By Equestrian law, ponies were banned from joining the railway until they were 18, because of how dangerous the work environment was.

That, however, didn’t stop me.

With the help of Spotlight, and a lot of shushing when certain ponies were around the railway, I joined as a workshop hand at the age of 15, basically just a greaser. I was so happy when this happened, because there was a rule on the T.T.M.S.L., to become a hoof-plate worker, you had to first spend two years working in the shops first.

This was put into place to force ponies to learn how the engines operated, and the damage that could be caused when safety and respect was left back in the yard.

So I was happy when Ditchlight caved into his son and snuck me under the radar as a greaser. And the descent pay wasn’t a bad plus either.

A year later, Dusty was snuck in under that table with me, and we both worked together, starting as greasers and then working our way into the back shops. By the time we both hit 18, and “started” working for the railway in the shops, we were casting different connecting rods in the back shops.

Which was a position that normally took two years itself to work up to, though no one seemed to ever connect the dots. I will say that I was a little annoyed that I had to do my proper two years after the three I had already worked, but that was mostly just because I thought I had found a way to cheat the system and wasn't happy when I found out I was wrong. I did still have fun working in the back shops for two years, but I was more then ready to hit the hoofplate when my time was up.

During the five years I spent working in the shops, the one set of engines that always amazed me the most were the HG10’s. At the time I joined the railway workforce, the HG10’s were already two years old, and they were taken care of as if they were mares from Canterlot. Being the pride of the lines freight traffic and all.

Even when my time in the shops was drawing to a close, and I got closer and closer to the point where I could become an engineer, the HG10’s still looked and, according to engine crews, acted like they did when they first rolled off the assembly line.

Apparently management had been paying attention to all the times I had been caught staring, or requesting to work on, any HG10 that rolled into the shops. Let me tell you, when the day finally came where I was allowed to begin work as an engineer, and I was assigned to a HG10, #9366, I actually thought it was a cruel prank.

My reason for thinking this was based on the fact that this was not normal. Usually engineers had to work their way up from yard shunters to even get a chance to run main line engines, let alone get put behind the controls of one of the most power engines ever built. I had a feeling that it had something to do with being the grandson to the line famous Hotbox, but Ditchlight never gave me a straight answer before he passed away years later.

When I learned that Coal Dust had been assigned to be my fire-pony, I physically couldn’t stop smiling until the next morning.

As I learned the line and how #9366 reacted to my inputs, and thus how I had to change me driving style to suit her, plus Dusty got his firing down, we began to build a reputation. As a reputation that we could have anything put behind ol’ 66 and we’d find some way to get it over The Grade.

This reputation, would be quickly put to the ultimate test.

It was late summer, and the line’s busy season was in full swing. Added on to that, the week before there had been a massive fire in the factor sector of Canterlot, completely destroying five massive factories and foundries along with disintegrating multiple rows of worker housing.

Thankfully there had been few injuries and all had been accounted for in the end. So on top of our normal rush freight, we also had miles and miles worth of cars sitting in yard that had come from the overworked lumber yards, coal pits, and clay minds of the newly returned Crystal Empire.

It was absolute chaos for nearly a month, and within a week it was starting to affect everything on the line. Even with the fifty-eight HG10’s we had running non-stop along with every other engine available, we couldn’t keep up with all the demands placed on the railway.

The last three days of the week I had been running #9366 up and down the line with nothing smaller than a 300 on her back. In total, I had probably only gotten around five hours of sleep between those three days, but I had never been happier.

That had been what I joined the railway to do, sling trains up and down the line with a powerful engine at my beck and call, keeping the trains moving no matter what, even if that meant missing some sleep.

Best days of my life.

It was about seven in the evening as I brought a load of empty hoppers to a stop on one of Vanhoover’s incoming tracks, it was the seventh run I had done that day, I had been up for about twenty hours at that point.

I had barely come to a stop when the yard master, Semaphore, jumped onto the hoofplate, “Stokes, we need you and 66 now.”

I was caught off guard, but I turned and asked Semaphore, “What’s going on?”

“We need you to haul a 650 up The Grade.”

I was gobsmacked. I thought that they had gone crazy on Tuesday when they ordered me to haul a 400 up the grade, which had been hard enough to get over the hills of Vanhoover, and that was with me breaking the speed limit on the flats.

“Semaphore, I respect you, and you know that. But no offense, you've got to be mental if you think I can I get a 650 up that two-nine. Plus, why force me to take a 650 instead of just breaking it up.”

Semaphore sighed, “Under normal circumstances, I would Stokes. But, you know as well as I do that The Grade is clogged with trains right now, and the yards are just as bad. If we broke that train up, it would deadlock us, and we’d be screwed.”

