Pony Express #1

>”Ah told ya, Ah don’t think magic trains are the way to go, Twi.”

>You survey the wreckage of the derailed train as Applejack reminds you for the third time that this may not have been such a great idea.

>’Wreckage’ is a strong term, actually. Let’s go with ‘Disarray’

>The train wasn’t moving even gallop-speed when you went a bit too far with the slight levitation spell to try and alleviate some of the weight

>Even that little bit was enough to cause it to jump the tracks, and the paltry two car train went off the rails.

>Your passengers were all able to make it out unharmed, thankfully.

“We can still salvage this. One way or another we still need to get everyone to Fillydelphia.”

>You spread your wings and take off; a short flight over to where the engine lay

>The feeling of flight is still new and exhilarating even if you were pretty terrible at it.

>For a couple hundred feet ahead of the modified locomotive the tracks were all twisted and broken due to some sort of aftershock from the several spells you had been using.

>Even if you did have the energy leftover to re-rail the train yourself it was obvious you weren’t going anywhere until the tracks were repaired.

>You wrack your memory for any number of large-scale mending spells.

>Long ago you had come across one that uses the thought or idea of a substance to more or less overwrite what it actually was.

>The structure of the spell implied that it was routed through some unspecified special medium.

>You figured the medium was the caster’s mind, and the spell would be limited to the caster’s understanding of the object they’re trying to fix.

>However it worked, the spell came with a good number of undefined limitations, so you figured the spell wasn’t particularly useful and didn’t bother to practice or even study it much.

>Rails are pretty simple. You know rails. It’s pretty hard to –not- understand some metal tracks over wooden ties on a gravel bed.

>May as well give it a shot.

>You focus on the tracks as they are, and imagine perfectly pristine tracks as you close your eyes and pour energy into them…

 

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>”She’s right as rain, Anon. Now get to Phelly; there’s a troop train for New York waitin’ for ya, and then yae’re on freight duty. Mike said he’ll be waitin’ for ya at the edge of the yaerd; he’s lookin’ over some paperwerk”

”Thanks, Scott. Don’t wear yourself out back there.”

>The maintenance foreman laughs as he takes his glove off and pats you on the back. “Aye, I cannae get the luxury of sittin’ down all day, but you take care of yaerself as well.”

>You scramble up the side of the locomotive, through the access door, and settle down at the control station of your old friend once more.

“Miss me?”

>You pat the side of the structural member, ‘4848’ printed on its curved face. “Deuce” was scribbled underneath the number, an affectionate nickname referring to the unique paired number.

“Let’s take you out of here.”

>You reach forward and engage the rear pantograph. Current hums through the mighty machine.

>Checking that the low field indicator was lit, you engage the throttle and the locomotive surges to life, twelve heavy motors pushing it out of the maintenance bay.

>As soon as you leave the shed, an eerie magenta glow suffuses your machine and the tracks you were on. To your left warning lights start showing; first the overload circuit warning, then the blower shutdown warning.

>The pantograph relay problem light flips on, dropping the device that’s supposed to supply your locomotive with power.

>Instead of shutting down, the air grows thick with the smell of ozone and the glow gets brighter.

>Your mind flits back to the repair summary. ‘Replace main transformer’ was top of the list.

>You leap to your feet, through the corridor connecting the front cabs and look into the window of the door on your left.

>A blinding light issues from the porthole in the door, the transformer glowing as bright as the sun.

>You try to think of a creative curse to do the situation justice, but unconsciousness claims you first.

 

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>You squeeze your wings against your body and flatten your ears against your head as a noise only describable as ‘impossibly cacophonic’ fills the air.

>Hopefully that was your spell working.

>When you open your eyes you see the tracks indeed are repaired, but a colossal structure rests upon them, casting a shadow over you.

>Its near-black coloration is only broken by five thin gold lines running what you assume is front to back.

>‘PENNSYLVANIA’ is spelled out across the side in gold lettering, along with a red keystone shape around a stylized ‘PRR’.

>You can’t make sense of any of this. Hope for quick answers to the nature of this strange machine is lost.

>On the side facing you, a door is open. You slowly move closer to investigate.

>The door is impossibly high; a series of bars beneath it might work as a ladder if the rungs weren’t so thin and spaced so far apart.

