#mechamorph EU

[wolfwin-writes-sometimes]

The Night Shift

@flashfictionfridayofficial

So this is my first Flash Fiction Friday since opening my new writing sideblog. Fittingly this is my longest entry yet at a whopping 760 words, much longer than my usual offerings. This is also the first time I've written a story in my Mechamorph Extended Universe on tumblr (more information available in my pinned post) so hopefully the technical terms and machine talk aren't too overwhelming (can you tell trains are one of my special interests?).

Anyway, enough waffling. Here's my entry for FFF#118, found below the cut. All feedback and questions very welcome: Ask about my characters! Tell me about my bad grammar and huge sentences! etc.

Warnings: War mention, Bodily Harm/Injury, Burns

“Alright Madison we’re ahead of schedule, nice work. Let’s keep that steam pressure up.” From the footplate the thundering of Madison’s valve gear drowned out the sounds of the early night, mixed with the cacophony of other mechanical sounds that formed a familiar soundtrack. Hugo had one arm out of the driver’s window as dark grey smoke poured along the engine’s boiler and rushed past the cab. A mechanised stoker slowly turned over underneath the cab floor, the unseen screw forcing coal from the cab into Madison’s roaring fire. The radiant heat washed over Hugo’s legs, staving off the cold of the French evening. He was glad that he didn’t have to feed that enormous furnace that propelled them through the night, the few times the mechanical stoker had failed he hadn’t enjoyed the task and that hadn’t even been running at speed. She was a hungry girl; and judging by the sight-glass, a thirsty one too.

Madison ran fast and free. The P1 was one of only two examples to be built; an immensely powerful freight locomotive although she was starting to show her age. Running 100 wagon trains to and from the coalfields since 1926 had been strenuous work and her boiler ached. But this was war, and a single freight locomotive wasn’t worth the steel needed to repair them. What was worth something was the long line of trucks behind her loaded with munitions destined for the Maginot Line. With German forces creeping ever closer to the fortifications it was expected that a bitter and drawn-out defence was going to break out soon.

“You’re losing some pressure in the booster. Are your pipes alright?” Hugo gently tapped one of the many gauges in front of him that informed him how his mechanical partner was getting along.

“Does it matter what I say? Both of us know that the REC would rather throw me under the cutter’s torch than repair my leaky pipes. I’ve got plenty of steam in me so just let me run alright. Believe it or not I know how to do that.” A green light nestled within the cluster of steam gauges and controls lit up as a voice filled the cab, punctuated by an impetuous blast of steam from the cylinder drain cocks.

“No need to get defensive, I’m just doing my job as your engineer.” Hugo rolled his eyes at the snarky mechamorph. He knew she wasn’t too upset, just focused on the work at hand. He swung open the firebox doors to check on the fire’s condition but before he could take a good look a sharp crack rang out. A detonator? But the track was all clea-

Hugo’s train of thought was broken off by an explosion beneath Madison. Hot coals flew through the air as the cab was propelled upwards away from the rails, sounds of shearing metal filled the air as the steam pipes connecting Madison’s boiler to the booster engine underneath her tender fractured. Scalding steam was violently vented into the cab, catching Hugo square in the unprotected face and causing him to instantly recoil in pain. He quickly passed out, crumpling on the footplate red faced but not from embarrassment.

“Over yonder hills where foundry flames fly. Where coal fields lay under the red sky. That’s where a being of steel find rest. That’s the home we’ve come to know best. That’s what we always said at Doncaster.” Madison struggled down the line, her inside valve gear was ruined restricting her to two cylinders rather than three. Repeating the little ditty to nobody in particular, forcing herself to stay moving. Her booster engine had been obliterated by the explosion along with her trailing axle which painfully clattered along the sleepers. Her boiler had buckled upward, and all of her glass fittings were shattered, but thankfully she hadn’t exploded… yet. If she could just make it to the hills there was a station, they could call for help. She wished she could reconfigure and walk but if anything, it would just damage her more. She wished she could just stop in a siding and wait to be found the next day, but she couldn’t. For Hugo’s sake. For the sake of the 20-year-old conscript, he was just a child really. A kid playing with trains who had been forced to take his toys to war, he never even trained with a rifle. All he knew was keeping Madison clean and running, she owed it to him to keep him running too.

“C’mon Hugo we’re almost there, there’ll be help for you over yonder hills. Stay with me.”