Thomas and Friends: Tales from the Mainland Volume 1

by The Blue EM2

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Misty, Argyle Starshine, My Little Pony: A New Generation, Adventure, Equestria Girls, Mane 5, Crossover, Anthology, Opaline, Queen Haven, Alternate Universe
Length: 53729

We're on the Road to Nowhere, Let's Find out where it Goes!

After the restoration of the magic and the saving of the Festival of the Sea, Falmouth has entered into a new golden age as Britain's NFV capital. However, the world isn't a totally peaceful place, with mysterious actors in the background intent on destroying this brave new world. Join Sunny, Salty, and their friends for a collection of all new adventures on the Mainland, finding new discoveries along the way. But above it all, this rag-tag band of unlikely acquintences will do their part, hand to heart.

This compilation features adaptations of MLP G5 stories, TTTE episodes, and some original material in the mix as well. Written as part of the 40 Years of My Little Pony celebrations.

Published 2023-01-23 12:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-02-19 12:06:42 UTC

The Way she Does It, Part 1

One glorious morning, Lord Haven arrived at the shed where Alexandra was kept to prep her for running. "Good morning!" he said. "I have some exciting news regarding your running in!"

"Oh?" Alexandra asked, looking at him with some surprise. "What is it?"

"We are going to be transporting some very important people, or VIPs for short. We will be working up to Truro to collect them later today, then run back down to Falmouth and wait whilst they put on a special show." He had, by this point, climbed into her cab and had lit her fire. Alexandra was, effectively, a vertical boiler locomotive, so it didn't take her very long to get up to steam.

"Oh! This is most exciting!" Alexandra said, and with a blast of steam moved off to the station, passing by Charles waiting for his driver to arrive. "Hello Charles!"

"Ah, morning," Charles said, still a bit tired. "Anything interesting happening?"

"Why, yes!" Alexandra replied. "Myself and Lord Haven are to commence a great perigrination! An association of thesbians is to navigate to our humble town to entertain the masses! And we shall transport them to this great villa."

As Alexandra steamed past, Charles blinked. "I can only assume she brought a thesaurus with her."

As Alexandra rolled to a stop in the platform, she saw Salty and Porter, both of whom were awaiting their drivers. "Hello boys!" she called. "Falmouth is about to go up market!"

"I thought Cornwall already was quite up market, based on the house prices," Porter said.

"That's because Englishmen live in our houses, often buying them as holiday homes," Salty explained.

"I was wondering why we heard so few Cornish accents around here."

"Anyway," Alexandra said, "Today, I am to collect a troupe of travelling players, who are arriving to stage a son et lumiere, as they call it du continent."

Porter's face scrunched up in confusion at what he was being told, and Salty looked equally baffled.

"It shall be a special treat for everybody who lives here, not to mention the tourists!" Alexandra then set off up the line to the coaling stage.

"Very nice!" Salty said. He then glanced to Porter. "I have absolutely no idea what she was talking about."

"Me neither," Porter said. "It seems to be a trait amongst certain people to use lots of big words to sound clever, when in reality it makes them incomprehensible."

"I'll ask Sunny about it when she arrives," Salty said. "Speaking of whom, have you seen her anywhere?"

"No," Porter replied. "And on that note, where's Izzy?"

Meanwhile, Izzy had succesfully shifted an incredible amount of junk to the pathway outside the lighthouse. She seemed to be sticking it into a pile of sorts, all whilst singing a song.

"Where are we gonna play today? Sunny's Lighthouse!

Come on Along, we're on our Way! Sunny's Lighthouse!

All of our Friends are there, Hooray! Sunny's Lighthouse!

Shining a light to guide the way! Sunny's Lighthouse!"

At last, her adjustments seemed to be done, and she hopped on the top. "Perfect! The balance is ideal!"

Just then, Hitch and Zipp arrived, and looked up in confusion. "Uhh, Zipp?" Hitch asked. "Do you have any clue why Izzy's sitting on top of a huge mountain of trash?"

"No," Zipp replied. "It does look structurally unstable, though."

Izzy, however, paid them no heed. "This is so exciting because this is the best birthday present I ever made because I finally had a friend and it's her birthday!" She paused. "That was a long sentence."

Unfortunately, Zipp's prediction proved to be correct, and the structure began to wobble. With a crash and a crumble, the tower started to tumble, and the writer began to question why he was referencing the rhyming era of Thomas and Friends.

Izzy, of course, fell off, but Hitch, happening to be in the right place at the right time, caught her. "Boy are you heavy," Hitch said.

"Well, yeah! Human beings do weigh a fair bit!" Izzy replied.

Zipp had taken out a notebook in the meantime and was taking notes. "Tower lacked basic structural integrity. Probably needs a redesign to make more stable."

Hitch sighed. "You're safe now. Sorry your tower got trashed."

"It's not the tower I'm so much concerned about as my glasses," Izzy replied. "I need those for reading or crafting, unless I particularly want to read funny squiggles. I'm a bit long sighted."

Seconds later, they landed back over her eyes. "Hooray! Though I do need to remove them before travelling." The glasses were joined by a bracelet she had made a few seconds later. "Whoo!"

The door to the lighthouse opened, and a very tired looking Sunny stepped out, with some caffeineated beverage in her hand. "Is everybody OK? It sounded like an earthquake just went off nearby. I could feel it from where I was."

Izzy leaped forward. "Happy birthday, Sunny!" she cheered. "Feels good saying that for the first ever time. I made you a present!" She handed her the bracelet, which Sunny clipped onto her wrist just above her watch.

"Thank you, Izzy!" Sunny replied. "I've got some things that need doing today, but how about we go into town first? It's market day, and I imagine there'll be something there that will fire your imagination!"

They watched as Hitch tried to clear the path of rubble. "Hey! Zipp! Can you lend me a hand?"

Zipp rolled her eyes. "Fine. Why do we always end up cleaning up other people's mess?"

Sunny and Izzy wandered along the path that led from the lighthouse to the engine sheds that had been built nearby. "Thanks for the gift, Izzy," Sunny smiled. "You have no idea how great it is to have friends to share my daily life with."

"Hey, no problem!" Izzy smiled. "And that one came together all by accident. Weird, huh?"

"I'd call it Izzytastic!" Sunny joked.

As the two laughed, neither of them noticed Misty watching from the treeline. "I have a direct visual on them, Opaline. They're heading into town. No signs of magic from them yet, but all the talking steam engines suggests otherwise."

"That's excellent," Opaline said. "Rendnezvous with Boomer in the towns square and proceed to Phase 2 of the plan. Funny, though. I could have sworn the image I was given by an operative of Sunny's appearance looked different."

"Yes," Misty said, "but Izzy says that portraits nowadays are produced to a romanticised ideal rather than the idiosyncratic features of the subject in question."

"Clearly Izzy has a much larger vocabulary than you," Opaline replied. "Get moving."

Misty closed the radio unit and set off into Falmouth- only to immediately trip on a rock. "Ow!"

Meanwhile, Alexandra had arrived at Truro, and I'm sorry to say that the job she had been given had rather gone to her cab roof. "It only seems fitting that a railcar, a magnificent piece of Edwardian engineering such as myself, should transport some of the greatest actors of the age. I wonder who is on the bill for this performance, hmm? David Tennant? Stephen Fry? Maybe even Peter Capaldi?"

"What's the hold up?" shouted a DMU. "You're blocking the points! I need to be in Exeter sharpish!"

Alexandra shuffled forward into the bay platform to let the DMU pass. "Oh! Sorry!" She continued fantasising about what the show might entail as she waited.

At the engine shed, Sunny and Izzy parted ways, as the yards needed some work doing to them. Izzy dashed past the stands like a kid in a candy store, excited to see what could possibly be on offer. She skidded round bends and gawked closely at stands covered in exciting things. "Ooh! Fish!"

"There's certainly a lot of it in Cornwall!" the store owner smiled. "If you want a good, healthy diet, come to Cornwall."

Izzy's eyes were wide, and she continued walking along looking at all the things. Suddenly, she crashed into something and stopped.

"Ouch!" Pipp said. "Izzy, please be careful!"

"You knew about the market?" Izzy asked, amazed, as she helped Pipp up.

"It's the only place to be for inspiration!" Pipp replied, before returning to her phone. "That's right, Pippsqueaks! If you're looking for the best wearables, makeables, craftables, and snackables this side of Penzance, come to the Falmouth market, every Wednesday and Saturday!"

"I'm not convinced most of those are real words," said one store holder.

Suddenly, Salty rattled by on a nearby siding. "Good mornin', me hearties!" he said. "Life is pretty good right now. Sea air, an old market, and plenty of trucks to shunt." He then started singing. "When love just seems so far away!"

"Keep hauling, keep hauling!" the trucks responded.

Izzy laughed. "Now THAT is quite something to behold. One engine calling, and dozens of trucks responding."

"But what is Sunny wearing on her wrist?" Pipp asked.

"A bracelet that I made for her," Izzy replied.

"I'm calling it! New trends!"

Hitch huffed and puffed as he put the last boxes away. "What a mess," he said. "How did Izzy find all this stuff anyway?"

"I can only assume she's been going dumpster diving, again," Zipp sighed. "I've tried explaining to her that diving in bins and looking for rubbish is not what recycling is. You're supposed to reuse it BEFORE you throw it away."

"Still, hopefully this won't happen again," Hitch replied. "All in a day's work!"

"You guys really do use a lot of nautical vocabulary."

"Slightly more importantly, why is all the stuff we just put away all over the pathway again?"

Meanwhile, Izzy had moved to the yard, and was currently trying to flag Salty down. The diesel rattled to a stop before her and smiled. "Hi, matey! What troubles are bothering you?"

"Can I talk to Sunny?"

Sunny poked her head out of the cab. "Is something the problem?"

"Yes!" Izzy replied. "You know the bracelet I made you? It's gone viral, and now everybody wants one! The only problem is I can't remember how I made it!"

"That shouldn't be a problem," Sunny said. "The beauty of arts and crafts is that no two objects are the same. If you just want the exact same thing as somebody else you go to the outlet, rather like that Princess Dress that seems to be all the rage right now." She paused. "Anyway, my point is that you should let your own creativity inspire you. Sure, giving the people what they want is good and all, but at the end of the day creative arts is a personal endeavour."

"Indeed!" Pipp called, who had somehow materialised next to them. "You're overthinking it, Izzy. There's no need to create something totally new every single time. Instead, you take what you've already done and make a variation on it. Rather like the music industry."

"Really?" Izzy asked.

"Yep. Most pop songs are the same beat and chord sequence with some new lyrics on top. Somebody once wrote a song demonstrating this fact, it's seriously funny."

"Ooh."

Pipp then decided to self demonstrate with one of her songs.

"First thing's first, you gotta look for the spark/
That bit of magic way deep down in your heart!
It's the rhythm that connects us, when you find it/
Yeah now that's a great start (start, start, start)
Hey!

"You gotta follow your beat/ (beat, beat)
And then soon you will see! (see, see)
You won't have that far to go/
Until your song starts to grow/
All you need is your beat!" (your beat, your beat)

All you need is your beat/ (beat)
Hey, come on!
To get them stomping their feet! (feet!)
And then the next thing you'll know/
Imagination will flow/
All you need is your beat/
All you need is your beat! (beat)
Woo!
(All you need is your beat)
Ba-da-da, ba-da-da!
All you need is your beat/
Ba-da-da, ba-da-da!"

"Awesome!" Izzy called.

"So, you know what you need to do?" Pipp asked.

"Yes indeedally!" Izzy replied. "But first I will need to collect some supplies. And for that I need to find Porter!" She dashed off into the distance, looking for the tank engine.

"I'll be on the seafront if you need me!" Pipp replied. "I find it helps me with writing songs."

Over at the shunting yards, Porter was digging into the lines of trucks. "Izzy, why are we pulling all of these out?" Porter asked.

"Because there's one super special specific one I'm looking for to allow me to be really creative!" Izzy replied.

Charles rolled his eyes. "You are aware we only finished cleaning that up last night, right? You are making an mess."

"Never mind! What we shall make will be bluer than the blue blob of Blobbington!"

Porter glanced to the side. "Sometimes it's just easier not to ask."

"Porter! Don't break the fourth wall! That's my job!" Izzy called.

Author's Note

Hello, everybody! Welcome back one and all! This setting is still rolling along, and we kickstart our new set of adventures with a two-parter, based on 'Izzy Does It' and the TTTE Episode 'The Way she Does It'.

There are quite a few popular culture jokes hidden in there for you to enjoy. Older fans of my work will probably spot the reference to Salty's Lighthouse, a Canadian TV show best known for redubbing large quantities of Tugs footage. The series also starred quite a few performers who would appear in FiM and TTTE. Generation 5 and AEG continues this trend by sharing quite a few VAs.

For those confused about Salty's remark about Englishmen living in Cornish houses, here's an explanation. Technically speaking, Cornwall is in England, and thus all Cornishmen are Englishmen in the eyes of the law. However, in Cornish parlance the word 'Englishman' is usually used to refer to somebody who mostly lives outside the county.

The Way she Does It, Part 2

Pipp sat on the seafront, looking closely at a notebook in her hand. She was trying a number of different musical ideas for her next song, keen to avoid simply bashing out the same thing over and over again.

"Hmm, maybe this one," she said to herself. She began humming something to herself, then stopped. "No, that sounds too much like Don't Stop Beliving. Maybe this one?" She started sketching out some new lyrics.

"There- is a place, where- No! That's California Girls!" She looked over the seafront in frustration. "Why can't I think of anything?"

Salty then rattled past, coming to a stop. "Hello Pipp!" he said. "You look unhappy."

"That's just it!" she said. "I'm trying to come up with a new idea, and nothing's coming to my head! What I've created so far sounds like existing songs!"

Salty noted this, and smiled. "Why not take inspiration from the sea? That's what the sailors of old did when they wrote the sea shanties."

Pipp's eyes lit up. "Sea shanties! That's it! I do an album of nautical themed music! Got any suggestions for a playlist?"

"How about 'Wellerman', 'The Last Shanty', and 'All for me Grog' as starting points?" Salty suggested.

"That's a bit problematic," Pipp admitted. "The last one, I meant. It'd hardly be appropriate for a singer with a large child audience to be promoting drinking."

"True. How about changing references to grog and beer to different smoothie types?"

Pipp scribbled something down. "And it's all for my smoothie. I'll need to adjust the word setting a bit, but that's a start. Thanks Salty!"

A loud crashing and banging suddenly started up from the yard. "Sounds as though Izzy's still at it," Salty said.

"I'd best make sure she's not making too much of a mess," Pipp said, and set off for the yard. When she arrived, she found it in a complete mess. Trucks were strewn in random sidings, and some were so poorly positioned as to make getting into some sidings borderline impossible.

"No!" Izzy cried in frustration. "That's not it! Why can't I think of anything?"

"You're still making a mess!" Porter interrupted. "Somebody is going to have to clean this up, and it's probably going to be me."

"You may have creative block," Pipp suggested. "This is a condition where an artist finds themselves unable to create content."

"Is it permanent?" Izzy asked.

"Not usually," Pipp replied. "But it can last for a while. I'd suggest doing something very different to your usual output to try and clear it."

"Is that what you do?"

"No, mainly as I've never had creative block."

"That's a lie!" Charles added. "You didn't write songs for months one time!"

Pipp, looking embarrassed, simply glanced to her phone, only to see her inbox on several social media apps was absolutely flooded with messages. All of them were asking when her next album was coming out.

And all were asking for the songs to be similar but different to previous ones.

To say things were awkward was an understatement.

Work on the seafront sidings had gotten slow, and Sunny had been able to park Salty up for a bit and sell some smoothies.

"Here you go!" she said, pushing one drink towards an excited customer. "One tutti frutti, coming right up!"

"Thank you Sunny!" she said, before taking a sip. "You haven't lost your touch!"

"No problem!" Sunny called. "Enjoy!" She glanced over to the yard. "I hope that mess in the yard is sorted out soon. How are we supposed to get things moving around here if the yards are blocked up?"

"Sunny!" Izzy called, suddenly popping up in her face.

"AHH!" Sunny recoiled and fell back onto a chair. "Izzy, please don't do that!"

"Do I look desparate?" Izzy asked.

"A bit?"

"That's because I'm super desperate and have no idea what I'm doing!" Izzy exclaimed.

A passer-by, the man in the fedora hat called Rob, nodded sagely. "You just summarised adulthood in one sentence."

Sunny nodded. "Is it the bracelets?"

"No! I'm trying to come up with something new and I have run out of ideas!"

Sunny sighed, and then smiled at her friend. "It could be worse. Nobody can create like you do. Your ability to use everyday objects to create the extraordinary is unmatched in this town. Why not try going back to your roots and finding inspiration there?"

Izzy's eyes lit up. "My roots! Thanks, Sunny!" With a wave, she sped off down the road.

"No problem."

Sunny was so focused on seeing Izzy off safely she didn't notice Misty leaving something on her stand.

Up at Truro, Alexandra was still sitting in the bay platform. She had been shooing people away from her interior ever since they had arrived. "I don't want muddy boots all over the floor!" she said. "Or on my upholstery, for that matter. It was very expensive."

Somebody else attempted to board, holding an ice cream. His friend had a beach ball in his hands, seemingly ready for a day at the sea.

"Not you two either!" she said. "Sticky ice cream and sand! Whatever would the performers think?"

Moments later, two men arrived, both dressed in matching suits. One was tall and thin. And the other was short and fat. "Excuse me?" said the thin one. "Is this the railmotor?"

"It most certainly is," Lord Haven told him. "Are you the entertainers?"

"We are indeed!" said the fat one. "Baz and Bernie, at your service."

"Well," Lord Haven said, "Get in, and we shall be on our way."

The two men boarded, and the signal changed. Alexandra set off at such speed that she was into the tunnel in less than a minute.

"Wait!" shouted the station master. "You're supposed to be taking a van with you!"

Misty's radio buzzed as she moved towards the yard. She switched it on. "Receiving you loud and clear, over."

"Took you long enough to switch the thing on," Opaline said. "I thought you'd gotten lost, like the time I rescued you. Anything to report?"

"Based on my observations, I think that the magic is somehow connected to Falmouth."

"And the Nobel Peace Prize for stating the blindingly obvious goes to Misty," Opaline sighed. "Don't think, be certain. You sound like an idiot otherwise."

"Well, I think me and Bellerophon could-"

"Bellerophon and I."

"Well, I think Bellerophon and I could figure it out if we could somehow get closer to Sunny."

"An interesting observation," Opaline sighed. "Be on standby for my instructions. And has Boomer turned up yet?"

"I haven't been able to find him, but-"

"Oi, you over there!" shouted a yard worker. "Get off the radio and take Bellerophon up to Truro. The railmotor's left a van behind that needs conveying to Falmouth."

"Sorry, gotta go." Misty turned the radio off and sprinted for the engine shed, where Bellerophon was waiting.

As Bellerophon left the yard for Truro, Charles and Salty had gotten to work on cleaning up the mess in the yard. "How does one person make so much mess?" Salty asked.

"Beats me," Charles replied. "We could do with an extra engine."

"Hello chaps!" said a voice. Moments later, Ray arrived in the yard with Pipp at the controls.

"Oh dear," Charles sighed. "Captain OCD's here. Here to file couplings?"

"Uhh, Pipp, what are you doing driving mom's engine?" Zipp asked.

"Sophie broke down, so mom let me borrow Ray," Pipp explained.

"Let's get to work then."

Alexandra arrived at Falmouth to see the chaos unfolding in the docks. The two men got out and looked behind them in surprise.

"Bernie, where are the children?" Baz asked.

"More to the point," Bernie added, "where are the props? We had them all in a van!"

"Children's entertainers?" Alexandra said. "Robert, why didn't you tell me they were children's entertainers?!"

"Does it really matter what type of entertainer they are?" Lord Haven replied. "You assumed they were something else, all by yourself."

A bus pulled up in the station parking lot as another argument broke out in the yard.

"Would you believe it?" Charles huffed, as he observed the other engines whilst propelling some plank wagons. "Ray's done nothing but file vans away in those sidings."

"And there goes the diagram 3 vans which-"

"RAY!" Charles boomed. "STOP FILING!"

"No," Ray said, "this is important. If we don't have this place logically ordered it's just to end up a gigantic mess again. And which types of vans go where is quite important, as-"

"It doesn't matter! Vans are vans!"

"No they aren't. There's vans with metal roofs, vans with sliding doors, ones designed to carry fish, ones meant to carry bananas, ones that are fitted, ones without fitted brakes, ones with..."

Charles tuned Ray out as he rambled on about different types of vans. "We're going to be here forever."

"Only because you won't order them logically," Ray interrupted. "If you just bung them in any old way like a yobbo we'll have a harder time locating the stuff we need."

"Can we stop arguing and start sorting?" Sunny asked.

Bellerophon rolled into the platforms with a van. "Sorry I'm late, folks!" he said. "Just brought the van in."

"Excellent!" Baz said. "Now we can build our stage, and perform to the children."

Alexandra said nothing. Her face had gone beetroot. This entire mess with the staging and the lack of audience was her fault. And all because she had jumped to conclusions.

No sooner had that happened then Porter sped past, with a load fitted to a flatbed. "Can't stop! Got a delivery to make!"

"Whatever in the world is going on?" Misty asked. "I must keep a closer eye on this."

Porter screeched to a halt as the last trucks were being put away, parking next to one of the harbour cranes.

Izzy secured him in place and walked over to the yard. "Hey guys! Did I miss anything?"

"Only us cleaning up your mess," Charles grumbled.

"Charles, enough," Zipp said. "So, where'd you go?"

"Sunny suggested I go back to my roots, so I headed north and eventually found something on my way. I fixed it up, and it's currently being offloaded from that flatbed."

When the crane was finished, Izzy walked over and opened the tarpaulin. It revealed a tricycle moped, painted blue, with a large box on the back.

"Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour!" Izzy called. "Behold, my portable palace of personal productivity! My tireless treasures! My wagon of whimsy! My Trycicle of Triumph! The Powered Perambulator of Peregrination!"

"She has swallowed a thesaurus!" Ray joked.

"And not only that, I made a utility belt for myself in case I need to do repairs on the go," Izzy continued. "Oil, lubricant, spanners, a wrench, some tools, and a sleeping bag for on the move. Or even on the stay."

"That would have come in handy on our first adventure," Sunny said. "By the way, thanks for the compact Pipp!"

"Which compact?" Pipp asked.

"The one you left on my stand. Looks great, and even seems to have a camera in it. Shall we try it out?"

"Oh, that one! Totally forgot buying it, yeah!"

Zipp looked at a notepad in her hand. "Pipp forgot something she bought? That's odd."

The gang turned about for a group photo, with the engines in the background.

"So, this is what we are up against," Opaline said, as she observed the video feed. "They are in no way a match for the Reverend. I would probably already have beaten them if it weren't for the blithering idiots under my command."

Suddenly, the feed cut out. "NO! Why did it stop?"

"I have reason to believe that the signal is exceptionally poor near the lighthouse," Boomer said over the radio. "I'm observing it now, and they've just gone inside. It's well known that magic can interfere with communication devices, so perhaps the source of the magic is there."

"Keep me notified of any future developments," Opaline replied. "We need to get somebody on the inside..."

After a long, hard day, the five friends had finally found time to mark Sunny's birthday.

"Thanks guys!" Sunny smiled. "This is the first time I've had you guys here, and this is the best birthday I've had in years. Shame mom and dad couldn't be here, but they had something important to attend to."

Pipp sighed. "Sorry to be a moaner, but I feel a bit down."

"It's not something in the cake, is it?" Sunny asked. "It's an old Devonian recipe."

"No, the cake was delicious," Pipp replied. "It's just that I haven't figured out my new song."

Izzy smiled, and turned to a record player behind her. "Try it out!"

Pipp walked over and popped the needle on. Moments later, a familiar song began to play.

"Had my head in the clouds
But now I truly see!"

"It's a remix!"

"Cooked it up whilst having a tea break on my way home," Izzy said. "I even found some alternate lyrics you'd suggested by scrapped."

"Awesome!" Pipp said, and grabbed a microphone.

"Glowing hearts of the world's people
super lights beneath the trees!

"We're not just one/ (not one, not one)
It's you and me! (it's you and me)
People livin' large in unity-ty-ty-ty!
All you need is your beat!"

Author's Note

Plenty of extra references to find in here to a number of different properties, including the Beatles, Top Gear, and even earlier generations of MLP. Have fun finding them!

As for Argyle and Goldie... well, wait for a future chapter to find out what they were up to.

Porter and the Dinosaur

Exciting times were approaching on the Falmouth Branch. Owing to a surge in tourism thanks to the extensive collection of Non-Faceless Vehicles in the region, plenty of money now flowed into the towns and villages of the area. As such the local council was opening a new pleasure park near Penmere, the first station down the line from Falmouth.

Owing to the bad roads, the decision had been made to move most of the required materials by rail, and naturally the local engines had been volunteered for the task. Not that they minded, of course. It was nice to get good long runs in with unusual loads.

One morning, Porter was sat at the back of a long train, that had been brought there by Charles and Sophie owing to the weight. Things had run slow, and unloading was taking longer than expected.

"Hurry up!" Porter called. "We've got stuff to unload too, and you're blocking the points with your cargo!"

Up at the front of the train, Sophie rolled her eyes. "This impatience is rather annoying," she said. "These workmen can only work as fast as their legs can carry them, and rushing them could result in things being damaged."

"Though I don't understand why they need to stop for a health and safety lecture every five minutes," Charles admitted. "Do they really need one in order to pick up a plank of wood?"

"Beats me," Pipp said, checking her social media as she waited. "Ooh! Look at this! The song I recorded to advertise Mane Melody is blowing up on YouTube. And we've even got rave reviews on TripAdvisor!" She squealed in delight.

Zipp, who was standing on the platform whilst the workmen were unloading the trucks, glanced over. "Which one was that?"

"TripAdvisor. It's like Rotten Tomatoes, but for tourism and less prone to vote brigading."

"I know what TripAdvisor is, Pipp. I meant the song. You seem to pump new music out faster than most Hip Hop artists."

"Gotta keep up variety," Pipp smiled. "Oh, good! They've moved onto one of the last vans. Now we can reshuffle this lot and start again."

After about an hour of shuffling wagons and vans, the cargo was safely offloaded, and Porter was able to pull into the siding. "They could do with adding more sidings here. Look at how long we were held in the queue! That is seriously inneficient."

"It could have been worse," Izzy said. "Some lines are known for constant traffic jams."

"It feels as though I'm on one of them."

Suddenly, a workman walked over to them. "Hello you two! The central ornament for the park has just arrived. It's being moved in sections owing to the size and weight, and we'd like you to bring it down here. It's just arrived at Truro, so you should have a clear run to pick it up."

Once Charles and Sophie had finished reshuffling the empties and had started on back down to Falmouth, Porter and Izzy set off up the line. The birds sang as they made their passage, and the sun continued to gleam in the sky as they meandered up and down hills.

At last they reached Truro, and after waiting for the signals to change they moved into the yard. The train they were to collect consisted of several low loader wagons, with two brakevans at either end.

"When they said they'd split it up into pieces, I didn't realise they meant more than twenty," Porter said.

"That's a good point," Izzy said, looking closely. "How are we going to get all of this up the hill, and more importantly down again?"

Another workman walked over to them. "I was expecting a larger engine, but you'll have to do. We need you to take these to Penmere. Before you set off, remember to apply the brake blocks on all wagons. That should give you more control on the gradients."

"Understood!" Izzy smiled, and saluted him.

"I left the army years ago," the workman said, slightly confused.

Izzy walked along the train, applying the brakes on each and every wagon. As there were twenty, this took a while.

"We may struggle to get this lot going on the grade," she conceeded, as she got back into the cab. "We may have to go quite fast. But hey. How hard can it be?"

"Don't say that!" Porter exclaimed, as they began to back up.

The run, indeed, proved to be quite hard. The weight combined with the brake blocks meant that Porter had to be banked out of Falmouth by a diesel, whose roaring engine made it very hard to figure out what anybody else was saying. But at last, they reached the top. The top of the grade is immediately followed by a tunnel, which makes running the other way an absolute nightmare for heavy trains. Smoke buildup remained a problem, even with the ventilation systems installed in the tunnel.

Once the diesel had detached and headed away, Porter began the descent down into the tunnel. The gradient increased to 1 in 100 once he entered the tunnel, and speed began to climb almost immediately. Out of the tunnel it got even worse, as the gradient went up to a nauseating 1 in 60.

Porter's speed rose uncontrollably. "I can't hold the weight back, even with all the brake blocks on!" he called.

Izzy was concerned as well. "We seem to be going a bit fast," she conceeded. "But there's a steep hill coming up!"

"WHAT IF WE DERAIL BEFORE IT?"

Porter had a good point. They rocketed through Perranwell at over sixty miles an hour, astonished they managed to hold the bend. The track then became level for a short while before beginning to climb again, and Izzy had been banking on this to slow them down.

Their speed gradually got slower, and slower, and slower, until at last they stopped on the hill.

"See? Told you this would work!"

Unfortunately, they then began to roll back down the hill the other way.

"Looks like I spoke too soon."

They reached the bottom of the hill doing close to fifty miles an hour, just going the other way. Izzy decided to get the attention of the signalman at Perranwell by using Porter's whistle.

The signalman consulted the track diagram. He threw several switches, and routed the out of control train off the main line and into a freight siding.

Izzy had climbed out of the cab and walked along the running board as though she were a cowboy in a western. Eventually she reached the coupling and pulled it free, separating Porter from the trucks. She then dived back into the cab and applied the brakes.

The trucks and the two brakevans were not so lucky. They rolled into the siding and crashed through the buffers, falling down a steep hill and smashing into the valley velow. Large white fragments bounced all over the place and broke apart from the force of the impact.

Mercifully, nobody was hurt. But the cargo was ruined.

A few minutes later, help arrived to try and clean up the mess. Izzy sat on a bench on the platform, looking miserable.

"What's wrong, Izzy?" Pipp asked, putting her arm around her shoulder. "You're looking pretty blue."

"I know, I let you all down," Izzy replied. "Now the park can never be completed as the centrepiece is in bits down there."

"Oh Izz, the accident wasn't your fault," Pipp reassured. "The inspector said that the brake blocks were faulty, and those trucks should never have been allowed out on the rails. Your name is clean as far as they're concerned. Besides, they can get another statue... but we can never find another you."

Izzy smiled. "Aww, thanks."

"When's the wedding?" Porter asked, sarcastically.

One of the workers then came up from the crash site. "The statue isn't a complete loss," he said. "It's broken into pieces, rather like a fossil. So we've decided we'll exhibit it on the rockface at the back of the park as a recently unearthed fossil, and put something else where the statue was meant to go."

A few weeks later, the park opened, and it was very well received indeed. But what came as the biggest surprise of all was what was standing in the centre of the park.

"It's you and Porter!" Sunny pointed out to Izzy.

Izzy looked down and read the inscription. "The people of Penmere and the Maritime Line hereby thank Izzy Moonbow and Porter, whose quick thinking prevented a nasty accident."

She glanced to the wall, to see the remnants of the dinosaur statue embedded in the rocks. "You know, for an accident this all seems to have worked out remarkably well."

Author's Note

This particular chapter, despite the title, is actually inspired by 'The Runaway Elephant', an episode of the 7th Season of TTTE. The plot has also been reworked a bit (partially as the original story had a few plot holes).

Funnily enough, Maretime Bay actually does have a TripAdvisor page. It was put together as part of a promotional campaign between Hasbro and TripAdvisor. Astonishingly, the page is fully functional and has reviews of several businesses. I'll be sure to consult it when I take a holidy to post-Reunification Equestria. Link is here: https://www.tripadvisor.com/InfoCenter-a_ctr.MyLittlePony_MaretimeBay

Rebecca, Bellerophon, and the Fruitful Day

Once again it was a truly splendid day in Cornwall, as the sun shone and things seemed to be fine and dandy. Rebecca was heading up the Maritime Line to Truro on a test run. She had been having some mechanical issues recently, and as such had been fitted with some new parts to check she was running correctly.

"Oh my!" she said. "What lovely countryside around here! I can see why the others like it so much."

"It's my homeland too, you know," Hitch added, as they glided through Penrhyn. "Not far to Truro now. So far, all seems to be holding up. It should do. You're effectively a new engine with all the bits we've swapped!"

Rebecca's bright green and yellow paint gleamed in the sunlight as she made her way up the hill next to the tunnel. She coasted down onto the final straight before being brought to a stop at a red signal just outside Penwithers Junction. To her left was the branch down to Newham, which was being relayed in order to help cope with the amount of increased business in the region.

