ENTERPRISING MARE(S)

PART ONE

"Oh, COME ON! Where IS that driver?! I should be getting ready for my morning run!"

The voice saying those very sentences was extremely posh and blustering, though not speaking as carefully as your stereotypical upperclass would - clearly, it's owner was either a working class Tory (*cough*Norman Tebbit*cough*), or something similar: a working class person turned upperclass (like a good few years ago).

And in our case, the latter was true.

For the owner of the haughty voice was the arrogant engine number 40125, his name being Sir Alaric English Electric. Most of his colleagues simply called him Old Stuck-Up, so that they won't have to say his full name, and to avoid the embarrassment when jumbling up the words 'Sir Ara...' 'Sil Ala...' 'Si Rala...' 'Sir Ulrich...' 'SIR ALARIC!!!' (God, that was embarrassing!).

Anyways, Sir Al... Old Stuck-Up was resting in a shed with his "retinue", now consisting of Philippa & Emma, the Class 43/II High Speed Twins. Together (and with some coaches), these two girls made up one InterCity 125 set. They were indeed High-Speed trains, capable of running over 126 miles per hour with ease, even when full. For this, however, they still haven't been granted the privilege of pulling the Express. They didn't mind, though, as they preferred commuter and shuttle work over the snooty and few and far between express runs - they were from a generation of newer diesels that still tried to prove their worth, and be very useful. And also, that was Stuck-Up's job.

He was main express engine of the Other Railway, now the main express engine on their section of Equestrian Rail: the Manehattan-Canterlot route.

This snooty engine was, initially, outraged to find out that he had been transferred from his home world (Britain, Earth) to Equestria, but, after a little while, he figured out that living in a world of ponies and other beings was better than being the slave of his own creators, the many times accursed humans.

And indeed, the equines treated them better, locomotives and rolling stock alike.

However, that didn't changed the arrogant diesel's attitude.

"Now just WHERE IS that stupid mule?!" he now burst out.

"Stuck-Up!" Pip snapped at him "That is NO way of talking about our caretakers!"

"Oh, SHUT it!" the express engine hissed "Who are you? My mother? I have the right to make indignant complaints, you know! Driver should be here by now! So what IS that horse doing?"

"Sleeping." Emma muttered, matter-of-factually "Or working somewhere else."

"WORKING SOMEWHERE ELSE?!" Stuck-Up boomed "He's MY DRIVER! He shouldn't be working somewhere else, he should be working here, preparing me for my morning express!"

"Prepare? We're DIESELS, for cryin' out loud, all we need is short check-up and refill, and we're ready to go!" Pip argued.

"For you COMMONERS, that may be!" the express engine grunted "But for such an important, high-standard locomotive like ME, preparations must be done delicately!"

"More like daintily!" Emma groaned "Anyways, the reason why your driver isn't here because it's your turn to train a newbie!"

"AND!" Pip added "If the rumors going around are true, he or she'll be your official driver if the training is successful!"

"Oh. Right..." the engine groaned, grudgingly. He really wished there would be others to talk to, as conversation with the railway's Token Girls was proven to be increasingly annoying. But there was no chance, the others had already left, and also...

"They're probably searching for us, too." Pip muttered "PERHAPS, it wasn't such a good idea to sleep separately."

Last night, there was a heated argument between passenger and freight engines, which resulted in the two groups going to different sheds - Old Stuck-Up, Bowler, Pip & Emma, and Cromwell slept in the yard's smaller shed with a transfer table, while Diesel, Spamcan, and the Ironwork Bros, Iron 'Arry and Iron Bert slept in the carriage works a few miles up the line. The yard workers and the designated drivers, including Twilight Sparkle, Applejack and Pinkie Pie, had been informed about the quarrel, and came prepared the next morning.

The only engines left in the main shed were BoZo, Derek, the Brakefather, and Steamie.

Next morning, the shed was found nearly empty. NEARLY.

The floor and the rails were littered with machine parts and pieces of thorn metal, motor oil and diesel fuel splattered all over the walls and the support beams, gathering in puddles on the ground, some dripping from splodges on the ceiling, the windows darkened with soot, giving the building an eerie dim atmosphere.

And in the corners were the obliterated bodies of the engines, completely and utterly destroyed, mutilated, with pain and terror frozen on their faces.

And in the middle berth, back, right in front of the buffers, was Steamie, covered in the mechanical gore that left a sour smell lingering around in the shed, his small body illuminated by the only source of light, as lamps were busted: the opening of a vent, with the fan spinning lazily in it, as the tank engine made quick paced moves, back and forth, back and forth, wheeshing red tinted steam, and cackling madly, a maniacal grin frozen on his mouth, under his widely open, blind-looking eyes.

There was a small, repetitive thud coming from his cab.

If one would've looked inside, they would of found the body Pinkamena Diane Pie, suspended in a catatonic state, but still alive, her eyes staring upwards blankly, as she was slowly covered in the crimson vapors pouring out from the firebo--...

Wait.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

THIS isn't the script!

I didn't even wrote this stuff! YEEUCK!

Who the hell...?

. . . . . . .

DIESEL!

YOU CUNT!

Anyways....

The door of the shed suddenly opened.

Spike came in, wearing his blacksmith apron as a work suit, with a tiny orange high-visibility vest above it, his head spikes covered by the brown cap of a fitter. He was followed by to two workcolts, who quickly trotted up to Pip & Emma. Spike, on the other hand, went straight towards the express engine.

"Morning, Stuck-Up!" he greeted him cheerily. The diesel just huffed, and rolled his eyes, replying:

"That's SIR Stuck-Up to you!" he grunted "Anyways... Are you going to be my driver from now on?"

"What? No, of course not!" the dragon replied, oiling his bogies "I'm just your fitter. But I AM taking you to your trainee driver!"

"Oh, good." the engine sighed "Who is it going to be, by the way?"