I knew he was right. But, for all the power it had, a 650 was just out of #9366’s capabilities. “As true as that may be Semaphore, it’s just not possible. I'd need a helper, and the only engine with enough power to be of any use is another HG10, and I know we don't have any spare ones just lying around.”

Semaphore shook his head, “No, all the ones we have are either rostered for other trains, or in the shops because of the heavy use.”

That’s when Semaphore’s eyes lit up, “Wait a second, in the shops! Smoke Box and Piston Rod are in the shops with #9329. The running gear was damaged when the roundhouse crew in Tall Tale didn’t oil it enough between runs. If you’re lucky, the shop crew might be done with it already.”

Semaphore had barely stopped speaking when I dropped down onto the gravel, “Come-on Dusty, we have no time to lose!” I yelled over my shoulder as I took off sprinting for the shops, with Coal Dust not far behind.

We tore in and found Smoke Box and Piston Rod standing conveniently next to #9329, their HG10. They turned to us when they heard the door burst open behind them, “Stokes, Dusty, where’s the fire? I haven’t seen either of you run like that in years.” Piston Rod asked as we caught our breath.

“Is 29 in working condition?” I asked, still slightly out of breath.

Smokey and Piston looked at each other before returning their gaze to us. “Well yes and no. The milling machine they needed to replace the broken pins is down right now. They were able to jerry-rig something up so we could get to Tall Tale with a small train and have it properly fixed.” Smoke Box stated.

“Well what’s broken?” I asked. I didn’t like what I was hearing. Having something like the running gear give out anywhere on the Vanhoover side of the grade was the last thing I wanted to happen is we were going to have a 650 behind us.

But, the probability of a failure changes depending on what’s actually damaged.

Smoke Box motioned for us to follow him and we rounded over to the other side of the locomotive. I could see that pins connecting the rods to the third wheel in the line, which is where the main rod connected to the drive rod, and the bell crank and valve rod were showing signs of extreme friction.

In fact the main rod, a piece of metal an inch and a half thick and four inches wide was actually slightly bent!

“How in Celestia’s name did you bend the main rod?” I asked, astounded.

Smoke Box rubbed the back of his neck with a hoof, “Full steam and slightly ceased pins don't seem to mix well. When the shop ponies saw that, they pulled the cylinder apart to check its inner workings, and found a fatigue crack in the piston rod.”

That felt like a punch to the gut.

Heat ceased pins were one thing. A bent main rod isn't too worrying, as long as it isn’t too badly bent, and squint your eyes till it's straight again. But a cracked piston rod, that was no joke.

If the piston rod broke, it could leave the piston itself jammed inside the cylinder. If that happened the cylinder would without a doubt explode, and that would be the last thing we needed.

That's when Smoke turned to me, “Why do you ask?”

It was now my turn to rub my neck, “They want me to take a 650 to Tall Tale.”

The looks on Smoke Box’s and Piston Rod’s faces was priceless. Almost made me wish the situation was less serious. “The 10’s are powerful, but, that’s just insanity.” Piston Rod finally said.

I nodded, “For one engine, yes. But two.”

Smoke Box immediately caught on, “I don’t know Stokes. They said to stay under a 200 with that piston the way it is. And even with the both of us, that’s over three miles of train for each engines.”

“I know. But we have to give it a shot, cause if we don’t, we’re screwed anyways.”

The two looked at each other before they turned back to me, “Alright Stokes, we’ll do it.” I cracked a smile, “Let’s make history.” I said as I stretched out my hoof.

Smoke Box couldn’t help himself, he broke into a grin and shook my outstretched hoof.

Less than a minute later we were in Semaphore’s office, “Alright, Smoke and Piston are in. Give us the lowdown.”

Semaphore pulled out a clipboard from the piles of them on his desk, “You’re train is waiting in siding one, as it was the only one long enough for it. The problem is Tall Tale has no room for it in their yard without breaking it up, so we want you four to take it all the way to Canterlot.”

That, made me feel like I had my head shut in a door. Vanhoover to Canterlot at freight speed limit is a thirty-two hour journey. I looked over and saw that Smoke Box had a worried look on his face and Piston Rod had actually paled.

An impressive feat for an already white stallion.

“Take that train, all the way to Canterlot. Sem, I have no problem helping Stokes try and get it up The Grade, but 29 is still broken. I don’t know if she’ll make it all the way to the summit, let alone all the way to Canterlot.” Smoke Box finally sputtered out.

