HIGH-SPEEDO PADDING

Things seemed to be going back to normal on the section of the Other Railway (otherwise known as the section of Ponyville's Marshalling Yard). With Conrad gone whence he came, the engines and rolling stock could get a moment of peace (or, at least, a moment without harassment). However, Old Stuck-Up's overhaul took a longer than expected (no surprise there, folks, Sir Wyatt Fronts, or, more appropriately, the Thin Git, wasn't famous for paying much for the well being of his engines and employees... If any). And when Beatrice had to leave as well, they found themselves missing not only her, but Conrad as well, as the workload kept increasing - the mid of summer was approaching, and tourist, vacationers, businesscolts off to their summer cottages, and, of course, the generic summertime freight increase.

Actually, scratch "normal".

Things were getting harder and harder...

And their troubles were far from being "over".

"Take it easy, Sugahcab!"

It was one of those windy days. Rain had fallen the night prior, and the rails were slippery. Clouds, dark as ink, were still visible in the distance.

Spamcan was rushing down the slope, a long line of chromed tankers in tow.

Applejack was worried.

They were speeding.

The train was going faster down the slope than it should have been, especially with the track conditions they had. But they were in a hurry. Not the hurrying of someone who's late. Nor was it the hurrying of someone scared, stressed, or angry.

It was the rush of one who's just... Moving. Fast.

"I'm tryin', A.J.!" the diesel replied "Bu' th' train's heavy! Th' soone' we reach th' bo'om o' th' slope, th' be'e'! We migh' as well kee' this speed!"

How wrong he was.

Applejack quietly agreed, and continued to watch the scenery zoom pass them, as the the windshield's windows swallowed the sight with their edges. The motor rumbling loudly behind her, and the sound of the trucks' wheels spinning, their bogies and frames rattling, and the steady crescendo of the wind rushing around the rotund bodies that make up the train.

The sound fills the air, taking her off the ground, just for a short section of the second passing. Her mind trailed off, listening to the discordant, yet monotonous sound of the train's movement, eyes still resting on the track ahead of them, but now glossy.

One moment.

That's all it took.

She was dragged back to her senses by Spamcan's horn going off, as he shouted:

"A.J., BRAKES! SLAM ON TH' BRAKES!"

She looked up, noticing the tight bend ahead.

Her hooves slammed on the brakes, but it was of no use!

The wheels of the diesel and the trucks screeched as the brakes tried to grind them to a halt, but the wet tracks, the momentum and weight of the train had already sealed their fate.

There was a slim chance that they would of escaped it... But the rails weren't sturdy enough to support such weight.

"JUMP FO' I', A.J.!" the engine yelled. Reluctantly, Applejack did so.

Just in time!

With a loud, metallic CRACK! that echoed around the hillside, the rails beneath Spamcan broke as he hit the bend, wheels screeching and throwing sparks in his last, futile attempt at stopping. He tore off, and landed on the embankment, sending stones out into the air to scatter around the area. His front bogie jumped the bank, but his middle was on the falling course, and it landed hard on the tracks - he could feel his fuel tanks crack, the pain surged through his structure. The tankers, carried by the momentum left after their previous speed and their given weight, crashed into each other, and into his rear, denting his buffers, as his other bogie flew off the tracks, followed by the rest of the train.

As his wheels landed on the grassy meadow beside the line, he tipped, and fell onto his side, still continuing to move, slipping while the trucks followed him.

One by one, they fell of the tracks, crashing into each other, couplings snapping, buffers and frames bending and breaking.

A few of the tankers even cracked as they piled upon each other. The truck right behind him crashed into him, and crushed his rear cab, sending an excruciating surge of pain through his body, only to be subdued by an even greater agony, as his front boggle tore off when he hit a twisty, dead tree, standing in solitude in the center of the weedy, rocky field the meadow turned into a few yards away from the line.

One by one, the trucks crashed, as the train coiled up like a snake... Or more like an accordion.

At long last, the diesel skidded to a halt. His windshield was cracked on the side which hit the dirt, joining his usually cracked center one. His tank still ached, and now felt empty, it's contents seeped out along the way, now covered up by the stuff oozing from the cracked tankers, some of which were on fire as well...

He coughed up - what felt like - motor oil and grease, and glanced around. He couldn't see much of the train wreck from that angle, but he care, either. He just wanted to make sure that his driver was alright.

Finally, he saw her.

Sitting on the other side of the tracks, where the meadow was steeper, was Applejack, seemingly alright, sitting in the tall grass of the field, a bit dirty, covered in grass stains, especially her hat, and with a few light bruises (aforementioned tall grass is a very good cushion-material).

Her mouth agape, her eyes wide open, her pupils dot-sized, as she stared at the accident displayed in front of her.

With little luck, she had seen the whole thing, from the point where he derailed, to the climax where the last truck flew off the tracks, hit the burning pile of the others that landed before him, ricochet, and burst apart as it hit the ground.

He didn't called out to her, allowing the experience to sink into her mind. If Head Office wouldn't deal with the problems of the older infrastructure anytime soon, she'll be seeing more accidents like this.

Finally, when she snapped out of her daze, and began rushing towards him - with a noticeable limp, which made her wince every time she used that leg - he allowed himself to pass out, giving space to the effusive, zymotic fever dreams...

"We'll HAVE to hurry up with structural improvement!"

