General Heckler-Koch leans back on his chair. He knows it’s going to be bad news. Astrophysicists never come to the military unless they have bad news. The only people they contact when they have good news are scientific journals and other astrophysicists.
"How long before this…alien infection spreads?" he asks, rubbing his forehead with a hand marred by wars and torture rooms past.
Dr. Gallium flings his papers to the ground. Goddamn military men! They never listen to astrophysicists and their scientific ilk until it’s too late. He makes a fist and immediately pockets it.
"General," he starts again, summoning every ounce of patience left in his body and restricting his gesticulating to his unclenched hand, "Don’t you understand? We are already dead."