A city the size of Manehattan required a considerable amount of water to furnish the needs of its many citizens. A reliable supply had to be maintained, lest there be shortages, which had happened with a semi-frequent regularity during the centuries of its existence, from a small hamlet to the present metropolis. Though the city was surrounded by water, with rivers and bays all around, that was all salt water. The supply of fresh water had to come from many miles to the north, in the foothills of the Foal Mountains, and some hundred and fifty years earlier, an aqueduct had been built to channel water to the city.
As Manehattan grew, that supply proved inadequate, and so two giant pipes, underground tunnels running from the northern reservoirs and into the city, had been built over the course of decades, and it was these two pipes that now provided the majority of the city's supply for drinking, washing, sanitation, and, indeed, firefighting. But the city was not done growing, and nor was its thirst, and so a third, modern tunnel network was being constructed, to bring even more water down to Manehattan.
It was a vastly complex project, one of the largest pieces of construction undertaken in the city's history, with thousands of ponies working at various points throughout Manehattan and along the route of the tunnel that ran some sixty miles from the reservoir in the north. The main tunnel terminated in the borough of Princess, but branches were being built to feed the other boroughs. One such tunnel connected over to the west side of Manehattan borough.
At a construction site at 11th Avenue between 46th and 47th Streets, much work was underway. A wide shaft some thirty feet in diameter had been sunk down five hundred feet into the bedrock, a long and tedious process given the toughness of the schist upon which much of the borough rested. That was how and why there were so many tall buildings and skyscrapers in Manehattan- the thick crust of hardened schist was able to support the downward pressure of so much mass. Other areas in between midtown and downtown were not, as other rock types abounded there, which was why there were two distinct island of tall buildings in the borough.
Brick Bowl, the forepony, kept a watchful eye on proceedings. It was a complex operation, but a necessary one for the continued future growth of the city and its water supply. The shaft was going to be used to continue the boring of a connecting tunnel slightly west, into the West River, and then south to its eventual destination of the borough of Stallion Island, to provide water for the more distant parts of the city. The horizontal tunnel had already reached this point, pushed out by boring machines from the borough of Princess, but the nearest supply shaft was all the way back across the East River in that borough. A new shaft needed to be dug close to the West River in order to proceed any further with the digging.
That was what was happening now. Brick Bowl's ponies were well advanced in the process of lowering a kind of metal sheath into the shaft, a circular armature that would ring the vertical tunnel and be steadily filled with cement, between the metal and the bare rock, to line the shaft and provide it with sufficient strength and protection to be used for regular operation. The top part of the shaft had already been lined with cement, which was now curing, and the chemical reaction as it cooled produced copious amounts of fog-like steam, which meant Brick couldn't see down the full length of the shaft- not that he could have anyway, because no flashlight could throw its light five hundred feet down. That was why he had to rely on the sensors fitted which relayed information to his tablet computer, and also to the team of ponies insid ethe shaft itself. It was hard work, because the metal armature weighed a hell of a lot. As a result, three powerful winches had been set up, welded to the metal decking and securely fastened to the ground at street level. Together, the winches played out the heavy cables that had all but completed their task of dropping the sheath into place.
'Ten feet!' Brick Bowl called, peering over the edge and into the abyss of the tunnel. He glanced at the depth readings that were registering on his tablet computer screen. 'Five feet...just a little more! Steady now.' The winches played out more cable at a slow pace. The metal sheath was nearly at the bottom of the shaft. There were eight ponies down in the tunnel, helping to guide it and make sure it fitted into place correctly. 'Two feet...easy...' Brick Bowl muttered into the walkie-talkie he carried in his other hoof. 'One foot...alright, hold her there! How's it looking at the bottom?'
'It's looking good down here!' came the reply from Persimmon Lights, one of the tunnel workers, or sand hogs as they were known, wearing the name as a badge of honour. Some mining and tunneling jobs employed Diamond Dogs to shoulder much of the manual labour, but this was an all-pony operation.
'Alright, lower away, nice and slow, another six inches!' Brick Bowl ordered to the winch operators. 'That's it...down...'
'We're about six inches above now!' Persimmon called over the walkie-talkie. The metal frame had almost touched the base of the tunnel.
'Alright, shut down winches! We'll take a final site assessment from the shaft team before we finish lowering.' Brick ordered, and the operators complied. The heavy contraptions went silent, or at least two of them did. One of the winches began to groan and clang. Brick looked around with a confused expression.
'The hell's going on with that?' he called to the operator.
