It took nearly two months to fully assemble the case against Blueblood, who spent that time in CCF along with his other five cohorts. When he finally went to court, he was charged with and found guilty of a whole host of charges.
They were, and this is a long list, and it’s been a few years so bear with me, 2 counts of false imprisonment, 93 counts of forgery, 86 counts of bribery, perjury, 137 counts of ponyslaughter in all three degrees, 2,144 counts of neglect, 2,144 counts of reckless endangerment (one for each of the original employees of the railway), severe violations of workplace safety regulation, embezzlement of an extreme degree (that charge was invented just for him), impersonating a government official, impersonating royalty (turned out he forged Celestia’s signature both of the times he sent guards to Tall Tale), fraud, conspiracy, and treason against the crown.
Just a small fraction of these charges would have put Blueblood away for life, so needless to say he was sentenced to life in prison. His conspirators weren’t hit with all of these charges as well, but the 2,144 counts of neglect and endangerment were enough to secure their own spots in prison on their own life sentences.
I find it somewhat ironic that, while his conspirators were to carry out their sentences at CCF, Blueblood was to carry out his at the Vanhoover Correctional Facility, a facility that just so happened to be located near to the track we owned that ran through Vanhoover and then up to the Crystal Empire.
I’m sure he loved hearing the sounds of what caused his downfall everyday he spent in his own solitary confinement cell.
But enough about him, I’ve said my peace about what I think about him. Once we made it back to Tall Tale, I wasted no time doing two things. First, signing my name on my ownership document, so that nopony got the idea to try this again. And second, I hooved control of the railway back to Spotlight, Bulk Jr., and Big Red.
We split the ownership evenly, just like it had been once upon a time when it was controlled by Ditchlight, Bulk Senior, High Ball, and Hotbox. While I had not problem with taking over control of the railway in time, I wasn’t ready for it yet. After we had that squared away, and the bits I was owed started flowing in from the nobles, there were a lot of things that needed attention on the line.
The first thing that we addressed was the reconstruction of the Dragon Tooth River bridge. While that was going on, the other important fact concerning the condition of the roster, specifically, the recommissioning of both all the HG-10’s and TT-8’s that had spent the “four years of tyranny”, as we ended up calling it, behind the Tall Tale backshops.
It took nearly a year before the line’s equipment and track was back up to spec with what we had back before the noble take over. The railway’s old employee’s even began coming back to take up their old jobs, which both Red Hot and Blow Torch appreciated as both of their shops were slammed with work rebuilding engines for nearly eight months. The first engine to have her rebuild completed was #9366, a bit of a thank you from the backshop ponies to me for saving the railway.
As the years carried on, the railway returned to its prime, and we were happy to see that. There really wasn’t much left in the way of evidence that hinted to the noble’s control, with the only remaining evidence being the rebuilt #3800, which we bought off the Appaloosan and Southern and put to service ourselves, and the crumpled remains of #97 and #771, the Crystal Northern 2-10-4. #97 and #771 were not rebuilt like #3800, as they were kept as reminders to the incident that helped save the line, and nearly destroyed it at the same time.
But, as time went on, and the railway grew, things changed. Four years after the noble expulsion from the railway, things had grown so much that not only did the roster need to grow again, but so did the shops. Even though Blow Torch had been able to manage as the chief mechanic of the Tall Tale backshops for years, with the size increase of the shops, he needed help in managing it.
Red Hot, despite the fact that her home had been the Vanhoover shops since she started working for the railway, was all too happy to move across the mountain to Tall tale to lend him a hoof. This had the added effect of me being able to spend more time with her. Well one thing led to another as they often do, and three years later, I married Heat Temper, with our first born coming two years later, and our second three years after that.
We named our Hotbox after my grandfather, who was nearly in tears when we told him the news, and our second after myself. Speaking of my grandfather, after his return to Tall Tale, he had a new house built nearby the dispatch center.
He didn’t return to running engines, but he was more than happy to help in running the line, up until he passed away in his sleep 37 years later, at the age of 98.
It was hard saying goodbye to him for good, but I was just happy to know that he had spent his final years around the ponies he loved. Anyways, back to the changing times on the railway. 15 years after we re-took control of the line, a new main line was built through the Smokey Mountains linking Tall Tale and Vanhoover, one that was not as steep as The Olde Grade.
This led to much of the passenger traffic the line handled being sent along the new main, which was nicknamed, “The Fast Hills Line”. The Olde Grade was still used, but it was most relegated to freight traffic. But, as time moves on, advancements come, and older tech is replaced. Diesels appeared on the nation’s railways about ten years before Hotbox’s passing, and their advantages over steam were easy to see.
