WARNING: I tried to write a cockney accent in this chapter. Please don't hurt me.
The next day the Crusaders and their new friends had to go back to school, and they were treated to an especially dreary case of the Mondays.It was only made worse when jJust before the final bell rang, Ms. Cheerilee announced a new group project.
“Now,” She said as she reached a hoof up to scratch on the chalkboard. “I’m sure everypony’s heard something about the new railway coming to town.” A flurry of nods followed, save for five fillies who gave each other knowing smirks. Truthfully, Cheerilee was overjoyed to see the Crusaders making friends with Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, although there was still a rival’s animosity between Scootaloo and Diamond.
“There will be three big parts to the construction,” She continued, drawing with her hoof as she went. “One: reopening the old branch line across Saddle Lake. Two: building a new passenger station and tracks through Ponyville. And three: building a bridge to connect the two. The Equestria North Eastern Railway, the ponies in charge of all this, are having a contest to decide the designs of the new bridge and station. Your project, will be to come up with designs of your own for one or the other. You’ll be working in groups of two and three, so I want everypony to pick their partners by tomorrow, and have a good day.”
As Ms. Cheerilee dismissed class, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Daimond Tiara, Scootaloo and Silver Spoon headed for the Ponyville train station. Mikaela was now making trips to Ponyville twice a day with supply trains from Fillydelphia, and her driver had offered to show the fillies how the big tender engine worked. Diamond Tiara of course already knew almost all the ins and outs and was eager to show off, but the other four were just as excited.
They trotted up to the station together and were greeted by a wail from Mikaela’s banshee whistle. The big Mikado was currently being turned on the stations turntable, which was barely large enough to fit her, and whose simple wheel crank meant her crew was having a tough time of turning her around. What two days ago had been a sleepy village train depot was now bustling with activity. Worker ponies of all shapes and sizes were going every which way. Unicorns and Pegasi were lifting more rails and ties off Mikaela’s freight cars, while a gang of earth ponies were hard at work marking out the path the new track would take through town. Apple Bloom was all but gaping at the sheer number of ponies at work, and nearly went under hoof when she walked into a group of earth pony’s pulling a sled of ties down the road. She had to hurry a little to catch up with the others, and felt her eyes begin to roll down the tracks as Diamond Tiara and Scootaloo turned their much too big for them egos on each other again.
“Puh-lease,’ the orange filly scoffed, interrupting Diamond’s ramblings on boiler management and steam generation. “What’s there to know? You put the coal in the hole, get it hot, make steam, and off you go.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” the pink filly insisted as Mikaela chuffed off the turntable behind them. “Steam engines aren’t like diesels. You can’t just flip a switch and press a button then sit back and watch the scenery go by. They’re a finely tuned piece of machinery, and have to be treated properly. Like me.” Her prim smile turned to a scowl when Scootaloo failed to hide a snort of laughter.
“As I was saying,” She glowered. “You have to oil the side rods, grease the couplings, keep the ash pan and boiler tubes clean, build a fire, raise steam, and all that before you even leave the station.”
“What’s a diesel?” Sweetie Belle asked, face scrunching at the sour note Diamond had used with the word, but it was nothing compared to the venom in Mikaela’s voice.
“A train yard of trouble with a bad attitude,” The tender engine glowered. “They’re locomotives that run on magic and gems instead of water and coal. Mr. Top Hat’s tested a few on our railway, but they always make a mess of things. They think they’re so great and advanced, and all you ever hear out them is the same old abolish steam slag.”
“A-bomb-ish?” Scootaloo asked.
“Abolish,” Silver Spoon corrected as a sad tone entered her voice. “It means to do away with, or end a practice. My uncle said the Van Hoover and Western railway has already abolished steam, and replaced all their engines with diesels.”
“But what happens to the steam engines?” Apple Bloom wondered out loud, only to have Mikaela’s eyes look away from them.
“It-it’s not nice to say.” The farm filly recognized the look, the same one Granny Smith got when she asked about her grandfather, and decided not to ask any more questions on the issue. Though to be fair she wasn’t very curious about it after she spotted an orange mare wearing a Stetson talking with an older stallion in a tall hat.
“Hey AJ!” The filly shouted, galloping the rest of the way to her big sister’s side, winding the mare a little on impact.
