Playing an Ace
Carrot Top was beginning to get comfortable inside her case. One of the blessings of being miniaturised was that the padding which was used in the case’s interior now felt even plusher under her hooves. Another blessing that Whooves had created for her was a small periscope that he had fitted to the suitcase, this, combined with the two way microphone set her and Whooves possessed, enabled her to keep up to speed with what was going on outside. Peering through its lens she could see Whooves, the Guard and the Porter all sat on packing crates, sat round a larger crate which they were using as a table.
The guard was casually shuffling a pack of cards “Care for a game yourself Whooves?”
Whooves was about to say yes when Carrot Tops voice came on over his earpiece, almost making him jump.
“If you even think about playing a game I think I might just plant a few more pear trees in your garden!” She was well aware of how bad Whooves track record of gambling was, having beat him herself a good few times.
Mentally terrified at this threat, Whooves reconsidered “Err, no… it appears I’ve got no bits on me”
The porter reached into his waistcoast pocket and produced a bag of small wooden scraps, which he tipped out on top of the large crate “Well, we usually play for matchsticks”
Carrot Top was about to open her mouth again, but Whooves jumped in before she could do so “Well in that case, I think I will participate” He threw a smug glance at the suitcase as he said it.
Back in Canterlot Octavia was alone in the throne room, studying the massive map of Canterlot, Trottingham and the surrounding areas. The railway line the train was travelling along had been marked out in red, and Octavia had used a varied selection of badges she owned to mark off the checkpoints the train had passed. She had planned to use more official looking pins to mark its progress, but in her rush to get to the castle that morning she’d left them behind at her apartment, so had to settle with the random array of she had attached to her saddlebag. Octavia intently studied the place names on the map, finding out all the places that she had visited herself, and all the places she wanted to visit.
Telephones were an unusual sight in Equestria. Mainly due to the fact that the magic that powered them was still a relatively new form, and as such had many teething problems. The local newspapers had already jumped onto the bandwagon of creating scare stories about ponies that had allegedly suffered side effects from using them.
Ring. Ring.
Octavia jumped as the phones ringing bell shattered the silence like a stone against a glass window.
“Oh no” fear began to set in a she saw the receiver vibrate from the ringing “What do I do?”
All the other times the phone had rang that morning the Princess had answered it, leaving Octavia to make notes of the message she’d received or mark off the trains progress with another badge. But now the princess had
She extended a hoof out to pick up the receiver flinching slightly as she though the phone could possibly shock her when she touched it.
“OK Octavia, you can do this. If fillies half your age can use one of these things with ease then surely you can!”
The phone rang menacingly again, crushing all the confidence she had just built up.
“Hello?!” she almost squeaked in panic as she pressed the receiver up to her ear.
There was stunned silence from the other end of the line “Umm, this is four…”
Octavia screamed, throwing down the receiver to the floor. Even more panic suddenly set in. What if she’d just broken the princess’ telephone? What if that meant she’d have ruined the whole operation? How she imagined the rest of her life suddenly flashed before her eyes. Her exile from Canterlot, living as a travelling pony, having to replace her beloved cello with a concertina. The thought of having to play such a lower class instrument terrified her.
She nervously approached the receiver, leaning her head down to the floor so she could try and hear any noise from it “Hello?”
“This is four. She’s just passed” The deadpan tones of a stallion spoke on the other end of the phone, before promptly hanging up.
Octavia lifted her head up and stared down at the receiver.
“I got myself worked up over that?”
A large clunk from the heavy throne room doors signalled the Princess’ return as Octavia placed the receiver back on the dialling unit.
“Any news on the train?” She asked, neglecting to mention she’d secretly been watching Octavia’s struggle with the phone through the gap in the doors for a few minutes previously.
“It’s just passed checkpoint four, Princess” Octavia said as she pinned a badge of a large tabby cat to the relevant position on the map.
“Good” Celestia smiled as she used her magic to bring a tea set into existence, complete with two china cups already filled with a delicious golden blend “Over halfway to Canterlot and no sign of the opposition”
Octavia picked up her china cup in her hooves, blowing the steam that was rising from it “Well, with checkpoints every ten miles, we should be safe now”
Fenman was rather surprised that when he’d gotten his cutie mark of a spoke railway wheel. Given that he was quite skilled with the ever expanding magic powered radio equipment that was becoming more common in Equestria he always expected to get one to do with that. He had one of his homemade devices besides him on Porter’s dining room table, a transmitter and receiver to keep in contact with other ponies who had the hand held speakers that corresponded to it. The array of switches and buttons on it completely stumped Porter, but he was amazed at how easily Fenman was able to work the machine and get a clear sound out of it.
