//------------------------------//
// Side Chapter 1: Heavy Haul 
// Story: The Guild of Equestrian Railwaymen: Dual bands of steel through the hills 
// by bucking bronco 1968 
//------------------------------//

By Equestrian law, ponies were banned from joining the railway until they were 18, because of how dangerous the work environment was.

That, however, didn’t stop me.

With the help of Spotlight, and a lot of shushing when certain ponies were around the railway, I joined as a workshop aid at the age of 15, basically just a greaser. I was so happy when this happened, because there was a rule on the T.T.M.S.L., to become a hoof-plate worker, you had to first spend two years working in the roundhouse first. 

This was put into place to force ponies to learn how the engines operated, and the damage that could be caused when safety and respect was left back in the yard.

So I was happy when Ditchlight caved into his son and snuck me under the radar as a greaser. And the descent pay wasn’t a bad plus either.

A year later, Dusty was snuck in under that table with me, and we both worked together, starting as greasers and then working our way into the back shops. 

By the time we both hit 18, and “started” working for the railway in the shops, we were casting different connecting rods in the back shops. Which was a position that normally took two years itself to work up to, though no one seemed to ever connect the dots. 

I will say that I was a little annoyed that I still had to do my proper two years in the shops after the three I had already worked, but that was mostly just because I thought I had found a way to cheat the system and wasn't happy when I found out I was wrong. I did still have fun working as a back shop hoof for two years, but I was more then ready to hit the hoofplate when my time was up.

During the five years I spent working in the roundhouse, the one set of engines that always amazed me the most were the HG10’s. At the time I joined the railway workforce, the HG10’s were already seven years old, yet they were taken care of as if they were mares from Upper Canterlot. 

Being the pride of the lines freight traffic and all. 

Even when my time in the shops was drawing to a close, and I got closer and closer to the point where I could become an engineer, the HG10’s still looked and, according to engine crews, acted like they did when they first rolled off the assembly line. 

Apparently management had been paying attention to all the times I had been caught staring at, or requesting to work on, any HG10 that rolled into the shops. Let me tell you, when the day finally came where I was promoted to engineer and assigned an HG10, #9366, I actually thought it was a cruel prank.

My reason for thinking this was based on the fact that this was not normal. Usually engineers had to work their way up from yard shunters to even get a chance to run main line engines, let alone get put behind the controls of one of the most power engines ever built. I had a feeling that it had something to do with being the grandson to the line famous Hotbox, but Ditchlight never gave me a straight answer before he passed away years later. 

When I learned that Coal Dust had been assigned to be my fire-pony, I physically couldn’t stop smiling until the next morning. 

As I learned the line and how #9366 reacted to my inputs, and thus how I had to change me driving style to suit her, plus Dusty got his firing down, we began to quickly build a reputation. As a reputation that we could have anything put behind ol’ 66 and we’d find some way to get it over The Grade. 

This reputation, would soon after be put to the ultimate test. 

It was late summer, and the line’s busy season was in full swing. Added on to that, the week before there had been a disastrous fire in the factor sector of Canterlot, completely destroying a group of factories and foundries along with disintegrating multiple rows of worker housing. 

Thankfully there had been few injuries and all had been accounted for in the end. 

So on top of our normal rush freight, we also had miles and miles worth of cars sitting in our yards that had come from the overworked lumber yards along the Smokey Mountains, and coal mines and clay pits of the freshly returned Crystal Empire. 

It was absolute chaos for nearly a month, and it took less than a week for the side effects to start showing themselves along the entire line and among the whole freight roster. Even with all eighteen HG10’s we had running non-stop along with every other engine available, we couldn’t keep up with all the demands placed on the railway. It was just as much of a nightmare for the signaling and scheduling ponies to ensure traffic moved over the line as quick as possible, while keeping a safe distance between the trains and still allowing our regular services through.

The last three days of that first week, me and Dusty had been running #9366 up and down the line with nothing smaller than a 350 on her back, and the moment we dropped off one train, we'd turn, refuel, grease the rods, and hook up for our next. In total, Dusty and I had probably only gotten around five hours of sleep in our own beds between those three days, sneaking in little naps whenever we could while waiting in the yard. 

But I had never been happier. 

That had been what I joined the railway to do, sling trains up and down the line with a powerful engine at my beck and call, keeping the trains moving no matter what, even if that meant missing some sleep. 

Best days of my life. 

It was about seven in the evening in the middle of week two of the big rush, as I brought a load of empty hoppers to a stop on one of Vanhoover’s incoming tracks, ready to be shuttled back up to the Frozen North to be refilled. It was the seventh run we had done that day, and the two of us had been up for about twenty hours at that point.

#9366 had barely come to a stop when the yard master, Semaphore, jumped onto the hoofplate, “Stokes, Dusty, we need you and 66 now.” 

I was caught off guard by his sudden appearance, but I shook off the fatigue I was starting to feel and asked Semaphore, “What’s going on?” 

“We need you to haul a 650 up The Grade.” 

I was gobsmacked. I thought that they had gone crazy on Tuesday when they ordered me to haul a 475 up The Grade, which had been hard enough to get up the steep grades of Vanhoover, and that was with me breaking the speed limit on the flats. 

“Semaphore, I respect you, and you know that. But no offense, you've got to be mental if you think we can get a 650 up that two-nine near the summit. Besides, what's the point in us taking 650 instead of just breaking it up so we can actually get up the hill.” 

Semaphore sighed, “Under normal circumstances, I would break it up Stokes. But, you know as well as I do that The Grade is clogged with trains right now, and the yards are just as bad. If we broke that train up, it would deadlock us, and we’d be screwed.” 

