She smiled, pulled up and cruised along the line of thick, oily smoke rising from the surface. The mask made things easier for her while she got settled, but when she felt the flames, she started to haul the heat from the ground, leaving a trail of frost in her wake. Hours passed as she sought out every bit of burning mineral. Even one inch of flame would reignite the entire disaster. When the whole area was frosted over, she abandoned the soil and soared upward, the fire she wore, swirling and tangling around her. She could see the shuttle, and she powered past it, up into the air where she could release the fire. Heat poured out of her in a jet, cutting straight through the cloud layer and toward the stars. She held back a tiny bit and wobbled her way to the shuttle. Catching a flying vehicle was quite a bit different than falling out of it. Rorrom tried, but it still took her three attempts to haul herself into the drop hatch and flop down on the floor.