Sure enough, she saw Bellerophon emerge from the branch, pulling a short train of vans. Misty was at the controls, looking as awkward as usual.

"Good morning!" Rebecca called. "Everything OK? I thought you were meant to depart a few minutes ago!"

"Had some loading that went long, and some poorly behaved vans," Bellerophon replied. "You going down there?"

"That's where orders are telling us to go," Hitch said. "We'll have to wait for a mainline train to clear before we can reverse into the harbour branch."

"Be careful with the trucks," Misty warned him. "I think they're up to something, and it's probably not good."

The duo set off with their train, which left Rebecca alone as she waited for the incoming train. Eventually, it passed by, and the signal dropped. Rebecca steamed forward into the station, reversed onto the other line, stopped again at another set of points, and then steamed down the branch and to Newham Harbour.

Newham Harbour, although small, was very busy. Ships were docking from several places and offloading cargoes of fruit and vegatables from across both Britain and the world. They were delivered in boxes and cartons, and loaded into several different types of vans. There were big vans, small vans, vans with different roofs, vans with holes for ice blocks to be inserted, and some which had yellow spots on the side.

"I wonder what those spots denote?" Hitch asked.

"Those are banana vans," Rebecca explained. "They're fitted with steam heating pipes to allow the bananas to be ripened whilst the train is on the move."

"Clever," Hitch said. "Maybe Sunny could try something similar for her smoothies."

"I thought smoothies were supposed to be consumed cold."

"No, not that. She did use green bananas once, which produced... interesting results."

Men set about putting the boxes into place, securing them with ropes and ties to hold them in place and prevent them from sliding about. At last the work was done, and the train was cleared to go. The last door banged, and the guard showed a green light. The Galloping Fruitcake was ready to go!

Rebecca's wheels dug into the rails as she set off up the line. Hitch was a lot more gentle with the regulator this time, and the engine rumbled up the line. The gradients weren't too bad on the engine, and it wasn't long before she made it to Perranwell, where Charles was waiting with another goods train.

"Morning Charles!" she called. "Can't stop! Have places to be, you know!"

"Well, of course!" Charles replied, as the last of the wagons rattled by. "Did you hear what sounded like leaking?"

"Hopefully her oil bath isn't leaking again," Zipp noted, as she opened the throttle. "That was a nightmare to fix."

Down at Penmere, Bellerophon was finishing putting the vans into the siding when a workman arrived. "Hello you two!" he said.

"Hi!" Misty replied, sticking her head out of the cab. "Want some tea?"

"I don't have time, sadly," the workman replied. "There's been a bit of a problem up at Penrhyn. Rebecca has failed and can't work the train. Can you go and collect her trucks?"

"On my way!" Bellerophon replied, and backed up the line. "After all, one good turn deserves another. She was part of the crew who dug us out of that snowstorm, after all."

When they arrived at Penrhyn, they found Rebecca sitting on a siding, wheeshing furiously.

"What happened?" Bellerophon asked.

"My lubricators have malfunctioned," Rebecca replied. "No oil is lubricating key parts, so it's not safe for me to run. I'll need fixing here."

Misty nodded. "It seems as though you two are in a bit of a jam. You could call it a sticky situation!"

Hitch leaned out of Rebecca's cab. "In case you've forgotten, there are trucks that need delivering to Falmouth. So perhaps make fewer bad puns and move the trucks?"

"Oh!" Misty replied. "Right! I was definitely gonna do that." With a blast of steam Bellerophon moved back and touched the trucks with a bang.

"Careful!" called the station master. "There's valuable cargo onboard those!"

"Understood!" Bellerophon said. Before long he was hooked up, and they were on their way.

Down the line, Sunny checked her watch. Her fruit delivery was late, and she had heard there was trouble down the line. "I hope it gets here quickly! I've got a backlog of orders to clear, and I understocked!"

Bellerophon was approaching, but was so focused on getting there quickly that he didn't pay attention to the signals. He was soon routed off the expected line and into the bay platform! "Brakes, Misty!" he called. "Sunny hasn't cleared the platform!"

Misty slammed on the brakes, but they did not good. Bellerophon slammed into the buffers and the wagons crashed into him. The roof hatched and doors burst open, and fruit flew out in all directions. Apples, bananas, tomatoes, and strawberries rained down upon the seaside town like missiles.

Virtually everything was covered in fruit in a 10 yard radius. There was fruit on the roof. There was fruit all over the platform. There was fruit on several buildings. There was fruit all over most people.

The only place there wasn't fruit was the vans, where there should have been.

"My bananas!"

Sunny staggered over to the crash scene, splattered from head to toe in stuff. "Misty! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Misty replied, "but the town's a mess. And you look like a smoothie!"

Sunny laughed. "It's OK. What matters is you're safe. But I must admit that when I hoped my fruit would arrive quickly, that wasn't quite what I had in mind." She licked some strawberry goo off her face. "Maybe I should consider a sideline in jam production."

That evening, Misty and the others had gathered at the Fisherman's Arms to wind down. "I think," Pipp said, "that we've all learned an important lesson from today. No matter what we do, it's possible for us to end up in a 'jam' in more ways than one. But even when friends help others, it can still result in further problems."

"Your point being?" Hitch asked.

"My point being that we all learned something from that experience. And in doing so we've all helped the community."

"That and scrubbing down all the buildings covered in goo," Misty added.

The table sounded to merriment and laughter as the six friends were, happily, able to see the funny side of the days events. And there is no better way to face the challenges of life than with your friends by your side.

Author's Note

'James, Percy, and the Fruitful Day', whilst not a particularly realistic episode, is fondly remembered by the fanbase partly due to its inventive use of practical effects and spawning the 'I do not run a jam factory' meme that overtook the fandom around 2011.

Growing Pains

One morning, it was morning, as morning's are known to be from time to time. Hitch was setting out into town and keeping a close eye on goings on as he went on his way.

"So far, so good," he said, as he pencilled something into his diary. "Nothing untoward happening at the moment."

Once he was done writing he continued on his way down the street, keeping to the pavement in order to avoid getting hit by a tram. This was wise, as Fraser rolled by a few moments later, loaded with passengers travelling down from the housing establishment out of town.

"Morning!" the tram called. "It was a bare bricht moonlit nicht last night!"

"What?" Hitch asked. "I have no idea what he said." Hitch continued on his way through town, keeping a close eye on what was going on.

But as was normal at this time of day the place seemed pretty quiet. He smiled as he reached the end of the street. "I think I can safely say that nothing can go wrong."

He stepped around the bend and sighed. "Looks like I spoke too soon."

The lines that access the yards and the dockyard both run over a public highway, which is protected from the trains by crossing barriers installed following the Porter incident earlier that year. Unfortunately, the level of traffic on some days meant that cars could be waiting a while, and this seemed to be happening today.

Ray moved incredibly slowly across the road, with a large flatbed in front of him. Attached to this flatbed was a heavy load.

The motorists were getting very cross, and honked their horns impatiently.

"Hurry up!" shouted one driver. "It never used to be this long of a wait!"

Another driver then joined in, but the words he used were of such vulgarity I will not be giving him the liberty of being transcribed here. Needless to say, it provoked Ray.

"This load is very heavy and needs moving carefully!" he said. "This is going to the house up the road that's being renovated."

"Of course, Lady Haven's pet project," the first driver grumbled. "We all have to sit here and wait whilst she brings our town to a standstill and has large amounts of stuff delivered. Typical English."

"If you don't do something about this, Hitch," said one driver, "we will never do business in Falmouth again!"

This put Hitch in an awkward position. But it was then he spotted a loophole in her instructions. "Sure thing. Goodbye!"

Later that day, a meeting had convened outside the town council building, and Hitch was standing before a podium. "Concerned citizens of Falmouth," he said. "I am aware that our lives have changed rather substancially since the magic returned."

"I'll say," somebody said.

"And that the new rail improvements have caused some traffic problems. Obviously, the flow of road vehicles through town needs to be maintained, but at the same time the dockside is dependant on rail access to keep goods moving. As a town, we need both and need to balance our two ways of life."

"So, what's the plan?" Argyle asked from the crowd. "I hope it's not a blanket ban on railway usage."

"Not at all!" Hitch said. "My proposal to the town council is that we have certain parts of the day for each. Ships tends to dock in the early morning and leave in the evening. To this end, I propose that between Six in the morning and Six in the evening, rail movements into and out of the yards and the docks are prohibited. However, engines that have already crossed the threshold into the yard may continue working there, as the yard itself does not block the road."

"It's not a perfect solution, but it's a start," said Misty, who was somewhere at the back.

As the crowd dispersed, Sunny walked forward and spoke to Hitch. "I understand the importance for quick action, and I understand your thought process," she said.

"That's a first," Hitch sighed.

"But there are serious flaws in your proposal. I thought you said you wouldn't do anything drastic!"

"No, that's not what I said. I said I would think it over. I have thought it over, and that is my answer. If we don't do something then these traffic problems are only going to get worse. People will get annoyed and skip town, and that will be bad for businesses in the town."

Sunny rolled her eyes. "Firstly, ships are dependant on the tidal conditions in the area, as some are too big to come in at low tide. For example, high tide can be as early as 9 in the morning, which is within your travel ban. That would mean a bigger ship like some of the larger trawlers would only be able to dock then and offload their cargo."

"Then they wait until the evening to move their cargo out," Hitch replied. "See? Easy."

"What if they're carrying perishables that need quick transportation? A good example is seafood, which is dropped off by those trawlers I mentioned earlier."

Hitch sighed. "That's not my issue. What we need is a workable compromise that allows both parties to be happy until we come up with a better solution. And if some fish goes mouldy in the meantime, so be it."

Zipp had been trailing them on her way to the shed, and decided to voice her opinion. "Hitch, it may be too early to bring these measures in. What if we make an error now that causes harm down the line?"

Hitch shrugged. "I care about the Non-Faceless Vehicles as much as you do, and the rail network has helped regenerate a lot of the old town area. But if we are going to survive in this new world we need to find ways to work together."

Argyle had caught up to them, and decided to voice his opinion. "How about we trial this new proposal tomorrow and see how it goes before coming to any conclusions?"

"Fine by me," the three younger people said.

The very next day, the new schedule went into operation. At Six in the morning, gates on either side of the road were bolted shut, and whichever side of the fence the engines were on was where they stayed for the day. Porter had been moved over the road in advance to shunt the dockyard, whilst Sophie had been assigned to the main goods yard for shunting.

It didn't take long for them to run into problems. Sophie backed into the gate as she tried to access another siding. "This was not thought through," she said.

Pipp got out and took a look. "Whomever put these gates in didn't measure the engines beforehand," she said. "The headshunt is too small for us to move properly in and out of the yard. Which will make shunting most of the yard impossible. Que horror!"

Porter was having a related problem down below. "What's that smell?" he asked.

"That's fish," Izzy said, as she brought him to a halt on the dockside. "Fish and chips is very popular around here."

"I don't like fish."

"Well, that's handy given you run on coal and water. Wouldn't want to get one of those wriggly things in your tanks, eh?" Izzy laughed at her own joke. "But wait! If not transported quickly it can go off, and we don't have any way to power the refridgeration equipment on the vans!"

By lunchtime, the entire town was subjected to the horrific smell of fish rotting on the dockside. It was so awful that sales of air fresheners surged by 300%. And the cars continued to sail by as they drove past the yard, much to the annoyance of others.

"We can't get the goods they need out, and they can't get the coal and water we need in!" Porter said. "This is ridiculous!"

"I think this plan wasn't properly thought through."

Eventually, another meeting of the friends was convened to try and sort out the problem. "I'll be the first to admit that the proposal hasn't quite worked as planned," Hitch said.

"You don't say," Sunny added, her voice dripping with so much sarcasm you could have cut it with a knife and spread it on toast.

"But we cannot give up. My thinking is to perhaps move the fences back a few feet to give the engines more space to shunt."

"That still doesn't fix the problem of priority traffic being unable to get in and out," Zipp pointed out. "Like the fish which is currently turning the town into the Great Stink."

"In which case, locomotives operating priority workings will have special badges attached to the running board," Hitch proposed. "These engines are permitted to work across the road outside of normal hours."

"Isn't that basically the same as the arrangement we have before?" Pipp asked.

"Yes," Sunny sighed. "You see, Hitch, your 'solution' has only made the mess worse!"

Hitch held his head in his hands. "I've overdone it," he said. "We need to come up with something a bit more flexible, and that suits the needs of everybody."

Suddenly, there were vibrations from upstairs, where the crystals were housed in the former lighthouse lense room. "What was that?" Zipp asked.

"We should take a look!" Izzy said, and sprinted for the lift.

Getting to the top floor took several minutes as the lift could only carry one person at a time. When they arrived at the top, they discovered a mysterious rainbow energy bathing the room in prismatic light.

And floating above it all was a projection of an older gentleman, with white hair and a pair of large black glasses sitting over his eyes. He was wearing a grey suit with a blue shirt and dark blue tie, and looked very serious.

"Who's the old dude?" Pipp asked.

Sunny looked on in awe. "No. Way."

The man began to speak. "If you are receiving this message, then the magic that dwells within all engines and vehicles has been succesfully reactivated, and is stronger than before. Our world is alive, and the forces that power it are ever changing. But be wary, as there are those out there who would spoil it for everybody else, and would use the magic's incredible power for evil. Once, somebody tried to steal the power and conquer these lands with an army of-"

Unfortunately, the tape seemed to be damaged, as several parts of the message were impossible to understand. These have been transcribed with the word [STATIC].

"And if she had succeeded, our world would have fallen. Myself and the others did all that we could to protect [STATIC] from [STATIC], but we were left with no choice but to split the crystals that powered it up. But now the crystals are back together, and you must be on your guard. You must protect the [STATIC] from [STATIC], or else the-"

This was then followed by a long burst of static which left the sentence impossible to understand.

"I am with you, always. Best of luck." And suddenly, the message vanished.

"What was that about?" Zipp asked.

Sunny turned to the others. "If that's who I think it was, we have a very important task."

"And who was it?" Pipp enquired.

Sunny grabbed a book from the bookcase and flipped through it. "It's who I thought it was. The chronicler of Sodor, and one of the Guardians. The Reverend Wilbert Awdry."

"Who?"

"Back in the day, he, Teddy Boston, and Eric Treacy meticulously mapped the Island of Sodor and its railways, and published tales from the island in the books that eventually made it to publication. I guess we now know why Non-Faceless Vehicles began to disappear. But what was this threat he was talking about? Who tried to steal the magic?"

"And who's going to deal with the growing traffic jam out there?" Izzy asked.

"Alright then," Hitch said. "It's time to reverse action. I know I said I wouldn't but old me doesn't know what current me knows now. It's time-"

"Who are you talking to?" Pipp asked, looking confused.

Eventually, a new proposal was submitted to the council. This called for the construction of a ring road to go around the town for traffic that was trying to get to other places and wanted to avoid crossing the railway. This would only mean that town traffic was passing through the area, reducing traffic volumes.

The engines liked this too, as it meant the barriers could be removed and normal operations could resume.

And so, dear readers, sometimes all it takes to solve big problems is working together, and using a little bit of common sense.

Author's Note

This story is a mixture of the MLP episode of the same name and my personal experiences with town traffic, specifically in towns which are bisected by railway lines. Traffic management of this type has become such a problem that some settlements have resorted to constructing bridges over or tunnels under railway lines, thus avoiding the need for level crossings.

And yes, I did go there and incorporate the Thin Clergyman into my stories.

Ballast Bother

Railways must always be ready to adapt to any weather conditions, no matter how suddenly they arrive. In autumn, the usual threat is from leaves. In winter, it used to be snow, but increasingly the main problem is rain. In spring, all sorts of things crop up, such as animals that don't understand the concept of level crossings or fences.

But this spring, well... things were 'hotting up', if you know what I mean. Porter and Izzy certainly knew this one well, as they were currently fighting a fire. A hosepipe had been attached to Porter's tanks, and Izzy was directing the jet at a lineside fire.

"Why are there so many fires?" Izzy said, as she held the jet on the blaze.

"It's all this dry weather we've been having," Porter replied. "There's been no rain for ages, and it's unusually warm for this time of year. Combine that with sparks and ash from our chimneys and there's lots of fires."

"Yikes. Hopefully the diesels won't have this much trouble."

After a few minutes, the fire was put out, and the duo began on their way up to Newham. But just as they reached the points at Penwithers Junction, they began rolling up and down like a ship on choppy waves.

"HeEy!" Izzy said. "ThIs MaKeS mY vOiCe SoUnD sIlLy!"

"Never mind your silly voice!" Porter replied. "The track has warped in the heat! It's not safe to run on this line!"

"We probably need to tell the maintenance crew at Truro and get it fixed!" Izzy said. "I'll get down there right away!"

"But what about our trucks?"

Down at Falmouth, Argyle was overlooking the yards, trying to see if anybody could find his supplies. The weather was taking its toll on him. Sweat was dripping off his forehead and collecting in his beard, and his clothing didn't help.

"If this weather gets any worse my clothes will go see through," he complained, as he wandered into town in search of a drink. "Hopefully somewhere's serving something cold."

As he stumbled on his way, he passed Sunny's stand. "Hey Sunny. Coping with the heat?"

"I think so," Sunny replied. "I set up in some shade today, and left my hoodie at home. Shorts and a white shirt also worked. Why don't you try the same dad?"

Argyle thought for a moment. "That's not a bad idea, actually. And maybe have a milkshake whilst I'm at it. How's the new machine working for you?"

"Excellently," Sunny smiled. "It runs very well, and the customers seem to like it. They seem to be especially taken with the blue flavour."

"How much does one cost?"

"Dad, I don't really feel I can charge you, seeing as... well..."

"Just because I'm your father doesn't mean I get preferential treatment."

Sunny nodded. "£3.50."

"That's reasonable."

After having gotten changed and headed back to the yard, Argyle was feeling a lot better- although he could have done without fogged up glasses. As he looked into the yard, he could see Rebecca being backed onto a ballast train. The new quarry down near his home was certainly producing plenty of ballast for the local railway lines, and not only that was keeping people employed.

"Hello Rebecca!" he called. "Where's that lot going?"

"Ballast going to Truro Yard. From there to where I don't know," Rebecca replied. "Should be an easy run."

"For you, maybe," Hitch said, having stuck his head out of the cab in the meantime. "But this is heavier than most loads I've worked."

"This is light compared to what used to be shifted out of Meldon Quarry back in the day."

Just then, the light changed. "Gotta go!" Hitch called, and with that the train set off for the mainline.

Argyle stroked his beard. "Mainline, eh? Maybe a bit of trainspotting is in order."

Rebecca soon discovered that the ballast trucks she was working were rather more tempramental than most.

"Pull back, me hearties! Pull back!" shouted one.

There was a tremendous jerk on the couplings as this happened.

"What's going on?" Hitch said, as he tried to make adjustments.

"These trucks are up to tricks," Rebecca sighed. "I'll need to make some changes to their attitude."

As they reached the first drop, Hitch applied the brakes. It was then he had a brainwave as they began to descend. "I know! Back in the old days, my parents found a very effective way to keep animals in line was with music. Maybe we could try something similar?"

"And Salty taught me a new song only yesterday! Here we go!" Rebecca seemed to be in exceptionally fine voice. "Now then, you trucks seem very lively. Fancy a sea shanty?"

"Yes! Yes!" the trucks replied.

"Oh Santiana gained the day!" Rebecca called.

"Away Santianna!" the trucks replied.

"Now pull the yan up the west they say!" Rebecca called.

"Along the plains of Mexico!" the trucks replied.

"Now the chorus!" Hitch called.

"Well heave her up and away we'll go/
Away Santiana!
Heave her up and away we'll go/
Along the plains of Mexico!"

This seemed to work. The trucks stopped bumping the duo, and the singing helped to keep the movement of the train in line.

Rebecca rattled down the final hill towards Truro. "Almost there, and nothing went wrong!" she said.

Unfortunately, she was wrong. She hit the section of bumpy track that had warped in the heat, and bounced back and forth as she rattled over it.

"Hey! What is this? I didn't sign up for a rollercoaster!" Hitch said.

Rebecca managed to stay on the rails, but the trucks behind her were not so lucky. Several of them bounced up and down and sent their cargo of gravel flying through the air. Several others derailed and fell onto their side, spilling their cargoes over the main line from Penzance.

The worst was yet to come. Sparks from Rebecca's chimney ignited dry vegetation nearby, causing a fire.

Argyle had taken up position to do some spotting when he had witnessed the entire accident. His immediate response was to get on the phone.

"Operator here, how can I help you?"

"Connect me to the fire brigade, and pronto!" Argyle replied.

"Understood sir, transferring you now."

There was some brief beeping, before the dial tone ended and the call connected. "Truro Fire Brigade, what seems to be the issue?"

"A large fire has just broken out near Truro station, where the line from Falmouth joins. You may also need some rescue vehicles, as there's a derailed train nearby,"

"Understood sir. Dispatching appliances now."

Rebecca and Hitch had already gotten to work moving the undamaged stock away from the fire, and the fire brigade were on scene within a few minutes. Before long, the fire was out, and cranes were busy lifting the damaged stock back onto the rails.

"Sorry about causing the accident," Rebecca said to a firefighter.

"You're not to blame," the firefighter replied. "It's this heatwave we're having. The track over there always buckles and bends in this weather, and we have to respond to a lot of fires in this weather."

"Now," said a railway worker, "if only there was a way to cool the track down. We can't spray it with water as that will cause the metal to warp. The solution is ensuring it doesn't get hot in future."

Suddenly, something Sunny had mentioned returned to Argyle. "Why not paint the track white?" he suggested. "That way, the track heats up slower."

"What a good idea!" said the firefighter.

Once the rails were replaced, they were coated with white paint to reflect the heat. Safe to say, they don't get as hot anymore!

Author's Note

This story is based on two TTTE episodes. Namely, 'Chucklesome Trucks' from Season 22 and 'Buckled Tracks and Bumpy Trucks' from Season 20. Whilst watching them back to back does clearly demonstrate the dramatic decline in quality the show had in two seasons, blending elements from the Brennersance and Bwuhba eras proved to be easier than I had thought.

The sea shanty that Rebecca sings is another authentic one. A British song about Mexican General Lopez de Santa Ana, the oldest known version dates from the 1850s. It is worth noting the lyrics are not historically accurate; Santa Ana is described as winning the battle of Monterrey, which in reality was an American victory.

Hoist up the Thing! Bat down the Whatsit!

For once, it wasn't a glorious sunny morning in Falmouth. Indeed, the sky was a rather dull shade of grey, with clouds lazily drifting by and the odd spot of rain. The west coast of Britain tends to receive the bulk of the country's precipitation, and as such tends to be wetter than other parts.

But down in town the plan was to open a new monument and garden here. "Hello everybody!" called Hitch, as he stood in front of the gates. "It is my great honour and pleasure to have been invited to open this park to the public. As you all know, this is-"

"SERGEANT HITCH IS SPEAKING!" Izzy boomed from the crowd. "NOBODY INTERRUPTS HIM WHEN HE TALKS!"

Hitch sighed, as Izzy had apparently missed the irony in those words. "Anyway, err, huff, erm, this place has been built as a place of reflection and relaxation. It contains, amongst other things, sculptures and pathways through landscaped terrain to help build a sense of calm (here he stopped to check his script), a monument to Falmouth sailors who are forever sailing the seas, and-"

"A place to look at lots of plant life!" Sunny interrupted, briefly taking the microphone.

Hitch gently pushed her away. "Thank you, Sunny. Anyway, there's also a small fruit patch."

"That should reduce import costs," Zipp said, to nobody in particular.

Suddenly, there was a loud hissing noise. Zipp quickly determined that it was not from cylinder cocks but from Pipp and Izzy, both of whom were ironically producing far more noise than she had been.

"NOBODY INTERRUPTS HITCH!" Izzy boomed again.

Zipp rolled her eyes. "Where did you get that loud shushing from? Sacre Coeur?"

"In fact, the soil is good around here for growing that sort of thing, as it contains lots of useful nutrients that don't need much fertiliser and..."

Hitch trailed off as he saw the crowd looking at him in annoyance. "I'm rambling, aren't I?" Anyways, It is my great pleasure to declare this pla-"

He never got a chance to finish his sentence. A party popper suddenly went off in the crowd, and this spooked several people. The crowd scattered in all directions, but many of them went forward, running straight into the gates and bouncing off them.

Hitch sighed. "That could have gone better."

A few hours later, and the sky had at least brightened up a bit. Hitch brought Rebecca to a stop in the engine shed and secured her in place, before heading into town to try and find Sunny.

Sure enough, he found her hard at work with some machinery. "Hey Hitch!" she called. "How are you?"

"Could be better," Hitch admitted, adjusting his beret. "That opening was a disaster. What you doing?"

"Just testing a new piece of equipment I installed on my milkshake maker. I've decided to diversify into both smoothie and milkshake production to give my customers more choice, and as part of this I'm experimenting with new flavours. It can be a bit maintenance heavy, but the customers seem to like the finished results." Sunny saw the sadness in Hitch's eyes. "I take it the opening is weighing a bit heavily on you."

"Yeah," Hitch replied. "So much stuff got knocked over and damaged."

"Well, the townsfolk did help fix it, so that was a good thing. Consider it a bonding experience!"

"Easy for you to say," Hitch replied, as he leaned against a railing.

"Excuse me?" Sunny asked. "What's that meant to mean?"

"That was a big moment to prove I'm in charge and capable of handling responsibility," Hitch said. "As a Sergeant it is my responsibility to manage, coordinate, and keep a section of men running and the attached logistics flowing. As such, we need to look good, especially after the Sprout fiasco. Instead it was chaos and smoothies."

"That sounds like a title of a novel!" said a passing man, a sailor with a gigantic beard.

Sunny was starting to get a bit hot under the collar, which was strange as she wasn't wearing one. "What's wrong with smoothies?"

"I have the hardest job in town around here, apart from the mayor."

"Oh, please," Sunny replied, rolling her eyes. "I work hard too. I've been multitasking this entire conversation." She held up a finished smoothie as evidence.

"That's not a hard job at all," Hitch snorted.

"Yes it is!"

"Stop pulling my leg! All you do is sit behind a desk all day and pull levers every now and then. A child could do that!"

Sunny's eye started twitching. "You think that's easy? Mixing liquids is not a simple task! Besides, all you do is walk around town and bellow loudly at people in camoflauge."

"Come on, that's a bit reductionist," Hitch countered. "You clearly don't get it, do you?"

"Do you get it?" Sunny countered.

Suddenly, Zipp interrupted them. "Hey. Shouting at each other isn't going to achieve anything. Stop arguing and do your jobs."

This gave Hitch a brainwave. "Do our jobs," he said. "I've got it!"

"Is it contagious?" Sunny asked.

"No, an idea! How about we swap jobs for the day? I can manage your stand, and you can direct my troops for the day. How's that sounds?"

"Sounds like a walk in the park," Sunny snorted. "How hard can it be?"

About an hour later, the section was lined up at the parade ground for their drill practice. Stood in magnificent lines, they were the image of excellence and form. Each of them had a rifle on their shoulders, as today was rifle drill.

"I wonder if the Sergeant is slightly delayed," said one cadet.

"No talking in the ranks," said the Corporal. "I imagine the Sergeant has his reasons."

"Oh, look who it is," remarked a Lance-Corporal.

Suddenly appearing on the parade ground was Sunny, but dressed a little differently to normal. In place of her usual casual clothing was dark green camo pants and jacket, black combat boots polished so precisely a face would reflect in it, and a green beret. Not those Green Berets though. Attached to the front of the jacket was a rank slide with three chevrons- the emblem of a Sergeant.

"Right, listen up you lot!" she bellowed.

"Have you had a bang on the head?" the Corporal said sarcastically.

"Hitch put me in charge for today, so you'd better behave yourself, as I will be reporting back to him!" Sunny continued. "Now then, drill is on the agenda tonight. This mostly consists of marching up and down a square, and tonight with guns too."

"Rifles," a voice corrected.

"Whatever." Sunny had by this point circled from one side of the parade ground to the other. "Let's see what you can do. BY THE LEFT! QUICK! MARCH!"

Nobody moved.

So she tried again. "BY THE LEFT! QUICK! MARCH!"

Again, nobody moved.

"Why isn't anybody moving?"

"The Non-Commisioned Officer presiding over the parade ground gives the order depending on which side of the section he or she is standing on. As you are standing on the right, the correct order would be 'by the right, quick march'."

"Oh." Sunny felt a bit silly. "I'd assumed that was an instruction telling the section which foot to start on. Let's try that again." She paused, and then went straight back to bellowing. "BY THE RIGHT! QUICK MARCH!"

The section then moved off, moving forward in three ranks. The square sounded to the noise of marching boots booming against hard tarmac, and sometimes words from Sunny.

"HUP TWO THREE FOUR! KEEP IT UP TWO THREE FOUR!"

The Corporal rolled his eyes. "She has no idea what she's doing."

Just then, they were approaching a wall. "TURN LEFT!"

Nothing happened, and the section simply stopped at the obstacle in front, their feet still moving up and down.

"I SAID TURN LEFT!"

"The correct order here would be 'By the Right, Left Wheel."

Sunny whiped her brow. "Hitch was right," she said to herself. "This is more complicated than I thought. Still, I think I can pull it back. Point the thingies with the things on them!"

The entire section began laughing, all whilst still marching in place. "That doesn't tell us what you want us to do, I'm afraid," the Lance Corporal said.

Suddenly here phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket to answer. "Hello?"

It was Pipp on the other end. "Sunny, we need help! The yard is a mess and the trucks aren't cooperating! Can you help us?"

"On my way," Sunny replied, as screaming could be heard in the background. "Keep doing what you're doing! I'll be back later!"

She sprinted out of the square as the Corporal rolled his eyes. "That was a mess. Keep marking time!"

It was utter mayhem on the dockside... again. Trucks and wagons were scattered haphazardly through numerous sidings and sitting all around the place. Sophie and Porter were trying to sort them into place, but the sheer volume of stock meant that it was taking ages.

"Who left this place in such a mess?" Pipp asked, as they tried to shift some vans wedged inbetween some tankers.

"I don't know," Izzy replied. "This is seemingly our lives now."

"Getting a bit of extra help would be a good start," Porter admitted.

Just then, Sunny skidded to a stop next to them- and promptly fell over. "Ow!" She got back up and dusted herself down. "Why is running in these things so hard?!"

"Don't just stand there, get Salty and help us with this mess!" Sophie begged.

Just then Charles arrived, and began laughing. "Having a spot of bother, are we?" he laughed. "And what's this? Sunny's playing at being a soldier? Never thought I'd see that day coming."

Zipp sighed. "I think I know what caused this."

Pipp looked back to her sister. "Don't just stand there, Zipp! Do something!"

Zipp nodded. "Sure. Goodbye." Charles promptly reversed away at great speed as Sunny ran for the shed as best she could.

Meanwhile, Hitch was busy manning the drinks stand. He had swapped his usual uniform for a Hawaiian shirt and brown slacks, and seemed to be having an easy time. "I don't know what Sunny was talking about," he said to himself. "This is the easiest job in the world. Just chuck some fruit in a blender and you're done."

"Excuse me?" compained a customer. "This isn't what I ordered. I asked for a strawberry and banana blend."

"That's what I gave you, isn't it?" Hitch asked.

"Nope. This lacks any raspberry seasoning, which Sunny usually adds."

Hitch grabbed a bottle and dumped something raspberry related into the cup. "That should do it."

Another person walked up. "Can I have my usual please?"

"What is that?" Hitch asked. "I don't usually man the stand."

"It's the drink I usually order."

"That doesn't help me."

"You're not talking enough!" said another person. "Sunny always engages us in light conversation when she makes smoothies and drinks."

"These people are all so demanding," Hitch grumbled.

"Can I get blue flavour?" asked a customer.

"Eh?"

"Your machine. Does it make blue flavour?"

Hitch was in a bind. He knew the machine was capable of producing those sorts of drinks, but not how to set it. He began pulling levers and pushing buttons to try and get the machine to output the correct results, which caused it to gurgle and bubble alarmingly.

Suddenly, all three nozzles blasted blue liquid at him, covering Hitch from head to toe in blue gunk. "This is awkward." He popped open the caps and saw the nozzles were full.

Zipp arrived moments later. "Turns out this whole job switch thing isn't working out for you."

Hitch was about to reply, but an incredibly loud crash from the direction of the dockyard attracted his attention.

Rebecca was off the line. She had derailed on some of the access points into the yard.

"What happened?" Sunny asked, as she checked the gauges.

"You took me over some points that are too tight for my wheelbase," Rebecca replied. "As a result, I derailed."

Sunny wiped her forehead from the accumulated sweat. "Why can't they design these cab controls logically? All these levers and chains and thingies and valves and whatsits!"

