Perspective: Locomotion
The next few days for me were...kind of all over the place, to say the least. Even after talking to Uncle Steamer and Max about the accident and how I felt, I was still feeling a little delicate the following day, which would probably explain why I couldn't concentrate as well as I'd hoped during school. Heck, it's a good thing Miss Cheerilee had already agreed to advise the rest of my class against mentioning the whole fiasco!
But more than that, I arrived home that afternoon to find a member of the Railway Inspectorate waiting for me. Now, when I say the Railway Inspectorate, I refer to the ponies who investigate into railway accidents and make recommendations designed to prevent such mishaps from ever happening again – or at least reduce the risk. He basically wanted to get mine and Uncle Steamer's side of the story, get a bit of info on what we thought might have happened.
To be honest, I was a little uneasy as he began interviewing us – not because of my part in the crash, but because I was so much younger than all the other railway employees. Thing is, I've always had inspectors pegged as being very stern and rigid, so I was worried that he might think me too young for railway service and order for me to be kicked out of Ponyville MPD – and then that really would be the end of my career. But much to my surprise, he didn't seem all that bothered; not only had I acted appropriately when I realised what was about to happen, he reasoned, but from what Uncle Steamer had told him, I was more than responsible enough in a railway environment to carry on working for them. To top it all, he actually praised me for my efforts once I'd finished telling him how I helped those twenty passengers out of the front coaches.
So yeah, by the time he'd been and gone, I was feeling a little better about myself – maybe even a little satisfied with my own bravery. All the same, I still felt I needed a few more weeks to get over the shock of the whole thing, and so my parents and I decided to postpone my birthday party. It was just as well, really, because later that day, Mum found out that Vinyl Scratch was in rehab after overdoing it with the alcoholic drinks. That in itself came as a surprise, and I found myself lying awake in bed half the night, trying to work out why she would do such a thing.
But it was the grey-coated mare with the broken arm and the treble-clef Cutie Mark who stuck in my mind most of all. I hadn't seen or heard anything of her since returning from Horse Junction, and I found myself brooding over her continuously as the week went by. How bad were her injuries, all told? How long would it be until she was fully recovered? Would she ever recover at all? Those queries plagued my thoughts day in and day out, and in the end, I resolved to go and visit her in hospital as soon as I had a suitable opportunity.
It wasn't until the weekend that said opportunity finally arose, and that Saturday morning, I headed over to the hospital and asked to see the mare in question. Now, I think the receptionist must have been a bit confused by my request, because she gives me this really odd look like she doesn't know what I'm talking about; but then I explain that I was the one who rescued that pony, and she lets me go speak to her. “But try not to overwhelm her,” she adds. “She needs her rest.”
After promising that I wouldn't, I trotted along the corridor to the lobby just outside the post-anaesthesia recovery ward. There I saw a couple of Earth stallions sat nearby, one of whom I recognised as the last passenger we'd pulled free from the second coach; from the bandages he was wearing, I could tell that he must have been among the worse injured of the lot. Just as I was sitting down, he gazed upon me and said, “Oh...good morning.”
I didn't say anything, but gave a polite nod as I took a seat.
“Pardon my asking, young one,” the stallion went on tentatively, “but would I be right in thinking you were the colt who helped me out of my train a few nights ago?”
“Uh...yeah, I guess you might be,” I affirmed.
The stallion gave me a grateful smile. “I thought as much.”
That was when the other stallion, a slightly richer brown with an even darker brown mane and tail and a single golden quaver on each flank, seemed to realise; “Wait, that's the pony who rescued you? Well, I never did!” he remarked.
I allowed myself a small smile of my own for a few seconds, but my face promptly fell again as I was overcome by regret. “Yeah, sorry about the crash,” I answered ruefully.
“What are you apologising for?” objected the darker one. “Frederick and I never heard anything to suggest it was your fault, young 'un; in fact, he'd been telling me earlier that you'd done wonders helping him and all those other passengers. Nopony can fault you for that.”
“The way Octavia was talking, she certainly couldn't,” put in the other pony. “She'd been telling us just a few minutes ago how you patched her up and stayed by her side while they lifted her out of the carriage.”