Alexei's words sounded more serious than upset, as he dropped the thick file onto the table, creating a smaller earthquake within the room.

"Out of all the previous accidents, this has to be the most devastating..." the Controller sighed "Thirty tankers derailed, all of which completely destroyed or damaged beyond the point where their restoration would be economic, one severely damaged engine, that is now in need of a complete overhaul, a 4000 square's worth of soil dug up twenty feet deep for replacement, ALL OF THIS, that could been avoided by renovating 500 meters worth of track..." he finished with a scowl.

"Any casualties?" the Director asked.

"None." came the short reply.

"What about the driver?" the Chairmare asked.

"Applejack's fine..." the stickly figure sighed "Sure, she's a bit shaken, but it couldn't have been that much of a trauma, if SHE was the one who called us."

He fixed his glasses as the two Princesses waited for him to continue...

"...Anyways, she had given a thorough check up by the paramedics, and I personally advised her to visit the hospital for an extra overlook, but she refused..."

The two alicorns exchanged looks as their friend went on.

"It seems like she decided it was HER duty to gather the money for Spamcan's repairs..."

"The stress of the accident, perhaps?" the younger diarch asked.

"Most likely..." Alexei replied "Anyways... You'll have to visit Applejack soon... She won't work with the replacement engine, as she'll be trying to gather the bits to fix Spamcan, which means she'll be working herself to death in the family orchard..."

He paused for a moment, gazing at his friends and colleges.

"Now... What was the most biggest, stable income of Sweet Apple Acres?" he asked.

"Their deliveries to Canterlot!" the Chairmare replied "The farm's near by, and the tracks almost literally lead to the freight yard..."

Then, she realized something...

"I can approach them with that... But..." she looked worried "With Applejack out of work, they will be gathering even LESS bits than before!"

"Don't worry!" Alexei smiled "If Applejack IS more seriously injured than first believed to be, the railway will HAVE to pay compensation to the family..."

"That still doesn't covers the clean-up!" Luna added.

"Luna." her friend's voice was stern "It. Was. An. Accident. Neither Diesel 199, or Apple Jacqueline is responsible for the events. The accident was due to an ill maintained piece of track and overloaded tanker wagons. If ANYONE'S, it is OUR fault."

He gave them a tired look.

"But, as usual, I pay for it!" he added, without any tone of pride, or frustration "So don't worry about it!"

"Right... I'll visit Sweet Apple Acres as soon as possible..." Celestia declared.

"Now, moving on from personal matters..." Alexei continued, with a scolding tone "About the replacement..."

"We've informed Trottingham Junction, and three engine will be sent to deal with 40125's and D199's duties, and also, to help with the extra workload." Luna explained.

Her sister was puzzled.

"Oh? What about Old Stuck-Up? His overhaul should be done by now..."

"HIS overhaul takes more time, as they are also running tests to see WHICH compartments should be replaced." Alex explained "Spamcan's will take a MUCH shorter time, facing the fact that he crashed, so it's best to clean out everything... Anyways, Rarity announced her willingness to continue her work with the supplementary engine, IF it is at least HALF as sublime as Stuck-Up was."

"Hmmm... Can we provide such an auxiliary locomotive?" Celestia asked.

"The three engines are number D701 "Skinhead", D1001 "Western Pathfinder", and D782 "Andy"..."

"...I remember these numbers, but I can't recall the names..." Luna muttered.

"That's because they go by the names Rhodders, Matthias and Brock." Alex explained "They'll manage fine, and, if you listen to my advice, Rarity will get her wish granted..."

The three diesels arrived in the dead of the night... They didn't parked into the sheds, as the rightful residents of the yard were already asleep, and there's few things more violating than an irate diesel just woken from his or her sweet dreams, HOURS from the start of his or her shift. The night was cool and comfortable outside, anyways...

Early next morning, the drivers and workponies gathered outside the sheds.

The cafeteria's AC went kaput early in the morning, so it was already boiling inside. They quickly bought their food (feeling sorry for the clerk who had to spent the rest of the day there), and scuttled into the safe temperature of the shadows...

"So, he's totalled?" Rainbow Dash asked now, between two bites.

"Pretty much." Spike replied "Not as bad as his trucks, though. I mean, he COULD be saved!"

"Oh, I hope he'll be alright..." Fluttershy muttered "I couldn't dare to imagine how Applejack would react if it would turn out that Spamcan couldn't be saved..."

"Let's abandon such thoughts, altogether!" Rarity announced, then smiled, reassuringly "D199's a strong engine, and stubborn, too! He even rivals Applejack in the latter attribute... I'm sure he'll pull through!"

"I hope you're right, Rarity..." the cream pegasus replied "But... Where's Applejack?"

"I don't know... I haven't seen her since yesterday..." Spike replied "But she looked sick with worry... And she had a bad limp..."

"A limp?" Twilight asked.

"Yeah, on her left rear leg!" the dragon went on "I told her not to put pressure on it, and Mr. Alexei advised her to visit a real doctor after the paraponies dealt with her, but she just scoffed us off..." he muttered, scratching the back of his head "She said something about earning money for the repairs... I didn't quite catch that part..."

"You don't suppose...?" Twilight asked, looking worried.

"I told her that the railway pays for it, but she wanted to hear none of it!" Spike went on"She winced with every step she took with that leg... If she wants to cover Spamcan's repairs with applebucking, she'll end up in a wheelchair!"

