'Progress report for Hooflyn 7th Alarm, Box 0904. Car 3 has a fire on board a 1000ft-by-300ft dry-docked aircraft carrier. We have fifteen lines stretched and in operation. Four tower ladders are set up for transporting supplies and personnel. Primary searches are still ongoing on all decks. At this time we have a total of two hundred and fifty six 10-45s, codes will follow. We have heavy fire on the hangar deck, not yet darkening down. Fire is still doubtful, K.'
Rescue 1 pushed deeper into the interior of the Canterlot. They had a definitive task to carry out, and if there was one thing that could define the Rescue Companies of the MFD, it was the determination to get the job done. The search rope laid by Ladder 145 guided them through the corridors and to the door that led to the galley freezer. Their helmet mounted torches cut through the darkness; the power had gone out as a result of the fire, or perhaps the decks where work was not being conducted had been disconnected from the grid by the construction crews. The smoke hung fairly thickly at the top of the passageway, but it was not enough to interfere with the operation.
'Alright, this it the spot,' the Captain of 145 informed the Rescue, his voice muffled by his mask but still audible. They directed their flashlights toward the door, revealing deep scoring marks on the hinges where the Ladder Company had tried to cut through with their saw, with no effect. Grey Spike tried the door just in case, but it wouldn't budge. It was thick steel, designed to hold the internal temperature at a suitably low level in which to store frozen food. Normally it could be opened from the outside, but it also had an interior handle so that anypony who found themselves trapped inside through negligence or accident could get themselves out, and not find that they were trapped inside a sub-zero environment with no protective gear. Evidently, either one of the ponies who had taken refuge inside had locked the door in the mistaken belief it would help keep the smoke out, or something, a body, a crate or a shelving rack, had fallen against the door mechanism and was jamming it.
'We tried to cut the hinges but our saw blade busted,' the Ladder officer added. 'Better give it a try with yours, Captain.'
'Right.' Grey Spike nodded. 'Flagstaff, any chance of shifting it with telekinesis?'
'I'll try it, Cap,' she replied, standing by the door. Her horn glowed where it protruded from between her mask and her helmet, and the door groaned and creaked as her magic tried to manipulate it, either to open it or to pull it free of its hinges. But the door was sturdy and heavy, and Flagstaff's horn stopped glowing. 'No good, Cap. I can't shift it,' she replied.
'Then we'll get to work with the saw,' Grey Spike replied. 'Blaze, make the cuts. Take out those hinges. Fairway, spot for him.'
'Yes, Cap!' Blaze replied, getting the saw down from his back and preparing it for use. Fairway moved in to keep an eye on proceedings and prevent any dangerous conditions from occurring during the operation. The power saw would give off sparks and would also emit fumes, as it was petrol-driven, powered by a gasoline reserve. The Rescue had other special saws for when air quality had to be maintained or when sparks would be a fire hazard, but that wasn't the case here. The hallway was already full of smoke, and it was made of metal, with no furnishings; there was nothing that could burn.
Blaze started up the saw, almost deafening in the confined space of the narrow passageway despite their helmets and protective hoods. He positioned it, and Fairway gave a nod that everything looked good. Blaze began to cut, pressing the rapidly-spinning saw blade against the thick upper hinge of the door with an almighty screech as the diamond-tipped blade began to slice through. Sparks poured from the cutting site as the other fireponies looked on, waiting.
'Rescue 1 to Command, we are at the freezer door, attempting to make entry with the saw, K,' Grey Spike spoke into his radio, relaying their efforts to the command post outside. Their radios had been busy with messages from other companies and sector commanders, keeping the chiefs in charge informed of exactly what was going on inside the ship. There were several hundred fireponies operating, some involved in rescues, some in fighting the blaze. All of them were in possession of facts unavailable directly to the chiefs outside; the exact conditions they were facing in the interior of the burning ship.
Blaze kept the saw firmly in position, and the blade cut through the hinge soon enough. He moved it down to the lower hinge, getting another approving nod from Fairway, and started the second cut. It ate up precious seconds, as anypony trapped inside the freezer must have been completely out of air, given the state of the passageway and the smoke that rolled through it. But maybe there was a chance for them, if they could be extricated. Maybe the medics could do something, save one or two of them, with medicine or with magic.
The hinge gave way, and Blaze and Fairway backed up. The other fireponies had kept a safe distance throughout the operation, and it was just as well, for with a brief telekinetic tug from Flagstaff, the door fell outward into the passageway with a loud clang. They were through.
'Oak Wood, High Line, get in there!' Grey Spike ordered. The Captain of Ladder 145 send his ponies in as well. Blaze peered in through the doorway, his torch playing across the scene. There were ponies in there; bodies? Or were they alive, clinging to life despite everything? The fireponies checked them.
'Six casualties, Cap!' Oak Wood called. 'We'll get them out.'
