A Loco Motion Picture

by Locomotion

Chapter 5: The Chase Is On

It took until the following evening to rerail the engines and clear away the remains of the fallen crane, but Tarquin simply took it in his stride and reworked the script to accommodate the recovery operation where possible. True to his word, he wouldn't let any work continue, filming or otherwise, until he and the wrecking crew had checked that everything was okay, and even recruited the local police to investigate into the mishap. But while the police understood the gravity of the situation, they couldn't find any evidence to suggest that Take-Two was behind this, so the best they could do after that was guard the set against any further sabotage should anypony try the same stunt again.

As evening drew in, the two engines were back on the rails and the track was finally repaired. The 602 hadn't sustained any real damage following the previous day's mishap, but the helper engine was badly twisted round the front, and would need a heck of a lot of repair before it was fit to run again, and in any event, neither engine was in steam by the time the wrecking crew were finished. Another Mustang Class, No. 794, was sent up from Delamare to tow them away to the locomotive works at Hoofington, while “City of Cloudsdale” came down from Ponyville to bring us home.

The next two weeks were pretty trying for me and the others. Filming was suspended during that time, pending an inquiry into the accident with the crane, so we were forced to carry on with our lives as if no film work had been undertaken in the first place. Sweetie-Belle, of course, was still shaken from what she had thought could have been her final moments, so I never saw her again until about five days later.

Diamond Tiara, meanwhile, was most unsympathetic. Whenever she happened to be nearby, all she would talk about was how incompetent Tarquin was (supposedly), and how foolish I was to think I had a chance to make myself known under him. It was an absolute Tartarus, I tell you that much!

Thankfully, after the tenth day of our hiatus, things started to look up for all of us. Not only had Tarquin managed to win compensation for the accident following the inquiry, but the police had agreed to supply a few full-time guards for free, and an article had been published in the local media warning everypony around the chosen filming locations to keep an eye open for saboteurs, with a 15,000-bit reward for anypony with information on them. With our film potentially safeguarded against any further sabotage, we could finally begin shooting again – though not without one final fiasco...

---

By the end of our two-week hiatus, Sweetie-Belle and the others had pretty much recovered from the ordeal with the crane, so Tarquin arranged for us to gather at Ponyville MPD on the upcoming Tuesday to prepare for the next part of the film, which would include my uncle's engine as he had promised earlier. But to his utter consternation, when we arrived, Lavender Rhapsody was nowhere to be seen.

“I can't understand it,” he kept muttering to himself. “Lavender promised me she'd be here at the sheds at 10am sharp – where the devil could she be?”

“Hanged if I know,” I confessed, shrugging. “I haven't seen her since yesterday evening.”

Noi tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe she's just slept in,” she suggested helpfully.

“What, Lavender Rhapsody?!” scoffed Scootaloo in disbelief. “Fat chance of that!”

“No – but there is a chance that those saboteurs could have...well, tried to sabotage her,” Sweetie-Belle cut in. “I thought I heard noises from her room in the hotel last night.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean anything,” I said reasonably. “She was probably just having trouble finding her hairbrush or something.”

“I wouldn't be so sure of that,” objected Sweetie-Belle. “It was all going on at about two o'clock in the morning. Surely Lavender wouldn't be awake that late, would she?”

Before any of us could answer, we heard the sharp puffing sounds of an engine close by. As we looked towards the sheds, we were horrified to notice the 602 steaming out of the depot, towing four coaches behind it. Now if it had been any other engine, that would have been fine – but that train had been set up for the scene we were supposed to be shooting that day, and the ponies in the cab didn't look anything like a legitimate loco crew. We ran after the train, frantically yelling for them to stop, but to no avail; the pony at the controls just pulled the regulator wide open and accelerated the 602 onto the main line, leaving a scene of confusion in its wake.

“What the hay's going on?!” I exclaimed, unable to make sense of what had just happened. “What's this all about?!”

“That's what I'd like to know too!” added Tarquin, a tone of anger apparent in his voice. “What kind of hooligan would just steal a random engine like this?!”

“Yeah, and where's the 602's driver and firepony?!”

But any further questions were promptly interrupted as High Score, who had noticed something lying on the siding where the 602 had been standing, suddenly called out to us, “TARQUIN, LOCO, COME AND HAVE A LOOK AT THIS!!”

“What is it, Score?!” I called, galloping up to him.

“Looks like they dropped something on the way out,” replied High Score. “Dunno whether it was a schedule or a set of instructions or something, but it mentions your name, Tarquin.”

