About two hours later, we made it back to the yard. While Coal Dust made his way toward the local diner to get some food before heading to the bunk houses, I turned in the direction of the yard's main dispatch office to bring up what I saw at the bridge.
I walked in to see the place near deserted. I knew it would be like that this late, but I also knew that the pony I wanted to talk to was there. I made a beeline for his desk.
“Hello Mr. Hard Ass.”
Files, or Mr. Hard Ass to as I liked to jokingly call him sometimes, was one of the only true friends I had in dispatch, and often helped me with problems I saw on the line since he had contact with the decision makers in Canterlot. His father had also been good friends with Hotbox, and followed the same "rules" that I did.
“Well hello to you too Stokey. To what do I owe the pleasure.” He said back with a knowing smirk.
I just smiled back at him, “What, I can’t just stop by and say hi to one of my friends?”
Files shot me a oh-really grin, “Really.”
I put my hooves up in defeat, “Alright, you got me. I got something you got to bring up with management again.”
Files just rolled his eyes, then laughed, “I’m messing with you Stokes, what do you need taken care of?”
I did my best not to laugh. That was Files for you, he'll play games with you till you're ready to pull your mane out, but will always come back to seriousness and help out a friend.
“The bridge up on the Old Grade summit isn’t looking too good. The outside rail near the middle of the bridge has sunk into the ties. At the worst point, the rail is almost flush with the beams.”
Files just looked back at me shocked, “Well, I guess that should be taken up with management. I’ll let them know tomorrow.”
I gave Files a smile, “Thanks Files, see you tomorrow.” He waved as I walked out, “Later Stokey.”
I walked out of dispatch and down the road to the railway bunk houses. I had spent my life in the bunks since I was 18 and started work on the railway properly. It had been a long day and I was dead tired and just wanted some sleep at that point.
By the time I got to my bunk, it was just before 9 at night and the sun had gone down. I walked into my room, shut the door, and fell onto my bed. I had been up since seven that morning taking care of a couple early morning local freights before I got the rest of the day off. Within a few minutes of hitting my old abused mattress, I was out cold.
I was woken up by shaking of my foreleg courtesy of one of the Call Colts. "Sorry Stokes, shit shift's on you today."
I groaned and looked at the clock on the wall next to me to see it reading 2 in the morning as the Call Colt walked out of my room.
Shit shift was the nickname we gave to the longest shift of the day, 3:30 to 12 in the morning the next day. We all hated working shit shift, which is why it was on a rotational schedule spread across all hoofplate crews. It had been nearly two months since I had worked it.
I really didn't want to get up, but, eventually, I rolled out of bed and got on my old denims and engineer's cap and made my way out onto the road leading toward the railway. It was near pitch black out as I walked along the empty road, but I wasn't alone for long. I once again heard a familiar whistle come from behind me, turning my head I could just make out the shape Coal Dust coming up behind me.
"Hey Dusty, you ready for this."
"Oh hell no, I hate working shit shift. And don't try to tell me you do." He said as he caught up with me.
I just laughed, "No, I'm not exactly a fan either. I may not be looking forward to this, but not much complaining will do about it."
He only nodded, before falling silent leaving us listening to only the distant sounds of shunters.
We took a turn away from the railway down a little side road toward the only lit building on the street. A coffee shop ran by and old railway engineer who had worked his fair share of long shifts in his day.
We walked in and the bell over the door chimed. Barely a second later an older, tan stallion popped his head in from the back room. "Well well Stokes and Dusty, stuck with shit shift are you?"
"Yeah, so we're gonna need two of the usuals, extra espresso."
The old stallion nodded before disappearing into the back of the shop again.
"Hey Stokes, over here."
We turned to see Blastpipe and Crankshaft sitting at one of the booths already drinking their own coffee.
"Hey Crankshaft, Blastpipe, what are you two doing up so early?" I asked as we took a seat at their booth.
Blastpipe sighed, "We have to take the early morning commuter, have to be in Hanhoover by 4, and head out of the grade by 5, and in Vanhoover by 8."
"Damn, 172 miles in three hours. management is really starting to tighten up on those passenger time tables." Coal Dust said as two cups of coffee were set on the table in front of us.
"Thank's Wood Reefer. Put this on my tab, I don't get paid till Monday." I said as I took a sip from the cup in front of me.
The old tan stallion smiled, "Can do Stokes." he said before walking away.
Blastpipe took a drag from his own coffee before returning to the conversation. "Yeah the scheduling is brutal, but the Canterlot High-up's gave us a break for once."
The look on our faces was probably priceless.
Crankshaft laughed, "Yeah that's what we looked like when we heard, but Canterlot gave the flats between Hoovington and Tall Tale a max speed of 95mph."
Again, me and Coal Dust were dumbstruck. That section of track had been at a max speed of 70mph for passengers ever since the Canterlot take over.
"Can any of the current roster even do 95?"
Blastpipe and Crankshaft looked at each other, "Well some of those new 4-8-4 Hudsons might with a lot coaxing. But as far as I'm concerned there was only one engine we ever had capable of 95 or higher."
