The data was sitting on Jack Mercer's monitor like an accusation.
He had been repairing a weather satellite receiver for Old Man Henderson—just a busted capacitor and a fried transformer, fifteen bucks and an hour's work—and the thing had picked up something it wasn't supposed to pick up. A signal. Not from the satellite. From beyond Earth's orbit. Dense, massive, moving at twelve kilometers per second on a trajectory that intersected with— Jack paused his...
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