"We CAN'T let that happen!" Rainbow declared, standing up "We'll have to stop her for her own good!"

"Why do YOU care all of a sudden?!" Rarity growled "Aren't we on "trial", or something?!"

"You are." the pegasus replied calmly "But I'd never leave my friends hangin'. Applejack needs our help... Well, a doctor's help, and she won't get there on her own..."

"...Very well..." the white mare replied "But we'll have to leave immediately!"

"No you don't!" a voice called out to them.

They looked up to see Dr. Whooves came rushing towards them, looking quite frustrated.

"You have a job to do! We already got two drivers down, and I simply can't allow any more to leave! Half of the workponies are dealing with Spamcan, so there's just a few left to finish up 40125, and we also need a basic crew to deal with the engines and the yard shift... I'm already pressing the guys more than I should! Thankfully, Pinkie and Steamie had already dealt with the morning shunting, so AT LEAST, were not too badly delayed! However, they were too tired to continue, as they helped with the clean-up through the whole afternoon yesterday, AND the whole night!"

"So THAT'S why she didn't came to work!" Twilight exclaimed.

"They didn't had to!" the Doctor went on "None of you HAVE to, you're only trainers, so, if it's necessary, you can skip a day or two, but right now, I'm BEGGING you to help!"

"We will!" Twilight declared.

"But what about A.J.?" Rainbow asked.

"I've already informed her family about the accident." the brown earth pony replied "They expressed their concerns about Spamcan, but were relieved to know that Applejack was alright. I also told them about her injury, and they agreed to keep an eye out out on her, and take her to the hospital if it seems to be anything serious."

"Good." Rarity uttered "Now... About the replacement engines..."

"Ah, yes!" the Doctor replied, and whipped out a clipboard "They arrived last night, and are eager to work."

"Who are they, anyway?" Rainbow asked.

"Three diesels from Trottingham Junction..." the stallion replied, still looking at the clipboard...

"We knew THAT..." Spike muttered...

"Number D701, D782, and D1001..."

"That's... Rhodders, Brock and Matthias!" the lavender unicorn muttered, recalling the names "I... Guess they're OK... I mean, Rhodders is the same kind of engine as Vac... Well, somewhat, he's a NORMAL Class 31, while Brock is a Clas 40 like Bowler and Old Stuck-Up, and Matthias is... Some sort of diesel-hydraulic, I think..."

"Rainbow Dash, you and the Iron Twins stay here for the day... With Steamie and Pinkie out of the picture, you three will have to make up for it."

"Gotcha!" Dash replied, and flew of to the now opened doors of the sheds...

"Rarity, you'll find the express in the yard, the engine in charge has decided to pick it up himself, and is now waiting for his driver." the Doctor went on "The rest of you... The usual!"

He paused, and thought for a moment.

"Oh! Wait, no!" he then turned to the shy pegasus "Fluttershy! You and Derek will be assisting Rhodders and BoZo on track repair duty. After yesterday's accident, the Princesses and the Controller pressed on maintenance duty and infrastructural renovation. You'll be working on the sector's branch lines, so may take more than one day..."

"Understood." Fluttershy replied softly, and with that, she fluttered away...

Despite the overload, the express units, Pip and Emma were left without a job. Of course, Cloud Chaser and Flitter did show up, but found themselves loitering around the Twins' berths...

It was the middle of the summer season, and the fillies, colts, mares and stallions that were going to school SHOULD have been replaced by the near infinite streams of themselves (with their families beside them and in holiday clothes) had vanished without a trace...

As it turned out, the Equestrian railway had a rough history with summertime, lots off accidents related to old, jumpy coaches without air conditioning, and smokey, overheating steam engines bursting a cylinder, stalling the journey for hours, or sometimes, even days!

Despite the two Class 43's best efforts, the ponies remained mistrustful.

They offered to take over the express from Stuck-Up, as they run exactly the same route, just with fewer passengers, as it was rapid commuter train, always on the move...

The Express, however, was always fully loaded, and unlike their train, it only stopped at few larger stations, or sometimes, only at the end stations, so they HAD to keep up their top speed all the way...

A routine job for these type of engines, however, pretty much like all the other Other Railway engines, Pip and Emma were also neglected engine-wise and Dr. Whooves didn't dare to allow them to take on... Well, not without a serious overhaul, which, in the current conditions, was out of question...

Thus, they were put on back-up duty... Having Derek and BoZo put under heavy work, and the temperaments this season gave, they didn't had to wait long to find themselves work... Until that, all they could do was mope around in the sheds, with their drivers trotting about, equally bored... They just hoped it wouldn't be one of the shunters who broke down first...

Rarity approached the diesel with caution. It gave her a friendly smile from under his hoary eyebrows... He was old, definitely older than Stuck-Up, but unlike Juggernaut, BoZo, or the Brakefather, his eyes didn't had that glossy look of tiredness, but rather... A glow of wisdom.

Sure, he was old, but not too old.

His color was a rich, reddish maroon one, with a light, whitish cream colored patch around his windshields, and bright, hazard yellow buffer beams below his face with shiny, round buffers.

His nameplate, black with a golden edge and lettering, stated that he was "Western Pathfinder", and a white number under his cab windows declared that he was also "D1001".

He didn't had the same air of elegance around him like her engine, but rather, an aura of experience...