I knew he had a point. But, for all the power she had, a 650 was just out of #9366’s capabilities. “As true as that may be Semaphore, it’s just not possible, and us stalling on The Grade would just deadlock everything anyway. We'd need a helper, and the only engine with enough power to be of any use is another HG10, and I know we don't have any spare ones just lying around.” 

Semaphore shook his head, “No, all the ones we have are either rostered for other trains, or in the shops because of the heavy use.” 

That’s when Semaphore’s eyes lit up, “Wait a second, in the shops! Smoke Box and Piston Rod are in the shops with #9329. The running gear was damaged when the roundhouse crew in Tall Tale didn’t grease it enough between runs. If you’re lucky, the shop crew might be done with it already.”

Semaphore had barely stopped speaking when I dropped down onto the gravel, “Come-on Dusty, we have no time to lose!” I yelled over my shoulder as I took off sprinting for the shops, with Coal Dust not far behind. 

We tore in and found Smoke Box and Piston Rod conveniently standing next to #9329, their HG10. They turned to us when they heard the door burst open behind them, “Stokes, Dusty, where’s the fire? I haven’t seen either of you run like that in years.” Piston Rod asked as we caught our breath. 

“Is 29 in working condition?” I asked, still slightly out of breath. 

Smokey and Piston looked at each other before returning their gaze to us. “Well yes and no. The milling machine they needed to replace the broken pins is down right now. They were able to jerry-rig something up so we could get to Tall Tale with a small train and have it properly fixed though.” Smoke Box stated. 

“Well what’s broken?” Dusty asked. I didn’t like what I was hearing. Having something like the running gear give out anywhere on the Vanhoover side of the grade was the last thing I needed to happen is we were going to have a 650 behind us. 

But, the probability of a failure changed depending on what was actually damaged. 

Smoke Box motioned for us to follow him and we rounded over to the other side of the locomotive. I could see that pins connecting the rods to the third wheel in the line, which is where the main rod connected to the drive rod, and the bell crank and valve rod were all showing signs of excessive friction and heat build up. 

In fact the main rod, a piece of high strength steel three inches thick and seven inches wide looked as if it was slightly bent!

“How in Celestia’s name did you bend the main rod?” I asked, astounded. 

Smoke Box rubbed the back of his neck with a hoof, “Full steam and slightly ceased pins didn't seem to mix well. When the shop ponies saw that, they pulled the cylinder apart to check the inner workings, and found a fatigue crack in the piston rod.” 

That felt like a punch to the gut. 

Heat ceased pins were one thing. A bent main rod wasn't too worrying, as long as you could squint your eyes till it seemed to look straight again. But a cracked piston rod, that was no joke. 

If the piston rod broke, it could leave the piston itself jammed inside the cylinder. If that happened the cylinder could easily explode due to built up pressure, severally diminishing the power #9329 had to offer and most definitely putting her out of action for at least two weeks

That's when Smoke turned to me, “Why do you ask?” 

It was now my turn to rub my neck, “They want us to take a 650 to Tall Tale.” 

The looks on Smoke Box’s and Piston Rod’s faces would have been priceless, it the severity of the situation hadn't been a factor. “The 10’s are powerful, but, that’s just insanity, you'll never make it up to the summit.” Piston Rod finally said. 

I nodded, “With one engine, sure, but two.......” 

Smoke Box immediately caught on, and eyebrow creased with concern, “I don’t know Stokes. They said to stay under a 200 with that piston and pins the way they are. Even with the both of us, that’s over three miles of train for each engines.” 

“I know. But we have to give it a shot, cause if we don’t, we’re screwed anyways. Sem already said that they wouldn't be trying to get me to take the train to begin with if not for the fact it would deadlock the yards.” 

"Come on Smoke, you know your mare over there has one more good run in her, lend us a hoof here. Besides, you're literally the only option we all have." Dusty added.

The two looked at each other, having a silent conversation between themselves for a few moments, before they turned back to us, “Alright Stokes, we’ll do it.” Smoke Box replied, with a little uneasy nod. I could help but to cracked a smile, “Let’s go make history.” I said as I stretched out my hoof.

Smoke Box couldn’t help himself, he broke into a grin and shook my outstretched hoof, while Piston Rod and Dusty shared a wide smirk. 

Less than a minute later we were in Semaphore’s office, “Alright, Smoke and Piston are in. Give us the lowdown.” 

Semaphore pulled out a clipboard from the piles of them on his desk, riffling through until he found the one with our orders, “You’re train is waiting in siding one, it was the only one long enough to fit the whole thing. The problem is Tall Tale has no room for it in their yard without breaking it up and deadlocking themselves, so they want you four to take it all the way to Canterlot.” 

That, made me feel like I had my head shut in a smoke box door. The run from Vanhoover to Canterlot at freight speed limit was a forty-two hour journey. I glanced over and saw that Smoke Box had a worried look on his face and Piston Rod had actually paled. 

An impressive feat for an already white stallion. 

“Take that train, all the way to Canterlot. Sem, I have no problem helping Stokes try and get it up The Grade, but 29 is still hurt. I don’t know if she’ll make it all the way to the summit, let alone all the way to Tall Tale. There's no way she's in any condition for a run all the way to Canterlot.” Smoke Box finally sputtered out. 

Semaphore sat there for a moment, thinking. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see if they can switch you out for another engine in Tall Tale. Hell, you might even get lucky and be able to kick the train over to the Appaloosan Sothern in Mustangia. But unless you get moving now, they’ll schedule everything for the morning trains.” 