Just then, she heard a familiar engine spluttering and getting louder. The engine seemed to misfiring at points, which was odd to say the least.

She hopped out of the cab and slid down the cab steps to see Salty pulling up next to Rebecca. Hitch was at the controls, mostly covered in a strange blue substance. Salty was also coupled to the breakdown train.

"What happened?" she asked, as Hitch dismounted.

"I could ask the same of you," Hitch replied. "I take it running the section wasn't as simple as shouting at people."

Sunny hung her head and took her beret off. "Hitch, I'm sorry. I legitimately thought you had an easy time, but all those complex things and orders and formations to remember? You must be under a lot of strain. And as you can see I can't drive steam engines to save my life."

"In fairness, you don't have it easy either," Hitch replied. "I'm hopeless at running your stand or operating the machines."

"Well, I figured as much from the fact you're covered in blue milkshake," Sunny noted. "I guess we're both important to this town, just in different ways. Nobody can be Hitch like you can."

"And nobody can be Sunny like you can," Hitch smiled, looking ridiculous with more blue gunk sliding off his face. He raised his hand. "How about we put this behind us and use our own skillsets to clear this mess up?"

"You're on!" Sunny replied, and the duo immediately launched off into their secret handshake.

"Up high, down low, hitch it to a post! Flip it sunny-side up and on a piece of toast!"

And so, the crew got to work. Hitch assisted the work crew with getting Rebecca back onto the rails, whilst Salty and Sunny went shunting to try and clean up the mess in the yard. Once that task had been completed, Sunny returned to her stand and cleaned up the mess, including comprehensively de-gunking the nozzles on her milkshake maker, which had become clogged.

By that evening, the chaos was resolved. Sunny, looking more comfortable in her usual clothes, sat at a table in front of the seafront sharing some fish and chips with Hitch.

"I guess we both learned something important today," Sunny commented.

"Just because we do different jobs doesn't mean any one member of a community is less valuable than another," Hitch said. "It's the way we work together that helps our community function. It's a lesson I needed to learn too."

Sunny snorted. "It was a chaotic day, wasn't it? Seriously, how did you manage to make the milkshake machine spray like that?"

"Beats me," Hitch laughed. His face then went serious. "Wait a minute. You said you'd left the parade ground to help out in the dockyard. Did you dismiss the section first?"

"KEEP MARKING TIME!" the Corporal bellowed.

"For how much longer?" the Lance Corporal asked. "We've been marking time for hours!"

Author's Note

This story is based on the MLP Episode 'The Cutie Mark Mix-Up'. The title is derived from a sea shanty about an incompetent captain who has no idea what he is doing-rather apt for a story about two people finding out the hard way how hard the other's jobs are.

There are several references to different properties scattered throughout the chapter. See if you can spot them all!

Backwards to the Forwards

Normally, Argyle would have gone by train. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option today. The Falmouth Branch was very busy today, and as a result the trains were booked out with large numbers of tourists coming down to sample the beach and seaside customs of the town. There wasn't room to fit within the carriages, they were so busy, and they couldn't stick more trains in to make running simpler. So it was the car.

He glanced over to Goldie, who was in the passenger seat, and was coming with him. "So, what was it they told you again?"

Goldie glanced at her emails, which were on her phone. "Apparently, a locomotive owner has a piece of equipment he's planning on using for yard work. He'd heard we have quite a big yard in Falmouth, and was wondering if it was suitable for our needs. Hence why he'd like us to give it a try and see how it handles."

"I just wonder what he could have for us to need another engine," Argyle commented. "I mean, we've gone from no engines based here a few months ago to eight. Do we really need another one?"

"It keeps the options open," Goldie admitted. "Don't forget about Harvey either."

"Does he get much running, though?" Argyle asked.

"No, I'll admit. But he's quite useful for cleaning up messes."

"Still, I wonder what's in store for us."

Argyle arrived at Plymouth station and parked his car where he had been told to park in the instructions. As he got out, he saw a man in a suit waiting. "Argyle!" he said.

"Well, as I live and breathe!" Argyle smiled. "Rhys! I haven't seen you in years!"

"Who's this?" Goldie asked, as she got out of the car.

"Goldie, you remember Rhys, don't you? He's one of my friends from my photography trips in Europe. He was in the hotel bar where we first met!"

"Of course!" Goldie replied. "I didn't recognise him at first!"

"I will admit the years have not been kind to me," Rhys replied. "But we can talk all about our adventures as we walk over to the sidings. I have the engine there for you to inspect."

"Splendid. Shall we take a look?"

The three people walked across the station as a saddle tank blasted through. "What's Porter doing up here?" Argyle asked, more as a rhetorical question than anything else.

"Porter?" Rhys asked.

"He's one of the engines we have stationed at Falmouth."

Rhys laughed. "I had heard that Falmouth had become something of a railway hub. Tell me, how is Sunny? I believe she hadn't been born when we last met in person."

"She's doing great," Argyle replied.

"You really should come down some day," Goldie added. "We have quite an interesting town. We even did up a lighthouse as a home!"

"You always were inventive people," Rhys said. "And here it is! Or should I say, they are."

"What do you mean 'they'?" Goldie asked, and then saw what he meant.

The engine sitting in the sidings was not so much one engine as two bolted together. It appeared to be a pair of diesel shunters combined into one, but one had its cab removed, along with the cab controls. Only the rear unit had a number, and the combined noise of both engines was quite loud.

"What in the world?" Argyle asked. "What is this?"

"The only surviving Class 13," Rhys explained. "Hello you two! We have visitors!"

One of them spoke. "That means being on your best behaviour, Tinsley."

Followed by another voice. "I know, Thornaby!"

"We've got a short ballast train assembled in the yard if you want to try them out on a longer run," Rhys said. "I've got a slot for working from here to Liskeard to see what these two can do."

"You'll be my eyes, Tinsley!" said Thornaby.

Argyle climbed into the cab on one side, and Goldie took up position on the other. "So," Argyle asked, "which of you is which?"

"The one at the front is Tinsley, and the one you're standing in now is Thornaby. That's me," said the closest voice.

"This is gonna be confusing," Argyle sighed, as he adjusted the controls and began to back the pair up towards the ballast trucks.

"Are we going the right way?" Tinsley asked.

"Of course we're going the right way!" Thornaby replied. "The signalman sets our line for us, contrary to what you may have seen elsewhere."

Eventually, they rolled into the trucks and stopped, whilst Goldie got out to couple the engines up. Eventually, the signal changed and they were on their way.

After crossing the Brunel Bridge over the Tamar, the line climbs fiercely from there to Saltash, where it encounters a steep gradient. This section of line usually dictates that heavy braking is required before working down.

"I don't fancy my chances with the air brakes," Argyle said.

"You're in luck," Goldie told him. "The engine has a regenerative brake!"

"How useful!" Argyle said. "We can engage that when we go downhill and take the strain off the brake blocks."

As they rolled into the grade, Argyle flipped some switches and levers, and began to apply the regenerative brake. But this didn't seem to be having much effect.

He stuck his head out of the cab to hear Tinsley's regenerative brakes engaging, but Thornaby's engine was still going full blast. "What's going on?"

"You're meant to engage the regenerative brake manually on each engine," Thornaby explained. "Otherwise one of us is pushing back and the other is pulling forward."

"Ah!" Argyle said, and moved the other set of switches. "Sorry."

Much of the rest of the journey proceeded without incident, but they soon ran into problems again when they arrived at Lostwithiel. Lostwithiel has a number of junctions and complex track sections, all whilst hosting a double track mainline. Any train that is working onto the sidings needs to be aware of all trains at all times, and brake very precisely.

Unfortunately, this was not going to be the case today. Just as the train approached the signal, Argyle realised he had misread the signal. He reached down and slammed on the brakes.

But he forgot to adjust the engine power on Tinsley. The train screeched to a halt, but the engine in front was still revving furiously. The engineering had never been designed to deal with this sort of situation, and with a bang the coupler snapped.

Tinsley rocketed forward round the bend and derailed on the points, tipping over onto her side. "Ow!" she said. "That wasn't fun, you know!"

Thornaby rolled his eyes. "You just can't get the staff these days."

The line had to be closed in order to recover the damaged Tinsley, and Rhys was soon made aware. "I take it this engine is not so familiar in terms of running, is it?" he said.

"No," Argyle said, looking very embarrassed. "That was all too complex for my liking. I'll have to pass on adding that to the Falmouth fleet."

"Never mind," said Thornaby. "We aren't a simple engine to drive. We do go backwards to the forwards somewhat!"

Author's Note

The British Railways Class 13 was developed as a model of hump shunter, predominantly for use in yards where track gradients increased the risk of engines getting stuck in place. Essentially a pair of Class 08s bolted together, three were built and saw service as late as 1986. The pair here are named in honour of two prominent freight yards/diesel depots in the 1980s, Tinsley (in Sheffield) and Thornaby (in Teesside).

The story itself, suggested by Thomlight Sparkle, is loosely based on 'Mighty Mac', an episode of TTTE. The title is derived from a cancelled Cars Toon short themed around time travel. This chapter also occurs at the same time as the events of 'The Way she Does It'.

The Orange Controller

The streets of Falmouth hummed and buzzed to the sound of commerce, as people set about their days. Many made their way to bus or tram stops to continue their journey, whilst others who worked in Falmouth stopped off at local cafes and similar establishments to get their breakfast before continuing their journeys to their jobs.

Some had also taken to doing a bit of shopping, and a brass band was trialling new material that morning. The railway was also starting to awaken and light up, with engines being prepared for service.

Suddenly, the peace was shattered by a the familiar rumble of a set of roller blades. "Excuse me!" Sunny called, as she weaved through the crowd.

"Careful!" called one person.

"I nearly dropped my sandwich!" said another.

Sunny rolled over to one side and slid down a nearby rail before hopping off and stopping in front of the brass band, who were just finishing playing. "Do I have anybody's attention?"

"No," said a voice sarcastically.

Sunny turned to the bandmaster. "Good Morning, Good Morning?" she suggested.

The band once again began to play, and this seemed to have the desired effect. People shuffled over to see what was happening.

Sunny tapped a microphone to check it was on. "Hello, everybody!" she said. "I have a very important announcement to make, one that may change all of our lives." She paused for dramatic effect.

"Well?" asked Posey. "Out with it!"

Sunny drew some more air into her lungs. "I have an important announcement to WHOA!" She had forgotten she still had her roller blades on, and as a result rolled forwards and impacted the ground.

She slowly picked herself up, taking the blades off as she did so. "And that's why wearing protective equipment is always so important. I was going to announce that- we, as a town, eat far too much junk food!"

The silence was punctuated by a member of the crowd eating a packet of crisps.

"Talk about trying to drum up attention," grumbled a voice. "After all, you would benefit if people ate less fast food. You do run a fruit drink stand."

"That's not what I meant!" Sunny replied. "Weight issues and obesity are a serious problem, largely caused by the fact that most of our food is shoved full of fattening substances."

"Fruit and vegetables are expensive at the moment," said another voice. "What if somebody cannot afford them?"

Sunny smiled. "I have a proposed solution to that problem. Instead of buying fruit and vegetables, how about we grow our own?"

Several of Sunny's friends had joined the crowd. Hitch nudged Zipp and rolled his eyes. "It seems old habits die hard. She's back on her soapbox again."

"You mean like dig for victory?" said an older gentleman. "I remember that my parents maintained a vegetable patch even after the war had ended. And that was in the 1960s!"

"Yes! Exactly!" Sunny exclaimed. "And with that, it would also help with biosecurity. We import most of our fruit and vegetables, which is ridiculous when we can grow them ourselves!"

"Hypocrite!" said a voice. "I saw you and Hitch going to the chippy a few days ago. That's fast food."

Assuming Sunny was finished, most of the crowd dispersed.

"Seems your campaign isn't going brilliantly," Izzy said. "Perhaps a new approach is needed."

"Nobody even took one of my flyers," Sunny sighed. "So that's a bust. Ah well. I'll try again tomorrow and-"

"Perhaps a change in message is needed," Zipp suggested. "You did sound like you were doom mongering there, and at the end of the day anything is bad for you if eaten in excess. I'd suggest instead promoting a balanced diet with the whole 'growing fruit and veggies' thing as a part of that." She paused. "Besides, the back of the card shows a french fry with a stop sign in front of it. The meaning is unclear. Does it mean not to eat french fries? Or does it mean prevent french fries from entering Falmouth?"

"You mean chips, right?" Pipp asked. "French Fries is the American term. I know we speak with American accents, but still."

Sunny put a hand to her chin. "Hmm. On reflection, that messaging was a bit harsh. But, seriously, imagine the possibilities. People working together in harmony, helping each other out and in turn improving their own world! Michael Jackson once said that if you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself, and make a change. I feel we should live that every day of our lives!"

She hadn't noticed this, but she had started glowing during that sentence, and suddenly the translucent wings she seemed to gain periodically flared back into being.

The bright flash of light caught the attention of the entire crowd, who came rushing back to hear her speak. The man eating the crisps earlier was the first to speak. "So, tell us more about this plan. We're listening."

About half an hour later, work was proceeding on the dockside. It was Sunny and Salty's turn to work the harbour, and they set about the task quite happily. Several cargo ships had unloaded in the night, and goods needed delivering from the sidings to the marshalling yard, where the cargo could be taken to places far away.

Normally this was routine work, and Salty was well suited to it. "Well, this is all very odd," Salty said, as he rumbled backwards with some more trucks.

"What's odd?" Sunny asked.

"There seem to be more people than normal on the dockside," Salty replied. "And they're all taking photographs and video. This is very strange."

"Perhaps they're just railway enthusiasts, wanting to document the last Class 07 to be working on a dockyard," Sunny suggested.

"There's that, I suppose," Salty said. "How about some music to liven up proceedings?"

"Exquisite!" Sunny smiled.

As Salt rolled into the exchange siding, Sophie was waiting. "I don't recall anybody inviting Cool Cat!" she said.

"Don't say that!" Salty said. "You may get a frivolous lawsuit sent your way!"

Sunny climbed down from the cab and looked at Pipp. "Here's the conflats from the ships. I'll need to get the fish vans and..." she trailed off as she noticed Pipp's facial expression. "Erm, is something wrong?"

"You're still ponied up!" Pipp exclaimed.

"Ponied up? Is that even a adjective?"

"It is now," Pipp smiled. "This is totes good. You should make the most of it, as everybody will take notice. Before long, everybody will be breathing down your neck chanting 'Sunny, Sunny, Sunny'! We love you!"

Sunny did not like the sound of that. "Can you excuse me a moment?" she asked, and walked around the other side of Salty. There, she pulled the compact Pipp had given her out of her pocket and looked in it, seeing her reflection on the other side.

"OK, this couldn't be worse timing," she said to herself. "I don't wanna be like this right now. If only there was a way to make this go away!"

As if on cue, the wings and translucent energy phased out. "That's better!" Sunny smiled, and climbed into Salty's cab, keen to continue working.

"What was Sunny talking about?" Sophie asked.

"I don't know," Salty said. "It's all Greek to me!"

Sunny didn't realise that Misty had streamed the entire thing through a pair of goggles to Opaline. The latter was most surprised. "Sunny can change into a alicorn form?" she asked, in surprise.

"I didn't know you went to the Clarkson school of grammer," Boomer said, having joined the chat.

"Whatever," Opaline said. "If she had access to this 'ponied up' power, then why wouldn't she want to be using it all the time! I would, if I could. In fact-"

Opaline's speech was briefly interrupted by loud slurping. Once it had finished, she continued.

"However, I sense an opportunity here. If I can pursuade her to maintain her powers long term, then she could conceivably do most of our dirty work for us! Brilliant! I'll be even closer to retaking what is rightfully mine! And WILL YOU STOP WITH THAT ACCURSED SLURPING?!"

"Sorry," said Misty over the radio. "But this smoothie is really delicious. It's a pineapple and banana blend with a bit of raspberry in it which gives a bit of extra punch."

"Now is not the time to be drinking vegetables!" Opaline snapped.

"But the items in the smoothie are all fruits."

"Whatever. We have another plan to put into motion, and that requires your help. I need you to do whatever it takes to get Sunny to remain in her powered up form, whilst I engage in some... persuation."

"Understood. Athena!"

"My name isn't Athena," Opaline said. "Get moving and stop your blabbering. You sound like an idiot."

She walked over to a projection pool, and activated a device. "The benefits of a false mirror fitting," she smiled, and she laughed as the image morphed into an exact duplicate of Sunny when powered up.

Lunchtime came on the dockside, and work temporarily stopped. Pipp and Hitch sat at the same table, Pipp with a salad and Hitch with a sandwich. Pipp sighed loudly and slumped her head on the table.

"Something wrong?" Hitch asked.

"Yes!" Pipp exclaimed. "Nothing I've been uploading to either YouTube or TikTok has been doing well. On YouTube, it's these shorts with the Filly Four, whoever they are." She showed a short clip of four teenagers engaging in elaborate dance moves. "I mean, how is this entertaining?"

"Beats me," Hitch said. "I'm not a content creator."

"And HOW exactly am I supposed to get traction on TikTok with the double whammy of a new dance craze AND Nathan Evan's new sea shanty blowing up the ratings?" Pipp said. She flipped open the video.

"Well me father often told me when I was just a lad/
A sailor's life is very hard, the food is always bad/
But now I've joined the navy, I'm aboard a man-o-war/
And now I've found a sailor ain't a sailor any more!

"Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast/
If you see a sailing ship it might be your last/
Just get your civvies ready for another run-ashore/
A sailor ain't a sailor, ain't a sailor anymore!"

"Look!" Pipp said. "This video has thousands of likes, whereas my most recent upload has only five likes, a few taps, and a monkey. AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!"

"Sounds rubbish," Hitch said, not really understanding what was going on.

"None of my usual tricks have worked," Pipp sighed. "What if I've been... shadowbanished?"

Jazz, one of Pipp's colleagues at Mane Melody, sat down at the table with her own lunch. "I don't know what that means, but it sounds awful."

"Thanks Jazz," Pipp said. "Any reason you're wearing your heir that way today? It looks like you have no ears."

"They're just under my hair, that's all."

"Anyway, shadowbanishing is when your content gets blocked to viewers thanks to other things being more popular. It can't be that I've lost my creative touch... can it?"

Hitch interrupted. "Is this the dance craze you were referring to?" He turned his phone. "Because I have no idea how this has any artistic merit."

"Bunny, bunny
Do the bunny-unny-unny/
Bunny, bunny
Do the bunny-unny-unny!

"Kick up your paws and slide to the right/
Shake your tail, now, side to side!"

"How can this be trending?" Hitch said. "It's just a bunch of people making silly gestures and generally making fools of themselves."

Pipp's eyes lit up. "Could you share the video to me? I have an idea."

On the other side of town, Sunny had mysteriously powered up again, and was being approached by four kids her age. Sunny recognised one of them as Misty, but the other three were new to her.

"Oh, hello Sunny," said one, a girl with grey skin and red and white streaked hair. She was currently dressed in a grey shirt and blue jeans with a set of white sneakers. "My name is Sugar Moonlight. Me and my friends were about to go shopping in main street, and wondered if you wanted to join us."

"I don't need to go shopping right now. I'm not exactly short of clothing."

"But if you do, it will help you immensely," said one of the others, a girl with pink skin and purple and blue hair. "We are immensely influential, and some causes do need to celebrity boost."

"Imagine all that power!" Misty said.

"Indeed, Minty," Moonlight said.

"Misty."

Moonlight scoffed. "Whatever. All you have to do is hang with us and stay powered up as you are."

"That got a bit dark," Sunny thought to herself. "Well, OK then. I'll just go freshen up and be right back." She dashed in the direction of a store.

Moonlight rolled her eyes. "Freshen up in a bait and tackle shop? Weird."

Sunny ducked round a bend and pulled her phone out of her pocket before speed-dialling Pipp. The call took a few moments to connect. "Hello?"

"Bunny, bunny
Do the bunny-unny-unny-"

"What?"

"Sorry!" Pipp said, as the music came to a stop. "Just working on something. "Need something doing?"

"The Filly Four want to hang out with me! What should I do?"

There was a scream from the other end, followed by a loud crash. "The Filly Four? They're super influential right now. You need to get them on side. Think of all you might achieve if you have increased popularity!"

"True," Sunny said. "Some people still see me as a crackpot. I'll do it then. See ya!"

As she hung up, there was a strange fizzing and popping noise, and in that instant her wings phased out of existance. "Oh great. Just the best possible timing for that to happen. This power incontinence is a real bind sometimes."

"Sally," said a voice.

"Who's Sally?" Sunny asked.

"Sally," the voice said again. It seemed to be coming from her bag. Sunny popped it open and realised the sound was coming from the compact. She flipped it open- and nearly dropped it in surprise.

In the mirror was not her reflection. Instead, it was her when powered up. "Nice of you to open it up."

Sunny's eyes widened in surprise. "Is this some sort of projection? Articifical Intelligence? A manifestation of the inner workings of my mind?"

"I'm your inner voice," the other Sunny said. "I'm hear to guide you on your journey through life. And make sure not to tell anybody else, as this device will only work for you. Wouldn't want anybody thinking you were crazy, would we?"

"OK. Why are you calling me though?"

"To get you back on track. You're better than those other humans you communicate with. This is because you carry the power of magic within you. You're better than them. Why not show them the fact?"

"I have no idea how to control it. It seems to turn on and off at random. How do I control it?"

"Find the source of your power and harness it. Locate that, and all your wildest dreams can come true!"

"Even the community garden?" Sunny asked excitedly.

There was a momentary pause, where the other Sunny seemed to be lost for words. "That's your wildest dream? We can work on that. But harness it."

"I will!" Sunny replied, her thoughts turning to her plans. "I've already found a plot of land that will do the trick, and we can use that to make Falmouth a better place!"

"Good," the other Sunny smiled. "See? You're all powered up."

"Thank you so much!" Sunny said, punching the air in triumph. "I'll come up with a new name for you later, but it's time to make things happen!"

Once the call ended, Opaline rolled her eyes. "She is possibly the most boring person... in the world."

Sunny's powering up seemed to have the entire town out to see her. Shopkeepers and visitors were walking over with goods and supplies.

"Ah! Sunny!" said Lord Haven, making one of his rare appearances off the footplate. "Would you like to sample some new cheese I've been working on? It's a new type of cheddar made with Cornish milk."

"That's very kind of you," Sunny said, and reached to pick some cheese up.

"No!" Misty said. "Royalty such as you should not pick anything up! It must be passed to you!"

"That sounds more like laziness than anything else," Sunny replied.

She was soon barraged with questions from townsfolk.

"What products do you use to style your hair?"

"Does it feel strange when you're powered up?"

"What's it like to be ethereal?"

Sunny was beginning to think this was a bad idea. Nobody had ever behaved this way when she'd come through here before without being powered up. A nagging suspicion was building at the back of her mind. "Just a moment. I need to check my phone."

Before anybody could react, she ducked round a bend and stopped, before pulling out the compact again. "Hey, other me! I need some advice! The townsfolk are fawning over me and I suspect it's not for entirely altruistic reasons."

"Well, you're making progress. As I said, you're superior to other humans. You should take advantage of that. You should be praised, admired, feared."

"I don't want to be feared."

The other Sunny suddenly turned nasty. "Do you remember what it was like before the magic came back? How nobody took you seriously? Saw you as a nuisance? A problem? A crackpot?"

Sunny closed her eyes, wanting to prevent this other thing from seeing her tears. The browbeating had touched some very raw nerves.

She shut the compact as she powered down. A horde of people rushed by her, wanting to see 'the ponied up girl'. "I don't need to be like that for people to like me and care about societal causes, right?"

She quickly realised she was near the shed, and walked that way to Salty. "Day been tough on you?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, as she climbed his cab steps. "Let's go to the yard. I need to clear my mind."

About half an hour later, a massive crowd had assembled at the bandstand. Sunny, who was still at the controls of Salty, brought him to a stop next to a workman. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Apparently, they want to hear the girl with those shiny wings speak," the workman said. "Personally I don't see the appeal. Surely a social message matters no matter who is saying it."

Sunny secured Salty in place and shut down his engine, before hopping out and walking over to the bandstand. "Let me through please!"

"Can you please stop pushing?" said a large, round man. "A very important person is due to speak!"

Sunny's eye twitched. "Oh, we'll see about that," she said darkly, and continued pushing her way through. The girls from earlier were there, and looked very unhappy.

"What are you doing?" Misty asked. "You have to be powered up! You'll never get their attention if you're like that!"

Sunny glared at her, her breathing heavy. "We'll see about that."

Misty got the message and backed off.

Sunny took the podium and checked the microphone. "Citizens of Falmouth, I am here today to speak about the-"

Her voice was drowned out by loud booing. "Where's the celebrity?" shouted one voice.

"Yes, get off the podium, little girl," shouted another voice. "We have more important things to attend to."

Sunny blinked in surprise, and looked over to Moonlight. "What's going on? Why is everybody here?"

Moonlight shrugged her shoulders. "People are here to see you when powered up, of course. We want you to like us."

Sunny spluttered as she tried to form coherent thoughts. "Of course I like you!"

"But the town only like you when powered up," said somebody else, a girl called Rosedust. "Nobody really cares about the causes."

Those words confirmed all of Sunny's suspicions. "Nobody really cares," she whispered. "Falmouth really hasn't changed at all." She grabbed her helmet and roller blades, which she had somehow hidden behind the podium, and dashed off in the direction of home.

A while later, Zipp and Izzy made their way towards the lighthouse. "They told me she'd last been seen heading in the direction of her home," Zipp said. "I was wanting to check some stuff with her as there's a goods manifest bound for Truro later today."

"Porter and I put that together for you," Izzy said. "We also moved Salty back to the shed as he'd been left in the middle of nowhere for some reason."

Zipp knocked on the door, and waited for it to open.

Argyle looked out. "Oh, hi Zipp. You hear to see Sunny?"

"If possible," Zipp replied.

"That may not be so easy," Argyle said. "She's in her room and won't come out. She's also locked the door. I think she's really upset about something, but won't tell us what."

"We may have more luck," Izzy said.

"Good luck."

The pair made their way through the kitchen and up the stairs, eventually arriving at Sunny's room. Zipp knocked. "Sunny?"

"Go away," Sunny's voice replied.

"Hey, Sunny," Izzy said, "we're here to help. We want to speak to you and see if you're OK."

There was a sound of movement within, and the door bolt disengaged. The door slid open, and Sunny was on the other side. "Do you want to talk to me or the 'ponied-up girl'?" she said, her voice tinged with anger born of sorrow.

She looked a mess. Her hair was all over the place and her eyes were red. Not only that, her face was stained with tears.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Izzy asked.

"Well, what isn't wrong?" Sunny replied. "Nobody cares about these causes, and they never have. They only care about me being powered up. I don't want that! I don't want people following ideals just because some teenager with fairy wings and skin sheen happens to believe in them! People should truly stand up and fight for what they believe in!" She slumped. "The more things change, the more they stay the same, it seems."

Izzy spoke up. "Nothing has changed. You are still you. You haven't changed because of these magical thingies."

"I... haven't?" Sunny asked, sounding baffled.

"No!" Izzy said. "You're still the same person who took Porter and me in when everybody else was trying to get us! You've inspired us to push for a better world, both within and without. As you said this morning, if you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself, and make a change. Sometimes, all it takes is one person to change the world, and their actions can ripple out like a butterly's wings beating on the wind."

Sunny smiled, the first time she had done that in a while. "Thanks, Izzy," she said. "That means a lot to me."

"That was also some beautiful symbolism," Zipp said. "You sure have a way with words, Izzy."

"I was reading a philosophy book on my way here," Izzy smiled.

"And we have something pretty awesome to show you," Zipp noted. "Let's go!"

"Keep your hands over your eyes!" Izzy said.

Sunny nodded.

"Two more steps to the left! Slide to the right! Criss-Cross! Take it back now y'all!"

Sunny frowned. "Did you bring me out here to do the Cha-Cha Slide blindfold?"

"Izzy, stop being silly," Zipp said.

Izzy pouted. "But I'm so good at it. OK, open your eyes!"

Sunny opened her eyes and looked in amazement. "You build the proposed garden?"

"Yes we did," Hitch said. "We have space for everybody in town to grow the food they need, as well as plenty of natural fertiliser to help it grow." He frowned. "Never really used the chemical stuff on my own flowers."

"You seem to know a lot about growing plants," Pipp said.

"My grandmother was a botanist by trade. She's retired now, but more than happy to help me out if I need help cultivating plants."

"Besides," Pipp continued, "you've helped us all so much over the last year that it only seemed fitting to help you in return."

Sunny closed her eyes. "I don't know what to say. Thank you." In that instant, her wings flared back into being.

"Hey! You've transformed again!" Hitch said.

Sunny turned to him. "I think I've finally got the handle on this. I only power up if I'm helping somebody or working in pursuit of a cause I truly believe in."

The silence was interrupted by Zipp scribbling something in a notepad.

Pipp then spoke up. "And I found a way to both cheer you up and get back on top of the trending section!" She raised her phone, and two vidoes were near the top. One of them was something called the 'Pony Hip-hop', and the other was a video simply titled 'The Last Shanty'. Pipp opened this one, and the video began playing.

""Well me father often told me when I was just a lad/
A sailor's life is very hard, the food is always bad/
But now I've joined the navy, I'm aboard a man-o-war/
And now I've found a sailor ain't a sailor any more!"

Sunny's eyes widened in amazement. "You got to duet with Nathan Evans?"

"I know you like his output, so it was a no-brainer," Pipp smiled.

"Awesome!" Sunny grinned. "With you guys by my side, how can we go wrong?"

Author's Note

This chapter is based on the MLP Episode 'Ali-Conned', although the basic plot has been adapted to suit the human setting. A number of references to other things, including elements from Tell your Tale (which I'm a bit reluctant to consider canon), have been included.

This chapter is also an interesting circular moment for me. Sugar Moonlight is a key figure in this story, and she was also a character in the very first G5 story I wrote, all the way back in November 2021. Here's hoping I did a better job of her character this time."

Driving Lady Haven

Sunny wasn't feeling well. The evidence supported her conclusion too; she appeared to be running a fever and had come out in spots. Not to mention she'd developed a stinking cold in the middle of a heatwave.

She looked out of the window sadly. "Such a lovely day," she croaked. "And I'm stuck in here."

Argyle, who had agreed to look after her, sighed. "I know the feeling, Sunny. I had chickenpox when I was your age. They don't vaccinate against it in this country from some reason, so we'll have to sit it out. After all, it wouldn't help anybody if you infected them, would it? There's no guarantee your friends have ever had it."

Sunny nodded. "This will have a knock on effect down there, though. I wonder who will have to do shunting whilst I'm ill, and can't drive Salty?"

Alexandra grumbled as she was pushed into another set of trucks. "I keep telling you that railmotors do not shunt!" she complained. "It's bad for my cylinders, and could lead to other issues, like my varnished wood being damaged!"

"It's only for a few hours until Charles gets back," Lord Haven said. "Sophie is having to handle freight deliveries, and Rebecca's having mechanical issues... again. And as you're probably aware Sunny is ill, so that means Salty is stuck in the shed."

"Who is handling passenger duties today?" Alexandra asked, purely out of interest.

"What a marvellous day!" Lady Haven said, as she stood on Ray's footplate. "It's often been the dream of the upper ferroequinologist to work by train. And here we are, in that very position!"

"Indeed, ma'am," Ray replied. "But with only two coaches it may be a bit of a squash in the compartments."

Unfortunately, the passengers were about to have a very bad time. A woman had arrived with a pram, and inside it was a baby. And the baby was crying.

Loudly.

"What a racket!" said Harvey. "I had no clue something so small could be so loud!"

Goldie looked out of the cab. "I can think of plenty of small things that make lots of noise."

"Porter, to name one," Ray laughed.

"But we shouldn't be too harsh on a new mother," Goldie continued. "After all, she's probably going through a lot right now. Besides, Sunny was similarly noisy when she was a baby."

"You poor thing," Haven said. "Pipp and Zipp barely made a sound at that age. Come to think of it they slept most of the time."

The lady with the pram boarded the train, and just then the guard blew the whistle and waved his green flag.

Ray blasted his whistle in response. "I'll see you later, lads!" And away he went, steam shooting from his cylinders and chimney.

The baby was crying for the first part of the journey, but as the train got up to speed beyond Penmere (which was a request stop only during the morning peak) the crying stopped. The passengers breathed a sigh of relief at this.

"Thank heavens!" said a man. "I thought we'd be suffering through that the whole way."

Ray had to stop at Penrhyn to let Porter pass with some vans. He rolled to a stop at the signal and whistled.

And the crying started again.