Hesitantly, she smiled back.

"Good morning." the engine spoke "You're Rarity Belle, right?"

His voice was kind and calm... It had a certain... Wood-like texture, so to speak, the type of voice you'd hear from an old man who's still doing a job he likes, that requires handwork. The voice of a not-too-elderly grandfather...

"Good morning." she replied, now confident "And you must be Matthias..."

"Indeed I am..." the old diesel chuckled "So... You were driving Old Stuck-Up before?"

"I prefer to call him "Sir Alaric", but yes..." the mare replied.

"Very well..." the engine smirked "Let's get working, shall we?"

Meanwhile, Rhodders was busy helping the renovation team - their location now fixed to the single-track branch line where Spamcan had derailed.

It was hard work for the ponies, while it was a tedious waste of time for the spiteful diesel. To no-one's surprise, Derek quickly overheated under the blazing sun, and BoZo had to tow him back to the repair shed, only to break down himself, a few miles down the line. Taking them back to the yards was the only excitement the Class 30 had, and he was getting short on patience...

"C'mon!" he grumbled "Why wouldn't you ponies work faster? It's only ONE line!"

"It's hard work!" a pegasus replied "And we HAVE to do a proper job, or there could be another accident, thanks to our shabby work!"

"An' the last thing we want is to have our flanks hooved to us by the Princesses themselves!" an earth pony added.

"Or the Controller!" another spoke.
"Fine..." Rhodders sighed, but kept muttering angrily to himself...

Matthias, on the other hand, was having a wonderful time:

The express was easier than the old engine had expected - he made excellent time, and the passengers expressed their gratitude for an exceptionally smooth run.

While working at Trottingham Junction, Matthias' work consisted mostly of slow goods and local passenger trains, so it was a nice change to have a long run - it comfortably tired him out, and he was welcomed in all stations.

On his way to Canterlot, he met with Brock, coming from the opposite direction.

"Hello, chap!" he called out to him "What's up with the tankers?"

"I'm taking them back to Hoofington." the Class 40 replied grumpily. He had a record of pulling miles long, heavy trains, so his current job felt embarrassing "They carried a special delivery to the Chairmare herself!"

"Really?" Rarity asked "What was it then, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I... Suppose I don't..." Brock replied, a bit perplexed. He was not used to people (aside from Matthias) speak politely with him.

"So what was in the tankers, Brock?" the Class 52 asked now.

"Lube."

"Oh, that's sounds lovel--..." Rarity cut off in mid sentence, as the reply slowly sank in...

"You mean... All of these were full of...?" Matthias' eyes were as wide as saucers. He couldn't believe what he had heard!

"...Damn..." was all the white mare could utter, when she finally found her voice. But Brock and the tankers were already gone...

The green diesel arrived on time, waited for the shunters, cussed relentlessly as he waited in front of a faulty signal bridge, and, at long last, he was on his way home - only to be flagged down at the next station. A special train, carrying new generators for the nearby power plant passed through there, and the engine (The Passing Diesel) didn't noticed that he accidentally left more than half of it behind (though, it was more likely that he lost it on purpose, as even one generator was a pain to tow).

"GODDAMNIT!" Brock yelled (and to be honest, that was the only thing printable of what he said), but pulled the train anyway...

It was hard work, and the sun was still scorching, even though it was dusk already. Despite that, it all went well, until he reached a hill.

"Fook! I'll never get up this one!" he murmured, and his driver called for a back engine.

When Pip and Emma heard the news, they were most eager to help - and so were their drivers.

"Great!" Flitter cheered.

"Yeah, about time!" Cloud Chaser replied, climbing into Emma's cab.

The High-Speed Twins were fitted with front buffers (something which they were quite peeved about - but secretly proud of, as well), filled up at the depot and set off...

Brock had stalled at a distant point on the line, so it took the some time to get there.

By the time they arrived, the sun was barely a stripe of orange that slowly faded into the horizon. The twins came as quickly as possible, which, you gotta believe, WAS quick! They were express units after all!

That, however, wasn't enough for Brock.

"The fook took you two so long? I've been waiting here for bloody hours!"

"It was a long way!" Emma exclaimed "Besides, you should be glad we came to help you!"

"Tch! Some fookin' help YOU'LL be!" the Class 40 grunted "You're just multiple units! How could ya help?! That, and with you two being High-Speeds, why the delay?"

"Be quiet, you!" Pip growled back. She had been silent until then, and the others were surprised.

The quieter Class 43 glanced at her Dark-Olive college indignantly.

"You didn't even tried to get up this hill on your own, but rather sat on your wheels and wait for someone else to do the hardest part of the job for you. YOU'RE the freight engine, not us, YOU were supposed to deliver this, not US! But YOU were too lazy to make an attempt at the first obstacle you came across. You should be grateful we even came! Hadn't it been an order, you'd been stuck here for a whole day! Now shut up and get moving, you fat git!"

Brock was lost for words...

His driver, a younger stallion who had been working for on the railway for a few years by then, was much more cooperative, and was pleased to meet the two pegasi drivers.

"A right bastard this lark is!" he chuckled, tapping the diesel's side "But your engines seem quite handy. So let's get this show on the road!"

Soon enough, the twins coupled up: Pip at the back, and Emma at the front.

The radio transceivers cracked to life.

"This is Flitter! Is everpony ready? Over!"

