When Fern stirred and opened his eyes, he couldn’t help frowning a little.
The ceiling was farther away than usual, and painted a sterile white instead of the plain wooden beams he last remembered. Light shone into the room from the wrong direction. The bed was stiff and uniformly flat, with no shallow depression for him to comfortably sink into. Even the blanket carried the unfamiliar scent of cheap floral detergent.
He blinked a couple of times as he waited for his brain to catch up and supply him with an explanation. Then, he glanced to the side and saw his duffle bags lying next to the half-empty wardrobe, and it all came back to him in a rush.
Oh, right.
He’d spent all of yesterday riding on a series of trains and busses, enduring seats that hadn’t been designed with his anatomy in mind. The final leg of the journey had seen him curled up in a particularly noisy and janky bus, watching the country nightscape dotted with flickering lights roll by until he hopped off onto the concrete sidewalk to face his new place of residence. He could barely remember dragging himself and his luggage into his dorm, let alone the name of the human male who’d let him into the facility.
His heart fluttered in his chest as he threw off the blanket and hopped off the bed.
First day on the job.
As a firefighter in an actual firehouse!
On his way to the bathroom, he spared a glance out the window, where the suburbs lay tranquil in the dim, blue light of pre-dawn, with the occasional rustling of trees or passing vehicle to break the silence. It was a nice change compared to the never-ending bustle of the city when he was in training.
After relieving himself and brushing his teeth, grooming was a relatively quick affair. Fern squinted at his reflection in the mirror whilst he used an electric shaver to trim down several days’ growth from his sideburns and neck ruff to keep them flush with the rest of his coat. He then tied the back of his mane into a short ponytail.
Once he’d finished washing up, Fern trotted back to his room and put on his station wear, which consisted of a short-sleeved, collared shirt and long trousers. The courts had ruled that uniforms for Equestrians on Earth didn’t have to include legwear, but HQ had issued him a full set anyway. Some humans still felt awkward enough around an alien without bringing their aversion to nudity into the mix.
When he exited his room, he nearly bumped into a stocky human male in the corridor.
“Oh, morning!” The clean-shaven man smiled and offered a hand. “You the guy they sent from HQ? I’m Eugene, by the way.”
Fern had to take a couple of seconds to rack his brain. He still wasn’t the best at recognising human faces, but he was pretty sure that this was a different person than the one who’d let him in last night.
Before things got awkward, he raised his hoof and shook the man’s hand. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m Fern.”
“Nice to meet you. Heading to the kitchen for some grub?”
“Yup!” He then blinked when he realised that he couldn’t remember exactly where that was. “Uh, about the layout of this place…”
Eugene grinned and snapped his fingers as he turned and walked down the corridor. “Got you covered, mate. Right this way.”
Fern trotted after him, doing his best to catalogue every room and office that Eugene pointed out on their way to the kitchen. Eugene also briefed him on a few basics of the schedule they kept and what Fern, as a rookie, was expected to know and learn on the job. He might’ve passed basic training at an academy on Earth the same as the rest of them, but that seldom translated to one hundred percent unit cohesion in actual practice, and so on.
Idle chatter reached his ears as they approached the dining room, which petered out into silence as soon as he and Eugene stepped into the brightly-lit room. All eyes immediately turned to him, and his ears tilted back a little as he waved a hoof at the rest of their company – two more human males, one of whom had significantly browner skin than everyone else whilst the other had pale, curly hair; a human female with long dark hair in a long braid; and a dragon.
Fern blinked. He’d been informed that there was a fellow Equestrian in this firehouse, but nopony had mentioned that it was another fire-attuned lifeform like him. She was bright red and almost human-like in her lankiness. The uniform helped cement that impression, too.
The dragon in question grinned when they made eye contact and said, “Welcome to the madhouse, rookie. Come, join us in our suffering!”
