Beep-Boop.
'Rescue. Battalion.'
Ember Blaze tossed the newspaper he had been reading aside and ran to the rig, climbing aboard. Flagstaff, on housewatch, read the message.
'Box 7163, A/C/E Line at the bus terminal. Fumes in the subway!'
Battalion 9 was the first-due Chief for the bus terminal, meaning Firebrand would be in charge of whatever was going on. The Rescue was assigned because of the proximity of its firehouse to the terminal, meaning it fell inside its first-due area. The Rescue would respond like any other company to calls where it would arrive before the next closest unit, despite its special status. It had been back at quarters after being released from the apartment fire as their services were not needed.
The loop around to 9th Avenue to head south would only take a few moments, especially with Grey Spike leaning on the Rescue's air horn as he always did. Fumes in the subway were usually the result of a diesel work train passing through the station and leaving an unexpected smell behind in the otherwise completely electrified network. Such calls were not uncommon across the city. The dispatcher announced it over the radio, as the same location had already gone out for a medical run a minute or two earlier.
'Box after initial 7163, the A/C/E Line, Port Authority Bus Terminal, for fumes in the subway.' Before she could repeat the run, the dispatcher was interrupted.
'Engine 25 to Manehattan, urgent!'
'Go ahead, Engine 25.' Coppertop's voice was unexpectedly shaky, which made the crew of the Rescue exchange nervous glances. In an experienced officer like the Lieutenant, such a thing was not an encouraging sign.
'Box 7163, transmit a 10-60!' Coppertop ordered. 'Notify HAZMAT and PD Bomb Squad. We have multiple ponies down with no apparent cause. We may have a chemical attack in progress, K!'
Blaze looked at Flagstaff, with ice suddenly filling his veins, for two reasons. First, a major incident was apparently unfolding just a couple of blocks south, but second, his brother's unit was already at the scene, by themselves.
'Shit...' Grey Spike muttered, hammering the air horn even more urgently. Buses tried their best to get out of the way, but it was easier for Fairway to simply maneuver the Rescue around them, searching for any gaps in traffic. Once they reached 42nd Street they were able to race along to the junction with 8th Avenue, where the main entrance to the terminal lay. The dispatcher rattled off a long string of units that would be assigned on the major incident signal.
'...Hazmat 1 and the Hazmat Battalion, Engine 44 is your Hazmat Tech unit, Ladder 25 is your SOB Support Truck. Rescue and Safety Battalions, Rac 1 and Division 3. Battalion 9 received?'
'Battalion 9, 10-4,' Firebrand could be heard over the radio, following close behind the Rescue as they came to a halt. Ponies were still coming and going from the bus terminal, evidently unaware of anything going on below ground. Engine 25 was parked up nearby, albeit on the other side of 8th Avenue. What had seemed to be a simple medical call was now apparently spiraling into something much more serious.
The crew disembarked, and Firebrand approached them. 'Alright Cap, get geared up. Hazmat is gonna be a good twenty or thirty minutes out, so you're gonna be the initial entry team. Prep for level A suits and bring your meters and detector paper with you, but standby. Don't go down there yet. I'm going to get a report from the Engine first.' Firebrand got on his radio.
'Battalion 9 to Engine 25, K?'
'Engine 25...' Coppertop replied, a little breathlessly.
'What do we have down there, Lieu?' Firebrand questioned. He didn't like the reply.
'We went down to the A Line for a medical run, pony unconscious. We only stayed down there for a few seconds but I saw...uh, I'd guess...thirty, maybe forty bodies, Chief. No smoke, no obvious trauma. Just multiple victims down.'
'Son of a bitch...' Firebrand muttered. 'Battalion 9, 10-4. I want you and your crew to report directly to EMS when they arrive, ok?'
'Engine 25...10-4...' Coppertop responded. 'We'll, uh...we'll get checked out...'
'Battalion 9 to Manehattan with an urgent,' Firebrand put out the call.
'Battalion 9, go ahead.'
'For box 7163, based on the report from Engine 25, transmit a 10-60 Code 1. Notify Hazmat, EMS and PD that we have a mass casualty situation that may be a nerve agent release. Get Transit to shut down all trains on all lines at both the Port Authority Bus Terminal and Celestia Square.'
'Battalion 9, 10-4.'