"Beats me." came the answer "But we're soon to find out."

He climbed into Stuck-Up's cab - so did the two colts into the High Speed Twins' cabs - and, one by one, they rolled onto the transfer table, each set on their own route, with the twins going for the carriage works - back to back - to pick up their coaches for the morning shuttle run, while the snooty Class 40 set out to the station.

Once arriving, he, and his momentary driver found it empty, devoid of life, aside from a few sleepy porters. He stopped beside platform No.1 - there were only four platforms, as Ponyville itself wasn't such an important town, but the marshaling yard, and the fact it was a transfer point between international routes made it turned it's station to an establishment of the highest importance.

The dragon got out, and went around the engine, giving him a more thorough overlook.

As he proceeded, clops could be heard on the platform. Spike was too busy to look, but Stuck-Up was keeping an eye out. Soon, he saw the source of the noise - and was all smiles all of sudden.

Trotting down the platform was a pure white unicorn mare with indigo-violet mane and tail ironed curly, followed by a smaller, younger unicorn filly, her fur a damper white, her mane and tail also curled, but with a more natural shape, colored lavender-thistle. They trotted up directly to the azure Rail Blue engine - tranquil and refined was the older's movement, determined and spunky was the younger's.

As they got closer, Stuck-Up could even make out the mare's cutie mark: three sapphire-colored diamonds. The younger one's flanks were empty. Blank. In her young age, she was yet to discover her special talent.

They stopped, a mere two meters from his front, a two pair of eyes, one blue and one green, set on his yellow front, as he smiled warmly at them, and called out to the young fitter:

"Spike! Come and meet the trainees!"

Following his call, the baby dragon climbed up onto the platform beside him, his face and claws partially covered in grease, blackened by dirt, some even covering his vest.

"Oh, my goodness! Spike!" Rarity exclaimed, and quickly whipped out a handkerchief - hoofkerchief - from her saddlebag, quickly trotting to the dragon, who was still huffing from climbing onto the platform.

"Hey, Spike!" Sweetie Belle greeted him, walking closer to the engine, and looking at him "And good morning to you, Mister, errr... 40125?" she asked, hoping that she remembered the digits right, before she noticed it was painted on his side, and read it up. They weren't even using such long numbers in school!

She registered it with relief, when the big locomotive chuckled, his smile remaining, as he glanced at her through his large monocle.

Meanwhile, Rarity was busy rubbing off whatever she could from the used petroleum derivative stains on her scaly friend. In the same time, Spike was in a sort of love-struck trance, his eyes not focusing with a goofy smile on his face, as he let the ivory mare wipe him, standing awfully close, with that adorable, duck-face pout on his lips, her eyes gleaming as she concentrated hard on getting the splodges off. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, she gave up, and retreated with the hankie, now also covered in the oily substance.

"Oh, it's no good, Spikey!" she muttered "I can't seem to get it out from your scales!"

This snapped him out of his trance.

"Oh! Never mind, Rarity! I'll wash it off later! B'sides, I doubt this'll be the ONLY dirt I'll have to wash off tonight, I AM a fitter, after all..." he added with a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh." the unicorn replied, a bit bemused "Alright." she then smiled "I guess it's only fitting for you to keep the splodges. Hmph. Workmen." she added with pseudo-disparaging tone "Always trying to get dirty!"

Spike only chuckled.

"Ah-Alright. But I think you also have a job to complete. Well, more like a session, but..."

"Ah, yeees!" Rarity exclaimed, and galloped back to the front of the engine, the dragon following her.

"There you are!" Stuck-Up sniffed, now grown a bit bored and offended that Rarity completely ignored him. Sweetie Belle was, at LEAST, polite and respectful enough to properly greet him, even if the little filly didn't know his name. No surprise there, though, it IS a long name, he had to admit, although, he knew longer ones. But, the young pony was still quite shy.

The diesel expected her to start a conversation instantly, but it seemed he misjudged her - he was either shy, or couldn't find the words to start. Again, he wasn't surprised, he doubted the young equine had ever saw a proper, DIESEL locomotive before - he wouldn't been surprised if she was just mesmerized by his looks. Naturally, the equine society was DEFINITELY not the target he hooped for in questions of affectionate admiration, but that, of course, didn't helped the fact that he was, all in all, a dashingly good lookin' fellow - or at least he thought so.

"Done with your love affairs, luv'?" he asked, sarcastically, making both mare and dragon blush heavily, while the filly giggled.

"Y-Yes... Quite..." Rarity muttered, before she shook her head slightly, and smiled "Pleasant good morning, Sir Alaric!"

This made the engine smile his brightest smile yet - for the first time in decades, somebody talked to him properly! This mare just might turn out to be the driver of his dreams!

"...Alaric?" Sweetie Belle asked "You said they called him 'Old Stuck-Up'."

As Spike burst out laughing, and Rarity smiled with embarrassment, the now frowning Stuck-Up just sighed.

"That's just a... SOBRIQUET my colleagues gave me." he explained to the filly.

"Oooooh!" she replied "What's a "sobriquet"? - she asked."

"Sort of like an offensive nickname." Rarity explained "Like when Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon calls you a 'Blankflank'."

"Oh." Sweetie Belle said with a frown, before she looked at the engine with sincere guilt.

"I'm sorry, Mist--, I mean, Sir Ara... Sil Ala... SiR ALaric!" she spoke, with great difficulty. It reminded Stuck-Up of the slurred speech of a certain steam engine, an old, mooching "friend" of them on the Other Railway, converted into an alcohol-powered one for a parody series, then left on the dry with strong alcoholism, and great powers. He often wondered what happened to the bad blooded - or more likely, bad fueled - drunkard of a chum they all loved to hate and hated to love. But, to compare their long-lost socially challenged drinking friend with the innocent little filly before him... The mere grotesqueness of the idea made him laugh.

