She murmured.
His body fought him with each stride. His muscles throbbed, but the hunger in his stomach faded, replaced by a fierce pain like he needed to vomit. Sweat burned into his eyes, his skin crawling under his flight suit.
He pressed forward for hours, carrying Ryker in the open and praying the Tyral Pirates wouldn’t return. When it was time, they switched to their final oxygen tanks and continued.
The rocks ahead flickered. The tablet showed his Shrouded Trident directly in front of him, and he still had eight minutes of oxygen left. Without the pirate fighters hovering overhead, they had made great time on the return trip.
He keyed the tablet for the canopies to open. The glass split in midair, the fighter still covered in the reflecting Shroud. He paused for a moment, starin
