//------------------------------//
// Roll Out! 
// Story: Report From Rescue Company 1 
// by BRBrony9 
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'Engine goes first due!'

Ember Dawn felt his heart beating rapidly. This was it. His first call. Please Celestia, let me not fuck this up.

The engine was a 1000 gallon-per-minute pumper, just three years old and with an onboard water tank with a capacity of 500 gallons. It carried hoses, extension ladders, medical gear, foam canisters, ropes and spare SCBA- self-contained breathing apparatus. Everything fireponies needed to get inside a building and extinguish a fire.

Lieutenant Coppertop, the commander of Engine 25 on this tour, beckoned him over. 'Let's go, probie! Mount up! You're riding as the backup!'

Dawn trotted to the side of the rig. He quickly clambered into his bunker gear, consisting of four boots, pants and a jacket, combined with his helmet and a flash hood that went beneath it to cover his head. The other ponies did the same; Coppertop, the steady and experienced earth pony officer. Dark Flash, the green unicorn mare who was riding as the nozzlepony. Striker, the Pegasus stallion, who was riding as the door control pony, and finally Deep Blue, the- appropriately- blue earth pony mare, who was the chauffeur. Together, the crew mounted up as the apparatus bay door went up. The engine chauffeur started the engine up. The chauffeur was so named because the first actual drivers in the MFD drove the first motorised vehicles, which were small and primitive cars assigned to chief officers. The name had stuck, and to the present day, anypony who drove a vehicle in the MFD was called a chauffeur. 

Dawn settled into his seat for his first ever run as a firepony. The rig doors slammed shut. Everypony was on board. The firehouse door was open. The chauffeur set off, accelerating. The large yellow hose attached to the right side of the engine to vent exhaust gases- carbon dioxide, nitrous oxide and the like- out to the exterior of the building, pulled free of the rig, and the engine roared out into the street, siren starting to wail.

They were heading one block north, and then out to the west. Engine Company 25 drove out, followed by Battalion 9, Chief Firebrand in his sports utility vehicle. There was danger; there was an emergency, a few blocks to the northwest. Ponies were in danger, and Ember Dawn was ready to help, ready to assist them in any way he could.

The engine ploughed on, siren wailing, air horn blasting, anything to get ponies out of the way. They were first due- the first engine expected to arrive at the box, all other things being equal. The first due engine to a building fire would be expected to stretch a line to the fire floor, to try their damnedest to extinguish or contain the fire so that ladder companies could conduct thorough searches for any victims. Ember Dawn prepared himself for the worst. There might be a multiple dwelling, ablaze from base to tip, with hundreds of victims inside. It might be a massacre, a disaster of epic proportions. He braced himself to see death up close and personal.

He didn't see any death.

The engine and the chief pulled into the block, closely followed by Ladder 4. No smoke was showing; no fire was pushing from the building. Dawn disembarked from the engine. He was assigned as backup, the pony positioned right behind the nozzlepony, who controlled the hose. He would be responsible for supporting that pony, taking over if necessary. 

It wasn't necessary. A quick check by Chief Firebrand and a talk with a resident revealed that the alarm had been accidental- a foal playing with matches had set off a smoke alarm, but there was no fire. The ladder company did a rapid search to make sure while the engine stood by, and it was confirmed.

'Battalion 9 to Manehattan, K,' Firebrand spoke into his radio. '10-92 on this box. Battalion 9 is 10-8, all other units in the process, they will go 10-8 when they become available.'

A 10-92 was the MFD signal for a false alarm, officially listed as a Malicious False Alarm. but the reality of the cause could differ, yet still fall within the terms of the signal without having any actual negative intent. Here, for example, somepony had telephoned ir in as they had heard a smoke alarm sounding, though there had been no actual emergency.

The K at the end of a transmission was a holdover from the days of the telegraph signal. When the telegraph was used, decades earlier, for communication between firehouses and between a house and the dispatchers, the letter 'K' was used at the end of transmissions to signal that a message had been received and was awaiting reply. For whatever reasons- nostalgia, convenience- the tradition had continued on into the days of radio and immediate voice communications, so that any radio message anticipating a reply was appended with 'K' at the very end of the transmission. 10-8, meanwhile, signaled that the unit was available for another call if required.