Porter rolled in with the vans. "What a racket!" he said. "Whatever is producing that noise?"

"A baby," Ray said. "Somebody's brought an infant with them."

"And it's not very happy, I suspect," Lady Haven sighed. "Oh well. Keep calm and carry on."

The signal changed and they got underway. As they did so, the crying stopped once again.

"Hmmm," Ray thought to himself. "I wonder if there's a connection between me running and the baby crying?"

When they stopped at Perranwell, the final stop before Truro, they had a chance to test the theory. And as Ray had thought, the crying started up... again.

Eventually, they arrived at Truro, and the passengers got off. If they had been annoyed about the baby's crying, they were too polite to say so. Even the mother and baby got off, and so Ray stabled the coaches ready for the next run. The next train back for these coaches wasn't for several hours, so he was sent to do some shunting.

Whilst they were shunting, Lady Haven noticed something odd. "There's something not quite right with your locomotive brake, Ray," she said.

"How so?"

"I've got the lever hard down, but it seems to be having little effect on the brakes," she said. "I'll need to use the vacuum brakes for the forseeable future."

Ray was still shunting when Charles returned with some coaches. "Hello Ray!" he called. "Filing vans, are we?"

"These sidings need to be clean and orderly," Ray replied. "That needs an engine with a precise touch, not an incompetent oaf."

"I have never met such an oaf, so I shall be on the lookout," Charles smiled smugly. The passengers got on and off, and soon he was on his way.

Sure enough, it was time for Ray's return run, and he collected the coaches and shuffled to the bay platform. He hadn't time to use the turntable so was running bunker first. Lady Haven secured his brakes and then went to speak to the station master on the platform.

Her eyes widened a bit when she saw the mother and baby reboard the train. And, to nobody's surprise, the baby was still crying.

"I'm amazed it still has any voice left based on how it's been going," the station master admitted.

"It must be very upset about something," Lady Haven sighed. Suddenly, she heard a noise behind her. A youth sprinted past, laughing.

"Go home, English!" he shouted as he ran past.

Lady Haven was going to reply, but to her surprise there was a wheesh of steam and rolling of wheels. The coaches began to move. "What in the world?"

"The twit took my brakes off and opened my regulator!" Ray replied. "You'd best hurry!"

Lady Haven, without thinking twice, jumped on the side of the carriage passing her and held on.

"STOP! STOP!" shrieked the passengers onboard, aware of the impending danger.

"I can't stop without a driver!" Ray shouted. "Hopefully this hill will stop me!"

Just then, as he cleared the tunnel, he saw his driver clambering along the side of the carriages. "Are you sure that's a good idea, ma'am?" he called.

"It's that or you derailing!" Lady Haven replied. "And I know which is worse." She continued to make her way along the side of the carriages, looking like something out of a Hitchcock thriller. "I'll make it to the other end, I'll be sure of it!"

She kept on going, battling the wind that threatened to tear her off. By the time they reached the top of the hill, she was on the back of the first carriage and ready to clamber over onto Ray's running board.

"There's a tunnel with lots of dangly bits here!" Ray called, as they began to descend into the tunnel. Lady Haven covered her nose and mouth with the bandana she had around her neck to avoid inhaling any nasty fumes. Once out of it, she climbed over with one swift motion, clambered down the side of Ray's left hand tank, and into his cab. She shut the regulator and slammed on the brakes, bringing him to a swift halt.

"That could so easily have turned nasty," Ray said.

"I know all too well," Lady Haven sighed. "That's quite enough excitement for one day. I could do with a spot of tea."

Eventually, they arrived back at Falmouth after an otherwise uneventful run. The station master was waiting for them. "Sorry to hear about the incident," he said, "but thank you for your work. That's my wife and son you were babysitting, in effect."

"Oh?" Ray said. "How interesting."

The station master peered into the carriage to see his wife and son asleep. "That's the longest they've slept for days, I suspect," he said. "Thank you, your ladyship, for all your help."

"All in a day's work," Lady Haven replied.

The mother then walked over to the cab. "Thanks for your help, you two," she said. "Even if things did get a bit too exciting for my taste. But I think I have an idea what to name him."

"And that would be?"

"Ray, after your engine."

"Well, I'm quite honoured," Ray said, who seemed to be smiling.

And all was well that (mostly) ended well. Although Sunny was effectively housebound for a few more days, her friends made sure to video chat with her each day.

And that boy who meddled with Ray's controls didn't get away either. He was caught by the police and suitably punished- by being required to muck out Ray's boiler for an entire month. As they say, what goes around comes around!

Author's Note

This chapter combined elements from 'Henry Sees Red', 'Thomas the Babysitter', 'Old Iron', and 'The Runaway'. The title is a reference to both the 1989 comedy film Driving Miss Daisy and the EqG short 'Driving Miss Shimmer'.

Sleepytime Down South

It was the end of another week in Falmouth, and everybody was looking forward to the weekend as an opportunity to rest and relax a bit. A week was typically very chaotic, so any chance to just enjoy yourselves without having to worry about what tomorrow might bring was often appreciated.

At the depot, Charles came to a stop in the shed. "You know, Sophie," he said. "My genius terrifies me sometimes."

"Oh, here we go again with talk of your genius," Sophie groaned. "Sticking things together in a different order does not qualify as genius."

"I found a way to speed things up," Charles smiled. "I placed the vans with loads behind the engine to give me more speed!"

"That also means all the trucks are in the wrong order for shunting," Sophie said.

"Did you think this through?" Porter asked. "Because it doesn't sound like it."

"Go and get your teeth whitened."

"I HAVE NOT HAD MY TEETH WHITENED!"

Zipp climbed off Charles' footplate as his engine shut down, and walked outside to see the others sitting about a table.

"What a lovely evening," Hitch said, looking at the sky. "We really should do something together this weekend. We seem to spend so much time with other things that we don't seem to have enough time to just be friends."

"I like the idea, Hitch!" Pipp replied, taking a snap of the sunset and uploading it to Instagram. "But what are we going to do?"

Suddenly, Sunny spoke. "I've got it!"

"Is it contagious?" Hitch asked.

"We've already used that joke!" Ray called from the shed.

"No," Sunny said. "How about... a sleepover at the lighthouse!"

"What a marvellous idea!" Pipp said. "Got any ideas, Izz? You haven't said much all evening."

"I can do some baking in preparation," Izzy said. "We could make it a cultural mixture of all of our traditions. Not to mention have fun in the process."

"So, provided we can find time in our schedules, would tomorrow work?" Pipp suggested.

"Seems fine to me," Hitch said.

"And me," Izzy added.

"Count me in," Sunny added.

Zipp rolled her eyes. "Looks like I'm getting roped into something else."

Izzy was out in town the next day looking for supplies for the cake she was baking for the sleepover, which was going ahead according to a text she had. This was good news, as she liked making food. She just had one more place to get supplies from, which was just around the corner, and so walked there as she hummed to herself.

Just as she was about to turn the corner, however, she walked into somebody. Literally.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, as she bumped into them. "Oops! Sorry!"

There was no reply. Izzy looked down to see she had knocked Misty to the floor. "Need a hand?"

"Thanks," Misty replied. "Sorry, I was in your way. I should probably be going now, so-"

"Wait a minute!" Izzy said. "Me and the others-"

"The others and I," a passer by interrupted.

"The others and me and I are organising a sleepover at the lighthouse. Wanna come?"

Misty had an idea. Opaline had wanted to see for a long time what was inside the lighthouse. And this could be her chance to find out. "Yeah, sure. OK. That's great!"

A few hours later, Misty arrived at the lighthouse as instructed and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, Izzy answered it, a grin on her face. "Welcome to Falmouth lighthouse Misty... Misty..." Izzy paused and consulted her memory. "You know Misty, you never told me what your surname was."

Truth be told, Misty had forgotten the answer she had given to Sunny all the way back at Christmas. She looked around for clues. "Lighthouse!" she shouted. "No, wait, maybe not. Stained glass window! No, who's called stained glass window as a surname? Sunset! Sunset!"

Sunny looked confused. "I thought you said your surname was Brightdawn."

"Yeah, that's totally what I meant because I somehow forgot my own surname in the heat of the moment! Silly, huh?" Misty's nerves were betraying her as she entered the lighthouse. Sunny escorted her through the kitchen, which was decked out with stuff, to the main living area. Bowls, plates, and plenty of snacks and crafting supplies were laid out and ready for use.

"Still, it's nice to finally get time to hang out with you, Misty," Sunny smiled. "You always seem to disappear so suddenly from work."

"Do I? Well, I certainly wasn't aware of that-"

Zipp felt something was off about Misty, but put it down to first time nerves. After all, she'd been similarly jittery when she'd first arrived in Falmouth, according to what Hitch had told her.

"Well, let's get this party rolling!" Izzy called.

After starting with a cone decorating session that somehow ended with Pipp having a glitter goatee despite their being no glue on her face, the crew built towers and began removing bits from them to see if they would fall. Seeing as pillows, mattresses, and other such things are not designed for building stable structures, it didn't take much for them to fall over.

Next they switched to board games as the sun continued to set. Izzy insisted on playing The Cones of Dunshire for reasons best known to herself, a game they had to abandon about half an hour in as nobody could understand how the game worked. So they switched to SmallWorld, which is very simple by comparison.

After a quick pause for tea and biscuits, it was time to load up on popcorn and other things. Misty tried some popcorn and seemed to be in a state of nirvana as the flavours and textures were processed by her mind. "This is the best popcorn I've ever tasted!" she exclaimed.

"Family recipe," Izzy replied. "Now, who wants to watch something?"

Zipp won the dice roll for deciding what to watch, so they settled on Plan 9 from Outer Space, and had much fun laughing at the sheer incompetence of the movie.

Sunny checked her watch. "Are you sure we'll have enough time to fit everything in? My watch says it's 10 at night now."

"Time for kareoke then, before the neighbours start complaining!" Pipp suggested.

"I don't have any neighbours," Sunny replied. "We're in a lighthouse, remember?"

"In which case we can make as much noise as we want." Izzy switched on another device she had assembled and began humming. "Ouch. I'm really out of tune."

To solve this problem, she selected some really strange freestyle Jazz backing track and began improvising on a tenor saxaphone she somehow produced from nowhere.

"Fancy joining in?" she said to Misty, in the midst of a break section.

"I don't know much of whatever this music is," Misty said.

"I agree with that. Could we switch to something else? This is sounding a bit weird," Sunny agreed.

After swapping the tracks to pop songs, it quickly emerged Misty didn't know the words to the majority of popular songs, and simply improvised lyrics as she went along. The fact that she couldn't sing in tune didn't help.

After all that had happened, everybody was pretty tired. But there was time for one last tradition. The six gathered their sleeping bags and placed them in a circle, and Sunny began to tell a story.

"A long, long time ago-"

"I can still remember how the music used to make me smile?" Zipp said.

"Sorry?" Misty said.

"It's the opening of American Pie by Don McLean. Good song. You should listen to it."

"Where was I?" Sunny asked. "Anyway, on the coast of England is an Island called Sodor. It has sandy beaches, and is surrounded by blue sea. There are roads, waterways, and lots of trees where the birds sing. The island even has factories, several harbours, and a coal mine. It is also covered in lots and lots of railway lines."

She paused for dramatic effect. "And a long time ago, the island was written about, documented, and preserved in the pages of legend by the work of three men. They were Wilbert Awdry, Edwin 'Teddy' Boston, and Eric Treacy. In fact, they became such experts on Sodor they became known as the Guardians of Sodor, and even started a new field of academic study. It's called Sudriology."

"Sounds like an interesting degree," Pipp said.

"But one day, their writing just stopped. It's believed that something caused them to stop writing about Sodor, but the termination of their writing correlates with the time the Non-Faceless Vehicles started to vanish. It's believed that the two are connected."

"That's not the story!" Misty exclaimed.

Sunny blinked. "That's what's written down in the history books. If you want more details on Sudrian customs and life, I'd suggest reading Island of Sodor: Its People, History and Railways. Infuriatingly it's currently out of print, but you can borrow my copy if you want."

"No! The story you told!" Misty said. "A long time ago, there was a wise and powerful woman in the ranks of the Other Railway, who wanted Sodor to benefit from the advances of the Modernisation Program. But the Fat Director, and those other men you mentioned, were too stubborn to see that the railways needed to change in order to survive. As a result, they divided the crystals that powered the magic, depowering her and weakening the Other Railway. That's what really happened."

"What?" Pipp asked. "That sounds like one big fever dream."

"It also doesn't match anything we were told," Zipp said. "Where did you hear this version?"

"I may have embellished it a bit, but this was found in some archives somewhere."

Sunny sighed. "Oh well. We can argue about it in the morning. I'll get the lantern from upstairs and set it down here. That way we don't all fall over each other if we get up in the night."

Misty immediately took interest in the lantern the second it was placed down. The central tube glowed with a rainbow like energy. "That's prisbeam magic?!" she thought to herself. "Is that what powers the crystals and allows engines to talk?"

She knew Opaline would be happy if she got her hands on that. So that night, she decided that the best course of action (and to avoid Opaline biting her head off, so to speak) was to 'borrow' the lantern for a bit. Without asking.

But then she thought twice. Even if the others thought she was a bit odd, she genuinely liked them. Stealing from them felt... wrong.

Her heart was torn in two. What to do?

In the end, she settled upon a solution. She took out a bottle from a bag, and opened the top of the lantern. She then tipped a small bit into the jar and sealed it. That was a good compromise.

She, like the others, settled down to sleep. She had a long journey ahead of her, after all, provided she could get away without being spotted.

Author's Note

This story is based on the MLP Episode 'The Traditional Unicorn Sleepover', but with some minor changes to fit the setting. The two board games mentioned are real; The Cones of Dunshire is a fiendishly hard tabletop game originally created for the ABC sitcom Parks and Recreation as a parody of games like Catan. The other game, Smallworld, is a personal favourite of mine.

The chapter title is derived from a song written by Clarence Muse, and later became the signature tune of trumpeter Louis Armstrong.

The three men mentioned as being the Guardians of Sodor are all real people. Awdry, of course, needs no introduction, as without him this story wouldn't exist. Teddy Boston was a fellow clergyman and close of friend of Awdry who famously operated a light railway in his parish of Cadeby; the saddle tank Teddy is named in his honour. Finally, Eric Treacy was the Bishop of Wakefield (not far from where my dad grew up) and was a prolific railway photographer. An engine at the North Yorkshire Moors Railway is named after him.

If you're wondering where the adults are, well... tomorrow will reveal all. Until then, have a great day!

Argyle and Goldie's Great Night Adventure

"You know what?"

Argyle turned to his wife as he finished cleaning a bowl. "No, I'm afraid I don't. You haven't told me what it is you're thinking of."

"Well, seeing as Sunny wants to host a sleepover here tonight, I was thinking we could head somewhere else, like we did on the old days."

"You mean go to town?" Argyle replied. "It's a bit late to be going to London, isn't it? It'd be 10 when we got there, and in order to be back at a reasonable time we'd be catching a sleeper."

"Not quite that far," Goldie replied to her husband's reply. "I was thinking somewhere a bit more local. How about... Penzance?"

"How exotic!" Argyle smiled. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll just finish cleaning this lot up, and then get ready. I believe an express to Penzance calls at Truro at 6, so that gives us a few hours to get ready."

"And make sure to tell Sunny where we'll be," Goldie added.

"Well, naturally. It'd be silly to leave her worrying."

After informing Sunny and the others where they were going to be, and ensuring she knew who to call if they had any difficulties, the duo set off for the station. For some reason a jazz band were playing outside the station, and the train was waiting in the platform for them.

And Alexandra was more than up to the task. The railmotor puffed gently as they climbed along the Cornish coastline, the sun beaming down on the cliff face.

"Quite romantic, this," Argyle said. "Scenes like this would have been an everyday sight about 100 years ago."

"The windows are also better than on the old DMUs," Goldie admitted. "We can clearly see the sea from in here!"

Eventually, they arrived at Truro. "This is Truro," said Lord Haven over the speaker trumpet. "Please change here for trains to Penzance or Paddington."

"Quite the choice, huh?" Goldie smiled, as she stepped out onto the platform. Ray whistled from the yard as he headed onto the branch with a goods train, before a very long train arrived in the platform. It was painted dark green, and the lead and rear cars looked like bullets.

"Didn't know we had bullet trains in Britain!" Argyle joked.

"I'm an IET," the train said. "That stands for Intercity Electric Train."

"Ah!" Argyle said. "Currently running on batteries, I guess."

They found their carriage and boarded, and within minutes they were gliding away through the Cornish countryside, albeit surrounded on most sides by trees. But at last they flew down the seafront, and past the diesel depot that stood on the seafront. The limitless boundaries of the sea opened up on the left hand side as they flew along, before slowing down for the final stop at Penzance.

Penzance, much like Truro, was a town that had been built by the sea. A large scale trading port, it had once been home to pirates. These days, however, it was popular with day trippers and evening traffic, just like the ones we had today.

The duo got off the train, and looked down the platform at the trainshed sitting over the platform. "When were we last here?" Argyle said.

"Many years ago," Goldie replied. "But the memories feel as though they were yesterday. Anything you planned on doing?"

"I was thinking of leaving that to you. After all, this was your idea."

As they headed off down the platform, they didn't notice a saddle tank roll into the carriage sidings from a hidden track, followed by Boomer getting off. "Took you long enough, you useless engine," he grumbled, as he set off towards the station.

After enjoying a superb meal and taking in an open air performance from a local folk band, Argyle and Goldie began to make their way back towards the station. "Well, that was fun!" Argyle smiled.

"Remember how hot it used to get on the old trains?" Goldie said. "Good thing these new ones have air conditioning!"

As they arrived at the station, a man dressed mostly in leather stopped before them. "Ah, Goldie! Been a long time. Do something new with your hair?"

"Good evening to you too, Peter," Goldie replied, her voice suddenly devoid of warmth and sounding rather annoyed. "Yes. It has been a long time. And I would have preferred it to be longer."

"Just know I'm always available if you get bored of him," Peter said, as he walked away, back towards the yard.

Goldie rolled her eyes. "Still at it, I see."

"Who was that?" Argyle asked.

"Peter Boomer," Goldie told him. "We dated briefly when I was in college. I broke off the relationship when I could sense he wanted to move things in a more romantic direction. At the time I wasn't ready to commit to something like that."

"I understand," Argyle said. The pair walked down the platform, and suddenly saw a tank engine sitting in the yard. It was of average length for an 0-6-0, with a green saddle tank that didn't quite extend as far as the smokebox. The dome was oddly square, and it had an unusually shaped cab with a large bunker. A jumble of machinery was visible on the side, and the frames were quite squat.

He was speaking to a man. And they didn't seem happy.

"You exist to do as I tell you," the man said, revealing them to be Peter. "Get that cargo moved to the facility."

"What you are doing is illegal!" the tank engine said, confirming them to be male. "I can't do this any longer!"

Suddenly, the darkness was broken by a flaming torch. "That will be quite enough," Peter said coldly, his voice conveying something of malice. "If you aren't prepared to do as you are told... there's a scrapyard with your name on it." And he walked away to check some things.

"I recognise that voice," Argyle said, and dashed along the platform. "Could it be?"

The engine looked over and suddenly looked amazed. "Argyle?" he asked. "Can it be?"

"Brookes! It's been a long time since I last saw you!" Argyle said. "I never thought I'd see you again."

"Who is this?" Goldie asked.

"When I were just a boy, we lived next to an industrial facility. Brookes here was the shunter at that facility. I had no idea he'd survived!"

"I may not, based on the way Boomer is acting," Brookes said.

"Boomer?"

"P. T. Boomer," Brookes explained. "He's running the show around here. I don't like it, but when the cutter's torch is hanging over your smokebox, so to speak, I don't have much of a choice."

Then he said the five words guaranteed to move any railway enthusiast to tears.

"Please don't let me die."

Argyle froze up for a second, and then his face shifted to one of determination. "I won't," he said. "I let you down before. I won't make the same mistake twice."

Without hesitating, he jumped down from the platform and ran over. Once on the footplate, he looked over to Goldie. "Come on! What you waiting for?"

"Isn't this technically stealing?"

"Not when the object in question wants to go!" Argyle replied. "Let's go, before Boomer gets back!"

Goldie needed no prompting, and made her way over before climbing into the cab. "Glad I decided to wear trousers tonight," she said.

After a few last adjustments, Argyle advanced the regular. Brookes began to roll forward and towards the end of the yard. He rolled over the pointwork, and onto the main line. The signaller clearly though this was a main line train, and set the points for the main line.

They puffed along the line, looking truly magnificent as they went along. Up and down hills they went, rarely stopping (apart from one incident where they called out the fire brigade to get some water). But at last they made it to Truro, where they placed Brookes in the yard.

"We'll couple you into a goods train to take you down to Falmouth, where you'll be safe," Argyle told Brookes. "Not all humans are cruel. There are many who care about engines, and want to keep them in working order."

"Thank you for rescuing me from those people," Brookes replied, as he was attached to the goods. "I won't waste this second chance. That's a promise."

"Never a problem," Goldie said. "Now, we'd best be finding somewhere to rest. I think the last train to Falmouth has departed."

"Not so, you two!" called a familiar voice. Alexandra rumbled into a nearby platform and came to a stop. "The signalman called ahead to let us know what was happening. Nice to see a new face around here, though we could do with a dedicated shunter for Truro Yard."

It had certainly been an eventful night out. But it had been lucky they had gone that night, or else a fine engine may well have been lost to the cutter's torch.

Author's Note

This story takes place concurrently with the events of 'Sleepytime Down South'. Elements of this story were inspired by both TATMR and Saved from Scrap.

The train that Argyle and Goldie ride to Penzance is a Class 803, which can either run on overhead power, or from batteries charged from overhead wires. Amusingly, this means that Kana (of AEG infamy) is an example of accidentally correct writing, as she can also run on electrified rail or batteries.

But by far the most significant addition is:

This locomotive, Brookes No. 1, is a Hunslet Fitzwilliam built in 1941 for the Brookes Brothers Company of Halifax. It spent its entire industrial career allocated to Lightcliffe Quarry, which supplied a chemical plant.

This engine is of great emotional significance to my family, as it worked not far from where my father grew up. As a result, he considers it his 'local engine'. Today, the engine can be found residing at the Middleton Railway in Leeds. In terms of personality, Brookes is based on the character of Andy from the sitcom Detectorists, who was portrayed by MacKenzie Crook.

Topsy-Turvy

Work on the new Haven residence was proceeding apace, and the property was looking pretty good. The house itself dated from the 17th Century, which explained some of the lower ceilings. The very difficult stuff was being done by a group of contractors, who were working in the upper levels of the house. But the lighter work was being handled by the Havens and their daughters.

One day, Pipp and Zipp had invited their friends to help with some minor tasks on the bottom floor. The work was relatively simple, mostly consisting of hanging paintings and adjusting some tables. Boxes sat all over the floor with various things inside them.

"Seriously, how did you guys end up with so much stuff?" Izzy asked, as she pulled some more things out of a box. "You must have a very cluttered house back in Swanage!"

"Tell me about it," Zipp replied. "Every time we get important visitors from some important place we get given gifts. I've lost track of how many bottles of different things or boxes of jewels we've received. We must catalog it someday."

"I quite like it when people come to visit," Pipp admitted, as she propped up another table.

"That's because it gives you an excuse to play princess," Zipp replied. "Our chances of becoming monarchs are nil as we have no claim to the throne."

"Really?" Izzy asked. "Aren't members of the Royal Family dukes and things like that?"

"The British nobility and the Royal Family have some connections, but remain two distinct things. Something that I often find myself explaining to foreign visitors."

"Where should I put this vase?" Sunny asked. "I just ask as it's heavy and I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to hold it up."

"Place it on the table there," Pipp pointed, as she folded something out. "There's the guestbook!"

"Why would you need a guestbook when you live here?" Hitch asked.

"Because we won't live here for some of the year, and so the place doesn't fall apart we're planning on renting some of it out as affordable housing," Pipp explained.

Zipp dropped a pair of goggles in to check everything was in shape. "Wait, that's weird. See that small painting over there, on the wall?"

"Which one?"

"The oil painting," Zipp specified. "I used the heat vision function on my goggles and spotted a massive heat spike behind it. But based on the floor plans we have there's no logical reason for the wall or space behind it to be that warm."

Sunny walked over and removed the painting- to reveal a swirling void beyond it. Suddenly, the room began to shudder and shake. The portal wobbled and wheeled. And the narrator began to feel his brain cells decreasing by the second.

Everything in the room began to be pulled towards it. Sunny was pulled through it and vanished.

"SUNNY!" Izzy cried, as she held onto a rod attached into a wall. This, unfortunately, broke, and she was sucked into the portal.

Hitch did his best to catch Pipp as she went flying past, but his hand missed hers by a few inches. Her screaming gradually gew quieter as she was pulled into the portal, as if somebody was turning a volume dial down.

Zipp held on as best she could as her body was buffeted by the winds of the portal. The wall which the handrail she was holding onto buckled, and the handrail was ripped out. She flew sideways and slammed into Hitch, who was knocked loose and fell. The duo were sucked into the portal, which closed the second Hitch was in.

Lady Haven stepped through a few seconds later. "Pipp? Zara?" She looked around in confusion. "That's funny. I thought I heard their voices in here a few moments ago."

The portal vomited the five out into a strange place, where they landed on the floor in a heap.

"Hey!" Sunny called. "Can you guys get off?"

"I've got other people weighing me down!" Izzy said, who seemed to be struggling to breathe.

"I can't easily move!" Hitch complained. "Not least because of Zipp's weight!"

"Are you calling me fat?"

Suddenly, the pile rolled to one side, and the five were deposited onto a platform. They looked about themselves with a mixture of bafflement and confusion.

"Anybody hurt?" Hitch asked.

"I have a chipped nail!" Pipp replied.

"Hardly qualifies as an injury," Zipp replied.

"Easy for you to say," Pipp snapped. "This is your fault!"

"How is it my fault a portal was there?"

"Well, you spotted it, and then told us about it."

"I never said anybody had to move the painting! Stop putting words in my mouth!"

"Guys, can we please stop arguing?" Hitch asked. "We need to figure out where in the world we are. Because this looks nothing like any place we know."

Sunny was looking about, seemingly recognising what she was seeing. "This feels familiar," she said. "Like I've seen this place before."

Izzy was digging about on the platform, and found a board. "Apparently, we're in a place called Knapford," she said. "What a weird place name."

Sunny's eyes opened wider in a mix of surprise and confusion. "Sorry?"

"Knapford," Hitch clarified. "I'm guessing it's a place you know."

"Of course I know it!" Sunny said. "It's a place I've heard of. We're on Sodor!"

"Looks like it is real," Zipp noted, as she scribbled something down. "Something feels a bit weird about this place, though. I can't quite explain it, but something doesn't quite right."

Strange, haunting music played through speakers, sounding like something you'd hear in a horror film. "You're right, Zipp," said Sunny. "There's something wrong, but I'm not quite sure what."

Suddenly, a voice spoke from one side of the station. "Here comes Thomas!"

Sunny's eyes widened as she saw what was approaching. "Can it be... no, no, no..."

This 'thing' that was approaching came to a stop. He looked like some vulgar parody of the little tank engine so many had come to know and love. His whistles were weird and shapeless, and his tanks sloped upwards at weird angles. He had no connecting rods, and a hideously mishapen cab, smokebox, and face. He smiled at them in a creepy manner. "Do you want to be really useful?" he asked. "Because we can friends forever... and ever... and ever."

Pipp screamed in fright. "WHAT IS THAT THING? GET IT AWAY FROM US!"

"Run for your lives!" Izzy shouted, and the five dashed for another platform as another blue engine pulled in.

He also lacked connecting rods, and seemed to be some sort of Prairie engine (albeit with a tender). It called over. "With me! I will help you escape! My name is Gordon!"

Keen to escape the madness, the five piled onto his footplate, and Gordon pulled away as the 'thing' looked on. "I just want to be friends," he said, in the weird, singsong voice, and flew after them.

Gordon looked behind him as the thundered along. "Oh no you don't, little Thomas," he said. "You will not have them!"

This seemed to only annoy Thomas. "Aww, can't I play with them?" And in one motion, his frames wobbled and lurched, and he jumped from one line to another. He was now pulling up on Gordon and fast.

"What is this place?" Hitch asked. "Because I'm pretty certain metal can't bend like that."

"Physics seem to be a bit out of wack here," Zipp observed. "Interesting. Maybe we can also jump amazing distances."

Gordon laughed. "Two can play at that game, Thomas." He jumped from one line to another, and opened a crossing gate with a leading wheel. Several trucks rolled out of it and stopped Thomas in his tracks.

"It would seem the fugitives have escaped my clutches so far," said a man, sitting at a desk as he consulted a map. "But never a problem. The last we knew was that Gordon had helped them escape."

"Their presence here consitutes a problem, Topham," said a voice. "You must capture them and bring them to me, or else the entire plan may fall apart. Your position is, shall we say, on the line as well."

"Yes, Opaline," 'Topham' replied.

"Good. Now get to work."

As the call ended, 'Topham' started to laugh. "The world shall tremble in fear. First, this dimension, then, those next to ours! I shall become the most powerful man in the universe, for I AM EMPEROR TOPHAM HATT!"

After many hours of hard travel, Gordon came to a stop in a gorge. "We can rest here," he said. "Alongside the others."

"What others?" Sunny asked. "Did others make it here?"

"Yes," Gordon said. "Though rather more quadrupedal than you."

As the five got off and walked to the encampment, their eyes widened in shock. Sitting around a campfire were five ponies. Ponies who looked similar to them.

The yellow one looked over, and his jaw dropped. "Bipedal things that look like us? Whaaaa-"

Author's Note

Anybody who knows me will know that I am not a fan of All Engines Go; a quick look at my blogs from the past year will make my feelings on the property abundantly clear. However, it does have some curious connections to the Fifth Generation of MLP, and as such I felt a comprehensive deconstruction of AEG was in order.

I mean, look at this monstrosity. You cannot convince me in any way that this 'thing' is Thomas in any way, shape or form.

Hence this story, which makes things darker. You'll get to experience more of this insanity tomorrow, and learn exactly how all of this slots together.

Having said that... I will give them points for getting Neil Crone to voice Gordon.

Reefer Madness

The five ponies looked in confusion, their jaws wide as they looked at the humans. The five humans looked in confusion, their jaws wide as they looked at the ponies. It was very clear to all observing that this situation had confused them all greatly.

Eventually, the orange earth pony spoke. "Why are there five of these bipedal things that look like us?"

"I could ask the same, just the other way around," Sunny replied. "Is your name Sunny Starscout by any chance?"

"Yes, funnily enough," the pony said. "And these are my friends. "Izzy Moonbow, Hitch Trailblazer, Zipp Storm, and Pipp Petals."

"Those are our names as well!" Izzy said, amazed. "Maybe there really are alternate worlds beyond our own which have their own crazy things within them! I must investigate further!"

"Let's focus on getting out of this one first in one piece," Hitch said, checking to see if anybody else was there.

"So, how did you get here?" Pony Pipp asked.

"We fell through a portal and ended up at a place called Knapford," Zipp explained. "Then this deformed thing chased us to here. Luckily, Gordon helped us escape."

"We had a similar experience," Pony Izzy said. "That was groovy. Almost like the time we were all talking in gobbledegook!"

"Maybe we shouldn't go into too much detail about that one," Pony Hitch added.

"Nothing some money, nothing some Swiss, eh Sunny?" Pony Zipp said, with a mirthful grin on her face.

Sunny went bright red and hid her face in her hooves. "Just... stop."

"I feel as though we've drifted off topic," Zipp said. "If we're going to escape from this place, we need to figure out how we're going to escape. And I guess that means we need to learn how this place ended up the way it is."

Sunny turned to Gordon. "How did this place end up the way it is?"

Gordon sighed. "Well, Sodor wasn't always the realm of madness it seems to be now. A long time ago, it was a land where the sky was so blue, a storybook land of wonder you could say. Myself and the engines worked hard, enjoying adventures and seeing the world around us. It wasn't the most action packed or exciting of lives, but to us it was fulfilling and full of meaning. And that mattered greatly to us, because we wouldn't have it any other way."

"Then the Emperor and his men came. They took over the Island, and started to make changes, forcing the islanders to work for them and rebuild this place in the Emperor's image. The Emperor is a vain and cruel man, obsessed with his own personal image. Anybody who dares to disagree with him is sent away from the Island, never to return." Gordon closed his eyes and sighed. "I am sorry to say many of my former friends were affected by him and were distorted by the power of his Empire, which is why they look and sound the way they do now. Even I was never totally immune to their powers."

