//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: Firebox Hearts 
// by Mystic Mind 
//------------------------------//

“Ah, just the dragon I wanted to see.” Smoulder broke from her conversation with Gallus to signal Spike over.
“Morning Smoulder,” Spike said, suppressing a yawn. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t managed to guard himself from the barrage of intrusive thoughts last night. He’d given it his all, forcefully recalling Smoulder’s lecture dozens of times over. Yet at every turn, he found himself drifting back to Rarity, and the moment his dreams of romance were crushed for good. He hoped he’d retained enough of the previous knowledge to sufficiently prove his worth as a volunteer.
“So, what do you need me to do?” he asked, forcefully extending his weak smile. On the bright side, his tiredness helped to dampen his shuddering nerves to the point of functionality. If only it did the same to the butterflies in his stomach.
“I’ll be with you soon. I’ve gotta do some pencil-pushing stuff, first. Gallus will show you around in the meantime.”
“Oh.” Never mind butterflies, the contents of Spike’s stomach had suddenly transformed into a pile of lead bricks. Had his impulsive affection driven her away, already?
No, he told himself. No more catastrophizing. Just focus on the job. You’ll work with her soon enough.
“Right this way,” Gallus said, though Spike couldn’t tell if he noticed his apprehension. “It’s great that you’re here, Spike. We’ve been needing an extra pair of claws for maintenance stuff. Don’t get me wrong, Smoulder’s a capable dragon, but she is just one dragon.”
“Really?” Spike gave an incredulous look. If yesterday’s train was to be believed, this miniature railway had become the star attraction amongst Ponyville’s youth. “With all that buzz yesterday, wouldn’t there be some creature who’d be thrilled to help out?”
Gallus snorted. “No offence, Spike, but don’t hold your breath. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Smoulder, it’s that steam engines are a ‘labour of love’ defined.”
Spike gulped. Was Gallus trying to intimidate him? There was no turning back now. Entering the shed, Spike spotted the long, red locomotive Smoulder had run the previous day, in addition to three other engines of a similar size.
“This is the one Smoulder wants to run today,” Gallus said, gesturing to the green tender engine with the taller chimney. “You’ll need to clean the outside in a specific order before you light the fire. Do you need it written down?”
“Well, if you’re working here, too, I could always mirror whatever you do.”
“No way, nuh-uh! I don’t leave a job half finished, and, well…”
Spike paused as Gallus trailed off. His reaction was surprisingly abrupt, and yet there was something about his manner of speaking that felt off. He wasn’t lying—at least, not entirely—but he had no doubt let slip more than he would care to admit upfront.
“Uh, Gallus, are you okay?” Spike asked. “You’re sweating.”
“I’ll be fine, but… promise you won’t laugh?”
This surprised Spike. He never pegged Gallus as the type to worry about mockery. “Of course, I won’t. I’ve never been that kind of dragon.”
“All right, here goes.” Gallus braced himself. “I’m scared of small spaces. I can’t clean the engine’s underside ‘cause the pit’s too cramped.”
Spike blinked. “Is that all?”
“Wait, what?”
“If it’s claustrophobia, then I get it. I’ve never been to Griffonstone, but from what Twilight told me, the place used to be pretty run-down – no offence.”
“None taken. It still isn’t great. Not like in the stories. Most gryphons would laugh at me if I told them I was scared.”
“Dude, stuff like avalanches and cave-ins are no joke. Aren’t things improving up there? If they aren’t, I’ll have to talk to Twilight about it.”
“Nah, you’re fine. Griffonstone is still rebuilding, albeit slowly. Give it time, and I’m sure it’ll be much safer than when I was little.” Easing his stance, Gallus let go of the tension in his diaphragm. “Thanks, Spike. It feels good to get that out in the open. It’s rare for Gryphons to talk about their feelings, least of all fears. I’m sure you can relate.”
“Well, sorta. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly an ordinary dragon.”
Gallus chuckled. “Of course. Anyway, let’s get to the cleaning routine before Smoulder finishes her paperwork. You wait near the engine, and I’ll grab you a bucket and some rags.”
“Sure thing.” 