But, despite their lists of advantages over steam power, I was never a huge fan of them, and neither were many of the other railway workers. We kept steam power around as long as we could, and became the last Class A railroad to have a fully steam roster in the nation.
Yet, we could not hold out forever, and eventually, we were forced to faced facts, and switched from steam power, to diesel traction. Diesel power took over The Fast Hills Line first, before eventually claiming the freight traffic over The Olde Grade.
The last steam hauled train to travel the metals of The Olde Grade was a 5 mile long iron ore train, from Vanhoover to Tall Tale. It was like a reenactment of history, with 9366 and 9329 leading a train over The Olde Grade that only their class could handle. Myself, Coal Dust, Smoke Box, and a much more experienced Fire Box were of course given the honor of running commanding our two HG-10’s at the head end.
Along with us, I had Hotbox, Red, and my two sons Hotbox and Fire Stoker Jr. in the cab of ‘66 with me and Dusty, while Smoke and Fire Box were more than happy to have Ash Pan, Crankshaft, and Blastpipe ride with them. It was set up perfectly so that the run fell on the day of my 50th anniversary of working for the railway, and when we arrived in Tall Tale and hooved over the train to the yard crew, it was with solemn hearts that Myself, Dusty, Ash, Crank, Blastpipe, and Smoke Box retired from running trains.
It was a sad day for the railway to lose all of us on the same day, but with each of us serving for at least 50 years, except for Dusty at 49, we had earned our retirement.
Sadly, it would be later that year that Hotbox passed, it was a rough year for all of us.
“Wait, so you only retired 12 years ago?” I looked over at my 10 year old grandson, Fire Stoker the third, or Little Stokey as we had taken to calling him. We were sat next to the southbound track on The Olde Grade, taking a break from the hike we had been doing for the last five days.
Over that time, I had been telling him the story that I passed down to all my children and grandchildren, the story of how I “saved” the railway. I never felt it was really me who saved it, I was just in the right place, at the right time, with the right resources backing me up. But, no matter what I felt, all the other ponies of the Smokey’s felt it was me who saved the line.
I nodded as I stood up, “Well, retired from running trains at least. I took over running the railway properly, with the help of your uncle. Your father only recently joined me in the office, you were only six when he started helping.”
I stretched a bit before motioning for him to stand as well, “Come on, there’s not much left before the summit, we’ll get there today.” Little Stokey nodded, and followed after me. This hike was something I had taken both of my children, and all four of my other grandchildren already, Little Stokey was the last one left I needed to complete it with. Even though I was now getting on into my late seventies, the hike didn’t slow me down, and I could still pull my weight like a 30 year old back shop colt.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, Little Stokey spoke up again, “So, what happened to the steam roster?”
I sighed, “Well, unforchunetly, because of how big of a roster we had at the time we ended steam, we couldn’t save all the locomotives. Even some of the HG-10’s and TT-8’s were sent to meet the cutter’s torch. It broke my heart to do that. But, surprisingly few of them met that fate, only 13 TT-8’s and 9 HG-10’s were scrapped, most of the remaining engines we sold to Crystal Northern. They still use them on their fast supply trains and long bulk drags from the northern mines. Never really were able to find diesel units that could handle both the severe cold and long trains. However, two HG-10’s and one TT-8 currently reside in the National Railway Museum in Canterlot.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see Little Stokey’s confused face, “Which ones are in the NRM?” I turned around and flashed a big smile, “Only the record breaking trio themselves, #9366, #9329, and #9414.” I saw Little Stokey’s eyes light up, “#9366 is in the NRM!”
I chuckled, “Yes, yes she is. We couldn’t let the world record trio go to the scrap yard. So when the NRM approached me to purchase them when news got around that the engines were up for sale, I was more than happy to work with them. I didn’t even charge them for the engines, I was just happy to know that they were safe.” That’s when I let my smile grow, “I was actually going to introduce you to the three of them when you come with me and your dad to the Guild Assembly in two months.”
The Guild Assembly was the name of the bi-yearly meeting of all the representatives of the Guild Of Equestrian Railwaymen. My grandfather’s plan had been put into action two years after the whole fiasco with Blueblood, and ever since, it had been a great tool at helping the railways of the nation run smoothly. Every railway in the nation, from the biggest lines covering hundreds of miles to the smallest that barely covered ten miles, had a representative in the Guild. Along with this, the nation was broken into six regions, each having their own representative.