All tension in the room immediately evaporated as the others chuckled. Eugene huffed and said, “Damn it, Ash, do you have to scare the new guy right off the bat?”
“Hah! With him around, I’m no longer the whelp of the firehouse. You can bet I’m going to milk this for all it’s worth!”
“All right, let’s not overwhelm our newest probationer,” said the brown-skinned man as he gave meaningful glances at everyone else at the table. He then smiled at Fern and continued, “Don’t mind Ash. She’s just a little too excited about having someone less experienced on the team whom she can helpfully and lovingly instruct with all the professionalism that is expected from a firefighter. Isn’t that right, Ash?”
Ash snorted and folded her arms. “Yeah, yeah. Ruin my fun, why don’t you.”
The man carried on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I see you’ve already met Eugene. I’m Ravi, and these folks are Sigmund, Kelly and Ash.”
Fern waved again and nodded. “Hi, guys. I’m Sweet Inferno, but you can just call me Fern.”
Once the others had chorused their greetings and acknowledgements, Fern followed Eugene to prepare their own meals. He was eager to join the resumed chatter at the table, so he settled for stuff that didn’t take long to make—instant noodles with boiled veggies and eggs. At least there were some steaming-hot pies already up for grabs in the oven.
“So, how long have you been here?” he asked Ash when he sat down next to her.
“Almost a year.” She crunched on a spoonful of rice and gem shards, then raised an eye ridge. “Why? You’re not actually worried about what I said earlier, are you?”
Fern shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little excited about getting started.”
From across the table, Sigmund nodded sagely. “That’s the spirit! We’ve got a safety demo scheduled at the school next week, and you’re pretty much the perfect guy for it.”
That got round of chuckles from everyone at the table, which raised Fern’s hackles just a tiny bit. “Umm, is that something I should be concerned about?”
“Nah, quite the opposite,” said Kelly. “You’ll be a hit with all the kids. Guaranteed.”
That didn’t quite clear things up for him, until Ash leaned close and gleefully whispered into his ear, “Prepare for cuddles and petting. Boys like to touch my horns and scales, and some have the guts to ask me for a hug, but the girls are going to be all over you. Maybe even the girl teachers.”
“Oh. I see…” Fern busied himself with fishing up a bundle of noodles with his chopsticks and slurped away, hoping that no one would notice his ears turning red.
“Damn. How the hell are you doing that?”
Fern looked up and found Sigmund staring and pointing at his foreleg. More specifically, at the chopsticks he was holding in his cloven hoof.
“I know that ponies can do crazy stuff with hooves, but I would’ve drawn the line at chopsticks. How does that even work?”
Fern inspected his hoof for a couple of seconds, then shrugged. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it. We just pick it up when we’re foals and never give it another thought once we’ve gotten used to it. I mean, I guess it’s like how bipedals don’t have to think about not falling over whenever they’re standing or walking…”
Sigmund blinked. “Huh. Fair enough.”
“Can you teach me? I can never get them right,” Ash growled. “Those Chinese takeaway people were kinda let down when I completely bungled it up in front of them. I hate being a disappointment.”
“I’m not sure how much I can teach when we don’t have the same anatomy…” He wiggled both sides of his hoof, clacking the chopsticks together in emphasis. “But I’ll be happy to try!”
Ash grinned. “Sweet. I’ll owe you a solid for that.”
Conversation at the table meandered as they diverted their attention to eating, drifting back and forth between work and family matters. Fern noticed that Ravi didn’t engage in as much small talk as everyone else, apparently preferring to save his words for professional stuff. Kelly was similarly quiet after that one remark about Fern being popular with children, mostly spending her time looking at something on her smartphone and occasionally casting sidelong glances at him.
Fern managed to keep up with the others on various topics whilst working on his own food. Ash had the most impressive spread by far, which included chunks of crystal-laced rocks in addition to dry grains and what looked like a mug of motor oil. Typical dragon food, he supposed, until she took out a dark-green, glossy, translucent bar, which she heated up with a jet of flame from her nostrils until the glowing tip was soft enough for her to bite off.