>You stand back before launching yourself airborne again. You successfully make it through the narrow opening but fail to retract your wings in time, clipping your right wing on the doorframe.

>You yelp in pain as you tumble inside, sprawling across the narrow corridor within. You come to a rest against an irregular form.

>You stand and look to your injured wing, flexing it and rotating it.

>No major pain; you’re satisfied no lasting harm has been done.

>In the silence however, you start to hear breathing. It isn’t yours.

>The form on the floor stirs.

>You step back in shock around the tight corner, bumping into the ajar door. When you turn in fright you push the door closed with an echoing clang.

>After nothing further happens, you gather your wits and look back to the struggling creature on the floor.

“What are you?”

 

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>Your head is killing you.

>You’re not sure what happened, but you can’t smell ozone anymore.

>The locomotive isn’t moving, and you can’t decide whether that’s good or bad.

>You’re leaning towards good.

>You try to stand, but everything aches.

>From the floor beneath you a few soft clanks echo, followed by a loud bang.

>You flinch, and struggle to your back to see the cause of the noise.

>”What are you?”

>The female voice was a relief

>The specific wording, not so much.

>Finally turning over, you look to see who the speaker was.

>Once you do, you decide seeing may not be enough

“Did I really hit my head that hard?”

>The diminutive purple horse cocks her head in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Or maybe I was electrocuted,” [spoiler] [/spoiler] >you continue to muse to yourself aloud, [spoiler] [/spoiler] “but if you’re an angel then boy did they get it wrong back home.”

>The tiny horned horse continues to look at you in confusion, but a wing flares out briefly from her right side before adjusting itself and folding back.

>Feminine voice, feathered wings. Good enough.

“Alright, Ms. Angel, I thought death was supposed to ease all pain. Why does arriving in Heaven hurt so much?”

>The pony smiles awkwardly and starts towards you. “Well, I can assure you you’re not dead. This isn’t ‘Heaven’, we’re just outside Canterlot. And the name’s Ms. Sparkle. Princess Twilight Sparkle.” Twilight extends a hoof towards you.

>A princess, huh? Of Canterlot? You’ve never been around royalty before, and have never heard of a ‘Canterlot’.

>She so far hasn’t demanded much in terms of honors anyway, playing it casual might be the name of the game. You weren’t sure whether to shake the hoof or if it was an offer of help.

>You go for the handshake but when you make contact, some force pulls on your hand, almost as if gripping you back.

>You pull your hand away in shock and shake it like the hoof somehow bit you.

>”Ah, did I hurt you?”

>You stare at your hand. Completely normal.

“No, just uh… nevermind. Sorry about that.”

>You go for the shake again, expecting the strange sensation this time. You get one good pump in before she hauls you to your feet.

>Standing to your full height, you look down at Twilight. She can’t be any more than four feet tall.

>She looks back up you with embarrassment in her eyes. “So that’s why it’s so roomy in here.”

>You look around you. Definitely still the interior of ol’ Deuce.

“It’s alright. A little cramped actually. Now mind telling me how I got here?”

>Twilight’s ears flopped backward, and she stepped away in embarrassment. “That was my fault, actually. See I tried to repair the tracks here but I guess the spell pulled from another dimension instead of just my imagination- those spells really need to be labeled better- and-“

>You cut her off with a slice of your hand. Magic huh? Well what else would explain a talking horse?

“Don’t need the fancy details. So you stole our rails and brought me along for the ride. Mind sending me home? I have a tight schedule to keep.”

>You aren’t too enthusiastic about the expression that grew across her face.

>”Eheh, lemme get back to you on that… Just stay right here alright?”

>Twilight vanishes in a flash of magenta light

>Your heart sinks. The spell isn’t reversible? You can’t be stuck here, there’s so much that needs to be done on the home front!

>You make your way over to the driver’s chair, numb. The control panel and indicators are all dark.

>You absentmindedly put your hand on the throttle. No juice. You push it to the closed position.

>This has to be all some sort of dream or hallucination. Maybe the transformer exploded, or the train came to a sudden stop and you hit your head on the opposite wall. If you just sit tight and stay calm, it’ll be over.

>A few minutes later a discordant chiming sound from behind startles you.

>Twilight is there, two books and a crystal in ornate gold filigree floating around her.

>”Alright, I got an idea. Can this thing move?”

