Report From Rescue Company 1

by BRBrony9

Canterlot

When it was launched some fifteen years ago, the ENS Canterlot had been the pride of the Navy. It had been the first of its class, the mightiest warship in the fleet. It was not Equestria's first aircraft carrier, but when it had been built, it was the largest vessel ever to be commissioned. It had relentlessly plied its trade around the globe ever since, dealing with brushfire wars in New Zebrica and the Dragon Badlands, delivering aircraft and ordnance wherever they were needed.

Now, after years of hard work at sea, the Canterlot was in dry dock in the Hooflyn Navy Yard, the same yard which had built her, for a major refurbishment and overhaul. There was a monumental amount of work needed on such a large vessel; the propellers needed refitting, miles of old wiring stripped out and replaced, rust scraped from a thousand places, corroded panels and gear swapped out for pristine new equipment. It was time consuming and ponypower-intensive, with many hundreds of workers needed to carry out the task.

The ship had been in dry dock for a month, and everything was going well, apart from the usual union trouble. Civilian ship workers shouldn't be working on a military vessel, they argued. Against contract, they said. Undermines the power of the unions, they claimed. It didn't stop the workers working, however- most of the time. Today was no different. Workers swarmed like bees over the ship. Pegasi floated alongside painting the hull or removing rust. On the main hangar deck, a cavernous space normally filled with aircraft and now filled with wood and metal scaffolding and supplies, ponies welded and scraped and hammered away.

Somewhere forward, near the front of the large compartment, welders were at work. Fountains of sparks arced out from their tools, spraying down to the steel deck below. Steel didn't burn, but rags and paper and wood most certainly did; especially if they were soaked in oil. There was a small pile of rags which had been used to wipe down the hydraulic pistons which raised and lowered the aircraft elevators. Through negligence or delay, they had not been cleared away, which placed them in the firing line of some of the sparks coming from the welding. It took little time for the rags to ignite, and less time for the fire to spread through the pile. Next to the pile were neatly stacked wooden pallets, and it was the work of mere moments for the fire to communicate to them as well.

Black, oily smoke rapidly billowed up, alerting nearby workers. One tried to combat the blaze with a portable extinguisher, but the fire had already gained headway and her efforts proved useless. The forepony in charge spotted the issue from the other end of the hangar bay; the smoke was hard to miss. He galloped to the compartment's internal phone and called the flight deck, where the restoration effort was being overseen from. His report of a fire down below was received, and immediately a call was made to base security. The Navy Yard had a small firefighting unit of its own, and both of their engines hurried to the scene. But by the time they arrived, the fire was going strong in the hangar, communicating to more debris and construction material, and the smoke was spreading fast. It was quickly noted that more help would be needed.

A call was made to the MFD, and units rolled out on the call of a working fire in a dry-docked vessel. A small fire, they figured. Just a precaution to call in city units. Maybe a little overhauling would be needed. Most likely routine. A first alarm assignment, four engines, three ladders, a squad company, Rescue 2 from Hooflyn, a couple of chiefs. Just a routine fire.

Ember Blaze stepped out of the shower, toweling down his mane. This was his second shift with the Rescue, and it still felt damn good to say that to himself. The first shift had seen him respond to another car wreck, one first-alarm working fire, and a ruptured gas main in the street. Routine calls, but ones on which the rescue was still assigned and could expect to perform some type of work, be it helping Hazmat seal the leaking gas pipe, securing and extricating a victim from the car, or conducting searches in the fire building.

Each twenty four hour shift was followed by forty eight hours leave, then another twenty four hours on duty, and then another two days off, a recognition of the tiring nature of firepony work, even on routine days. Mares and stallions were given plenty of time to rest up between shifts, as nopony knew when they might be called upon to make some heroic effort that demanded all of their strength.

Blaze headed out to the kitchen to grab a snack. Some tasty oatcakes had been brought in by Chief Firebrand's wife, Cherry Tree, who had spent most of the time in the firehouse scalding her husband for smoking his pipe at work, a vice, Blaze now realised, that seemed to be common among older fireponies. His father was not the only one.

Beep-Boop.

'Rescue.'

The snack would have to wait. Blaze turned and galloped out to the rig, hearing the housewatch pony calling out. 'Hooflyn Box 0904, Navy Yard, special called for a ship fire!'

In came the rest of the crew, and they climbed up. Fairway started up the engine, and out they rolled, looping round to the next avenue and heading south, siren wailing, airhorn blaring. Captain Grey Spike spoke into the radio as they rolled for the Ponyburg Bridge to carry them over the East River. 'Rescue 1 to Manehattan, leaving your frequency, going to Hooflyn.' He switched channels and spoke again. 'Rescue Company 1 to Hooflyn. On your frequency responding to box 0904, K.'