“What’s that?” he asked as she mashed away.
“Chewing glass.” She waved the bar casually as she blew out a glowing, molten bubble. When it popped, she pulled the sagging remains back in with her tongue and said, “Uranium flavour.”
Fern sniffed, but didn’t detect any odour coming from it. “Can… can I try some?”
She arched an eye ridge. “Think you can handle it?”
“Pretty sure, yeah.”
Ash gulped down her mouthful of glass and pinched off the still semi-molten tip of the bar. She then grinned as she held it out to him. “In case it isn’t obvious for a non-dragon: don’t swallow.”
“Careful, Fern. Don’t get yourself hospitalised on the first day of work.”
Fern took the glowing chunk of glass with magic and nodded at Ravi. “Don’t worry, it’s safe for me.”
The hot glass instantly vaporised his saliva when he popped it into his mouth, and despite being somewhat malleable, it was far tougher and chewier than any toffee or glutinous rice he’d ever had. And it was hardening by the second as it cooled.
“Mate, I think you better spit it out before it cements your mouth shut,” said Eugene.
Fern huffed through his nostrils and gnawed away. “I got’f this.”
That’s it, feed that little spark.
Kelly raised an index finger. “Are you sure about—”
“I got thish!”
His fangs lengthened as his blood simmered.
Just gotta ride on that edge...
A whoosh like the sound of igniting gas, followed by gasps around the table, and Fern suddenly felt imbued with sufficient warmth to soften the stubborn lump of glass in his mouth. He chewed vigorously, bringing out a metallic flavour that prickled his tongue with tiny stings. It didn’t taste particularly great, but the warm tingling was nice, and he had enough glass to blow a little bubble of his own.
He didn’t stay fired-up for too long. Unlike transitioning into a full-blown Nirik, this form of localised heating took a bit of concentration and effort, like keeping a muscle tensed. As soon as the bubble popped, he grabbed the wad of glass with his magic and moulded it into a ball before dropping it into his bowl of soup, where it fizzled out harmlessly. A second later, his hair followed suit and returned to its normal state as he soothed his inner flame.
“Cool. Do that again!” Ash cried as Eugene and Sigmund clapped their hands.
Ravi shook his head. “Please don’t. You might set off the sprinklers.”
Kelly suddenly snapped her fingers and tapped furiously on her smartphone. “Oh, damn. Now I remember why you look so familiar!”
A pit formed in Fern’s stomach as the others leaned closer to look at the screen she held up. He had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what she was talking about, and sure enough, the forlorn synth, guitar bass and adolescent voice coming from the phone’s tiny speakers brought a fresh wave of heat to his ears and cheeks.
The phone’s screen showed a very familiar grey-and-blue Kirin and a pair of humans with guitars on a concrete stage, surrounded by dozens of cheering college students. Kelly then pushed up the volume, just in time for them to hear the music swelling and the Kirin screaming hoarsely into the mic:
“—so much more aware!
“I'm becoming this,
“All I want to do,
“Is be more like me,
“And be less like you!”
And then the Kirin’s coat promptly turned coal-black as his mane burst into bluish flames. His eyes glowed white-hot as he bared his fangs at the frenzied crowd, his voice drowned out by their cheers and screams.
Thankfully, the moment was cut short when Kelly paused the video, allowing the others to face him with varying degrees of glee, amusement and confusion on their faces.
Ash was grinning. “Nice. Can I hire your band to sing at my birthday party?”
“Less of a band and more a last-minute-entry into a talent contest.” Fern winced and smiled sheepishly as he gestured vaguely with a hoof. “Look, it was a phase, okay? Teenager-me had just completed the Passage of Silence, and when I found this genre on Earth—it spoke to me…”
“Hey, we’ve all been there.” Sigmund nodded sagely. “You wouldn’t believe the kinds of music I was into when I was your age. Not to mention the, uh, recreational substances I’ve tried…”
“Aww, and you used to be so fluffy,” Kelly gushed as she navigated the video’s timestamps for the parts with his mane and tail visible. “Why’d you change your hairstyle?”