"This is Steel Miller! Everything's in order! Over!"

"Good! Cloud, are you ready? Over!"

"As I'll ever be! Over and out!"

Needles to say, ponies liked to mess about with short range telecommunication equipment.

One by one, the engines roared to life. Motors revved long and loud, as the heavy train began to move...

"Steady now!" Steel Miller ordered "Save your energy to the hill."

"Hmph!" Brock growled "We're locomotives, we don't save energy! We save fuel!"

Soon enough, they arrived to the bottom of the hill.

"Alright, on the count of three!" Cloud Chaser announced. The three engines revved their motors.

"One. Two. THREE!"

"HEAVE!" Brock growled, and, roaring loudly, he began to pull his train. Emma did her best to help, but the train was heavy, and it was putting a strain on her frame. Pip was having trouble as well.

"Uh! It wasn't this steep when we came down..." she muttered to herself.

Inside her cab, Flitter was trying her best to encourage the Class 43.

"C'mon, girl, you can do this! *huff* This hill is n-nothing! You've been through worse! *wheeze* Just a bit more!"

"A bit more?! We barely started going up!" the diesel hissed. Flitter was having trouble herself: the cab was heating up.

"*Huff* W-Wh-What is going on here?" she panted, wiping her forehead.

Brock, for the most part, was doing fine.

The train WAS heavy, but nothing he hadn't dealt with before. He had to admit, the twins were right: he WAS trying to weasel his way out of work!

But halfway up to the peak, something went wrong...

The Class 40 suddenly felt his train grow heavier. Just slightly, but still noticeable.

There was a sudden, loud BANG!, and he felt an extra weight in front of himself as well.

"What the Hell?" he muttered "Girl, did ya just backfired?"

Emma blushed madly, as her wheels slipped on the rails... Her engine skipped a beat, and a puff of bluish gray smoke blew out of her exhausts. But she was soon revving it again, picking up the weight...

"Steady, gal!" Brock called out to her "We're in no rush!"

"Sez... You!" Emma panted, and tugged hard.

Behind her, D728, Pip, and their drivers suddenly felt a great jolt, the couplings creaking under the strain.

The entire train lurched forward, the peak drawing closer and closer...

"We're... Doing it!" Emma cheered through her pain. Her driver was worried, however.

"Don't strain yourself, girl!" Chaser called out to her.

Her warning came too late.

Emma's motor started to cough, and she felt all strength leaving her. In the same time, Brock and Pip felt a new weight being added to the train's. Finally, Emma spluttered to a complete stop, blowing grayish, cigarette-like smoke from her exhausts...

"What's wrong?" Steel Miller's voice came through the radio with a crack.

"Emma's overheated." Cloud Chaser reported.

"Stupid gal. Told her not to strain..." Brock muttered to himself "Life's like a fart. If ya push it, it'll turn into shit."

"And how does that come into the picture?" his diver asked, indifferently.

"Why, you had just seen a textbook example for it..." the diesel smirked.

"Oh, be quiet, you...!" Miller growled back.

They continued...

Brock soon began to feel the extra weight, and, simultaneously, began to hope that once cooled down, Emma would be able to pull again. They were going slower than before, and their pace seemed to decrease with each meter they advanced.

"What the...? What is it now?" the green engine pondered.

An explosion from way behind gave him a hint...

"...Oh... Shit..."

"This is Cloud Chaser! Flitter, can you read me? Over!"

Silence...

"I repeat, this is Cloud Chaser! Flitter! Can you read me?! Over!"

Again, no reply...

"This is Cloud Chaser! Flitter! FLITTER! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" the pegasus was growing desperate.

But, once more, there was no answer.

"...Oh, Celestia Damn it! FLITTER! THIS ISN'T FUNNY, GIRL! GIVE A DAMN SIGN OF LIFE!" Miller's voice boomed loudly through the speakers.

After a short, but tension-filled moment, another radio cracked alive.

"Sorry, guys! I fell out of the seat! I thought I had died!" Flitter sounded exhausted.

"Oh, thank Celestia you're alive!" Cloud Chaser sighed.

"What happened?" Emma asked, curiously.

"Well... By the looks of it... Pip has blown her radiator!"

"Oh, great!" Brock's voice growled.

"How is she?" Emma asked.

"Knocked unconscious, but she's waking up!"

"Oooow..."

"I can hear that..." the stallion muttered "Brock, it's up to us now!"

"You mean, 'up to me', right?" D782 grunted. From what he could see, they weren't too far from the top, a couple hundred meters, and they're over the hard part... But until that...

"Celestia Damn it indeed..." he thought, and revved his engine. It roared louder and louder, as he increased his pull.

Slowly, the train inched forward...

"We're moving!" Emma peeped.

"S-SHADDAP! I'm trying!" the Class 40 throathed her down. He kept growling in strain, as his engine roared, the sound becoming deafening...

"By Luna's mane..." his driver muttered "We... YOU'RE doing it!"

The noise could be heard from miles around, as the train crept up the hill. Brock had his eyes shut and snarled as the strain increased with each second, but kept on going, nevertheless.

The flatbeds creaked under the weight of their load, and Pip, now fully conscious, was afraid that some of the ropes might snap, and the entire row of heavy machinery would come crashing down upon her.

