Firebox Hearts

by Mystic Mind

Chapter 9

For the first time in months, Spike was happy to feel his heart racing. This was going to be the biggest challenge of his life so far, and yet he had not the slightest doubt about his capabilities. After all the hours he’d poured into the subject – both in theory and steam miniature practice – he knew he was ready.

Pulling the firebox lever, he saw that Smoulder had done a great job preparing for the run to come. Most of the firebox grate was already covered, with only a small dip around the front. Wasting no time, he got to work shovelling, taking as much coal as he could physically balance and dumping it just beyond the firebox door.

Smoulder, meanwhile, was leaning out of the right-hand window, watching as the last of the passengers squeezed on. Having never been to Yakyakistan, Spike had no frame of reference for how busy the route usually was, but even with twelve carriages and an engine as big as this, the service looked stacked to capacity.

The guard’s shrill whistle cut through the platform chatter, announcing their departure.

“Right away,” said Smoulder, sounding the engine’s whistle. Rolling the screw reverser all the way forward, she tugged the regulator handle down bit by bit. Suddenly, the engine lurched, rapidly chuffing as its wheels spun in place. “Easy does it now…”

Spike held his breath. Soon enough, Smoulder got the engine under control, winding back the reverser revolution by revolution as the engine regained its composure.

“Might wanna close the firebox doors, Spike,” she said. “We’ll need all the heat we can get to get this thing up the first hill.”

“Right, sorry.” Once he had a free moment, he carefully leant out of the left-hand side window, turning his attention to the line ahead. Already, the weather was taking a turn for the worst. Even with the ash and clinker ejected from the chimney, the freezing polar winds bit at his face.

For the moment, visibility was okay. The mountainside shielded the train from the worst of the arctic blasts, but even without route knowledge, he gathered this wouldn't last forever. He could only hope that the signalling was up to par.

Glancing back inside, a nasty surprise awaited him. The water gauges had somehow gotten fuller! How in Equestria had the level risen on its own? Had he accidentally turned on the injectors? That shouldn’t have been possible. Panicking, he double and triple checked everything, fiddling with the injectors back and forth

“Careful not to overdo it, Spike,” Smoulder warned. “We’re starting the climb, so the water’s gonna flow back a little. Just make sure it doesn’t cross the red line, and we’ll be safe.”

Looking closer, Spike breathed a sigh of relief, placing his claw flat against his chest. The level was close, but as suggested, still below the threshold. “Should I add a little more, just to be safe?”

“Just a little, sure. Be careful not to overfill it.”

That much was he aware of. Gently, he moved the steam injector to the ‘on’ position, holding it for ten seconds before shutting it again. With this taken care of, he returned his attention to the fire, feeding extra servings of coal to wherever the fire was lowest, and then some. The steeper the line got, the further Smoulder opened the regulator, constantly winding the reverser backwards and forwards to match the cutoff with the incline.

Higher and higher they climbed, twisting and turning through long tunnels and narrow mountain passes, all while the weather continued to worsen. Before he knew it, visibility had reduced to almost zero, the way ahead whited out under the raging snow storm. A familiar aura of purple magic helped mitigate some of the line’s snow drifts, but Twilight was still just one pony. It would take an army of unicorns to clear this kind of weather. Many times Spike found himself watching the way ahead, only to get a face full of snow.

His heart was hammering, every muscle in his body tense and thick beads of sweat drenching his face despite the cold. Every now and again, he tried using dragon fire to melt the falling snow, hoping to gain some extra visibility. Yet the storm would not be beaten so easily.

This was tougher than he’d thought. Every other minute he was shovelling coal, satisfying the engine’s voracious appetite. His muscles were aching like never before, but he refused to give up. Smoulder was counting on him — they were all counting on him. This was no worse than she’d had to do on her previous return trip.

Her expression, by contrast, remained neutral. Her eyes flicked between the speed indicator and the pressure gauges, constantly making minor adjustments here and there, but otherwise remained concentrated. The conditions could hardly be worse, and still it wasn’t enough to break her. Even when Spike couldn’t see the speed restrictions covered in snow, she held her own, knowing exactly where to slow down.

Smoulder was a dragon with a photographic memory, identifying the smallest of landmarks to instantly conjure a mental image of where they were. Even when the signals failed, requiring direct permission from a Yak signal worker at the passing loop, she kept the engine going, crawling along metre by metre until they could finally return to line speed.