I became, and still was, the rep for the T.T.M.S.L., and Hotbox was the rep for the Smokey Mountain region, until his retirement a few years before his death. After that, control of the region was passed to Coal Dust’s son, Crushed Ash, by recommendation of Hotbox.
He hadn’t recommended either of his great-grandchildren because we had both decided that one of them would take over my position as the railway’s rep when I eventually retired.
So, when all was said and done, the assembly was made up of around 35 ponies, each of us with decades of railroading experience, and we all had one goal in mind, keeping the railways running to the best of our abilities. Along with us, were Equestria’s three Princesses, Celestia, Luna, and Twilight, along with Princess Cadence of the Crystal Empire. She came because we had members of the Guild in the Empire, and it was always nice to see them, learn how their HG-10’s and TT-8’s were holding up.
It still got a chuckle out of me when the Princesses would pull me aside at the end of the Assembly and thank me, apparently our meetings were on a very short list that the Princesses actually enjoyed attending. Even though Luna, and to a degree Twilight, were the only ones who were actually interested in the different railroads like we were, they all loved the assembly for one reason. That was the fact that everything was very laid back.
When all was said and done, under the mask of being a conference on the running of the nation’s railways, the Assembly was just a bunch of common rail ponies coming together to help each other. No nobles, no games, not political goals. It had been quiet nerve-racking in the first few years of Assembly, what with being in the presence of the Princesses and all.
But after a while, we were able to get over that hump, and now it was like we were all friends in a bar after getting off shift, Princesses included. The Princesses had really gotten into the swing of things when they stopped wearing their regalia to the Assemblies, doing their best to appear as just another member of the Guild.
It still blew all our minds that the Princesses not only enjoyed, but waited with anticipation for those two times of the year to come around. Hearing that always put a smile on my face, made me feel like we were doing things right.
I watched as Little Stokey’s eyes lit up, and a massive grin grew on his face, “You’re taking me to the Guild Assembly!” I couldn’t help but grin and chuckle at my grandson, “Yes, you’re coming with us when we go. Now come on, we only have a bit left.” He nodded, and we began our hike again.
But a few minutes later, Little Stokey spoke up again, “Wait, you never fully answered my question, what happened to the rest of the roster?” “Well, as I said, we couldn’t save all of them, but we did save a fair few of them. When we finally dropped steam, we had 493 engines on our roster. 307 of them survive to this day, and 187 of them are in operational condition if I remember correctly.” After that, we continued our walk in silence for awhile, reaching the end of the Tall Tale side of The Olde Grade.
As we rounded a corner, we caught sight of the signal bridge that was set before the switch for the summit’s single track. “Is that the signal bridge you got suck under with #3800?” I nodded, “Yep, that’s the one. There’s no evidence left from that day, it was all destroyed when we rebuilt The Grade. All that’s left is the plague that we put up.” I said, motioning towards the metal plague welded to the signal bridge.
“Why did you put all of these plagues up? I understand the ones used to mark the sites where crews were lost, but what about the others?”
I sighed, and motioned for him to sit down on the rail with me, “It’s because we didn’t want ponies to forget. Almost all the plagues detail accidents that happened during the nobles’ control of the line. There are only 28 plagues on this side of The Grade, but there are 89 on the Vanhoover side. 41 on Nightmare alone. We wanted the ponies who run this line then, now, and in the future to understand the risks, but also remember who these ponies we lost were, and be proud to be following in their hoofsteps. Not all of them represent an accident that resulted in death, but each one represents what happens when the respect that a railway needs and deserves is lost. That’s why I’ve pushed that respect on you, your siblings, and your Dad and Uncle. We still put these plagues up when wrecks happen, as no pony is perfect, and the last thing I ever want is to see any of your names grace one.”
I finished my speech, and let the weight of my words sink in. Even though Little Stokey was only 10 years old, I felt it was important for him to understand the risks the life myself, and much of his family lived. We sat there for some time in silence, just staring at #3800’s plague, before Little Stokey eventually broke the silence again, “Grandpa Fire Stoker, did, did you ever lose any friends?”
”Of course he had to ask that.” I said to myself with a sigh. “Well, everyone on this line is a friend to me, my second family. But if you’re asking about close friends like Dusty, or Ash, or Crankshaft, than, yes, yes I did. When the war with Arabia broke out, I watched many of my friends go off to serve, and some didn’t make it back. When I eventually went to serve in the engineer’s corps as an engine drive, I made friends with most of the ponies I served with, and even some of those didn’t make it back. Hell, even Dusty and I came close to not returning. But, outside that, yes, I lost friends to wrecks. Yet, I don’t let the lose of my friends weigh me down. I’m still here, so they still live on through me. I have many a tall about them, and one day I’ll tell you all of them, much like I have with your father, Uncle, and started with your siblings and cousins, so that they may live on through all of you when I’m gone. And I know for a fact, if you father was here with us, and not back at dispatch covering for me, he’d tell you that the stories are well worth the wait. I worked on the railway for five decades, so I have plenty to still tell you.”