“No, I don’t have any power.”

>You stand and walk around Twilight, heading for the transformer access door.

>You check over the transformer enclosure, and cannot see any obvious damage.

>Checking the coolant pressure gauge however reveals the vessel is completely empty inside. Whatever caused the obnoxious glow was enough to eliminate the transformer oil from a sealed vessel without causing an explosion.

>Thinking back to the bright glow, you wonder if the oil within somehow reacted with Twilight’s spell.

“Looks like I won’t be able to use any if I could get it, too. Transformer’s shot.”

>Twilight pokes her head into the enclosure behind you. ”So this runs on electricity, then? Alright, that should be easy! Can you loosen the transformer up for me?

>Before you can turn to ask what was going on, Twilight darts out of the cab. By the time you get to the now-open door you just catch her gliding to the ground. She lands in the middle of a couple dozen more pastel ponies of various shapes but mostly uniform size.

>You turn to grab your ample toolkit and start getting to work.

>You’re not sure what Twilight would do after you unfasten it- without lifting the hood so to speak you can’t get it out- but you comply with her request and disconnect the leads to boot. You reset the overload detectors once this is done, to prepare the train for whatever she has in store.

>After you’re done you stand and return to the driver’s station, peering out the window.

>Twilight is surrounded by a couple dozen other pastel ponies.

>Off to the side a white unicorn surrounded by crates steps forward

>A very boxy-looking turntable along with several speakers and some equipment you don’t recognize float out of the crates.

>A bundle of cables unwraps itself in midair, and explode out into their individual wire components.

>Twilight flies back up to the cab.

>”Alright! I don’t have enough here but it’s a start. Can I acquire more from the transformer?

“You can if you can get it open. It’s all sealed up.”

>Twilight peers through the access door at the large transformer housing.

>”No sweat!”

>The transformer starts glowing before vanishing in a flash.

>Another flash out the window catches your attention. Off in the distance, a large object falls out of the sky onto a large rock buried in the plains.

>You have a pretty good idea what it is.

>Twilight launches herself out the cab door again, leaving the cables behind.

>Something is definitely off about the way she flies, you think; a lack of grace, a little wobble and bob.

>Despite this Twilight makes it over to the downed transformer in under a minute, and inside the span of a second is already on her way back. Coils upon coils of wire follow in her wake.

>She stops off near a pink pony off to the side of the crowd, bundling all the cables before her.

>After a brief conversation the pink pony nods, turns to the material, and suddenly that immediate area becomes a blur of flying copper.

>You really wish you knew what was going on.

>Stepping to the door of the cab, you flag Twilight down. The winged unicorn trots over with a smile on her face.

>”So far, so good. Everything’s coming together!”

“Right, okay, but what is ‘everything’?

>”Well, right now we’re throwing together a makeshift dynamo for some power. Ponyville has a hydroelectric dam I’ve studied before, and a good friend of mine has a knack for building machines on the fly. We need all this to get your train moving first. I’ll show them a train can run on magic afterall!”

“That’d be much appreciated, but where are we going to take it? Don’t tell me I can just ROLL back home.”

>The two books Twilight had returned with starts drifting across the cab, along with the ornately housed, bright pink crystal.

>”According to “The Magic and Mechanics of Teleportation,” volume four, seventh edition, revised, much larger distances can be traveled with less effort if you have a positive velocity vector in the appropriate direction. On page on 143, volume two mentions that teleportation beacons- a common training tool for those first learning the spells- don’t need to be set to just their own location; they can be linked indirectly to other places if they can be associated with an item originally from there, while on page 37 it mentions they can be tripped remotely and teleport THEMSELVES to the desired destination using magical energy already contained within! I just have to imprint the locomotive itself on the crystal, fasten the crystal somewhere in the locomotive, and once we get it up to speed I can remove myself and have it teleport itself back home! Now since it’s trans-planar travel it’s probably going to take a lot more power, but this is a pretty large crystal and I know it’s topped off. I’m not sure which direction you should be heading in, but any is likely better than none, and we only have two choices here. It’s the best we can do, and I’m confident it’ll work!”

>You can’t say you understood all that- you followed to vectors and heard that the crystal was some sort of magic battery but everything else went over your head- but it sure sounded like Twilight had the concepts down pat, and having an expert on your side was always a good thing.