We didn’t hesitate. As Smoke and Piston ran to get #9329 steamed up, Dusty and I went back to 9366, so we could pull off the train we had just brought in, and get prepped for the run. Within forty-five minutes, we had 66 and 29 coupled up to the front of enormous train. 

Even without the fading light of the sunset, I wouldn’t have been able to see the end of the train do to the shear length of it. 

But as I looked back at miles of ‘bathtub” gondola hoppers full of clay and coal, boxcars, tankers, and loaded flatcars of logs, I gulped. Three mile coal trains were some of the heaviest that we had to take over The Grade, and from the manifest, I had around four miles worth of coal sitting behind me when all was said and done. Add onto that over a mile of clay which wasn't exactly light either, and other mix of freight, I knew we were in for one hell of a fight to get up to the summit.

“Hey!” someone yelled from below me.

I looked down and saw Smoke Box holding a small walkie talkie, “Take this. Management picked up a few of these to help with these double header situations. They felt using these would be easier than using whistle codes.” 

I caught the walkie as Smoke tossed it up to my window, and was about to turn back to my controls when Smoke Box spoke up again, “Oh and Sem just let me in on something. Because of how, unusual, this run is, they aren’t going to let any other train up The Grade until we’re on Nightmare. So we won't have to worry about anypony sneaking up behind us on the big slog.” 

That made me feel a little better, even though it also made me feel like it defeated the purpose of us taking such a long train to easy congestion just a bit. Never the less, I nodded to Smoke as I hung the walkie off the document holder next to me, before turning to Coal Dust as he went over his gauges again. 

“How we looking Dusty?” 

“Everything is good, well by normal standards at least. This isn’t exactly normal is it though? I just don’t know what to expect.” 

I double checked his readings before adjusted a few valves on my side of the cab, “None of us do, we’re flying by the dock of our tails right now. Best we can do is prepare for the worst and hope for the best.” 

"More like that's the only thing we can do."

It was at moment the walkie cracked to life, ”We’re ready to roll when you are Stokes.” Smoke said.

I picked it up before hitting the button at the side, “Alright, we’re rollin. Take is easy as we get moving, last thing we need right now is a coupler stretching or tearing out of a car.”

"Roger." Was the simple reply I got back. 

I put it down before taking a deep breath, “Now or never.” I pulled the whistle cord and let out two long blasts to signal to Smoke Box to that I was releasing the brakes and to everypony around that we were about to start rolling out. 

Reaching forward and cracking the regulator slowly, I reached down with my free hoof to turn on the sand, the last thing we needed was to burn groves into the rails with wheel slip trying to get this overly heavy train moving. I opened up the regulator to the point where a train would normally start moving to pull the slack out of the couplers, only opening it further as I felt more and more weight pholding back against our engines.

I had opened the regulator more than double the amount I would normally have, and could tell by the tone of #9329 that Smoke had done the same, before the ground light at the end of the siding flashed four times, signaling that the entire train had began to move and all was good. 

We really got a feel the true weight of the train behind as as we pulled out of the yard, but as I brought the regulator up further to start gaining speed, I felt confident. We already had the train going 4 mph, and once we were out of the yard we had 10 miles to pick up speed before the start of The Grade. 

I picked up the walkie, “I'm going highball, need to build up as much speed as possible before we hit Moonlight.”

”Roger” Was again, all I got for a reply. 

I had, thankfully, gotten the chance to run double header a few times before, and with nearly a decade of experience on me, it was a simple fact Smoke Box had as well. Running double wasn't exactly a rare situation on our line thanks to the heavy gradients, however this was the first time HG-10's had run double header ever since they had been delivered. There was simply no point up until now.

The mountains loomed ahead of us with only three miles left before the start of the first climb. Things had gone well despite the challenges of our situation, and we had managed to accelerate up to 40 mph with our speed still slowly climbing. As we made it around the first of what would soon be many steep turns, I could see the first change in gradient at the start of The Olde Grade proper, a “gentle” 1.9% climb. As I watched the mountain grow closer, I thought about what was to come. 

We had our work cut out for us to pull this off, and we all knew it. 

The Olde Grade was brutal enough to climb on the Tall Tale side, but that end had nothing on the challenges that faced an engine crew on the Vanhoover side. Tall Tale was pretty much a "straight" 1.7-1.9% grade for 59 miles. Vanhoover may have only been a 40 mile climb, but the grades were much steeper. 

There were six main sections of the Vanhoover climb, the first was a three mile climb of a roughly 1.9% grade. This gave way to the second steepest and longest gradient on the whole line, an eleven mile climb at 2.5%, a section of track that had earned the nickname Moonlight Ledge. 

We then would get a bit of a break as the grade dropped back down to a 1.9% for another two miles, before being thrown up a 2.3% for eight miles, a climb known as Discord’s Drop due to the snaking nature of the track. It was probably the only place on the entire line we'd be able to see the caboose at the rear of our train.

We would then again get the luxury of a 1.9% for two more miles before the final push to the summit, and that was the piece of track that had all of us worried the most. The final climb was fourteen miles at a gradient of 2.9%, a piece of track that could only be properly described as an engineer’s nightmare. Kind of fitting that section of the line was known only by one name, The Nightmare. 

It could take an engineer years to master the climb out of Vanhoover with some of the heavier freight trains. But luckily for me, I had still had my trump card, #9366. These were the climbs she and her sisters had been built for, and it was time to show the mountain and all of Equis just what they were truly capable of. 

“You ready for a fight Smoke!” I yelled over the sound of 66 at the walkie as the point of no return came into view.

”You better believe it. Let's do this.” I heard him yell back. 

