Prologue

If you asked five different ponies the same question, you’d get five different answers.

“How is the diplomatic visit to Earth going?”

Per Diem, the head of the Palace’s Diplomatic Office, would say that the trip was a wild success - in just two weeks, Equestria had been recognized by over one hundred of Earth’s nations, and the safety of the interdimensional portal had been assured by bilateral agreements with both NATO and the Warsaw Pact.
Stamped Passport, the head of the Palace’s Travel Office, would say that the trip could have gone better. He was still reaming out members of his staff for the reservation screwup in New York City - half the delegation had been forced to stay in the hotel across the street as a result, and he was not going to let anypony make that mistake again.
Tempered Steel, the head of the Princess’ personal guard detail, would say that how the trip was going was irrelevant - but she would rather the Princess have stayed in Canterlot. The human world had a variety of threats that her detail was unfamiliar with, to say the least. Privately, she was grateful for the help offered by the Secret Service, even if she was embarrassed that she’d had to ask.
Cyrus Vance, the U.S. Secretary of State, was privately and publicly delighted at how the visit had gone. Princess Celestia had politely listened to Zbigniew Brzezinski’s plan to exclude the Soviets from Equestria’s diplomatic outreach programs, and then just as politely told him to get out of her sight. With Cyrus’ help, she’d then walked away from the negotiating table with a neutrality agreement signed by both the US and the USSR. Honestly, the Equestrians could have done anything short of joining the Warsaw Pact and Cyrus wouldn’t have cared - the apoplectic expression on the National Security Advisor’s face was well worth it. The fact that the ponies had willingly gone along with the State Department’s position of normalizing relations with the Soviets was just an added bonus.

5. Princess Celestia, on the other hoof…

Caged

Philadelphia, June 1979

The Sun set over the human city. Ordinarily, this would not be an unusual sight - just another summer night in the last year of the decade. However, when one had spent the last two hundred decades raising and lowering the Sun on a daily basis, watching it do so on its own was a fascinating sight.

Of course, watching was about all that Celestia could do. Considering that the trip into the human world, through the wormhole Twilight - and how proud she was that Twilight had done so - had created in space and time and into the world of the humans, was supposed to be all about her, it was surprising how little she’d actually been able to do.

Thus far, the trip had been a whirlwind excursion of all the finest conference rooms, hotel suites, reception halls, office buildings, armored cars, and secure trains the humans had to offer. The closest that Celestia had come to sightseeing was looking outside the window of the impressively fast trains the humans used to shuttle her between New York City and Washington DC, and looking out at the view outside her hotel room. And even that was dependent on her security detail not creating tactical cloudbanks to block attacks from ranged weaponry. (She had tried informing Commander Steel that her Alicorn immortality was unlikely to fade away just because she was outside of Canterlot Castle, but to no avail. The recent ‘incidents’ in Equestria’s history meant that her Royal Protective Detail was much less likely to care about comfort over safety.)

Fortunately this hotel had been hastily refitted with ‘bulletproof glass’, thus allowing her to have an actual view. She wasn’t sure if she preferred the cloudbank. At least then she wouldn’t know what she was missing. The city spread out beneath her like a tapestry of lights. It was bigger than Canterlot, Manehattan, and Los Pegasus put together, and from visiting New York City, she knew it wasn’t even the biggest city in the United States, let alone the world.

The Japanese and Mexican ambassadors to the United Nations had engaged in a friendly argument over which country had the claim of the largest city in the world. It had come down to brass tacks, defining what counted as a city and what was ‘the metro area’. The topic fascinated her, that such a difference was even possible. There was no such concept as a ‘metro area’ in Equestria - there didn’t need to be, but the humans had so many people that they’d decided to make a differentiating term.

She’d almost asked her staff to put Tokyo or Mexico City on their tour, to add it to the maelstrom of cities and countries already vying for her attention - Moscow, London, Ottawa, Cairo, New Dehli, Addis Ababa, Brasilia; China: People’s Republic and Republic of - but had decided against it. There was no need to visit more places just to satisfy her own curiosity, especially when she couldn’t even visit them.

She pressed her snout against the thick glass, wondering for a moment if a childish temper tantrum would actually get her anything. The city was Right. There! She could see it! And yet she couldn’t touch it - couldn’t interact with it.

Like a bird in a cage.

She honestly could have moped about it all night - sat there in front of the window as the human city slowly lit up under the light of the crescent moon. Luna wouldn’t stand for this. She thought to herself. Luna would be out there - in the lights of the city.