“Alright, show me this dynamo. I can try to get it hooked up.”

>Twilight looks behind her out the door, and then trots over to the transformer access bay. Her horn glows bright for a brief moment before a racket of the worst kind fills the air, and a large structure appears inside.

>The rickety contraption must be the most unsafe thing you’ve ever done to an engine or train as a whole, and your years of experience have occasionally forced you to pretty radical extremes. It is, however, recognizable as a dynamo, if you squint hard enough.

>It takes you a full ninety seconds to find where the outputs are, and you carefully reconnect the leads.

>The frame looks like it was salvaged from a schoolyard swing-set, and you can’t see any feasible way to fasten it in-place. It’ll have to remain free-standing.

“Alright, convince me this thing works.”

>Twilight nods and her horn starts glowing. A chuck on one end of a central spindle glows as well, and slowly starts spinning.

>After taking a few seconds to marvel at the fact this contraption was capable of rotation, you head for the control station.

>Sure enough, all the old indicators are now lit.

>You sit down at the station, squeeze the dead man’s handle and depress the foot pedal to make it stick. You ease the throttle into the first notch, just to get started.

>Deuce does indeed lurch forward, but only falteringly. The low-field indicator light is still lit, as it should be when the train first starts.

>You open the throttle to notch five, and flip low-field configuration off, thinking it may just be a problem starting. The ride smoothes out but a glance to the speedometer shows you’re accelerating far slower than you should be.

>You get up and head for the transformer compartment. Twilight is there, her horn’s glow approaching the intensity you saw in this room before you got sent here. The whole dynamo construct is glowing the same color, but much less bright.

>Twilight’s labored breathing can be heard from the door. You try to enter the area to reach her, but you hesitate as you find no way around the whirling brushes and windings.

“Twilight? Hey, Princess! Hold up a sec, take it easy!”

>Twilight stops squeezing her eyes shut just long enough to glance at you. As soon as she makes eye contact the glow disappears from her horn and she immediately collapses on the floor, panting.

>You wait for the dynamo to stop spinning, before sidling around it to Twilight’s side. You lay a hand on her back between her slumped wings; her heavy breathing and damp hide displaying just how much effort she had to provide power.

>She looks up at you weakly.

>“Just need… to catch… my breath… That was a little... bit harder than I thought.”

>You pat her on the back and smile.

“Well you got us moving. It’ll take us a bit longer to get up to speed but as long as you don’t kill yourself it’ll do.”

>Twilight slowly stands, and nods after she composes herself. “I can get another unicorn to help me. Two should be enough.”

“Your show, take whoever you need.”

>You flatten yourself against the wall of the compartment as she slips past. After she leaves the cab, you make your way back to the control station and reset everything to the starting position once more.

>Shortly after, Twilight darts back inside the cab. From outside issues an indignant-sounding, “Can I get some help here?”

>You peer out the door to see a white unicorn standing at the bottom of the access ladder. The eyes are obscured by purple-tinted goggles, but it’s obvious they’re looking up expectantly at you.

>The unicorn’s expression doesn’t relay the sense of wonderment you saw on Twilight’s face when she first saw you.

>You kneel and reach a hand down to offer the assistance requested. The blue-maned unicorn puts a hoof in your hand- giving you that same disembodied grip feeling- and you pull the pony up inside.

>”If she’s destroying my cables to get you home, you’d best be worth something,” the unicorn mutters in a voice much harsher than Twilight’s, yet still feminine.

>Twilight gives her a hard look as she passes by, but the white unicorn doesn’t seem to notice.

>Turning back to you, the princess’ expression brightens. “That should make it a lot easier. How fast can we go, and at what acceleration?”

>You look to the speedometer, but you really don’t have to. You have the numbers memorized.

“Deuce is geared 24 to 77; she can hit a hundred miles per hour in little over a minute. At the rate we were gaining speed back there, it’d take closer to two. Call it two and a half to be on the safe side.”

>Twilight thinks this over a bit, and nods. “Let’s make a practice run. Half the speed for twice the time; we’ll do the teleport coming back. We need to end over the rails you came in on.”

“We won’t hit the derail just beyond?”

>”You tell me when we’re up to speed, and we’ll pop out. I’ll be able to judge on the outside exactly when I need to trigger the crystal.”