Semaphore sat there for a moment, thinking. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see if they can give up a HG10 in Tall Tale to switch with 9329. But unless you get moving now, they’ll schedule them all for the morning trains.”

We didn’t hesitate. As Smoke and Piston ran to get 9329 steamed up, Dusty and I went back to 9366, so we could get the train we had brought in put away, and 66 turned and refueled. Within fifteen minutes, we had 66 and 29 coupled up to the front of massive train.

Even without the dying light, I wouldn’t have been able to see the end of the train.

But as I looked back at miles of ‘bathtub” gondola hoppers full of clay and coal, I gulped. Three mile coal trains were some of the heaviest that we had to take over The Grade, and from the manifest, I had around four miles worth of coal sitting behind me when all was said and done. Add onto that over two miles of clay which wasn't exactly light either, I knew we were in for one hell of a fight to get up to the summit.

“Hey!” someone yelled below me.

I looked down and saw Smoke Box holding a small walkie talkie, “Take this. Management picked up a few of these to help with these double header situations. They felt using these would be easier than using whistle codes.”

I took the walkie and was about to turn back to my controls when Smoke Box spoke again, “Oh and Sem just let me in on something. Because of how, unusual, this run is, they aren’t going to let any other train up The Grade until we’re on the summit. So we got all the time in the world.”

That made me feel a little better, even though it also made me feel like it defeated the purpose of us taking such a long train to easy congestion. I nodded to Smoke before setting the walkie next to me, and turned to Coal Dust as he went over his gauges again.

“We good Dusty?”

“Yeah, by normal standards, but this isn’t exactly normal is it? I just don’t know what to expect.”

I adjusted a few valves on my side of the cab, “None of us do, we’re flying by the seat of our flanks right now. Best we can do is prepare for the worst and hope for the best.”

That’s when the walkie cracked to life, ”We’re ready when you are Stokes.” Smoke said.

I picked it up before hitting the button at the side, “Alright, we’re rollin.”

I put it down before taking a deep breath, “Now or never.” I pulled the whistle to signal to Smoke Box that I was opening the regulator.

I reach forward and cracked the regulator while also turning on the sand, last thing we needed was to grove the rails with wheel slip trying to get this massive train moving. I pulled it open to the point that a train would normally start moving, but, as I had feared, it barely budged.

I ended up pulling the regulator open halfway, and I could tell Smoke had done the same by the sound of 29's bark, before we got confirmation that the entire train was moving.

We could really feel the weight of the train as we pulled out of the yard, but as I brought the regulator up to three quarter open, I felt confident. We already had the train going 4 mph, and once we were out of the yard we had 10 miles to pick up speed before the start of The Grade.

I picked up the walkie, “I'm going highball. You know the drill from there.”

”Roger” Was all I got for a reply.

We knew the drill from here, as we had run double headers before a few times, just not like this. Running double was a rare thing on the line, especially with HG10's. I opened the regulator as wide as it would go and ticked back the reverser slightly. Soon enough we were hauling the train across the flats at 40 mph with two miles to The Grade.

The mountains loomed ahead of us, and I could see the first step up, a “gentle” 1.9%. As I watched the mountain grow closer, as we tried to continue to increase our speed, I thought about what was to come.

We had our work cut out for us, and we all knew it.

The Grade was brutal enough on the Tall Tale side, but it had nothing on the Vanhoover grades. Tall Tale was pretty much a straight 1.7% grade for 59 miles. Vanhoover may have only been a 40 mile climb, but the grades were much steeper.

There were six main grade changes, the first was a three mile climb on a 1.9% grade. This gave way to the second steepest and longest climb on the whole line, an eleven mile climb at 2.5%, a section of track that had earned the nickname Moonlight Ledge. We then would get a bit of a break as the grade dropped back down to a 1.9% for another two miles, before we were being thrown up a 2.3% for eight miles, a climb known as Discord’s Drop. We would then again get the luxury of a 1.9% for two more miles before the final push to the summit, and that was the piece of track that had us worried the most. The final climb was fourteen miles of what could only be described as an engineer’s nightmare, a grade of 2.9%. Kind of fitting that section of the line was known only by one name, The Nightmare.

It could take an engineer years to master the climb out of Vanhoover. But luckily for me, I had still had my trump card, #9366. These were the climbs she and her sister had been built for, and it was time to show the mountain just how much they could do.

“You ready for a fight Smoke!” I yelled into the walkie as the point of no return came into view.

”You better believe it. Let's do this.” I heard him yell back.