'10-4, Rescue 1. You are to respond to the Navy Yard entrance on South Street, where you will be directed to the command post, K,' the dispatcher replied.

'Rescue 1, 10-4.' Grey Spike sat back in his seat, checking the data terminal mounted on the dashboard. The data terminal provided information about whatever incident the unit was responding to, and allowed them enter their own signals of acknowledgement, to conclude an incident, or to announce they were back in service. 'Alright everypony...ship fire,' he read off the details. 'Fire below deck in the...hangar bay?'

'Hangar bay, Cap?' Flagstaff called from the rear seats. 'Shit...it's not the Canterlot, is it?'

'Unless you know of another aircraft carrier docked there, then I would say it's a safe bet that yes, it is,' Grey Spike replied. 'Well, I gotta say this will be a first for me. Never set hoof onboard a carrier before.'

'Didn't you go last year when they had the Luna in town for Fleet Week, skipper?' Fairway asked, as he swung the rig around onto the approach road for the Ponyburg Bridge.

'Nope. The wife decided we needed to visit the grandkids that week, remember?' the Captain replied. 'Never did get a chance to see the old girl first hoof.'

'That's too bad, Cap. At least you'll get to see this one!' Flagstaff added, before the rig began to race across the bridge, and Grey Spike peered out of the windshield.

'What the hell have they got going on over there...?' he muttered. The reason for his outburst was clear. A great pall of smoke hung in the sky above the Navy Yard. It was rising up steadily, obscuring the ship from which it was emerging. The Hooflyn radio channel was busy as they made their way over the river.

'Division 15 to Hooflyn.'

'Go ahead Division 15.'

'For box 0904, by orders of Deputy Chief Cinnamon Swirl, transmit a fourth alarm. Special call one additional Rescue Company, one additional Battalion Chief, and two additional ladders above that alarm, K.'

'Jeez...this sounds like a bad one,' Flagstaff muttered beside Blaze. 'We'd better hope there's no bombs or any shit like that on board.'

'The ship's in for refit,' Grey Spike pointed out. 'Gotta figure the Navy would remove all ordnance beforehand...but don't take anything for granted down there. Flagstaff is right. This looks bad.'

Blaze peered out at the smoke billowing from the Navy Yard. He had been at some big fires, a few fifth alarms and even one that ultimately went to ten alarms, when a stubborn warehouse had simply refused to go out for nearly three days. But a ship fire? He had never fought one, not a major one at least. This would be something new for him, and while he had received some training in the concept- all fireponies in Manehattan did, since it was such a major port- conditions had contrived that there had been no major vessel fires during his career. At least, until now.

The Rescue made its way down from the bridge and screamed through the streets of Hooflyn until they reached the gates of the Navy Yard. There, members of the naval security patrol guided them in, and they got their first glimpse of the stricken vessel. Smoke was pouring from the port side of the carrier, which was the side facing away from the pier at which it was docked. That was merciful, but it was only a small mercy. The wind was carrying most of the smoke away from the pier, but there was still plenty of residual smoke hanging and swirling around the pier, above the mass of emergency responders who had already arrived on the fire scene.

Three tower ladders were set up alongside the ship, their buckets raised to the flight deck. Half a dozen aerials were also positioned, and fireponies could be seen climbing up, and also coming down with victims. A tangle of hoses criss-crossed the pier. More units were arriving in behind them, and they were directed in to a staging area.

'Alright everypony, let's go. Tool up for ladder work until we're told otherwise. I'm going to report in to the command post,' Grey Spike informed them. Blaze and the others got down from the rig and grabbed their tools, fastening up their SCBA packs and helping each other out; a well oiled unit. Rescue 2 was already on scene, arriving with the first alarm, and another Rescue was coming in to back them up. Special calling so many Rescue Companies could only mean one thing- ponies were trapped somewhere in that ship.

Captain Grey Spike trotted to the command post, set up at the base of the pier. Deputy Chief Cinnamon Swirl stood at the command board, a large display board fitted with magnetic strips which represented the units assigned to the incident, and could be moved around to indicate units being used in different roles and different locations on the fireground. 'Rescue 1 reporting in, Chief,' Grey Spike called.

'Alright, good,' Cinnamon Swirl replied, without looking up from his board. 'I want your crew in there ASAP. We have large numbers of workers trapped all over this ship. It's a real shitshow in there. Gear up for searches and take your power tools with you. We have confirmation of half a dozen workers who sealed themselves in the walk-in freezer in the galley, thinking it'd keep them safe from the smoke. Naturally they're unresponsive now and the door is locked from the inside. Take Ladder 110's aerial up to the galley deck and link up with Ladder 145. They'll guide you in as best they can.'

