The Prometheus Protocol
Captain Elena Vasquez made first contact. Now she must decide whether humanity is ready for what she found.
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The alien ship hung in space like a geometric dream, its crystalline surfaces reflecting the light of a thousand stars. Captain Elena Vasquez stood on the bridge of the Prometheus, watching history unfold.
"They're hailing us again, Captain," her communications officer reported. "Same message as before."
Elena nodded. "Play it."
The alien voice filled the bridge—not threatening, not welcoming. Simply curious.
"WE HAVE WATCHED YOUR KIND FOR MILLENNIA. WE HAVE QUESTIONS."
"Ma'am, Earth Command wants to know our response."
Elena thought of the first contact protocols she'd memorized. The carefully crafted responses designed by diplomats who'd never left Earth.
She thought of her grandmother's stories about meeting strangers—how a warm meal shared meant more than any speech.
"Tell them we'd be honored to answer their questions," Elena said. "And ask if they're hungry."
The bridge fell silent. And across the void of space, something like laughter echoed back.