Seconds later we charged onto the first climb, and the fight was on. The bark of the engines grew louder as Smoke and I used the knowledge we had gained over months of running the line to fight the grades trying to hold back the train. The first 1.9% climb didn’t do much. We could feel the weight of the train pulling on our engines, but the two HG10’s were able to keep going without losing any speed.

We went around a corner and I caught sight of Moonlight Ledge for the first time that run. Seconds later, we thundered onto the 2.5% grade at 45mph.

It was here where our work truly started, as we passed the 4 mile marker, we had already slowed down to 41 mph, and we still had ten miles of 2.5% to go, not to mention the fact we still had to deal with the 2.9% near the summit.

The the next twenty minutes were a hard fought battle between steam, metal, willpower, knowledge, and gravity. The timing of everything had to be exact between me and Smoke, more than usual, to prevent the loss of too much speed.

But we had run double header before and we knew how to react to certain things, and how each other drove their engine.

Thanks to this, despite the fact our speed dropped down to 27mph, we crested Moonlight Ledge and stepped down to the second 1.9%.

As the miles worth of freight cars started to follow the engines onto the step down, we began to pick up speed.

We were two miles up the 1.9% when the walkie at my hooves cracked to life, ”Stokes, I’m a little worried about 29. The cylinder is starting to make a weird sound, and steam’s leaking out of the back. I don’t know how much longer it’s gonna last.”

I looked back past the tenders of #9366 at the left cylinder of #9329. Sure enough, there was a small, but constant, steam cloud coming out of the back of the cylinder, just like Smoke Box had said.

I turned back and looked up the line, to see Discord’s Drop come into view. I then looked up at the speedometer and saw that we had been able to climb up to 32mph. Looking back up at the next climb, I picked up the walkie, “I see what you’re talking about. Take it easy on the Drop. It's only a 2.3%, so if you give what you can and I give everything 9366 has, then I think we’ll be ok. Preserve that cylinder for the final battle.”

I knew Smoke knew what I meant. We still had to worry about The Nightmare, and if we lost 9329, we were screwed.

”Roger that Stokes.” was the only thing I got for a reply.

With that, I put down the walkie, and prepared for a fight. When we hit the beginning of Discord’s drop, I knew we would still have over three miles of train on Moonlight ledge, which mean I would have to fight against three different grades the 2.3, 1.9, and 2.5.

I set my resolve, this was going to be the run of a lifetime whether we got to the summit or not.

That was when we hit the Drop.

I fought the forces of gravity with the brute strength the HG10 possessed as we climbed. Thankfully, it was easier to climb this grade than the 2.5. But without #9329 fully backing me up, it was still a fight to keep going.

Another 25 minutes later, we crested the top of Discord’s Drop, and slanted down onto the last 1.9 at 18mph.

By now it had been nearly two and a half hours since we had left Vanhoover, and by normal standards, we’d already be on and over the summit.

But this was far from normal, and our day was far from over. By now, it had started to turn dark, and I clicked 66’s headlight on. The steam powered lamp shone brightly in the dark, as we once again began to pick up speed.

I picked up the walkie again, “This is it Smoke, you ready?”

”Yep. We built up a good head of steam on the Drop, feel if 29’s gonna fail, might as well go out going over the top.”

I laughed a little, just like Smoke to turn a stressful situation comical. We made it over the 1.9 quickly and soon we were staring down the last thing left between us and the summit, Nightmare.

The sight of the 2.9% grade made me gulp, this was going to be tough. I looked over to Coal Dust, we hadn’t said much to each other since we hit the first climb. We often got like that when we were focused on getting up these heavy climbs. “How’s things holding up over there Dusty?” I called over the impressive sound of the engine.

“We’re doing ok, but with the way we’ve been fighting, I don’t think we’ll make it to Tall Tale with what we have in the tenders.” I looked behind me at the window that let us look into the tender.

Sure enough, we had already gone through over have our coal, and looking at the water level glass, the rear tender wasn’t doing much better. I turned back to Dusty, “We’ll have enough to get over the summit, we can stop Stareston and fuel up.”

Stareston, was the strangely named logging facility on the Tall Tale side of the grade, about 14 miles off the summit. It was where we refuelled trains coming from the Vanhoover side of the summit that didn’t have the coal and water to make it all the way back to Tall Tale.

On a normal run, I’d fly right past with 66, but, as I kept saying to myself, this was obviously far from normal.

I then looked back up and saw Nightmare looming in the distance, and we had only sped up to 24mph.

As I looked up at the heavy grade, I caught sight of a train coming down the other side. It was a passenger train, with a very distinct engine leading it.

Now you see, the HG10’s had been such a big success, that 2 years after their delivery, management wanted a version made up for passenger services. The end product was the TT8 express passenger engine.

