Rescue Squad: Ryan-s

, the mechanic, was already knee-deep in the access panel, her multi-tool whining. “Ten minutes. Maybe five if I reroute coolant through the waste exchange.”

, the squad’s whisper—their intel specialist—tilted his head, listening to the silent frequency only he could hear. His eyes went distant, then sharp. “The survivor is a kid. Trapped in a sinkhole three klicks north. Ground is collapsing at a meter per hour.”

Halfway there, a sinkhole opened at Kael’s feet. Jax caught his arm without a word, hauling him up while Ryan fired a grappling line across the chasm. They didn’t stop. They didn’t argue.

Ryan pulled out a battered flare gun and loaded a green cartridge—the signal for children found. “There is no angle. We’re getting that kid out before the planet eats him.” Ryan-s Rescue Squad

“New plan,” Ryan said. “Mira, you stay with the hovercraft. Get it airborne. Jax, Kael, with me. We move fast.”

The hovercraft’s engine coughed black smoke into the amber twilight. Ryan wiped a smear of synthetic oil from his cheek, his fourth pair of goggles already cracked.

The boy’s eyes were wide, but he reached up. , the mechanic, was already knee-deep in the

Behind them, the hovercraft roared to life, Mira’s voice crackling over the comm: “Thrusters green. Where do you need the pickup?”

“Hey,” Ryan said, calm as sunrise. “I’m Ryan. This is Jax and Kael. We’re the rescue squad. You’re going to be fine.”

As the ground began to cave, as Jax lifted the boy onto his shoulders and Kael triangulated the extraction point, Ryan thought about all the people who had told him a squad like this couldn’t work. Too messy. Too emotional. Too unofficial . His eyes went distant, then sharp

When they found the boy—no older than seven, trembling on a crumbling pillar of dirt—Ryan dropped to his belly and reached down.

Ryan grinned—a small, fierce thing.

But as the hovercraft’s belly hatch opened and the boy laughed—actually laughed—at the rush of wind, Ryan knew the truth.