Even as she thought it she could picture the scene in her mind.

Luna, who normally eschewed her protective details out of spite, would have been out and about at every opportunity. Luna would have jumped at the chance to make her guards squirm and would have gratefully accepted every invitation to visit anything - like Celestia had wanted to - instead of politely turning them down because it meant less headache for her staff.

That’s why this hurts so much. She mused, rubbing her hoof along the window frame. It’s not just that I’m a caged bird wanting to be free - it’s that I got into the cage willingly.

When did I start acting like this? Like my desires don’t matter? Was it so long ago that my little ponies don’t even think I have any? She thought about New York - about how seemingly everypony in the delegation had visited a pizzeria at some point - the city was famous for them, and for good reason, if their glowing reviews were any indication.

Everypony, that is, except her. Even when Per Diem had had four whole pies delivered to the Royal Floor, she had eaten meals created by her personal chef. Nopony had asked if she wanted any - including her.

And why would they? She thought in a mocking version of her own accent. The Royal Tastebuds must never touch such common foodstuffs. They must only contact the finest meals in all the land!

That night she’d eaten a meal that most of the Canterlot nobles would have given several of their limbs to taste. It was created from the finest ingredients in Equestria, and made by master chefs who cooked exclusively for the palace even when she traveled abroad - ponies who had devoted their very lives to serving her.

And it turned to ash on her tongue as she listened to her staff enjoy four large cheese and mushroom pizzas from Lipanelli’s on 37th Street.

I could have asked. She thought bitterly as she watched train traffic rumble across a bridge in the distance. They would have fallen over themselves to give me every slice they had. They would have ordered more. All I had to do was ask.

And I won’t. Because Princess Celestia doesn’t do that. Her eyes watered a little bit as she realized that it was her own actions that had brought her to this point. I wear this crown so well that nopony realizes that there’s a pony underneath it.

All I would have to do is show them that I’m a pony too, like Twilight and Luna, but - “OW!”

She was jolted out of her ruminations by a sharp pain in her hoof. Pulling it back revealed a tiny spot of blood. “And this is why Steel is so paranoid…” She muttered to herself as she inspected the window sill for the culprit. Alicorn immortality didn’t mean she was invulnerable, even to… “Aha!” A small glazing sprig that was poking out of the redone window frame. When she’d absently rubbed her hoof over the sill, she’d driven it into her frog just enough to draw blood.

In the washroom, she gently wiped the blood off, before casting a healing spell to seal the wound. It really wouldn’t do for me to get an infection from a nail. She thought, mentally recounting the number of times in the past two weeks she’d heard the human proverb about horseshoe nails.

As she turned to leave, she heard a noise she hadn’t before - it sounded like the city - which was unusual, as the glass in her room was thick enough to repel not only weapons, but also sounds. Following the sound to the source revealed that there was a small window over the bathtub/shower, hidden behind a shower curtain. Tapping the glass, she realized that unlike the massive picture window in her suite, the bathroom window was not made of thick, layered glass that was permanently attached to the frame. It was normal, thin glass, with a little crank next to it.

She stared at the crank for a moment. If she really was the goody-four-hooves Princess that everypony thought she was, she should turn around and tell somepony about this obvious lapse in security. She really should tell somepony. Really. As much as she disliked making problems for her staff, this was something that they should be made aware of.

Maybe she would tell them, but not right now. Now…

She reached out with her magic, unlatching the window and turning the crank. The window opened, allowing the sounds of the city to enter the bathroom, carried on a stiff breeze that blew through her ethereal mane. She took a moment to savor the feeling - the last time she’d been able to just stand and enjoy the breeze had been the morning of her departure from Canterlot.

After a few minutes, the feeling wore off, and she realized that she was standing in a bathroom, half into a bathtub, just to get a bit of breeze. “What am I doing?” She asked herself, feeling a little ridiculous - she had briefing papers to read over for the morning, she couldn’t just stand here all night.

Sighing, she turned and left the bathroom, leaving the window open. The breeze would feel nice later.

That’s right little birdy - back into your cage. A harsh voice in the back of her head brought her up short. Hadn’t she just been complaining about being trapped in here?

“That’s ridiculous,” She said to herself as she trotted back into the bathroom. “I’m being ridiculous. It isn’t even big enough to…”

She trailed off. The window was big enough - just barely.

“No. I can’t. I’m being dramatic.” She turned to leave the bathroom again. She really did have work to do. She couldn’t just get up and run off because she felt-

Tweet tweet tweet! Lock me up and throw away the key! Let Luna and Cadance have all the fun!