Seconds later we charged onto the first climb, and the real battle began. The bark of the engines grew louder as Smoke and I used the knowledge we had gained over our time of running the line to fight the grades trying to hold back the train. The first 1.9% climb thankfully didn’t do much to hold us back. We could really feel the weight of the train pulling on our engines now, but the two HG10’s were able to keep going without losing any speed. 

As we came took a corner and came around the edge of the mountain next to us, I caught sight of Moonlight Ledge for the first time that run. Moments later, we thundered onto the 2.5% grade at 45mph. 

Our work from here would only get harder as more of the train's weight was pulled onto the steeper piece of track, and it quickly showed in our speed. As we passed the 4 mile marker, we had already slowed down to 41 mph, with still another ten miles of 2.5% to go, not to mention the fact we still had to deal with the 2.9% near the summit. 

The the next twenty minutes were a hard fought battle of steam, metal, willpower, and knowledge, against weight, gravity, and friction. The timing of everything had to be near perfect between Dusty and I, more than usual, and in sync with Smoke and Piston to conserve as much speed as physically possible for the later parts of the climb.

But we had run double header together once before, if in smaller engines with a much lighter train behind us. But this at least meant we knew how to react to certain things, and how each other drove their engine. 

Thanks to this, despite the fact our speed dropped down to 27mph, we crested Moonlight Ledge and stepped down to the second 1.9%. As the miles worth of freight cars started to follow the engines onto the step down, we began to gain precious speed once again. 

With only one mile remaining on this piece of 1.9%, the walkie at my hooves cracked to life, ”Stokes, I’m a little worried about 29. That wounded cylinder is starting to let off a weird tone, and steam’s starting to leaking out of the bottom of the back plate. I don’t know how much longer it’s gonna last.”

That was among the list of things that I really did not want to hear at that moment. Turning to look back past the tenders of #9366 at the right cylinder of #9329 as we came around a corner, I was trying to spot the leak for myself to judge how bad it was. Sure enough, there was a small, but constant, steam cloud coming out of the back of the cylinder near the ground, just like Smoke Box had said. 

Looking back at the line ahead of us, to see Discord’s Drop coming into view, then up at the speedometer and saw that we had been able to climb up to 32mph, I ran through the situation as quickly as I in my head to form a plan. Looking back out at the next climb, I picked up the walkie, “I saw what you’re talking about, that cylinder is definitely leaking. Take it easy on the Drop. It's only a 2.3%, so if you give what you can and I give everything 9366 has, then I think we’ll be ok. Preserve that cylinder for the final battle.” 

I knew Smoke would understand what I meant. We still had to worry about The Nightmare, and if we lost 9329 on Discord Drop, their was no scenario that ended in us making it onto the summit.

"You sure 66 will be able to manage that without us loosing too much speed? The more momentum we have when we hit Nightmare, the better right?"

"Honestly, no. But getting up Nightmare will be completely out of the question if you loose that cylinder on Discord Drop. It's not a perfect solution, but its the best one we got."

”Roger that Stokes.” was the only thing I got for a reply. 

With that, I put down the walkie, and prepared for a fight. When we hit the beginning of Discord’s drop, I knew we would still have over three miles of train on Moonlight ledge, which mean I would have to fight against three different grades the 2.3, 1.9, and 2.5. 

I set my resolve, this was going to be the run of a lifetime whether we got to the summit or not. Looking over at Dusty to see how he was holding up, to find him completely engrossed in the readings on his gauges and adjusting the numerous controls he had to keep track of. I did just happened to catch the hint of worry in his eyes as ours met for just a moment before I focused back on my own controls, I'm sure he saw that same concern in mine, because I was definitely feeling it.

That was when we hit the Drop. 

I fought the forces of gravity with the brute strength the HG10 possessed as we climbed. Thankfully, it was easier to climb this grade than the 2.5. But without #9329 fully backing me up, it was still a loosing battle to keep going. 

Another 25 minutes later, we crested the top of Discord’s Drop, and slanted down onto the last 1.9 at 18mph. I really was not a fan of how slow the train had gotten by that point, but I had done everything in my power to maintain as much of it as I could, the weight of the train on one engine was simply too much for #9366 to overcome on her own

By now it had been nearly two and a half hours since we had left Vanhoover, and on any normal run, we’d already have made it over the summit and started down the other side of the mountain. But this scenario was far from normal, and our day was far from being over. By now, it had started to turn dark, and I clicked 66’s headlight on. The steam powered lamp shone brightly in the coming night, lighting up the night and reflecting off the steel rails of our final challenge 

I picked up the walkie again, “This is it Smoke, you ready?” 

”Yep. We built up a good head of steam on the Drop, feel if 29’s gonna fail, might as well go out going over the top.” 

The little laugh that left me was much appreciated to distract from the stress I was feeling at that moment, just like Smoke to turn a stressful situation comical. We made it over the 1.9 relatively quickly, or at least it felt like we did, and soon we were staring down the last thing left between us and the summit, Nightmare. 

The sight of the 2.9% grade made me gulp, this was going to be the real challenge of the run, one that would make or battles up Moonlight Ledge and Discord's Drop appear as if we had been running along flats. I glanced over to Coal Dust again, we had spoken barely a word to each other since we hit the first climb. The two of us often got like that when we were focused on getting up these steep climbs with heavy trains. “How’s things holding up over there Dusty?” I called over the impressive sound of the engine. 

“We’re doing ok, but with the way we’ve been fighting, I don’t think we’ll make it to Tall Tale with what we have in the tenders.” He said, pointing a hoof back at the opening to the coal tender and the gauge next to it that displayed the water level in the rear tender. 