"You can call me Stuck-Up, lassie." he snickered "But, I haven't been properly introduced. Spike, be a good chap, and...!"

"Right, right..." the dragon interrupted him, rolling his eyes, before clearing his throat, and continuing in a presenting tone:

"Mares and... Mares, I'd like you all... You two to meed Sir Alaric English Electric, chief express passenger locomotive of the Other Railway!" and then, sardonically, he added, waving his hand in a dismissive manner "But we all call him Old Stuck-Up..."

"Why, though?" Rarity asked, then instantly regretted the question.

"'Cause he's one big box of hot air and arrogance!" he replied with a smirk "Though, Doctor Whooves calls him by his number, 40125. It's his habit."

The engine shoot a dagger glare at the small fitter, which actually made the mares take aback - this expression made him look formidable. But he quickly caught himself, and reassumed his smile, a soft frown still present, his pronounced, bristly eyebrows lowered under his furrowed yellow forehead, as he spoke gently:

"With nobility comes pride, and SOMETIMES..." he went on, now jokingly quieter, pseudo-whispering to the little filly "...Even I get too big for my wheels."

"No kiddin' right there!" Spike muttered, but another glare from the engine made him shut up.

"Right." Rarity spoke, still bemused "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Lets." the engine replied calmly. There was a 'click' sound, and his cab door opened.

Obediently, Rarity and Sweetie Belle climbed in, and as the door closed, Stuck-Up couldn't help but notice that Spike was staring at him with envy. This gave him mixed feelings. For one, he enjoyed taking the piss on the dragon for mocking him, but on second, the poor lad was clearly "suffering" from FYLS - First, Young Love Syndrome -, a totally common illness which's outcome was totally dependent on the subject of adoration. Spike would certainly be lucky if Rarity would return his feelings, even if it wouldn't last long - that's one way of overcoming the illness, by gaining experience from it -, and if it would turn out to be One-Case? Their love everlasting? A happy end, definitely, too sappy and sugar-coated for the express engine's taste. The other extremity?

He breathed in deeply, mentally wincing on the thought.

Herzeleid.

Sure, Spike was stronger than to do something stupid, for example, end his damned life out of a heartbreak, but he was sure he wasn't smart enough to NOT do anything ELSE stupid. Like run away to prove himself as a dragon-slaying dragon knight, or something.

He had to force himself keep the snort in, as he laughed inwardly on the mental image of Spike in an a horned hat and viking-roman-esque armor, shouting "FUS DO RAH!" at a group of larger, more vicious looking members of his kind.

He then noticed that Spike was still staring at him, now with a challenging look. The diesel brushed it off:

"What are you still doing here?! You got a job to do! Bugger off!" he shout-whispered, finally making him snap out of his gaze, nod, and run off, back into the yard.

With a content smile, Stuck-Up decided it was time to check on his protege.

Stepping inside, the two ponies gasped.

"Now THIS... Is what I call a working environment!" Rarity cried with jubilation. The engine's cab was roomy, clean, and up-to-date - as far as he could tell, having never seen a diesel from the inside before - she was too intoxicated the last time she was in the engine's cab. The control panel was sparkling clean, every knob, dial, button, lever and crank neatly and clearly labeled, the many meters clean and easy to read, the windshields scratch-, and washing-stripeless. The entire cab was well lit, with a door leading to the engine room, the floor covered with neat, gray plastic, filled with tiny glimmering particles - probably Mica. The seat was grand, a wheelless swivel chair, covered in magnificent, chocolate brown (fake) fur cover with similarly coated armrests. With a squee, Rarity jumped into the chair, leaning back in a manner akin to a good friend of her's, Lyra Heartstrings' ways of sitting. She gingerly rubbed her back into the fur case, moaning quietly, resisting the most strangest, and strongest urge to purr.

"MMmmmmmmmh!" she exhaled, finally relaxing. A slight, gentle, sobering frown crept onto her face. The chair was deliciously cushy, yet... Uncomfortable enough to keep her awake.

- "Right." - she thought, and leaned forward, only to find her sister, already beside her, also enjoying the seat. No pony was exactly sure just HOW big humans were - not even Lyra! -, but judging by the size of the seat, if this was JUST perfectly sized for a human to even rest his head against it - then they were considerably larger than the average pony, probably larger than Princess Celestia herself.

- "Probably as large as Alexei." - Rarity pondered, smiling wryly at the memory of the odd... God that introduced the engines to them. HE described himself as "merely" humanoid - did humans had more details then?

Wouldn't be much of a surprise.

One thing she easily figured out about the foreign deity was that he was a simple soul, not one to show off, not even with his looks - meaning his body physique was probably magically simplified. Forget probably - she could of easily drawn him down, or at least his silhouette, JUST by using various geometrical shapes - not even difficult ones, just triangles, tetragons and ONE circle!

What veered his thoughts off from the simplicity of a god was her sister, speaking to her.

"It sure is comfy." she chimed "When do we start?"

"All in good time!" a familiar voice said, making both of them jump.

"Stuck-Up?" Rarity muttered "Is that you?"

"Why so surprised?" the voice, definitely that of the engine's, replied "You two ARE IN my cab, practically, my HEAD."

"Does that mean we're hearing your thoughts?" the filly asked.

"Oh, no." came the mirthful reply "I AM speaking, although engines DO have the ability to telecommunicate, using the ether itself as chatbox, their thoughts being the messages."

"...What?" the mare muttered.

"Can you teach me how to do it?" the filly asked.

"Maybe later." the diesel replied "Right now, I'll have to teach your sister."

A lot of explaining and discussion later, Stuck-Up spoke up.

"Alright, with all that being said, let's get onto the physical part, shall we?

"Indeed." Rarity replied "You've been taking notes sedulously, RIGHT, Sweetie Belle?" she asked sharply.