That did it. Celestia took a few measured steps into the suite, reached the far wall, turned around, and galloped for the bathroom. Two steps before the tub she took a giant leap - out the window and away from the hotel.

And then she was flying.

Flight

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It was a freeing feeling, flying. Celestia couldn't tell how long it had been since she had just gone out for the sake of flying. Maybe it had been with Luna - when she had first returned? And even then she had been so damned tired from everything that had just happened that she’d almost fallen asleep on a cloud on the way back.

Before then? She couldn’t remember. Certainly not in this century, she realized with a blink. If she was flying, it was for transportation, not leisure.

In fact, when was the last time she’d done something for leisure? Just leisure? With no hidden motives or another purpose tacked onto it? She couldn’t remember.

Maybe it was when she last went flying for fun, she thought sardonically.

She spent a while circling above Philadelphia’s downtown, formulating a plan: She was going to do something for fun. What that something was, she hadn’t yet determined. She’d made her jailbreak quite late at night, if the clock on the side of one the buildings - Independence Hall, she remembered - was accurate. Most museums and other cultural sites would be closed at this hour, and it didn’t make sense to go to all this effort just to go to a park or walk around the city. She just knew somehow that she wasn’t going to be able to do this again - so every moment had to count.

Then an audible gurgling sound emanated from her barrel, and the plan crystalized in her mind. I should go out for dinner. She thought to herself. I should go get pizza.

Where does one get pizza? she thought to herself as she soared over massive office buildings. Does anywhere other than New York City even have pizza?

She remembered what she had been told by the mayor of New York City when they’d met at the United Nations. The balding human had declared with gusto that: ‘Only New York has real pizza - everywhere else just serves up a cheese covered lie!

I suppose that means I’m going to New York City, she thought finally.

Of course, this was easier thought than done. There were some problems with this plan: trivialities like not being in New York City, and more important issues, like not knowing how to get there.

Celestia, as the most important member of the Equestrian diplomatic mission, had obviously not been issued with something plebeian like a street map - after all, when would Her Majesty go off alone? - so she had no idea how to leave Philadelphia, let alone find New York City.

She was willing to fly there, but her transportation to and from the locations had been somewhat lacking in the visual sense. She had been bundled into first an elevator, then an armored passenger car at the underground train station in New York, which had promptly whisked her to Philadelphia at a speed fast enough to render the lineside a blur. All she knew is that Philadelphia was to the southwest of New York City, but seeing as she didn’t even know which way was north, she was out of luck.

Settling down on a cloud above the river to plan her next move, she was scared back into the air when a loud HONK pierced the otherwise relatively silent night. Peering over the side of the cloud, she saw another train, its passenger cars lit up like a Hearth’s Warming Day tree, roll across the bridge below, bound for - “The Train Station!”

Jumping off of the cloud, she winged her way towards the covered platforms of the station. Surely there must be a train for New York City here!

In terms of ‘easier said than done’, finding a train to New York City seemed to rank up there with “I can wake up early in the morning and do this” and “Of course I’ll stick to my diet.”

The station was massive, with two levels and a gargantuan station building putting even Canterlot’s ornate Central Terminus to shame. Most of the trains that were running at this late hour were commuter trains, running to the outskirts of Philadelphia and going no further. Several bewildered looking humans in official looking uniforms assured her that a train would be leaving for New York at some point, but had been unsure as to where it would leave from, other than the Lower Platforms.

The lower platforms were no easier to navigate, a subterranean network of tracks, stairs, and ramps that were quiet at this point in the night. There were only a few platforms currently occupied with a train, but if the garbled announcement was any indication, the only train currently leaving was: “Train number *ksssh*, departing platform *ksssh* bound for *kssh*mington and Washington D.C.”

Washington was in the wrong direction - Celestia knew that much, as she trotted through the passenger areas, her gold shoes clicking loudly on the marble.

Back and forth she went, through the concourse, looking for a train. The massive rolling signboard told her that trains were departing for cities she hadn’t heard of - Trenton, Atlantic City, Boston, and Harrisburg - but none for New York City.

Eventually, after much more pacing, an announcement was made - “Tra*kssssssssh*, now departing plat*kssssh* for *kssssssh* and New York City.

She was standing on the furthest platform from the entrance. She could only see one train, sitting two tracks away. It was here!

Looking to make sure no other trains were coming, and careful of the strange wires strung above the tracks, she glided across two platforms to the train, not wanting to risk missing it by taking the stairs up and over.