Sure enough, we had already gone through over half our coal load, and squinting at the water level in the glass, the rear tender wasn’t doing much better. “We’ll have enough to get over the summit, we can stop Stareston and fuel up.” I stated as returned my attention to the line ahead

Stareston, was the strangely named logging facility on the Tall Tale side of the grade, about 14 miles off the summit. It was one of the places trains coming from the Vanhoover side of The Olde Grade would stop to refuel so they could make it the rest of the way to Tall Tale. 

On a normal day, we’d fly right past in #9366, as she was built to make the trip without having to stop for a top up. But, as I kept having to remind myself, this whole run was as far from our norm as one could get. 

Watching Nightmare loomed closer in the distance, I checked our speed again and cursed under my breath, we had only sped up to 24mph. Looking back up at the heavy grade again, I caught sight of a train coming down the other side. It was a passenger train, with a very distinct engine leading it. 

Now you see, the HG10’s had been such a big success, that 2 years after their delivery, management wanted a version made up for the line's express passenger services. The end product was the TT8 express locomotive. 

They used the same cab, cylinders, boiler, firebox, and tenders as the HG10, making them easy to work on for anyone who had driven or maintained a HG10. The only difference between the HG10 and the TT8, were the drive wheels. While the HG10 had a set of ten, 58 inch drivers, the TT8’s had eight monstrous 92 inch drive wheels. This is where the class name came from, standing for Tall Tall Eight Wheeler.

These wheels were the largest diameter drivers ever used on a locomotive of any type. The over seven foot tall wheels had a side effect of changing a lot of things to do with the locomotive, even though they were put on the same chassis as the HG10. For example, even with one less axle than the HG10, the wheel area of the TT8 was 16 feet larger than her freight hauling cousin, 64 feet to the HG10’s 48. Because of this, the frame of the locomotives had to be extended, which allowed the drive wheels to take more of the firebox weight compared to the HG-10's, meaning that a smaller rear truck could be used. Thus there were only four trailing wheels, and the eight foot gap of the HG10 was eliminated, leaving the TT8 with a final wheel arrangement of 6-8-4. 

The wide diameter drivers mixed with the cylinders off the HG-10's gave their passenger hauling cousins the highest top speed of any engine on the line. Honestly, we didn’t know the actual top speed of the TT8, the highest it had ever been clocked was 112mph, just a hair under the world wide speed record at the time of 119. But the engineer of that train had said her locomotive still had plenty left to give, but another good opportunity to find out had never really presented itself. 

The only downside to having the large wheels were they took a drastically bite out of the TT8’s tractive effort. While the HG10 was in the range of 380,000ilf, the TT8 had been measured to be just a hair under 240,000ilf. Despite this fact, the TT8 had no problem climbing The Grade with 24 heavy metal passenger cars. 

As this TT8 came closer, I was able to make out the number on the lit up display boards next to her headlight at the top of the smoke box, 9400, the first member of the class. I had to smile, and pulled on the whistle cord, sending out the distinct whistle of the Guild of Railwaymen across the vast night covered hills. 

The other engine replied back with a Guild whistle of her own as she drew closer still. That was one of the greatest sounds I ever had the chance to experience. Three HG10s, basically, thundering and barking through the hills of the Smokey's, sending out the Guild’s whistle. 

My attention was pulled to the cab of the TT8 as it drew closer. Everypony on the line knew that there was only one crew that was allowed touch the controls of that engine, Spotlight and Knuckle. 

Spotlight, the son of Ditchlight, and had been around the railway ever since it had been formed 50 years previous, and had been working on for the last 40 years. Even though he was getting on into his late fifties, and had started to take over control of the railway a few months earlier when his father started to have worsening health problem, along with the help of Bulkhead and Highball’s sons, Bulkhead junior and Big Red, he still ran trains. 

He felt that the only way to help the ponies of the railway was to work beside them, see what they see. 

As #9400 thundered past, Spotlight threw a piece of coal from his engine to ours, landing on our footplate with practiced ease and accuracy. Wrapped around the lump of coal was a note. Untying the note, I held it up towards one of the back lit gauges to read, Sorry we had to stick you with this Stokes. Good luck, you got this. 

I smiled, folding the note and placing it in my denim’s pocket as we approached Nightmare at 28mph. “Here we go!” I yelled as I adjusted a few of my controls and held onto the regulator tightly. 

And then we were on it. 

After learning their engine inside and out, an engineer develops the ability to feel what their train was doing through the vibrations in their seat. As we climbed further up onto the steep section of track, I could feel the train pulling more and more on the couplers of the engines, and the locomotives start to buck as they worked hard to keep moving.

“How you holding up back there Smoke?” I asked as we passed the 28 mile marker. 

”I’m getting a weird shake in the seat. I got a feeling this cylinder won’t last for too much longer, and it doesn't seem like our only problem now.” 

That was the last thing I wanted to hear. We still had twelve miles left to climb, and were already slowing down to 20mph. If I lost #9329, I knew there was no way #9366 would make it to the summit. 

“Don’t do anything stupid, I feel like getting home tonight.” 

”We’re already doing something stupid, but I'll do the best I can Stokes.” 

We climbed further and further up the 2.9% grade, but it was slow goings. By the time we had made it to the halfway point of Nightmare, we were only going 12mph. 

I was giving the old girl everything she had, and I could feel her shaking from it. It felt like the wheels were trying to break grip and slip, but with the amount of sand being laid down on the rails, it just wouldn’t happen. 

And she was not liking it, the train already being pulled down to 15 mph.

“Smoke box, I’m not liking the looks of this.” 

”Me either. You got a plan?” 

I sighed, “Go till we can’t. Who knows, miracles are a thing.” 