"Notes?" the diesel muttered "I understand this is a lot to remember, but having your little sister to write down EVERYTHING..." he gave a disappointed sigh "I DID NOT expect this from you, Rarity Belle."

"What?! No! I... Wait. How do you know my full name?" she asked. The engine huffed.

"You called her Sweetie "Belle". It's kind of obvious it's your surname."

"So your surname is English Electric?" Sweetie asked.

"Yes. The company that built my kind is called "English Electric". They produce a lot of things, and one of them was British Rail's Class 40 locomotives."

"British Rail? Class 40?" the sisters asked.

"British Rail was the nationalized railway system and company of my motherland, Great Britain. And, the many locomotives, steam, diesel and electric, were separated by their kind and built, in groups called classes. I'm a Class 40 diesel-electric locomotive. And before you ask, that means that the diesel internal combustion motor located behind you, in the engine room, does not directly powers my wheels, but rather a generator, which then powers the traction motors located on my bogies. As Dr. Whooves for detailed blueprints. It's not likely that copyright infringement would hurt anybody here, or that anyone would have the materials to produce, especially MASS produce diesels like me."

"Why not?" Rarity asked. Sweetie was too busy writing.

"Well, for once, I asked Alexei the other day he checked up on us, and it turns out that literally ALL of Equestria's soil is devoid of any petroleum, which is the very basis of our fuel, diesel oil. And second, while your world is advanced in such subjects as magic, biology, alchemy, and such, even the most advanced nation, the griffons, are a good 90 years behind us in terms of technology, industry, and energy. The distance - sky and ground, my dear, sky and ground. But I guess it's better that way. At least this world doesn't has to suffer from the terrors that technology did in our world.

"I'm afraid to ask..." Rarity uttered, her throat suddenly dry "But... What sort of terrors?"

Stuck-Up was quiet.

"I'd rather not say. For Sweetie's sake."

"Awww..." the filly muttered "This is one of those "big mare" stuffs, right..."

"You can put it that way, Sweetie Belle." the engine replied murkily "Though not the taboo topic you usually bump into."

"Huh?"

"Let me just ask this: you know what death is, right?"

"Why... Of course..." the filly muttered, now uncertain "The end of life."

"Good. And you know what's the name of the act, when somebody, or rather, somepony, takes somepony else's life?"

"Marriage?"

The mare and the diesel snorted with laughter.

"No, at least not in the sense I meant. But close. It also starts with the letter 'm'." Stuck-Up replied after some time.

"...Murder?" Sweetie whispered, now visibly afraid. Rarity gently hugged her, as the engine went on, with dark solemnity.

"Indeed. It is called murder. Now, my creators, the humans, were grand enough to create useful things that helped both them, and each other. But in many cases, they rather create things that, at least in one way, is able to end someone's life. In fact, many times, TOO many times, their technology advanced because they wanted to end each other's lives in great numbers, for their own gain."

"They advanced... Trough war?" Rarity whispered, also terrified. The last stone was about to fall.

"Genocide." came the somber reply "They advanced their technology to wipe out each other, more and more efficiently. And even now, after reaching what we could call perfection, they keep on making more and more lethal discoveries, every and each supporting no one's side, being no one's gain, but being the tool of torture, murder and destruction... Yet... They built us..."

The ponies were clinging to each other, shivering. Not because of cold, though, but because of the icy terror running marathon on their spines, with the heavy weight of grief in their hearts.

"Why does Sweetie has to take notes, anyhoo?" the diesel asked on a lighter tone.

"Oh, uhhh..." the mare was surprised by the change of topic "Well, let's say, SOMEPONY has forgotten to write their report, and choose to mention this the VERY LAST NIGHT before they had to hoof it in.

"Wasn't my fault!" her sister proclaimed "I had nothing to write about! I did one about you last year! Couldn't do the same thing twice!"

"So I took her out from school for a day, to ensure she'll be presenting a top-notch report tomorrow, after spending a day with her sister, who also happens to be learning... How to drive an engine, now it seems..."

"An EXPRESS engine, my dear." Stuck-Up added "Now, where IS that Diesel? He's supposed to be here by now, with my coaches!"

"OH MY GOODNESS!" Rarity shrieked "I just remembered!"

"What?!" the engine asked in alarm.

"The Doctor had told me that we should fetch our own coaches, as I'll have to learn how to control a big engine like you! And I was supposed to TELL YOU THAT!"

In one moment, a bitter and foul swear was climbing it's way up in Stuck-Up's physically questionable throat - then, he pondered.

"What day is it today?" he asked.

"Monday."

The diesel smiled broadly.

"Then don't worry! I only have a mid-day, and a midnight run today. Pip and Emma take care of the morning and afternoon commuter runs."

"Who?" the two mares asked.

Suddenly, there was the blast of a two-tone horn, and, with a rumble and a modest roar, something long, blue, and incredibly fast passed by them, it's yellow end winking them goodbye!

As the two mares stared with astonishment, Stuck-Up only chuckled.

"Show-offs..." he snickered...

"WHAT was that?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"Correctly, WHO was that?" Rarity added, remembering the cheeky wink.

"Why..." the express engine beamed "That was Pip & Emma, the InterCity 125!"

"And this is how you connect the break pipes..."

"Sooo... First I fix the coupling?"

"Yes."

"Then I connect the pipes."

"Yeah."

"And then? Is it done?"

"Oh! I almost forgot! The coaches also have to be electrically connected to the engine!"

"Why?"

"There's lots of stuff in them that uses electricity... You know, like the lights, the air conditioning, the heating... Comfort stuff like that..."

"Oooh!"

"So, you'll have to connect the wires to the right socket, otherwise, the whole thing will sort-circuit."

"Whatever does that mean?"

"Dunno. But the last time I made one, the sockets exploded, and the wires caught on fire!"