A 10-60 Code 1 was an indication of a particularly serious emergency situation, even above the initial 10-60 which signaled a major incident. As well as the numerous units assigned on that signal, it brought an extra five Engines, 3 Ladders, 2 Battalions, another Division Chief, a third Rescue, an extra SOB Support Truck, the Air Recon Chief, either in a police helicopter or simply flying above the scene if a Pegasus officer was available, the Mobile Command Vehicle and a host of extra medical resources, vital given the potential for large numbers of casualties. On the report of a possible nerve agent release, two Mobile Decontamination Vehicles were assigned, large articulated trucks that contained showers for the potential scrubbing down of numerous victims, as well as the department's Weapons of Mass Destruction vehicle, specifically designed for this precise scenario. The truck contained almost nothing other than huge numbers of nerve agent antidote kits, a mixture of atropine and pralidoxime, medicines which together would counteract the effects of a nerve gas on pony physiology. The department had long since recognised the possibility of a terror attack on the city. Such things had taken place every so often across Equestria, with numerous incidents ranging from minor to serious. The possibility of a terror group taking or creating a weapon of mass destruction and using it against the innocent civilian population was always a nagging fear at the back of the minds of civil defence and first responders' minds. Could it be coming true?
Other units were arriving now, two ladders and another engine, as well as an ambulance. But if there were a minimum of thirty victims down in the subway, they would need a lot more than that. The main problem would be that it was unsafe to even enter the subway if there had been a chemical attack. A large number of casualties apparently unconscious or worse with no evident cause strongly suggested a nerve agent- and firefighting gear, even with a mask and air tank, would not protect a firepony from a nerve gas or vapour. Even in bunker gear with helmet, hood, boots and mask, some portions of a firepony's skin would be exposed to the air, and it only took one tiny droplet of nerve agent to be absorbed by the pores of the skin to cripple or kill. Airtight or vapour-tight Hazmat suits would be required to actually enter a contaminated atmosphere, but they were tricky to use properly and required lengthy training. Fortunately, one of the units already on scene had just such training.
Rescue 1, like all the Rescues, was trained in Hazmat situations. Before the development of the separate Hazmat Company 1 and Hazmat Battalion, formed as a result of a particularly tricky chemical tanker leak which forced a major bridge closure and threatened the potential for a huge explosion some 35 years ago, the Rescues were the only units with any kind of special equipment for dealing with chemical spills, leaks, and other incidents. Though Hazmat 1 had the primary responsibility now at such incidents, they responded with only 6 fireponies and an officer, not enough to conduct major operations. As a result, every Rescue, every Squad, and a certain number of designated Hazmat Tech engines were trained in rescue and recovery operations in a contaminated atmosphere, while an additional several dozen Chemical Protective Clothing Ladder Companies were trained in basic operations while wearing Hazmat suits. The SOB Support Ladders also had basic training, as did a number of special Hazmat-Tactical Ambulances, so that paramedics could operate inside a contaminated area if needed.
'Division 3 calling Battalion 9 on the 800Mhz radio, K.' Chief Misty Morning was trying to get in touch with Firebrand, and he leaned into his car to answer.
'Battalion 9, go ahead Chief.'
'Do you have confirmed victims at this time?' Misty Morning asked.
'10-4 Chief. Engine 25 had visual confirmation of approximately thirty to forty victims on the platforms of the A/C/E subway line,' Firebrand replied. 'I'm having Rescue 1 suit up for entry.'
'10-4 Battalion 9. I'm three minutes out,' Misty Morning answered, the siren of her SUV audible over the radio link as her driver tried to force his way through midtown traffic. 'Hold off on the Rescue until we get either the Squad or a Hazmat Tech Engine on scene to back them up.'
'Battalion 9, 10-4.' Firebrand replaced the radio and looked around to try and get a better size-up of the situation. It was almost impossible given the nature of the incident. It was hidden away below ground, with no clear view of the scene and no way to safely access it for the majority of first responders. There could be thousands of ponies in the transit system at just this one station, and thousands more in the bus terminal above. There was no way of knowing yet exactly what exactly was the cause of the collapsed victims underground, or, if it was indeed a nerve agent, whether it was airborne or simply a liquid which had been spread on railings or turnstiles, if the source of the agent was still present, or if those who had released it were still in the station. At this point, there were more unknowns than knowns.
'Battalion 2 calling Battalion 9 on the 800Mhz, K.'
'Go ahead, Battalion 2,' Firebrand replied, reaching into his car again to respond on the other radio set. Battalion 2 was acting as the Transit Liaison officer, who would respond to the Transit Authority's headquarters whenever there was a significant incident on the subway network.
'Transit have CCTV footage of the Port Authority station. At this time we appear to have at least fifty victims on the A/C/E Line, on both the northbound and southbound platforms. A train just left the station heading south. Transit has halted it mid-tunnel. PD have been notified and are responding to the 38th Street subway emergency exit to intercept it, K.'
'10-4, Battalion 2. Can you confirm with Transit that they are stopping all movements on all lines that service this station, K?' Firebrand asked.
