Ryan-s Rescue Squad -

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

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.

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’s Rescue Squad wasn’t a team because of orders or ranks. Ryan-s Rescue Squad

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.

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

“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.” Behind them, the hovercraft roared to life, Mira’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.”

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

They ran into the glowing dark. Behind them, Mira’s tools sang. Ahead, the ground groaned like a dying beast. They didn’t stop

“Directly below us. And Mira? Make it fast.”

The boy’s eyes were wide, but he reached up.

, the muscle, kept his massive arms folded, scanning the treeline where the bioluminescent ferns were beginning to glow. “We don’t have five. The fauna here gets chatty after dark. And hungry.”

“Port thruster’s shot,” he said, not looking up.

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 .