They used the same frame, cylinders, boiler, firebox, and tenders as the HG10, making them easy to work on for anyone who had driven or maintained a HG10. The only difference between the HG10 and the TT8, were the drive wheels. While the HG10 had a set of ten, 58 inch drivers, the TT8’s had eight massive 92 inch drive wheels. This is where the class name came from, standing for Tall Tall Eight wheeler.

These wheels were the largest wheels ever used on a locomotive of any type. These over seven foot tall wheels changed a lot of things to do with the locomotive, even though they were put on the same chassis as the HG10. For example, even with one less axle than the HG10, the wheel area of the TT8 was 16 feet larger than her freight hauling cousin, 64 feet to the HG10’s 48.

Because of this fact, the frame of the locomotive had to be extended. This also allowed the drive wheels to help hold up the heavy firebox, meaning that a smaller rear truck could be used. Thus there were only four trailing wheels, and the six foot gap of the HG10 that gave it a rather odd look, was gone. This gave the TT8 a final wheel arrangement of 6-8-4.

The massive wheels mixed with the massive cylinders of the TT8 gave it the highest top speed of any engine on the line. We really didn’t know the actual top speed of the TT8, the highest it had ever been clocked was 112mph, just a hair under the world wide speed record. But the engineer of that train had said that the engine still had plenty left to give, yet another good opportunity to find out had never really presented itself.

The only downside to having the large wheels was it drastically cut into the TT8’s tractive effort. While the HG10 was in the range of 380,000ilf, the TT8 had been measured to be just a hair under 240,000ilf. Despite this fact, the TT8 had no problem climbing The Grade with 24 heavy, metal passenger cars.

As this TT8 came closer, I was able to see the number on the lit up number boards, 9400, the first member of the class. I had to smile, and pulled on the whistle cord, sending out the distinct whistle of the Guild of Railwaymen across the vast night covered hills.

The other engine replied back with the whistle itself as it drew closer still. It was one of the greatest sounds I ever had the chance to hear. Three HG10s, basically, thundering through the hills, sending out the Guild’s whistle.

I looked to the cab of the TT8 as it drew closer. I knew that there was only one crew that was allowed touch that engine, Spotlight and Knuckle.

Spotlight, the son of Ditchlight, and had been working on the railway ever since it had been formed 27 years previous.

Even though he was getting on into his late fifties, and had taken over control of the railway a few months earlier when his father started to have health problem, along with the help of Bulkhead and Highball’s sons, Bulkhead junior and Big Red, he still ran trains.

He felt that the only way to help the ponies of the railway was to work beside them, see what they see.

As #9400 thundered past, Spotlight threw a piece of coal from his engine to ours, landing on our footplate with practiced ease and accuracy. Wrapped around the lump of coal was a note. I untied the note and read, Sorry we had to stick you with this Stokes. Good luck, you got this.

I smiled, folding the note and placing it in my denim’s pocket as we approached Nightmare at 28mph. “Here we go!” I yelled.

And then we were on it.

After learning their engine inside and out, an engineer developed the ability to feel what their train was doing through the vibrations in their seat. As we climbed further up onto the hill, I could feel the train pulling more and more on the couplers of the engines, and the locomotives start to buck as they worked hard to keep moving.

“How you holding up back there Smoke?” I asked as we passed the 28 mile marker.

”I’m getting a weird shake in the seat. I got a feeling this cylinder won’t last for too much longer.”

That was the last thing I wanted to hear. We still had twelve miles left to climb, and were already slowing down to 20mph. If I lost #9329, I knew there was no way #9366 would make it to the summit.

“Don’t do anything stupid, I feel like getting home tonight.”

”We’re already doing something stupid, but I'll do the best I can Stokes.”

We climbed further and further up the 2.9% grade, but it was slow goings. By the time we had made it to the halfway point of Nightmare, we were only going 12mph.

I was giving the old girl everything she had, and I could feel her shaking from it. It felt like the wheels were trying to break grip and slip, but with the amount of sand being laid down on the rails, it just couldn’t happen.

And she wasn’t liking it.

“Smoke box, I’m not liking the looks of this.”

”Me either. You got a plan?”

I sighed, “Go till we can’t. Who knows, miracles are a thing.”

So we soldiered on into the night at a crawl, but we continued to make ground. An hour ticked past without any of us realizing, we were too preoccupied with our tasks.

But finally, nearly two hours after we started to climb up Nightmare, we passed mile marker 39, at 7mph. We only had one more mile to go.

“Smoke, we almost got this, how you holding up?”

”i don’t know. It feels like this cylinder should have given out awhile ago. So who knows.”