"Oh dear!"

"It was easy to repair, well, the wires at least. Should of repaired the sockets, though..."

"Why? Did something went wrong?"

"Well, the workcolts never really looked at it, and the next time I tried to connect the wires, the whole electrical system of the coaches burned out! Every light bulb exploded, the A.C. went haywire and threw sparks everywhere from it's vents, and the heater bellowed smoke... It was only a miracle that the coaches didn't burned down right then and there..."

"Wow... That's unfortunate..."

"You could say that..."

"WAIT!" the engine gasped "You said my normal coaches were only getting overlooked!"

"Uuuuuh..." the dragon muttered, unsure of what to say...

"I think..." Sweetie Belle interrupted "He meant to say... "Overhauled"... If I got that term right."

"Ah yeah! Yeah, that's it!" Spike exclaimed, before whispering to the filly "Thanks for saving my tail there!"

"You're welcome!" Sweetie whispered back, smiling 'Everything for my sister's colt-, I mean, boyfriend!"

That made the little fitter blush.

Stuck-Up was fuming.

"I. CAN'T. Believe this!" he declared, indignantly "My own coaches scorched by the negligence of some lazy workmen! Why, that never happened on our OLD railway!" he blustered "And TRUST me, that place was Fate's Rendezvous spot!"

"Oh, I'm sure it was only an accident, darling!" Rarity soothed him as best as she could. She was apparently cleaning his engine - the only thing she was allowed to change on him, as both the diesel, the workponies, AND Spike, had clearly stated, explained, and ordered her to leave the express engine's design, coloring and decor as it is. Reluctantly, she agreed. Although the coloring was nice, she had to admit, it still felt very dull, empty for her taste. But, orders are orders.

As explanation, they mentioned regulations, identification, and class, most of which she ignored, as the majority of it was more jumbled and foreign-sounding than the times Twilight got a "mental diarrhea" (as Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash often named their studious friend's rapid explaining sprees).

Rest assured, she left the diesel as he was, but not without cleaning out his engine - which was mandatory, and part of her session, anyway. Initially, she was disgusted by the idea of removing oil sludge from hot metal parts, only to apply a fresh layer of grease, but soon enough, she was convinced to do so (majorly by her little sister, who decided to do the dirty work herself, WITHOUT using her horn!) - better safe than sorry!

The engine, on the other hand, was still cross...

"Those miserable, oafish putzes..." he growled "Screwing up MY coaches. MY express!"

"Hey, don't blame me! I changed the wire!" Spike retorted "Blame to other workponies for not checking the outlets! AND Cromwell, HE messed up the electric system!"

"PAH!" the diesel harrumphed, and went silent with disdain.

Not only did he had to shunt his own coaches, a source of irritation, irritation he so far managed to hide, not ONLY did he had to put up with the fumbling of the baby dragon, whom he had been "protecting" from his own impatience, but he also had to deal with the... SUBSTITUTE Coaches...

"I honestly can't understand you..." Rarity muttered, shaking her head "I haven't the slightest idea, what's wrong with these coaches."

"That's EXACTLY the point! YOU don't know, but I DO!" Stuck-Up grunted.

At long last, the coaches were coupled up. Rarity finished with the engine, and went back into the cab. Her sister showed up as well - much to her dismay, as somehow, while Rarity was the one who cleaned the engine blocks, she herself remaining clean, Sweetie, who was observing Spike as he fixed the coupling between the diesel and the train, managed to get herself covered in dirt from hoof to head, outside, far from the dirty interior of the engine. Her sister caught her just as she was climbing in.

"SWEETIE BELLE!" she gasped, more out of worry than anger "What happened?!"

"I'm sorry..." she replied sheepishly "I was saying goodbye to Spike, and I sorta... Wasn't watching where I was going, and... I fell into a puddle..." she grimaced, sticking her tongue out "An OILY puddle!"

Without a word, grasping her sister with her magic, Rarity jumped out of the cab, and rushed towards a nearby outside tap, with Sweetie Belle towed in the air behind her.

"What are you doing?" her sister and the engine asked in unison.

"I'm washing that smirch off you!" the mare declared "Who knows WHAT was in that puddle? Don't worry, Sir Alaric, this'll only take a minute!" she called out to the diesel.

"I don't mind, she's better clean than scabby, but we still have to go to Manehattan, EVENTUALLY..." he called back, with sarcasm in his voice.

Rarity skidded to a halt.

Sweetie, provided with no friction but the hold of the magic aura around her, flung forward above her sister's head, before slowly being pulled back, as the magic holding her needed to get closer to it's source - her sister's horn...

"What?" the white mare asked.

"Haven't you been informed?" Stuck-Up asked back, equally surprised "My route runs from Canterlot to Manehattat, back and forth, stopping here, at Trottingham, and a few other places on the way. I start from either Canterlot or Manehattan, and END my journey in either of them, making a full circle in each run. Usually, I have three runs a day, sometimes five, and on Mondays, only two, one at noon, and the other in the evening or around midnight."

He paused for a moment.

"Don't worry, your session only requires you to do ONE turn, though, a COMPLETE one. We'll start from Manehattan, then go to the Capital, and finally, back to Manehattan. You can take another train back to Ponyville from there."

The ponies remained quiet for the longest time...

The express engine just waited.

The pause in the conversation, and in sound entirely, stretched longer and longer...

But JUST when the silence was turning from awkward to worrying...

"I'm going to see... Manehattan... AND Canterlot... In one day?" Rarity asked, her voice meek...

"Well... Don't get yourself flattered!" Stuck-Up replied "We're on business, so you won't have time to go sightseeing! I need you to remain, AT LEAST, in the station. Deserting your engine on duty comes with heavy penalties, you know. Pay cuts, un-preferred work-swap, mandatory overtime work... Besides, you shouldn't make the passengers wait - it'll spoil my... I mean, the Express' image. I haven't been late, not one time, since I arrived to your world, and I intend to keep it that way!"