"But management would never let us use those engines anymore, even though I don't understand why." Crankshaft added as he chugged the last of his coffee.
We all nodded, very few of us tried to understand the decisions the new management made, and the ones who did usually didn't get very far. "Who knows with them." I said, again drinking my coffee.
We chatted for a little bit longer before me and Dusty knew we needed to leave. Blastpipe and Crankshaft decided to come with and spend some time in dispatch before their shift started.
The four of us walked in to see dispatch still mostly deserted except for the few ponies needed to run the graveyard shift. I was about to head over to the board to see what my orders were when Files turned a corner and nearly bumped into us.
"Ah Stokey, just the stallion I was looking for." He reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a clipboard, "I had a feeling I would run into while I was leaving."
I took the clipboard from him while he walked past me toward the door, "Later Stokes." He called over his shoulder.
I waved to him before turning my attention back to the clipboard in my hooves, as Crankshaft and Blastpipe walked of in the direction of the break room.
"Alright let's see what we got today." I muttered as I gave the papers a quick look over. "We have a 275 sitting in D 16, and our engine is an Appaloosan and Southern AC-9 number 3800. She'll be waiting in Shed 2-18."
Now, I understand that for even those out there who know railroads, that sounds like I'm speaking swahili, so I'll break it down quick. We had to pick up a train that was 2.75 miles long out of the 16th siding of the fourth area of the freight yard. Our locomotive was a 2-8-8-4 articulated mixed traffic engine, which also happened to be the first member of her class. We have five 30 bay roundhouse in Tall Tale, and she was in bay 18 of the second one. Now that that's all clear, back to us.
Coal Dust snorted, "First member of the class huh, this ought to be interesting."
I nodded as I placed the clipboard on my back, and started to walk toward the back door of dispatch which lead out into the yard, Coal Dust following close behind.
As we got over to the yard door, I glanced out the windows overlooking the nearby incoming tracks, and watched the columns of smoke rise up from the stacks of multiple yard switchers moving cars around and assembling the first trains of the day. I then turned my eyes to the sky, my muzzle fading into a frown as I watched the stars slowly disappear behind a black mass that I knew were storm clouds.
"Dusty." I called over my shoulder as I continued to stare at the sky, "Can you check the weather chart and see what the weather team said was rolling in the morning?"
I heard hooves move behind me as Coal Dust did what I had asked. There were a few seconds of silence before a loud slam tore through the room, and Coal Dust started to swear up a storm. "Celestia damn it! Those mother bucking winged rats screwed us!"
"Whoa Dusty, chill, what's going on?"
He came storming up next to me, "Those idiots who are supposedly in charge of the weather couldn't keep control of one of their storm and it mixed with the one already brewing over the Grade. So now, the mother of all storms is descending on the Grade. It'll be at full strength in like two hours."
Now there is something you all need to understand about the Smokey Mountains. Being the tallest mountain range in Equestria, they had their own weather patterns that the Pegasi chose not to mess with. Dusty had said that it was similar to this place near his home town called the Everfree Forest, but I was just going off of what he had told me. Anyways, these storms on their own could be some of the worst seen in all of Equestria, taking one of those and mixing it with even another minor storm, was a recipe for disaster.
I was shocked, the weather ponies had screwed up bad before, but this was the worst I had seen in a hot minute, "How bad is full strength?"
Coal Dust shook his head, "It'll be the worst storm the mountain has seen it 19 years, since that one storm when we were kids."
"Wait, how do we know any of this? They couldn't have known this five days ago when they sent out the weather report."
I got a grunt in response, "They sent a messenger an hour ago."
As if on que, a thick bolt of lightning streaked across the yard, brightly lighting up the the night sky, closely followed by a loud roll of thunder.
I looked back out the door and off in the direction of the roundhouses, "Well, there's nothing much we can do. Might as well get to work and hope they close the line before we leave the yard."
Coal Dust, again, only grunted, but followed me as I walked out the door and off towards the roundhouses.
The Olde Grade being closed due to weather was a pretty common occurrence, especially in winter. Considering how bad the storms could get and the fact the tracks were carved into the edge of a mountain, poor visibility could quickly lead to a nasty wreck. I had a feeling The Grade would be closed, I just didn't want to wait out the storm out on the mountain side.
As we trotted out of dispatch and over the incoming and bypass tracks, one of the shunters putting together the morning trains rolled up next to us. They needed to pass by the roundhouses to grab a string of cars, and offered us a ride over, one we were happy to accept.
Hopping off the shunter as it slowly rolled by the sheds, we quickly made our way into the nearly full roundhouse, spotting our engine sitting near the middle between a beaten local freight 2-6-0, and a similarly battered 4-8-2.
As we worked out way over to the sleeping engine Dusty grabbed a few oil covered rags out of a bucket for use in getting the fire going. Fire lighters weren't paid to wake up that early anymore, not that it mattered much as all the railway’s fireponies had all learned how to start and build the fires in varying locomotives during their initial training, it was just one more thing we had to worry about at the start of our long day.
I started to give the engine a look over while Coal Dust pulled himself into the cab to get the fire lit. I could hear him complaining about something to do with the cab’s roof, and as I passed the rear wheel set, I joined him in complaining.