Sunny looked sad. "The whole place has gone to pot," she said. "It would break dad's heart to know that this has happened."

"You're dad's alive?" Pony Sunny asked.

"Why wouldn't he be?" Sunny replied, before realising what Pony Sunny was implying. "Oh. I'm sorry for your loss."

"It's OK," Pony Sunny replied. "It was a long time ago."

"Well, any news on how we're going to escape?" Hitch asked, before receiving an elbow. "Ow!"

"Way to ruin the mood, Hitch," Zipp said.

"Why don't we use those boxes on wheels over there?" Pony Izzy suggested. "We can hide in them and get to wherever we need to go without being noticed."

"On that note, a portal just opened at Brendam Docks," Pony Zipp said, looking at something on a pair of goggles whilst hovering above the ground. We'll need to move fast if we're going to get back home."

"Those are reefers," Gordon said. "This plan is crazy enough to work, so I say we do it."

The crew piled into the reefers and Gordon coupled up. With a blast of his whistle, he was on his way to Brendam Docks. Nobody knew of the chaos that awaited them.

Harold the Helicopter flew overhead, a powerful searchlight shining down on the ground. "No sign of them sir. This campsite was vacated a long time ago."

"Deploy a ground team to get traces," the Emperor replied. "If we get lucky, we'll be able to figure out which direction they were headed."

"Wait a moment, sir!" Harold called. "I can see steam heading in the direction of Brendam Docks. That must be them!"

"Brendam Docks, eh?" the Emperor laughed. "The only engine that can intercept them is Kana. I shall dispatch her immediately with some soldiers. Resume your pursuit, but maintain a good distance. We cannot afford to be spotted."

"Roger, wilco!" Harold replied.

After what felt like several hours of travel, Gordon pulled up in Brendam Docks, hiding behind a warehouse to ensure our heroes couldn't be spotted. "We have arrived. You now need to try and get across the dockside without being spotted. I can't get any further as the buffers are here, and the yard is blocked with trucks right now. Good luck."

The others piled out and made their way across the dockside. Pony Zipp and Pipp had taken to the skies to serve as aerial spotters. "Stop! Brown box incoming!"

A small tram engine rattled across the pointwork, a number 7 painted on his side.

"No," Sunny whispered. "Not Toby too!"

"The way is clear," Pony Pipp said. "Move to the next building and stop."

They crossed over the line as gently as they could, and stopped behind the next building. They peered round the next corner to see a pair of cranes talking.

One was big, green, and tall. The other was a rail based creation, but didn't look as though anybody had thought the design through. "That thing looks like what would happen if a first year engineering student got drunk one night and went crazy with blueprint software," Zipp said.

"I'm not an engineer, but that crane does look very top heavy," Pipp noted.

"Well, Carly, that looks to be another load onto the dockside," the big green crane said. "Thanks for helping."

"No problem," 'Carly' replied. "Loading these ships is fun!"

Pony Sunny did a double take and looked back at her friends. "Why does that yellow crane sound exactly like me?"

"I have an idea," Hitch said. "You can pretend to be them and drive the other engines off!"

Pony Sunny coughed and spoke. "Hey friends! There's a box of peanuts for us to deliver to Whistly Woods! Last one there is a baked potato!"

It worked. Several engines (and the large crane) charged past and out of the dockside.

Pony Sunny groaned and put a hoof to her head. "I hope that worked. I can feel my braincell count decreasing by the second."

They dashed across a now very empty dockyard, and arrived at the portal. "Well, here we are," Pony Zipp said. "It was nice knowing you guys, but-"

"Stop right there!" shouted a voice, as a purple electric engine pulled up, and several men got out of the coaches. One of them was a bald man in a black suit. "You have all caused confusion and delay. They must be captured so nobody can learn of us!"

Pony Pipp looked at her sister. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

The two pegasi flew up into the air and roared down on the men, who scattered in fear as the two creatures flew down.

"HERE'S ONE FROM WINGS!" Zipp called, as they pulled out of the dive.

"Wings?" Izzy asked.

"Wonderful Institute for No Gravity Skywalking," her pony counterpart replied. "Please try to keep up with the acronyms."

They took this as a beeline for the portals, and jumped into their respective ones based on the image showed on the other side. They timed it well, as they closed shortly after the last of them went through.

The portal within the house began to shudder as it ejected five teenage girls through it and into the corridor beyond. They landed in several different spots within the room, and sat up as the world gradually returned to them.

"Did any of that really happen?" Sunny asked. "Because it all feels like one crazy fever dream."

"I remember it too," Izzy said. "Man was that crazy though. Who knew there were pony counterparts of us? Crazy world, huh?"

"This merits further research," Zipp said, scribbling down another note on her notepad.

"Maybe I could create a song based on it," Pipp smiled. "I can feel the creative juices flowing."

"Oh, there you are!" Lady Haven said, popping round the corner. "I was wondering where you had been. What happened?"

Zipp shook her head. "Mom, you wouldn't believe us even if we told you."

"We're lost, aren't we?" Hitch asked. "This looks nothing like anywhere I've been."

"There's something of Zephyr Heights to the place," Pipp sighed. "I still can't get any signal around here."

"Maybe we should ask for directions?" Sunny asked, glancing at her compact. "This doesn't seem to be working either. I need to change the batteries."

"Then we're heading the right way," Zipp said, hovering in the sky. "My goggles are detecting a lot of people around here."

"Erm, Zipp?" Izzy asked. "If this is Zephyr Heights... why is there a giant panda over there?"

Author's Note

This chapter is a follow-up to Topsy-Turvy. The title is a reference to a notoriously bad public information film about the dangers of marijuana consumption. However, the producers failed to do any research on the actual effects of the drug, which produces a hilariously innacurate film. In this case, a 'reefer' is a type of freight vehicle for transporting goods, and seeing as the world of AEG feels like a fever dream the comparison seemed fitting.

Undoubtedly, many of you are already aware that Sunny Starscout (in MYM and TYT) and Carly (in AEG) are both voiced by Jenna Warren, so that joke was rather inevitable. On the note of Carly, like the majority of AEG characters she would struggle to stay on the rails if any sorts of real world physics applied.

We shall resume normal programming tomorrow.

Finally, in case the last bit makes no sense; Maitreyi Ramakrishnan voices the character of Priya Mangal in the Pixar film Turning Red. Truly is voice acting a small world, eh?

Salty Gets it Wrong

As was normal on a morning, Falmouth Docks rang to the sound of industry. Ships were loaded with cargo for places far away, and fresh goods being taken to other places further inland was placed on the dockside, ready to be loaded onto wagons for goods trains to places far away.

Porter had been at work so far, moving most of the wagons, when Salty rattled onto the dockside. "Ahoy, Porter!" he called. "Having fun?"

"It's been quite hard going, to be honest," Porter admitted. "Seriously, where have you been?"

"Got a bit of a late start," Salty replied. "Sunny got out of the wrong side of bed... figuratively and literally, if you know what I mean."

"I thought her bed was pushed up against the wall," Izzy said.

"Not anymore it isn't, it seems," Porter laughed.

Sunny rolled down Salty's window. "Just stop," she said, a frown on her face. "I'm not in the mood. So stow it."

Izzy frowned too. "Yikes. She's in a foul mood."

"You can say that again," Porter replied.

"She's in a-"

"Not literally."

Salty rattled to work. "What a lovely morning. It reminds me of the day that the Giant Squid of Southampton arrived. Huge, he was. With tentacles longer than skyscrapers and eyes bigger than entire houses!"

He stopped when he noticed Sunny still seemed to be fuming. "You may want to remove that frown. If old Cap'n Stormio blows through, your face may get stuck!"

"You do realise that Captain Stormio is a personification of stormy weather rather than a literal person, don't you Salty?" Sunny replied. "Besides, it's not scientifically possible for wind to jam a person's facial muscles."

"Neither is it possible for a girl to sprout translucent wings and glow," Porter added, "and yet you seem to do it!"

This interjection didn't help, unfortunately. Sunny's mood only seemed to worsen at that.

Later, a member of dockside staff arrived with some news. "We're in a bit of a pickle here," he admitted. "We've got a pickup goods to take from here to Truro, but Charles has broken down and Sophie is elsewhere. We'll need one of you to handle this."

"I'll do it!" Salty said. "A nice run up the coast will be perfect to stretch my sea wheels. Besides, I have a new shanty I want to try with the trucks."

"Oh joy," Sunny said to herself. "Trucks."

The trucks were being awkward, as usual. "Oh look!" one shouted. "A big red box on wheels is here to pull us! What a lark!"

Sunny glared at the truck as she coupled Salty up. "Shut up," she growled. "I'm not in the mood for you lot acting like idiots."

The truck looked shocked. "What's gotten into her?"

"Forget Sunny, maybe we should call her stormy!" a van laughed.

Sunny ignored them as she got into the cab and shifted the throttle forward- much more aggressively than she normally did.

"Careful!" Salty called. "We're limited to fifteen miles an hour down here!"

There was no reply from the cab.

"Oh dear," Salty sighed. "Whatever has gotten her in such a mood?"

Shunting at Penmere went smoothly, with the required stock being left behind and new trucks added. Before long, the train set off once again for Truro, the trucks rattling along in front of Salty (as he was running backward).

Salty decided to try lightening the mood by singing a bit.

"You will have a fishy on a little dishy,
You shall have a bloater when the boat comes in."

"You will have a fishy on a little dishy,
You shall have a bloater when the boat comes in!" the trucks replied.

"That trick always keeps them in line," Salty smiled.

The approaches to Penrhyn from Penmere consist of two hills. The first sees a train going downhill, and the other sees the train going uphill. A clever driver can use the first hill to get up enough speed to clear the second one, and the second to slow down before entering the station.

Unfortunately, Sunny took it too fast and rocketed into the second hill going rather quickly. Truth be told, she wasn't concentrating and seemed preoccupied with something. And disaster was about to strike.

Several items of rolling stock that they needed to shunt and move had been placed in the platform for them. And the points had been set wrong. Salty slammed into them at about 20 miles an hour, derailing himself, the new wagons, and the ones he was pulling.

The crash jolted Sunny out of her lack of concentration, and her face shifted from one of annoyance to one of horror. "Trevithick preserve us."

After she had telephoned for a rescue train, she sat down and put her head in her hands. "This is all my fault. I'm so, so sorry."

"What's goin' on?" Salty asked. "You don't seem to be yourself today."

"It doesn't matter what I was mad about," Sunny replied. "It was something stupid. And now we're in a mess because I can't keep my emotions in check!"

"Sunny," Salty said, his face now an understanding smile. "We all have bad days, and we all get mad about silly little things. When I was younger and painted green, I once had a right old row with a fellow shunter at Portsmouth."

"What happened?" Sunny asked.

"We eventually made up. I must find out how he's getting on. I believe he's at Barrow Hill these days." Salty paused. "What's important is how we make up from our mistakes. And at the end of the day, we are all bound on the same journeys." He smiled as he indicated to the trucks. "How about that one about Cornwall to cheer our friend up?"

"Of course!" called the trucks. And they collectively began to sing.

"I’ve stood on Cape Cornwall in the sun’s evening glow,

On Chywoone Hill at Newlyn to watch the fishing fleets go.

Watched the sheave wheels at Geevor, as they spun around,

And heard the men singing as they go underground.

And no one will ever move me from this land!

Until Ruston calls me to sit at his hand!

For this is my Eden, and I’m not alone.

For this is my Cornwall and this is my home!"

At the end of the day, Sunny and Izzy sat in Sunny's kitchen as the sun began to set. "Thanks for rescuing us," Sunny said. "I really do appreciate it, given I was pretty rude to you and Porter.

"One and all, Sunny," Izzy replied. "That's the motto of Cornwall. We all get up on the wrong side of bed some days, and it's OK to not be happy and cheery all the time."

The oven beeped, and Sunny took a tray out of the oven. "Perfect! Fresh batch of scones on the go!" She placed the tray on the countertop and popped two on two different plates, and then moved the plates to the table. "Careful, they're hot!"

Izzy grinned. "Thanks for the cream tea, Sunny!"

"I thought it a fitting way to make up for how I acted earlier," Sunny admitted. "Cream and jam are on the table."

Izzy buttered her scone, and then put her knife in the cream. She glanced up to see Sunny looking at her. "Yes?"

"Other way round. Jam, then cream."

Izzy laughed. "Still getting used to that!"

Author's Note

This story is loosely based on the TTTE Episodes 'Thomas Makes a Mistake' and 'All At Sea', with some plot elements taken from the 2022 film One and All.

The sea shanties in the lyric are authentic Cornish folk songs. Finally, the ending references one of the oldest debates surrounding cream tea.

In Cornwall, it is tradition to put jam (jelly to Americans) then cream on the scone. In Devon, the tradition is to do it the other way round. This is a very quick way of establishing whether somebody from the West Country is from Cornwall or Devon.

Fisherman's Friends

"Where is it?" Sunny asked, rifling through the drawers in her room in a panic. "Where is it?"

The commotion was soon heard by the others in the house, and the door opened. "Sunny?" Goldie asked. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find it!" Sunny replied, currently in the process of turning her room upside down.

"Find what?"

"My lucky fisherman's friends box!" Sunny replied, not turning to her mother. "The one I always carry with me!"

Goldie facepalmed. "All of this over a box of cough sweets?"

"And the one that saved me from making a fool of myself at the music festival!" Sunny answered, growing ever more frantic.

"The first thing you need to do is calm down," Goldie informed her, "and then think rationally. Where was it when you last saw it?"

Sunny stopped, turned around, and began to think. "Wait... where was I when I last saw it. The docks! Of course! I can ask my friends if I saw it!"

"See?" Goldie smiled. "All it takes sometimes is being calm and thinking things through. If we panic we can't think straight."

"Thanks mom," Sunny replied. "I'll head into town and see if I can find it." With that, she exited through the door and downstairs.

Argyle popped his head around the door. "What's going on?"

"Sunny's misplaced her fisherman's friends," Goldie replied. "Apparently she always carries a specific box with her."

"Oh! The sweets," Argyle said. "I thought you meant her copies of their albums. Aren't they performing here tonight?"

"I wouldn't know," Goldie sighed. "I don't really keep an eye on which bands are performing in town."

Sunny skidded to a stop in the engine shed and saw her friends readying their respective charges. Charles was complaining about something, as was often the case.

"Do you know how long it takes the trains to get to Penzance?" he asked.

"No," Sophie replied. "Why would I?"

"Seven hours. You could go from London to New York in that time!"

"By train?" Rebecca asked.

"By plane, you stupid idiot!"

"Charles, that was uncalled for," Hitch said.

"Not my fault if somebody can't follow a conversation."

Sunny then spoke up to attract their attention. "Has anybody seen my fisherman's friends box?"

"Have you misplaced another of your CDs again?" Pipp asked. "Seriously, Sunny, go with the flow and put your music in the cloud. It's so much better for everybody."

"I don't mean the band!" Sunny said. "I meant my box of cough sweets. I've misplaced it."

Zipp nodded. "I haven't seen one lying about, but I'll keep an eye out for it." She clambered into Charles' cab and started his engine. After a few checks, the diesel moved off out of the shed and towards the station.

"Time to go shunting!" Salty called. "A fresh load of fish has arrived from the boats. I wonder if they'll have any fish fingers?"

Sunny's eyes lit up. "Of course! I'll ask there!"

As Salty rolled out of the shed, Porter looked over to Izzy. "Any clue as to what they're talking about?"

"Not really," Izzy said. "I prefer gobstoppers."

Salty rolled into the fish vans sitting on the dockside with a gentle bang, singing as he did so. "Hi ho, silver lining, and away you go!"

Sunny hopped out to check if the couplings were done correctly and noted they weren't. "Best get those hooked up whilst the fishermen load the train."

Sure enough, the fisherman, clad in their distinctive uniform of yellow rainwear and sporting an impressive range of facial hair, came up from the boats with boxes and cages in their hands.

"Quite the catch out there!" said one.

"Seems Neptune was generous today," said another, carrying quite a few lobsters.

Sunny walked over to them when the coupling was finished. "Good morning!" she said. "Have a good time out there?"

"Mornin', Sally," said the first. "And mornin', Salty!"

"Good mornin'!" Salty replied. "Shiver me cylinders! That's a lot of fish!"

"It's a bumper haul," admitted the second. "Good to see you out enjoyin' the sun, me darlin'."

Sunny nodded. "Hey, have any of you seen any fisherman's friends boxes around here? I've misplaced mine."

Another sailor produced a box of bait. "This what you're looking for?"

"Not quite," Sunny replied. "As in the cough sweets."

"Oh," said the fishermen in unison.

"Well," continued the first, "I always carry some, but I haven't seen any boxes around here. But if I see any I'll let you know."

Sunny nodded. "Thanks. Well, when you're done loading, I'll get this to marshalling yards and get them to the cities for delivery."

Once loading was completed, Salty called out. "Shall we give a chorus of John in the Barrel?"

"Fantastic idea!" called one of the fish vans. "Look sharp, me lads!"

As Salty moved off, he led them off.

"Down, down, and down he dived/
John in the Barrel went over the side!
Will he ever come back up alive?
Haul him up for air, boys!

"Down, down, and down he dived/
John in the Barrel went over the side!
Hold your breath and enjoy the ride!
Gonna be a millionaire, boys!"

The day eventually turned into afternoon, and Salty had just finished shunting in the yard when the foreman ran over. "There's been a breakdown on the road between Falmouth and Penmere, and the roads are blocked. A minibus is blocking the road, and the passengers need conveying from the station to Falmouth. Can you get some coaches and take them to Falmouth?"

"We won't let you down, sir!" Sunny called, and took Salty off to collect some coaches. Once they had been recovered the pair set off up the line, coming to a stop at the station.

"Get on quickly please!" Salty called, as a group of people got onboard, conversing in an unusual language.

As Salty was running round, he asked Sunny a question. "What language was that?"

"I think it was Cornish," Sunny replied. "I don't speak it very well myself as I only started learning it last year, but I'm keen to practice."

Once Salty was hooked up to the other end, Sunny blasted his horn, and they got on their way.

After a relatively easy run down the hill, the passengers disembarked as Sunny got onto the platform.

"Well, that was an interesting journey, eh Lefty?" said one of the men.

"I've had more straightforward journeys from Port Isaac, I'll admit," 'Lefty' replied. "But I'll tell you this, Jeremy, that was about as exciting as our journey to Glastonbury."

Sunny's jaw dropped. "Salty, do you know who we rescued?" she asked.

"People?" Salty suggested.

"The Fisherman's Friends!" Sunny exclaimed. "They're performing here tonight, and we got them here!"

'Jeremy' turned around and walked over to the engine. "So, you and your diesel got us here, eh?" he asked.

"Yes sir!" Sunny replied. "It was an honour to help. No, seriously, you're my favourite folk band. Can I have your autograph?"

"Of course, my darling," Jeremy replied, and took out a piece of paper. "But I've heard of the singing shunter of Falmouth. Salty, isn't it?"

"Of course, Mr..." Salty paused.

"Jeremy Brown."

"Of course, Mr Brown," Salty said. "One and All, after all!"

"A Cornish engine through and through," said one of the other men.

"If ever you want to join us for a round of singing, just let us know," Jeremy said. "Come on, lads! We've got a concert to do!"

That evening, the people of Falmouth gathered on the harbour front to hear the Fisherman's Friends.

"Good evening, Falmouth!" called Jeremy. "It's an honour to be performing here tonight. But we nearly didn't make it, were it not for the work of two individuals. Give it up for Salty the diesel engine and Miss Sunny Starscout!"

The dockside erupted in applause as people glanced at Sunny, who waved back. "I only did my part!"

"And so, we dedicate this first song to the people we meet in life. No matter what your trade or interests, we are all equally special in our own way!"

A guitar and light percussion began as they started to sing.

For all the small people, and the tall people/
For the dispossessed and the observers!
For all the broken-hearted, and the recently departed/
For the unwashed and the unheard.

"Mother Nature don't draw straight lines/
The broken moulds in a grand design!
We look a mess but we're doing fine/
We're card carrying lifelong members/
Of the union of different kinds!"

Izzy sat down next to Sunny as she handed her a box. "Here you go. I found this in Porter's cab on the floor. You must have dropped it when heading home yesterday."

Sunny grinned. "Thanks so much, Izzy!"

"It's what friends are for, Sunny," Izzy smiled, as they began to sway back and forth.

"Come on everybody, join in with the chorus!" the assembled Fisherman's Friends called.

"Mother Nature don't draw straight lines/
The broken moulds in a grand design!
We look a mess but we're doing fine/
We're card carrying lifelong members/
Of the union of different kinds!"

And nowhere was that sentiment more true than in Falmouth harbour.

Author's Note

The core plot of this story is loosely based on an episode of Bluestone 42, a BBC sitcom about a British Army unit in Afghanistan. It also takes elements from the My Little Pony episode Lesson Zero, and the Thomas and Friends special Thomas and the Royal Engine, which I previously adapted in one of my earlier collections.

Seeing as they've been brought up a fair bit up to this point, it only seems fitting to bring on the Fisherman's Friends, once marketed as Britain's oldest boy band (their combined age exceeds 600). The song at the end, 'Union of Different Kinds', was part of the set they performed at Glastonbury in 2011.

The next tale, you'll be glad to hear, will not focus on Sunny and Salty.

Hector the Horrid

Truro is home to a small goods yard which processes local supplies for the city. Once, it was handled by whatever engines were in the region at the time, but this was inneficient as it meant there were long periods where the trucks were not sorted out. All of this changed when Brookes was rescued. He is allocated to this yard, and is very good at his job.

"Not to different to the old chemical works, this!" he said, as several trucks rolled to a stop in a siding.

Argyle leaned out of his cab. "You're very good at keeping these trucks in line," he said. "Often they are silly."

"The old chemical tankers wouldn't dare be silly," Brookes replied. "One wrong move and we could all get blown up!"

There was a blast of a horn, and a very small diesel with six driving wheels and a rear mounted cab rattled to a halt. He was painted blue, with British Railways' 'Arrows of Indecision' painted upon his bodywork. He even had a five digit number upon him.

"Nice place, this," he said, as he took note of his new surroundings. "Makes a change from urban Essex."

"Have we met before?" Brookes asked.

"Don't believe so," the diesel replied. "My name's Nigel. I've been sent to help you with your work up here."

Brookes scoffed. "Help me? I can handle this place fine on my own."

"Time will tell," Nigel said, as a person leaned out of his cab.

"Hello there," she said. She was a woman with bluish skin and purply hair, all hung rather chaotically along her face. Her eyes were reddish orange and seemed quite intense. In addition to her jacket and pants she was wearing a red beret.

"I see Jack Keroac has joined us," Argyle joked.

"It's Onyx, not Jack," the woman replied. "I'm a poet in my spare time, but Keroac is one of my favourite writers. His approach is writing, not typing, after all."

"Shall we get to work?" Nigel asked. "No use sitting about here and talking all day."

After half an hour of shunting, work quietened down for a bit, and the two engines got to talking.

"Did you see that boat?" Nigel asked.

"Boat?" Brookes asked in confusion. "Boats don't normally come up this far. They go to Newham.

"No. Boat. It's an acroynm. Bit off a Tractor." His eyes glanced over to a buffer nearby. "That came off a Class 37. I imagine you didn't know that acronym."

"No, 'cause you just made it up," Brookes countered.

"Fresh delivery incoming!" called Argyle, as he saw Sophie rattling into view pulling a long line of hoppers.

"I don't know what the world is coming to!" Sophie said, as she rolled to a stop in the goods loop. "These trucks are something else!"

"Were they giving you trouble?" Onyx asked.

"They weren't half giving me trouble!" Sophie answered. "Especially that large one at the back!"

Their attention was drawn to a gigantic hopper attached to the train. It was so large it was mounted on two bogies, and was much taller than any model of truck they had ever seen. The sides were held up by metal rods, and the truck was scowling.

"He doesn't seem like a happy customer," Argyle commented.

"Tell me about it!" Pipp added. "I'll need a shower after all this with all the dust he's been throwing about!"

"Perhaps don't wear designer clothes whilst driving, then!" Nigel joked, and the rest of the yard burst out laughing.

"Whatever, he's your problem now," Pipp replied, as she uncoupled the train and reboarded Sophie's cab. Before long, she was back on her way down the line.

"Right, let's get this lot sorted out," Brookes said.

They sorted the coal trucks at the front of the train, who seemed to be worried. "Big, bad, strong and torrid! That truck's name is Hector Horrid!" they said.

Onyx rolled her eyes. "Your poetry needs some serious work. Torrid isn't even a real word."

"Well, I needed something to rhyme with horrid, didn't I?" said the first truck.

"Poetry doesn't need to rhyme to be poetry," Nigel said, unhelpfully.

Eventually, they got to the big hopper, who by process of elimination they figured out to be Hector.

The truck continued to scowl at them. "Keep away if you know what's good for you," he said.

"Should we move him?" Brookes asked.

"What sort of a question is that?" Argyle asked. "If he's sat there, goods trains can't get onto the siding and drop off the trucks we need. We'll have to move him."

Brookes advanced closer to Hector, who seemed to still be displeased.

"Are you deaf? Back up and keep away."

Brookes decided to try diplomacy. "If this line stays blocked by you, other trains can't get in. This will prevent other goods from being delivered."

"Don't know, don't care," Hector replied.

Something inside Brookes snapped. Before anybody could react he charged towards Hector with incredible speed, knocking him clean off the rails.

There was a momentary silence. Then Nigel spoke. "That was about the worst way you could have handled that one."

Later that day, a crane came up to clean up the mess and get Hector back onto the rails. Luckily, no other freight trains had been required to access the yard, and Hector wasn't too badly damaged in the crash.

But Brookes felt awful. "What a mess," he said. "Yes, he was being rude, but my response wasn't exactly proportionate to the situation."

Hector also didn't seem to be his previous self, and had spotted a familiar face. "Is that you, Nigel?" he asked.

"I didn't recognise you at first," Nigel admitted, "but now I do recognise you. What brought you all the way down here?"

"You know him?" Brookes asked.

"He's an ICI hopper, designed to transport limestone. I knew him when I was an ICI engine myself, allocated to Tunstead in the Peak District. But what is causing you to act this way?"

Hector sighed. "I figured it didn't matter whether I made a good impression or not. Whenever I arrive in a new place, I always get moved on within a few weeks anyway. Probably won't be long until they scrap me anyway."

"Change is often scary," Onyx admitted. "But that doesn't give an excuse to be mean to others. We're all marching into the light, burning, burning light the intense light of the sun whilst the sky dances with fireworks of joy and we shuffle from our place of rest onwards into the day."

There was a moment's silence. "I take it that took a lot of practice."

"Nope, just made it up on the spot."

After all that was cleared up, things returned somewhat to normal at the yard, with the engines and trucks working together well. And they all learned an important lesson that day. If something is a problem, it never hurts to speak your mind and tell others how you feel.

Author's Note

This story is based on the TTTE Episode of the same name. However, the plot has been adjusted to remove a plot hole present in the original story. In the original, Hector states he has never been filled with coal, but when he is first introduced he is filled with coal.

Hector is a hopper built by Imperial Chemical Industries, or ICI for short, for shifting limestone from quarries to ICI chemical and explosive plants in bulk. Today, ICI is a division of AkzoNobel, a Dutch chemical conglomerate.

Nigel is a British Railways Class 04 diesel locomotive, one of the first mass-produced diesel shunter models in Britain. In terms of backstory, he is based on D2229, which spent many years allocated to a colliery. His personality is based on the character of Lance from Detectorists, a character protrayed by Toby Jones.

Has Anybody Seen my Lamp?

When somebody phones you at seven in the morning, it's never good news.

At least, this is what Zipp always thought. She normally got up early in the morning (unlike her sister) as she found she worked best at that time. Her alarm was always set to go off at precisely seven in the morning.

So, imagine her surprise when both her phone and alarm went off at the same time. "That funny," she said. "I don't usually get calls at this time of day."

She picked up the device to see who was calling. And to her surprise, it was Sunny. "That's weird. She's not usually up until seven thirty." She flicked the green button to one side and raised the earpiece to her ear. "Hello?"

"Zipp, have you seen my lantern anywhere?" Sunny asked.

"The one Izzy made you?" Zipp replied.

"Yes! That one! I normally keep it on my bedside table so I can easily turn it on if I need to go to the bathroom at night. But it was there last night and it isn't there now!"

A sneaking suspicion was starting to move in Zipp's mind. "It wasn't there last night, you say," she said to herself. "Certain your parents didn't move it?"

"I've already asked them, and they say they haven't. They were asleep all night."

"Watertight alibis," Zipp said, producing her clipboard and scribbling something down. "This means that the lantern has been taken... stolen... and somebody is responsible!"

"Isn't that rather obvious? Objects don't normally steal themselves."

"Doesn't matter. The first few hours after a crime are critical for finding clues. Make sure nothing is moved inside your house until I arrive. I'll be bringing some equipment to help with this case."

"Got it. Good luck!"

Zipp hit the red button and ended the call. "Time for me to do some sleuthing," she said. "But after I've had a shower."

She hit a button on the wall and switched off the light, and after a few minutes emerged clad in a black bodysuit with an array of gadgets mounted on the arms. She walked over to a table and pulled a pair of white goggles off a model and mounted them over her head.

"No time to wait! Duty calls!" She dashed out of the door, and down the stairs.

Pipp stuck her head out of the door and groaned. "Seriously, who plays the Mission Impossible theme at this time in the day?"

Being super sneaky, and making use of a grappling hook to try and avoid detection, Zipp arrived at Sunny's home in next to no time. Or what felt like next to no time.

She quickly opened the door and stepped through to reveal Sunny on the other side. "The place has been left untouched as you asked."

"Thanks," Zipp said, and clicked a button on her arm. A small drone hovered into the air and began to fly about, scanning the terrain. "Right, I'll need to go and take some samples, then analyse the floor and surfaces for DNA, and hopefully we shall then have found our culprit."

"If you say so," Sunny said, and stepped out of the way. No sooner had she stepped out of the door then Pipp arrived. "Oh, hey Pipp! What are you doing up so early?"

"Well, I had to end Zipp's reckless use of diagetic music," Pipp said. "No way we were going to sleep with that racket on. But what I really want to know is why Zipp rushed off so early in the morning."

"My lantern has gone missing and Zipp suspects it's been stolen."

"She's been watching too many spy movies recently," Pipp sighed, and began to walk towards the door.

"Don't come in!" Zipp called. "If you enter, you could contaminate the crime scene with your DNA!"

"An actual mystery?" Pipp asked. "Interesting. Can I help?"

"No need, this is all under control," Zipp replied as she peered at the door. "No sign of forced entry to either doors or windows, and the shutters are secure."

Pipp nodded. "Well, I should probably leave this to you. After all, you have it all under control. Have fun!"

Zipp rolled her eyes. "That sing song thing she does is super annoying."

Pipp strolled down the path away from the lighthouse, humming to herself before spotting the perfect chance to take a selfie with the cliffs in the background. She then walked onwards, and shortly before reaching the shed-

"Look out!"

Pipp tripped over something and smacked face first into the ground. "Ouch! What in the-"

She rolled over and noticed a paving stone seemed to have been disturbed. "Ooh. What happened to the pathway?"

"I don't know," Porter said. "It was like that this morning. I can only assume the council don't have the money to fix the issue."

"Typical local authority," Charles grumbled. "No doubt they did it to prevent us from going about our business at speeds we want to travel at."

"In a dockyard with tight curves? Fast?" Salty chuckled. "You're pullin' my leg, matey."

Pipp brushed some dust off her dress, then walked back over to the stone and lifted it out. Her eyes widened when she saw it. "It's Sunny's lantern!"

"How did it get there?" Ray asked.

"Beats me," Sophie added. "Who was on night watch?"

Pipp smiled. "Well, that solves that one. I can return it to Sunny and this will be over." Then she frowned. She remembered that Zipp seemed to be having the time of her life being a detective or spy or whatever it was, and her fun would end if she just returned it.

A smile crept once more across her face. "Of course! I'll hide it somewhere else and leave some clues for Zipp to find it! There's no way this can go wrong!"

As she sprinted off, Porter glanced over to Ray. "Have you seen Izzy anywhere? She's normally here by now."

Izzy suddenly had a very bright light shone into her face. "Hey! That's not good on a person's eyes. Where are we, anyway?"

"Doesn't matter," said her interrogator, whom she quickly figured out was Zipp. "I found traces of your fingerprints inside Sunny's house, and as you probably know she had a lantern stolen last night. As a result, I need to consider you as a suspect. Where were you last night?"

Izzy nodded. "Oh, I can explain. Let me just go into flashback mode..."

Izzy couldn't sleep. No matter what she tried, she couldn't nod off. "This sucks," she said. "Normally I sleep like a log. It's my cousin who's the light sleeper."