“Thank you Cutler. Out”
Fenman flicked the off switch on the transmitting part of the machine before turning to the tatty and rather faded map of the surrounding railway lines he had spread out over the remaining space on the table. He picked up a little flag pin that was had been stuck into the a point along the main railway line, moving it further along the tracks before pinning it down again.
“That’s where the train is now, Porter”
Looking down at the map, Porter was starting to have some doubts about this whole scheme “This is all official, isn’t it Sir?”
Fenman “My dear Porter, I thought you’d be glad to have a train back at Stirrup Halt?”
“Well, I am Sir. But there hasn’t been a train up for over ten years. And back in my day the trains weren’t tracked with…”
Fenman cut in pointing a hoof down at the map “Well one’s coming now!”
Porter was now beginning to feel he might be right about his suspicions.
The guard placed a card down on the crate “Your turn Whooves”
“Now let me see…” Whooves pondered on which card to play.
Carrot Top was still looking out of the case through the periscope. Even more so now with the fact that with where the guard and the porter had decided to sit, she could clearly see their cards. She already spent the last few games shaking her head at Whooves attempts to win, only proving to her that the only thing he was good at with cards was building card towers on the desk of his study. Seeing that he was taking far to long to think about his move, she decided to give him a hand by talking to him over their earpiece connection.
“If you’ve got the Ace play that, neither the guard nor porter has got a king!”
Whooves looked across the van past the guard and the porter, shooting a look of slight anger at the suitcase “I wish you wouldn’t tell me what they’ve got in their hooves, Carrot Top!” He muttered a bit too loudly.
The porter looked up from the cards he held “Did you say something Whooves?”
“What me?” Whooves said, trying very badly to act surprised “I said nothing”
He reached into the cards he held, pulled out one and placed it down on the table. He smiled at the porter “Your move!”
The porter looked down at the card Whooves had just placed down and began grumbling to himself. It was the ace.
Fenman was quite envious of Porter for living inside the old station. One item that Porter noticed he seemed to be taking a keen interest in was the old waiting room clock, which hung proudly above the ticket window, still ticking the time out perfectly as if the station had never closed.
“You seem to have taken a liking to the station clock, if you don’t mind me saying so Sir” Porter said, trying to make conversation.
“Yes, it just amazes me how little the appearance of the station has changed since it closed” Fenman raised a forehoof to his chin, pondering “Tell me Porter, do you still have your uniform from when you worked on the line”
“It’s tucked away in the back of a cupboard Sir; I couldn’t bear to part with it”
“Well then, why don’t you go and change into it. It’d look more smart and formal for when the train finally arrives”
Porter suddenly seemed to be filled with all the excitement of a young pony, whatever suspicions he had were now completely erased by the though of wearing his old uniform again. Without saying a word he quickly darted into one of the side rooms and began rummaging.
Fenman smirked. He didn't think it would be that easy to get him out of the way. Now it was time to proceed with the next stage of the plan. He flicked the transmitter on and chose the correct strength of magic to broadcast at, looking back up at the time ticking by on the clock.
“Belle? You remember what you’ve got to do? Good. It’s Eight forty two…” He waited for the last few seconds to tick away on the waiting room clock “Now! Right Belle, on your way”
Southern Belle had been standing on a road bridge that spanned the railway line, making herself inconspicuous by having a camera and tripod set up besides her to take photographs of the steam trains as they passed through. Not that there was much need to make herself inconspicuous, the roads were deserted, and having a cutie mark that looked like an Equestrian steam train gave her a feasible excuse, for she’d earned it from photographing steam trains. Having received the signal from Fenman she picked up the tripod with one of her forehooves and carried it off the bridge, concealing it in some bushes at the verge of the country lane, along with her small transmitter receiver. Looking further down the line towards the Canterlot end she could see a small and rather lonely signal box in the distance. She began to trot at a steady pace towards it.