“Oof, howdy Bloom,” Applejack gasped as Top Hat’s niece Silver Spoon ran up as well.
“What’re you doing here?” The yellow filly asked as the older Apple habitually readjusted her little sister’s bow.
“Jus talk’n with Mr. Hat bout the new tracks he an Diamond’s Daddy are put’n in.”
“It’s shaping up quite well,” Top Hat smiled, turning to point a hoof down the street being marked by the workers. “The new track will follow this road. It curves around the southern side of Ponyville, from the station, all the way to Secretariat Street.” Apple Bloom perked up at that; Sweet Apple Acres wasn’t very far off that road at all, and the school house was even closer, just up a little trail on the hill.
“From there,” Top Hat continued, “the tracks will enter the town itself, passing by Carousel Boutique, Sugar Cube Corner and a host of other stores before turning toward the new bridge, and linking up with the old line across the lake. I understand your teacher told you about our little competition to decide the design?”
“Eyess Sir,” Apple Bloom nodded, though her eyes betrayed a creeping anxiety. “But, if ya don’t mind me asking, what’ll happen to the old station when ya build the new one?”
“Well, the plan was to tear it down and build the new terminal here on the main,” The older stallion admitted as the words made the filly’s head droop. “But as Ms. Apple has informed me it would be much more efficient for everypony if we renovated instead.”
“Eeyup,” Applejack nodded as her little sister’s mood perked back up. “The station’s already pretty bare-bones as is, so it won’t take much ta make it inta a lil-freight depot, leav’n the new station free ta handle passengers.”
“Indeed,” Top Hat smiled before a sudden tone caught one unicorn filly’s ears.
“Sweets?” Scootaloo started as her fellow crusader perked up and turned her head toward the station building. “What is it?”
“Didn’t you hear it?”
“Hear what?” Silver Spoon asked, perking her own ears up and searching for a sound.
“A bell.” Now all five were listening, trying to pick out any sound over the bustle of noise all around them, and sure enough, three seconds later two chimes rang out from behind the station building.
“Oh that?” Top Hat smiled cheekily as he started walking, leading the filly’s and farm mare toward the station. “That would be our new yard engine. Since the Ponyville depot will soon be part of the Equestria North Eastern, and given the fact we shall need an engine that meets the proper safety standards to shuttle cars through town, I decided this place needed someone to keep it in order. To that end, I bought this smart old boy.”
“Rescued is mo the word,” a worn but kind voice remarked through a thin haze of steam. He was undoubtedly a steam engine, evidenced by his short funnel and the hissing steam billowing around him, but the rest of him was very, very strange looking. His wheels were hidden behind big metal plates, and below his buffers were slanted grates, almost like a smooth cheese slicer. His boiler was hidden inside what appeared to be a big wooden shed, with two windows on his front, and two on his side. On his roof was his funnel, and a tarnished brass bell that though weathered and worn, still rang clearly across the train yard. The fillies were immediately reminded of Jedidiah, the tram wearing the same kind aged look as the old amareican, and many of the same signs of age. His paint had worn away completely, exposing pale wooden planks, but here and there you could still see traces of a rich blue.
“Top o the morn’n,” he chimed politely in an aged but very unique trottingham accent. “I ope I’m not intruding on anything.”
“Not at all,” Top Hat smiled back. “In fact you’re right on time. Pippin, I would like you to meet The Ponyville chapter of the Railway Juniors.” Each of the filly’s said hello as their name was called, but when Top Hat got to Apple Bloom.
“Is your name really Pippin?” She asked staring at the tram engine unbelievingly.
“Well I shoo ope so,” The old engine smiled with a laugh. “It wouldn do to have been go'n around all ese years calling me'self another engine’s name now wou it?”
“Did you used to work here a long time ago? Like, town found’n long time ago?” Mikaela couldn’t help but hear, and winced at the question, remembering well how prickly Jedidiah could get about his age. But the tram took it all in stride.
“You know as a mat'er o fact I did,” he gasped as if realizing a stark revelation, before closing on eye and looking Apple Bloom over carefully. “Now that you mention it, you remind me of a little colt I knew back in those days.” Applejack couldn’t help but smirk at the growing excitement on her little sister’s muzzle.
“I might know why. Does the name Granny Smith ring any bells?” She asked, watching the tram’s features light up.