Rarity didn't seemed to listen. She stared into the air, absentminded. Sweetie Belle, on the other hand, was more down to earth.

"We're going to Manehattan?" she asked with great enthusiasm. The diesel rolled his eyes, his prominent eyebrows waving slightly. The movement also readjusted his monocle.

"Yes." he groaned. At least, ONE of the ponies was still aware they had a job to do.

"YES!" the scream that echoed through the yard woke him from his sulking, as he thought it had an orgasmic tone, and for Sweetie Belle's sake, he quickly glanced around, only to see that Rarity had already scrubbed her little sister clean, and both mare and filly were ready for the journey, sporting wide grins.

The diesel just chuckled.

They made excellent time with the empty coaches, and, passing through Trottingham junction, the express engine noticed something: familiar faces in the small shunting yard close the isolated junction.

He wasn't the only one, though.

"98462 and 84576." he murmured, glancing at the sky blue L.N.E.R. B12 and B17.

"Do you know them?" Rarity asked.

"Sort of. We usually have a fallout with these two every now and then." her replied.

"Are they bad?" Sweetie asked with concern in his voice, as he watched the two tender engines move about in the yard.

"Oh no." Stuck-Up chuckled "We're just... "Frienemeies", so to speak. We have competitions with them sometimes, most of which doesn't ends up pretty friendly, though." his voice drifted off, as he got buried deep in his thoughts, before realizing he isn't alone. "There's no real harm in them. They're venerable steamers, in fact, one of my first friends were from this type of locomotives."

"Oh." Sweetie replied, writing into her notebook "And what about that other engine, waiting at a signal, and the diesels in the shed."

"Other engine? Diesels?" Stuck-Up asked, glancing back at the yard. Indeed, the shed was filled with diesels, the ones he knew very well: Brush, a kind Rail Blue and yellow Class 47, Burdock, a Class 33 in Rail Freight livery. Besides them was Rhodders, a green, cream and yellow colored, spiteful Class 31, Matthias, an elderly, maroon Class 52 with cream windscreen frames, Brock, a scurrilous, olive green Class 40, and Vac, an infantile, yet, clever and experienced Class 31 with Rail Blue and yellow livery and over-window headcode panel, now empty, and serving as a lamp. Outside the shed, two Class 08s parked on the sidings, one in a simple "Shunter Black" livery, with noticeable, arched ladders on the two sides of his front, similar to Diesel, but not as boxy as him, with red traction rods, and uncolored buffers. His face was quite similar to Diesel's, but he looked a bit younger, and more happier than the surly shunter back in the marshaling yard. The other Class 08 beside him was painted rail blue with yellow traction rods and buffer plates, carrying the BR symbol on his cab. But what was much more interesting about this particular engine is that he had his face on the back of his cab, hazard-striped, like the rest of the cab's rear, while instead of the two oblong windows on the sides of the rear, he had a line of five, narrower, but better vision-providing set of windows, packet together tightly.

"Who are they?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"The engines in the shed are number 47666, Brush, number 33102, Burdock, number D701, Rhodders, number D1074, "Western Pathfinder", or Matthias, number D782, Brock, and number 31120, Vac. The shunters are called Mute and Cross. Cross is the one who has his face on his ars... I mean, cab, and Mute is the black one. He's that strong, silent type."

Stuck-Up chuckling at the last part.

"They're all comrades who we can relate and rely on - as much as you can rely on ANYONE on the Other Railway."

The ponies chuckled as well, when Rarity suddenly asked.

"But tell me, darling, WHY are you lot specifically called "The OTHER Railway"?"

"You'll see in time." the diesel replied haughtily "Now, where's that other steam engine?"

He got his answer, as his vision of the yard was blocked by a mixed goods train, made out of older trucks, vans, and two tankers, an aging brake van at the back. And leading the train was...

"No..." Stuck-Up muttered, eyes wide, before his mouth curled into a cheerful grin "Oh, dear Lord, no! I can't believe it!"

"What's wrong, Stuck-Up?" the filly asked "Is he an enemy?"

"Oh, Heavens, no!" the diesel replied "He's a friend! A great friend, in fact!"

Leading the train was bright crimson tender engine, with crimson wheels on both engine and tender, a crimson done, black lining, and a red roof - his smoke box and funnel naturally being black. It was hard to decide what type, what class he was: he looked like a mixture of a Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway Class 27 and a Glasgow and South Western Railway 403 Class "Austrian Goods", with a Fowler tender. He had no name or number painted on, heck, not even a company symbol or monogram. Stuck-Up was so surprised to see this locomotive that he didn't even noticed his signal was red - hadn't been for Rarity, he would've rolled pass it.

"Eagle!" he cried out, stopping beside the engine. 'Eagle' looked up, and smiled.

"Alaric!" he cheered, blowing his three-chime whistle (successfully startling his crew, who weren't used to such antics from machines).

"Do you know him?" Sweetie Belle asked, poking her head out of the cab.

"Of course!" the diesel replied happily, before clearing his throat "Rarity, Sweetie! I'd like you to meet Eagle! He was one of the first steam engines I met when I started working! In fact, I believe, we all know him!"

"We? You mean, the Other Railway?" Rarity asked, mesmerized.

"Indeed. Eagle, this is Rarity Belle and Sweetie Belle. Rarity is my protege for the day, and she brought her sister with her to study rail work."

"Pleasant to meet you!" Eagle replied back in a noticeable Yorkshire accent, a mixture between York, Sheffield and Leeds accents. He came off as general English, though, general Northern English, that is.