Just then she had an idea. "Time for some fruit tea," she said. "It can lure even the most awake of people to the gentle shores of the snoozy ocean."

She walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she switched on the kettle whilst trying to avoid making noise. She selected her favourite flavour and popped the tea bag into the mug whilst waiting for the water to boil.

Suddenly, a bright light shone across the street. "Huh?"

Izzy walked over to the window and looked out, suddenly spotting an engine stopping on the level crossing that controlled access to and from the coast road. A person suddenly jumped off the footplate and took something with them.

"That is seriously weird," Izzy said to herself, who then heard the familiar ding of the kettle boiling. She walked back over and poured it into the mug.

"Izzy?" a voiced suddenly asked.

Izzy jumped and swung round. "Err, yes dad?"

"What are you doing up in the middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep," Izzy explained, "so I decided to make some fruit tea but then this bright light and an engine appeared at the window!"

Isaac shook his head. "You probably just saw something. Drink that, then get back to bed."

Zipp nodded. "Well, that alibi seems watertight. But what about the engine?"

"You could check the roster of who was running during the night. Normally it's Bellerophon and Misty."

Zipp nodded. "Hmmm. I'm closing in."

Misty was acting weird. Well, weirder than normal. She seemed jittery as she wandered around the engine shed and looked for a path to take. Eventually, she stopped bumbling about and began to head for the exit.

Only for Zipp to suddenly jump in her way. "I know everything, Misty!"

"Know everything about what?" Misty replied.

"Don't play dumb with me, criminal scum," Zipp answered. "You violated the law when you took that lantern. Ever since that sleepover you've been behaving really weirdly. The odd questions, the strange reactions to normal food items, not knowing anything about basic pop culture. At first I brushed it off as nerves, but the evidence fits togther. You were out there last night at work, which gave you ample time to take it. Now where. Is. The. Lantern?"

Pipp suddenly ran in and separated the two. "Zipp, stop!"

"In the name of love?" Misty asked.

"So, you don't know several great songs, but you know that piece of rubbish. That makes perfect sense," Zipp sighed. "Out of my way, Pipp, I have a crook to apprehend." She produced a pair of handcuffs to make the point.

"I took it. I'm the lantern thief!" Pipp said.

Zipp went slack jawed. "What?"

"Well, I'm not a thief per se, but I've had it with me the whole day." Pipp produced it as evidence.

"That still doesn't explain anything about last night."

"Well," Pipp explained, "I found it underneath a paving stone when on my way to the shed, and was going to bring it to you and show it. But you were having so much fun with your detective work that I decided to create a little mystery for you. But it seems to have backfired somewhat."

Zipp rolled her eyes. "So I basically spent the entire day looking an idiot and accusing people of stuff they didn't do?"

"Err, yeah," Pipp admitted. "I definitely owe you an apology over that. But on the other hand you got to try out all that spygear I got you for your birthday! You got to be a real life Tom Cruise!"

"Ethan Hunt. The character's name is Ethan Hunt."

"Him too."

Zipp sighed. "Even considering all of this, I did have fun. So there's that. I think I can forgive you for sending me on a wild goose chase across Falmouth."

"Why not have a Snickers? You're not you when you're hungry."

The two siblings were so wrapped up in their conversation that neither of them noticed that Misty had snuck off in the confusion.

Misty activated her radio. "Agent ready to report."

"Well? Opaline asked. "Do you have the lantern?"

"No, it got mo-"

"YOU IMBECILE!" Opaline roared. "Can't you do anything right?"

"I- I buried it in a place I could easily find it again, but it got moved and-"

"I've had enough of your excuses. You have messed up one too many times. You are on your last chance, Misty. If you fail me again, there's an orphanage with your name on it."

Misty shook at the venom in Opaline's voice. "U- understood." As she switched the set off, she looked down at the floor. "For a woman who considers herself a fiery personality, she has the coldest heart of anybody in the world." And the world paid no heed as she quietly sobbed.

Author's Note

This chapter is loosely based on the MLP Episode 'Hoof Done It?', with elements added from various spy movie genres.

Zipp's spy gear is loosely inspired by equipment used by Ethan Hunt, the protagonist of the Mission Impossible film series. Her visor has been redesigned to fit onto a human face, inspired by this edit:

Pipp offering Zipp a Snickers is a nod to the 'Zipp after Chocolate' meme which did the rounds shortly before the movie came out:

https://twitter.com/g5mlp/status/1569604295137415170

Unfortunately, Fimfiction won't let me embed the image for some reason.

Lastly, I can't be the only one who find Opaline's treatment of Misty a little close to abuse, right?

No Hopers, Jokers, and Rogues

Work on the new Haven residence was proceeding apace, although the nomenclature was naturally causing confusion as to whether they were talking about a new home for the Haven family or a property in New Haven, Conneticut. Which was even more baffling as none of them owned property in North America. Anyway, it would not be soon until the place was fully kitted out for its dual purpose of being both a family home and a bed and breakfast when they were living in Swanage for the other half of the year.

At the end of one of these days, the family had gathered around the fire to relax a bit. "This is all looking pretty good, if I do say so myself," Lord Haven smiled, looking at the paintwork. "The white paint does blend well with all the items attached to the walls."

"Even if the deer head is a bit ghoulish," Zipp added. "I guess that hunting trophy was left there by a previous owner."

"Do you think it's haunted?" Pipp asked. "Because if it is, that'd be so cool."

"Hunting never was to my taste," Lady Haven admitted. "Probably because of our exploits in exotic parts of the world."

"This is news to me," Pipp said. "Where have you been?"

Lord Haven noted this. "Well, one of them occurred in the country I come from. As you know, I was born in South Africa and lived there for about twenty years. I met your mother there, actually."

"What were you doing there, mom?" Zipp asked.

"I was bored of all the landed family things and wanted adventure," Lady Haven replied. "May seem a bit hard to believe now, I know, but we had quite a lot of exciting adventures!"

"Could you tell us one?" Pipp asked. "PLEASE?"

"Of course!" Lord Haven said. "Now then, cast your mind back in time to the early 1990s. Back then, your mother and I were members of an organisation called the Saviours. Parts of the country had severe problems with scrap metal thieves, and myself and my friends put it upon ourselves to try and save as many steam engines as we could."

South Africa, 30 years ago...

Richard looked out of the cab of his engine as he backed it into the nearby yard. "Keep calling me back, Phil!" he called.

"Of course!" 'Phil' replied. 'Phil' was the nickname he used for Elizabeth, an aristocrat who had decided to travel out there to assist with rescuing steam engines. Quite how he'd gotten to Phil from that was a mystery.

"So, what are we rescuing today?" asked the engine Richard was driving. He was this gigantic red slab of a steam engine, with four leading wheels, eight driving wheels, and four trailing wheels. He had a high running board, with white trim, and a circular boiler with a round topped firebox and plate festooned in pipework. A pair of smoke deflectors adorned his smokebox. The tender was similarly massive, and carried plenty of oil and water.

"A Class 15," Richard replied. "One of your brothers, Pieter. Sadly, these blasted scrap thieves seem to think they're especially valuable."

Pieter replied in Afrikaans, a language which Richard could not speak. However, he could figure out from the tone that it was voicing frustration.

"Twenty feet!" Phil called.

"Right, here we go," Richard said, and rolled Pieter into the other engine with a bump as the couplers connected. He then jumped out to get the pipes connected up.

The other engine looked very similar to Pieter, but was painted black. He looked quite scared. "You're not here to take me to a scrapyard, are you?" he asked. "Because if you are, I'm not going."

"We're not," Phil told him. "Tell them that the Saviours are still out there."

The engine instantly looked relieved. "Thank Grubb," the engine replied. "I've been out here for days, not knowing if scrap thieves are in the area."

"Look sharp!" a man called. "Incoming trucks. They look like Toyotas. Probably scrap thieves."

Richard cursed under his breath and got the pipes engaged. "No time to waste! Get onboard and get ready to move!"

The trucks continued to approach as the final checks were made. Phil and the second man, who was armed, boarded the engine that was being towed as Pieter dug into the rails and began to shift the heavy load.

They rumbled onto the main line just in time, doing about forty miles an hour as the trucks drew level.

"They're alongside us!" Phill called down the radio.

"Keep them from getting close!" Richard replied. "If they board the footplate, you'll have a harder time driving them off. I'll try and get us some support."

Haven swung back and picked up a submachine gun before moving back to the other side of the cab. She aimed and fired at the tires on the lead vehicle, sending it flying into the air and crashing into a tree.

Unfortunately, more of their friends came in to support them, including one truck that had been fitted with a belt fed machine gun on the back. It opened fire as Phil and her ally ducked. Bullets bounced off the metalwork, but then again the intention was not to damage the engine. It was to keep heads down.

The other man readied his pistol. "Get ready. Prepare for boarding."

Phil nodded as the first man ascended the ladder. A well placed shot caused him to fall backwards and onto the ground.

More of them started the climb, but the top one fell on them and knocked them all to the floor.

At the front, a heavily armoured truck had drawn level with Pieter, armed to the teeth. A group of men clambered onto the top, equipped with blowtorches and various firearms. Their leader, a large, bald man, began issuing orders in Afrikaans.

"Get down!" Pieter called to Richard, who dived down as a deafening shot rang out. A bullet narrowly missed the controls and smashed a cab window.

"That was lucky!" Richard called.

The second was not so lucky. The round smashed into a pipe and blew it open.

"Oh no. We're losing steam pressure."

"Can you get us some support? A .50 cal is keeping us pinned back here!"

Richard grabbed the radio as best he could, trying to speak over the noise. "David, you there? We need support. Bring the chopper!"

"Understood. I'll be with you in a few minutes."

"We may not have that long!"

"Try to hold on as best you can."

The armoured truck drew closer, with one of them attempting to take swings at Pieter with his blowtorch. Luckily, he missed in all cases.

More weapons fire rang out as several more trucks appeared, each armed to the teeth.

"Barrett M82," Richard noted. "How did they get their hands on one of those?"

He chose to increase speed despite Pieter's steam leak.

"One of them is very close to my cylinder cocks!"

Richard responded by engaging the cylinder cocks, blasting the truck with steam and forcing it to pull away.

"Cavalry's arrived, boys."

Richard looked out of the cab as a helicopter arrived. It opened fire with twin miniguns, blasting the trucks with gunfire and rockets, designed to deal with lightly armoured vehicles.

Phil heard the noise as well as she punched another man off the second engine's footplate. The noise of the gunfire signalled the battle was almost over with the remaining trucks retreating.

"You should be safe now," she told the engine as they rattled away. "What's your name?"

"Nelson," the engine replied.

"That was quite the story!" Zipp said.

"I know," Lady Haven smiled. "We've had quite an exciting life, your father and I."

"Do either if those engines still exist?" Pipp asked.

"Yes indeed," Lord Haven nodded. "Pieter eventually ended up in the care of a friend of mine, who keeps him in a secure compound. The engine we rescued is now in a museum in Scotland, and we must visit him some day."

Lady Haven then got a beep to her phone, and smiled. "The dry cleaner says your clothes will be ready for pickup tomorrow, you two," she said.

"Thanks," Zipp said. "Here's hoping he doesn't mix them up again."

Author's Note

This chapter is loosely inspired by an incident I read about in Steam Railway a few years back, where a steam engine in South Africa was used to haul a classmate to safety owing to the threat of scrap metal thievery (scrap metal crimes are rife in the country, with not even the national museums being safe). Although I am aware Richard E. Grant is actually from Swaziland and not South Africa, Grant does have some Afrikaner ancestry; his real name is Richard Grant Esterhuysen.

The two steam engines are also real. Pieter is based on the SAR Class 26, also known as the Red Devil.

The other engine, Nelson, is an SAR 15F. A member of this class is exhibited at the Riverside Museum in Glasgow, as (like many engines in Africa) it was built in Britain. The character is named in honour of South African civil rights activist Nelson Mandela.

If there is sufficient interest, a trip to see them may be in order. But until next time, have a great day.

The Foolish Dry Cleaner

There were many things that Zipp found grand about the new home she and her family were renovating. The space was perfect for storing all her things, and the rooms were reasonably spaced, meaning she could finally escape from Pipp's snoring. Speaking of Pipp, that girl had converted one of the rooms into her personal walk-in closet to store all her various garments. In Zipp's view, the number of clothes her sister had was completely ridiculous.

Unfortunately, the house wasn't so with the times in other respects. For example, the property needed rewiring as the electrical systems in the existing house weren't up to code, and the plumbing could be better. That would need replacing as well. The biggest problem was also connected to clothing, however.

Back in the old days before washing machines made everybody's lives easier, people washed clothes by hand or by using mechanical appliances (or they paid somebody else to do it for them). As a result, the property had come with no washing machine, yet another thing they had to fit and install. And with the aforementioned water and electrical problems, this meant dirty laundry went to the dry cleaners.

And the most recent parcels were due back today. Zipp had been reusing the same clothes for a few days now, and although not a fashion addict like her sister the thought of something alternate to wear was quite appealing to her after a few days of the same shirt.

She was downstairs late in the evening when the first delivery arrived. She opened the door to see the agent from the cleaning company with a parcel.

"Clothing for a Miss Zara Storm?" he said.

Zipp nodded. "Yes, that's me." She tried to mask her annoyance over her parents using her real name on the order form... again. She took the parcel in her hand. "Is there another one?"

"There's been a slight delay, I'm afraid," the agent replied. "But the remaining parcels will arrive later today."

"Thanks for the delivery," Zipp smiled, and closed the door before hauling the package upstairs and placing it on her bed. "It'll be good to get this lot dealt with."

She tossed her existing clothes in the wash and got changed for bed before opening the parcel. And her heart sank when she did.

Inside were not her clothes. Inside the parcel were several dresses.

"Oh no."

In another room in the same property, Pipp was running a livestream. "Good evening, Pippsqueaks! I am totes excited to show you what just arrived in the mail today!"

She moved the parcel onto her bed, set back against the wall to leave space for her streaming equipment. "These just came back from the dry cleaners today! As you know, we don't have any space to wash and dry our own clothes yet- seriously, who builds a house with no electrical wiring?- and you'll get to see items of mine looking their very best!"

Without a moment's hesitation, she opened the packaging and took a look at what was inside.

"What are these? These aren't my dresses! What is going on?"

The next day came, and Zipp had no choice but to wear what had been in the parcel. As a result, she slipped one of the dresses on and added some tights to at least feel less silly. Her face was burning red with embarrassment as she made her way off to the engine shed that sat in the harbour.

A distance away, and completely unaware of the shenanigans going on, Pipp also exited the house to try and make her way down to the shed. She was just as embarrassed as her sister. Not to mention seriously uncomfortable. "Ow! Seriously, these jeans really dig into me! They're too tight as well!"

Not only that the shirt was seriously uncomfortable, and the entire ensemble looked ridiculous with her usual choice of boots. She staggered down the pathway, wobbling back and forth and eventually walking into a lamp post.

"Are you alright, miss?" a passerby asked.

"No! I'm in the wrong clothes!" Pipp protested. "The fewer people see me like this the better. I know! I'll apply a filter!"

Meanwhile, Zipp had just arrived at the engine shed. The engines reacted to this sight with a mixture of responses. "Embracing your feminine side?" asked Rebecca, quite jovially.

"No," Zipp replied, as she climbed Charles' cab steps. "Somebody mixed up my clothes at the dry cleaner with somebody else. Now I'm stuck in these all day, and trying to get around in this thing only reminds me even more why I hate wearing skirts."

"Still, could be worse," Charles said.

"How could this be worse?" Zipp asked, as she engaged the ignition key. Just then, she saw Pipp stumble into the depot, seemingly struggling to walk. "Wait a second. Hold here, Charles."

"I can't really go anywhere," Charles replied.

Zipp walked over to Pipp. "Those clothes look oddly familiar. Why are you wearing a pair of my jeans and a shirt?"

"I could ask the same question," Pipp retorted. "That's my favourite dress. You know, the one with the puffy skirt?"

"I know, I look an idiot."

"I feel an idiot, as these don't fit properly." Pipp sighed. "Should we go to the dry cleaner and get this mess sorted out?"

The clerk on the desk was most embarrassed when he learned what had happened. "Please do accept my apologies, ladies," he said. "We made a processing error and mixed up the parcels during cleaning. Your clothes were processed for cleaning, but it seems ended up the wrong way around. And I can see it's caused you a fair bit of trouble."

"You think?" Zipp said, indicating to the dress. "I look ridiculous!"

"And these don't fit properly!" Pipp added. "I've been walking like a sailor the entire day!"

"Aren't you two twins?" the clerk asked.

"Dizygotic," Zipp explained. "Means we have the same level of resemblance as normal siblings. And that doesn't mean we can swap clothes. We have different body shapes as well."

"Pray excuse my ignorance," the clerk said. "I'll see to it that the correct items are delivered to you."

"Well, seeing as the items are already at our house, we may as well do it ourselves," Pipp said. "Come on Zipp, we need to swap these over. Do you have a bathroom we can use?"

At the end of the day, after a massive sorting session, the two siblings were able to get back to work. Zipp, looking much more comfortable in her usual choice of clothing, fired Charles into life. "Time to get that stuff moved," she said.

She spotted Pipp at the edge of the town, streaming to her fans, and herself looking happier in her usual dress. "Hello Pippsqueaks!" she called. "We had such a crazy mixup earlier. Me and Zipp got our clothes muddled, and it was totes a mess."

Zipp shook her head. "I'll never understand all this internet speak she uses." She and Charles rattled away towards the station, when a thought suddenly went through her mind. "Wait, I know a better place for her to stream."

She brought the diesel to a stop and walked back. "Yo, Pipp?"

Pipp glanced up. "Hey, Zipp! Oh, if some of you new joiners don't know, this is my sister Zipp."

"I know a good place for you to stream from up on the coast," Zipp smiled. "I'll give you a lift."

Pipp grinned. "Thanks Zipp! Let's go!"

The pair set off with Charles as their chariot, brought together by their slightly odd bonding experience. True, siblings don't agree over everything, but at the same time there is nobody closer to you than your family.

Author's Note

This is an original story, based on a suggestion by Thomlight Sparkle. A bit of my personal experience is also worked in, as myself and my brother experienced such a mixup as well (made more awkward by the fact he's about eight inches taller than I am!).

Another element, which was also pointed out to me by Thomlight, is the possiblity that Pipp and Zipp are different body shapes. This also bears true in the show. Compare:

Pipp is noticably chubbier than her sister, which makes sense as Zipp is an athlete.

Portrait of a Crompton

"Good morning, Pippsqueaks!"

The familiar sound of Pipp starting a stream was clearly audible that morning. She walked through the corridors, not paying much attention to where she was going. "As you can see, we've nearly finished renovation in here, and you know what that means!"

She stopped and popped a pair of heart shaped glasses over her eyes before attaching what appeared to be a pearl necklace around her neck. "Mom's organised a super special portrait photoshoot to celebrate the achievement! Whoo!" She paused to catch her breath. "The sesh isn't until this afternoon, but you know I couldn't get ready without you guys! Any thoughts?"

Just then, the stream and tranquility was interrupted by the bellowing of a wild animal.

"PHILIPPA!"

Pipp walked through the corridors to her sister's bedroom and opened the door. "You called?"

Zipp stormed over to the door. "Where did you put my grey shirt?"

"Oh, that's in my wardrobe. I thought you might want to wear a dress today seeing as it's a formal event and-"

"The day I wear a dress is the day Hell freezes over. Now give it back- not encased in jelly this time!"

Pipp suddenly produced the shirt from Hammerspace and handed it to her. "I have no clue why she can wear that thing in this weather. Totally too hot for that sort of thing. What do you think?" She indicated to herself.

"Kinda busy, Pipp," Zipp replied, who went back to her clipboard. "Who was Awdry talking about? And what was Misty doing that night anyway? This whole thing doesn't add up."

"Come on, just a look for your little sis."

"We share the same birthday. We're exactly the same age, give or take a few minutes." Zipp suddenly spotted that Pipp was streaming. "Hey! This stuff is confidential!"

"I don't know what that means, but it sounds very long," said a voice from the stream.

Pipp shut off the stream. "Alright, alright. But what's got you so worked up?"

"I have no idea how you can be so focused on this portrait when there are still so many mysteries to solve. Such as that message from the Reverend Awdry. Who was he talking about? Or that story that Misty told at the sleepover? The two narratives contradict one another, which makes me suspicious. What if Misty is somehow connected to this threat that Awdry mentioned?"

"Misty?" Pipp scoffed. "Involved in an evil plot? Don't be silly. She's the sweetest thing in the entire world!"

"We're in danger, and you're still not taking it seriously!"

"We are in danger... of looking awful in a portrait that will hang on the walls of this home for the rest of time!" Pipp paused. "You're just stressed over all this. So here's a song that will lift your spirits!"

She produced a microphone, also from from nowhere, and began singing.

"Be still, don't move/
It's easy to smile with you by my side!
Don't-"

Zipp yanked the microphone out of her sister's hand. "No singing. This is not a musical."

Later that day, the three Havens had arrived at Mane Melody for a makeover in preparation for the photograph. Lady Haven seemed to be particularly precise about the arrangements this year. "The florist seems to have an abundance of roses this year. She asked me if I wanted the standard 24 inch variant or 23.5 this year! Naturally, I asked for both red and white in varying colours to avoid a pink rose! As you know, we have relatives on both sides of the Pennines, and I didn't want to annoy them..."

Zipp tuned her mother out as she droned on and on. She grabbed a cloth and removed the green substance from her face. "Yuck! What even is this stuff? And why have they put cucumbers over our faces?"

"And beige rather than white! What boring colours! Trying to give an opinion on whether I want white or beige is like trying to review vanilla ice cream or a cheap Citroen!"

Zipp had an idea, continuing her family's remarkable ability to produce objects from nowhere by placing a pair of headphones over her mother's ears. "How about some calming music, mom?"

Haven smiled. "Thank you, dear."

Zipp leaned over to Pipp. "Hey, Pipp? Wanna ditch this thing with me?"

"Absolutely not!" Pipp replied, her face covered in green stuff and cucumbers. "Unlike you I actually like to look my best. It's my favourite thing, apart from streaming, spooky stories, and selfies!" She then snapped several to make her point.

Zipp rolled her eyes and got out of her chair just as Sunny walked in. "Hey Sunny. That timing was incredibly convenient."

"I wanted to ask Lady Haven when she wanted the decorations delivered," Sunny replied.

"How well can you imitate me?" Zipp asked.

Sunny halted for a moment, and then did something that sounded like Zipp... except in every detail. "Is that a mystery over there? I need to solve it!"

"OK, scratch that plan," Zipp replied. "Looks like I'm stuck suffering through what is possibly the most boring day of my life." Suddenly, her phone was barraged with Facebook Messenger requests, all full of selfies. "Really, Pipp? You don't need to send these to me! I'm just across the room from you."

An email suddenly arrived, arriving from Misty. Just saw this near the old tin mine in Perranwell. Thought you'd be interested.

Zipp opened the attachment, and was amazed at what she saw. "Can it be?" she asked. "I haven't seen one of those in years."

She walked over to Pipp and showed it. "Wouldn't this be perfect for the portrait?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Pipp replied. "Of COURSE it would be! I haven't seen one of those in years! They rarely bloom! Who sent you this?"

"Misty saw it while hiking near Perranwell," Zipp explained. "If we set off now, we can get it and be back before anybody notices."

"On that note... how are we gonna prevent mom from noticing?"

"Got it all covered," Zipp said. "Hey, Sunny? We're gonna take a break from portrait day stuff for a bit, so can you distract mom for a bit?"

"What method would you suggest?"

"Keep the cucumbers flowing and she won't even notice."

Charles and Ray pulled up at Perranwell station (Sophie was out for repairs). They seemed to be in a conversation.

"No, I'm telling you that vacuum brakes are better and safer than air brakes," Ray said.

"How exactly? Air brakes keep things full of air."

"You're full of entirely the wrong type of it. Anyway, vacuum brakes maintain brake pressure by keeping air out of the system. If the pipe leaks air gets in and applies the brakes. In air braking systems, air leaks can prevent the brakes from working."

"Pay not attention everybody!" Charles shouted. "Ray is being boring again!"

Zipp looked out of Charles' cab. "That was all so bizarre, though. The tin mine is that way, and has some rail access, but I never thought of Misty as being the hiking type."

There was no reply. "Uh, Pipp?"

Pipp was trying to stream. "Yikes on trikes. This footplate is far too noisy for a stream. And Ray is being boring!"

Ray looked offended. "I thought your viewers might find the difference between vacuum and air brakes interesting."

"You are possibly the only engine who could make a twenty minute lecture out of the benefits of different types of vans, Ray."

Zipp climbed out of the cab and walked across the platform for clues. "Ah, there's the path. Just a short walk, Pipp."

She glanced back to see Pipp absolutely swarmed by kids. "Aloha from Perranwell, Pippsqueaks!" Pipp called, clearly doing another stream. "The sun is up, the sky is blue, there's not a cloud to spoil the view. And sunshine is all I need to look fabulous!"

"What are you doing?" Zipp asked.

"Streaming? I told my followers I'd be streaming all day! If I stopped now, I'd be breaking my promise!"

"You've been streaming this entire time?"

"Well, yeah."

"What bit of sneaking off without anybody noticing do you not understand?" Zipp asked. "If mom sees that stream the whole operation is compromised. The most valuable asset you have is the thing between your ears. Start using it."

Pipp looked hurt, but otherwise nodded. "OK, gotta go. See you later, Pippsqueaks!"

"Pipp Pipp Hooray!" the kids said, as Pipp smiled.

"I think this flower would go perfectly in your hair!" said one of the girls, handing it to her.

"Nice work, Seashell!" Pipp said. "How did you know I was looking for a flower?"

Zipp's eye began twitching.

"Oh, I meant follower. Do any of you guys follow me on BookTok?"

"No," replied the chorus.

"It's new. But I'll be sure to see you there. Goodbye!" Pipp hopped back aboard Ray's footplate and prepared him to move off.

Charles looked at Ray. "She is possibly the most airheaded person... in the world."

Charles led the way up the short branch to the tin mine, with Ray following close behind. "We're getting close!" Zipp called, as she brought Charles to a stop outside the mine entrance. She glanced back to see Pipp was still posting. "Hey! No social media!"

"I put a filter on it! Nobody will know where we are!"

Zipp had just about reached her breaking point. "You do know the file names of the images you upload have GPS coordinates, right? That means somebody looking at them can figure out where they were taken."

"Oh, hadn't thought of that."

"Like all the other things you don't think of, because you don't think." Zipp had truly had enough. "Your social media stuff has been getting in our way the entire day because you don't seem to be able to resist the urge to take yet another picture of yourself!"

"I thought the entire point of this expedition was to get something for an Instagram post!"

"Oh, really? And the other garbage platforms you post to, like TikTok or BookTok? What a stupid name!"

Pipp rolled her eyes. "I made that up."

Zipp facepalmed. "Missing the point entirely. Fine, this was never about finding the flower. I just needed an excuse to get out of the stupid portrait thing. OK, the search was fun for a bit, but your social media stuff gets in the way! I will NEVER understand how you are such a colossal narcissist that you feel the need to share every waking hour with the outside world!" She slammed Charles' cab window shut and accelerated away.

Pipp was left shocked, and blinked once or twice.

"She sounds unhappy," Ray said, breaking the silence.

"Come on," Pipp said. "Let's make sure she doesn't do something stupid."

Charles advanced slowly into the mine, trying to see where he was going. "Unfortunately for me and Zipp, it was very dark. I tried asking my colleague for a light, but he wasn't much help."

"Any particular reason you're narrating?" Zipp asked.

"I thought it could lighten the mood a bit."

The tunnel widened to two track, and Zipp brought Charles to a stop in the middle of an intersection. "I wonder how long these tunnels go on for?"

Suddenly, singing echoed down the tunnel. "Great accoustics. I could really see a concert happening down here."

Zipp looked in disbelief as Ray came to a stop next to Charles. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going in the same direction as you two," Ray replied.

"Apart from that."

Pipp leaned out of Ray's cab. "Seeing as you're in here, I figured we might as well grab what we came for and go. I don't get why you're devoting so much energy to something you think is silly, but then again I will never understand why you're so stubborn."

"I did all the research and investigation. I deserve to receive the fruits of my labour." Just then, she spotted it. "There's one. End of that intersection."

Charles accelerated towards the arrangement of flowers. "How can flowers be growing in a place with no sunlight?"

"Not gonna take a picture?" Zipp asked her sister.

"I don't feel like it."

Zipp blinked. "Wait, I'm confused."

"There's no signal down here, and besides I don't want to ruin the feed with the bad vibes you're giving off."

"I'm picking up bad vibrations!" Charles and Ray chorused.

"You're not taking a single picture or sample after all that work I did?"

"We wouldn't be here if you hadn't lied!"

The situation was reaching fever pitch, and then they spoke at once.

"I can't believe you're being this childish!"

Suddenly, the cavern began to shake, and rocks began dropping from the ceiling. "We're gonna get blocked in!" Zipp shouted. "To the engines, quickly!"

Unfortunately, rocks fell inbetween them and the engines, blocking them off from one another.

A rock dropped out of nowhere and bounced into Charles' cab, knocking his throttle into the open position. He roared into the rockslide... and derailed.

Ray looked annoyed. "You pillock! Now we're even more stuck!"

Charles glanced at nobody. "And on that bombshell..."

Pipp was hyperventilating. "Oh no! Oh no oh no oh no! We're stuck down here, with limited air, and nobody knows where we are and we're probably going to die or be eaten by wildlife and nobody will ever know and-"

Suddenly, two notes cut through her panicking. "Be still."

Pipp stopped and glanced over, using the light from her torch to try and illuminate the cavern. "Zipp? Was that you?"

To the disbelief of her sister, Zipp was singing. "Be still, don't move/
It's easy to smile with you by my side!
Don't blink-"

Don't blink," Pipp added.

"Big smile-"

"Big smile-"

And then they chorused together.

"Just being with you
My heart opens wi-i-i-i-i-i-ide
There for you through thick and thin-"

Then they started alternating again.

"We're not the same-"

"But I know we've been-

"Find ourselves on different pages/
Different notes mean-"

And then in chorus again.

"Bigger stages!
As it all comes clear to me/
You're my best friend, my family!
I wanna capture this moment/
As we hit our stride!"

And then Zipp on her own again.

"With you by my-"

And finally together once more.

"You by my si-i-i-i-i-i-ide/
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!
Si-i-i-i-i-i-ide!
It's portrait day/
I want you by my side!"

Zipp smiled. "See? I knew that'd calm you down."

Pipp hung her head. "I know this'll seem hollow, but sorry for messing up your plan. I spent all that time on my phone, and forgot to spend time with you. I guess I am pretty selfish at the end of the day."

Zipp nodded. "I'm the one at fault here. I dragged you along under false pretenses to try and find this flower. I was being selfish." She laughed. "Guess we're not so different after all."

"It's OK," Pipp replied. "Besides, we do still need to find a way out."

Zipp had an idea. "Often, these mines have alternate exits as a safety measure. If we can find one we can get out of here."

Pipp had a brainwave, and switched on her phone's hotspot to start an emergency stream. She knew this would eat through her data, but frankly that was better than being stuck. "Hey Pippsqueaks! I know it looks like I'm streaming from the inside of a coal cellar, but me and Zipp are stuck down here and need some help. If any of you could send us a map of the mine complex that'd be a great help. Oh, and call the coastguard, as we have two stuck engines!"

Seconds later, a map appeared in her inbox, so she opened it. "Perfect! Thank you so much!"

She showed it to Zipp. "There's an exit that way. I'll use the torch on my phone to light the way."

"Take the lead!" Zipp replied.

The pair walked up the tunnels, noticing the light gradually getting stronger as they walked along. Eventually, they emerged into the sunlight, battered by glad to be alive. As they looked down over the scenery, they saw a Coastguard helicopter touch down outside the collapsed mine entrance, as well as an air-sea rescue team equipped with explosives to blast through the rubble.

"We'd better help them dig Charles and Ray out," Zipp said.

"Good idea," Pipp smiled. "I think we both learned something important today."

Just then she glanced down at her phone. "You have two thousand notifications?"

Back at the house, Lady Haven was in a panic. "Where are they?" she asked. "They're not responding to my calls or texts, and Pipp hasn't answered a single message I sent her on social media platforms!"

"The coastguard is already out looking for them. I'm certain they'll find them," Lord Haven tried to reassure his wife.

"We're here!" Zipp called, as she and her sister walked in through the door. Both of them looked a mess, but were doing fine.