“Lower maintenance,” he deadpanned. “You wouldn’t believe how easily it tangles and what gets caught in it. And with the humidity we have around here…”
Eugene shuddered and brushed his bristly scalp with his hand. “Yeah, say no more.”
“Well, that’s a pity. I think it looks good on you. Can’t find too many guys who can pull off a style like that.”
Fern perked his ears. “You… you really think it looks good?”
“Fern, it’s gorgeous. If you ever grow it out again, you should drop by my sister’s salon.” Kelly rubbed her hands together and cackled gleefully. “Ooh, what she wouldn’t give to work on naturally blue and silky hair like yours – she’d probably sell her firstborn son for an endorsement from you!”
“Umm…” Fern blinked and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s, uh, very flattering, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. She wouldn’t have to go that far, though…”
Kelly waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. My nephew’s a brat.”
From across the table, Eugene winced and mouthed ‘Can confirm’ at him.
“Don’t listen to them,” Ash cut in, smirking. “He’s got good taste in pranks.”
“And you’re a terrible influence on him.” Kelly folded her arms and shook her head. “Nothing we say can convince him that he can’t be a dragon when he grows up, and it’s all your fault.”
The others chuckled and uttered various noises of agreement under their breaths. Even Ravi smiled a little.
Ash sighed and pretend-whispered to Fern, “See what I have to put up with? I get blamed for everything.”
Fern laughed. It was almost like being back with his family in Equestria.
With breakfast almost done, conversation shifted towards routine matters, and things carried on in that vein all the way to the conference room. Reports needed to be prepared, requisitions submitted, equipment replaced.
Fern spent the rest of the day getting into the groove of things.
Their tools and gear needed regular inspection, testing and maintenance, from the chainsaws and ladders to oxygen tanks and radios. With Sigmund walking him through the standard procedures and checklists, he didn’t have to worry too much about messing up. Having someone to chat with on the job was also nice, especially when it came to more mundane chores. Those still existed, too; they didn’t have janitors, and the dishes and laundry sure as hay weren’t going to do themselves.
Timeslots were available for multiple seminars or training sessions during a workday, but with the operations cycle coming to a close for that season, the time was allocated towards catching up on paperwork and working out to stay in shape. Fern managed to get a couple of hours in the gym for cardio and magical weightlifting.
All in all, a pretty standard and boring day, if what Ash said was anything to go by. Fern didn’t mind standard and boring, and certainly not on his first day, but the universe apparently had other plans for him. He was just washing up after dinner when he heard the shrill ringing of a call coming in, followed by deafening silence when someone answered it from another part of the firehouse.
Less than a minute later, Sigmund’s voice blared out on the PA system: “Suit up, boys and girls. Emergency evacuation at the old refinery.”
Like clockwork, everyone dropped what they were doing and headed towards the engine bays.
“Lucky you. Real action on your first day!” said Ash.
Fern wondered if it was wrong to be excited about something that was technically a disaster for someone else, but his thumping heart didn’t care, and he couldn’t help feeling a little jittery as he donned his gear alongside everyone else.
Ash was the quickest, on account of barely needing much in the way of fire protection. Unlike the rest of them in their boots and heavy, long-sleeved outfits, she only had to put on a utility vest and shorts, plus reflective bands on her arms and tail. She didn’t even have a helmet.
“We tested it,” Eugene piped up when Fern opened his mouth to ask. “Her skull’s tougher than the helmets, and there’s no way we could fit one on her head without filing down those horns.”
“Which isn’t going to happen. Ever,” Ash finished with a snort. She then marched out through the engine bay’s door and spread her wings once she was outside. With a mighty leap and a couple of flaps, she was off. “Catch you guys later!”