"Sweet Celestia! The hell are they doing over there in Appaloosa!"
"What's the matter Stokes?" Coal Dust asked, leaning out of the cab.
I cast a glance back towards him, "Come down here and take a look at this."
So Dusty climbed back out of the cab and soon joined me, staring in disbelief at the rear driving wheel set.
"How did they even get this thing here?" Was all he could see.
Now to explain what had us so shocked, I have to explain locomotive design and maintenance slightly. The drive wheels of a steam locomotive are not one solid piece. There is the main wheel which the drive rods are attached to, and then there's the wheel's tire. A tire for a locomotive is just a strip of metal on the outside of the wheel that makes contact with the rail. It's done this way so the tire can be replaced when it's worn down by friction of the rail instead of replacing the entire wheel. The tires on the rear wheel set of the AC-9 were so worn that I couldn't believe that they were even able to grip the rails.
I couldn't help but facehoof, "I can tell already this is gonna be a fun day."
Coal Dust didn't say anything, only grumbling as he turned and climbed back into the cab. I finished up my walk around, only noting a strange wear pattern on the back of the rear left cylinder, before I joined him, waiting for the boiler pressure to build up.
About forty minutes later, we were ready to roll. By now it was nearly four in the morning, and roundhouse workers, greasers, fire lighters, and cleaners alike, started to file in. I blew the big engine's whistle, which startled two of the roundhouse crew who had been in front of the engine, but they quickly recovered and opened the tall doors that lead out to the turntable.
With the doors open, and the turntable set soon after, I pushed the reverser forward, and slowly eased the regulator open. I didn't get to pull engines out of the roundhouse often, as I was usually the second or third, or twelfth pony to use them. But I always loved it when I got the chance. The sound that came from the locomotive's bark reverberating around the interior of the immense engine shed was music to my ears.
I listened as steam filled the cylinders, and slowly, the wheels began to turn. I pulled the regulator further towards me as we started to roll towards the table. Just as I cracked past quarter throttle, the engine began to shake, and the unmistakable sound of the rear drivers slipping filled the roundhouse.
"Son of a." I banged my head against the bulkhead while I closed the regulator. "This is gonna be a long damn day."
Coal Dust once again didn't say anything, he just sat in silence with a grimace on his face as I lined ourselves up on the turntable and got pointed towards the coaling tower. As we grew closer to the multi story brick tower, Coal Dust started to climb onto the tender.
“Remember, full coal and water, and check on the sand, I have a feeling we’re gonna need every bit we can pack in there.” I called over my shoulder.
Coal Dust only nodded as he climbed onto the top of the tender, calling out the distance to the coal chute, “70, 60, 50, 40, 30, brakes, good enough.”
I heard the coal chute clank down to the tender opening, and seconds later I heard and felt coal begin to rush into the tender. So I sat there, on the plank that made up my seat, looking out the window at the growing grey sky. In moments like that, I just let my mind wonder, and often times I found myself thinking back to the years before the railway was run by business ponies in Canterlot. Back when it was ran by ponies who understood the railway pony life.
Ditchlight, Bulkhead, and Highball, the railway’s original owners and the ones that started the company, were some of the best ponies to work with. They may not have had any railroading experience when the company was started, next to nopony did at the time as railroads were still a new idea back then. But what they did have, was an understanding of the dangers of heavy machinery, and a respect for the ponies who were willing to work so closely with them. They say a need our extremely small town at the time had, and how a railroad could be the exact solution to said problem.
Thus the Tall Tale Mountain Short Line was born.
Originally, the line only ran between Tall Tale and Hoofington, but within a year and a half, tracks were being laid over the mountain towards Vanhoover, finally connecting the two hubs of commerce with a safe and quick route through the steep and rugged peaks of the Smokey Mountains.
I was then smacked back to the reality courtesy of at hoof to the back of my head, “Stokes, you still in there? I’ve been yellin at ya to move us forward so I can fill the sand dome.”
“Yeah Yeah I’m on it.” I said as I released the brakes and slowly eased open the regulator. Luckily, in the three seconds it took to move forwards 25 feet to the sanding tower, the rear wheels stayed hooked to the rails. It didn’t take long to top off the sand, and soon enough we had run back and been turned towards the yard, all the switches already set for us thanks to yard control in the tower attached to dispatch.
With a heavy clang, I coupled us up to our train, and sat there waiting for the signal to drop and give us the right of way. While we sat there waiting, a yard switcher came to a stop next to us.
I couldn't help but always find it a little funny that the top of the switcher’s roof barely came up past the bottom of the window sill of heavy mainline freight engines like the AC-9. “What can I do for you kid?” I asked
The young engineer looked up to me, “Word just came in, the storm’s in full swing up on the grade. Between the fog and the rain coming down, visibility would be down to about the end of your boiler.”
I was completely taken aback. If the storm was that bad, there was no way management could run trains over The Grade. If they did, it would be almost guaranteed to lead to death. “So I take it Management is closing the line?”
“No, they just dropped the speed limit on The Grade to 30 mph.”