I was worried about that, because I would have liked to know if I was gonna lose 29, but since we were so close to the top, I pushed it to the back of my mind.

So we continued on at 7mph, up the last little piece of the Vanhoover side of The Grade. Around ten minutes later, I could see the summit in my headlight.

I nearly cried, “We did it Dusty!” I yelled over to Coal Dust, who just turned to me and said, “Was there ever any doubt.” We laughed before I went to pick up the walkie.

And then, BANG.

I had heard cylinders blow before, but this was different. It was louder, a deeper boom, and I felt my engine actually shake because of it.

I whipped my head back and saw steam billowing out of the bottom of the left cylinder. I found it weird that the steam was coming more out of the bottom instead of the back, but I was more concerned about getting the train onto the summit.

”Stokes! I can’t keep going, the boiler pressure won’t hold!”

“Give it everything you still have, we have to get some of the train on the summit. After that, you can lay off and leave the rest to me.”

”If you say so.” was all I heard in reply.

We had been lucky that #9329’s cylinder blew with an engine’s length left before the summit. As I rolled onto the flat that was the summit, the air calmed down a little, but I knew we weren’t in the clear yet.

The locos might have been on the flat, but we still had more than six miles of train left on Nightmare.

I could feel the strain on the couplers, and we were still losing speed. We were creeping along at barely three miles per hour, and I could hear 29 struggling to give me any help. I could feel 66 bucking as she gave me everything she had to drag a train too long for her up the heaviest grade in all of Equestria.

If I hadn’t been sweating before, I was now. “Coal, how’s the boiler pressure holding up?” I yelled over my shoulder as I continued to look back at 29 and the train as it started to come up onto the summit.

“I’m having a hard time keeping up with her demands. I have a feeling we’re gonna need to join #9329 in the shop when we get back from Canterlot.”

I could feel what he meant, 66 was acting strange and I was starting to think going all the way to Canterlot was going to do more bad than good.

Then things went from bad to worse as my walkie cracked to life, ”Stokes, something’s not right. I can feel 29 shaking with each wheel turn, I think that the main axle rod is bent. I don’t know how much longer I can give her power.”

That was the last thing I wanted to hear. The "main axle" was the third axle in the line of five, and was the one that received power from the three cylinders first, and it was the one that the middle axle was connected to. The little bit of power that 29 was giving me was all that was keeping us moving right now. Without it, there was no way I’d be able to get the rest of the train onto the summit.

I looked ahead for a mile marker to give me an idea how far onto the summit I was. Luckily, I caught sight of the metal mile marker, showing 41. There was five miles of train still on The Grade, but the one mile of train on the summit was at least one less mile of train creating drag on the 2.9.

I was hoping that we could get at least two more miles of train onto the summit before losing #9329 for good. That would leave three and a half miles of train on Nightmare, and I was hoping that #9366 was going to be more happy with a normal train’s length still on the heavy grade, but there was only one way to find out.

I looked up to the speedometer, and saw that we were still holding at three miles per hour, though it seemed like it was itching to get up past four. And so we stayed like that for almost another hour we crept along like that, slowly gaining speed as we pulled more of the train onto the summit.

But finally the mile marker 44 came into view, and as we passed it at 9mph, I radioed back to Smoke, “Alright Smoke Box, over half the train’s on the summit. You can lay off, I should be able to handle getting the rest up on my own.”

”If you say so Stokes. Man I.” Smoke Box didn’t get a chance to finish as there was a loud snap that came from under #9329, along with the melodic sound of something hitting wood as we passed over the ties under the tracks.

”Celestia damn it, I think we snapped the main axle Stokes. You’re on you’re own from here. Piston, go under there and see what you can do. Don’t need management breathing down our necks about needing to replace every tie from here to Tall Tale.”

I gulped, then set the regulator to keep us at our current speed before running over to Coal Dust’s side of the cab to see Piston Rod already on the mesh running boards along 29’s boiler.

I knew what those two were planning, and I didn't like it one bit. I watched as Piston lit his horn and cast a spell, it was one known by all the shop unicorns.

It was a spell that basically made their hooves into magnets, making climbing on boilers a lot easier. I watched as the now magnet hooves Piston Rod climbed under the boiler, right through the six foot gap, using the rear bogie connection as a hoof hold.

I knew Piston was doing this so he could get a better idea of what had happened to his engine. But I also knew that what he was going was unendingly stupid.

Even with his magnet hooves, it only took one missed step and he’d be a goner. Besides that, he was just inches away from the firebox and boiler, which, as anyone could imagine, are incredibly hot.