>It sounds far too risky for you, but you don’t know how much time you’re wasting while you’re here. You have strict deadlines to meet back home.

“Get ready, then.”

>Twilight nods again and heads back. Moments later the control panels light up again and you ease the throttle to the first notch.

>The train starts forward much smoother this time. You slowly open the throttle up more and the response is definitely better.

>You shake your watch out of your sleeve and start counting the minutes.  The ride up to 50 was smooth, and you give yourself more than enough time to slow down. You flip the motors to dynamic braking and coast your way down to a stop, a couple seconds before the five minute mark.

>The train can be controlled in the opposite direction by simply moving to another control station. You pop the rotair valve into the correct position for reverse operation and move to the other side of the train, poking your head into the transformer room on the way

“Ready for the real deal?”

>The two unicorns sit on either side of the dynamo, Twilight on the far side facing you while the other has her back turned to you while standing just inside the door. You see Twilight nod through the spinning mass, and you continue to the opposite corner of the cab structure.

>You sit back down, navigate the dead-man throttle locks and start Engine 4848 moving again. You pass fifty again without any problems, and pop the throttle all the way to the final peg, 22.

>As you pass sixty-five, you acceleration starts to drop off. Once you pass eighty, dramatically so.

>You’re about fifty seconds to impact- your sense of timing is impeccable after all these years- and you’re still not going fast enough.

>A worried voice issues from the transformer compartment.

>”Should we go now?”

“We’re not fast enough, but if you’re leaving you need to make it soon!

>The silence that follows wastes another six seconds.

>”We’ll stay! We need to get you home! Tell us when to activate it!”

>You grit your teeth and return your attention forward. The derailed train ahead looms closer. You’re playing ‘Chicken’ with yourself at this point; you know you have to be over the stolen rails going as fast as possible, but your survival instinct is welling up fast.

>Thirty seconds.

>Your eyes dart to the toppled steam engine lying on the side of the track. You don’t think there’s enough clearance to avoid a collision with it if you overshoot and end up pulling alongside. Scraping the paint on Deuce’s flank would be a damn shame.

>Twenty seconds.

>You’ve just passed ninety-three miles per hour and still accelerating ever so slowly. Time seems to slow down ever so slightly; you almost feel like you can count the individual railroad ties.

>Ten seconds.

>You turn your head to call out to Twilight, but spare one last glance forward. You’re almost on top of the wreck, and never has something so stationary seemed so terrifying

>Eight.

“TWILIGHT?!”

>No immediate response

>Six.

”PATCH US THROUGH, TWILIGHT!”

>Four.

>You jerk your head to the fore. You can make out the lettering on the side of the cars; “Royal Canterlot Express.”

>Three.

>A warm glow suffuses the whole locomotive as you tense against the frame of Deuce to brace for impact, not that it’ll help at ninety-nine.

>Two.

>Your vision goes crazy, the discarded cars ahead of you seeming to implode on themselves, an abyssal darkness in the center of your vision stretching out to meet an unfathomable light around the edge. Where they meet rainbows trace eccentric patterns across every object you can still make out.

>One.

>A sound you’ll never in your life be able to articulate fills your ears, seemingly coming from inside your head instead of some outer source. It grows in volume quickly until it’s not only all you can hear, but all you can even think about, the sound pulsing rapidly as the rainbow cracks in your vision multiply.

>Zero.

>You black out as the train crashes to a halt.

 

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>”Anon! Anon, what the hell is going on? Wake up!”

>A familiar voice brings you back to the waking world

>You open your eyes to the bright day, and loll your head to the side to see just what is shaking your shoulder.

>A broad, strong hand rests on it, violently vibrating your frame. Once you manage to focus, it squeezes you instead, almost painfully.

>Mike was always a bigger man than you, having been a fireman in a steam locomotive before joining your crew. Shoveling coal all day really builds a man up, experience you’ve never had; a city boy who got to work electrics from day one.

>You roll your head back weakly, and his face gazes down at you with an expression of utmost concern.

“You’re the one who woke me up… you tell me?”

>Mike leans back and scratches his head. “Well you seem to have just… jumped. You were rolling out of the shed them suddenly Deuce leaps forward some hundred yards in a single instant. The track behind you is all bashed up.”