While he waited, Spike took the time to visually inspect the locomotive. If there were any obvious faults or breakages, he suspected Smoulder would already know, but it didn’t hurt to check anyway. He could see what Gallus meant about tight spaces. Standing on the gridded maintenance pit, the space below would be quite a squeeze for most foals, let alone a gryphon.
Save for one tank engine, the locomotives were all roughly the same size, give or take a few millimetres. This one was painted bright green, and though it had the same number of wheels, they were arranged differently. Based on the way Smoulder counted them, listing the leading and trailing wheels separately from the driving wheels, he knew this wheel arrangement was classified as a four-six-two ‘pacific’ type. 
Now that he thought about it, Manehatten station was always abuzz with different locomotives, whether they were for freight or passenger duties. Those hauling freight typically had smaller driving wheels, but more of them, while the reverse was true for express engines.
He’d seen ponies partake in trainspotting before, though he’d never understood the hobby until now. Sitting around writing down numbers all day sounded like a fun activity – if your name was ‘Twilight Sparkle’. But for him, it had sounded tedious. Did these ponies have nowhere to go? There were so many sights and tourist hotspots to visit in Manehatten, spending it all at the train station seemed like a waste.
Now, however, he wondered if he’d feel any different. It wasn’t just a cataloguing of numbers, after all. It was an appreciation for the sheer variety of engineering marvels on display, building a data-based picture of different designs for different needs. The smaller, brightly coloured tank engines that ran through Ponyville felt quaint in comparison to the bigger express engines, but when considering the frequency of station stops the service typically made, he supposed higher speeds would be unnecessary.
When Gallus returned, he carried with him more than just a bucket and cloth. “Here,” he said, throwing a small pair of denim overalls and some five-fingered rubber gloves at him. From the way the overalls had been stitched up, they had previously been made for ponies, only to be re-fitted for a smaller dragon. “Put these on. You don’t want to be getting nasty chemicals on your skin.”
Chemicals? Spike hesitated, but did as he was told.
“You need to clean and polish in this order: Start with the hot brass—the steam dome and such—then go underneath to clean the link motions. When you’re done, clean the cold brass and finish with any windows and paintwork stuff. That’s when we’ll work on starting the fire.”
Stretching his wings, Spike set to work. The hot brass was easy enough to reach due to the locomotive’s small size, so it didn’t take long for him to wash it down and polish it to a mirror shine. 
The link motion, however, proved to be a little more fiddly. With how everything was connected, he had to squeeze his claws through some tight spaces to rub off all the accumulated grime and oil from its previous operation, and even then he didn’t get much leverage. He was starting to see what Gallus meant by ‘labour of love.’ 
Despite the limitations, Spike managed to push himself to do a thorough job. Smoulder was relying on him to keep these engines in working order, and he couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing her. He’d had enough disappointments for one lifetime.
So focused was Spike on his task, he didn’t hear Smoulder’s footsteps drawing toward him…
“Hey, Spike.”
…and so jumped at the sound of her voice, slamming his head on the underside of the engine.
“Oh, that’s gotta hurt,” Gallus cringed.
“You okay there, Spike?” Smoulder asked.
“Ow,” Spike replied. Patting his head, he thanked his lucky stars for shock-absorbing scales, leaving him with only a small bump. An open wound here would’ve won him a free trip straight to the hospital. “Yeah, I’m okay. Nothing serious.”
No sooner had Spike climbed out of the pit, Smoulder took his place, slowly scanning her head back and forth across the length of the engine’s underside. Spike watched with bated breath. Had he missed something? Had he broken an essential component when he’d hit his head? He was nothing if not thorough in his cleaning, and nothing appeared out of place – to his eyes, at least.
“Well, would ya look at that,” Smoulder said at last. “Not a bad job for a first timer. Are you sure you’ve never cleaned an engine before?”
Spike smiled, the tension in his gut melting away. “You don’t get to be Twilight’s number-one assistant if you don’t have an eye for spotting dirt.”
“Well, the good news is, the hard part’s over for now. At this rate, she’ll be steaming in no time.”
“Who’s ‘she’?” Spike asked, staring blankly back at Smoulder as she climbed from the pit.