When I heard that, I was about ready to say, “You know what, screw this.” and walk away and never come back. But instead I took a deep breath and settled myself. The first thing that my grandfather had ever taught was you ran the trains. No matter the weather, and no matter what your instincts told you, you ran the trains.
In hindsight, that was a very dangerous, deadly, and idiotic way to think when applied to this situation. He didn't have enough time to teach me to also use my own judgement when applying that thinking I guess.
I looked up toward the mountains just as the signal for our line dropped to green, their summits hidden behind the black clouds. ”It can’t be that bad if they’re still sending us out, right?” I said to myself as I reached for the regulator and gently eased it open.
”I was right, it’s not that bad, it’s worse.”
We had been running for about an hour when we had started to charge into the storm. The rain was coming down like in a sheet so thick that with the engine’s headlight on I could see about 10 feet in front of the end of the cowcatcher. Without the light, I could barely see past the smokebox door.
“This is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve seen in a long damn time!" Coal Dust yelled to me over the sound of the engine and the pelting rain. I turned to him to speak, only to have rain fall into my eye through one of the holes in the engine’s roof.
I just turned back to my controls and checked them as we continued to climb up into the mountain, and into the eye of the storm. I pushed the sander to full, dumping as much sand on the rails as the engine could, it was the only thing that was keeping us moving at this point.
This was quickly turning into the run from hell. I had to be very careful with how I moved the throttle to make sure the engine behaved itself. Luckily, the rear wheel set had only slipped once on the run so far, so I had it easy. Dusty on the other hoof had the hard job. Besides the fact that he had to hoof fire the hungry heavy freight engine, he had to keep a very close eye on the boiler water level, since it had a tendency to severely drop out of nowhere.
But, thankfully, after another two hours pounding through the storm at the 30 mph, we were nearly at the summit. By now it was almost 7 in the morning, and we could see the rising sun trying to break through the thick clouds covering the summit.
“I can’t believe it, we’re actually gonna make it!” Coal Dust called as it seemed like we were soon going to be on “easy street”.
Just as the green signal at the summit came into view, the rear wheel set slipped for the third time during the climb. I rolled my eyes and went to pull back the regulator when a strange sound started to come from the left side. “What the?”
The sentence barely left my mouth when the left side of the cab erupted in an explosion of steam, wood, metal, and glass. The locomotive lurched right as the rear drive wheels locked up and skidded hard along the sand and rain covered rails.
I used one of my forehooves to shield my eyes from the explosion, while I used the other to shut the regulator and fully apply the brakes. The front drive set locked up too, but after half a minute of skidding, the engine came to an abrupt, jerky, stop.
I removed my leg from in front of my eyes and looked myself over. I was covered in a series of small cuts from splitter wood and shattered glass, but all in all, I was ok. As I looked back over the top of the tender to see if any of the cars visible through the storm had derailed from the hard stop, I called over to Coal Dust, “Hey Dusty, you alright?”
I was only greeted by a low groan.
I turned back to my left to see a gaping hole in the cab where Coal Dust’s window and the front left wall should have been, and what looked like one of the locomotive’s tires sticking out of the engine’s roof. Dusty had been launched off the seat he had been taking a break on, and was now sprawled out across the gap plate that covered the distance between the engine and the tender, bleeding.
I rushed over to him and looked over his body. His head was bleeding from a nasty looking gash, and the rest of his body was covered in cuts from the glass of what was once the window sat in front of him.
“Dusty, Dusty can you hear me!” I called as I stood over him.
He coughed a little before groaning again, “Stokes stop yelling. My head already hurts enough.”
I helped lean him up and set him against the wall behind his seat. “You okay?” I asked, even though I knew it was a stupid question.
He didn’t say anything for a while, he just brought a hoof to his head and held it over the gash I had seen, “Yeah I’m good. I just got one hell of a headache.”
It was then he looked up and saw the metal tire sticking out of the roof over his seat, “And that probably explains why.”
I sat down across the cab from him and stared out at the heavily falling rain. “We are in a hell of a tight spot.”
“You can say that again.” Dusty said as he removed his hoof from his head and saw that his normally dark blue hoof had been turned a reddish-purple, his dirty grey mane was slowly beginning to turn red in the spot where his hoof had once been.
He put his hoof back on his head before speaking again. “We’re stuck out on the main in some of the worst weather in years, with an engine that can’t move.”
“And you're bleeding out.” I stated.
He rolled his eyes, “Yeah that too I guess. So, you got any ideas?”
I looked out to the storm again. I knew that we had only barely passed the signal I had seen before the explosion, as I was able to see it behind us when I checked for derailmets. I had an idea, but I didn’t like what it involved doing.
“You think you could hold tight for a bit?” I asked, getting up and trotting over to him.
He closed his eyes then responded, “Yeah I should be good, why?”
“I'm gonna walk up to the summit signal box.”
Dusty’s eyes snapped open and he stared at me, “Stokes, the summit box is still like two miles away. And in this weather you’d barely be able to see the ground ahead of you. You'll just walk straight off the side of the mountain!”
