Page 5 of Igniting Her

Cassie went very still. “Negative. Hold your position until Teak confirms roof conditions.” Flame pulsed behind the east windows. The glass failed with three sharp booms, and fresh air drove into the building.

“Captain,” Ridge said, “if it reaches the solvent storage⁠—”

“I am aware of what’s stored in my building. Hold your position.” My building. My crew. My decision. Static answered. Cassie could see it without seeing: Ridge crouched behind the nozzle, reading the orange movement overhead, calculating distance and flow and how far she could push before conditions turned. “Engine 12 Attack, acknowledge.”

“Holding,” Jamie said.

Not Ridge.

Flame pushed through the broken windows. Heat crossed the service road hard enough to tighten the skin on Cassie’s face, carrying the chemical stink of burning insulation and marine paint. Water arced over the roof from the exposure line and came down black. Cassie heard all of it and reduced it to what could be used. Wind: southwest, pushing fire away from the occupied marina office for now. Roof: lightweight steel truss, still intact, clock running. Interior personnel: four. Accountability board: complete. Water supply: stable.

Ridge: beyond the position she’d been given.

Command required Cassie to hold every possible failure in mind without mistaking possibility for fact. She couldn’t afford hope, panic, or preference. She dealt in conditions, resources, and time.

Jamie’s microphone keyed open for two seconds. Water struck concrete. Someone breathed hard. Ridge called something Cassie couldn’t make out, and then the channel went dead again. There was no emergency to act on. Only an absence her mind was far too eager to fill. “Engine 12 Attack, status.”

Ridge answered at once. “Repositioning. We’re good.”

Cassie released a breath through her nose. “Keep your radio traffic clear and useful.”

“Understood, Captain.” The reply was properly subdued. Cassie could hear the grin underneath it. She wanted to discipline the woman. She also wanted to see that grin unobscured by smoke. The second impulse was so unwelcome that Cassie buried it beneath another assignment. Search reported the roof clear and overhead space open. Cassie released Attack to advance with Search close behind. They moved fast. Too fast.

Ridge’s radio clicked live with the roar of water behind it. “Seat of the fire located. East storage. Beginning attack.”

Cassie checked the timer. They shouldn’t have reached the room yet. “Engine 12 Attack, confirm location.”

“East storage.”

“You were ordered to advance with Search.”

“Search is ten feet behind us.” Ten feet could become a body length. A body length could become a wall of flame. A wall of flame could become twelve years of asking what command was worth when someone you⁠—

Cassie cut the thought off. “Engine 12 Search, close the gap. Engine 12 Attack, do not advance farther.”

“Copy,” Ridge said. The fire darkened briefly behind the windows, then brightened again. Cassie ordered ventilation delayed until the attack line had the seat. Ridge called for more pressure. Mo adjusted at the panel. The engine’s pump changed pitch. Then the orange in the east windows folded inward.

“Pier Four Command, Engine 12 Attack. Main body knocked down. Checking for extension.”

Relief hit hard enough to weaken Cassie’s knees. She despised the response and converted it into a radio transmission. “Engine 12 Attack, copy knockdown. Hold until Search opens the wall.”

This time Ridge answered immediately. “Copy, Captain.”

Crews completed the primary search, clear, and spent the next forty minutes chasing fire through insulation and stacked shelving. HazMat confirmed the solvent containers had been exposed to heat but remained intact. No civilians. No injuries. The warehouse could be repaired.

By 3:31, the incident had become overhaul, wet gear, and reports. Ridge emerged with the nozzle over one shoulder, face smeared with soot and loose strands of light brown hair plastered to her temple. She passed the line to Jamie and looked toward Cassie. She was waiting for something. Praise, perhaps. Or punishment delivered hot enough to fight. Cassie gave her neither. She met Ridge’s eyes, then looked deliberately toward the crosslay waiting to be repacked. The brightness in Ridge’s expression went out. She turned away without being told.

Cassie watched her join Teak. Ridge’s shoulders stayed rigid, as if she were waiting for the reprimand to follow her across the yard. It didn’t. By the time she reached the engine, her mouth had gone flat. The silence had done exactly what shouting wouldn’t: given Ridge nothing to push against. Cassie said nothing, not Ridge’s name, not the reprimand crowding behind her teeth. She turned to the battalion chief and kept the silence intact. It was safer than trusting what might come out in her voice.

At the station, they backed the apparatus into the bay and reset it for the next call. Contaminated hoods were bagged for cleaning. Air cylinders were replaced. Hose was washed and hung. Tools went back into their compartments in the correct order. Everyone moved more slowly now, the night’s adrenaline draining into hunger and fatigue.

Ridge worked without speaking. That, more than the warehouse, told Cassie how angry she was. At 4:15, Cassie called the crew to the long table. Nobody brought coffee. Ridge sat opposite her, arms loose at her sides, chin up. The posture was respectful enough to survive formal review and defiant enough to communicate everything else. Cassie rested both hands on the back of an empty chair. “You want to tell me what that was?”

Ridge’s eyes met hers. “Aggressive interior attack.”

“No. Aggressive interior attack is a strategy selected by incident command. What you demonstrated was an inability to distinguish an instruction from an opening bid.” The room went silent around them.

“The fire was moving toward the solvents,” Ridge said. “We had a charged line and a clear path to cut it off.”