'Right! Bring them out,' Grey Spike confirmed. The fireponies picked up the poor, unconscious victims. Workers, who had sought refuge from the smoke and the fire. Seeking salvation, they perhaps had sealed their fate. They were carried on the backs of the fireponies, and they reversed their course, back down the search rope. Blaze took the saw and followed them out to the exterior of the ship, back into the light and the air.
The victims went down the ladders to the triage area, but the Rescue Company's job was not over. 'Check your air meters!' Grey Spike ordered, as Blaze ripped his mask off. He checked his gauge; he had 25 minutes left, according to the readout. 'Anypony under ten minutes, go get a fresh cylinder from the rig,' the Captain added. 'We're going back in. Command says the forward paint lockers and the anchor room have not been searched yet. We'll check them.'
Blaze was fine for the air requirement. So were the rest of the crew, and once those who had carried victims returned up the ladder, they were ready to head back in once again. There were large numbers of workers who were still unaccounted for. They may be in a safe area, some may have already left the ship. But others may be trapped by the flames, or overcome by smoke in some remote compartment. The fireponies' job would not be done until the fire was out and every single compartment and passageway had been thoroughly searched, from the bilge to the flight deck and from the anchor room to the stern rail.
Once they were ready, Rescue 1 and Ladder 145 re-entered the ship, and re-entered the smoke. As they headed forward, the smoke became thicker and hotter. They must be directly over the fire. The deck underhoof felt very warm, even through their boots. The fire itself was reported to have started on the hangar deck, which was the next deck down. Whether any progress had been made on containing and controlling it, Ember Blaze didn't know, but either way residual heat in the metal structure of the ship would linger for many hours, if not days, after extinguishment. Watch lines would have to be kept ready during the long overhaul process, and perhaps, the grim task of removing hundreds of bodies.
How many of those who could still be saved would actually survive depended now on the timely actions of the Rescue and the dozen or so truck companies that were assigned to searches. Workers could be anywhere below deck, trapped behind doors, unconscious in the passageways, on ladders or slumped again bulkheads. In the half-light provided only by their torches, it would be very difficult to see any further. Illumination from magic would have the same problem; the smoke would prevent seeing anything beyond it.
It was for situations just such as this that each Rescue and each Ladder Company were issued a thermal imaging camera. This hoof-held gadget could penetrate the smoke and haze using infra-red radiation, allowing the firepony carrying it to essentially see that which nopony else could. It could be used to search heavily charged rooms for bodies, or to detect hidden fire in walls, ceilings or other recesses by identifying the heat signature that caused changes in the temperature of surrounding surfaces. It was a fairly recent, but very welcome, addition to the fireponies' arsenal of technology.
Grey Spike carried the Rescue's thermal camera, as it was normally assigned to the officer. He scanned it from side to side whenever they entered a new compartment or passageway. Twice it encountered a body, distinguishable against the background by virtue of being, perversely, cooler than its surroundings. In normal circumstances that would be a bad sign, and indicate that the pony was sure to be dead, if its body temperature had dropped significantly. But this fire had not been burning for long enough for dead ponies to have started cooling; instead it was by virtue of the fact that the floor upon which they were standing, and the bodies were lying, was heated significantly by the energy of the intense blaze burning beneath them.
The bodies were removed down the search rope to the open air by the Ladder Company in the hopes that EMS could save them. Meanwhile, the Rescue pushed on. The anchor room was right at the front of the vessel, and as they progressed on the hull began to narrow, by virtue of it coming to a point at the bow. At a branch in the passageway, a sign was just readable on the wall; two arrows, one pointing right and one straight ahead, indicated the paint lockers and for'ard anchor room, respectively.
'Alright, we split up here,' Grey Spike ordered. 'Oak Wood, High Line, with me. We'll check the paint lockers. Flagstaff, High Line, Blaze, check the anchor room. We only need a primary search, then meet back here.'
'Got it, Cap!' Flagstaff nodded. While she was just a firepony like the others, she was considered to be the second in command of this particular shift, by virtue of her longer service, experience, and unicorn abilities. If the Rescue was forced to split its resources at any operation, then she would generally be in charge of whoever Grey Spike was not directly supervising.
Flagstaff led the way, her helmet torch and glowing horn lighting the passageway and helping guide the others. Blaze followed behind her. Search work was something he was familiar with from his time spent in several Ladder Companies during his career. It was tedious, but it was rewarding, every time a victim was found and removed to the hospital; assuming they survived, at least.
The trio of fireponies reached the anchor room. Flagstaff checked the door with her hoof; it was cool. No fire beyond it. She spun the wheel to open the door, pushing on it and stepping through, over the high coaming and into the compartment beyond. Blaze followed, and High Line brought up the rear.
