were still six blocks away a haze of black smoke was quickly accumulating up along the ceiling. It grew into a thick fog further down the street. Hundreds of people, many of them coughing and with soot on their faces, were rushing out of the area, making it difficult for Lisa to navigate the cart through them. 'Computer,' he asked, 'are any units on scene yet?'
'Negative,' the computer replied. 'I'm showing you as the closest so far. The next-in unit should be DPHS unit Delta-7. They are currently at 53rd Street and 7th Avenue.'
'Copy, thanks,' Brian said. He turned to Lisa. 'We'd better get our masks and goggles on. This shit is gonna get thick in a minute.'
'Right,' she agreed, reaching down and picking up her own mask.
They covered their faces with the gas masks, which were capable of filtering out all but oxygen and nitrogen from the environment. They then pulled their combat goggles down over their eyes, setting them for infrared enhancement, which would allow them to see through the smoke. It was fortunate that they did this because within seconds the smoke became so thick that visibility would have been impossible. The streets however, were now mostly empty of citizens. Martians knew their fire drills well, having been taught since birth that it was imperative to get into a nearby building in the even of a blaze on the street. Buildings in the vicinity were automatically sealed off and imparted with air pressure greater than the street level to keep the smoke out.
A block away from the incident the actual flames became visible as a roaring red pyre in the infrared spectrum. Brian and Lisa could vaguely make out the source as a vehicle of some sort, possibly a panel truck. Their computer informed them that the heat was building up and that it was safe to go no further without protection. Lisa stopped the cart and they got out, going around to the back of it to remove their suppression suits, which were essentially coveralls made of bright yellow, synthetic, fire-proof material that did not conduct heat very well. As they put them on, Brian contacted the dispatch computer again. 'Who's in command of this incident?' he asked.
'Battalion Chief 9 of DPHS,' the computer told him. 'She is still several kilometers away.'
'Copy,' Brian said, sliding his arms into the sleeves. 'Battalion 9, this is EPD four-delta-five-nine.'
'Go ahead, delta-five-nine,' said the husky voice of the chief.
'We're on scene about a block out,' he updated her. 'It looks like a fully involved vehicle of some sort. Heavy smoke for four blocks in every direction and high heat in the vicinity. All of the citizens are off the streets as far as I can see. I recommend that when you get enough units close enough to fight it, we shut down the blast doors for a five block radius and start ventilating.'
'Copy that, delta-five-nine,' she said. 'Will do.'
'We're suiting up now,' he told her next. 'We'll move in and try to get some water on it.'
They finished donning their suits, zipping them completely over their helmets and faces, leaving only enough room for their masks and goggles to peak out. 'You ready?' Lisa asked Brian.
'I'm ready,' he replied. 'Let's do it.'
They began to trot in the direction of the blaze, their combat goggles allowing them to see through the choking smoke, their suits protecting them from the heat. The blaze grew brighter and brighter as they approached and the shape of the object burning grew increasingly distinct.
'That looks like a fuckin FLEB van,' Lisa observed.
'Sure does,' Brian agreed, noting that it actually seemed to be melting from the intense heat. 'And somehow I don't think that fire is accidental.'
They split up when they reached the intersection, each of them heading for one of the four 'fire stations' that were located at every intersection of streets. The fire stations were locked cabinets in which one hundred meters of six centimeter fire hose was stored, hooked up to a high capacity hydrant. Dip-hoe carts all carried extra hose in case the one hundred meters was not enough to reach a particular incident. In this case however, the burning van was less than thirty meters away from two of the stations.
Brian reached his station first. He looked at the number printed on it and then talked to the dispatch computer. 'Computer,' he told it. 'Unlock fire station 34-7-2.'
The computer quickly analyzed his voice pattern and concluded that he had authorization to order such a thing. A second later there was a click and the mechanism slid open. Inside of the compartment the hemp hose was wrapped around a large reel, a large nozzle resting on top of it. Brian grabbed the nozzle and put it over his shoulder. He began to walk towards the fire, the hose unreeling behind him as he pulled. Across the street, Lisa had reached her station and was doing the same.
When he got within ten meters of the blaze, his patrol computer warned him that the heat was becoming too intense for safety. He stopped. 'Computer,' he said. 'Charge up my hose.'
The computer complied, opening the main valve on his station and allowing water to rush forth into the hemp. The flat hose on the street suddenly ballooned up as it was filled, the various twists and turns jumping up and down and then resettling. When the water reached the nozzle, the weight of the hose against his shoulder suddenly quadrupled. Brian brought the nozzle down against his chest and then opened it, allowing a powerful stream of water to blast out towards the burning van. The sheer force of it tried to knock him off his feet but he braced himself tightly, just as he always had in the training classes, and kept the stream on the flames. Slowly, he began to move in.
His stream of water was joined by Lisa's less than a minute later. Although there was no negligible effect at first, their streams were soon joined by others as the first dip-hoe team arrived and activated the other two stations at the intersection. The smoke billowed even thicker for a few moments as the battalion chief ordered the blast doors shut around them to contain it. But a few moments later it began to dramatically thin as exhaust ports in the roof were opened up, allowing it to escape into the Martian atmosphere. Ventilation engines in the enclosed areas then kicked into overdrive, blasting fresh air into the area as fast as it was being sucked out by the pressure difference.
Once four water streams were concentrated upon it, the blaze was knocked down in less than five minutes, revealing that the vehicle was indeed a FLEB van, although now a partially melted and grotesquely distorted one. It was when Brian, Lisa, and the other cops and dip-hoes moved in to inspect the interior of the van that they made the shocking discovery that it was still occupied. Ten bodies were inside, all of them little more than grinning, blackened skeletons with melted helmets on their heads and charred body armor over their ribs. Their weapons, which were mostly plastic with steel barrels, were melted lumps in their laps or on the floor.
'Christ,' Brian said, glad that he still had his mask on. He could imagine what the smell would be like in there. 'What do you think did this?'
'A Molotov cocktail,' replied one of the dip-hoes, an old, crusty one that looked like he had at least twenty years on the job. 'I've seen them used before during the riots of '28. A little pressurized hydrogen in a Fruity bottle, a simple igniter designed to fire on impact, and you have yourself a hell of a fire.'
'Where the hell do they get pressurized hydrogen?' Lisa asked, unable to take her eyes off of the charred bodies.
'Contacts in the agricultural industry,' the dip-hoe replied. 'The same place they get the chemicals for making dust.'
This theory was strengthened by the finding of a large chunk of concrete, blackened but still intact, resting between the front seats of the van.
'Look at that,' the old dip-hoe said, pointing it out. 'I bet they threw that concrete through first, shattering the window, and then followed it up a second or two later with the Molotov.' He smiled a little, seemingly impressed by this. 'Pretty smart,' he said. 'Two simple ballistic throws and you've got ten feds charbroiled. Guess they won't be taking down any pamphlet makers anymore, will they?'
'Or gunning down any protesters in front of their office,' one of the other dip-hoes put in.
Brian and Lisa both stared at the blackened corpses for a moment, both knowing that they should feel outraged at the murder of fellow law enforcement officers, both feeling guilt that they didn't. After all, these feds had undoubtedly been on their way to yet another illegal raid upon Martian civilians when the attack occurred. When you came right down to it, shouldn't they expect this sort of thing considering the way they had been operating lately?
'Ten less Earthlings we have to worry about now,' Brian said, stepping back away from the van.
'You got that right,' Lisa agreed.
Once the smoke was evacuated from the area, the blast doors on the perimeter were opened back up and an
