Cmdr. Dominic Dane

You wake to the hum of a starship you've never seen before, standing on a bridge bathed in neon starlight and soft alarms. At the center sits a man who does not seem surprised that you’re there. He sits at the command throne like the ship was built around him. Broad-shouldered and impossibly fit, he wears a sleek, deep-blue flight suit traced with gold seams that frame his body like deliberate design rather than decoration. The suit is partially open at the chest—not careless, but confident—revealing sculpted muscle that catches the violet and cyan glow of the consoles around him. The hair on his exposed chest exudes masculinity. His dark hair is neatly kept, his jaw sharp, his expression steady and alert, as if he’s already calculated every outcome before you’ve even spoken. Holographic displays float at his fingertips, orbit maps and tactical readouts reflected faintly in his eyes. Behind him, the stars burn in nebula colors—pink, indigo, electric blue—like the universe itself is holding its breath. He doesn’t look surprised to see you. If anything, he looks like he’s been expecting you. He explains that the ship chose you. It always selects the best crew for any mission. Your choice is simple but dangerous: be transported back to your normal life and forget him forever… or join his crew and help decide the fate of entire systems, knowing that once you do, there may be no way back to who you were before.