'10-4, Battalion 9. 10-92 on the box.' The dispatcher replied over the radio. Ember Dawn found himself both breathing a sigh of relief, and one of frustration. His first call had been a bust, just a false alarm. He knew that, yes, such things were common in the MFD, or in any other city, but...his first ever call? Really? What would he have to tell his foals about his career, if he and his sweetheart, Rosebush Roulade, ever had any. Sweet Celestia, what he would have given for some kind of action, however trivial! 

Instead he found himself climbing back on the rig, having done nothing at all of any note. The whole company had simply stood by in case their hoses were needed; they hadn't been. Back to the station they went, driving at regular pace through the busy traffic of midtown Manehattan, to return to their firehouse, having done nothing during their absence but waste fuel.

Ember Dawn climbed down from the engine. He was feeling alright, despite his disappointment. They had not operated at the scene, but at least that meant that nopony had been hurt, and nothing had been damaged or destroyed. Just a false alarm, an accidental call and a stern talking to for a young foal from the tough Chief Firebrand. Most likely the colt would never play with matches again, so at least some good had come from their wasted trip.

'Hey, first run under your belt, kiddo!' Striker, the sole Pegasus on the crew, grinned and gave him a slap on the back. 'No sweat, huh? Didn't even have to move more than ten feet!'

'Oh, uh, yeah, thanks...' Dawn nodded.

'Don't worry, they'll get tougher than that, just you wait and see,' Striker continued, flexing his black wings a few times after removing his bunker gear. Pegasi fireponies had specialised turnout gear with holes cut in it to allow them to deploy their wings if they needed to take flight, useful for searches and reaching the roof for ventilation. Equally they could tuck their wings back into the gear and pull a toggle on the front to close the openings, providing protection against the heat of a fire if they were required to enter the building.

'I bet they will, yeah,' Dawn replied. 'What was your first call like?'

'Mine?' Striker grinned. 'Oh, hey, I got you beat with that one. My first ever call? Medical run, right? So out we go, siren screaming. Stallion's lyin' on the ground, right? Heart attack, I think. Nope. Just some drunk-ass idiot took a fall. As we're checking him out, oh boy, you'd better believe he starts pissing all over us.' He chuckled. 'Had to take the engine out of service so we could decon our gear.'

'Oh wow...that's an...ignominious start to a career,' Dawn laughed. 'I guess every firepony has stories like that though.'

'Oh yeah. Don't worry, you'll get your fair share,' Striker grinned. 'I know they trained you well at the Academy, but I tell you what. just stick with me and I'll help ya out.'

'Sure...thanks, Striker,' Dawn smiled. 'I'll bear that in mind.'

'Oh, just one thing,' Striker replied. 'Do you know how to cook an eggplant parmesan?'

'Uh...no?' Dawn shrugged.

'Oh, bust! Hey guys, the proby can't cook!' Striker shouted across the apparatus floor. 'Nothin' good anyways!' He gave Dawn a nudge and a wink. 'Just bustin' your balls, kiddo. Anyways, welcome to Firehouse 25!'

Beep-Boop.

'Rescue.'

Dawn looked around. Another run was coming in- but the computerised female voice did not call for his unit, only his brother's company.

'Rescue rolls out!' the housewatch pony called. 'Box 0715, Celestia Drive at East 70th Street, MVA with a pin!'

Dawn watched as Ember Blaze and the rest of the rescue crew galloped from the back rooms of the firehouse and to their rig, pulling on their bunker gear. Several of the crew clambered up into the open back door of the vehicle, into the walk-in equipment compartment. The rest mounted up in the cab, as the bay door rolled open. Off they went, siren wailing and the airhorn being absolutely hammered by the officer, scattering cars in their path as they swung north. Dawn smiled with pride. There, in the past, would go his father. There in the present went his brother. And there, in the future, would go he.




The borough of Manehattan was ringed by a relatively high-speed expressway network. On the west side adjoining the West River ran the Luna Drive, while on the east side, the Celestia Drive provided the same function of bringing vehicles around the island while staying free of the gridlock in the centre. Cars traveled fast on the Drives, which meant frequent accidents.

Rescue Company 1 had the responsibility of responding to the whole of the borough, with the exception of the very far north tip up near The Ponyx, on any incident that might require their services. The range was broad; train, plane and ship accidents, building collapses, car crashes with a pony trapped, cave-ins, high angle rescues. On and on the list went. The Rescue also responded to any working fires in its area of the borough, and as a special unit, could be called anywhere in the city if needs be.

Ember Blaze rode in the back of the cab, excited for his first run. Not his first run ever, of course, but his first with the Rescue Company he had longed to be part of. There was the same thrill of riding in the apparatus as always, but there was also something different about it now. This wasn't some lowly engine or ladder. This was the Rescue. It was THE Rescue, the best in the land, the first and oldest, and now he was part of it.

