//------------------------------// // Brakes Down // Story: Lonesome Whistle // by Vauclains Understudy //------------------------------// The initial ten miles out of Ponyville were on level grade. All Gallow had to do was control the train’s speed with the throttle, since the drag of the freight was enough to brake the train without actually actuating the brakes. “Got the hang of things?” asked Big Mike. “More or less,” replied Gallow, “It’s my first time driving a train of any kind.” “Well, freight trains are slow, but I should warn you,” said Mike, “Controlling them when going downhill can be a real hassle. I’ve had my fair share of runaway freight trains, and let me tell you, they are one of the deadliest mishaps to occur on the rails.” “How do they happen?” asked Gallow. “Well, mine were always in the winter. Ice on the rails plus lack of sand equals uncontrollable speeding downhill and lots of soiling on my footplate. But there’re lots of other ways that a runaway could occur.” Gallow kept the thought of runaways in mind, but didn’t worry about it too much. There was no ice on the rails so far, and she had plenty of sand in the dome. Besides, the start of the climb through the Draconian Range was a shallow grade. All she really had to concentrate on was keeping the speed of the train above 10 mph. Mike kept giving her instructions when needed, using his experiences with Ironside as reference. Gallow felt relatively comfortable behind the throttle. She began to think that she might have found her true talent, and if it were possible, her cutie mark might change to something less disturbing. It was a single track all the way through the Range. The trains would start at the bottom and gradually climb up to 8000 feet above sea level, remaining at that altitude until they were about three quarters of the way through the range. At that point, the downward coast began. Tunnels and trestles provided a relatively straight shot through the mountains, but the grades were notorious for being amongst the steepest in Equestria. The ruling grade on both sides of the line was about 1.5%, but it got up to 3% on certain sections. This made coasting downhill a hoof-biting experience. Throughout the railway’s history, over 50 trains (passenger and freight) had lost control and derailed. Over 200 passengers and crew were lost. Much of the damaged rolling stock and locomotives still littered the landscape on both sides of the pass, haunting reminders of what happens when things go wrong. Celestia had requested that some of the engines be repaired and returned to service, while those damaged beyond repair remain where they wrecked to serve as memorials to those lost. The daunting grade soon began. Mike had Gallow drop his valve gear into full forward. This ensured maximum steam input for every stroke of his valves. It would cost him fuel efficiency, but he was a compound engine for a reason. Gallow felt the heavy strain of the freight cars immediately. She kept one hoof on the throttle and one on the sanding lever, as the grades were steep enough to cause slipping without water or ice on the rails. Mike’s chuffing soon became slow and laborious. He had handled freights up and down the Draconian Pass many times before, but his age still took its toll; it was much easier when he a new engine. Sweat began to pour down Gallow’s head. Already the trip was starting to become dangerous, and she had only been driver for half an hour now. Hearing Mike’s strained chuffing, she opened up his throttle wide, leaving the Johnson bar in the full forward notch. She also opened the sand bar, just in case. The move worked. Mike’s chuffs became fuller and stronger as he continued to haul the train up the grade. As Gallow hopped off the driver’s chair to build up some more steam, she took time to look at the two water glasses on the backhead. One measured the water level of the tender; the other measured the level in the boiler. She noticed that both were below half. Realizing that the right glass should never read below half, she quickly opened up the injectors that fed water from the tender into Mike’s boiler. She heard hissing and then gurgling as fresh steam shot the water through the pipes underneath the cab into the boiler. Slowly, the water level began to rise. Once it got to about three-quarters up, Gallow shut the injectors off. She knew that Ironside always worked as both driver and fireman for his engines, but she never realized just how hard he had to work. His focus had to dart between speeds, water level, fire temperature, steam pressure, and a myriad of other important things that began to make Gallow’s head spin. Her eyes jumped back to the tender water glass. “We need to find a coaling station soon,” she noted, “Our water tank is less than half-full.” “There should be a water tower somewhere around here,” Mike replied. Sure enough, they found one just half a mile from where the grade leveled off. Mike pulled up to the water tower, Gallow inching him forward to line up his tank with the spout. She shut off the throttle and sand and applied the brakes. The train came to a stop. Or so it seemed. Before either one of them knew what was happening, the whole train began to roll back down the grade. “Hey! What’s going on?” Gallow called out. “Didn’t you set the brakes?” Mike responded. “Would your drivers be locked if I hadn’t?” Gallow pointed out. Sure enough, Mike’s driving wheels weren’t turning at all. But the freight train was dragging him and Gallow back down the grade! Gallow began climbing over Mike’s tender to see what was going wrong with the brake connections. She couldn’t understand why Mike’s brakes were applied, but the train’s brakes were not. As she peered over the tender and looked down at the