Page 148 of Honeyfires

"We call Kyle Emerson to the stand."

Emerson was two seasons into his time with Station 19, twenty-five years old, built for this work and still growing into trusting himself in it. He'd spent months giving me the cold shoulder. And now he was walking to that witness chair, and when he sat down, he looked at me directly for the first time in a long time.

"Firefighter Emerson, how would you characterize Forewoman Alves's leadership?"

"The best I've worked under. She reads conditions most people would miss, and she's never made a call that put us in unnecessary danger."

"The day in question. What were conditions like from your perspective?"

"Terrifying." He said it bluntly, without drama. "The wind shift came out of nowhere. One minute we're holding a manageable line, the next I'm watching the fire crown out and start running at us. When Alves got on the radio requesting evacuation, I could see her watching the fire, calculating. When Rodriguez told her to hold—" He paused. "I knew she was going to make the hard call anyway. And I was relieved."

"Why relieved?"

"Because I trusted her judgment more than anything coming through that radio." He leaned forward slightly. "I should say something on the record. I haven't always been the best crewmate to Forewoman Alves. I had some behavior at a crew event that reflected badly on me, behavior she called out because it was right to call out, and I responded by making her work environment harder than it needed to be." He looked at me, and there was genuine regret in it. "I was wrong. Even when I was making her life difficult, I never once doubted her ability to lead. She saved my life that day. I should have said so months ago instead of giving her the cold shoulder."

"Do you believe she made the right decision?"

"Without question." He held my gaze. "Petra Alves is the best crew boss I've ever worked with, and I'll follow her anywhere."

"We call Charles Davids to the stand."

Davids stood slowly. He was in his fifth season, and he knew fire the way you knew a language you'd spoken your whole life. He'd also spent months pretending I didn't exist. And when he looked at me now, crossing the room to the witness chair, the expression on his face was something I hadn't seen from him in a long time.

Shame.

He sat down. Clasped his hands in his lap.

"Firefighter Davids, can you describe your experience on the day of the incident?"

"I was angry when Forewoman Alves called the evacuation," he said. "Thought we could hold the line. Thought she was giving up too soon." His jaw worked. "I was wrong. Dead wrong."

"What changed your perspective?"

"About a week after the fire, I went back to the site. Our original position was—" He shook his head. "There was nothing left. The trees we'd been anchored to were charred stumps. The ground looked like glass in some spots from the heat intensity. I stood there and realized we wouldn't have made it. Not one of us. Then I went and read the report, and it confirmed everything."

He looked at me, and his eyes were wet.

"I've been a poor crewmate to Alves for months," he said. "Since she called me out at a crew event for saying disrespectful things. I was embarrassed, felt like she'd made me look bad in front of everyone, so I gave her the cold shoulder. Acted like she didn't exist while she was suspended, while she was fighting for her career." His voice cracked slightly. "But she saved my life anyway. She pulled all of us out of that fire even though I'd been treating her badly, and I've been too ashamed to thank her."

The room was completely silent.

"Firefighter Davids, how do you stand on Forewoman Alves's decision?"

"I'm her fiercest supporter. I was too proud to admit I'd been wrong. But I'm speaking up now when it matters most. Petra Alves saved my life. She made the hardest call a crew boss can make, and she did it even though I'd given her every reason not to bother. She's the best leader I've ever worked with." He looked at me one more time. "I'm sorry, Petra. For all of it."

I nodded. My throat was too tight for anything else.

"We call Perpetua Alves to the stand."

My legs felt like water. Diana touched my arm briefly as I stood. Not reassurance exactly, more like a runner touching the wall before they push off. Knoss nodded. And Vera, in the back row, had her hands folded in her lap and her eyes on my face with absolute faith.

I walked to the witness chair. Sat. Waited.

"Forewoman Alves, please state your full name and position for the record."

"Perpetua Alves. Forewoman, Helitack Crew 3, Station 19."

"How long have you been with this department?"