I was rather taken aback when I heard the name “Octavia” being mentioned. While I hadn't actually met her before, I knew her and the rest of her group by reputation, and we even had some of their records at home, but actually hearing her name brought me to a stunning realisation. “Hang on just a minute!” I blurted out. “You don't mean that...that grey mare with the broken arm was...the Octavia Melody Philharmonica?!”
Both stallions nodded.
“Then...you're part of her group?”
“We certainly are,” affirmed the darker stallion. “I'm Concerto, and this here is Frederick Horseshoepin. We were on our way to Manehattan to provide the music for a Bridleway performance, and...well, I think you know the rest.”
I certainly did – and I tell you what, I was so flabbergasted by that revelation about the injured passenger who turned out to be Octavia that I couldn't think of anything else to say at first. To think that I'd been tending to a cultured and highly renowned musician all that time and hadn't realised up till now! That's like working on an antiquated old 4-4-0 from the 19th century and learning that she once held the land speed record!
“From what the hospital staff had been saying,” went on Frederick gravely, “she wasn't doing too well when they brought her in – apparently she needed a transfusion before they could operate on her arm. In fact, if it hadn't been for you...well...let's just say things could have been a lot worse for her.”
An ominous shudder coursed down my spine. “Doesn't bear thinking about,” I muttered solemnly. Then I looked up at Frederick and asked, “How is she doing now?”
“Still a little out of sorts, to be frank,” replied Frederick, “but at least she's on the mend now.” He paused for a few seconds, almost as if he was deep in thought. “By the way, I never did ask what your name was.”
“Oh...Loco, short for Locomotion.”
Frederick nodded in response before continuing; “Locomotion...I can't thank you enough for how you helped us that night. Octavia's always been like a sister to me, and I don't know how I would have coped if I knew she was gone.”
“It's okay, Mr Horseshoepin,” I said modestly. “I'm just glad she's still alive to tell the tale. I'm not sure I would have been able to forgive myself otherwise.”
“You're a true equinitarian, Locomotion,” praised Frederick softly. “I hope you never lose that gentle spirit of yours.”
That actually humbled me so much that I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I know there are some ponies who get all conceited by their own acts of heroism, and all the praise they get for it – heck, that's especially true of Rainbow Dash sometimes – but in this case, I just felt so overwhelmed that some really important pony should think so highly of a veritable country pony like me, and all because I'd helped someone close to them. “Well...thank you, sir,” I managed to stammer.
Frederick said no more, but smiled appreciatively as another pony, a sort of light blue mare with brown mane and tail, exited the ward. Seeing that nopony else was getting up to go inside, I took that as my cue to go in and see how Octavia was doing.
Octavia was almost half-asleep when I entered her suite, but still awake enough to notice my presence. Her arm was now in a plaster cast, and there was a vase sitting on her bedside table with some flowers in it, along with a few “get well soon” cards.
“Hullo, miss,” I greeted, making out like I didn't know her name out of politeness. “How are you feeling?”
The grey-furred mare gave me a dozy half-smile. “Much better, thank you,” she replied. “You are...the little colt who bandaged me up after the train crash?”
“Got it in one,” I affirmed. “I'm Locomotion, but my friends call me Loco.”
“I'm Octavia – Octavia Melody Philharmonica.”
“Ah, just like those two stallions were saying,” I remarked. “Yeah, I've heard of you – that cellist from Canterlot who plays at all sorts of formal events, am I right?”
Octavia looked amazed. “You know about my group?”
“Oh, yeah. The rest of the family and I have taken quite the liking to your music, and we've even got some of your records at home. Never thought I'd be helping you out of a wrecked passenger carriage, though.” I allowed myself a small, awkward grin at this point as I thought of how weird it was, dropping in on somepony I didn't know just because they'd been hurt in a train crash. Even weirder was that I already felt something of a kinship with this mare – both of us had been deeply affected by this accident, her physically and me emotionally, so it actually felt strangely right somehow. There was a brief pause between us, which Octavia eventually broke;
“So...am I right in assuming you like trains?” she asked, almost cautiously, as if she wasn't sure how best to continue our conversation.
