In a future where the stars blaze with endless wars, a sharp voice cut through Jarek's mind.
"Welcome, new ruler. You've been chosen to command a world in the great game of space."
The rules came fast, simple but heavy:
Your planet and its people are random, a toss of fate.
You won't age, but death can still find you.
If you die here, it's over for good.
Other forces—allies or enemies—could strike anytime.
This is your world now. Explore it. Build it. Survive.
Jarek opened his eyes. He stood in a wide room, its walls smooth metal glowing with faint blue light. Tall windows lined one side, showing a dry, red land stretching out below. A city of low, tough buildings sat under a sky streaked with orange clouds. This wasn't the grimy repair bay he'd known, fixing busted ships on a failing station. This was something else.
He was a ruler now. Memories of this place hit him hard, flooding in like a storm. This was Redstone, a harsh planet orbiting a weak, fading sun. Its people were the Dustwalkers—tall, lean figures with skin like cracked clay. The sun's cruel light had shaped them, cutting their lives short. Most didn't make it past twenty-five before their bodies broke down, worn out by the heat and dust.
Jarek rubbed his jaw, taking it in. It wasn't a good draw. But the Dustwalkers were clever. They'd built machines to pull water from the air and weapons that fired beams of light. They had potential—if only they had more time. Twenty-five years wasn't enough to reach the stars when every trip took decades.
He stepped to the window, boots thudding on the metal floor. The city hummed below, its people moving like ghosts in the haze. This tower—his tower—rose above it all, a mark of his new role. His reflection stared back: a broad figure in a plain gray coat, a faint glow circling his head like a crown. It felt odd, but he liked it.
The galaxy waited out there. The voice had warned of others—rulers like him, or worse, enemies he couldn't picture. He needed more. A screen on the wall flickered on as he approached, showing a stream of voices from across space. He tapped it, and they spilled out:
"—woke up on a swamp planet with bugs as big as my leg. This is nuts!"
"I've got a world of fire and a race that talks to machines. It's unreal!"
"Unreal? I got a warning about something called the Star League. Anyone know it?"
"Star League? Bad news. They've got fleets everywhere, tech that cracks worlds open. My people say they owned this space long ago."
"I just want out. This isn't what I signed up for."
"Out? This is real now. My scouts saw shapes moving out there—dark, fast, and close."
Jarek's fists clenched. The Star League. It didn't ring a bell, but it sounded big. Dangerous. The Dustwalkers had no tales of them, but old marks in the desert spoke of a war that shattered everything once. Was the Star League tied to that?
He kept listening. Every ruler had a different deal—some got easy worlds, some got nightmares. His was rough, but the Dustwalkers had grit. If he could stretch their lives, they might hold their own.
A new message flashed, just for him:
"Ruler of Redstone, your sun is fading. Find the Time Well. It's beyond the Dust Ring. Move fast."
No name. No hints. Just a shove toward something unknown.
Jarek exhaled hard. The Dust Ring was a messy cloud of rocks near his planet—risky, but maybe worth it. The Time Well? Could it give the Dustwalkers more years? If he was in this game, he'd need them ready for whatever came next.
Outside, the wind roared, slamming red dust against the glass. Jarek, ruler of Redstone, squared his shoulders. This was his fight now, and he'd damn well win it.