coupling, she soon understood why. She had forgotten to connect Mike’s brake hose with that of the rest of the train! Gallow screamed in panic as the now runaway train began picking up speed. Inside the cab, the speedometer read above 30 mph. The speed limit on the grades was 15! As the train continued down the grade, the freight cars began rocking dangerously from side to side. Desperate, Mike commanded Gallow to release his brakes and open the throttle. Gallow did so, and Mike’s drivers spun forwards again. It was no use; there was too much weight and speed for Mike to be of any use as a brake. “Uncouple us!” he called out to the filly. “What?! Mike, we’ll lose the train!” she cried back. “We’ll lose our lives if we don’t!” he yelled. Gallow, realizing this to be true, reluctantly ran back over to the tender and began climbing down the ladder towards the couplers. She gripped the handle that locked the coupler on the tender and lifted it up. The coupler unhooked from the one on the train. The freight cars, now free, picked up speed and rolled away. With the weight gone, Mike’s spinning drivers regained control, and the engine was finally able to slow himself down. Gallow hopped back into the cab and shut off steam. Mike’s drivers stopped spinning. Gallow this time applied his independent brake, which worked only on his and his tender’s brakes. But Mike was too concerned with other matters. “We have to follow the train!” he yelled, “It might run into whatever trains are following us!” But before Gallow could respond, they heard a high-pitched whistle ahead of them. “Oh no!” Mike exclaimed, “It’s Ironside and the special coach!” Sure enough, a train consisting of a single engine and a single sleeper coach could be seen on the track ahead. It was the new sleeper car that the railway was testing, and Ironside and many of the Ponyville upper-class were on board. Scared silly, Gallow released Mike’s brakes. The engine began rolling back down the grade, following the path of the runaway freight cars. Ironside sat in the lounge of the private sleeper car, his hind leg bouncing up and down nervously. Not surprisingly, Rarity had invited herself on board the car to join in the testing of its luxury, but she had also brought Fluttershy along for the ride. She felt that Fluttershy was the best pony to get a second opinion from, since Fluttershy herself was well-read in matters of style and luxury. Of course, as mentioned before, Ironside was anything but comfortable around Fluttershy. It was like standing next to a family member of somepony he had accidentally run over. Although, considering Fluttershy’s relationship with the woodland creatures of Ponyville, Ironside actually was standing next to the family member of the victim. Every time the yellow Pegasus pony looked at him, she smiled. He would smile back, and then whisper “Holy shit” to himself when she turned in another direction. Luckily, Rarity had Fluttershy engaged in conversation with the other upper-class ponies, so Ironside had time to relax. Yet he had a nagging sense that something was amiss… Meanwhile, Gallow and Big Mike rolled down the Draconian Pass, trying to catch up with the runaway freight train. As they blasted through a tunnel, Gallow caught sight of the cars, but she didn’t like what she saw. They were on a trestle about a mile away from Mike, and they were rocking dangerously. Suddenly, the worst happened. The last car on the train rocked past the tipping point and tumbled over the side of the trestle. The rest of the cars followed suit. Boxcars, tankers, hoppers, gondolas, all kinds of cars and cargo went tumbling down the trestle into the gorge. They landed with the resounding sounds of crunching metal, shattering wood, splashing liquids, and breaking glass. The cargo was now spilt all over the ground. Furniture, food, drink, cosmetics, and all sorts of goods littered the valley floor. Mike couldn’t see the train behind him crash into the gorge, but the sounds produced when it did made him go, “Well that didn’t sound good.” Gallow just stared, wide-eyed, at the wreckage in the valley. She couldn’t form any words in her mouth, so Mike just took her stunned silence as confirmation that the train was officially screwed. “Right then, back to Ponyville,” he said to himself as he coasted back down the grade. About five minutes later, the sleeper car and its engine passed over the trestle and the wreckage. The debris was spread far and wide, so it was easy for the passengers to make out the devastation. When the engine crew saw the wreckage, they immediately stopped the train and inspected the damage. The driver ran into the sleeper. “Ironside,” he called out, “The 8:30 freight has wrecked!” Ironside didn’t know that Gallow and Big Mike were pulling that train, but he jumped up in surprise nonetheless. “Wait, what?” he asked. “Look out the window, dear,” Rarity responded. Ironside then noticed that everypony had their faces plastered against the windows. He tried to find an opening to get a glimpse of the wreck, but couldn’t find any. So, he lifted his head up above Rarity’s and peered down into the gorge. Sure enough, he could see the destroyed freight cars and their spilled cargo on the ground. For the second time that week, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell to the floor unconscious. But then, for some reason, Rarity did the exact same thing. Fluttershy was shocked to see them both pass out, and asked the engineer of the train what had happened. Looking at the waybill, he noted that Rarity had some new fabrics and cosmetics on the freight train. Unfortunately, they were now stained with milk, eggs, wine, and soda, as their boxcar had been crushed by the refrigerated car that now rested on top of it.