I couldn't help but smile at that little query. “'Like' doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about them,” I said. “I'm just...so passionate about railways it's untrue.”
“And...you actually work for them?”
“Well, I don't really wish to boast about it, but yeah, I do work for them. I'm actually quite lucky compared to most railway buffs,” I went on, “because the railways don't usually employ ponies of my age group. My uncle and the local Motive Power Superintendent see a lot of potential in me, though, so they made an exception.”
Octavia smiled again. “You've certainly got the enthusiasm to go with it,” she remarked wistfully. “You remind me of a unicorn mare I used to know back in my high-school days.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Another railway enthusiast?”
“No,” replied Octavia. “Her name was Linsey Woolsey, and she was a budding young musician, just like me. She liked all kinds of music, but particularly rock, dubstep and the like, and wanted to become a DJ one day. But her parents didn't approve of her ambitions. They owned a really big fabric manufacturing business that they wanted her to inherit when she was old enough, and wouldn't let her anywhere near a musical instrument. Even when her Cutie Mark appeared and marked her destiny as a musician, they refused to accept it.”
That was the sort of thing that really infuriated me, and I made no secret of it as Octavia told me about this friend of hers. What in the hay kind of ponies would force their own daughter to go against her own Cutie Mark – her life dreams, even?! Here she was, keen on making a name for herself in music, and yet they insisted on keeping her under the shadow of their business! In Locomotion's Equestria, anypony who did that to their own offspring would have been fined half their fortune for it. But all that aside, for some weird reason, Octavia's description of this Linsey Woolsey pony was sounded strangely familiar, almost as if I'd met her before.
“I had tried many times to talk some sense into those two, and so had a pony from this very town who...I don't know if you know her, she runs a shop called the Carousel Boutique.”
“Who, Rarity? Yes, I know her,” I observed. “Matter of fact, her little sister Sweetie-Belle once told me that she'd gone to Canterlot for a bit of work experience before opening Carousel.”
Octavia affirmed that with a gentle nod before continuing; “No matter how hard we tried, they still wouldn't give in, and ultimately Linsey decided to turn her back on them completely. A few days later, they sent her off to a finishing school in Fillydelphia, and she bought her ticket for some other place instead. It was a hard choice for both of us, but it was the only way she could escape such a cruel fate.”
Another wistful sigh escaped her lips, and for a moment, I thought I could see a small tear forming in her eye. “So...she ran away?” I asked softly.
“Yes, Loco, she did. It was one of the saddest moments I'd ever been through, and it still pains my heart just thinking about it.” Octavia closed her eyes and sang me this absolute tearjerker of a song, presumably thinking back to all the good times she and this mystery mare had shared. That was when it dawned on me – friends they may have been, but through time and separation, her feelings for this other pony had grown far deeper, and I could see as much from her expression. It's often said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and there, right in front of me, was my prime evidence. She didn't just miss this other mare – she loved her.
“Goodness, Octavia,” I whispered as her song came to its climax, “that must have been an awful thing to go through.” I wiped away a few tears of my own. “I'm so sorry.”
Octavia smiled sadly. “You don't need to be sorry about it, Loco,” she soothed. “Some things just aren't meant to be.”
“Yeah, but still – to lose somepony so close to you and not realise how you felt for them until too late? That's a really cruel thing to have happen, especially to somepony so cultured as you,” I protested.
“Maybe, but there's not a lot we can do about it,” said Octavia solemnly. “If anything, I should be grateful for what I have now, and particularly for your being there when my train crashed. I can't thank you enough for it.”
“Oh...don't mention it. We railway ponies have a duty to our passengers, after all.” At that moment, the matron came into the suite and said it was time to leave. Just before I did, something occurred to me that I hoped might make us quits while at the same time allowing us more time to forge our new friendship. “Actually, Octavia, I know this sounds a bit...premature, but I'm gonna be throwing a birthday party in a few weeks' time. If you want, I could add you to the guest list.”
Octavia pondered, and for a moment, I couldn't help but wonder if I might have jumped the gun a little. “Well...I won't be able to entertain,” she said at last, “but I suppose I could come. Are you sure that'll be alright?”