So we soldiered on into the night at a crawl, yet we continued to steadily make ground. An hour ticked past without any of us realizing, we were too preoccupied with our tasks. With every turn of our wheels I was waiting to hear the treasonous sound of the cylinder on #9329 giving up the ghost, I was waiting for it, but still we climb on.

Finally, nearly two hours after we started to climb up Nightmare, we passed mile marker 39, at 7mph. We only had one more mile to go.

“Smoke, we almost got this, how you holding up?” 

”I don’t know. It feels like this cylinder should have given out awhile ago. So who knows.” 

That was no less worrying than it had been at the start of the climb, I would have liked to know if I was gonna lose 29, but since we were so close to the top, I pushed it to the back of my mind. She had lasted this long and climbed this far, surly she could hold on just a little longer and make it onto the summit.

So we continued on at 7mph, up the final stretch of the Vanhoover side of The Grade. Around ten minutes later, I could see the summit in my headlight. I nearly cried seeing the drop down just ahead of us, “We did it Dusty!” I yelled over to Coal Dust, who just turned to me and said, “Was there ever any doubt.” with that fake all knowing tone, as if he hadn't been shitting bricks like the rest of us since the moment we left the yard. We shared a laugh as I reached down to pick up the walkie again. 

Just as I went to key the mic.....

BANG

I had heard cylinders blow before, but this was different. It was louder, a deeper boom, and I felt my engine actually shake because of it. Whipping my head back and stretching my neck to see around the tenders, I could steam billowing out of the bottom of the left cylinder at a frighteningly fast pace. I found it weird that the steam was coming more out of the bottom instead of the back, but I was more concerned with getting the train onto the summit. 

”Stokes! I can’t keep going, the boiler pressure won’t hold!” 

“Give it everything you still have, we have to get some of the train on the summit to take the strain off 66. After that, you can lay off and leave the rest to me.” 

”If you say so.” was all I heard in reply, a reply filled with worry and doubt. 

We had been lucky that #9329’s cylinder blew with an engine’s length left before the summit. As I rolled onto the flat that was the summit, the air calmed down, if only just, yet I knew we weren’t in the clear yet. Not by a longshot. The locos might have been on the flat, but we still had more than six miles of train left on Nightmare trying to drag us back down the mountain. 

I could feel the strain on the couplers and on the drivers of my engine, and we were barely able to stay moving. We were creeping along at barely three miles per hour, and I could hear 29 struggling to give me any help. I could feel 66 bucking as she gave me everything she had to drag a train too heavy for her up the steepest grade in all of Equestria. But I couldn't pull back on the throttle and give her a break, if I did we'd stall completely without a hope of getting moving again.

If I hadn’t been sweating before, I certainly was now. “Coal, how’s the boiler pressure holding up?” I yelled over my shoulder as I continued to look back at 29 and the train as it started to come up onto the summit. 

“I’m having a hard time keeping up with her demands. I have a feeling we’re gonna need to join #9329 in the shop when we get back from Canterlot if this keeps up. We're straining her hard.” 

I could feel what he meant, 66 was acting strange and I was starting to think going all the way to Canterlot was going to do more bad than good. 

Then things went from bad to worse as my walkie cracked to life, ”Stokes, something’s not right. I can feel 29 shaking with each wheel turn, I think that the main axle rod is bent. I don’t know how much longer I can give her power.” 

Of all the things I needed added to this stressful situation, that was not one of them. The "main axle" was the third axle in the line of five, and was the one that received power from the three cylinders first, as it was the one that the center cylinder of the trio was directly connected to. The little bit of power that 29 was giving me was all that was keeping us moving at that point. Without her, there was no way I’d be able to get the rest of the train onto the summit. 

Looking back at the track ahead, I searched for a mile marker to give me an idea how far onto the summit we were. Luckily, I caught sight of the metal marker post just at the edge of the headlight's cone of view, showing 41. There was five miles of train still on Nightmare, but that one mile of train on the summit was at least one less mile of train creating drag on the 2.9. 

I was hoping that we could get at least two more miles of train onto the summit before losing #9329 for good. That would leave three and a half miles of train on Nightmare, and I had to hope that #9366 was going to be more happy with a normal train’s length and weight still on the heavy grade, but there was only one way to find out. 

Giving a glance up to the speedometer, I saw that we were still holding at three miles per hour, though it seemed like it was itching to get up past four. That was good, we might none have been gaining speed like I wanted, but at least we weren't loosing speed anymore. We stayed like that for almost another hour, creeping along with a struggle, barely gaining speed as we pulled more of the train onto the summit. 

But finally the mile marker 44 came into view, and as we passed it at 9mph, I radioed back to Smoke, “Alright Smoke Box, over half the train’s on the summit. You can lay off, I should be able to handle getting the rest up on my own.”

”If you say so Stokes. I can't believe that...” Smoke Box didn’t get a chance to finish as a loud snap came through my walkie, along with the rhythmic sound of something hitting wood as we passed over the ties holding up the tracks. 

”Celestia damn it, I think we snapped the main axle Stokes. You’re on you’re own from here. Piston, go under there and see what you can do. Don’t need management breathing down our necks about needing to replace every tie from here to Tall Tale.”

I gulped hearing Smoke say that, before I set the regulator to keep us at our current speed and rushed over to Coal Dust’s side of the cab just in time to see Piston Rod already on the mesh running boards that down the length of 29’s boiler. 

I knew what those two were planning, and I didn't like it one bit. We watched as Piston lit his horn and cast a spell, it was one that all unicorns who had worked in the shop committed to memory. The spell basically made the hooves whoever it was cast on into magnets, allowing them to easily stick to the components of locomotives. It was quite useful when used in a shop setting. The now magnet hooved Piston Rod then slowly climbed under the boiler, using the connection bar of the rear truck to slide into the eight foot gap, just behind the still turning drivers.