'I dunno, boss!' she replied, shrugging. 'Everything was working just fine. It shut down ok. I don't know what's making all that...noise...' Her eyes suddenly widened. 'Shit, get back! Hey, get back! It's coming loose!' She scrambled down from the controls. The winch, weighing several tons and the size of a small van, was attached to the metal decking with half a dozen hefty metal bolts. Now, under the strain of holding up the metal sleeve as it was lowered, the bolts were starting to come loose.
'Son of a...' Brick muttered, before shouting into his walkie-talkie. 'Hey, shaft team, watch out! We might have movement of the sleeve!' he warned. The winch continued to pull free, and with a ping of shearing metal, it ripped away from its restraints. The tension in its cables was released, and the heavy winch gear went sailing over the lip of the shaft and down, down, down into the depths below. There was the repeated clang of metal striking metal, and then a thud and splash as the winch dropped into the partially flooded tunnel at the bottom of the shaft.
'Shit...!' Brick breathed. 'Shit, shit, shit...'
Beep-Boop.
'Engine. Battalion. Rescue.'
'Everypony goes!' Ember Dawn shouted. It was a fortnight since his first shift, and this was his first turn as housewatch pony. He would still ride with the company, but when they were not out on a run he was responsible for greeting any visitors, keeping notes in the firehouse log about any runs the Battalion or Rescue received, and all the other administrative minutiae required in the running of a fire station that was not performed by the Chief. It also meant he was responsible for calling out the alarms as they came in, which meant he finally got to shout the words he had always had a quiet desire to bellow, because to him, they both reminded him of his father, and just sounded cool, a fitting tribute to the nature of the job; Everypony goes.
'Box 0614, 11th Ave between 46th and 47th. Construction accident!' Dawn called, before hurrying to the rig and pulling on his gear. The rest of the firehouse followed suit, and together, they rolled out of the doors, sirens blaring, cutting through the heavy noon-day traffic. To reach the site, they would have to loop around, heading across to 11th Avenue and then south down it for three blocks. The borough radio dispatcher was giving more details as they rounded the corner onto the avenue.
'Manehattan to Battalion 9, K?'
'Battalion 9, go.'
'Battalion 9, we're giving you the major technical response on this box. Reported to be some kind of machinery incident at the water tunnel construction project, K.'
'Battalion 9, 10-4,' Chief Firebrand replied. The dispatcher read out the list of units assigned, as the first-due Engine pulled up outside the fence of the construction site. The Rescue pulled in behind. A frantic pony was there to greet them.
'Hey, Chief!' he called. 'You'd better come talk to my supervisor, hurry!' He tried to usher Grey Spike into the site, but he shook his head.
'Hold up, buddy. I'm not the Chief. This is the Chief.' Firebrand stepped out of his SUV and affixed his white helmet to his head before trotting over.
'What have we got?' he asked.
'Oh, jeez, it's bad, I think. I dunno the details but...you'd better talk to the forepony.' He trotted inside quickly, and Firebrand followed, with instructions for the incoming units to prepare for some form of technical rescue.
Brick Bowl was pacing anxiously near the lip of the open shaft. 'Chief! Thank Celestia. We got a real mess here...' he muttered.
'What happened?' Firebrand questioned, noting the scoring marks on the metal decking nearby. Clearly something had dragged across them.
'We were lowering the form...like, a metal sheath you pour cement into, to line the shaft?' Brick explained. 'We almost got it done, all of a sudden, one of the winches just comes loose, goes flying into the shaft. We got eight ponies down there. I think when it fell, it must have damaged the elevator, too. Can't get them out that way. I dunno their condition but there's some damage down there for sure. We got a rescue team in there now, from the tunneling company? They're doing what they can but...we need your help, Chief. I dunno what the situation is down there, but I know we got ponies trapped.'
'Alright,' Firebrand nodded. 'How far down does the shaft go?' he asked.
'Five hundred feet,' came the reply that startled the Chief.
'Five hundred...well, alright...we're gonna have to work together on this one,' he added. 'Let me talk to dispatch.' He turned and spoke into his walkie-talkie. 'Battalion 9 to Manehattan, urgent.'
'Go ahead Battalion 9.'
'For Box 0614, transmit the 10-60. We have a machinery collapse at a tunnel worksite with eight ponies believed trapped down a five-hundred foot shaft, K.'
'10-4, Battalion 9.' There was the sound of the alert tones, playing over every active radio tuned to the borough frequency. '10-60 has been transmitted for Box 0614, 11th Avenue between 46th Street and 47th Street, for multiple ponies trapped in a shaft.' The dispatcher repeated the message, alerting all units in the borough that something serious was going on. A signal 10-60 meant a major incident or emergency, anything that might require either a large amount of ponypower, a lot of specialist resources, affect a large area, or all three. It was reserved for incidents such as plane crashes, major derailments, explosions, complete collapses of buildings, or any particularly dangerous or specialised incident, and saw numerous additional units assigned to the scene, even above those already responding as part of the technical rescue matrix. The incident at the water tunnel met the definition handsomely.