After introducing his own driver and fireman, a stallion and a colt, father and son from Trottingham (former farmers put out of business by drought and a parasprite invasion), the two engines got into a lively chat. It turned out that Stuck-Up was not all that clarity, lustrum and pomp he gave himself out. He, like any engine, was once a novice diesel, who happened to be based in Yorkshire, all those years ago, in his early years, while still under the pre-TOPS number, D400. His mentor and earliest friend, beside fellow Class 40s, was Eagle, then painted black with red stripes.

Together, they shared many good memories. Unfortunately, as the number of diesels and electrics increased on the rails, the distance between steam and diesel locomotives grew bigger, arrogance and mere rudeness turning into loath and disdain, both sides being under pressure. Steam engines feared withdrawal, while diesels feared three things at once: being out-dated by newer designs, being put aside for the favor of electrics, and being cast away by preserving societies in favor of steam engines, if either of their first worries came true.

The tension slowly grew to a sort of racial segregation, apartheid, that even grew on the railway workers and enthusiasts.

In some regions, diesel engines were assaulted by steam-supporters. In others, preserved steam engines were vandalized, and withdrawn engines were scrapped sooner for no apparent reason. It took time for the electrics to catch on, but when they did, both steamers and diesels became losers - and woe for the defeated! Each side's worst nightmares came true, as, much like an enormous snow plough, electrification swept them aside, into the filth.

In these dark times, the two engines tried to remain friends, but the tension even got to them. So, on a gloomy day, they departed, each going in separate directions.

"After that, I was bought by a preservation society, as predicted." Eagle murmured "I was originally sent to stay at York, but I got stalled, and in the end, they didn't even wanted me. My fate was to be decided in a few days before I came to this new, pony world. I decided to take matter into my own buffers."

"Good to hear and see." Stuck-Up smiled.

"But what about you? You didn't had your title back then, just your number, and your chosen name." the crimson engine asked. The diesel sighed. Clearly, these were painful memories he was reciting.

"After we've parted, I was based in London, where I got my new number, 40125. I worked there, and around the Thames in particular, before British Rail was privatized." he frowned at the last world, before carrying on "I was bought by the G.N.E.R., where I worked with other members of my class and some Class 37s as freight and auxiliary passenger engines, until..." his voice dropped, his face turning into a deep frown of rancor.

"I think..." he muttered darkly "You may have heard..." his face seemed to grow darker, especially around the eyes.

"I did." Eagle replied, sounding bereft and deferential.

There was a long pause.

Then, Eagle's signal turned green. The engine smiled once again.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, SIRE Alaric." he snickered "I'm looking forward to see you more, and that's very likely, as I and the lads in the yard are an auxiliary set to your marshaling yard, and a back-up for the section. We'll deal with the cross-region and beyond region stuff here." he explained, as he started off. But just before he left, he whistled back "Cheer up, lad! That was all a long time ago! 'Time to look forward', you always said!"

And with a blow of his whistle, he left, the goods train rattling behind him.

Stuck-Up smiled, and soon, his signal turned green as well...

As they trundled down the line, Rarity couldn't help but to ask the diesel:

"So, you once worked as a goods engine?"

The Class 40 chuckled.

"Yes, a lot of times in fact. We all started with goods, then moved onto passengers. I just sticked with the latter."

"But tell me, Sir Alaric..." the mare spoke softly "What has happened to you on the..." she thought back "G.N.E.R.?"

The engine's smile disappeared.

"Can we talk about this another time?" he asked on a solemn, but firmly voice.

He took the ponies' silence as agreement.

They soon arrived to Manehattan, and, as Stuck-Up predicted, there was barely time for the mares to even visit a toilet.

But they were soon off again, the coaches now full... So far, nothing wrong...

But as they rolled out of the station and onto the open line, they heard the clattering of the coaches become more audible.

Tricketty-trock Trickety-trock Trickety-trock!

It was a steady, fast rhythm, simple enough for a foal to remember it. Quite monotonous, too...

"Oh good..." the express engine groaned, as more and more passengers looked out through the windows, wondering about the noise.

"Here we go again..."

Trickety-trock Trickety-trock

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-Trickety Trock!

"Oooh God..." the diesel groaned, as the passengers began to hear a catchy hip-hop instrumental, matching the rhythm of the coaches' chattering, pour out from the speakers, as the coaches went on.

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety Trock-trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety Trock-trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock!

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety-trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety Trock-trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety Trock-trock, Trickety Trock, Trickety Trock!

Trickety-trickety-trickety-trickety Trock, Trickety Trock Trock!

"See what I meant?" the diesel asked crabbily. The two ponies only stared.

"I see..." Rarity muttered, and cast a glance at her sister. Sweetie Belle was busy bobbing her head gently to the rhythm, smiling happily with her eyes closed.

Rarity chortled.

"They sure seem to have a sense of rhythm." and she joined her sister, but leaving her eyes open.

Again, Stuck-Up just groaned.

They still made an excellent journey, with the passengers having a wonderful time in the rapping coaches. Even the express engine himself enjoyed the journey, including the steady climb to Canterlot up the mountain, across the viaduct between the two mountain sides, slipping into the large passenger station located in a lower level of the city.

No sooner Stuck-Up had passed the city gates, the coaches went solemnly silent. They stopped smoothly next to platform, and passengers soon bustled out from the coaches.

They had to wait for an control car, a Driving Van Trailer, so that Rarity could drive the train from the other end, as there wasn't any place for Stuck-Up to go around the train.

The mare stood outside the engine, gazing around the modern station, while Sweetie Belle was dozing in the cab - they had woke up earlier than usual that morning.

Her sister was still enjoying herself, despite not being allowed outside the station. But as she watched passengers, porters and workponies trot and rush by, she noticed something that made her freeze and her blood boil in the same time.

Her expression was telling, as Stuck-Up noticed her fury, and glanced into the direction she was looking.

