High Speed Engines

by The Blue EM2

Crash Protocol

Rainbow and Spitfire puffed across the yard one fine summer morning.

“So, you’ll be meeting the others today,” Spitfire told her. “You’ll be staying in that 6-road shed over there. You’re in the 6^th berth, as our 6^th member.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Rainbow replied.

The older engine whistled sharply. “Watch the signals! They’ll tell you whether an engine is approaching or not.”

A few hours later, Rainbow Dash steamed out of her berth, and onto the mainline. Suddenly, a pair of streaks shot past her!

“What the?” she exclaimed. She was so shocked that she veered off into a siding, straight across the spin-o-matic, and into a muddy ditch.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t planning on a cold bath!”

One of the two engines that had rocketed past rolled to a stop next to her. “You OK?” he asked. He was of the same size as Spitfire, but had a streamlined front end.

The other engine, who looked the same but for a different paint scheme, sneered. “Nice job, ‘Rainbow Crash’!”

Her choice of words couldn’t have been worse. When Rainbow was newly built, she’d fallen into a muddy pool as a consequence of faulty points. One of the works diesels had called her ‘crash’ as a result.

“That’s enough!” shouted Spitfire. “Dash, time to meet the team. On the left are Soarin’ and Fleetfoot. The A2 over there is Surprise, and the A1 is Misty Fly. We’ll all be taking turns on the express runs over the next few weeks. Let’s do the railway proud!

The weeks went by in a blur. More training, more errors, more of that nickname. Rainbow had absolutely no doubt it was badly affecting her performance on the rails, but she never let it show. Mind, she had to spend most of her evening clearing the yard, which was pretty bad, but it could easily be a lot worse.

Then came the big blow. Rainbow puffed into the works to have the insignia applied to her tender. Each engine’s insignia was unique, and applied to them personally.

Spitfire was already waiting there, with the new insignia on display. Rainbow’s eyes widened when she saw it.

It was a crude depiction of a Bulleid Light Pacific crashing into a stop sign. The implication was obvious.

“Why did you have to put it on the insignia?” she asked.

“Our nicknames are alluded to on our insignia,” Spitfire explained. “Isn’t that right, clipper?”

“Yes boss!” shouted Soarin’.

Rainbow honestly wondered why there was only one male Wonderbolt. Was there a shortage of them somehow?

“One more thing,” Spitfire said. “You’re taking the train tomorrow. Do a good job.”

Rainbow sat there, sad. How would she ever shake off the nickname?

Then her face broadened into a smile that rivalled the Cheshire cat.

“I’ll break the record!” she said.

Rainbow Dash awoke the next morning, to the familiar sensation of her fire being lit. When the pressure was high enough, she pulled away from the depot and into the station, coupling onto the train as she did so.

The run, for the most part, went very well. Apart from being held at a signal for a short while, everything seemed OK. But then engineering works and slow-moving goods trains caused the delays to start to pile up.

Rainbow got anxious. She began to go faster, and faster, and faster. She had to beat that clock!

Her wheels flew round and round, steam snorting from her cylinders and a deafening beat echoing from her funnel.

She soon reached one hundred miles an hour, well above the speed limit. But danger lay ahead.

On the run down from the Crystal Empire, there is a steep hill coming into Canterlot station. This hill usually needs the support of banking engines or support locomotives, as it is very steep.

Rainbow hit the hill, and applied her brakes. Only then did she realise that she was going too fast.

“Help!” she cried. “I can’t stop!”

Down the hill she went, her speed rising out of control as she reached the bottom. She clattered through the junction at incredible speed, and through the station.

“Slow down!” shouted the station-master.

“I can’t!”

Then came a sharp bend. Rainbow went into it, and she and her carriages left the rails, piling up in a muddy field next to the railway line.

Luckily, nobody was hurt.

Spitfire came down with the breakdown train. She was not happy. “Way to go, Crash,” she snorted. “You broke the speed limit repeatedly on that run. I’ve chewed engines out for less.”

Something inside the spam can snapped. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t constantly called me that nickname!”

“We all have embarrassing nicknames!” Spitfire exclaimed. “Why do you think Soarin’ is called Clipper? He knocked a signal down on his first day because he was out of gauge!”

“So that makes it acceptable does it?” Rainbow retorted. “I have no idea why you engines pick on me more than each other. Is it because I’m new?”

“You’re out of order!” Spitfire thundered. “I hope you’ve learned a lesson today.”

Rainbow's face fell. “I have. I’ve learned that I’ve wasted most of my life looking up to you and your little social club. I QUIT!”

And with that, she snorted past her and into the darkness, back to Canterlot depot.