'Battalion 9, on the 10-60, you're getting Engine 26, Engine 65, Ladder 9. Squad 1. Engine 44 will be your Haz-Tech engine. Engine 3 will be your communications unit, RAC 1, and Division 3, K.'
'Battalion 9, 10-4,' Firebrand acknowledged, having made rapid notes with a pen and paper of which units were to respond in. They were just the additional units; a significant number of companies had already been assigned to the incident based on the initial report of a construction accident, and the 10-60 signal brought in a whole bunch more specialised vehicles and trained personel.
'Rescue! Bring ropes and hoof tools,' Firebrand ordered. 'Standby to set up for a rope relay and possible rescue operation. Engine 25, you'll be the first aid unit. Get your medical gear.'
Everypony set to work as more units arrived. Firebrand went over to the edge of the shaft to take a look for himself. There was a surprising amount of steam or smoke rising up, heavily obscuring his vision. 'What's causing the steam?' he asked. 'Is there anything hazardous down there we need to know about?'
'No, no, Chief,' Brick replied with a shake of his head. 'It's from the chemical reaction. Curing cement gives off heat, so it creates steam. There's nothing dangerous down there. We removed all of the explosives we used for blasting before we lowered the sheath.'
'Is the air breathable?' Firebrand questioned.
'Yeah, yeah.' Brick nodded. 'We have our own team down there now. They have masks but they don't need 'em. Neither will you guys.'
'How did they get down there if the elevator is out?' Firebrand asked. 'Pegasi?'
'No, we used the squirrel cage,' Brick replied, elaborating once he saw the curious look from the Chief. 'It's just a metal cage. See there, that crane, those cables?' He gestured. A mobile crane was in operation, and cables descended from its boom into the shaft. 'It lowered them down. If they find anypony down there, they'll bring them to the surface.'
'Alright. We have medics standing by,' Firebrand assured the forepony. 'I need to get a team down there to check it out.'
'I don't know how far your ropes stretch, Chief, but you definitely ain't gonna get ladders down there,' Brick pointed out. 'Five hundred feet to the bottom. I'd say you gotta send Pegasi down, or wait for the squirrel cage to come back up. We can help you load a team onto it and lower them down.'
'Alright, we'll do both of those things,' Firebrand replied with a nod. 'You said there are eight ponies down there? Eight workers?'
'Yeah, yeah. Eight of them,' Brick nodded. 'If the elevator's busted then there's no way they're getting out without help. None of them are Pegasi. All earth ponies, proper sandhogs.'
'Don't worry, we'll get them all out,' Firebrand replied. More units were arriving on scene, which included Division 3. Deputy Chief Misty Morning trotted into the construction site, giving him a nod.
'Chief. Eight ponies trapped down a shaft?'
'Correct, Chief,' Firebrand nodded. 'Right over there. This is the forepony.' Brick Bowl quickly filled in the new incident commander, advising her of the situation and the problems they might face.
'Alright, Chief Firebrand, you'll be in charge of shaft operations,' Misty Morning informed him. 'I'll have Battalion 6 take command of surface staging when they arrive. We need to get a team down into that shaft.'
'Yes ma'am,' Firebrand replied. 'Rescue 1 is already gearing up for it,' he informed her.
'I'll have them backed up by Ladder 7 when they get on scene,' she replied. 'I want you to ride that cage down with them and give me a proper status report.'
'Copy that, Chief.' Firebrand trotted back to his SUV to get his emergency life-saving rope and his SCBA. The forepony had said the atmosphere was safe, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Ladder Company 7 arrived at the scene with their second vehicle, a small van loaded up with extra gear and equipment. They were trained to a certain degree in specialist rescue activities, such as rope and trench rescues, though not as extensively as the Squads or Rescues. Nevertheless, they were well prepared to support the descent into the shaft.
When Firebrand and the ponies of Rescue 1 reached the shaft, the squirrel cage had returned to the surface. It was a metal cage some ten feet high and of a similar diameter, like an elevator car roaming free in the wild, suspended from cables attached to the crane. Three ponies in protective gear stepped out, and brought three disheveled workers with them. The civilian rescue team had done a good job, extracting three ponies from the shaft, but that still left five more down there somewhere.
Firebrand and Rescue 1 entered the cage, replacing the civilian team. Once they were ready and the cage door was closed, a signal was given, and the crane operator began to lower away. Ember Dawn watched pensively from the triage area as his brother and six other fireponies headed down into the shaft, into the bowels of the earth. Into the unknown.