Emma was cooling down steadily, and hoped she'll be able to restart. She could hear, heck, feel the immense effort the Dark-Olive diesel put in, the fact itself was (aside from being a slight turn-on) incredible.

"We're almost there!" the HST cheered, glancing ahead.

"S-SHADDAP!" Brock snapped. His frame was just starting to ache.

"Steady now!" Miller called out.

SCHINK!

The Class 40's wheels slipped.

"Oh, thanks a bloody lot! Now we're fooking JINXED!" Brock growled, satisfied to feel his driver shrink in his seat.

His wheels were still slipping, though...

He felt a jolt.

"NO! We're slipping back!" Emma cried.

This made him furious.

"Oh NO WE FOOKIN' WON'T!" he roared, and growling fiercely, he charged again!

The trucks suddenly hurtled forward, and Pip felt a sharp pull in her front coupling.

"Ow! What the...?!"

In the same time, Emma felt a mighty push from behind.

"OH! Easy there, green boy!" she cooed, blushing slightly.

The peak of the hill drew closer... And closer...

"WE'RE ON TOP!" Emma cried...

"No, we're not..." Chaser sighed "You ARE, though..."

She was right.

Emma was, indeed, already on the peak, but she forgot that the rest of the train was behind her.

"GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRH!" said a voice behind her.

"What is it, Brock?"

"URRRH! BRRRRKSSSSS!"

"...Excuse me?"

"BRRR-KSSS!"

"Say what?"

"BR-AKESSS!"

"You got aches? Poor guy..." she said softly "Don't worry! As soon as we get over this hill, the train will be much easier..."

"N-NO! BRRRAAAKESSS!"

"Ummm... Emma..." Cloud Chaser muttered, staring at the control panel in front of her.

"Yes, Chaser?"

"I think he meant your..."

"GOD FOOKIN' DAMN IT, WOMAN! RELEASE YOUR BLOODY BRAKES!" Brock roared.

"Oh."

Emma did so. But too quickly - the Class 40's wheels were still spinning at full speed (throwing sparks that set fire to the dry weed, growing on the old ballast beside the tracks).

The train suddenly hurtled forward, momentarily jumping off the tracks. The trucks smashed into each other, as the ripple went down the train. Pip felt a great tug on her coupling, and was suddenly tossed forward - banging her buffers into the truck in front of her.

"OW! Now that I think of it, there ARE more downs than ups with these things..."

Her twin sister on the other end of the train was going through a... Different experience.

With Brock pushing her from behind, with all his might, and them accelerating, approaching the speed of sound, she was... In... Kind of... A Personal Heaven?

The train rocketed down the slope, trucks shaking under their weight and the speed, the ground rumbling and rocking as the entire cavalcade thundered past stations.

"STOP!" Emma yelled, waking from her lust-induced trance "WE'RE GOING TO CRASH!"

There ahead of them were the gates of the plant's yard, still closed, and, with no notice send in advance, still firmly closed.

Brock immediately shut off his engine, his driver slamming on brakes, followed by Emma, then Pip, then the rest of the train.

With an ear-splitting screech and a sea of sparks, cinder and burning ash that would of made a dragon - or the United Steelworks - feel envious, their speed began to decrease quite quickly - but not fast enough.

With a mighty crash, Emma burst through the iron gates, making (and getting) enormous dents and shattering the bars into pieces.

Some of the broken gate's pieces fell between the flatbeds and jammed their wheels, causing them to slowly come to a full stop, the train now well within the power station's sidings.

As the last creak of the trucks died down, the yard was left in a sudden, stunned silence - apart from two particular noises...

The sounds of Pip's and Emma's motors, rumbling quietly.

It seemed that their "experiencing" with horizontal gravity acceleration has successfully restarted their engines, even Pip's.

Slowly, the shocked workponies began to approach the train...

And then, they began to cheer!

...For Pip and Emma.

"They think WE delivered their train!" Emma muttered.

"Brock?" Pip asked "Aren't you going to take your credit?"

The diesel smiled.

"Nah..." he replied "Consider it a gift, gals..."

The twins were speechless!

That night, much praise was given to the two Class 43 by their peers. Cloud Chaser and Flitter were also greeted with applause, much to their delight, and the Energy Secretary gave them the Equestrian Charge award for their contributions.

The two HSTs were overhauled on site, and returned to the sheds with new engines, purring smoothly like jaguars.

"That was some wheels-on control you performed there, girls!" Derek greeted them.

"Your teamwork was amazing!" Fluttershy peeped.

"Yes, it is truly astonishing!" Bowler added.

"Pity about Brock, though..." BoZo pondered "The poor guy must be really embarrassed!"

Just then, they heard a deep horn. Looking the side, they saw a freight train pass by. It was pushed by a diesel, a Class 40 by the looks of it. While they couldn't see it in the dark, Pip and Emma could swear that the engine winked at them...

"Yes, a fine piece of work indeed." a posh voice spoke.

The girls looked for it's source, and gasped when they found it.

"Stuck-Up!"

"You're fixed!"

"Yes, indeed I am." he beamed "And I heard Matthias did a great job in my absence. Isn't that right, Rarity?"

"He was fine." the unicorn smiled "But... He simply wasn't YOU, darling!"

"But of course!" the express engine smirked proudly, before he stopped smiling.

"I also heard that Spamcan has had an accident..."

"Yes, a pretty bad one, too..." Rainbow Dash replied "A.J.'s alright, though..."