Fern’s heart continued thumping all the way as the fire engine roared downtown. Traffic was manageable, especially after Ash had informed them of the clearest route, so they didn’t suffer too much of a delay navigating the older roads on the way to the refinery.
Ash’s voice crackled on the channel a few minutes out. “Guys, it’s bad. There’s fire coming from one of the processing units, and I can smell a lot of nasty stuff in the smoke. People are running around like headless chickens.”
“Hazmat?” Ravi asked.
“Smells like hydrocarbons—not sure what exactly. And no one’s talking to me,” Ash growled. Something crackled loudly on the radio, followed by faint shouting in the background. “I can’t find the plant manager. I’ll be helping with evac until you guys get here.”
She wasn’t kidding.
One glance out the window was all Fern needed to see the dark plume of smoke rising from above the treetops. And as they drew closer, the size of the facility became apparent as they drove past long stretches of fencing and cleared land. Smokestacks and floodlights towered in the dark of the surrounding countryside. Complex grids of metal piping and electrical conduits ran between several enclosed structures, many of which led to cooling towers or enormous storage tanks. One four-storey processing unit in particular had fire spewing from a gaping hole in its roof.
The company’s emergency response team had already set up water monitors to hose down the building, with limited effect since most of the roof was still in place to shelter the fire.
Everyone sprang into urgent, practiced action as the fire engine ground to a halt a safe distance from the blazing unit, and they all converged on the ERT chief’s truck to get a briefing on the situation.
A heat exchanger had exploded, and it wasn’t clear whether the emergency shutoff valves had properly closed the feed lines to it. The intensity of the blaze suggested otherwise, and Ravi was not happy with how they were unable or unwilling to say exactly what sorts of fluids were supposed to be in the processing unit, aside from them being quite flammable. The only thing for certain was that the unit was a gone case, and the plan was to get everyone out and hopefully stop the fire from spreading to the rest of the facility.
Unfortunately, there were still two people unaccounted for, and they were originally stationed within the burning unit itself, according to the workers on site. Ash radioed in and said that she was already going through the upper floors of the unit in search of anyone who might’ve been trapped in or close to the control room.
Whilst the others worked on controlling the fire, Fern, Sigmund and Eugene joined the ERT in search and rescue, performing a quick sweep of the processing unit’s ground level for the missing workers. They entered from the other end of the unit in full protective gear, with self-contained breathing apparatuses included, and gradually worked their way towards the fire.
Most of the black smoke was going right up through the hole in the roof, so visibility was only marginally affected farther away from the fire. The unit’s construction had a fairly logical consistency in the placement of machinery and support structures, so it was relatively easy to maintain their bearings in terms of the fire and the exits. The angry, orange glow and roar of the flames up ahead also made that abundantly clear.
The problem was that the machinery and piping provided a ridiculous amount of nooks and crannies for victims to hide behind or crawl under, which slowed them considerably.
It was too bad that they didn’t have a changeling on the team; a changeling could locate conscious victims just by sensing their fear, and he didn't know any spells which came close to that level of accuracy in proximity detection of lifeforms.
Still, they made decent progress in covering ground as the minutes ticked by, at least until they realised that the fire was spreading in spite of all the water they were spraying at it.
It started with a loud hissing noise, almost like a jet engine, with screeching undertones of stressed metal. A couple of seconds later, the orange glow up ahead flashed like the sun, and the entire unit shook as a shockwave of air slammed into Fern and his team. Radio chatter flared up as well, and it took them precious moments to settle and revise their strategy.
Ravi’s voice crackled on their radios. “It’s not just the heat exchangers anymore—looks like the product lines have ruptured. I’m calling it. Get out of there.”
“Wait, I see someone!” Eugene cried.