Coal Dust and I held out breath as we waited and hoped that Piston would soon climb back out uninjured. After a few tense moments, Piston Rod climbed out from underneath #9329 and waved to us, signaling he was ok.

After watching him climb back into the cab of #9329, I went back to my seat and picked up the walkie, “How’s it looking down there?”

Not surprisingly, Piston Rod’s voice came back, ”We were right, snapped the main axle rod, and the main rod from the middle piston was smacking the ties. I fake welded it to the bottom of the boiler, and set the cylinder valve fully in, so any steam that goes in will just come back out. But there is no way we can give you any help besides braking.”

I knew what he meant by fake weld, another spell shop unicorns learned. It allowed them to temporarily “weld” metal together. But it had not structural integrity, and the slightest amount of force could break it.

It was basically just a quick fix used to keep small things together till they could be properly welded.

Then what Piston Rod said about the condition of the engine actually hit me. I wasn’t too surprised to hear how bad 29 was, but it was still shocking to hear it actually be said.

“Alright, just sit back and take a break then, not much we can do about it, don’t need to make 29 any worse than she already is.” I then sat back down and took inventory on the condition of the rest of the train, we had climbed up to 12mph and were holding, since I hadn’t adjusted the reverser to allow the train to gain more speed.

I pulled the reverser back a little bit and closed the regulator just slightly, trying to make Dusty’s job of keeping up with the hungry engine’s demands a little easier.

I sat there on my seat in silence as I watched the speedometer once again start to climb. A few minutes later, I caught sight of another mile marker, this one showing the number 46.

“Well, looks like we’re mostly on the summit now, so it should be somewhat smooth sailing now.” We still had a mile left before the Dragon Tooth bridge, but even with that distance, I could see the black abyss that was the river that the bridge spanned.

By the time we hit the bridge, we had increased our speed to 19mph, as the last of the train had been pulled off the Nightmare grade and onto the summit. By now it was almost midnight, and as I stared into the darkness ahead of us, I felt the last few days and today catching up with me.

I wavered a little bit as my eyes tried to shut on me and force me to sleep. Dusty yelled over to me as I nearly fell out of my seat as my eyes drifted shut, “Hey Stokes, you good over there!”

That snapped me back from the depths of sleep, “Yeah I’m good Coal Dust. Four days of constant runs on five hours of sleep is finally starting to catch up with me.”

Coal Dust nodded, then turned back to the gauges, I could tell he was starting to feel the strain just as much as I was. I was not looking forward to the near day and a half trip to Canterlot.

I turned and again looked out at the night, and lasted about another two minutes before I almost fell asleep again.

“Stokes. Stokey! Fire Stoker!” Coal Dust yelled as he saw me almost fall out of my seat again.

I quickly jerked myself back into place before Coal spoke again, “Maybe we should ask someone else to take the train the rest of the way to Canterlot when we get to Tall Tale. I wouldn't mind getting some actual sleep and you definitely need some.”

“Dusty, while I would love to catch up on multiple hours of missed sleep, the railway needs us right now. The other crews are so busy that, if I have to pull some extra weight, and stop by Reefer's coffee shop and get a couple extra espresso coffees, than that’s what I’ll do.”

Coal Dust shook his head, “Stokes, I understand you're a stallion of the rails and won't turn down an order, but use some common sense man. And if you won't hear it from me, than think of it this way, your grandad taught you to have respect for the railway and its equipment because of how easy it is for it to kill you or others right?” I nodded. “Well how much respect are you showing by putting yourself and others in danger because you're nearly falling asleep on the footplate and you're too stubborn to ask for somepony else to take the train? What would Hotbox think of that, or even your father?”

Everyone on the railway knew that if I started to get too stubborn I could get brought back down to Equis, if Hotbox was mentioned. I was a very thick headed pony back then, and took Hotbox's teaching a little too literally. But the one thing I refused to do, was embarrass my grandfather. I refused to let his name get muddied by my actions, not after what had happened.

However, I was shocked that Coal Dust brought up my dad. Bringing up dead rail ponies like that was something we just didn't do.

When I didn’t immediately say anything, Dusty spoke up again, “Hey Stokes, I’m sorry that I brought up Dad, I shouldn't have done that. And I know you don’t like us using Hotbox against you”

“No it’s alright Coal Dust. You were right, I’m being stubborn and letting my pride get in the way of doing my job properly. We’ll stop in and talk with Files or, somepony, when we get to Tall Tale and have them assign the train a new set of crews.”

Coal just nodded before he turned back to his work, and I did the same. We didn’t speak again till we were well over the summit and coasting down the 1.7% grade on the other side.