I sighed as I again looked out at the storm, which had seemed to only get worse. “I'll walk between the rails to make sure I keep my bearings. It's the only option we got right now. I'll be back as quick as I can.”
Dusty knew better than to argue with me when I set my mind to something like this, so he just closed his eyes and mumbled, “Just don't get yourself killed.”
With that said, I nodded to him before I stepped out the cab, onto the ladder, and set myself on the ground.
It took all of three seconds for me to become soaked through. I grumbled, but set my resolve and started to walk. I made it all of a foot and a half before I stopped next to the left rear drive set.
Sure enough the second wheel in the line of four was missing its tire. On top of that, the cylinder that ran that wheel set was wrecked. Part of the back was missing, blown out right at the wear line I had seen earlier.
I couldn't stop from shaking my head, disappointed in myself for letting something like that slide, and started walking again. I passed the front of the locomotive soon after, then another ten feet later the beam from #3800's headlight was no longer providing me any additional visibility.
I was on my own.
The walk up to the signal box took about half an hour, and it was one of the worse half hours of my life. The rain stung and cut into me like tiny razors, and it seemed to have been coming from every direction. I could barely see a thing, the rails being the only object that kept me from walking off the side of the mountain just as I had expected. But finally, I saw the faded lights of the signal box off in the distance.
I ran to it as if it was an oasis in a desert and up the steps leading up to the main box before pounding on the door, which opened a second later.
The signal pony, Hazard, gasped when he saw me on the other side.
“H-hey Hazard, m-m-ind if I, c-come in?” I asked. My voice, like the rest of my body, shook from how cold and wet I had become.
Hazard, who was still slightly in shock spoke quick, “Do I mind? Get your soaked flank in here before this storm kills you.”
I was thankful when he stepped aside and let me inside the signal box, sighing in bliss as its warmth immediately hit me. The box was heated by a wooden stove, one I eagerly sat myself in front of.
Hazard was quick to slam the door shut once I made it in, before taking a seat across from me next to all the levers used to operate the signals and switches in his section of the line. “Now I have to ask, why are you walking in this storm? Where’s your train? And where’s Coal Dust?”
“Engine threw a tire into the cab. Wrecked the whole rear driver set and left side of the engine. Tire gave Dusty a love tap to the head, left him with a pretty good gash for his troubles. So we’re stranded back down the line about fifty feet past the northbound signal.”
Hazard had paled at hearing Coal Dust was hurt. “Is Coal going to be ok?”
I shrugged, “Couldn't tell you right now. His head got hit pretty good, the bleeding isn't much better.”
Hazard put a hoof to his head, “This isn't good. Management closed the line over an hour ago, they won't let a single engine leave the yard because of the storm. But, I'll see what I can do. Maybe since this is a life and death situation they'll send something up. As far as I know, you're the only train on The Grade.”
”Great, just what I wanted to hear” I said to myself. We were on our own, for Celestia knew how long. This was just turning into one of those days.
Hazard typed out a telegraph to Tall Tale, which was answered soon after. He read it over and sighed, “I was right, they won’t send out an engine till the storm passes.”
“Well that’s just great.” I said as I leaned back against one of the box’s walls. As I did, I saw the clock perched on his wall, it was nearly 9 in the morning.
I jumped up off the floor, “Shit! I need get back and check on Dusty.”
I went for the door, but Hazard stopped me. “Hold up Stokey.” He then walked over to the corner where his jacket was lying, and grabbed it, along with the first aid kid that every signal box had. He hoofed both to me, “That'll at least keep you somewhat dry, and you'll need that for Coal Dust.”
I smiled as I put the jacket on my somewhat dry body. As I did, he spoke again, “Oh and take my speeder. It'll get you back quicker than having to walk back in this mess. Just bring it back before 5.”
Again, I smiled, “Can do. Thanks a lot Hazard.”
The orange on orange signal pony returned my smile, “Not a problem Stokey. Now get out of here and go make sure Coal Dust is still alive.”
With that, I was out the door and back into the storm.
I was wet again in seconds, but the jacket Hazard had given me meant I was able to stay at least a little drier than I had on the way up.
I walked over to the speeder sitting in the little siding that came off the main line set aside for the signal box.
Now for all you kiddies at home who aren’t railway inclined, which I don’t understand why’d you still be here, but I’m not complaining, a speeder is just a little motorized wooden cart that the signal ponies used to get to and from their boxes. Usually to get up, they just hooked a stream of them to the back of a freight train, and would uncouple themselves, while the train was at speed, and then would trade places with the signal pony there, and run their 12 hour shift.
I climbed into the soaked seat and uncovered the tiny engine, starting it up. I heard a clunk as the switches in front of me aligned with the main line. I looked up to the tower and could just make out Hazard smiling down at me. I smiled back before I trundled out onto the line, and gave the speeder everything it had.
It took me about 10 minutes to get back to the #3800. As I got closer, I noticed that the steam powered head light was dimmer compared to when I left. That meant the steam generator was dying, which could only mean that Coal Dust had dumped the fire at some point while I was gone.