'They're in the process right now of shutting down all train traffic, but I'll have to get back to you on that,' Battalion 2 replied. 'Do you want all lines shut down at Celestia Square also, K?'
'10-4. All lines at both stations, shut down all train traffic. Also make sure Transit is shutting down the ventilation fans on the A/C/E Line, K,' Firebrand added. The huge fan plants which normally pumped fresh air through the tunnels to help cool the stations and equipment and stop the atmosphere below ground getting too stale could also push smoke to another station in event of a fire, or, in this case, potentially disperse an airborne nerve agent to the next station down the line, another catastrophe in the making if it was allowed to happen. One station, or rather two connected stations, was more than enough to be dealing with. If this was indeed a terrorist incident, then the perpetrators could well be still on board the southbound train which had been halted, intending to set off a second device or spray more liquid at the next station, which was why police were hurrying to the subway emergency exit, from where they could gain access to the train mid-tunnel.
While Firebrand was trying to direct a dozen different things, juggling all the functions which, once an incident really got underway, would be delegated to other Chiefs or company officers, Captain Grey Spike was getting his crew ready for an entry to a potential hot zone. Ordinary fireponies lacked the gear needed to enter a contaminated atmosphere, and until Hazmat arrived, the Rescue was the only capable unit on the scene. Under department policy, they would not be permitted to enter the subway until at least one other unit- a Squad, Haz Tech engine, or Chemical Protective Clothing company- which was trained and equipped for the same thing had arrived. This was an extension of the HOOF Truck concept, where a dedicated unit was set aside to do nothing but wait around at the scene of an incident in case a firepony became injured or trapped and needed help. The same applied to water rescues- whenever a department diver was put into the water, an extra dive-capable unit was called to the scene in case assistance was needed, and the same applied again to Hazmat incidents. If an entry team member got into trouble in a contaminated zone, they could only be rescued by a firepony who was similarly equipped and trained, so a backup unit was always put in place.
Nevertheless, Ember Blaze and Flagstaff were being prepped for entry, and Grey Spike would put on the third entry suit. It was Level A protection, the kind of gear civilians sometimes referred to as space suits because of their broad resemblance to something they might expect to find in the budding Equestrian Space Agency, which had landed ponies on the moon fifty years ago but had not been back since. The suits consisted of an outer rubberized layer, completely airtight, with a self-contained breathing cylinder and mask underneath, and an inner vapor-tight suit in case the outer layer was penetrated. A large fog-proof visor provided some limited visibility, and a radio headset could be worn beneath the suit for communication. But the gear was cumbersome and not ideal. Protective suits that were less restrictive were available, but provided consequently less protection against potential threats. Such suits would be used by other units who were treating and rescuing victims on the periphery of an incident, and those operating in the so-called warm zone, between the heavily contaminated area and the safe area outside, or in this case above. An attempt to find and potentially deactivate the source of the nerve agent, if that was indeed what had caused the casualties here, would have to utilise the maximum protection available.
While Rescue 1 was getting geared up, Engine 25 were putting tape across the subway entrance where they had made entry to keep civilians out. Deep Blue and Dark Flash were taking care of that, directing civilians away with the help of a pair of police officers who had arrived on the scene from hoof patrol.
Striker and Dawn had stripped out of their bunker gear- they had entered a contaminated area and their gear would have to be thoroughly cleaned by a specialist team before it could be reused. More likely it would simply be incinerated. Lieutenant Coppertop had done the same.
'Lieu?' Dawn spoke up, coughing a little. 'We'd better go see EMS, right?' He looked at Coppertop, who was sitting on the side step of the engine. He didn't respond. 'Lieutenant?' Dawn repeated, putting a hoof on Coppertop's shoulder. He felt wetness; the Lieutenant was sweating profusely. Dawn took a closer look, and saw that he wasn't just sweating, but also crying- not sobbing, but merely with tears streaming down his cheeks from eyes with shrunken pupils.
'Hey, Striker?' Dawn called, wincing a little. he felt moisture on his own face, too. 'Striker? I think the Lieutenant...he's, uh...I think he's sick or...or...' Dawn stumbled against the side of the rig. Suddenly he couldn't breathe. Nor could he move, at least not in any coordinated way. His legs were suddenly weak, and so was his bladder. Now there was moisture running down his hind legs, too, as Striker was at his side, trying to support him. But Dawn's legs wouldn't hold his weight anymore, and he fell to the ground, almost at the same time as Lieutenant Coppertop slumped over and fell from the engine's step.
'Shit...!' Striker swore, fumbling with his radio. 'Engine 25, Mayday, Mayday! Fireponies down! Fireponies down!'