable to muster.

She coughs violently, leaving a splash of sooty phlegm on the bleached white earth beneath her.

The second, more immediate concern looms tall over her: a figure who burns an almost purely radiant and golden light but for a deep crimson hue on the edges. If it has a face or a solid frame, June has been unable to see it through the spotting and pain in her eyes.

 

     AURELIUS: “You will stay down, June Action. It does not interest me to see you stand.”
     AURELIUS: “There will always be opposition, but not from you or your kind. You are unworthy of me.”

 

June does not look up to the alien ambassador now addressing her. Her breathing becomes slow and deep, her mind unfocused, weak; there is no noble pride, no vengeful desire in her, only her breath. She becomes as still as the earth around her, almost dead.

Aurelius stands tall over his fallen foe, the light that he was hardening into a form that is almost human but slightly more. His is a Roman complexion, a face handsome and cruel, a body hard and lean, the expression always haughty. White robes, red gloves, green sash, ornamented only by a small triangular marker on the right breast: a costume uniform belonging to some unknown force.

 

     AURELIUS: “I am but one fingertip of a great hand. A light push and so your world falls.”

 

June slowly turns her head gently to face her attacker, exhaling heavily as she rolls herself. Her eyes flicker once, and she is high above the ground. Again, and the perfectly formed knees of Aurelius collapse from under him. Again, and he falls hard onto his back. Again, and Aurelius finds himself paralysed, the look in his greying eyes expressing the fear that only the truly arrogant can know.

 

     JUNE ACTION: “No one told you it was rude to point, huh?”

 

June extends One Perfect Finger to Aurelius’s face, and the white earth turns red.