He nods, agreeing but--but even as he tries to put plans together, even before vocalizing it, it's happening all too fast, and what can they do? Evacuate a whole planet? He slams his fist down on his chair, frozen with the need to do something, anything, but he can't--

--they can't.

He feels sick, an entire world is being destroyed--music and eons of history and art and families and architecture and the little things, favorite recipes and gardens and pets and neighbors and--it's being eaten away, it's all gone, and they can't do a single. Thing.

"I think it is." Jake's voice sounds hollow, rage and sorrow so great it can't be expressed. There's tears in his eyes. "Oh God, Jones..."