“The engine, silly,” Smoulder laughed. “It’s a railway tradition to refer to machines with feminine pronouns. Dunno why, but it’s fun enough, so the habit stuck.”
“Yo, Smoulder, do you need me to do anything else?” asked Gallus. “‘Cause Sandbar and Yona want me to help them organise something.”
“It’s cool,” Smoulder replied, giving a thumbs up before dusting herself off. “Thanks for giving Spike the rundown.”
“Cool. Glad I could help. Good luck to you, Spike,” he said with a wink. “I’m rooting for ya.”
Spike considered asking what he meant by that last part, but Gallus flew off before he could speak. Shrugging, he returned his attention to cleaning duties.
“So,” he said to Smoulder, wiping down the cold brass nameplates. “How long have you been interested in trains?”
“Good question,” Smoulder hummed, flapping her wings a little as she thought. “I guess I’ve been interested since I first saw them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, back in the Dragon Lands, we don’t have any public transport since we can, y’know, fly everywhere. I guess ponies are a little more ‘advanced’ in that sense.”
Spike pursed his lips. He didn’t like the word ‘advanced’. Sure, he preferred the companionship and creature comforts of pony society, but implying that dragons were less developed felt off.
“I dunno about you, but once I started seeing ‘em more regularly, I got curious. Kinda goes without saying that the Friendship School helps ya mix with creatures of different interests.”
“So, you weren’t the founder of the Miniature Railway club?”
Smoulder shook her head. “No, but I am one of the most active members. As I’m sure Gallus told ya, this little line is popular with passengers, but actual engineers? Not so much.”
“It’s a real shame,” Spike sighed. “I mean, I know not every creature has the skills for all this. But there must’ve been some foal who stood on the platform and thought, ‘Wow, I wanna do that someday!’”
A sly grin grew across Smoulder’s face. “Why, was that you?”
Spike narrowed his eyes. He knew she was teasing, but at this point, anything other than a sincere answer would be an obvious lie. “Nah, it never crossed my mind before. But I guess I’ve always liked helping, since that’s how Twilight raised me.”
“And we’re all better for it.”
“Yeah, we are – wait, what?” Caught off guard, Spike dropped to his knees, hiding his befuddled expression behind the boiler. “I mean, well, I…”
Smoulder burst out laughing. “Sweet Celestia, Spike! I didn’t realise you were so easy to fluster!”
Spike let out a loud groan, half-tempted to bury his face in the dirty cloth just to hide his embarrassment.
“In all seriousness,” Smoulder continued, wiping a tear from her eye. “You’re a hero, Spike. Not just to the Dragon lands, but to the Crystal Empire, too. You deserve to give yourself some credit.”
“Tried that once.” Spike shuddered, recalling the extreme awkwardness of the Equestria Games. “Anytime I let this kinda thing go to my head, it doesn’t end well.”
“Oh.” Smoulder’s expression dropped. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. You wanna talk about it?”
Spike didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“I’ll take that as a no. Still, whatever you think of yourself, I think you’re cool. Anyway, it’s my dream that one day, I’ll get to drive full-sized trains; like the ones running through Ponyville.”
Thankful for the change of topic, Spike straightened his posture, but still avoided eye contact. “You’d be great at that, for sure.”
“That’s partly what I’ve been doing with all that paperwork. I’m hoping to get a job over the winter break.”
“Hey, that gives me an idea.” Spike snapped his claws. “Why don’t I invite Twilight to the railway sometime? She could put in a good word for you as a reference.”
Now it was Smoulder’s turn to blush. “Well, that’d be great, but you don’t have to do that for me. I know Twilight’s a busy mare with all her Princess duties.”
“C’mon! This is Twilight we’re talking about! If any pony’s gonna nerd out over niche details, it’s her. Besides, even Princesses need time off.”
“All right, all right, we’ll see what she can do. But don’t think this gets you out of engine cleaning, mister. So, get scrubbing!”
“At your command, ma’am!” Before he could stop himself, Spike bowed in an exaggerated manner, making Smoulder laugh approvingly instead of cringing - much to his relief.