Lady Haven ran over and hugged her daughters. "Thank the stars you're safe!" she said. "But where have you been? And why do both of you smell of seawater?"

Pipp grinned. "You wouldn't believe us if we told you. But we did find this!" And she produced the flower.

Lady Haven's eyes widened, her actions and words somewhat at odds with the fancy clothes she was wearing. "An ocean lily? I last saw one of those on my wedding night! They're said to bring good luck."

"Shall we take the picture?" Lord Haven asked. "And let's try to make this one a bit more fun than the last ones."

The family scooted into frame as Lord Haven said the camera to start, then walked into frame. The camera flashed, perfectly capturing their smiles.

But what a picture can never truly capture is the warmth and love the Havens felt for one another. After all, they knew when the world came crashing down that they would always have each other's backs.

Author's Note

This chapter is based on the MLP Episode 'Portrait of a Princess', with a few modifications to fit the human setting. There are a few references to British comedy shows in there, such as The Office, the series that pioneered the fly on the wall format used in many 2000s sitcoms.

And if there are any Citroen owners in the comments section... Lady Haven's opinions on their cars do not reflect my own; my parents owned a Citroen C3 which gave them almost a decade's loyal service.

Strike the Bell!

The Fisherman's Arms rang to the sound of chatter and song, as it did every Friday night. The house musicians were playing their songs as people shared stories and drinks.

Sunny and her friends were all sat at the back, each with a (strictly non-alcoholic) drink, whilst the adults were seated elsewhere having their own conversation.

"Well, what a week it's been," Sunny said, taking a sip of apple juice.

"So much fish to move, and all before the closure too!" Pipp added.

"Closure?" Misty asked. "This is news to me."

"They're doing track renewal works between Penrhyn and Perranwell," Zipp explained. "The work is estimated to take several weeks. But would you believe it! They'll have a speed limit of ten miles an hour through there whilst they're off having health and safety briefings. No wonder it all takes so long. And it causes so much disruption too."

Izzy nodded. "No wonder the trains always run late if engineering works take so long. Don't they normally do them around Christmas?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Sunny said. "They put every conceivable piece of engineering works on when the system experiences its heaviest traffic volumes."

Zipp then had an idea. "How about we do it ourselves?"

"You cannot be serious!" Pipp said.

"I am!" Zipp replied. "If we get the help of some responsible adults and use all of our equipment, I reckon we can have the work done in 24 hours."

"The work you allude to does include lifting track and replacing ballast," Argyle said, having overheard the conversation.

"I reckon we can get it shifted," Zipp replied, and shrugged. "How hard can it be?"

The next morning, vast amounts of equipment had been assembled for the work. The line was closed between Truro and Falmouth, and a replacement bus service was put into effect. The first major delivery was a track lifting machine, which had been positioned at Perranwell ready to be pushed down the track to the section that needed lifting.

Zipp almost immediately spotted an inneficiency. The workmen were on one side having a health and safety lecture. "How long is this going to go on for?" she asked. "We have 23 hours and 50 minutes left in which to complete the track renewal."

"Safety first," the man replied.

Zipp groaned. "No wonder track maintenance takes so long."

Sunny rolled out a plan on the bench. "So," she said. "We need to remove 1 mile of railway line, remove all the associated ballast by hand, lay new ballast which is yet to be delivered, and then install new rails. Sounds simple enough."

"And for that we'll be using a rail removal and laying machine," Hitch noted, pointing to a large yellow object sitting on a siding. "I can get it pushed into position and track removal can commence."

"Doesn't it have a diesel engine to propel it along?" Zipp asked.

"Well, yes, but-"

"Somebody can drive it into position, stop it, and then remove the rails. That way you and Rebecca can be doing something else."

"This doesn't sound safe," Rebecca chimed in.

"Safety is my middle name," Zipp replied.

Pipp looked surprised. "You never told me you changed your middle name! I thought it was Tanya!"

Zipp soon realised that her plan didn't quite work. The machine rumbled into position and lifted out the relevant section of rail, but two problems quickly became apparent.

The first was that the machine was incorrectly positioned, resulting in the removed rails having odd cuts in them. The second was pointed to her by Charles.

"How are we supposed to remove the old rails if the machine is going towards Penrhyn?" he asked. "It can't come back this way now."

Zipp facepalmed. "It'll just have to drop the rails off at the work camp there, and then we can ship them out when the track is rebuilt."

Rebecca whistled as she pushed some trucks into position on a siding. "Ballast hoppers, ready for loading!" she said. "Fresh ballast is on the way too!"

Sunny ran back down the platform. "We've got a problem!" she called.

"What now?"

"The track machine removed the wrong bits of track!" she said. "We'll need to add them as well as the bit we're supposed to be removing."

"Great. What else is going to go wrong?"

After removing the sections of rail they were supposed to remove, the ballast lifting machines got to work. Harvey had been modified with a bucket, and he lifted loads of ballast into the waiting hoppers to head away.

But this soon led to more problems. "Goldie, we're going to have to stop!" Harvey said.

"What's the problem?" Goldie asked.

"That hopper is full to overflowing. If we keep putting more ballast in there it'll be too heavy for many of the bridges in Cornwall."

"This is a lot harder than I thought."

Charles was having to shuffle the hoppers around to ensure they could be loaded. Zipp, however, was determined to speed things up. So, her solution was to put the loaded hoppers on one siding and shunt the others into postition one by one. This didn't go down well with some of the others.

"Zipp," Pipp pointed out, "do you know what that siding is?"

"Track?" Zipp suggested.

"It's a private siding. That means you can't just shove trucks in there without permission."

"Well there was nothing in there when we started."

"Zipp, that's not the point!"

Sophie was soon put to work removing the loaded hoppers to a siding in Truro which they had permission to use.

Down at Penrhyn, Sunny was sorting out the track removal machine and helping to load the rails into waiting trucks. These would need to be moved later on, as there was now a gap of about a mile and a half preventing the track from being moved.

"I don't understand why we're in such a rush," Salty complained, as he shuffled backwards with the trucks. "A bad job done quickly is worse than a good job done at a sensible speed. If done badly, it needs replacing more often."

"I tried explaining that to Zipp, but she didn't get the memo," Sunny wheezed. "That track was heavy! Good thing we only need to wait for some ballast and push it up the line."

Misty had been allocated to shunt at Truro, processing empties and loaded hoppers as and when they arrived. As Sophie spluttered in with loaded hoppers, she and Bellerophon were having a discussion.

"Zipp really wants us to speed things up." Misty said. "There's not much I can do without the new ballast."

"I know," Bellerophon said. "But I will admit we could use men more efficiently. Why do we need three people walking alongside the hoppers as we shunt them?"

"Safety, apparently."

"Back in British Railways days they had one man to deal with things like hot boxes, and wagon brakes, not three. I don't think modern freight trains are three times the length of old ones."

"Those hoppers are pretty heavy, though," Misty replied. She checked her watch. "Time for lunch!"

"No lunch for you, I'm afraid," said a workman. "These loaded hoppers need shunting so the engine bringing fresh ballast can take them away. Hop to it!"

"Looks like I'm eating on the go," Misty sighed.

By 2 in the afternoon, the ground had been readied for the laying of ballast. The only problem was keeping the ballast flow moving, and for this job Izzy and Porter had been dispatched to Meldon Quarry near Okehampton in Devon to ensure a steady flow.

"Is that for us?" Porter asked, as he rolled alongside several loaded hoppers. "The train looks very short."

Izzy consulted her diagram. "It seems as though most of the rail network is being ballasted today. There's a big load going to Clapham Junction, for instance. We're booked three trains of six hoppers."

"Why don't we move it as one train and make things more efficient?"

"Not enough engines," Izzy explained. "The engine needs to bring empties back which then need filling. If we move it as an 18 car train the locos will end up in the wrong places and miss their booked slots."

"That would be inconvenient."

A Class 66 rattled into the yard with a heavy load. "Who brought the museum piece along?" he joked.

"I've shifted more heavy trucks than you've had your fuel tank refilled, youngster," Porter replied. "So show some respect."

"I see engines of your day lacked a sense of humour as well."

Evidently, the delivery approach paid off, as the first trains of heavy ballast began to arrive not long after. A routine of shunting loaded and empty wagons around soon developed, with Charles and Sophie largely handling the honours.

"This is how you get things done!" Charles said. "Speed and power!"

"Some things never change," Sophie sighed.

Unfortunately, they soon hit a problem. Ray came rolling down the line with some news. "We've run out!" he said.

"Run out of what?" Charles asked.

"Space and wagons," Ray replied. "The sidings are now completely jammed up with hoppers waiting to go, which is causing chaos as trains can't get in or out. Put simply, it's arriving faster than Bellerophon and Misty can process it."

Zipp hopped off the footplate and got on the line to Izzy. "Izzy, you there?"

"Hi Zipp!"

"Can you get us any more engines to move the ballast hoppers back to Meldon?"

"A pair of diesels have just arrived from a spoil working near Exeter, so they should be able to get to your location. We'll have another set of hoppers ready to go shortly."

"We need engines, not hoppers. We're full to overflowing with hoppers."

"Why not use Rebecca to move some of the hoppers back to Meldon?"

Zipp nodded. "I like your thinking." She lowered the handset. "Hitch? Can you head up to Truro and take some hoppers away?"

"We'll try, but I can't promise anything," Hitch replied.

"I hope I can get them over the Devon Banks," Rebecca said. "They are a lot heavier than the ones we used in steam days."

Suddenly, there was a loud crash over the phone. "Izzy, what was that?"

"Well, that's torn it," said the voice of Porter.

"A truck derailed on the access line into the quarry. They'll need to remove it before we can start moving ballast again."

Zipp put her head in her hands. "And we were going so smoothly too. Get that line reopen again, no matter what."

"Oki doki Loki!"

Zipp's attention was distracted by a train of rail arriving.

"Got some fresh track for you!" Bellerophon called. "This arrived a while back."

"Stick it on Platform 2 and leave it there. We're not done with the ballast train yet." Zipp looked out over the line. "It's five already, and we still have half a mile of ballast to lay."

It was several hours before more ballast began to arrive, and Lady Haven was looking worried. "Do you see that in the distance?" she asked Zipp.

"Is that a storm front?"

"Yes, it is," Lady Haven sighed. "If that hits us, it won't be safe to keep working. We'd have to stop work."

"If we have any more delays we'll be behind schedule and the line won't reopen in time!" Zipp protested. "We promised the area we'd get it done in 24 hours, and if we don't we'll look like-"

"Complete muppets?" Ray chimed in.

The rain hit just as the trains of ballast began to arrive once again. Minutes after that, Argyle and Brookes, who had been working the sidings near Newham the entire day, arrived with vans loaded with fish and chips. "Fish and chips, 75 times!" Brookes called.

Argyle shook his head. "I hope Network Rail are going to cover the cost. Getting this lot wasn't cheap."

After having dinner on the go, the ballasting work was finally complete at 4 the next morning. The final job was getting the rails laid, and for this the rail laying machine went into action.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Pipp said. "The rail laying machine is over there as we sent it going the wrong way, and the rails are over here. We're going to have to carry them over!"

"Not all of them, matey!" said Salty, who had just arrived. "Half the rail is over on this side. We can load our half into the machine, and you can fit the rest by hand."

"Come on, everybody!" Zipp called. "Muck in!"

The last rail was slotted into position and bolted into place mere minutes before the deadline expired, and with a cheer the crew celebrated the line being reopen to traffic.

Pipp puffed and panted as she looked at her hands. "Look at all that grease!" she said. "I need a shower after that."

"I think we all need a rest," Sunny agreed. "So, what have we learned from that?"

Hitch offered the final nugget of wisdom. "It is possible to replace an entire section of railway in 24 hours. However, I would strongly advise against it."

Author's Note

This chapter is based on Top Gear's 24-hour roadworks challenge, which originally aired as part of the 9th season. The title of the chapter is derived from a sea shanty of the same name. Rail replacement works in the United Kingdom are a byword for inneficient workplace management, with it seemingly taking Network Rail forever to do simple things like modify approach signals.

The Singing Brakevan

It was late one evening, and Hitch was completing some last checks in the yard. As Porter was finishing processing the trucks, he noticed the trucks in that formation being unusually well behaved.

"Some new trick, Porter?" he asked.

"Sea shanties usually did the trick," Porter smiled. "But this brake van has really helped by adding an extra voice!"

Once the train was stopped, Hitch uncoupled the brake van and Porter from the train, and parked them on a nearby siding. "Thanks for coming to Falmouth!"

"I live here, you muppet," Porter replied as he backed off.

"I see Porter told you about the singing?" said a voice, which Hitch figured out by process of elimination to be coming from the brake van.

"Yeah. Are you Scottish by any chance?"

The brake van laughed. "You're one of only a handful to get my nationality right. Angus. I was allocated to Kyle of Lochalsh for many years, which is where I get my accent from."

"That's something we have in common," Hitch smiled. "Many people think I'm Canadian."

"I'll enjoy my night in this town," Angus replied. "Then I'm on my way back north, I reckon."

"We're a friendly bunch," Hitch said. "Bellerophon will look after you for the night shift."

"I'll do my old friendliness test," Angus said, noticing a crowd had gathered overlooking the yard. So he began to sing.

"Oh, we'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
We'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
We'd be alright if the wind was in our sails
And we'll all hang on behind..."

The trucks seemingly recognised this one, and joined in for the chorus.

"And we'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
We'll ro-o-oll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!

Hitch stood in amazement at the incredible sound of one brake van calling and hundreds of trucks responding in perfect, four part harmony. "These work songs seem to a good job of keeping the trucks in line. Well, see you later!"

The next morning, Hitch arrived with his clipboard to discover Izzy looking at the instructions in confusion. "Hey Izz! How are things?"

"I'm trying to locate the trucks we need for an outgoing train, but the numbers don't align. The brake van is a particular problem."

"Have you tried using the automatic wagon searching system?"

"Yeah, but a vehicle of that number wasn't in the list."

Hitch rolled his eyes. "Probably just a technical glitch. I'll go into the yard and find it for you. After all, brake vans are parked on one siding for ease of access."

He strolled into the yard, and his jaw dropped when he saw the siding. The siding, which should have had three brake vans, only had two.

"The brake van has gone missing! And somebody took it!"

Hitch began sprinting the other way, grabbing a megaphone and heading to the shed. As he ran, he began shouting through it.

"SUNNY! PIPP! ZIPP! REPORT TO THE ENGINE SHED AT ONCE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!"

"We're right here," Zipp said, motioning in his direction. "You don't need to run around yelling with thing in our faces."

"This is urgent! One of our brake vans is missing!"

"Misty probably forgot to check it into the system last night," Sunny said. "Have you checked the yard?"

"Yes! And it's not there!"

"How odd," Zipp said. "First the lantern, and now a brake van. Both went missing overnight, and both vanished when Misty was working the night shift. Who would want to steal a brake van?"

"A goods engine?" Izzy suggested.

"Why would an engine steal a brake van?" Pipp asked.

"Maybe he had a long overnight run and didn't want to wait until morning!"

"Presuming gender, are we?" Zipp replied. "There are female goods engines, you know."

"All that matters is that we find that brake van!" Hitch said. "I need all of you to split up and look around!"

A few hours later, Zipp was scanning the viscinity with her spy gear, and followed a trail of oil. "Hmm, this looks like lubricating oil." She followed it along, and then stopped at Charles. "Oh, sorry."

"They had to bleed the tank last night in order to do routine maintenance," Charles replied. "It'd be more efficient, not to mention faster, to use me to find this brake van."

Zipp plugged in a refuelling pipe and began refilling Charles' fuel tank.

Meanwhile, Sunny was rollerblading about town, handing out flyers with important information on them. "Hi!" she said to a crowd. "Have you seen this brake van? He's an LMS 20 ton brake van, with brown paint and IZZY! I CAN BARELY HEAR MYSELF THINK!"

Izzy, for reference, had taken to the controls of Porter and was rolling up and down, blasting bagpipe music from a pair of bagpipes she was playing. And somehow playing percussion at the same time.

"How is she even doing that?" asked a bystander.

"I HAVE NO IDEA!" Porter shouted.

"Get out of my way!" Charles shouted. "You're blocking the exit to the shed!"

"Great, two big noisy things!" Porter complained.

Pipp had settled on an alternate approach; social media. "Alright, Pippsqueaks!" she said. "All I need you to do is post this post all at the same time. This should mean that we get all the hits at once and get the message out! Send it on as many social media apps as you can!"

Her assembled followers nodded. "Pipp Pipp Hooray!" called one.

"And... now!" Pipp pushed the post button, as did many other accounts.

Nothing happened.

"Why aren't we getting any traction?" Pipp asked, who scrolled through her TikTok feed. She was immediately inundated with noisy bagpipe playing and an argument between Charles and Porter.

"Something's drawing views away from the post," said one user.

"I can only hope Hitch is having more luck," Pipp sighed. "Knowing him he's calm and methodical."

"Listen up men!" Hitch called. "We have a missing brake van on our books, and we need to find it. I want each and every one of you to comb the town. Leave no stone unturned, no clue not followed. If you can do this, we'll have a truly great victory. Think of the greatest military campaigns! Trafalgar! Waterloo! El Alamein! Thermopylae!"

"I thought they all died to a man at Thermopylae," said a voice.

"OK, that was a bad example," Hitch admitted. "But the point stands. Get to it! I want that brake van found yesterday! SECTION DISMISSED!"

As large numbers of people in uniform turned out onto the streets, Hitch went into his headquarters for the operation. He answered his campaign phone. "This is Hotel Actual to Sierra Charlie, how copy, over?"

"This isn't working!" Sunny yelled, trying to be heard over shouting and megaphones and the blaring of bagpipes. "We keep getting in each other's way!"

"Thanks for update, Sierra Charlie. Keep me posted. Out." Hitch lowered the phone down, and his face darkened. "Normal methods have failed, so it's time to bring out the Big Guns." He pushed a button on his desk, and picked up the phone again. "To all units; Operation Downfall is in effect. I repeat; Operation Downfall is in effect."

Misty smiled to herself as she watched the chaos unfolding on her phone. "The plan worked!" she said to herself. "Opaline will be so pleased when she learns about this. Now just to get into the lighthouse and get that lantern."

She walked up and knocked on the door.

"Just a minute!" called a voice.

Misty waited a minute before the door opened. On the other side was Goldie. "Good afternoon, Misty," she said. "How can I help you?"

"Sunny asked me if I could pick up something for her," Misty replied. This was, of course, a lie. "I think it was some cough sweets?"

Goldie frowned. "Odd she didn't just phone home to tell me. But I'll find some for her." And she went into the house.

Misty saw this as her chance, so she dashed up the stairs without making a sound and took the route into the first room on the left. The lantern was sitting on the nightstand, so she swiped it and sprinted back down, again without being heard.

Goldie then emerged with a box. "Misty? Here's the ones she... oh. Where did she go?"

Misty dodged into an alley as she saw Sunny and her friends walking along. She couldn't afford to be seen.

"Any luck?" Hitch asked.

"No," Zipp replied. "No brake van."

"But," Izzy said, "I did find an old carriage that might be useful."

Pipp nodded. "At least the new song I recorded is gaining traction." She flipped it to another portion of the display.

"It disappeared just like that, and it's nowhere to be found/
Lift that rock, sweep that side, and ask around/
We need the who, what, or why, then there's nowhere left to hide/
Oh, no, no, there's nowhere left to hide!"

("Oh, oh, where'd it go?")

("Oh, oh, where'd it go?")

My friends and I are on the case

"Here we go, here we go!
We're not gonna stop 'til we find what we're missin'/
Where'd it go? Where'd it go?
A perfect case for a private eye!

"I'm searching far and wide/
So here we go, here we go!
We're not gonna stop 'til we find what we're missin'!"

"That's enough of that," Zipp said. "Who are the girls on backing vocals?"

"Some of my fans," Pipp replied. "That's just the YouTube shorts version. The full thing is quite good, in my opinion."

As they walked away, Misty ducked out of the alley- and immediately walked into a pile of boxes. Fish fingers rained down on her as she got back up. "Still got my old clumsiness."

Back in the town square, Izzy had gone back to playing bagpipes loudly.

"CAN YOU MAKE A LITTLE LESS NOISE, PLEASE?" Pipp shouted. "I CAN'T HEAR MYSELF THINK!"

"Sorry, what?" Izzy said. "I can't hear you. These bagpipes are too loud!"

Meanwhile, Charles was trying to shunt a high load. The winds buffeted the wagon back and forth, and it was on the verge of tipping over. "Ray, a bit of help please!"

Unfortunately, his fellow engine wasn't much help. "This is the most fun I've had in ages!" Ray replied, inbetween bouts of laughter. "This is utterly hilarious!"

Charles continued to try and negotiate the leaning tower of Falmouth as people ran about in confusion in the town.

Sunny had eventually had enough. She grabbed a megaphone and yelled over it. "STOP FIGHTING!"

That got everybody's attention. "Look, guys, with our different approaches we've been treading on each other's feet the entire day. This isn't helping us find the missing brake van. If anything it's making it harder."

Suddenly, a figure appeared out of literally nowhere. It was a person dressed in what looked like some form of futuristic armour. "The thief will rue the day he crossed me," they said.

"Hitch?" Izzy asked. "Is that you?"

The figure removed the face mask, revealing them to indeed be Hitch. "When old method fail, it's time to bring out the big guns. I have the CCF combing the town, and with this new stealth technology the thief will not be able to stop me." He vanished once more into thin air and went on his way.

"Now I see what you mean by this being counterproductive," Pipp said.

Izzy sighed. "It's a good thing my hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia is in effect today, or else I might be characterised by a predilection to engage in the manifestation of prolix exposition through a buzzword disposition form of communication notwithstanding the availability of more comprehensible, punctiliously applicable, diminutive alternatives, thereby rendering me excessive in my application of Sesquipedalian Loquaciousness."

There was a moment's silence. "In English, please."

"Those were all English words," Izzy replied.

"The first thing we need to do is reign Hitch in, wherever he's gone," Sunny said, trying to get back on topic. "Let's go!"

It wasn't long before she ran into him- literally. In the middle of the street, she crashed into nothing and flew through the air before crashing into the floor.

"Oww," she groaned. "So glad I brought rollerblades today."

Hitch de-stealthed. "You're interfering with military operations, civilian!" he barked. "Clear the area and let the professionals handle this."

"By scaring everybody?" Sunny said. "You can't solve every problem by throwing boots at it."

"I'm not throwing boots at anybody, as the boots are attached to feet," Hitch replied. "I could try that, though. Worth a try."

"All this commotion and noise is making finding the brake van harder," Sunny countered. "Is there anything we might be missing in our search?"

Hitch thought for a moment. "He was a good singer."

"See?" Sunny said. "We already have a lead."

As the sky began to shift from blue to orange, the crew had assembled in the town square with microphones and bagpipes.

"Are you sure this will work?" Sunny asked.

"Scottish things are always attracted by Scottish music," Pipp said. "Ready, Izzy?"

"I certainly am," Izzy smiled, and began playing a tune.

"Auld Lang Syne?" Hitch replied. "That might work. Now, come on everybody! Sing!"

Four voices joined in unison to produce a truly marvellous sound. Moments later, Hitch called a halt. "There's his voice! It's coming from the mine entrance near the lighthouse! Izzy, Porter, go and dig him out!"

"Aye aye, Captain!" Izzy replied, and sprinted away.

"I'm a Sergeant."

A few minutes later, Porter returned with both a brake van and a carriage in tow.

"Where'd you find the carriage?" Zipp asked.

"Oh, it was on a siding," Izzy replied.

"Imagine finding one of those out here," Porter said. "Last place I'd expect to find a MK1 of this design."

"Yeah," Pipp said. "Where are the doors?"

"Several were replaced with roller shutters to make loading parcels easier," Porter explained.

"And I think it would make an excellent support coach for Rebecca, or any big engine really," Izzy explained.

"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, OK?" Sunny said.

Angus was most happy to be safe. "Thanks for rescuing me," he said. "I was beginning to think I would never be found."

"All in a day's work," Hitch replied. "Did you see the engine who moved you?"

"No, I was asleep," Angus replied. "One moment I was here, the next I was in that quarry. I wonder where that engine could be now?"

Suddenly, something flew out of the air. Some sort of signal mortar, a glowing shell, flew through the air and crashed through the shed roof.

"Oh no," Hitch said. "I forgot to cancel Operation Downfall.

Before long, the tranquility of the early afternoon was interrupted by an engine. "JUST LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO THE SHED, MAN!"

Misty parked Bellerophon in a siding and chucked his fire out to ensure he didn't overheat whilst she was away. She grabbed the lantern and sprinted for a waiting train, clambering into the coach and through the door.

"I've got the lantern!" she said, to the figures in the room.

"It took you long enough to get here," Opaline said. "Did you get lost on the way here?"

"And do you have the sample?" Boomer asked, extending his hand.

"Yes, I do," Misty replied, handing over the lantern. "It's in here. I also have a second sample in my bag and-"

Opaline waved a hand as a signal for Misty to stop talking. "Prisbeam magic," she said. "I haven't seen this stuff in decades." She popped open the lantern and inhaled a small amount.

Her body suddenly glowed with a purple energy, and a pair of translucent purple wings flared into being behind her. "YES! I haven't felt such power since Derby!"

She laughed maniacally. "At long last, I can finish what I began all those years ago! I can take my revenge on the Reverend, and bring all of Britain under my control, as it is meant to be! The world will shake in fear when I take my rightful place as Queen of Great Britain! They will fear their ruling class, as they are meant to!"

She turned to Misty, an evil smile on her face. "Thank you, for making my victory possible," she said. "But alas this is where your journey ends. Boomer! Dispose of her."

"What?" Misty said, as Boomer advanced. "No! I can still help you!"

"You foolish, stupid child," Opaline smiled. "Did you ever think I would reward a pathetic little grub such as you? The detritus of humanity? A girl so monumentally useless your own mother didn't even want you? No. The world will be a better place with you gone."

Misty continued to protest as Boomer grabbed her and opened the door. "No! Please, show mercy! Think of all I've done for you!"

"Impede my operation through your incompetence?" Opaline replied. "No. The world is better off forgetting you exist."

Boomer hurled her out of the carriage as the train continued to gather speed. "Few could survive a fall from a train doing forty miles an hour," he said confidently. "And even if she does survive that, another train will probably finish her off."

Misty fell from the train and smashed into the ground, bouncing along as she came to a stop in the undergrowth next to the track. She groaned as she tried to get up, but a searing pain cut through her leg as she tried. It was probably broken.

Her breathing was ragged and every part of her burned in pain. She turned her head back towards Falmouth, and tried to drag herself in the direction of help. "H- help," she wheezed, unable to make much more noise.

And the world around her gradually turned to black as she lost consciousness. In the confusion, she didn't notice the smashed bottle in her bag, which was leaking a rainbow coloured substance.

Author's Note

Based on the MLP Episode 'Have you Seen this Dragon?', with some elements drawn from 'Bradford the Brake Van', an episode from the 20th Season of Thomas and Friends. The title is a nod to country musician Jimmy Rodgers, a performer who was often referrred to as 'the singing brakeman' due to his day job being a brakeman.

I am aware the ending is an unusually dark turn for this set, but it would not surprise me at all if Opaline tries to dispose of Misty at some point in the main show. The sequence is inspired by the overall tone of this story:

TWorthless

MLP Gen 5

Dark

Sad

Slice of Life

Misty finally succeeds in capturing Sparky! She is so excited as Opaline will finally give her a cutie mark as promised! Or…so she thought.

Violence

Alt. Universe

Mane 5

Opaline

Misty

Admiral Producer · 4.1k words  ·  116  3 · 4.3k views

Ray and the Gremlins

Hitch had decided to take an evening walk along the coast before turning in for the night. He walked along, calmly whistling to himself, as the strolled along the pathway which ran alongside the railway line. The last train of the day had departed a few minutes ago, and there wasn't any reason to think that anything interesting had happened.

As he made his way along, he moved past some bushes, and the sight he witnessed horrified him.

Misty was lying by the lineside, soaked in a rainbow coloured pool. Based on the bruising she had, she had presumably received a hit at high speed. "Misty! Misty, can you hear me?"

The reply was very quiet. "H- help... me... Opa... get... wa..."

"Don't worry, I'm gonna get help," Hitch said, and opened up his phone. He dialled 999.

"You have connected to dispatch. Please indicate which service you require."

"Air ambulance."

"Understood sir, transferring you now."

There was a few clicks until the officer spoke. "You have reached Cornish Air Ambulance. Please indicate position and emergency."

"I'm just outside Falmouth, Cornwall. Person is lying next to the railway line, looks to be severely injured."

"Dispatching a rescue team to your position now."

Hitch stayed with Misty until the helicopter arrived, at which point the paramedics took over. Hitch waited until the helicopter had left, then sent his friends a text.

Found Misty by lineside. Seriously hurt. Air ambulance taking her to hospital. Will keep you posted.

He only hoped she would be OK.

Understandably, the five had wanted to visit Misty in hospital, and a special train was organised for the next day. Unfortunately, things almost immediately began to go wrong. No matter what Zipp tried, Charles' engine wouldn't start.

"I don't understand!" Zipp exclaimed. "Just when we need something to work it breaks down!"

"Hit it with a hammer," Porter suggested. "That's Charles' solution to every problem."

"Except when the thing you are hitting with a hammer is yours truly," Charles replied. "I may be a hypocrite, but at least I'm an honest hypocrite."

"It must be gremlins," Lady Haven said, who had popped down. If her daughters were worried, so was she, and it was clear to her that Misty meant a lot to them.

"What are gremlins?" Rebecca asked.

"It's a film written by Chris Columbus," Charles replied. "Utter rubbish."

"You really have no taste, do you?" Sophie said.

"I heard the term from a tank engine stationed at an army base I worked nearby once," Salty chimed in. "They're little green men who interfere with things."

"It's a metaphor for things not working," Charles interrupted. "Cars built by British Leyland were often said to be full of them."

"You'd best be careful," Salty added. "Things are very supersticious. Writing's on the wall, so to speak."

Lady Haven had, in the meantime, gotten Ray up and running, as he had been allocated as a backup engine. "Perfect! Let's go and collect the coaches, then get off to Truro as soon as we can!"

Ray rolled out of the shed, steam flowing from his cylinder cocks. "Let's go! Nice and smooth, the proper way!"

"If a job's worth doing it's worth doing quickly!" Charles interjected.

"Well!"

"Quickly!"

"Well!"

This went on even as Ray rolled out of earshot.

Ray got to the yard, only to discover there were even more problems. "What's the delay now?" he asked.

"The points are stuck," said a workman. "And the mechanic hasn't arrived yet. He's not required to be on site at weekends and lives more than an hour away."

"That seems most silly," Lady Haven said. "Whilst we sit here and wait for him to turn up, that's less time for the hospital visit!"

Ray was equally annoyed. "If I wanted to deal with silliness like this I'd go and work in France!" he said.

After a ridiculously long wait, the points were fixed, and Ray was able to collect his coaches. He took them to the platform where Zipp and her friends were waiting.

"What took you so long?" Sunny asked.

"Broken points and idiotic employment policies," Ray replied. "I'll try and make up lost time on the way to Truro."

The girls climbed aboard as Ray awaited the all clear. He waited. And waited. And waited. But the signal stayed at red. "Now what?"

Just then, the signal switched to green. "Sorry for the delay!" the station master said. "Apparently a cow strayed onto the line, and they had to shoo it away!"

"Probably a good thing I did get this working," Ray replied. "Charles would simply have rammed it." And he FINALLY set off on his way.

Ray and Lady Haven were determined to make up the lost time, and sped up the line at speed. They had to go much faster, as although it would now be impossible to make the booked arrival time, they really could not be late. Soon the coaches were rocking, and swayed from side to side, with the interiors being rather like a Turkish bath as the steam heating was on the blink.

When they finally arrived at Truro, more than an hour late, the passengers were glad to be off. "That has to be one of the worst train trips I have ever taken," Pipp said. "It was like a sauna in there!"

"Is today the day Murphy decided to strike?" Izzy asked. "Because day feels rather, well, jinxy."

"Don't tempt fate," Zipp said, as they left the station. "Misty's being treated at Royal Cornwall, which isn't too far from here. Should be an easy walk."

Unfortunately, she was wrong. Two cars had collided up ahead, and this reduced foot traffic to a trickle. "Really?"

Misty lay in bed, exhausted. Most of her body ached, although at least she could move her limbs. The doctors had advised that she try to rest as much as possible.

Just then, she heard some familiar voices. "Can we see her?"

"You may," said a doctor. "Just be gentle. I appreciate you are worried, but she needs to rest."

Just then, she saw the five she had been spying on for weeks step in. "Hey guys," she said weakly. "I'll live, if that's what you're worried about."