“Of course it will. It'd be an honour to have a Canterlot musician attending my party. If you like,” I added helpfully, “you can think of it as your way of repaying your debt to me for helping you out in that crash.”
“Oh...well, in that case, it'd be my pleasure.”
“Thanks. I'll let you know when we'll be holding it. Anyway, see you round, Octavia, and I hope everything goes well with you.” And so, after a final thank-you from Octavia, I left her to rest in peace and headed home.
Incredibly, it didn't take all that long for the Railway Inspectorate to complete their investigation and compile their report, which was published only five days after my birthday. It turned out that Switcher, not being used to night shifts, had been so preoccupied with the westbound freights that he had forgotten all about the 669 and 1074, and even forgot to slip the vital collar over the handle of the main starter signal lever, which would have prevented it from being pulled off for the Limited. This in turn meant that there was nothing to remind him of their presence, or even to send the blocking back signal to Windy Vale.
To make matters worse, there had been a fatal misunderstanding on the part of both drivers. The pony in charge of the trailing engine, Iron Duke, was an experienced stallion with 20 years' service under his cinch and a strict sense of protocol which, in this case, had worked against him; for it was his belief that the crew of the leading engine, 1074, should act on Rule 55 first. With any other crew, this probably would have worked out fine, but the engine just so happened to be under the charge of a passed firepony – in other words, a firepony who is also permitted to drive engines should the need arise. The pony in question, Truro, was aware of Rule 55, but had rarely ever been stopped at a signal in all his life, and was therefore under the impression that it didn't apply within station limits. Ironically, Truro's wife (I never did catch her name) just so happened to be Iron Duke's firemare that night, so it's a wonder she never thought to advise him of his misgivings.
John Bull later filled me in on his side of the story. Following the somewhat mixed signals from me and Switcher (excusing the pun), he kept the “City of Coltenburg” going at full power in readiness for the final gradient before Winsome Peak Summit, completely oblivious to my warning. The train roared through Hock Hill Tunnel and round a sweeping curve before crossing the Lundy Viaduct beyond – and that was when he saw, to his horror, the two light engines plodding laxly along only a few hundred yards ahead of him. Frantically, he shut off steam and slammed on the brakes; but it was already too late to stop, even though Iron Duke had seen him coming and turned on full steam. Coal Heaver only just had time to jump clear, but John stayed put until the impact threw him off of his seat and into the controls, luckily without serious injury.
Switcher openly admitted full responsibility for not ensuring that the two engines left on time, or holding the Limited back while they cleared their section. He was subsequently discharged from his duties, taking up a new job in a telephone exchange office in Albaneigh, while Truro and Iron Duke were relegated to fitters in Delamare MPD. I do feel a little sorry for Iron Duke, though; the last I heard of him, he had resigned from his post out of pure shame for his part in the accident, and was working as a builder in Suffolk. I can only hope he's doing okay at the moment.
The news media and the Railway Inspectorate report heralded me as the hero of the Horse Junction accident, and for quite some time afterwards, I found there wasn't a single pony who didn't have anything to say about my involvement in rescuing those injured passengers. I felt humbled by all the praise, but also a little trapped by all the attention, and in the end, my parents had to take me for an impromptu vacation in Hollow Shades in order for me to properly gather myself, with Max generously paying all the required expenses. When we returned home a week later, I was relieved to discover that the fuss over the previous month's fiasco had all but died down, so I could finally go about my life as per normal.
One little loose end still remained, however, in the form of my birthday party. Vinyl was out of rehab by the time we returned, so my parents quickly arranged for the party to take place around the end of the month; and this time, all my friends were able to attend as I'd been hoping for. As for Octavia...well, in the interim between the accident and our absence, the whole family had gained a pretty good friend in her, so after she was discharged from the hospital a few days after I returned, she remained true to her word and booked herself into one of the local hotels for a week. If nothing else, she observed, it would be a good excuse to catch up with her cousin. I've got to admit, I was absolutely stunned to find out that she, a cultured Canterlot cellist with a high-class background, was related to Pinkie Pie of all ponies! That, however, was nothing compared to the surprise I got on the actual day...