I then stood up, “Now, enough of this sad stuff, we’re almost on the summit, and there’s a Northbound train coming.” Little Stoker stared at me, shocked, “How can you tell it’s Northbound.” I smiled as I turned towards the summit, “Five decades.” was all I said as I walked off. “Hey! Wait for me!” Little Stokey yelled as he ran to catch up with me.
We soon made it to the Tall Tale Summit box, and I waved to the pony standing ready at the levers, who happily returned the wave. Hazard had retired 19 years back, and it was now his son, Quick Stop, who ran the box. As we took our first steps onto the summit, the train that had been following us came close enough for me to properly listen to.
I closed my eyes and listened as the locomotive drew closer, paying attention to every creak and sound the aging steam engine made. “2-8-0, C-25 class. Summit Lumber only has three of those. #882 is down for rebuild, and #895 blew a cylinder yesterday, so that leaves #896.” Sure enough, just then #896 pounded by with a load of empty log flats. “Before you even ask, five decades” I said over my shoulder as I could just imagine my grandson’s face. “Come on, we’re just about there.”
We walked along in silence for quite some time, till it finally came into view. The Dragon Tooth River Bridge, sitting there in all its massive glory. “That’s really it?” LIttle Stokey asked. “Yep, that’s Dragon Tooth alright.” I said as I stopped at the start of the bridge, looking out over the massive chasm that was the river. “You and your friends used to jump off of this? For Fun?” My grandson asked, as he took note of how tall the bridge was.
I gave a short laugh, “Yes we did. I told you we were a bunch of dare devils when we were young.” I then stepped onto the bridge, and started to walk across the wooden planks, “Come on, just a tad left.” “Wait, what? I thought this was why we were coming here.” Littler Stokey called to me as I continued across the bridge. “It was part of it, but there’s one more thing I have to show you while we’re up here. We just have to get to the lumber yard.”
Eventually, Little Stokey caught up with me and we crossed the bridge together. Right after crossing the bridge, we came across a wye-switch that was distinctly newer than the rest of the summit track. I turned to the right along the wye, when I heard the slight chuffing coming from up the little long branch. “Watch out, fully loaded logger coming back.” We stepped off to the side of the line in just enough time to see #896 slowly coming around the corner, running tender first with a load of full log flatcars.
I waved to the engineer as he leaned out the window of his tired engine. He smiled at me, and blew the whistle of The Guild, short low, long high, short low, long high, long short, short high. It was kinda hard to find railponies now-a-days who didn’t know The Guild whistle code, or me to that extent.
As the slowly moving log train passed us, Me and Little Stokey continued our walk towards the lumber yard. As we walked into the tiny main tard of the logging facility, I waved to some of the log ponies as they ran their machines, loading up the empty log flats that #896 had just brought up. They were all to happy to return the wave with a smile.
We quickly made our way over to the straight, eight berth doorless engine shed. The two other 2-8-0’s, #882 and #895 sat at the far left of the engine shed. #882 was in a very early state of overhaul tear down, and #895 had its right cylinder and linkage removed. The other five occupied berths held a 0-6-0 camelback, two “modern” 4-4-0’s, and a 2-6-2 tank that was currently in the process of being steamed up.
Though diesel traction was the main motive power of the nation’s railway, many small logging and mining railways like this one still used steam power, as acquiring the engines and parts for them was cheaper than diesels.
“What are we doing here?” Little Stokey asked as we set hoof in the engine shed. I waved to the 2-6-2’s fire lighter before turning back to my grandson, “All will be revealed in just a moment. But before I explain everything, I have a question for you. Does the number of T.T.M.S.L. survivors seem, unusually high to you?”
I saw him think it over for a second before he responded, “Yeah, it does seem rather high. Most railways have 50 or less survivors from their steam days.”
I ruffled his mane with a smile, a true railway fanatic, just like his father. Seemed that it ran in the family.
“You’re right.” I said as I lead us over to a door built into the wall at the back of the engine shed. “Do you ever remember your father griping about some project of mine.” He nodded. “Well, this is what he was talking about.” I said as I opened the door.