Fern glanced his way and saw him pointing at someone lying prone under an array of horizontal pipes ahead. Unfortunately, it was well within the critical danger zone, and it wasn’t clear if the victim was conscious, or even alive.
Air displacement from the explosion and the increased updraft from the resulting fireball had briefly improved visibility by drawing cleaner air into the unit from all sides, but thick, acrid smoke was rapidly refilling all of the space above head-height. The pipes provided the victim with some cover from the cinders and debris raining from above, but they’d have to cross at least fifteen metres of extremely radiant heat from the blaze to reach him – probably beyond the rating of their protective gear. Fern could already feel the heat just from where they were standing.
“Damn, that’s… that’s just too far…” Sigmund muttered. “I don’t think we can—”
“I’ll get them,” said Fern.
“You sure? Maybe we should call for—oh God, where’s Ash? Is she okay?”
Fern shook his head and marched forward. “No time. I got enough juice for this one.”
Ravi’s hesitation was palpable, even over the radio. “Fern, are you absolutely sure you can get in and out in one piece?”
“Yes.”
After a pause, Ravi sighed. “All right, but be careful. You withdraw the second things get out of hand!”
“Yes, sir. Copy that.”
After making sure that Sigmund and Eugene were retreating to relative safety to wait for him, he cast a blue, protective barrier around himself and advanced at a brisk walk, taking care to avoid going under anything that looked particularly prone to collapse—which was nearly everything overhead at that point. Not for the first time, he envied unicorns with the strength and skill to teleport even short distances, especially those who had ridiculous reach with their telekinesis. He only had an effective range of less than three metres when dealing with the weight of an average person for any appreciable duration.
Fern picked up the pace. The thermal and kinetic barrier had put him on a strict timer; the ambient heat was taking its toll, and he needed to reserve enough magic to carry and shield the victim back all the way.
Halfway across the distance, his boots splashed into puddles of steaming water – the remnants of either their attempts at fire suppression or leakage from the unit’s cooling system.
A gust briefly gave him a view of the victim again—the man was waving at him!
“Hold on, I’m coming,” he murmured.
If the man had shouted anything, he couldn’t hear him over the roar of the flames and the hissing of his regulator.
A flash of light drew Fern’s eyes upward, and he yelped when he saw flaming debris cascading down on him. His barrier absorbed most of the impact from the heaviest objects and prevented them from pinning him by bouncing them away, but it shattered before he could feed it more power, allowing the rest of the incendiary material to land on him.
He collapsed flat onto his belly, groaning as he shook himself and slowly staggered back onto all fours. Nothing was broken, as far as he could tell, but the loss of thermal shielding combined with burning material in contact with his outfit had set off the heat warning. It beeped loudly, increasing in frequency as his suit smoked and crisped.
Oh. Oh, crud.
There was molten material clinging to his suit.
He had to retreat.
But he was so close. Only a few metres to go…
Fern trudged onward, clenching his jaw as he felt patches of warmth reach his coat through his burning suit. The temperature warning system crackled and stopped beeping entirely. He trembled with each step as he tried to regulate his breathing, but his pulse quickened and his blood boiled.
The fire was trying to consume him? The sheer nerve of it!
More heat. More stinging as shrapnel pierced his suit and peppered his hide. His ears flattened as his world resonated with screeching metal, roaring fire, hissing vapour and shattering concrete.
He couldn’t focus clearly enough to redeploy his barrier.
Stupid fire, leave me alone!
A nearby pipe burst overhead, spewing vapour that partially engulfed him before flash-igniting into a torrent of flames.
That’s it!
Fern ripped off his breathing mask and detached the oxygen tank from his suit, then shoved them aside as he screamed back at the inferno. Lightning raced through his nerves. His muscles tensed and hardened until they felt ready to snap like overstressed cables. His skin felt raw and exposed. And then he saw the world in stark clarity of blues, whites and blacks when survival instincts took hold and unleashed his inner fire.
