Kylus sat in the cockpit with his hands on the controls, eyes locked on the forward displays while the ship cut through its route. Data streamed across layered panels, navigation feeds and tactical overlays shifting as crew moved around him without speaking unless spoken to.
Then his breathing changed.
It came shallow at first, uneven, chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. His fingers flexed against the controls as if pressure alone could steady it, but the sensation didn't ease. It crept upward instead, heavier, sharper, dragging heat into his throat.
"Readings," Kylus said, voice strained. "Take over."
A crew member stepped in immediately, hands replacing his with efficiency that didn't require explanation. Another leaned toward a diagnostic panel, eyes scanning metrics as Kylus pushed back from the seat and stood.
He left the cockpit without waiting for confirmation.