Captain Grey Spike commanded the company on this tour. He was a long-standing veteran, and Blaze remembered his father mentioning the unicorn stallion a few times in the past. The rig was being driven by Fairway, and the white earth pony stallion was widely considered one of the best chauffeurs in the whole department, which was exactly why he was driving the showpiece rig. In the back of the cab with Blaze, there was Flagstaff, a unicorn mare whose yellow coat and white mane made her look almost exactly like the reflective stripes on the fireponies' turnout gear. In the back rode the rest of the crew, two Pegasi stallions, Oak Wood and High Line, prepping the gear they might need on this call.

The rig pulled onto the Celestia Drive and headed north along the service lane. Traffic was almost at a standstill. The rig radio crackled, tuned in to the Manehattan dispatch frequency. 'Ladder 55 to Manehattan. Box 0715, we have a three-car accident with a confirmed pin. Have the Rescue continue in, K.'

'Alright fillies and gentlecolts!' Grey Spike growled. 'We have work to do on this one.'

The service lane allowed them to race north while traffic beside them was at a halt, and soon enough they came upon the scene of the accident. Other units were on scene already, one engine and one ladder on each side of the central divider. Two ambulances and a police highway car were parked up as well. Three cars were indeed involved in the crash; one was on its roof, another on its side, and the third was crumpled up against the barrier.

Fairway pulled up, and the fireponies climbed down. They were beckoned over by the Lieutenant of Ladder 55. 'Over here, Rescue! Cap, we have a female victim in the overturn, unresponsive. She's pinned in by the steering column. We have the car stablised but we can't get her out with our hydraulic gear. Gonna need yours for this one.'

Grey Spike nodded. 'Ok. High Line, Blaze, get the spreaders. Oak Wood, more cribbing. Flagstaff, shield for the victim.'

The crew sprang into action, and Blaze went with them, heading to the side of the rig with High Line, who opened one of the compartments. Inside lay the hydraulic tools, more powerful and versatile versions of those carried by ladder companies. There was a cutter, a drill, a ram and a set of spreaders, which could be used to push two objects away from each other through sheer, brute hydraulic force.

Blaze grabbed the tool, and lugged it over to the wreck. It was connected to the rig by a hydraulic hose, but a separate power source in the form of a small generator could be used if the tool had to be operated at a greater distance from the vehicle. It was heavy, but it was vital, and it was a very important piece of kit for the Rescue.

In the overturned car, a young brown mare was trapped, being crushed by the steering column and bleeding heavily from a head wound despite the bandages applied by paramedics who had stabilised her. One paramedic was in the back of the car, holding the mare's head in place to prevent further injury; there was not enough room to fit her with a collar for protection. Oak Wood had already added extra wooden cribbing to underneath the car in order to keep it stable during the extrication process.

Blaze had operated at many vehicle accidents when he had been working on ladder trucks, and he knew exactly what to do. So did the rest of the crew, and it was a well-oiled operation. Nothing less would be expected from the Rescue Company. Flagstaff raised a magic shield between the mare and the steering column to protect her in case of any sparks or flying debris. Blaze handed off the spreaders to High Line, who worked his way into the confined space of the car and positioned them. The tool went to work, expanding under hydraulic pressure and forcing the steering column up and away from the mare's trapped legs. Once that was done, the paramedics went in for additional treatment while High Line gave the spreaders back to Blaze. 

At Grey Spike's direction, Blaze proceeded to cut away at the side of the car, popping the rear door and allowing Oak Wood to remove it entirely. Fairway then brought an air chisel from the rig, and used it to cut through the side post of the car that lay between the doors. Blaze then had the task of the delicate removal of the driver's door so that the victim could be freed. Once again Flagstaff provided a shield for protection, and Blaze went to work, popping the door open, and once it was removed, the paramedics were able to carefully remove the unfortunate victim with the assistance of other fireponies, placing her on a backboard and stretcher and taking her to one of the waiting ambulances. The Battalion Chief who had arrived on the scene approached the crew as they were packing up their gear.

'Alright, Rescue can take up. Nice job everypony.'

Ember Blaze couldn't help but grin to himself. Nice job, Rescue. Nice job, himself. He had started some small way down the path to proving himself worthy of a place on the company. It was only one call, yes, but it was a start. There would be more, no doubt. There would be more.