Piston was doing this so he could get a better idea of what had happened to his engine, and I knew that was important, especially if they had snapped the main axle. But I also knew that what he was doing was unendingly stupid. 

Even with his magnet hooves, it would only take one missed step or bad bump in the track, and Piston would be a goner. Besides that, being just inches away from the firebox and boiler, which, as anyone could imagine, are incredibly hot, risked him burning himself and loosing focus on the spell, something that would also lead to a very bad outcome 

Coal Dust and I held out breath as we waited and hoped that Piston would soon climb back out uninjured, the seconds seeming to tick by like hours, the air growing more tense with each one that passed. Thankfully, after a few tense moments, Piston Rod climbed out from underneath #9329 and waved to us, signaling he was ok. The two of us let out a deep sigh or relief and watched him climb back into the cab of #9329, before I returned  to my seat and picked up the walkie, “How’s it looking down there?” 

Not surprisingly, Piston Rod’s voice came back, ”We were right, snapped the main axle rod, and the crank rod from the middle piston was smacking the ties. I fused it to the bottom of the boiler, and set the cylinder direction valve to neutral, so any steam that goes in will just come back out. But there is no way we can give you any help besides braking.” 

I knew what he meant by fused, another spell shop unicorns learned. It allowed them to temporarily “weld” metal together. It wasn't really structural integrity, and was mostly just used to hold pieces in place so they could be properly welded. In this situation, It was basically just a quick fix to keep us moving and not ruin the rails under our hooves. It was then what Piston Rod said about the condition of their engine actually sunk in. I couldn't say I was really that surprised to hear how bad 29 was, but it was still shocking to hear it actually be said.

“Alright, just sit back and take a break then, not much else you can do now, or that we can do about it. Don’t need to make 29 any worse than she already is.” I then sat back down and took inventory on the condition of the rest of the train, we had managed to climb back up to 12mph and were holding. That however was simply because I hadn’t adjusted the reverser to allow the train to gain more speed. Pulled the reverser back a little bit and closed the regulator just slightly, trying to make Dusty’s job of keeping up with the hungry engine’s demands a little easier, I sat there on my seat in silence as I watched the speedometer once again start to climb. A few minutes later, I caught sight of another mile marker, this one showing the number 46. 

“Well, looks like we’re mostly on the summit now, so it should be somewhat smooth sailing from here on out.” I pointed out to Dusty, not really expecting a reply and unsurprisingly not receiving one. We still had a mile left before the Dragon Tooth bridge, but even with that distance, I could see the black abyss that was the cutting that held the river that the bridge spanned. 

By the time we hit the bridge, we had increased our speed to 19mph, as the last of the train had been pulled off the Nightmare grade and onto the summit, drastically reducing the strain on #9366. At that point it was almost midnight, and as I stared into the darkness ahead of us, I felt the stress of last few days and especially today catching up with me. 

I wavered a little bit as my eyes tried to shut on me and force me to sleep. I fought against it the best I could, but the build up of fatigue was hard to hold back any longer. Dusty yelled over to me as I nearly fell out of my seat when my eyes drifted shut again, “Hey Stokes, you good over there!”

That snapped me back from the verge of sleep, and I shook my head vigorously to try and force myself back awake, “Yeah I’m good Coal Dust. Four days of constant runs on five hours of sleep is finally starting to catch up with me.” 

Coal Dust nodded, then turned back to his gauges again, I could tell he was starting to feel the strain just as much as I was just by the look I caught in the back of his eyes. I was really not looking forward to the near day and a half trip to Canterlot. I turned and again looked out at the night trying to keep my mind active with spotting the track ahead, only to last about another two minutes before I almost fell asleep again.

“Stokes. Stokey! Fire Stoker!” Coal Dust yelled as he saw me almost fall out of my seat once more. 

I quickly jerked myself back into place and shook my head again before Coal spoke again, “Maybe we should ask someone else to take the train the rest of the way to Canterlot when we get to Tall Tale. I wouldn't mind getting some actual sleep and you definitely need some.” 

“Dusty, while I would love to catch up on multiple hours of missed sleep, the railway needs us right now. The other crews are so busy that, if I have to pull some extra weight, and stop by Reefer's coffee shop and get a couple extra espresso coffees again, than that’s what I’ll do.” 

Coal Dust shook his head, “Stokes, I understand you're a stallion of the rails and won't turn down an order, but use some common sense bro. If you won't hear it from me, than think of it this way, your grandad taught you to have respect for the railway and its equipment because of how easy it is for it to kill you or others right?” I nodded. “Well how much respect are you showing by putting yourself and others in danger because you're nearly falling asleep on the hoofplate because you're too stubborn to ask for somepony else to take the train? What would Hotbox think of that, or better yet your father?”

Everypomy on the railway knew that if I started to get too stubborn for my own good, I could get brought back down to Equis if Hotbox was mentioned. I was a very thick headed pony in my youth, I guess we all are in our own way, and tended to take Hotbox's teaching a little too literally. But the one thing I refused to do, outright and completely refused, was to embarrass my grandfather and his name. I would not let his name and legacy get muddied and tarnished by my actions, not after he disappeared. 

However, I was shocked and slightly hurt that Coal Dust brought up my dad. Bringing up dead rail ponies like that was something we just didn't do. 