She wouldn’t give up, and neither would he. Besides, if he were honest, he was starting to enjoy the challenge of satiating this great metal beast. No matter how much it rocked and rolled along the line, the engine stayed the course, gripping the rails with all its might.

“The Smoke’s getting a little thick there, Spike,” Smoulder commented as they reached the line’s summit. “You can ease off now that we’re going downhill; give the fire some room to breathe.”

“Roger that!” Spike hoped he hadn’t upset the engine through his over-eagerness. As Smoulder slammed the regulator shut and worked the vacuum brakes, he threw on the blower to keep up the draft that drew the fire forwards. This was where working on miniature engines really came in handy: peeking inside the firebox every now and again to ensure it was still consistent. Other than that, the water level was his biggest concern.

Amidst everything, he’d lost track of time. It felt like they’d been travelling for hours. When all he saw around him was white, he couldn’t be sure. Despite his excessive coaling, there was plenty more left in the bunker behind him, so perhaps they hadn’t progressed as far as expected?

Then, after rounding a long horse-shoe curve that led into a spiral descending tunnel, the storm finally abated, revealing the winter wonderland of the valley below. Though the tree line was thinning at this elevation, the broad sparkling lake reflected the light of the falling winter sun, highlighting the snow-covered greenery and large rock formations around it.

It was a postcard-perfect scene that took Spike’s breath away. No wonder Smoulder wanted this job so bad. Getting to see this once was incredible enough, let alone on a regular basis. To think, all this had come about because of Twilight’s friendship school, introducing dragons to a new way of life – his way of life; the way of cooperation and friendship. Even if his actions contributed indirectly, his steadfast support of Twilight made it all possible.

Without him, he would’ve never met Ocellus, or Sandbar, or Yona, and especially not Smoulder. And this was to say nothing about his efforts in aid of Dragon Lord Ember.

Yet it was here, on the footplate of a neigher-carrot articulated locomotive, he felt like he was making a difference. Not in the Crystal Empire, not in the Dragon lands, but here, keeping the raging fire alight deep inside the engine’s belly.

Then, at long last, he spied the towering statues of legendary Yak warriors. They had made it. Illuminated from behind by the last rays of the setting sun, their train slid under the shelter of the station’s canopy, coming to a complete stop on platform two.

At last, he could relax. Hopping off the footplate, Spike wiped the sweat from his brow and slumped back against the running plate. His claws were filthy, his face was marked with soot, and he was breathing heavily from exertion.

And loved it.

This was the mark of a real locomotive engineer, a professional who lived for every flicker of flames and puff of steam.

Focusing on his claws, he didn’t see Smoulder jump to him from the footplate, throwing her arms around him to snatch him in a hug.

“Oh my gosh, Spike, you were amazing!” she exclaimed, but it was what she did next that truly caught him off guard. She planted a long, sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best enby a dragon could ask for!”

“Uhhhh…” She had done it alright. She had broken his brain, stunning him under the barrage of affection.

Her eyes going wide, Smoulder blushed bright red and let go. “Oh, right, ‘ask first.’ Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?”

“What?” Spike blinked. Did she mean what he thought she meant?

Fiddling with her claws, Smoulder closed her eyes and bowed. “Will you go out with me?”

“Go out? As in, a date?” Spike smiled. Taking her claw, Spike leant over and kissed it gently. “Funny. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

If the mountain scenery had been beautiful, then the look of joy that blossomed across Smoulder’s face was simply stunning. Pumping her free fist in the air, she let out an ecstatic “Woohoo!” before nuzzling his cheek.

“Well, what do we have here?”

Spike looked up to see Twilight approaching, with Smoulder’s friends not far behind. All were looking at him with some degree of amazement, save for Ocellus. It didn’t take a genius to recognise her smile as fake.

Looking back to Smoulder, she nodded. She, too, knew what was going on, and what Spike had to do. So, breaking from their embrace, he walked over and hugged Ocellus.

“Thank you,” he said, gently. “You’re one amazing friend, and I want you in my life.”

Ocellus hugged him back, her chitin glowing the bright aura of familial love. No matter where life took him, Spike would always be grateful to the one changeling who, despite her own heartache, did everything she could to help him to find happiness. He hoped - no, knew - that she would find her own in the future.

“Twilight, everyone,” Spike said, straightening his posture and clearing his throat. “I’d like to announce that I have a girlfriend, and her name is Smoulder.”

Author's Note:

Inspiration for this climax came from the youtube channel Rail Cow Girl, as she experienced conditions just as bad as those described in this story!

Also, the ship this story has built up to has officially sailed. 🎉