"What happened?" Sunny asked.

"Well, Hitch found me after the fall. Turns out I hadn't broken anything. But the landing did a number on me anyway."

"That's what we can't explain," the doctor admitted. "Based on the description the air ambulance gave us, her injuries were consistent with a fall from an object moving at high speed. But none of her bones were broken. The worst we saw was severe bruising." He paused. "Misty, you are lucky to be alive."

"Can I speak to them in private?" Misty asked.

"Of course, but if anything happens one of you push the call button, understand?" The doctor said.

Misty nodded. She looked to her friends as the doctor left. "I didn't fall from the train. I was pushed."

"What?" Sunny asked. "By whom?"

Misty looked down, ashamed. "The truth is... I haven't been honest with any of you. I didn't happen to stumble across Falmouth. I was sent to spy on you."

Zipp looked annoyed. "So I was right about you," she said, crossing her arms. "But who sent you?"

"Her name is Opaline," Misty said. "She wants to rule Britain, and thinks that the power that creates sentient machines can let her do that. So she sent me to steal it. That was how your lantern went missing."

Sunny looked surprised. "You took it?"

"I didn't know any better!" Misty replied. "I trusted Opaline. She was the closest thing I have to a parent, and then... she turned on me." She looked down again. "I'm nothing but a naive idiot who has no idea who she is or where she comes from. Perhaps I should be alone. That way, nobody can be hurt by my stupidity."

"Misty, that's not true," Pipp said. "You're just a person who made some poor decisions. We've all been there, and we'll help you find who you really are. Do you know anything about your past?"

"No," Misty said. "I have no idea who my parents were, or even where I was born. I don't even know my own birthday!"

"We need to help her," Sunny said.

"Even after betraying our trust?" Zipp asked.

"We've all done stupid things we're not proud of," Sunny said. "Especially me. That business with the crown in Swanage, remember? But right now Misty is hurting and needs something that resembles a family."

Zipp sighed. "You're right, Sunny. Let's help her."

"Help who?" Misty asked.

"You," Hitch finished. "You're our friend Misty. We can get you back on your feet and maybe discover the truth."

"Thank you," Misty answered. "And in return, I want to help you. I have information that can help you against Opaline. If we bring her down, the world will be a better place."

As the others crowded round to give her a gentle hug, Misty felt something she had only previously felt when with them at the sleepover.

That she belonged.

Author's Note

This chapter is based on the TTTE episode 'Gordon and the Gremlins', with some elements incorporated from my experiences of travel in the United States. In particular, the long wait for the engineer is based on a delay I experienced on a flight from Birmingham to Atlanta, where the engineer needed to sign off on critical paperwork lived an hour away and was not needed to be at the airport on weekends. Because as we all know aircraft never go wrong on weekends...

Charles and the Foghorn

Cornwall had been caught in an unexpected cold snap, and with it came fog and snow. Fog is a nuisance for operational reasons, as it tends to gather in valleys and makes seeing where you're going rather difficult. As a result, extra safety measures had been put into place to ensure the trains could continue to run smoothly.

Charles and Zipp were making their way up the line to Truro one misty morning when suddenly an explosion echoed under Charles' wheels. "That was a loud one!" Charles commented. "There must be trouble up ahead."

"Sounds that way," Zipp replied. "That, or Cyril is out and about."

Cyril is a local fogman and safety inspector, whose job it is to keep the railway safe. Whenever anything dangerous looms, he places detonators on the track to warn engines to slow down. Usually detonators are use to signify that there is something on the line, but they can also be used to indicate caution.

Rather against character, Charles slowed down as he approached the fog bank. "Thank you, Cyril," he said.

"No problem!" Cyril replied. "Drive safely and carefully today!"

Zipp nodded. "Something's still not right around here," she said, as Cyril rolled out of earshot. "What Misty told us in the hospital is still concerning me. There's this woman trying to find us and steal power? What could she be doing that for?"

"To become more powerful?" Charles suggested.

"Well, that's rather obvious," Zipp replied. "I wonder if she was the person Awdry was warning about? Having said that, I have my doubts about Misty's honesty seeing as she happily lied to our faces."

"Did she 'happily lie', or was she coerced into doing what she did?" Charles offered.

"You seem to be in an oddly contemplative mood today," Zipp said.

"It's the fog. Reminds me of the day I was withdrawn. Nearly didn't make it either."

Later that day, the engines and their drivers had gathered at the shed for the unveiling of a new device Argyle and Lord Haven had developed.

"What is it?" Porter asked. "It looks like a grey box with a big noisy thing attached to it!"

"Anybody thinking of vuvuzelas?" Sophie offered.

"No," Pipp said. "Those things ruin the vibes of a positive morning stream. Mom says they became all the rage after the World Cup a few years ago, and she still hasn't gotten the noise out of her head."

"It's a mechanical foghorn," Lord Haven explained. "It's a horn designed to warn people and engines of fog being ahead."

"How does it know when fog is ahead?" Salty asked. "It has no eyes!"

"It uses data from the Met Office to trigger the siren," Argyle explained. "Here's a quick demonstration." He tapped something into the touchpad on the top, and suddenly the siren blared into life, making an incredible racket. After a few seconds, Argyle turned it off.

"That's loud!" Izzy said.

"It needs to be," Porter said. "How else would anybody hear it otherwise?"

"It's far too loud in my opinion," Sophie said. "That'll wake up anybody within a ten mile radius!"

"And," Charles chimed in, "it sounds like a canal boat. And I dislike canal boats."

"Why do you dislike canal boats?" Sunny ventured.

"Because canal boats are stupid and slow! They can't go any faster than four miles an hour! If you can't travel anywhere at a reasonable speed then what's the point?"

"And what of Cyril?" Hitch asked. "He'll be out of a job!"

"He's being used in conjunction with the foghorn for safety reasons."

"Isn't Conjunction junction a rail junction somewhere in the United States?" Rebecca ventured.

"That's an obscure reference," Ray noted.

But Zipp was concerned. This sounded like it didn't have enough failsafes to work properly.

The next day, Sophie and Pipp were making their way up the line when they were accosted by the blaring of the foghorn.

"That nearly knocked me out of my chair!" Pipp said. "I know haunted houses rely on sudden loud noise to scare people, but not this! I'm not really in the mood for scaring."

"I know," Sophie said. "Perhaps use the horn in a remix? Still, could be worse."

Neither of them commented on the fact the set ended behind them as they ran up the valley.

Unfortunately, Sophie was right. It could be worse. And it soon was. Up on the hills were a series of fences, designed to hold snow back. But the foghorn had been so loud it had disrupted the snow, causing it to shift. It broke through the fence and slid down the hillside, pooling down below on the track.

And the foghorn was buried under the snow as well. Further down the line, Charles began his journey, and before long was beset by thick fog.

"Where are we?" he asked. "This fog is making it impossible to see!"

"Something's wrong," Zipp said. "Why didn't the foghorn warn us?"

Suddenly, something huge and white loomed out of the distance. "AVALANCHE!" Charles shouted. "Brakes! Brakes!"

Zipp put the brakes into emergency, but it was too late. The heavy train had no chance of stopping in time and smashed into the snow, derailing the engine at the front.

Zipp dropped out of the cab with a shovel. "You OK, Charles?"

There was a moment's silence. "I couldn't be better. What do you think? And more importantly the line's blocked. We need to warn other engines!"

"And I don't exactly have any red petticoats on me either," Zipp replied. "We could really do with Cyril's help."

"Did somebody call?" said a voice, and before long Zipp saw Cyril walking towards her.

"Thank the stars you're here!" Zipp said. "That foghorn didn't warn us."

"It wouldn't, buried under all that snow," Cyril sighed. "Never trust any level of fangled technology, that's what I say." He handed her some detonators. "Place these at approximately sixty foot intervals, and turn on a torch so other people can see you."

So, off they went, laying detonators down onto the track. They were just in time, as not long after Zipp had placed the final detonators a whistle echoed in the distance. "Sounds like Rebecca's on her way."

Rebecca rolled along the line, humming to herself when suddenly-

BANG!

"That was a detonator!" she called to Hitch. "There must be fog or an obstruction up ahead!"

"Right, ahead slow," Hitch replied, and reduced speed accordingly. When they reached the third detonator, he brought Rebecca to a stop.

And it was good he did too. "Good grief!" Rebecca said. "Look at that snowdrift!"

"We'd best help clear it," Hitch said. He picked up his radio. "Mark, can you ask the passengers whether they'll help clear the snow?"

Quite a bit of shovelling and rerailling later, the line was clear once more. "Thanks, Cyril," Charles said. "I owe you one."

"No problem," Cyril replied. "I'll continue to be on duty here whilst the fog is a problem, then hopefully operations can return to normal. Clearly that foghorn wasn't as reliable as they'd hoped."

And he was right. Accidents do happen, but the engines know that as long as Cyril is watching over the line and warning them of fog, then there is nothing to fear at all.

Author's Note

This chapter is based on the TTTE Episode 'The Fogman', with some aspects tweaked to reflect real life railway operation. I know that's an interesting comment to make considering this setting also has magic and ponying up and all that, but it's an approach that is termed 'magical realism'.

Cyril has proven to be a very popular character in the Thomas fanbase. For instance, who here thought that the CGI era would bring him back?

Next time will see a rather different influence for the story.

Up and Away

"Good morning!" Pipp greeted her friends as they all arrived at the shed. As per usual, she spoke in her familiar sing song tone which some found endearing and others found irritating.

"Morning," the others said.

"I have some excellent news!" Pipp said.

"Has the Dacia Sandero been delayed?" Ray asked.

"Oh no!" Pipp replied. "Anyway, the good news is that Misty is being released from hospital later today, and is returning to Falmouth!"

"Well, it's good to hear she's back on her feet," Hitch admitted, "but how do we fit into this?"

"I suggest we host a party to celebrate her return, and have lots of decorations!"

"All very short notice," Zipp said. "Typical Pipp."

"Well, if you're going to grumble you don't have to take part," Pipp replied. "I know you have your misgivings about her, but I think this would be a quite nice gesture."

"I say we do it," Sunny said. "We can start setting things up whilst doing our usual work. Come on Salty."

"Here we go!" Sophie called, as the shed soon sounded to the familiar sound of diesel engines firing up. Within a few minutes, the fleet was ready to move.

A few hours later, quite a few of the decorations were already in place. Balloons and tables were set up, and bunting was hung from many different places to improve the atmosphere of the place.

The centrepiece, however, was a large balloon that was being moved into place by a large balloon. "I'm not balloon engineer," Sunny said, "but that balloon doesn't look to be properly tied down. Be careful!"

Pipp stepped over and took a closer look at the problem. "Hmm," she said. "The anchoring ropes don't quite look right. Zipp? Could you give me a hand?"

Charles was brought to a stop as Zipp took a look. "Doesn't look too good. I'll secure the engine in place and help out."

Moments later, Porter rumbled backwards with another wagon. "Are the points set correctly?" he asked Izzy.

Izzy looked behind her. "Yes, but there's something parked in the way. Slowing down!"

Porter smiled. "And now, coup de grace!"

Izzy applied the brakes, but she misjudged the distance. Badly. Porter slammed into the wagon, which in turn broke the mooring rope. The balloon drifted high into the air, up and away.

Charles was annoyed. "Porter, you blithering idiot!"

"Sorry!" Porter said. "But more importantly, look at the balloon!"

Everybody looked up. "Oh no," Zipp said.

Pipp held on for dear life as the balloon drifted aimlessly through the air, buffeted by the winds blowing over the Cornish coast. "HELP!" she cried. However, her words were ripped away from her mouth by the howling of the wind.

She looked down, noticing that they seemed to roughly be proceeding in a direction towards Saltash. She knew she had to get help or else she might drift off to sea and be lost forever.

Wrapping her legs round the anchoring rope of the balloon, she fished her phone out of her pocket and started a stream. It was easy for her to set the device up with one hand, as she had years of experience. "Hello, Pippsqueaks! I'm in a bit of a bind right now! I'm on a runaway balloon and need help! If any of you can call the coast guard that'd be fab! Uploading Geotag now!"

She only hoped it would be enough. But then she saw a familiar sight rattling along the Falmouth branch.

Salty was propelling a truck along the branch as quickly as he could, keeping a close eye on the signals. "We're goin' a good deal faster than the operatin' procedures permit!" he said. "Propellin' speed is fifteen miles an hour!"

"I think the board will understand us disregarding the speed limit just this once!" Sunny replied, who opened the cab door. "Urgh, come on! Why do you never activate when I need you?"

"Think of bein' your true self, Sunny!" Salty called. "Failin' that, think of your friends!"

Salty's suggestions seemed to do the trick. Seconds later, there was a spectacular blast of golden-yellow energy as Sunny's wings flared into being, and with a running start she was soon airborne. She quickly gained height and was soon level with the balloon. "Pipp! Can you hear me?"

"Barely!" Pipp replied. "Can you get me down?"

"Yes, but I'm going to need you to let go!" Sunny replied. Her next sentence was drowned out by a Coast Guard helicopter pulling up alongside the balloon.

The pilot glanced over. "Out of control object has been found. Moving into position for recovery and- am I seeing things?"

"Please repeat, over."

"Command, there's a person holding onto the anchoring rope. And another who seems to have wings."

Back at the balloon, Sunny began frantically gesturing to the pilot, moving her arms horizontally in an opening motion.

The pilot reached down and flicked a switch. One of the doors on the helicopter side opened up.

"Right, NOW!"

Pipp let go, and with incredible precision Sunny grabbed her before flying over to the helicopter and placing her next to the crew member working the crane. She then flew back and grabbed the anchoring rope.

She grimaced at the exertion required to shift the balloon back towards the coast, but then a freak wind began to blow it towards the ground.

A series of bright golden flashes alerted her to a problem. "No, not now!"

Her wings flared out of existance, and Sunny was left frantically holding on as the balloon continued to plummet towards the ground. It collided with the surface of the ground just over a bridge and collapsed.

Sunny looked forward as she heard a loud horn. "Oh no," she said. "That's the morning train!"

Just then, Salty rattled in behind and scooped her up. She fell onto the wagon and passed under the balloon as the diesel flew past it and rumbled to a stop in the platform at Perranwell.

"Well," Salty said. "I don't think we'll be forgettin' that one any time soon!"

The DMU working the passenger train looked over. "What in the name of Perkins is going on here?"

Pipp was taken back to Falmouth by the Coast Guard, and she was later released as she was unhurt. The balloon was backed up and secured inside the truck, and Sunny drove it back down to Falmouth.

The balloon was placed into the correct location, and when the passenger train arrived, everybody was waiting.

And sure enough, Misty stepped out onto the platform and walked into town. She stopped when she saw the preparations.

CONGRATULOTIONS ON YOUR RETURN, MISTY said the banner.

"Welcome home, Misty!" said a chorus of voices, and the five she had come to know so well stepped forward.

"We thought you should receive a hero's welcome after what you've been through," Pipp explained.

"Well, Pipp did. She roped the rest of us into it." Hitch grimaced as Sunny's elbow collided with his ribcage.

"You've had quite the ordeal," Izzy commented. "How are you feeling?"

"Glad to be alive," Misty said. "But it's a bit hard to say I have a home when I don't have a place to live."

"Where do you sleep then?"

"Bellerophon's footplate."

"Don't you get cold?"

"No," Misty replied. "I use the winter coat as a blanket."

Pipp was shocked. "We can't have you sleeping on Bellerophon's footplate night after night!" she said. "You can stay with us!"

"Have you checked this with mom first?" Zipp asked.

"I imagine she'll agree when she learns the truth," Pipp replied.

Misty blinked, and wiped something out of her eyes. "I don't know what to say. Thank you, guys." The sensation she had felt back at the hospital was once again there.

She may have had no clue who her biological parents were, but it was here she felt she truly belonged. And these five were her true family.

Author's Note

This chapter is based on the Dad's Army episode The Day the Balloon Went Up, which deals with an uncooperative balloon and a perilous flight.

With some more self-aware humour and a character changing sides, things have shifted a bit away from the source material. But things are soon to hot up!

Trial by Fire

Argyle knew he was in for a rather unusual day when he received a call from the harbourmaster. He had just gotten home and had gone to the top level of the lighthouse to look out over the sea, as was his custom, when his mobile began beeping.

"Hello? This is Argyle Starshine."

"Ah! Argyle! Glad you picked up, me lad." The harbourmaster was a veteran sailor through and through. "Your daughter and her friends, they run all that railway stuff, right?"

"That's correct. I assume there's something important going on."

"Correct. As you probably know, Falmouth used to be a terminal for large ocean liners, but most call at Penzance these days. However, I got some bad news regarding the weather."

Argyle looked out to sea. "I can see a storm out there somewhere."

"Well, a liner was damaged in the storm and can't get to Penzance. It's being towed into Falmouth, and the passengers need to be taken to Truro. This is where you come in. According to GWR, they can't get one of their IETs down to Falmouth due to gauging issues, so you'll need to assemble a train and get those passengers up there."

Argyle sighed. "I'll ask if that's at all possible."

"Good work, lad! The town is relying on you."

"How many coaches did you say?" Hitch asked.

"The liner company specified ten," Argyle told the young man. "That liner has a lot of passengers onboard, and not only that is arriving tomorrow morning. We haven't got long."

"Why not double head with Charles and Sophie?" Pipp suggested. "According to the books I read, British Rail used to pair them on most passenger work."

"The visitors specifically want a steam engine, which means Rebecca. I know she's unreliable, but she's also the most powerful steam engine we've got." Argyle leaned in over the table. "I know this isn't ideal, but we have to try. Railway history is full of heroic exploits like this, and those passengers do need to get to London."

Hitch nodded. "We'll try."

The next morning, work began on putting the train together. Salty, normally used for assembling freight, was working on putting together the rear section of the train.

"I think we've hit a slight snag!" he said to Sunny.

"And that is?" Sunny asked. "Apart from this fog."

"The train, when fully assembled, will be too long to fit in the platform. That can take five coaches maximum, and not all of our coaches are even the same length."

Sunny nodded. "That would mean the train would need to be put together after being loaded and then set off up the line. It will almost certainly need banking."

At the other end, Porter had been put into service putting the front end together. "Is this train even safe to operate?" he asked. "It appears to be a mixture of several different eras of coach, with some wooden bodied items!"

"We have to do the best with what we have," Izzy replied, as they moved the first few coaches into the second platform. "I'll be bringing my lucky bracelet just in case. It's got us out of other jinxie situations in the past."

Suddenly, there was a loud bang as they hit the buffers. Luckily, the coaches stayed on the rails, but there was some minor cracking to a window.

"Porter, you blithering idiot!"

At the top end of the line, Bellerophon had been put on duty as a rescue engine, or to use the modern term a 'Thunderbird'. The fog continued to drift lazily in over the Cornish hills as some freight arrived. "I'm not sure I like this weather," he said. "I can barely see."

There was no reply from the footplate.

"Misty?"

"I have no idea why they're being so nice to me," Misty said quietly. "Especially after what I did to them."

"Misty, Opaline was manipulating us!" Bellerophon replied. "She'd dangled our greatest desires in front of our eyes and used them as a bargaining chip. I think they can see that."

"It doesn't change the fact I stole from them," Misty sighed. "I can only hope I can regain their trust."

"The liner's just arrived!" a voice called. "Go to standby!"

The preparations for standby required Bellerophon to be moved to the bay platform to await the oncoming train. Once the move was complete, all fell quiet.

"Now," Bellerophon said. "We wait."

The Duchess had just finished her docking procedure at Falmouth harbour, and the passengers were streaming off the liner towards their train.

"Please proceed in an orderly manner to the station," Sunny told them over a megaphone. "Passengers with surnames beginning with the letters A to M proceed to platform 1. Plassengers with surnames beginning with the letters N to Z proceed to platform 2."

She glanced over to Goldie. "Here's hoping this doesn't all break down."

The passengers made it to the station, and were quite surprised. "Nobody told us we were going on a preserved railway!" said one.

"Toy engines! What a joke!" said another.

Porter, who had been allocated to bank the heavy train out of the station, looked over. "Do you want to get to Truro or not?"

Izzy was trying to read the sky as best she could. "This fog doesn't bode well," she said. "A great fog descended over Heywood once, and made getting around very difficult."

"Didn't the AWS also stop working?" Porter asked.

"Yes. Still, could be worse."

Hitch had just finished backing Rebecca onto the coaches, and was now waiting for the passengers to board. "I'm concerned," he admitted.

"The run ahead worrying you?" Rebecca asked. "To be honest, I think all will be fine."

"This load is considerably heavier than anything we've historically tested you with," Hitch countered. "If we stall on the hill we're in a right mess."

"Well, try not to stall then."

At last, boarding was complete, and Hitch gently eased Rebecca forward until the rear of the fifth coach was in front of the points. Rebecca whistled twice to alert the signalman to her current location, and once the points were reset she backed onto the coaches and prepared for departure.

The guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag. Rebecca whistled. "Ready!"

Porter whistled back. "Ready!"

With a great snorting of steam and twin percussive blasts from the cylinders, the massive train got underway. Porter's march harsher exhaust contrasted greatly with Rebecca's much softer exhaust, and the mixture of two and three cylinder beats produced an odd hypnotic effect.

They continued to climb through the valleys and up the hills, with the fog continuing to be a constant adversary. Speeds weren't especially high, so the work was pretty hard, but both engines kept on going.

Pipp and her followers had turned out at Penrhyn to see the train through. She set her camera running. "Here comes the special, Pippsqueaks! Cheer that train on!"

"PIPP PIPP HOORAY!" called her assembled online audience as the massive formation stormed through the station and charged the bank out of the station.

"Keep it up!" Hitch called, over the wind and rain.

"Keep it up?" Izzy replied over the radio. "Porter's going fine here!"

"I could take on the world!" Porter added, as they crested the next summit and ran over the slope. They flew down another hill and through Perranwell, before tackling the final climb to Truro.

Unfortunately, things soon went wrong. Rebecca's wheels began to slip violently.

"What's going on up there?" Porter called.

"Black ice!" Hitch called. "I'll have to shut off steam!"

With a series of rolls and groans, the train began to slow down, before grinding to a halt at the foot of the tunnel.

"Can we restart the train?" Izzy asked.

"No," Hitch replied over the radio. "If we stall in that tunnel, we risk flooding the coaches with carbon monoxide."

"That would be bad," Izzy replied, understating it somewhat.

"Why not call the others?" Rebecca suggested.

The station telegraph at Truro buzzed, and the station master ran out to Bellerophon. "The special's failed!" he called. "The rescue engine is needed. Thunderbirds are go!"

"Us?" Misty said, sounding somewhat shaky.

"We've been through tougher scrapes than this," Bellerophon encouraged her. "You can do this, I know it."

Misty nodded, and released the engine's brakes. With a wheesh of steam, Bellerophon set off for the breakdown site. When they arrived, they saw Charles and Salty being added to the back of the formation.

"I'm glad you're here, buddy!" Rebecca said. "We're in a bit of a pickle, as you can see, so can you help us?"

"We'll try," Misty said, as she rolled Bellerophon to a stop at Rebecca's buffers. Hooking up was complete seconds later, and back on the footplate she blasted the whistle.

Rebecca answered, followed by a whistle and two horn blasts from the diesels.

"Let's go!" Rebecca called, and dug into the rails. Bellerophon led the way, guiding the train into the tunnel.

"Heave ho, haul together!" Salty called. "Hoist the colours high!"

Charles cheered as his engine went to maximum revs. "POWER!"

With this incredible display of engine power, the train soon arrived at Truro, where a train from the mainline was waiting to take the passengers home to London. "Cracked out the museum pieces, have we?" he said. "Never mind. You got the passengers home, and that's what counts."

The passengers crossed the footbridge to the other platform whilst the drivers got to conversing amongst themselves. "That was an incredible display, guys," Hitch said. "Thanks for coming to the rescue. Being stuck would suck."

"That's what friends are for," Sunny replied. "As Salty put it, we need to pull together sometimes to achieve great things."

"And a special mention to Misty," Izzy said. "She and Bellerophon were doing the work of three engines based on much noise they were making! I'll organise a special sleepover in her honour!"

"Why not use our house?" Zipp suggested. "There's more space and we can spread out more easily."

Misty beamed with pride. Far from being one of the outcasts and a spy for an enemy power, it seemed as though she truly had friends at last.

Author's Note

This chapter is based on an episode of Over the Hills, a webseries produced by Angry Welshman Productions (the character of Rhys in Backwards to the Forwards is based on the owner of the channel). It also serves as the final chapter of Misty's redemption arc, with her now a fully fledged member of the Falmouth crew.

And tomorrow will see the final chapter. But never fear, for this series is far from over!

Regatta

Salty and Porter are the engines most likely to be allocated to work the dockside owing to their short wheelbases and reasonable amounts of power. As a result, the workers at the warehouses and wharfs on the dockside have come to know their faces especially well. Whether it be sailors, machinery, fish, or merchandise, these engines are the powerhouse behind the docks and waterways of Falmouth. This is-

"Wrong series, mr narrator! You adapted Tugs back in 2021!"

Izzy, please stop breaking the fourth wall. Back to the story.

Their drivers enjoy it too. Sunny, of course, grew up here, and as such the sea is one of her oldest friends. Izzy grew up further inland, but the sea is still a concept to her, and as such living next to it never ceases to fill her with wonder. One morning, all sorts of new ships arrived. There were ships with white sails, ships with blue sails, and ships with red sails, to name a few. In fact, every colour of the rainbow was represented by the ships bobbing gently in the harbour.

"Ooh!" Izzy said. "What's going on?"

"It's the Falmouth Maritime Museum's annual regatta," Sunny explained, peering into a mug she was holding. "Lots of people bring their restored boats to Falmouth and exhibit them, and the museum gives them a rating based on numerous factors, such as equipment, quality of build, and what type of boat they are. Somebody brought a paddle steamer along once, which was very popular with the tourists."

"Aye," Salty said. "And I can see the sailin' ships made out of sticks and string."

"Most modern boats like this are made of a mixture of steel and fibreglass," Sunny pointed out.

"It's a sea shanty." Salty sighed. "I can only wonder what going to sea would be like. I've spent my workin' life potterin' up and down the dockside, and never have I been across any body of water."

"That's because engines don't float," Porter said. "We tend to sink, which is a horrifying thought."

"Yeah, I read that article about engines stuck at the bottom of the Red Sea," Izzy added. "Scary."

One of the sailors walked past them, so Salty decided to venture a question. "Excuse me, but have you ever been beyond the horizon?"

"Sadly, no," the sailor replied. "The problem with trying to go beyond the horizon is that it keeps moving away from you. It's like trying to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow."

Izzy perked up. "There's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? That's my next expedition!"

"Izzy, that's a saying," Sunny explained. "Trying to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is a way of saying that somebody's course of action is fruitless."

"Oh." Izzy's face dropped, then returned to normal. "I'll go look for something else then."

"Besides," Porter said to Salty, "I quite like the rails. Unlike fish. The rails take us to all the places we need to go, even if there can sometimes be errors. One such error meant we missed that gala at Paignton."

"Arr," Salty said. "But that did have one positive benefit."

"It was the very thing that meant that Sunny and I met!" Izzy squealed.

Suddenly, a loud klaxon blared over the dockside.

"What does that mean?" Porter asked.

"It's a warning," Salty said.

"I figured that much out, Captain Obvious."

Suddenly, a man ran up to them. "Salty, you're needed for a special mission!"

"What's happened?" Sunny asked.

"A man taking part in the regatta has been injured, and needs to be taken to hospital. The hospital at Truro lacks a helipad, and there's roadworks, so you'll need to move him by rail. Collect a coach and get going!"

"Aye aye, captain!" Salty replied, and once Sunny was back onboard he rolled backwards through the dockside. "Do what you want 'cause a pirate is free..."

The man shook his head. "I wasn't in the officer class when I was in the Royal Navy."

The injured man was soon delivered to Falmouth station, where he was helped onboard the coach by a paramedic. Salty then set off on his way, climbing through the valleys and over the hills he had come to know so very well. When they arrived at Truro, more doctors were waiting to help the man to hospital.

"Bravo!" called Nigel. "You did a fantastic job out there. Even if it was rather unconventional."

"That's faster than I normally go," Salty admitted. "But what matters is this man is safe and can be treated."

"Though getting back to Falmouth might be an interesting challenge," Sunny admitted.

The return run to Falmouth proceeded without incident, and that evening, when work was done, Salty and Porter stayed on the quayside to watch the ships of the regatta bob up and down.

"Looks lovely with the evening sun," Porter admitted. "You know, this might be the most stunning place... in the world."

"Don't let Charles hear you say that," Salty laughed. "He's very particular about that sort of thing."

Sunny and Izzy were positioned slightly further forward on the seafront, also watching the sun. "We sure have had some interesting adventures over the last few months," Sunny reflected.

"That's true," Izzy said. "I was just thinking about what Porter said earlier. If the points had been set correctly, we'd likely never have met, and the magic might never have been restored. Funny how life works like that."

"That's the butterfly effect," Sunny explained. "Explained simply, it's how very small, minute actions can end up having long lasting consequences, both good and bad. And considering what we've learned in that time about living alongside sentient machines, I can only wonder what lies beyond the horizon."

"Yeah," Izzy said. "Where will our adventures take us next?"

Sunny smiled. "I wonder that too. But what's most important is that I'll be doing it with you guys by my side."

And all was well that positive evening. But Sunny was right, in a way. The times ahead would bring hard challenges and new adventures, as well as new threats to the utopia they had built.

But I shan't say any more, or I shall spoil the next story.

Author's Note

This chapter, the final one of this story, is based on the TTTE episode 'All at Sea', not to be confused with the episode 'Salty all at Sea'. Small elements of the Tugs episode 'Regatta' have been worked in as well.

And yes, this story has come to an end. But never fear! This is far from the last we have seen of the Falmouth crew. Keep a close eye on your feeds for new stories.

And as is tradition, roll credits!

Opening Titles

Fimfiction Proudly Presents

An Anthology by The Blue EM2

Sponsored by the Guild of Equestrian Railroaders

And Based on an Idea by Thomlight Sparkle

Starring the Voices of:

Vanessa Hudgens

Kimiko Glenn

Sofia Carson

Liza Koshy

James Marsden

Jane Krakowski

Michael McKean

Bahia Watson

Keith Whickam

Rachel Miller

Theresa Gallagher

Richard Hammond

Jeremy Clarkson

James May

Richard E. Grant

Athena Karkanis

And Geoffrey Rush

Animation by Boulder Media and Arc Productions

Model Effects and Sequences recorded at Ellstree Studios

A Hasbro and Mattel Co-Production, Copyright MMXXIII

Closing Credits

Voice Cast-in Order of Appearance:

Richard E. Grant-Lord Haven
Jodie Whittaker-Alexandra
Jeremy Clarkson-Captain Charles
Richard Hammond-Porter
Keith Whickam-Salty, Assorted Voices
Kimiko Glenn-Izzy Moonbow, Sugar Moonlight
James Marsden-Hitch Trailblazer, Angus
Liza Koshy-Zipp Storm
Vanessa Hudgens-Sunny Starscout
Bahia Watson-Misty, Rosedust, Assorted Voices
Athena Kakarnis-Opaline
Sofia Carson-Pipp Petals
Rob Cullen-Rob
Bob Golding-Baz
Robert Rackstraw-Bernie
James May-Ray
Joseph Swash-Bellerophon
Geoffrey Rush-P.T.Boomer
Sam Heughan-Fraser
Michael McKean-Argyle Starshine
Jeremy Irons-The Reverend Wilbert Awdry, Thornaby
Tara Strong-Goldie
Gwion Rhys Davies-Rhys
A. J. Bridel-Tinsley, Pony Pipp Petals, Onyx
Anna May-Truong-Posey Bloom
Samantha Bielanski-Jazz Hooves
Jane Krakowski-Lady Haven
Nathan Evans-Harvey
MacKenzie Crook-Brookes
Aaron Barashi-AEG Thomas
Neil Crone-AEG Gordon
Adam Driver-Emperor Hatt
J. J. Gerber-Pony Hitch Trailblazer
Jenna Warren-Pony Sunny Starscout, AEG Carly
Ana Sani-Pony Izzy Moonbow
Maitreyi Ramakrishnan-Pony Zipp Storm
Jai Armstrong-AEG Harold
Will Harrison-Wallace-AEG Cranky
Jeremy Brown-Himself
John 'Lefty' Lethbridge-Himself
The Fisherman's Friends-Themselves
Toby Jones-Nigel
Simon Farnaby-Hector
Steve Blum-Isaac Moonbow
Kerry Shale-Cyril

Sunny and her friends will return in Thomas and Friends: Race to the Edge!