I climbed out of the speeder and hurried over to the cab, pulling myself back up as quick as I could on the slippery steps, “Hey Dusty, you still with me up there?” I called.
As I popped my head over the cab floor, I saw Dusty sitting against the cab wall, with a weak smile on his face. “Yeah. I’m not dead yet.” He said just as weakly, I could tell he wasn’t doing too good.
I climbed up the rest of the way, opening up the first aid kit so I could treat his wound to the best of my ability.
Dusty winced in pain as I poured some disinfectant onto the gash on his head, before he spoke again, “So what’s the plan Stokes?”
I sighed as I wrapped his head thickly with a roll of gawes, “There is none. Turns out we’re more screwed than we thought we were. Management pulled a Spotlight on us and closed The Grade just a little after we left. It looks like we're the only train on The Grade, and they won’t let any other engine out of the yard till the storm dies off.”
“Great.” Coal Dust groaned. It really was just not shaping up to be our day. So with nothing better to do, we just sat there in the cab, doing our best to stay warm and dry by the firebox hole, and listened as the storm raged on outside.
Nearly half an hour when by in relative silence, before it was broken by Coal Dust sighing, “You know somethin’ Stokes.”
“What?”
He shook his head, “A few years back, being an engineer for this line was the best job on this side of Canterlot. Heck, we were the biggest rail company in Equestria for a while back when we were in school.”
I chuckled solemnly with a half hearted grin on my face, I knew where he was coming from. When we were growing up, Tall Tale was one of the largest, and most unexpected, railway hubs in Equestria. It was hard to find a family in Tall Tale that wasn’t involved in the railway in one way or another. In our school, there were two groups of ponies, those who wanted to get as far away from the railway as possible, and those who wanted to run it.
The latter outweighed the former by a far margin.
“Yeah I remember those days. Back when sitting in lunch involved seeing who’s dad or grandad had the craziest stories. I almost miss it sometimes”
Dusty just stared out at the storm behind me, “And now look at this place. In four years we’ve lost nearly half of the railway’s staff, the engines are being mistreated, and we’ve lost more crew’s in accidents than we have in the line’s whole history. I swear these Canterlot ponies are trying to destroy this railway.”
I shook my head, “The sad part is I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the truth anymore.”
"You weren't saying that when I was pointing it out two years ago."
"Things weren't this bad two years ago"
After that, we both fell silent, lost in thought. So there we sat, in that wreaked AC-9’s cab, as the storm raged on all around us. Soon enough, we both fell asleep.
I was woken up awhile later by the sound of an engine pounding up the line in the distance. I looked out the cab, the sun was shining, and the storm had slowed down to a sprinkle.
I then looked over to Dusty, who was still out cold. The bandages that I had wrapped his head in were stained now, and I was really starting to worry about him. Wit hope that rescue was finally on the way, I looked away from him and started to climb up onto the top of the tender to try and see where our rescue was.
Now, I was usually able to guess the type of engine coming by the sound of its bark, or chuff, with near perfect accuracy. But the engine I heard pounding up the hill was something beyond me, yet it sounded familiar all the same. So I sat there on top of the tender and waited for it to pop out from around one of the mountain’s corners.
A few moments later, my answer popped out into the view about half a mile down the track from us, and I was actually shocked by what I saw. But once that shock wore off, I had the biggest grin on my face.
When T.T.M.S.L. was hitting the height of its growth, it was realized that even the new heavy 4-8-2 freight engines made specifically for heavy grades just didn’t have what it took to handle what The Olde Grade had to throw at them, mixed with the growing traffic demands of the time. So, Hotbox, along with Bulkhead, Ditchlight, and Highball got in contact with some friends they had made at Canterlot Locomotive Company, and drafted up plans for an engine specifically built to tackle the Tall Tale grades. What they produced became the centerpiece of the line’s freight traffic, the HG10.
The HG10 was a mix between a 2-10-4 Texan, and the 9000 class, even though neither of those classes hadn’t been built yet. They were 10 wheel engines specifically built for long freight hauls over The Grade. The HG stood for Heavy Grade, and the 10 went along with the ten, 58 inch drive wheels. But what made this engine the true king of the Tall Tale grades, were their cylinders, and boiler.
The locomotives boasted a set of three high pressure cylinders measuring 34 inches in diameter with a 36 inch stroke, overly large cylinders by most railways standards. If that wasn't enough, this beast had three. Added to that, because of the sheer weight of the cylinder block, the engine had six leading wheels, being basically the only class of engine to use such a lead truck.
Now, big cylinders mean nothing if they can’t be fed with enough steam. Typical 2-10-4’s ran a working boiler pressure of around 275 psi, and the 9000 class ran at around 220 psi. But, the builders of the HG10 gave the class an experimental high pressure boiler with a 415 psi working pressure.
Because of all of this, these engines were able to produce around 380,000ilf of tractive effort. In lay pony terms, the most powerful locomotive class ever built, at that time.
415 psi was a high demand for any engine, and it hadn't really worked before, reason why I said experimental. So to give the class the best chance of success, the CLC created a special new fire box called a "Quick Burn Firebox". These fire boxes were also experimental, and because of how they had to be designed, HG10's had to have a six wheel trailing truck to support all the weight. This meant the final wheel arrangement for the class was 6-10-6.