The pony in the signal box was used to long shifts that felt like an eternity. But being on one of the loneliest stretches of line guaranteed two things of which he was very happy. A lot of time to read his vast collection of books, and a good view from the great glass window that gave him a view of the line. Having set the signals for the next train to come through the signalpony was now proceeding to finish the last few lines of the chapter he was on whilst his tin kettle boiled on his small stove. BANG! Southern Belle threw the door to the signal box wide open, standing imposingly in the doorway.
“Here! I’m afraid you’re not allowed in here, madam” The signal pony was still trying to recover from the fact that he had almost been scared to death by her entrance.
Southern Belle simply reached into her saddlebag, removing a small jam jar. It’s contents were clearly obvious, a pair of Parasprites.
She gave him a smug look “This usually makes ponies change their minds”
“What are you doing” he raised his hooves above his head to surrender “What do you want”
“There’s a train due through here in two minutes. I want it stopped in the Bridleoak tunnel”
“That’s impossible” He knew this was a lie. The train would be so close to signal now that it would no doubt over run it and end up in the tunnel “I can’t…”
Belle gave out a sarcastic sigh, reaching with her other forehoof she twisted the lid to the jar slightly open, causing the signalpony to sharply breathe in through gritted teeth. Seeing that she had him figuratively wrapped round her hoof with the threat of destroying his signal box, she spoke to him slyly again, brushing her long, chocolate brown tail under his chin.
“Do it”
Realising that there was definitely no way to get out of this situation, the signal pony walked over to his lever frame and simply pulled back on one of the levers. The signal just outside his window dropped from the all clear signal to danger. Due to the box and signal being located on a bend, he knew there was no way the driver would be able to stop in time for it with the speed he was certain he’d be going.
Inside the parcels van, Whooves was rather pleased with his large amount of matchsticks he’d acquired. He was just about to place down another card when…
“Hang on” The guard began.
“Look” Whooves sighed “It’s pretty obvious I don’t have any sleeves to conceal any cards up”
“No” the guard continued “Just listen to the sound of the train”
All three listened to the steady rhythm of the train rolling along that tracks. Clickety clack, clickety clack, clickety clack. Whooves suddenly noticed that the gap of silence in-between the clickety clacks was getting longer and longer.
“Are we slowing down?” He asked.
The guard nodded “And were miles from any station at this point on the line”
Whooves threw a nervous glance towards the suitcase on the luggage rack, which Carrot Top noticed all to well through her periscope.
“Good work Belle, Cutler’s flying above the line and by my calculations should be there shortly to pick you up. You two had better get back here as fast as you can. Out”
Fenman switched off the transmitter, unpinning the flag off the map of the railway line and placing it further down the line on top of the icon for the tunnel. He turned back to his transmitter and began switching it to a different strength of magic, eventually getting the right setting.
“This is the station to leader. The train will stop in the Bridleoak tunnel, as arranged”
The Bridleoak tunnel was located on one of the loneliest parts of the line. Since the Equestrian Railway Board had made reductions in its line side staff heavy shrubbery and vines had covered the red brick tunnel entrance, causing it to blend in with the surroundings more. The result being that the tunnel now looked like a gaping black hole into the earth.
Inside, the tunnel its condition was no better. Thick soot and ashes caked the walls, falling off in clumps from the slightest disturbance and mixing in with the air. It most certainly wasn’t a place that ponies would casually visit, which made it the ideal hiding place for its single occupant. Having hastily tied a handkerchief round their muzzle to keep out the work of the soot and ash, the figure had walked through the tunnel by the light of an old oil lamp until they came to the emergency point levers. The levers themselves operated a set of points concealed within the tunnel itself, for halfway through the single track of the closed Stirrup line branched off the mainline, running into its own separate tunnel and turning sharply to the right. The separate tunnel had been boarded up when the line closed, but fresh marks and a stack of planks at the side of the tunnel showed the figure had been hard at work putting their plan into action. Even though they were the leader of the whole operation, he still wanted to carry out the main hijacking himself.
Having received the message from Fenman that the train was fast approaching minutes ago, he’d taken up his position at the side of the line, waiting for the prey to fall right into the trap. The deep growl of the approaching train entering the tunnel woke him from his drowsy state, and he stood up, putting hooves on the lever for when the train passed so he could switch the points and then reverse it back up the branch. But it never did. Having just overshot a danger signal, the driver had instantly put on the brakes, bringing it to a stop further up the tunnel.
Walking back up the track towards the train, the figure stepped into the hazy light beaming from the engines lamps. It was Moneybags.
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This looks neat. I'll follow it and see.