The breaking point
It was the day… a smoke grey pony stood on the platform of canterlot stations, staring up at his mount. It had been many a moon he had waited for this day, and yet now that it was here, he did not know what to think. He was tasked with completing the greatest feat of mechanical engineering of the century. He was to take a fire breathing monster to the breaking point… 100 miles per hour. The railroad couldn't have picked a better locomotive for the task. The drivers were known as boxpok wheels. Made of solid castings full of oval shaped holes rather than spokes, they were much better at holding together under the stress and strain. They stood at a towering 84 inches in diameter, towering over the stallion. The heavy polished rods glinted in the light of the station lamps. The locomotive was sleek, prim and proper. It barely showed a single facet of what it was. To some, the unknowing, it was known as the upside down bathtub, and he had to heed to that, because it looked much the part. The front of the engine had a shovel nose like appearance, shooting up at a harsh angle to the top of the boiler. A skyline casing shrouded the stack and domes from view, leaving nothing but clean lines and streamlining. Its bright headlight was recessed into the front of the engine, a skin of glass where it would have been. Back towards the rear, the sheet metal that adorned the front of the engine slowly spread out and around to the edges of the cab, leaving no sharp angles or faces for the air to catch. Nothing was there to hinder the engines speed and grace. The tender held the same styling as the engine, flowing along smoothly to the passenger cars behind it. They to were painted in the bright colors of the sun, sharing the characteristics of the locomotive that pulled them.
He walked toward the cab slowly, grabbing hold of a hoof rail and pulling himself up to the door. The door swung open before he could utter a word nor make a move. A brown earth pony greeted him with a smile and a nod. No words needed to be spoken, they both knew what had to be done. Smoke had already checked over the rods and guides, making sure they were clean and well lubricated. Everything was perfect, it all had to be perfect. The crews that worked on her adjusted and kept her in time like a fine pocket watch. It seemed to most that ran her, like she had a soul all her own. A soul that yearned to go farther and faster than anything else had previous. He flicked his tail out of the way as he sat down in the engineer’s seatbox. One foreleg out the window as the other grabbed his hat and pulled it on over his black mane. His eyes looked to the signal before the mighty iron horse, shining a bright red of defiance. The machine he commanded seemed to tug at the reins as he placed a hoof on the brake handle. A loud whistle blew in the distance…. It was shrill and sharp. The conductor's whistle, calling out for him to start. Just as he released the brakes, the signal dropped to green… Highball.
Slowly and expertly, with a hoof far more careful than his years should have allowed, he cracked open the throttle. Steam coursed through the engine’s veins, pumping and ebbing to every piece of equipment the locomotive had. It started forward, a thunderous crack from the stack blew chunks of plaster from the tall ceiling of the station. One after the other as it slithered its way out into the yard. Its big wheels turning slowly as the rails creaked and groaned under her weight. Smoke smiled to himself, he was giddy with excitement, but chose to show none of it. He kept the engine to the yard speed of 15mph. A ticket from his superiors was the last thing he wanted. All around him small switchers shoved large boxcars and hoppers back and forth, creating and breaking down trains of various lengths and complexity. Some were just solid boxcars, while others had maybe one or two mixed in with a hundred other types. A few waves and friendly whistle blasts that he returned easily. The loud low tone of his locomotive was one of a kind, Celestia’s personal train.
Minutes slinked past, the engine and long train making its way out onto the main. The yard had been like a maze, twisting this way and that. He almost had given up on ever getting out till he finally saw it himself. He saw the sign, the one that cut the yard off from the rest of the system, the sign that would allow him to unleash the incredible beast he controlled. “You are clear back here smokey.” Called a voice over the Crystalline radio. He grabbed the cord and yanked it three times sharply, eliciting loud, echoing whistle blasts into the night sky. Smoke reach forwards and pulled back on the throttle, a little to fast though. The engines drivers spun wildly before he had the chance to slam shut the throttle and bring the engine back under control. It chomped at the bit as he began opening it again. A glance at the speedometer told him he was doing 20mph… that just simply wouldn't do. As the throttle opened up more and more, the engines steccato stack talk reverberated off the cliffs and valleys around it. Louder and faster it grew as the the engine picked up speed. 30mph…
The brown earth pony from earlier, whose name was Iron Sides, was sitting on the other side of the cab. He was the firepony, the one that controlled the hellacious inferno in the locomotives belly. Unlike the times of old, all he had to do was adjust a couple levers to feed the fire more or less coal. By way of steam jets he could fling the coal into specific places inside the firebox. Smoke glanced over, watching as Iron’s eyes expertly darted from the pressure gauge to the water sight and back. He could insure that the engine had the precise amount of steam for any given load without wasting fuel or water.
50 mph…
The massive locomotive speed down the line, rods flailing wildly as she ran. If one looked at it from a distance, it looked much like a horse, galloping down the rails. Smoke pulled open the throttle more, letting more steam flow into the steam chest. He watched the gauge above him as it climbed. In his old, wise voice he called out the numbers to Iron, smiling as he did so. The tender bucked and swayed behind him, its suspension not being quite what the engine had, and even that paled in comparison to the air suspension that cushioned the heavyweight coaches behind. As a crossing came up, Smoke grabbed the whistle cord and ripped lose a coordinated song. Two long blasts, a single short one, followed up by a 3rd long blast. The steam arched up into the night sky, clouding his sight a slight bit before is cleared shortly.
70 mph
Looking forwards, the bright headlight shone brightly across the landscapes, lighting up signals, trees and shrubs alike. It extended far out in front of him, ensuring that he would see any threats long before he came to meet them head on. His hoof upon the throttle seemed to pulse with energy as the vast expansive force of steam coursed through the pipes and fittings around him. He could feel the engine breathe as she ran. A smile graced his muzzle when he finally pulled the throttle all the way back to the lock, letting all the power he had at his command, be unleashed. The stack talk got noticeably louder then, sparks and burning embers being pulled from the fire, through the fire tubes and out the stack with the exhausted steam.
90 mph…
They were on the crest of an immense accomplishment. They would be the first ponies to cross the threshold of 100 miles per hour, at least by mechanical means. Iron stood, moving over towards the engineer. Both of their eyes were glued to the speedometer, the needle slowly, but steadily, climbing towards the mark. It was 5 miles off now… so close! They could feel it now, just within their grasp. The engine was giving all she had now, the fire hotter than the depths of tartarus, the steam blasting out of the stack with immense power. 3 miles now… Smoke looked out the window, staring ahead to make sure nothing was to happen. He looked below, watching the blurring rods fling back and forth. He thanked the princesses for the abilities they had. They were able to balance the engine within tenths of an ounce, making the hammer blow from the locomotive a small fraction of what it would have been.
Iron grabbed the stallion by the shoulders and ripped him out of the window. His face full of mirth as he grabbed Smokes head and turned it towards the gauge on the backhead. His eyes went wide as the needle hovered at just over 100. They, along with all the ponies aboard the train, had done it. They had finally done it. The first steam locomotive to climb over double digits. Smoke stood and jumped for joy.