The extra length needed firebox also forced the cab to be moved back, and since they wanted the rear truck under the center of the cab for balance it had to be moved back. This created an eight and a half foot gap between the last driving wheel and the trailing truck, which gave the engine a very odd look.
Compounding that weird look were the engine’s tenders. Yes, plural, and there was a reason for this. Like I said, the quick burn firebox was an experimental design. Which, while able to create a large enough amount of steam to support the high pressure boiler, they weren't exactly as fuel efficient as a classic firebox design.
So to make sure the engine had enough coal and water to actually be useful, all members of the class were permanently equipped with two tenders. One was specifically made for coal, and sat just behind the locomotive, capable of holding 70,000lbs of the black gold. Behind that was an identical tender that was made for water only, and could hold 50,000 gallons.
In the end, the tenders put together were longer than the engine itself, completing the odd look trifecta.
But, despite the odd looks of the design, when in the hooves of an engineer that knew what they were doing, the HG10 could easily take a 300, or three mile long train, over The Grade at line speed, from Tall Tale to Vanhoover, on their own, and still have fuel to spare.
One of the HG10's was my main home and assigned engine back when we were still allowed to use them. They were always a spectacle to see and hear pound up and down the mountain, as Tall Tale was the only place that had them. For most railways, they were just too inefficient and fuel hungry, the heavy 4-8-2’s and 2-10-4’s could do the job just fine.
But for Tall Tale, which boasted the two heaviest grades in all of Equestria, the HG10's were worth their weight in the gold they cost to run.
The HG10 that pulled up looked abysmal compared to what she would have looked like when the class rolled out of the shops 19 years ago. The boiler and cylinders were speckled with rust, her wheels creaked and groaned as they turned, it sounded and looked like the smoke box was clogged with ash, and you couldn’t tell where the original gloss black paint started and the built up grease ended.
As it pulled up next us, I saw the word main written over the number 9366 in smeared white chalk on her cabside.
I almost cried when I saw that. #9366 had been my baby back in the day, my main workhorse, my engine. She had seen me through the good and bad times of my first few years as an engineer, and had even helped me set a railway record when me, her, and a friend with another HG10 hauled a 650 over the line.
A whistle from the beaten engine’s cab snapped me out of my walk down memory lane. I glanced up to see the familiar face of Ash Pan smiling back at me from the other cab, “Got yourself into a bit of a bind did y’ah Stokes?”
A shallow grin formed on my face, “You could say that. Hey, they didn’t send you up with a doctor or somethin’ did they? Coal Dust’s in a pretty bad way.”
The smile that had been on Ash Pan’s face dropped away instantly when he heard that, “N-no. I wasn’t told anything about that. Is he alright?”
My eyes moved down to my right towards Dusty, who had surprisingly, and worryingly, not been woken up by the booming sound of the HG10. “He’s beaten up pretty good. The tire got him in the head when it came through the window.”
Ash pan didn’t say anything back to me, he just turned and yelled over the tenders to the locomotive that I was just now noticing coupled up behind 9366, “Bolt Shear! Get those torches up here now! Dusty’s hurt and we need to get this hunk of scrap ready to roll ASAP!”
A red earth pony jumped out of the other engine’s cab, and another pony lowered down a set of gas cutting torches to him. He then ran up to the rear drive set of the AC-9, lit the cutters, and set to work cutting through the destroyed drive rods so the rear set could roll free.
I watched the pony cut through the metal rods wishing the whole process would go faster, until another whistle pierced the air from Ash Pan, “Stokes, go unhook that hulk from the train. We already told your guard to set his brakes.”
I nodded, took one more look at Dusty, and then climbed out of the cab and opened the engine’s knuckle, releasing it from the train. While I had been doing that, Ash Pan’s firepony had uncoupled the HG10, and the mechanic pony had finished cutting through the first of the AC-9’s drive rods on the left side, and was working as quickly as he could.
I ran up to the front of the engine and jumped back in the speeder. I started it up, threw it in reverse, and raced up to the single track switch where Ash Pan would cross over to my line. I unhooked the signal box control cable, and manually flipped the track, just as Ash pulled up.
He bounded over the switch, threw the HG10 into reverse, and charged back down the half mile of line back to the AC-9. I proceeded to take the speeder the rest of the way back to Hazard’s signal box.
When I got there, I explained everything as quickly as I could before I sprinted back toward the switch. I got there just as Ash Pan pulled up with #3800 hooked to the back of #9366. I flipped the switch again, reconnected the box cable, before I climbed into 3800’s cab. I sat down next to Coal Dust and lightly shook him.
“Hey, hey, Dusty, you still with me?”
The blue stallion groaned before opening his eyes and looking up at me, “I'm feeling pretty rough, but I'm still here Stokes.”
I sighed in relief as we came to a stop ahead of the single track switch. “Hold on Dusty, you're gonna be fine.”