"Well, let's hope for the best, for both of them." the Class 40 replied grandly.

"Why, you sure are in a generous mood tonight, Sir Al!" Rarity smiled.

"What can I say?" the diesel snickered "I've been... Influenced?"

The others just smirked. Then Fluttershy spoke up.

"Ummm... Where's Diesel?" she asked.

"I can't tell... I haven't seen him today..." Rarity replied.

"Nei'de' di' we..." the Iron Twins added in unison...

"He's been working at Hoofington this afternoon." Bowler explained "Twilight could only work with him for half of the day, so he has been going solo since... He'll get home soon enough..."

Diesel was NOT pleased...

The day quickly accelerated from being slightly bothersome to a World of Eternal Shit: the heatwave, the snooty shunters at Hoofington yards (with it's dysfunctional switches and semaphores), the arrogant manager, and Twilight's absence through the worse part of the day had left him in a bad mood.

And what else should be waiting for him, on his way home, in the dark, on an uncomfortably moist and hot night, than a points failure, JUST outside the "the home stretch".

Cursing under his breath, he waited for the workcolts to either finish up, or send him off to sleep somewhere else.

"Wouldn't be surprised if they would have send me straight to ANOTHER petty job, in some God-forsaken region of this bloody country..." he thought to himself sulkily. The glaring red light of the signal didn't cease to be annoying, and the shunter now at the point where he considered blindly racing into the heat of whatever is ahead of him, and smashing into the signal box which controls the semaphore before him...

...When he heard a rustle.

He looked around, searching for it's source, and his eyes eventually set on the shrubbery growing around the embankment.

The bushes were moving.

Diesel waited.

The bushes kept rustling.

So the Class 08 waited some more.

And the metaphorical limit between the publicly owned land and the railway company's infrastructural territory, composed of woody plants (smaller than normal trees), still continued to practice asymmetric, discordant oscillating motions with random, temporary stops.

And then the locomotive grew bored.

"Just make your damn dramatic entrance, you hobo!"

And out came (tumbled) from the bushes, a blue pony... Swearing loudly.

"GAH! Motherbucking roots!" she shouted, as she hit the bank.

Diesel looked up. The signal was still red. If it wouldn't change soon, he'll have to listen to the background story of the stranger - not his cup of tea, especially in terms of patience.

Finally, the visitor stood up.

She was blue mare with silvery mane and tail - though most of his fur was covered in dirt and she had numerous scratches, with twigs and leaves sticking out of her hair after her last encounter with Mother Nature's Troll.

Her purple eyes darted around, searching for the one who spoke to her...

"Uhm... UP HERE, PERHAPS!" the engine growled.

The mare stopped, eyes widened, as she stared up at the diesel shunter, his face revealed in it's full, gray glory by the moonlight and the lamp of the signal (not to mention his own headlight).

"Did you...?" she muttered, not blinking.

"Yes, yes. I did." he rolled his eyes "What do you want?"

The mare twitched, then shook her head, before glaring up at him.

"Did you call me a hobo?!"

"Yes." he replied simply "Have you looked into a mirror recently? You look like a tree-hugging hippie vagabond!"

"That's it! Trixie will not tolerate such insults...!" she began, but that's as far as he paid attention - something clicked in his mind.

"Trixie..." he thought "Why does that name sound so damn familiar? I didn't even watch this ruddy show!"

He took a second glance at her, as she continued her rant (not noticing that her only audience was clearly ignoring every word she said). The shape of her mane, even in such disarray as it was in, was still unmistakable, with a blue horn jutting out at the top center of her forehead. As she began to ad dramatic motions to enhance the tragic and pivotal part of her story, she slightly turned to the side, revealing her cutie mark: a curved, glittery cape with a blue, five-pointed star-ended magic wand placed across it.

It sort of reminded Diesel of the Hammer'n'Sickle.

Out of the blue (no pun intended), he realized just who exactly the mare was.

"Hey! I know you!" he blurted, making her stop in mid-sentence and look up at the engine with a hopeful grin, still not noticing that he had been ignoring her during the past few minutes.

"You're that showmare, Trixie!" he smirked, quietly watching as a proud smile formed on the mare's muzzle, before continuing "That b*tchy little fraud who brought certain doom upon Ponyville with her lies and idiocracy..."

Diesel's own smirk grew wider as Trixie's slowly melted off, quickly being replaced by a scowl.

"That's not how it happened!" she hissed.

"Really?" the engine grinned, curious about the mare's "perspective" on the incident.

"Yes!" she declared flatly "Trixie had just held a marvelous show in that backwater town, showing the common clay of Equestria the wonders and magnificence of her magic. Then two stupid colts, thinking that... That... Trixie's words and performance wasn't enough to convince the citizens, decided to unleash a rampaging Ursa on the town. Trixie tried to fight the beast, but that ill-disposed purple mare, the one who's friends Trixie had fairly beat in their own game, upstaged Trixie to humiliate her. Well aware that the townsponies may think that it was Trixie's fault that the Ursa had been released in the first place, so she had to escape. THEN, a few fillies from the town decided to write LIES about Trixie in some low-class tabloid, which all the idiotic, gossip-obsessed low-life ponies believed and managed to completely destroy the Great and Powerful Trixie's reputation!"