As we past one of the signal boxes further down the line, I blew #9366’s whistle in a specific pattern, signalling we needed to make a stop in Stareston to refuel. I watched as the signal ahead of us changed to yellow, signaling we’d need to slow down for the cross over into Stareston for the fuel-up.

I watched as the next signal ahead of us raise, showing that the switch had been thrown and that we were about to move over into the Stareston yard. As we brought the train to a stop on the yard, which wasn’t large enough to fit the entire train, under the coal hopper, Coal Dust spoke up, “Hey Stokes, I’m sorry I brought up your dad like that. And I know how much you hate it when we use your grandpa’s name like that.”

I sighed as I fully applied the brakes, stopping the train with the tenders under the coal and water towers respectively, “It’s alright Dusty. I was being overly stubborn and pig headed, and wouldn't listen to reason. You brought my grandfather into the conversation because you knew that it would make me listen to reason, so just do me a favor and drop it alright?”

I could tell that Dusty didn’t want to drop it, “Alright Stokey, I’ll drop it. But I’m here when you want to talk about him.”

I couldn’t bring myself to respond as I climbed out of the cab and onto the tenders to fill them up.

It took about twenty minutes to completely fill the first tender with coal from its quarter filled state, during which I nearly fell asleep three times. After which, I climbed across to the water tender to start filling that.

As I pulled down the waterspout, I noticed white light coming from underneath 9329, and a few seconds later, Piston Rod crawled out from under his engine.

“What’cha doing down there Piston?” I called as I pulled the cord and began to fill the tender with water.

The dirtied white stallion turned to me, “I was trying to see if there was some way to reinforce the main axle so we don’t have to worry about it causing the drive rods to lock up.”

“Have any luck?”

He shook his head, “No not really. Not much I can do without the torches that are down in Tall Tale.”

I nodded as I watched him climb back up into the cab, most likely to grab a power nap. Eventually, the water tender was full, and I put the water spout back up before working my way back to the cab.

I climbed back in to find Coal Dust getting a nap in himself, propped up against the window of the cab. I rolled my eyes and was about to go wake him up when I thought of something.

I walked back to the edge of the cab and climbed down before walking up to the drive rods. I had expected some sort of damage from the heavy demands of trying to get our massive train up onto the summit.

However, I was not ready for what I saw. Now I had asked Piston and Smoke how they had bent the main rod of 29, and now I understood how. The main rod of #9366 was bent terrible, to the point that I now had a reason to worry about my drive rods locking up.

The main rods on 29 had been bent out of place by about half an inch, the ones on 66 were nearly two inches out of line. Now I knew that we couldn’t take #9366 to Canterlot, it was just something we couldn’t do.

I turned around and climbed back into the cab, and shook Coal Dust awake, “Get up Dusty, we’re heading out.” He nodded, and with a blow of the whistle and a release of the brakes, we were moving again.

By the time we got into Tall Tale, it was nearly five in the morning, and I was happy to see the end of the longest run over The Grade that anyone would ever complete. We brought the train to a stop on the incoming track before uncoupling, and pulling 29 off with us.

I made my way over to the yard master’s office, where he informed me that two HG10’s that had been in the shop had been finished and were lined up to finish the run to Canterlot.

I was happy to hear that, and made my way back to #9366, watching as the two “new” HG10’s made their way out of shop bays 6 and 7, which were quickly occupied by #9329 and #9366.

By the time I started to make my way to the bunk houses, it was nearly six in the morning, and I was far past over tired. I was asleep before I got through the door of my bunk, and I didn’t wake up until 7 that night.

The first thing I did was go check on #9366, and got the lowdown on her damages. Turned out that when 66 had been serviced the week before, the main rods had been replaced due to fatigue cracks. But, due to the fire in the Canterlot foundries, they had to cast the rods out of cheaper metal, which evidently, was not strong enough to handle the power of the HG10.

It would be a week before either 66 or 29 were in condition to go back to work on The Grade. That was the only time The Grade would ever see a train of that size. There would be ones that would hit 580’s, and even as big as a 600 once or twice.

But after a near runaway situation with a 600 heading to Canterlot, management put into place a rule that no matter what, trains could not exceed five miles long.

Two years later, the only engines capable of double heading a 500, were banned from use.

Author's Notes:

What's going one guys! I hope you had a good New Years, or at least can remember it. Anyways, this is the first of two side chapters for this section of the story. I'm writing these so I don't have to be stupidly exposition heavy in the story proper. I might have one of these after every couple of chapters, but there are two here because they explain things from chapter two. Both have important element to the story, can you spot what they are?