“Let me see it!” Using my magic, I picked up the sheet of paper to which High Score had been referring just now, and began to read it – but once I had finished, I began to wish I hadn't.

Tarquin came up to me. “What had you found, High Score?”

“It's a ransom note!” I blurted out before High Score could say anything. “Lavender Rhapsody's been foalnapped! Just listen to this!” and I read the note out loud:

Tarquin

You honestly thought you could complete that pathetic waste of time and money you call a blockbuster? Well, you're wrong – always have been, and always will be. Without your precious Lavender Rhapsody, you are nothing.

If you ever want to see her again, you must send 80 million bits to the address overleaf. Do not try and track me down or get the media involved, and make sure you send the money within one week of receiving this letter, otherwise your film star will burn out forever.

Signed
Your Worst Nightmare

There was a long, tense, sort of Life of Brayin' pause. About fifteen seconds passed before Tarquin went into a right tizzy and blurted out, “What am I going to do now?! I can't just pay the ransom – that's about the same as the film budget! If I pay that, I'll be ruined!”

“Not if I can help it!” I said determinedly, before Tarquin's panic attack could get any worse. “They may have got Lavender Rhapsody, but that doesn't mean they've won just yet – not while we have the advantage of speed!”

“What?!” squeaked Rumble. “But that train will easily outpace us! Even I won't be able to fly fast enough to catch them!”

“No,” I pointed out, “but the 'City of Cloudsdale' is in steam. We use that to go after those goons, we'll easily catch them up!”

“But your Uncle Steamer hasn't come yet!”

At first, I was almost ready to go into a panic myself – without Uncle Steamer, we probably wouldn't......no, Locomotion, snap out of it, I thought to myself. If Uncle Steamer wasn't available, then we'd have to take matters into our own hooves. “Then we've no choice!” I decided. “I'll take charge of the engine; Tarquin, can you fire for me?”

“Might be a bit rusty, but I'll do my best.”

“Good – Scoot, Rumble, Tornado Bolt, you ride upfront and keep an extra eye on the track. Be sure to hang on tight though; it could get a bit bumpy in places. Lickety, Sweetie-Belle, Apple Bloom, Babs, High Score, you come in the cab with me and Tarquin – the rest of you go in the coach.”

With that, Tarquin and I scrambled into the cab, followed by Babs, Apple Bloom, Lickety-Split, High Score and a worried Sweetie-Belle. After checking that the three Pegasus foals were hanging tightly onto the engine by their wings, I released the brakes, set the reverser for full forward gear and slowly opened the regulator, carefully driving the massive express engine over the points, out of the depot and onto the open main line.

“Okay, everypony, hold tight!” I warned. “I'm gonna really open her up now!” and I opened the regulator further, enabling the “City of Cloudsdale” to gather speed as we raced after the fleeing foalnappers.

After we had only gone about ten miles, we noticed that part of the track we should have been running on (we were actually running in the Up direction, which is to say, in the direction of Canterlot, but the line we were running along was the Down line, on which all trains headed away from Canterlot are supposed to run) had been torn up – but more importantly, we could see the 602 about ten minutes ahead of us, plodding effortlessly along on the same track as “Cloudsdale”.

“This is it!” I shouted above the roar of the engine, and tugged hard on the whistle chain. That did exactly what I wanted it to; if the villains thought they were in the clear, they would likely have stopped in the middle of nowhere and retreated to wherever their hideout would be. But as soon as I blew the whistle, I could just about make out a fresh plume of smoke and steam blasting out of the 602's chimney as they opened her up and tried to outrun us.

“You don't lose me that easy, you goons!” I thought aloud, turning on full steam. “Come on, 'Cloudsdale' old girl! Don't let 'em get away!”

“Reckon we'll catch them up?” I heard Lickety-Split calling to me.

“We've got to!” I replied firmly. “Lavender Rhapsody's life and Tarquin's film career could well depend on us from here on in! Now get some more coal on the fire, guys – keep the pressure up!”

Tarquin obviously didn't need to be told twice though, for already he was shovelling furiously, trying to maintain as good a fire as he could. For somepony who mainly sat on his haunches, telling his actors and camera crew what they should be doing, he seemed to be doing an outstanding job of it – which is probably more than could be said of the foalnappers, considering how easily we were managing to keep up with them.

From what I heard later, they were absolutely horrified when they saw us coming up behind, and even more so when they realised that we had the better engine. In desperation, they tried everything they knew to get us off their tail, starting with a few sleepers they had picked up after tearing up that bit of track being thrown out from the rear carriage; but Scootaloo easily managed to spot them in time for Tarquin to levitate them out of our way. Talk about lame!