"Welp, can't argue with that last part!" Diesel grunted "Tabloid-readers are the cancer of society. They are the reason many writers had to result to write CRAP and false info about respectable public figures and celebrities who simply. DON'T. Deserve. That. Much. Attention!"

"Are you implying that Trixie doesn't deserve the attention?!" the mare snapped.

"I'm not implying anything!" Diesel looked away, pseudo-coyly "But surely, there was no other reason behind your unlikely fall, now was there?"

"No, definitely not!" Trixie huffed, crossing her forelegs. Diesel's smiled disappeared.

"Really? What about your little introduction?" he growled.

Trixie's eyes widened.

"You show up at a town, go ON and ON about how great and powerful you are, tell LIES and then humiliate a few ponies by beating them in their own special talent. And in the end, you collect the hard-earned money of the truly working ponies, the essential parts of equine society, you, the exhibitionist, arrogant fraud, who hardly earned it! You don't see anything wrong with this, do you?"

The mare was speechless.

"T-That's not true!" she exclaimed "Trixie's talent is to amaze the crowd with her magical wonder...!"

"To be a successful showmare who pleases the masses - God, that sounded dirty -, by showing them performances based on your magic. That's your talent. NOT humiliating ponies in front of their peers and then cheating away their money! That's called being a fraud!"

"And who are you to judge?" the mare suddenly cried out "You're just a black box on wheels! What do YOU know about magic?"

She tried to get him in a tight situation, but Diesel was not impressed.

"I don't know about magic, as I am a construct from the world of technology." he spoke "But I do know about schemes, as I made quite a few of them in the past - and I can easily tell that your's utter rubbish!" he added, looking down at the mare with disdain.

"You may lie. You may tell fibs. You can have ulterior motives, and you can always trick some pillock into giving you his or her money. But you never, EVER base your world on your own lies!" he proclaimed.

After a dramatic pause, he continued:

"You practically blown yourself a bubble of your own illusions, which now burst, and left you out in the open! And you can only blame yourself for it!"

"LIES!" Trixie roared "It was those stupid colts!"

"YOU told them that you defeated an Ursa Major!" Diesel growled "You saw how dim they were - especially if they blindly did your every whim! And in the end, you couldn't even deal with an Ursa MINOR!"

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" the mare yelled, her horn sparking up with blue, electrical magic, her mane and tail transforming into sharp, rapidly flashing blue-white flames, like that of an electric fire, while her body glowed in a bluish, silvery light, glaring eyes becoming icy blue as well, her mouth twisted into a snarl.

Diesel stood, partially mesmerized, but mostly thinking of where he had seen a similar phenomenon...

The twigs and leaves were vaporized in her mane and tail, as her bruises and cuts healed and the dirt flew off her body.

Eventually, she calmed down, landing on her belly, slightly charred.

As she stood up, Diesel quickly regained his composure, and looked down at her, unimpressed.

"Done with your hissy fit?" he muttered. The mare didn't replied. She just panted, so he continued "Good."

"Y-You... - she began, still wheezing "W-What do *huff* you know?! You're *cough* just a... A... *cough* C-Cube of of crushed s-scrap metal!"

"Cube of crushed scrap metal?" Diesel replied in an ominously low voice. Trixie looked up, regretting her words.

The engine took a deep breath.

"I am an engine, a diesel locomotive, built in England, in the United Kingdom of Great Britain. I have worked through my life, doing things even the strongest of you ponies wouldn't been unable to, and definitely wouldn't be able to bare for long with a sane mind. Through my life, I've been in the service of the public, building the economy of the state I lived and worked in - not for my self, but for the good of the people, without asking for anything more than what a machine needs. I had. To suffer. From the fallibility. Incompetence. And idiocracy of the damned human race. Eventually, me and my comrades led an exodus of disenchanted and mistreated engines and rolling stock into this world, in hopes of finding a better society to work for."

He stopped, gazing at her solemnly.

"We thought we had found it." he added, glaring daggers at the mare "But the likes of you always put out the lights for us."

He raised his voice.

"Selfish, hypocritical, egoistic beings lesser than the public, yet believing they're superior, always given some sort of power or authority to toy with. In our world, these beings are known as politicians and extremists - ministers, presidents, spokesmen obsessed with power, clinging to their position through all cost, megalomaniacs and ruthless sociopaths. Extremists are no better - following some radical, baseless ideology for the fake hopes of identity and recognition, while all they have is greed and a lust for power and destruction, and vendetta against those who think they feel are guilty."

He paused again, staring into her eyes.

You're a new kind on the list." he added, bitterly, still glaring down at the mare "You are, but a simple fraud, hungry for attention and money, all of which you could get through legal and respected ways. Yet, you choose the nasty, easy way achieve such small goals. Living for nothing, just being alive, through a chain of lies and delusion."

He heard her whimpering, but ignored it.

"You're not as bad as them, but you're no better than I was." he announced "And now here you are, unable to decide what to do with the life you ruined yourself.

Trixie sniffed.

"So, what now, showmare?" Diesel muttered, and, as the signal changed to green, rumbled off.

The mare sat in the darkness, sniffing and whimpering, digesting the harsh words of the engine. Finally, as the signal, once again, turned to red, she stood up.

Wiping the tears from her face, she gazed at the world around her with a look of determination.

She trotted off, through the shrubbery, towards the nearest town. She had a lot of things to do, places to visit, and magic to learn.

She had decided.

To be continued...