'You got it, Chief,' Grey Spike nodded. 'Do we have a layout of the vessel?'

'What do you think?' Cinnamon Swirl replied, with a dismissive shake of his head. 'Classified, they say. Damn Navy bureaucracy. We're sending ponies into hell and we don't even have a map! When this beast came into dry dock I sent a request to the Navy Yard for my first-due companies to get a tour for inspection. Refused out of hoof. Just do the best you can, Captain.'

'Will do, Chief.' Grey Spike hurried back to his crew. 'Let's go, Rescue! Irons and power tools, we're conducting searches and forcible entry to a walk-in freezer. Six ponies reported trapped. Hustle!'

Ember Blaze grabbed the battery-operated power saw, while the rest of the crew picked up the forcible entry gear; axes, ceiling hooks, a power drill, and Hoofigans. The primary multipurpose piece of kit for MFD fireponies was the Hoofigan Tool, or Hoofigan Bar; a combination of a tough metal claw at one end, and an equally tough adze and slim, tapered pick at the other, invented by a former officer of the department and now commonly used all across Equestria by fire departments for its versatility.

All around them, fireponies were gearing up, pulling on their air tanks and helmets, eyeing the ship warily. Most of them had at least some big fires under their belt, but this was something different. This wasn't even a building, though it could be compared to a high-rise office building laid on its side. This was a ship, and that came with its own set of unique problems.

The fire had been burning for less than thirty minutes, and ponies were still being brought down the ladders. Searches for victims were the primary responsibility of ladder companies, and the Rescues, when not needed for specific technical efforts such as rope rescues or collapse shoring, would usually be assigned to operate as a ladder company for all intents and purposes, when extra hooves were required to look for victims. In a ship the size of the Canterlot, that was very much the case.

Ember Blaze's heart was beating fast, as it always did at a fire scene. But there was more than just a little hint of anxiety this time. There was no doubt that this was a big fire; a big, big fire. Even that wasn't the whole reason for his concern. Part of his mind knew that, the bigger the fire got and the longer it burned, the more companies would be needed to contain it and to relieve spent units. If the fire got big enough, then there was every chance that Engine 25 could be called to the scene, and while it was one thing to imagine himself entering this burning hulk, it was something entirely different to imagine his baby brother being sent in at the head of a hoseline. Surely his first working fire would not be something of this scale. No doubt his company would be too far away to be called in, or the fire would be contained, or they would find themselves already operating at some other incident.

'Let's go, Rescue!' Grey Spike urged, and the crew trotted to the side of the ship. A line of ambulances off to their left marked the location of the triage station, and the coloured sheets laid out on the ground to indicate the severity of the injured- green for walking wounded, yellow for moderate injuries, red for life-threatening, and black for deceased- were full of coughing, crying ponies in workers' overalls and hard hats. How many more might remain inside, Blaze had no idea, but it was their immediate job to find half a dozen of them.

Ladder 110 was parked amidships, its aerial ladder raised up as high as it would go, the full extension of the 100-foot ladder just about able to reach the flight deck if needed. This particular aerial was positioned lower, on the galley deck, which was where Rescue was needed. The ladder's chauffeur sat at the controls and beckoned them on. The two Pegasi were able to fly straight up with the heavy gear, while the rest of the crew filed on one by one and began the climb up the ladder. Blaze held the power saw on his back, clipped to his gear by fastening straps to allow the carriage of heavier equipment alongside the air tank. He shuffled his way up the ladder behind the Captain and in front of Flagstaff and Fairway, who lugged the drill.

Smoke billowed from seemingly every ventilation louver and hatchway, every porthole and loose weld, every opening in the side of the ship. To their left and to their right, adjacent aerial ladders were being used to evacuate workers, a steady stream of ponies with reddened eyes and blackened faces being ushered onto the ladder by patient firefighters.

Blaze reached the top of the ladder and clambered on board the ship. Smoke oozed out of an open hatchway nearby. That was where they were going, he assumed. Members of Ladder Company 145, one of the second-alarm units, stood waiting for them. Depending on the number of actual victims they found, their assistance would be vital.

'Rescue 1? Alright, you guys ready?' The Captain of Ladder 145 asked, getting a nod from Grey Spike. 'Then in we go. We already went in and rigged a search rope, just hold onto it and we'll get to the freezer. We tried gettin' through with the saw but no dice. Hopefully your saw can make the difference.' The Rescues carried more powerful saws with stronger tungsten-carbide and diamond blades, which might prove the only way of cutting through the thick steel hinges of the freezer door. The Rescue had to get into action, and help their brothers and sisters in the monumental task of clearing the ship of civilians. They were in the business of saving lives, and at Hooflyn box 0904, business was booming.