When I didn’t immediately say anything back, Dusty spoke up again with his voice tinged in guilt, “Hey Stokes, I’m sorry that I brought up Dad. I shouldn't have done that, and I know you don’t like us using Hotbox against you”

“No, no, it’s alright Coal Dust. You were right. I’m being stubborn and letting my pride get in the way of doing my job properly. We’ll stop in and talk with Files or, somepony, when we get to Tall Tale and have them assign the train a new set of crews.” 

Coal just nodded before he turned back to his work, and I did the same. We didn’t speak again till we were well over the summit and coasting down the 1.7% grade on the other side. 

As we past one of the signal boxes further down the line, I blew #9366’s whistle in a specific pattern, signaling we needed to make a stop in Stareston to refuel. I watched as the signal ahead of us changed to yellow, signaling we’d need to slow down for the cross over into Stareston for the fuel-up three miles up. 

Keeping an eye out, it wasn't long before the next signal came into view, another yellow and an arm pointing off to the right showing that the switch had been thrown and that we were about to move over into the Stareston yard. As I brought the train to a stop in the yard, which was nowhere near big enough to fit the entire train, with our tender under the coal hopper, Coal Dust spoke up once again, “Hey Stokes, I’m sorry again that  I, brought up your dad like that. It was bad enough I used Hotbox against you like that, I shouldn't have brought him into it too.” 

I sighed as I fully applied the brakes, ensuring the train would stay in place as we coaled up, “It’s alright Dusty, honest. Like I said back up on the summit, I was being overly stubborn and pig headed, and wouldn't listen to reason. You brought my family into the conversation because you knew that it would make me listen to reason, so just do me a favor and drop it alright?”

I could tell that Dusty didn’t want to drop it, but he would instead just give me a nod, “Alright Stokey, I’ll drop it. But I’m here if you want to talk about him again.” 

Unable to find the right thing to say in response, I would instead climb out of the cab and onto the tenders to fill them up. 

It took about twenty minutes to completely fill the first tender with coal from its quarter filled state, during which I nearly fell asleep three times, being scared out of my wits each time I woke up to the feeling of nearly falling back of the tender and to the ground below. After the coal was dealt with, I climbed across to the water tender to start filling that. 

As I pulled down the waterspout, I noticed white light coming from underneath #9329, and a few moments later Piston Rod crawled out from under his engine. 

“What’cha doing down there Piston?” I called as I pulled the cord and began to fill the tender with water. 

The dirtied white stallion turned to me as he dusted off his denims, “I was trying to see if there was some way to reinforce the main axle so we don’t have to worry about it causing the drive rods to lock up.” 

“Have any luck?”

He shook his head, “No not really. Not much I can do without the torches that are down in Tall Tale.”

Giving a shrug back, I watched him climb back up into the cab of #9329, most likely to grab a power nap. Eventually, the water tender was full, and I put the water spout back up before working my way back towards the cab. 

Climbing back in, I found Coal Dust getting a nap in himself, propped up against the window of the cab with his cap pulled down over his eyes. I rolled my eyes and was about to go wake him up when I thought of something. With how bad 66 had been bucking back on the top of Nightmare, and the weird feeling I had been getting the rest of the way down, I was concerned that we had done some damage to our running gear as well, and chose to climb down out of the cab to inspect them.

However, I was not ready for what I saw when I started checking them over. Now I had asked Piston and Smoke how they had bent the main rod of 29 when we were back in Vanhoover, but now I fully understood how. The main rod of #9366 was bent terribly, to the point that I now had a reason to worry about my drive rods locking up. The main rods on 29 had been bent out of place by about half an inch at most, probably less. But the ones on 66 were nearly two inches out of alignment. Now I knew that we couldn’t take #9366 to Canterlot, it was just wasn't going to happen 

Knowing there wasn't much I could do besides limp my old mare home, I turned around and climbed back into the cab, shaking Coal Dust awake before taking my seat once more, “Get up Dusty, we’re heading out.” He nodded, and with a blow of the whistle and a release of the brakes, we were moving again. 

By the time we got into Tall Tale, it was nearly five in the morning, and I was happy to see the end of the longest run over The Grade that anyone would ever complete, the whole journey having taken roughly ten hours, more then double what a normal run would. We brought the train to a stop on the incoming track before uncoupling, and slowly pulling 29 off with us. 

Once we had moved off and out of the way, I trotted over to the yard master’s office, where he informed me that two 4-8-4 freight engines that had been in the shop for maintenance had been finished up and were rostered to finish the run to Canterlot. I was happy to hear that, and quickly made my way back to #9366, watching as the two “new” locomotives made their way out of shop bays 6 and 7, which were quickly reoccupied by #9329 and #9366. 

By the time the four of us started to make our way to the bunk houses, it was nearly six in the morning, and I was well past over tired. I don't remember that walk, pretty sure I was just sleep walking and happened to find my way back to my room and bed by memory and luck. I didn’t wake up until 7 that night. 

The first thing I did was go check on #9366, and got the lowdown on her damages. Turned out that when 66 had been serviced the week before, the main rods had been replaced due to fatigue cracks. But, due to the fire in the Canterlot foundries, they had to cast the rods out of cheaper metal on the weaker machinery that hadn't been damaged, which evidently, was not strong enough to handle the power of the HG-10. 

It would be a week before either 66 or 29 were in condition to go back to work on The Grade, by that point the rush was starting to die down and we would soon after be back to running our normal busy schedule. That was the only time The Grade would ever see a train of that size. There would be ones that would hit 580’s, and even as big as a 600 once or twice, but a train over six miles long would never again grace the metals of the Smokey mountains. However, after a near runaway situation with a 600 heading to Vanhoover, management put into place a rule that no matter what, trains could not exceed five miles long. 

Two years later, the only engines capable of double heading a 500, were banned from use.