“Granny? You wou'd'n by chance mean Annie Smith?”
“Eeeyuup, that’s her. She’s mine an Bloom’s Gran Ma.”
“Well bless me ole bell,” Pippin laughed from deep down in his boiler. “I knew I was gone a long time, but sweet celestia. A granmother! How is Annie ese days?”
“She’s do’n fine,” Applejack supplied with a smirk. “If it wasn’t for her hip she’d still be working in the fields same as the rest of us.”
“That sounds bout right,” the old tram chuckled, his eyes sparkling as they glanced around the station. “My goodness things have certainly changed round ere. Why, I remember when that turntable ad its own little roundhouse, and you coul barely see the town o'er the station roof.”
“And it’s going to change more,” Top Hat nodded thoughtfully. “We’re in the process of connecting this station to the Rambling Rock Branch line, and I need you Pippin, to keep this station in order.”
“But o corse Sir,” The old tram smiled, before chuffing away to sort out the empty flat cars. As he buffered up to them he started humming a little tune, and while it took him a minute or two to start the long metal cars moving, the empty cars were soon being marshalled closer to the mainline, giving the workers more room to unload the rest of the train.
The fillies watched the old tram work for a few minutes before a cry from Mikaela’s driver reminded them of their plans. As they ambled off toward the waiting tender engine, Apple Bloom was all but dancing in place. Pippin couldn’t help but watch them go, and felt himself drift back to memories distant but now closer than ever.
“Come on guys! Last one to the Acres is a rotten apple!”
“HEY! No fair Mac! You always get a head start!”
“And you have that dang shortcut! You know we can’t jump as far as you!”
“So grow wings!” The three colts raced after one another, leaping and bounding over the tracks and shouting ponies going on their way.
Pippin chuckled at the memory of three little ponies with barely a thought to spare for anything beyond their next adventure. And though it seemed Ponyville now had a new trio, or was it quintet?, of troublemakers, Pippin couldn’t help but miss his old friends. One thing he didn’t miss however, was that horrid bucking trick they used to pull on him. He shuddered on his frames just thinking of it, but the clank of unloaded rails buffered his mind back to the present, at least until the next odd glance reminded him of another time worn memory.
To Diamond Tiara’s chagrin the mikado’s crew didn’t include all the various cleanings and maintenances involved with a steam engine in their lesson, instead ushering the five fillies right up into the tender engines cab. Mikaela already had a nice fire going, and her firepony showed them how to build it up, using large and small coals to make something almost resembling a fort in Mikaela’s firebox.
“This way,” He explained, “The coals won’t burn right away, and instead of making all your steam in the yard and blowing off, you can have a roaring fire just when you need it.”
“Oh I get it,” Apple Bloom said with just a bit more understanding than her friends. “It’s like what Big Mac does for company. He spends an hour stacking the logs jus so they’ll be burn’n when ponys start arriving, but not before.”
“Exactly,” The stallion smiled, before Mikaela’s driver took over, showing them all the various levers, valves and what they did to control the big tender engine’s speed. He was just getting to the regulator, when Scootaloo’s eyes caught on a valve and gauge marked out in red.
“Hey what’s this?” She asked pointing a hoof at the gauge.
“That,” the driver warned, “Is the safety valve. If Mikaela has a problem where something clogs her boiler or cylinders, it causes steam pressure to build. This,” He said tapping the gauge’s glass covering as something drew Silver Spoon’s attention to the cab window, “lets off steam when the pressure gets too high. It’s a safety measure all steam engines have.”
“Apple Bloom,” The grey filly called, “Isn’t that your big brother and granny?” The yellow filly hopped to the window just as a red stallion crossed the tracks with an old yellow-green mare, and Apple Bloom couldn’t even try to stop her smile when Granny Smith laid eyes on the old steam tram cuffing back and forth across the station. It wasn’t long before Mikaela’s driver realized he had lost the filly’s attention to the reunion in the yard, and settled for leaning against the firepony’s seat across the cab. Not a word was said as the fillies strained to hear every word being said across the yard.
Pippin was pushing another pair of flat cars into line behind their empty counter parts, when green fur appeared in the corner of his vision. He reversed just enough to bring the new pony into his line of sight, only to realize this pony was not new to him at all.