It didn't take long to roll back to where the train was, and couple up #3800 to the 2-6-2 yard goat #9366 had brought with her. As they readied the locomotives to move, I stayed in the cab with Coal Dust, planning to head back down to Tall Tale so I could keep an eye on him. That was until Ash Pan popped his head over the cab floor. “Stokes, you still in condition to drive?”
I was slightly confused by the question, “I can still run an engine, why?”
“‘Cause my firepony has to fire the yard goat back to Tall Tale. I can run the stoke system on the HG10 if you drive.”
I suddenly found myself with a tough choice. Stay with Dusty and stay loyal to my friends, or finish the run and be loyal to railway.
That's when I felt someone tap my leg, it was Dusty. The wounded and weak blue stallion smiled up at me, “Go finish the run Stokes, I'll be alright. Go treat our old girl right.”
I stared at him stunned for a moment, before I nodded my head and climbed out of the cab. As I climbed up to #9366’s cab, I looked back when I heard the yard goat start to move, and caught sight of Dusty through the hole in the AC-9’s cab, staring back at me with a smile. Within no time, they were pounding away back towards Tall Tale.
I pulled myself into the cab of 9366 and sighed. It was like seeing an old friend. Everything was just how I remembered, only a lot dirtier. The bulkhead was covered in more white chalk and rust, the white chalk spelling out what different levers were for and where certain readings should be.
As Ash Pan climbed up on the other side of the cab, I turned to him and asked, “Where’d you pull this thing out of?”
He chuckled, “Funny story that. So management was going to send up a 4-8-2 to take the train the rest of the way. It was a little roughed up so I brought it over to the shop quick. Turns out the brake lines were shot and probably ready to give out. It was the only engine that wasn’t scheduled for a train with a burning fire, so we thought we might just have to risk it. That's when one of the shop ponies pointed to this ol' girl.”
He banged his hoof on the backhead for emphasis. “Shop ponies had been using her as their main boiler for almost two years now. Just had it parked up on a old side track in the back with pipes connected to the cylinders. So we checked her over, found she was more rail-worthy than the 4-8-2, unchocked her wheels, and hauled ass up The Grade.”
That explained a lot. The markings were for back shop ponies who had never run one of these engines before. It also explained how a HG10 was still in drive-able condition without months of restoration.
Despite everything, I couldn't stop a slightly smug grin coming over my face, "Now how exactly did you talk your way into driving her up here?"
Ash Pan returned his own, even smuggler grin, "Easy, I was the only one around at the time that had any experience driving an HG10"
I chose not to question anymore. So instead, I pushed the reverser all the way forward, and lightly cracked open the regulator. I smiled as the engine began to move, even in her beaten state, the old girl could get moving the second the regulator was cracked a fraction of an inch.
In no time at all, we had swapped tracks and reversed down to the train. With a smack, we coupled up to the front of the train. As I climbed out of the cab to tie the air hoses together, I noticed something. “Hey Ash, the rain stopped.”
We had been so busy trying to get the engines switched and the destroyed AC-9 sent back to Tall Tale, we hadn’t even noticed. “Well I’ll be damned.” was all Ash said as I jumped down to the gravel.
I quickly made my way behind the tenders, and tied together the air brake hoses. When I was done, I turned and looked down the train, confirming my thoughts on the entire train still being on the line, thankfully.
I then made my way back to 9366’s cab and climbed back in. “You ready to go Ash?” I asked as I fully pulled myself into the engine’s cab. I watched as Ash Pan shut the auto-stoker off before turning to me, “Yeah, I’m ready to roll.”
With that, I once again set the reverser full forward, and cracked the regulator open. As I did, I opened the sander half way to allow the wheels to get grip on the wet, 1.5% inclined, rails. It took a little more power than before to get the engine moving, considering that it now had a nearly three mile long train on it’s back. But all said and done, the old girl got moving pretty easy.
In no time at all, we were going 20mph, and passing Hazard’s signal box, indicating that we had crested the Tall Tale part of The Grade, and were clear to fly onto the summit.
Normally that would have been when I gave the engine power to make up for lost time, but knowing what I did about the single track bridge, I kept the speed under 40mph until at least the engine had cleared the bridge.
As we bounced over the middle of the bridge, I felt the engine lean to the right as we rode over the bad piece of track. If Ash had felt the engine’s tilt, that he didn’t seem to care as he never spoke a word about it. Instead, we silently made our way toward Vanhoover.
After another two hour of charging down the Vanhoover grades, and across the flats, we found ourselves on the outskirts of the Vanhoover yard. I slowly brought the train into a yard, before coming to a stop on the incoming track.
I turned to Ash, “You keep the fire going, I’m gonna see what the yard master wants us to do.”
Ash just waved his hoof at me as he leaned back in his seat, “Aye-aye skipper.” Was all he said a before he was out cold. That’s when I remembered that Ash pan been rostered as the replacement engineer for a late freight the night before, and he was probably exhausted. I reached over and opened the main injector. The boil pressure was gonna suffer, but at least the engine wouldn’t explode.
With that taken care of, I stepped down out of the cab and made my way over to the yard master’s office. Just as I reached my hoof towards the office’s door handle, I got the deep feeling that it was going to be a long day.