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Petty Officers 1st Class Roberts and Khan double checked that all the newbies were kitted-up correctly and gave Sean a nod when they were satisfied.
“Good. Now let’s go put the wet stuff on the hot stuff, boys and girls,” he said before securing the face shield to his oxygen breathing apparatus. They double-timed it through the ship’s narrow decks and hatches, the general announcing system blaring a warning about the fire, until they finally reached the aft engine rooms.
And that’s where they found the enemy.
Sean’s mind cleared of everything except fighting the fire. He turned to his team. “It’s showtime, people,” he said through the voice amplifier on his mask. “We find and evacuate victims, analyze the nature and spread of the fire, remove any combustibles, and get it nice and wet. Heads in the game. Let’s go.”
He and his team poured into one of several connected compartments where the main propulsion systems, boilers, generators, and auxiliary machinery were located, the first of the DC-men fanning out to conduct search and rescue, the ones coming in next continuing on. The smoke was thicker here but at least the fire hadn’t spread this far.
Leaving a few of the others to complete a sweep of that space, he led a group into the next compartment. Sean nearly tripped over a sailor sprawled across the floor. “We’ve got a vic here,” he called, stepping out of the way so that the others could clear the hatch while he knelt to assess the sailor, who had burns on his face, arms, and hands. At Sean’s touch, the guy’s eyes rolled open and he mumbled something Sean couldn’t make out. “Hang in there, seaman.” Sean peered over his shoulder. “Keaton, over here.”
Flames crawled through the far hatch and up the bulkhead.
Ah, so there it was—the boundary of the fire. Now they just needed to keep it there. I’m coming for you, motherfucker, he thought.
“What do you need, Chief?” Keaton asked. He was one of the newbies and assigned to first aid for this incident.
“Get him out to the passageway,” Sean said, waving over another of the men on first aid duty.
Sean hustled further in, passing two more victims who were already being assisted, and crossed into the fire zone in the third compartment, which was where things got dicey. They had a Bravo fire on their hands, which referred to the combustible liquid fire roaring in front of them from what appeared to be leaking fuel oil. The heat was so intense he could feel it through his gear.
Taking a further moment to assess the extent of the fire, he rounded the wreckage of equipment to see a gaping hole pouring out thick smoke and flames into the room. This was likely the source of the shudder that apparently everyone else on the ship had felt except him. And what he saw here was bad news. Leaks were spraying out and catching fire, turning into a spray fire that meant—fuck a duck—that this mofo wanted to spread.
“Get two lines going,” he shouted to his team leader, who directed the nozzlemen and hosemen into position. When they had the hoses manned and pumping water into the heart of it, Sean kept a close eye on the teams and stepped in to advise the nozzleman working the spray fire on where to best focus to try to rein this bitch in. The last thing they wanted was to lose control of it, and Bravo fires were notoriously volatile. Using his wireless comms, he called in an initial report regarding the location and nature of the damage to the fire marshal and Damage Control Central.
Beneath some debris, Sean spotted another victim. Carefully, he lifted off pieces of metal to free the man. Suddenly, Keaton was right by his side and lending a hand, and then they were joined by Jackson, one of his most experienced controlmen. The unconscious sailor had burns all down his front, but what worried Sean was the impact injuries they couldn’t see.
“I’ll go get a spine board,” Keaton called out over the roar of the hoses and the flames, but before Sean could respond, he was already taking off. Sean appreciated the kid’s quick response and initiative, because his gut was telling him they might not have much time.
Jackson gave him a look that said she knew it, too. “I can handle this from here, Chief.”
Nodding, he made for the guys manning the hose. Their efforts were just barely keeping the fire on the liquid pool side under control, but despite all the water they were shooting at this sucker, the spray fire appeared pretty damn close to a lost cause. He watched them work for a few more minutes when the smoke and flames cleared just long enough for him to spot several oil drums lined up against the far bulkhead. And that was when he decided that shit was about to get critical.
