Two hours later, the war room is a crucible of despair.
The holographic projection in the center of the table shows the solar system. At the very edge, a massive, shadowy distortion is slowly, inexorably moving inward. It looks like a smudge of ink on a photograph, blurring the stars behind it.
General Croft and Ambassador Vance are on the secure comms. Vance looks like he hasn't slept in a week. Croft looks like she’s ready to order a nuclear strike on her own shadow.
"We have to hit it with everything we have," Croft says, her voice tight. "The entire global nuclear arsenal. If we can crack the mass before it reaches the magnetosphere—"
"General, with respect, your nukes will only feed it," I say, my voice ringing with absolute, exhausted authority. "The Devourer is made of negative
