It doesn't conquer. It asks a question—and measures how you break.

Commander Selene Cross keeps 1,247 souls alive in the dark with spreadsheets, cargo manifests, and a station full of children who just voted to name the class hamster "Admiral Fluffington." This is what she's protecting. It would be easier if the thing hunting them could be shot.

It can't.

The Dissolution threads itself through the walls, learns how you respond to fear, and offers a choice older than your entire species. When a quarantined ghost ship fires its engines for six silent seconds, Selene knows it isn't a malfunction. It's a measurement—and every defense her engineer built was studied while he built it.

Kai finds the way out where he finds everything: in patterns no one else bothered to read. A signal left thirty thousand years ago by a vanished people who answered the question differently—and lived.

Nobody's called out in ten thousand years.

Will the Resolved still answer—or is Black Sky about to prove there was only ever one way this ends? Grab The Contact Protocol now.

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