The anchor room was fairly large, containing the windlasses for the two for'ard anchors, great metal beasts that let slip with a feral roar of chain through the hawse-holes whenever they were released. Despite the vast bulk of the ENS Canterlot, the two bow anchors, together with the two stern anchors, were enough to hold the ship in place when necessary. The chamber was a relatively good place to try and escape the smoke, since it had several direct openings to the exterior of the ship in the form of the hawsers through which the anchor chains ran. Whether any of the workers knew that was a different matter; these were not sailors on board, trained and knowledgeable in the layout of their vessel. They were workers; welders, pipefitters, riggers, electricians, carpenters. They did not have damage control stations to go to like the crew would. Their reactions in an emergency would be just as unpredictable as any other civilian.
'Primary search! Let's work through this compartment,' Flagstaff ordered. She turned the brightness of her illumination magic up as high as she could manage, and Blaze and Fairway set off in search. The compartment was thick with smoke, which was flowing toward the openings provided by the hawsers. Blaze went to the left, Fairway to the right, while Flagstaff held position near the door in case either of them got into trouble or found a victim.
Blaze kept one hoof on the wall of the compartment. That was the best way to navigate a compartment or a room that you could not see all of; it kept you oriented, and you could always follow the wall back to the exit in an emergency. With his other hooves, Blaze felt around for a body, for any sign of a pony. He kept on moving, feeling the anchor chains, metal, some equipment. His boots made it hard to determine sometimes exactly what he was touching; it lacked the tactile feeling of his bare hoof pressing against something directly.
He approached a small source of light; it must be the hawse-hole. He felt out with his hoof, and touched something. Not metal; something soft. He turned his torch onto the area, and quickly activated his radio, speaking into the microphone fitted to the inside of his mask.
'Rescue 1 Roof to Rescue 1 OV. I have a victim, left side of the anchor room!'
'Rescue 1 OV to Rescue 1 Roof, can you bring the victim to the door?' Flagstaff asked in reply.
'Rescue 1 OV, 10-4, bringing him out!' Blaze answered. He felt around for the pony's hooves. 'Hey, can you hear me? Fire department! We're gonna get you out of here, ok?' He spoke even though he didn't know if the pony could hear him, or even if he or she was still alive. Clearly the victim had been trying to breathe through the hole, get some fresh air in from outside, but that might not have been enough. The smoke had been drawn straight to the hawse-holes as a natural venting point, and even with their face pressed against the opening, there might not have been enough air to sustain life.
Blaze hoisted the pony onto his back in a standard firepony's carry, and felt his way back along the wall to the hatchway. Flagstaff was waiting, and the light from her magic revealed the victim to be a stallion, a black unicorn with youthful features. Clearly his magic had not been enough to get him out of the situation; only a few unicorns were strong enough to learn teleportation magic, the most sure-fire way of extricating oneself from a dangerous situation.
Fairway rejoined the others a moment later, having looped around the room and between the windlasses. 'No sign of any other victims!' he called out.
'Rescue 1 OV to Rescue 1, primary search of the anchor room is complete and negative with the exception of one 10-45. We're bringing him out now,' Flagstaff informed their Captain over the radio, getting a curt 10-4 by way of acknowledgment. The trio headed back to the junction in the passageway, where they were able to pick up the search rope. At Flagstaff's direction, Blaze followed the rope back all the way to the exit, and to fresh air, just as the five-minute warning began to sound on his air pack. Once outside, he ripped off his mask.
'Got a victim here!' he called out, and the two ponies stationed at the top of the aerial ladder made their way over to him to help him get the victim onto the ladder so he could be taken down to the medics below. Blaze climbed up and, assisted by the two ponies, he slowly backed down to the pier below. His focus was wholly on the victim and getting him safely down. No time to spare looking around, taking in the view, looking at the scale of the incident.
Once down, he picked up the unicorn again and trotted quickly to the triage area. A dozen ambulances were lined up, taking turns to load up two or three or sometimes four patients for removal to a hospital. Another five vehicles were parked up, their crews providing triage along with several supervisors' cars, a medical logistics unit, and the two converted buses assigned to each borough, the MERV and the MRTU; the Major Emergency Response Vehicle, capable of housing several dozen walking wounded or those with moderate injuries, and the Mobile Respiratory Treatment Unit, which could provide oxygen therapy to some forty civilians or, if needed, fireponies. Even as he approached the medical sector, another MRTU was pulling in, this time number 4 from the neighbouring borough of Princess. That was hardly surprising, given the report of how many workers were on board the ship. There could well be hundreds of ponies suffering from smoke inhalation.
'Got a victim here!' he called, and two paramedics trotted over. One listened carefully for the unicorn's vital signs, checking his pulse and breathing.
'Put him over there,' the paramedic ordered, gesturing with a hoof to an area with several dozen prostrate ponies.
'Over there?' Blaze asked, hesitating.
'Over there,' she nodded. 'Black tag.'