>You pull your head forward again and groggily rub your eyes. Slowly you ease your way out of the seat. Why did everything hurt so much?

>You feel like you’re forgetting something really important, but it’s just under the surface. Like oil on top of a pond, a rainbow sheen an impossibly thin barrier between you and soothing water.

>Rainbows… like you had… heard rainbows? What?

>The oily sheen parts, revealing a tiny glimpse of the depths of memory below. ‘Scraping the paint on Deuce’s flank would be a damn shame…’

“Stay… just stay right here. Don’t move from that spot. Don’t move a muscle. Please.”

>Mike’s look of concern only deepens further, but he straightens up to comply.

>You edge past him and scramble down the access ladder after you almost fall out the door.

>Sure enough, there’s a great metallic streak, underlining the back half of ‘PENNSYLVANIA’. It’s thin, and Deuce’s metal shell isn’t even dented, but it’s there.

>You look ahead of the train- if you had been leaving the shed you have no idea why you were at the reverse station- and see the warped tracks. The gravel packed beneath them was thinner, each pebble smaller. The shards of wooden ties left around were of a different material than the ones used in the yard.

>Something drops a dollop of detergent into the oily pool of memory. The slick parts rapidly, and you’re not sure you like what you see in the waters of your mind.

“SCOTTY?!” [spoiler] [/spoiler] >you yell towards the shed, and bolt for the access ladder.

>Mike is still standing there motionless, taking your request rather literally.

“Alright uh…”

>He finally turns to look at you, the concern on his face discarded for confusion

>You make several meaningless hand gestures while you mouth silent half-words. Eventually you wave a hand dismissively, and turn for the transformer compartment.

>You wrench open the door, and look at the contents therein.

>A makeshift dynamo stands in the middle of the compartment. Somehow it came through entirely unscathed.

>Practically at your feet is a small white form, unconscious. A similar purple one lies across the dynamo from you, against the far wall.

>A crystal sits wedged against a mounting bracket for a transformer no longer there. Fractured filigree surrounds the dull grey but unblemished crystal, and the whole assembly is in a sorry state.

“Damn! Mike, you’re not gonna believe this, but I could really use your help right now.”

>Your fireman peers around the corner, and fails to stifle a guffaw. “I didn’t know we were in so much a crunch that Maintenance is making transformers by hand now.”

“No, that’s… just shut up and help me move it.”

>Mike obliges, and only after he helps you move the unstable frame to the side does he notice the white form below.

>”I thought ‘Iron Horse’ was a just an old metaphor.”

“It’s a long story, apparently a lot longer for me than you.”

>You pick the white unicorn up with great difficulty- she had to weigh around a hundred fifty pounds- and after a cursory inspection for any obvious injuries handed her off to Mike, who experiences no difficulty at all.

>You made your way back to Twilight, and cradle her in your arms as you shuffle back out of the compartment.

“Let’s get them to the rear stations, until we figure out what to do with them. Until they come around we can’t go anywhere without a new transformer.”

>”We just got ya one, what’re ya talkin’ about?”

>He freezes halfway up the access ladder when he sees Twilight in your arms as you turn to face him.

>”Kennin’ ya found something we didn’t put there. The boys in back must ‘ave a story for me.” A frown besets his face as he finishes the climb inside.

>You back away to place Twilight at the aforementioned station, Mike putting the other unicorn across the cabin as Scott checks out the dynamo. “Wee bit of a patch-job, aye?’

“It was an emergency.”

>”Twenty yaerds from the shed?”

“On your end, sure. It’s a dynamo. Just pretty it up for me, make sure I can receive auxiliary power from the pantographs, and make sure nobody else gets in here to work on this. Forget the guys in back; I have a story for you that you’ll never believe, and mum’s the word.

>”I don’t know Anon, ya want me to rebeld this while we got three more in the shed and not enough time?”

“For a longtime pal, Scott. At this point you’re the only other one I trust in here right now. Mike and I can help where needed.”

>The foreman sighs. “Well we have no other transformers anyway. Lesse what I can do, but I think it’ll take a miracle.”

“Good thing you’re a miracle worker, Scotty. You’re the best.”

>You take one last look at Twilight’s unconscious form before jumping out of the locomotive and sprinting to the yardmaster’s office. You have a feeling your headache’s only going to get worse.