He burst into blue flames, incinerating everything on his body. Tail lashing, he stepped out of the flame torrent, itching to tear something apart.
Then, years of training kicked in, and he mentally braced against the wrathful storm threatening to carry him away.
Steady breaths... Breathe. Focus. Someone needs your help.
It took precious seconds, but reciting the Code of Balance helped to find his centre. And instead of indulging its ferocity, Fern embraced his other half – accepted it, redirected it – so that it had a purpose beyond mere destruction and self-gratification.
No passion without discipline.
No strength without compassion.
No freedom without restraint.
No victory without sacrifice.
Nirik and Kirin, we are one.
Fern drew in a deep breath and sighed as the seething fury receded to the back of his mind.
Nirik were technically classified as elementals, so breathing was more of a comforting reflex than a necessity. He wouldn’t have to worry about asphyxiation in his present state. Transforming also let him draw on more of his magical reserves, so he was able to levitate his breathing apparatus and keep it shielded from the ambient heat. The plastic had already blistered in several spots, but that couldn’t be helped.
The tattered and smouldering remains of his gear sloughed off his body as he resumed his march towards his target. His hooves left patches of blue flame and melted rubber on the concrete with each step.
The man stared as he approached and scurried deeper beneath the pipes when he got close.
“I’m here to help,” Fern said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Nothing he could do about his warped voice, though.
The man answered with a wheezing cough.
Then, he flinched when Fern levitated the breathing mask over to him. It didn’t quite fit his face and was probably filled with the stench of burnt rubber and plastic, but the man’s discomfort turned to relieved panting once Fern crudely tied the charred straps together and turned on the oxygen.
“Try to relax. I’ll get you out of here.”
More explosions could follow at any moment, so Fern didn’t waste time explaining. He simply wrapped him in a barrier and pulled him out from under the pipes. The man stiffened in his magical grip but didn’t resist.
“Curl up if you can.”
The man did his best impression of a foetus, which allowed Fern to keep the barrier at a manageable size – just large enough to accommodate him and the breathing apparatus. Fern also bore the additional strain of keeping a smaller kinetic dome above himself.
He grit his teeth as falling cinders, debris and droplets of molten material slid off their barriers like rain on a windshield whilst he retraced his steps towards the exit. A sharp ache had dug its way into the base of his horn, and it was slowly pressing deeper into his forehead like a gnarled root with every passing second.
The fire had spread through the upper floors and must have forced everyone to retreat farther away. With all of his personal equipment reduced to ashes, they had no way to keep him informed of further developments.
He just hoped that he wasn’t inadvertently walking into another death trap.
A couple more explosions shook the facility, but the bursts of smoke, flame and debris did not penetrate their barriers. The smoke and cinders didn’t hurt his eyes or lungs, either, aside from making him a little uncomfortable.
Eventually, they left the firestorm behind and emerged into relative darkness outside.
Fern’s horn was throbbing horribly by then, and the man wobbled unsteadily in his magical grip as he broke into a canter towards the flashing lights in the distance.
His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the gloom yet, and his thermal vision was not very good at distinguishing between all the approaching figures. They all balked when they got close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.
Then, he heard the beating of leathery wings a couple of seconds before Ash landed by his side. If the wings weren’t clues enough, her thermal profile was significantly brighter than a human’s.
“Come on, give,” she said.
Fern didn’t argue. He barely had enough time to lift the man into her waiting arms before his magic winked out entirely, and he lost track of them as he focused on dragging himself into the empty parking lot to cool down, far away from everyone.
He didn’t even flinch when he heard a crackling boom from behind.
Too much heat.
It wasn’t dangerous for him, but he had a lot of excess thermal energy to offload after soaking so much of it from an industrial-grade fire. If he wasn’t careful, he could fry someone just by standing next to them.
After a quick glance around to make sure that no one was nearby, he flopped onto his back and sighed as he slowly sank into the melting asphalt. Billowing smoke had filled the sky – hot, bright and angry against the backdrop of a cooler atmosphere, and he watched it churn and writhe like some abyssal leviathan whilst he listened to the asphalt bubbling around him.