“With the mare in the moon as my witness,” He gasped tiredly, suddenly feeling as worn as his frames as the equally aged mare sat down before his buffers.
“I know,” Granny Smith chuckled. “I nev’r thought I’d live this long neither.” The joke sent both tram and mare roaring with laughter, and for a moment, the years melted away.
“Oh my stars, I just can't believe it.” The old mare shook her head, as if trying to clear the dust from old memories. “Of all ta faces I’ve seen in my years, yours is one of ta ones I ner could ferget.”
“That makes two of us,” Pippin smiled, but the lines seemed to creep back into his face as he glanced across the train yard. “So much has changed.”
“Fer sure. An quick too. Why it seem like only yesterday you were holler’n at colts to stay off ta tracks.”
“And when you were throwing apple cores at'em for stealing your pies. Though to be fair,” Pippin sighed as his eyes settled on Big Mac and Applejack, the siblings now talking about business and harvests. “We only er had ose problems with three colts now didn' we?”
“Mm-hm,” Granny Smith nodded, already knowing where Pippin’s next questions were going to land. Or she thought she knew, until the tram’s tone turned somber.
“I eard about what happened at the mine. I … I’m so sorry Annie.”
“Ah’ve made peace with it,” She sighed, tone as worn and tired as its owner. “He’s with Blossom now. I only wish,” she admitted mournfully. “Tat they’d gotten te see deir youngun’s grow up. AJ’s tha spitt’n image of her ma.” Pippin nodded a soft agreement.
“Yes, and little Apple Bloom looks just like her father did at that age. All wide eye and steam'n on both cylinders. Minus the hat of course.”
“He gave it ta AJ after her trip ta Manehattan, visit’n her Ma’s kin. She hardly ever takes it off.”
“And the stallion?” Pippin asked.
“Macintosh; AJ an Bloom’s big brother. Most folk jus call’m Big Mac.” Pippin couldn’t help but smile.
“His father’s nickname, and his granfather’s looks.”
“John would be proud,” Granny Smith agreed, even as her head dropped and his ears folded down. Pippin knew better than to ask. He knew what was coming next, and he could only sympathize.
“It really is a mixed bless’n,” The old mare admitted slowly, tracing her hoof in the dirt. “Liv’n long as we have.”
“Aye,” Pippin said simply. Just as Granny Smith had watched her husband pass, then her son and daughter-in-law, Pippin had watched his brothers and sisters be taken to the breaker’s yards one by one. But both elders knew the last thing their relatives would want was to see them sad over their memories.
The two stallions creeping up on Pippin’s flanks knew it too.
Pippin never saw them, not until they reared their legs back and bucked him square in the sideplates. The old tram jumped and rattled as the crashing wobble traveled up his plates, through his planks, all the way to his roof and bell, turning its normal chime into a resounding DING!
“Bloody Luna!” He yelped, before his vision flashed red and he looked to his flanks. “Who’s back there?! Come out you blimey little buggers fore I!”
“Take it easy old boy,” The off white unicorn on his left laughed from behind his mustache. “It’s only us.”
“You impudent little!” The tram huffed and whooshed as the voice made him forget the year. “Why in my day colts were!”
“Seen and not heard Pip, we know,” The dark tan earth stallion coming from his right smirked, his muzzle wearing a smirk it hadn’t known in far too long. Somehow, Pippin managed to keep his anger even as a smile threatened to overwhelm it. “We remember well. Do you?”
“Oh I remember,” Pippin glowered through his smile. “Two rabble rousing colts named Magnum and Filthy, who ne'er knew when to leave well enough alone.”
“You do remember!” Magnum mock cheered. “Thank the goddess. I was afraid time had worn out your mind.”
“Oh real-eh,” Granny Smith glowered, folding her hooves over her and pinning both stallions with a glare perfected with age and practice. “An jus whut made ya’ll think that would be ta case?”
Pippin could no longer hold back his laughter as the full grown unicorn stallion fumbled under the old mare’s scrutiny, and neither could Filthy Rich. The old tram settled down onto his wheels and watched the scene play out, new and familiar at the same time. When the time finally came for the fillies to go home Pippin watched, his old eyes twinkling, and for the first time in years smiled as he dozed in the afternoon Ponyville sun.