A dashing, handsome looking white stallion with a blonde mane and tail, and a compass-star-resembling mark on the top his hind leg, entered the station, the ponies respectfully stepping aside from him, but not bothering to pay much attention to him. This seemed to irritate him, as he had a sense of excellence lingering around him.

At a speed that would've made Rainbow Dash proud, Rarity zoomed back into Stuck-Up's cab, slamming the door shut, waking her sister, and quickly ordering her to be quiet, as she peered through the cab window, hoping that the light reflected from it would provide her cover.

The diesel stared, as the stallion, after trotting around a bit, came up to him with a proud smile on his face.

"'Scuse me!" he called out to him with a haughty voice "Can you tell me where the express going to Manehattan is?"

"You're staring right at it." Stuck-Up replied, sounding none-the-less haughtier himself. The seemed to have caught the stallion off guard, but he resumed his content gaze at the engine, now eyeing him up.

"Oh. So YOU'RE pulling, er, PUSHING the express." he spoke "Well, you certainly ARE a peculiar one."

The engine raised an eyebrow.

"Am I?" he asked on an extravagant tone.

"Well..." the pony went on "I've never seen any machinery like you. And trust me, I've seen enough."

"Have you?" the diesel asked, now curious.

"Yes. Yes indeed." the stallion replied, his voice changing from haughty to sincere and gentle "I am the Royal Industry Inspector." he explained "And I was informed that many, MANY new kind of locomotives have arrived. So, naturally, I set off to do what is my duty."

His voice turned back to normal (arrogant) again.

"Anyways, I may have... Sort of... Expected a... Uh..."

"Steam engine?" the express engine asked, a bit listlessly.

"Yes, that! To pull the train..." the stallion quickly explained.

"Some inspector..." Stuck-Up thought, but introduced himself politely, anyway "Well, pleasant to meet you then, sir. I am number 40125, Sir Alaric English Electric, express engine of the... Former... Barrow Regional Transit, pro-passenger engine of British Rail before that."

"Oh, so you're the one!" the stallion grinned "The... Princess, and Mr. Alexei had mentioned you specifically..."

"Oh, did they?" the engine asked cheerily.

"...Being the most haughtiest, most arrogant and pompous engine in the entire region, if not the whole railway itself. With a venerable knowledge of rules and regulations, and a most versatile experience, of course."

Stuck-Up froze, his face keeping the same expression he had, but now with a constrained tone.

"R-Really?" he asked meekly, before something hit him "WAIT! I understand why you had consulted with Alexei..." he said, the manner he talked about the deity and controller of the railway surprising the stallion more than anything "...But just WHY, pray tell, have you needed to consult with the Princess?"

"Well..." the stallion replied with an indifferent tone "As I AM the Royal Industry Inspector, she had to consult with me even BEFORE I talked to your controller." he explained "She wants me to fully put my nose into my work, less I want my OWN royalty to be taken from me... Again..." he added with a sour, tired voice.

"Royalty? You?" Stuck-Up asked "...Again?"

"Well, I AM the Princess' nephew." the haughty pony explained, sheer arrogance seeping out from him.

The engine, on the other hand, seemed far from being impressed, even the slightest bit. In his stupor of haughtiness, the stallion didn't realized this, even when he asked him again, with a suspicious and edgy voice:

"What IS your name, anyway?"

The stallion chuckled.

"Ohoho. You must be new around here." he smirked "I am, of course, Prince Blueblood."

"Oh, so YOU'RE the one...!!!" the engine snapped, making everyone (including the Prince) stop dead in their tracks, gazing at the pair.

Inside the cab, the two sisters squirmed.

"YOU'RE that pompous bastard who screwed up Rarity's night at that Gala!" the diesel growled furiously "And you come, gallivanting into my sight, like you OWN the bloody world! The NERVE!!!" he snorted "SOME Prince you are, anyway, not having the slightest knowledge about how to treat a lady! Not only that, but you had yourself removed from your royal title FOURTEEN times so far! A Real Royal PAIN IN THE ARSE you are, mate, and nothing more!"

It was only then that Prince Blueblood had recovered from the engine's outburst.

"HOW DARE YOU...!" he yelled "How DARE you berate ME, when YOU, who supposed to be an EXPRESS engine, haven't been on time for TWENTY YEARS FLAT before coming to Equestria! I'd ought to be VERY quiet if I were you! I'll have to write my report to my aunt about your performance, if you DIDN'T guess!"

Stuck-Up was also taken aback, but quickly recovered.

"RRRRGH!" he growled fiercely, engine revving up "Listen up, you stupid, mediocre, pathetic little waste of glue material!"

Many gasped at the grotesque obscenity of the diesel, and the guts he had to say such thing to the haughty Prince.

"AS IF you weren't enough SPINELESS and COWARDLY already, you try to use THAT against me? Well, here's something to freshen your info! I'VE already MET with the Princesses, and I gained their respect soon enough! And from what I learned when meeting with them in person, they're not like the RIDICULOUS royalty stereotype like YOU are! And I HIGHLY doubt that Princess Celestia would sink down to such lowliness as NEPOTISM - 'CAUSE THAT'S EXACTLY YOUR LEVEL, YOU MORONIC, ABSURD RUNT!"

Prince Blueblood looked visibly shaken by these harsh words, having fallen on his flank, and staring towards the engine with fear plastered on his face.

Well, that was what Old Stuck-Up thought, until he saw a shadow cast beside him, on the platform.

Slowly, he glanced towards it's source.

Inside the cab, Rarity's jaw dropped!

There, standing beside them (for quite a while by now), was Princess Luna, looking quite astonished.

Neither engine or stallion said a word.

Rarity and Sweetie Belle sunk beneath the level of the windows, and hugging each other tightly, trying to pull themselves together, attempting to take as little space up as possible.

There was a long, awkward pause...

Then, the Princess spoke up, breaking the silence:

"...Wow..." was all she said.

TO BE CONCLUDED