“Sweet Celestia and Luna.” Little Stokey mumbled under is breath. Behind the door was a room lit by magic energy bulbs, holding eight tracks that were continuations of the ones that ran into the engine shed. Each track was stuffed from end to end, with steam engines. “What is this place?” Little Stokey asked in amazement as he looked around the massive room that seemed to stretch for miles into the side of the mountain.
“This, is my version of a treasure room. This is where millions of bits that I was paid by the nobles went, but it was well worth it to me. This room contains the first, and last member of every engine class owned by the T.T.M.S.L. during its era of steam. But it’s not just Tall Tale engines in here, there are a few interesting standouts as well. Would you believe it if I said this room holds the only other intact Mammoth Class locomotive besides the one in the NRM?” “Really?” Stokey asked, a glint in his eyes. “Yep. This is the largest private collection of locomotives on the whole of Equis. As I said, it’s not all Tall Tale engines, but they are the majority.”
Even as he looked around in amazement, I could see the look of confusion slowly appear on my grandson's face, “Why did you build this?” “Well, I knew the days of steam were numbered long before we ended steam traffic on the line. And after all the years I had spent around these engines, and their sentimental value to the entire railway, I just couldn’t see it go to waste. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with all of them, but my goal is to make them all rail ready one day. After that, well time will decided that.”
It was then we heard a loud clang, and then a shout, “Son of a!” come from further in. I recognized the voice immediately, and began to walk further in, closely followed by Little Stokey.
We walked down one of the rows towards the sounds of somepony working on one of the engines. We soon found the source of the noise. Coal Dust sat on the ground, covered in grease, working on a Manehatten Central 4-8-4 Nayagera, which conveniently sat next to the still torn up wreck of #9320. “Well well well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I said with a chuckle as we walked up behind my aging friend.
Coal Dust’s head snapped toward us, before he cracked a smile of his own as he stood up, “Oh hey there Stokes, thought I heard somepony.” He then looked down at Little Stokey, “What’s up Fire Ball?” My grandson laughed as Coal Dust used the nickname the whole railway addressed him by. “Hi Uncle Coal Dust. What are you doing?” Coal Dust motioned for ‘Fire Ball’ to sit next to him at the engine’s linkage, which Little Stokey was all too happy to do.
I watched as my grandson sat next to my best friend as they went through taking apart the Nayagera’s linkage, with a smile on my face. The love for steam still ran through his coal black blood, as it bid with both his father and myself. As I they continued to work, I climbed up into #9320’s cab, and sat down in the engineer’s seat.
A chill went up my spine as it always did when I sat in that seat, as the last proper engineer to sit in that seat, nearly died in it.
I sat there for a few minutes, before I shifted over to watch my long time best friend and grandson as they worked. And as I sat there and watched, I smiled to myself. It had been a long hard road, but I finally had what I had always wanted.
I had saved the family that my grandfather had fought to build, and spread it along to the next generation that had unforchunetly grown up without him.
And as I sat there, smiling down at the new generation of rail rider slowly building inside my grandson, I felt as if Hotbox himself was looking down on me along with Bulkhead, Ditchlight, and High Ball, all smiling as I helped carry on the legacy of their line, their organization, and their railroad family.
Fire Stoker would go on to live for another 27 years, before passing peacefully in his sleep, much like his grandfather had.
When he passed, the railway was passed down to my father and my uncle, and one day it will be passed down to me, my sister, and my cousins. But for now, I am simply an engineer, for I can only run the railway right if I know what the average worker goes through.
My grandfather left behind his legacy and his locomotive collection when he passed, which would come in handy five years after his death. The oil needed to make diesel fuel began to run low, and the nation found itself in a pickle.
They did not want to just ban ponies from using automobiles, since they didn’t have a good alternative at the time, but they needed to cut back on how much oil was needed. Add onto that the discovery of a huge coal deposit in the Northern territory of the Crystal Empire, one big enough to fuel the nation for over 200 years at minimum, and they found their answer. It was decided that railways would return to the age of steam.
The operation of diesel traction wasn’t banned, but the price of railway grade diesel rose exponentially, making it more economical to return to steam.
Thanks to my old grandad, we had a selection of ready to run engines, sitting at the summit, just waiting to be pushed back into service. It was a rough change over, but within two years, the railways of the nation were starting to recover. Now, seven years later, everything is running as ii once did in the era of steam my grandfather loved so much.
If only he had gotten the chance to see it.
My name is Fire Stoker the third, or Fire Ball if you ask my co-workers, and I am the new engineer of 9366, and the latest in a long line of legends. One day, I hope I will join the other members of my family in the lines of railway history. But for today, I am simply just, a colt with a train.