His blue flames eventually petered out as he transitioned back into a Kirin, and his vision returned to normal. Then, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as pain sensitivity returned in full force, reminding him of all the stinging lacerations and throbbing bruises he’d acquired – mostly on his legs and shoulders. His horn still ached.
He focused on the sky – dark blue on the horizon, with a few stars twinkling. He tried counting them, but it wasn’t easy to make them out with most of the facility’s floodlights on.
A while later, he felt a clawed hand on his shoulder and found Ash crouching over him. She was stained black with soot.
“Is that… blood?” She narrowed her eyes and sniffed. “Oh shards, you’re bleeding!”
Fern groaned and sat up to get a better look. He did have a few wet streaks of dark red in his coat, but thankfully none of it was anywhere near his vitals. Going full Nirik had probably vaporised or melted off any foreign objects embedded in his hide and scales, so he’d saved them the trouble of having to dig them out. Also, the molten asphalt was doing a pretty good job of soothing and stanching his wounds. Most of the pain had subsided already.
“Just a few scratches. Nothing critical,” he murmured.
“Uh huh, sure. That’s what everyone says…” Ash batted his protesting hoof away and ran her claws through the coat on his barrel. After that, she turned her attention to all the major artery locations on his neck, shoulders and thighs, before she finally nodded and said, “You’re lucky these are all shallow.”
She then radioed the others and said, “Good news; our Kirin boy is okay. He just needs a little patching up and a time-out to recharge.”
“Copy that. Thank God,” someone’s voice crackled on the radio. “Come join us when you’re ready.”
“Did… did we get everyone out in time?” Fern asked.
Ash’s frown softened before reluctantly turning into a grin. “Yeah. Kelly found the last straggler passed out behind the building, of all places. Paramedics are taking care of him and your guy. HQ’s probably going to have a fit about losing all your gear on your first day, but you did save someone’s life. You did fine, rookie.”
Fern sighed and slumped back into the asphalt puddle. It was nice and warm, and he didn’t care about how it was getting into his hair and scales.
“Awesome. I need a nap,” he said.
“Later. We’ve got work to do.”
He rolled onto his side and turned his back to her. “Just five more minutes, Ma.”
“And they say dragons are lazy…” Ash snorted, then grabbed his hoof and pulled him up onto his haunches. “Come on. They finally isolated the fire from the feed lines, so now we have a real chance of putting out that sucker. Chief needs all hands on deck.”
Fern winced as he got onto all fours and plodded after her. Farther ahead, the rest of the team was already redoubling their efforts to douse the fire with roaring streams of water. It looked marginally smaller and less incandescent than he remembered – like an eldritch elemental retreating into the ruins of its lair, growling and hissing all the way – so maybe she was right.
Refinery workers stood a safe distance away, staring at him. Several of them were recording him with their phones, too. He worked up a smile and imitated the human peace sign with his hoof to let them know that he was okay – the last thing they needed was people freaking out about the fire department getting a pony horribly tarred and disfigured in the line of duty.
Ash had apparently noticed him falling behind and grinned over her shoulder. “Having second thoughts about your career, rookie?”
Her playful words brought a spark of indignation to life in Fern’s chest. His wounds still smarted, and he needed a little more time to regain the full use of his horn, but he could still pull his weight!
That spark grew into a flame, and he could almost feel the tips of his ears smouldering in anticipation of how wrong he was going to prove her.
“Hmph, of course not.” Fern snorted and grinned at her as they marched back to the fire line. “I wouldn’t have it any other way!”
Author's Note
I did try to be thorough with my research on this, but the rabbit hole of terminologies and localised practices was way deeper than I had anticipated.
My apologies to firefighters if I've butchered or misrepresented anything.
Update: new art of Fern!