The next attempt, however, was a little bit more of a shock. As I picked up speed again after the fourth sleeper, Rumble calls back to me, “I think we're about to catch them, Loco!”

Leaning out of the cab window, I saw that we were gaining rapidly on the last coach of their train, and for a moment, I thought he was right. But luckily, a sudden realisation hit me before the engine even had a chance to hit the vehicle – they had deliberately uncoupled it! I shut off steam, slammed on the brakes and only just managed to stop a few inches from the coach, which had been brought to a standstill by the automatic brake.

“That was a close one,” I remarked, wiping the sweat off my brow as Tarquin got out and ran forward to couple us up to the stray coach. Mind you, there's no way I could have been the only one who had been shaken by that near miss; Sweetie-Belle in particular was hyperventilating in a bid to pull herself together, and even High Score had a relieved hoof against his chest. But this was no time to relax just yet; as soon as Tarquin had us coupled up, I released the brakes and set off again.

Just a few miles afterwards, the villains tried pushing the next coach backwards into us once they were uncoupled. But once again, the automatic brake caught them out, and we easily managed to avert disaster yet again – though with Babs and High Score watching from the coach in front of us.

As we rounded the next bend, however, Lady Luck nearly threw us off their trail herself. We were approaching a station at this point, and the moment I saw the signalbox ahead, I suddenly remembered that we were on the wrong track – and as if that wasn't enough, the Appleloosan, one of the other expresses that passes through Ponyville, was headed straight for us. Realising with horror that there could soon be a collision, I blew the whistle frantically in warning.

As we closed in on the station, one of the signals changed to green, indicating that we were being diverted onto the Up line. No doubt if you'd been in my horseshoes, you'd have just slammed on the brakes regardless; but I knew that this would be the least sensible thing to do if another train was about to hit us. I had to make for that crossover as fast as I could, before it was too late. Up ahead, I could see the villains swerving out of harm's way, and the massive City Class engine at the head of the Appleloosan pounding towards us, whistling furiously.

“WE'RE GONNA CRASH!!!” screamed Sweetie-Belle despairingly, and ran to take cover in the tender. I too shut my eyes and braced myself for the impact.

Then, with an almighty screech, I felt us veer off the Down line and onto the Up, the Appleloosan just missing the rear of our train. Looking back, I noticed the express speeding along as if nothing had happened, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow!” I remarked. “That was even closer than the last one – too close!”

“What are we gonna do now?” called Apple Bloom. “We can't go on forever – supposin' we run into another train?”

And quite right she was too. It wasn't as if anypony knew what was going on aboard the two trains, after all. “We've gotta alert the railway authorities somehow and let 'em know what's going on,” I said, shutting off steam again so we could hear each other talking.

“But how?!” objected Lickety-Split. “If we stop to let anypony off this train, those foalnappers are sure to get away!”

Even in her shaken state, Sweetie-Belle still seemed capable of thinking straight, as I was about to find out. “Couldn't we try doing what sailors do when they send messages?” she suggested.

“What, radio?! How's that gonna help if we ain't got no radio ourselves?” protested Apple Bloom.

“No, I'm talking about when they're stranded on a desert island or something,” insisted Sweetie-Belle. “Don't they usually put a message in a bottle and throw it out to sea?”

That was when I realised – if we did so, we could throw it across to the signalpony at the first signalbox we came to. “GENIUS!!” I burst out jubilantly. “Tarquin, you got a piece of paper handy?”

“Well...yes, actually; I've still got that ransom note Take-Two left us.”

“Good enough. Keep stoking, and I'll write the message.”

So Tarquin immediately resumed his shovelling while I scribbled a fresh note on the back of Take-Two's ransom note:

URGENT MESSAGE FOR E.N.R. PERSONNEL

Foalnappers are fleeing from Ponyville aboard Mustang Class No. 602. They have taken the Sydneigh actress/singer Lavender Rhapsody hostage with the intention of holding her to ransom (see overleaf for further info). We are pursuing them aboard City Class No. 2508 “City of Cloudsdale”, but we need a clear run through to Canterlot and the police to be present for their arrival.

Signed
Locomotion,
Nephew to Driver Steamer,
Ponyville MPD

That done, I placed it in a bottle that happened to be in the tender cupboard and opened the “City of Cloudsdale” up again, keeping a sharp lookout for the next station.