It was a motley collection of cars, nothing like the colorful trains in Equestria. Here the cars were silver with red and blue stripes, but different shades - some were bare metal, some painted to match. They didn’t look like they all belonged to the same train either - the Friendship Express’s coaches all had the same visual identity to make finding the train easier in crowded stations, but this train had cars of all different shapes - some square and boxy, and some tubular with fluted steel. The engine, far off at the front of the train, was curvy and aerodynamic, but painted a depressing allover black, its paint clearly applied haphazardly and without much care at all.

More importantly to Celestia, the train was also empty. This didn’t mean that the train had only a few people on it, but that the train was void of people entirely. The lights in the carriages were off, and the engine silent - with not even a wisp of smoke coming out of it. Isn’t this the train to New York? She thought to herself as she trotted up towards the locomotive, intent on finding a conductor or somehuman who could help her.

Moving forwards along the train, she heard a voice, but didn’t see the speaker.

“Alright Joey, it’s loose. You’re good to go!”

A loud horn sounded from the opposite end of the platform, and Celestia jumped as the coaches shuddered, before they slowly rolled away without her. Her confusion grew as she noticed that the coaches also seemed to be rolling away without the locomotive, before she looked down to the far end of the platform, and was just able to make out a much smaller locomotive laboriously hauling the heavy train away.

Oh. She realized. It’s being put away. But if this isn’t the train to New York, where is it?

Then she saw it. As the train cars were pulled away, she could very clearly see that on the opposite end of the station - far away from where she was, that a second train was waiting. It even looked right - a shiny and uniform silver, filled with people, with a conductor in a blue uniform stood by the door. And, as she stood and looked at it, the conductor blew his whistle, stepped on board, closed the door, and the train began to move.

Towards New York City.

Without her.

There was only one thing to do when one fell just short of their goal: Celestia slumped to the surface of the platform, a defeated and disappointed mare.

“Ma’am? Are you alright?”

Celestia blinked at the words. In front of her was another human, a bit older than most of the ones she’d met thus far. He was standing on the trackbed, which meant that he was at eye level with her on the platform.

“Hmm?” She didn’t feel like talking. I was so close!

“I said, are you okay?” He asked again, concern in his eyes.

“In a manner of speaking.” She murmured, slowly returning to a standing position, but keeping her gaze in line with his. “I just missed my train.” She pointed to where the last car of the New York train was rolling out of sight.

“That’s a shame,” He said. “But it happens. I take it you thought that this was the train you were looking for?”

“How’d you guess?”

“It happens from time to time, usually when someone really needs to be on a different train. Might I ask why a pretty, uh, lady like you needs the train at all?” He motioned to her wings. “I saw on the news that your lot could fly.”

She smiled at him - she liked this human. He wasn’t trying to put on airs for her, which made him better than most of the human diplomats she’d met. “I can fly, but I still need to know how to get somewhere.”

“And you’re lost in the big city without a map, is that about the size of it?” He said, putting a giant lantern on the platform edge.

“Yes, that’s about it.” She said.

“I figured.” He then placed a heavy looking metal lunch pail on the platform. “I was the same way, my first time in the City. I didn’t know where I was, how I got there, or -” He paused for dramatic effect. “How to get home. Now excuse me for just a moment.” He said, putting both hands on the platform edge to lever himself up.

Celestia watched for a moment, before she grabbed him in her magic and hoisted him up onto the platform. He blinked at the sudden change in elevation. “Mighty kind of you.” He said finally, collecting his lunch pail and lantern.

“Not a problem.”

“So, whereabouts are you trying to head without a map?” He asked, beginning to walk towards the locomotive, still sitting silently at the end of the platform. “New Haven? Boston? Newark?”

“New York City.” She replied, her shoes clip-clopping off the concrete platform. “I want a pizza.”

That made him stop. “That is a mighty looong way for some pizza, young lady.” He said, putting emphasis on the word ‘long’. “Especially at this time of night.”

“I’m trying to be spontaneous. And I am older than you.”

“Well, here’s some advice from a youngster then,” He said, sitting down at a bench opposite the locomotive. “If you want to be spontaneous - you’ve gotta do it before the last train leaves.”

Celestia’s heart sank. “That was the last train?”

“Yep - that was the 10:20 - the Betsy Ross - leaving exactly on time at five past 11:00.” He said slowly. “Of course, there would have been another one at 12:30, but naturally the damn Metroliner farted out - again - so they just stuck the broken one onto the rear of the 10:30 so it had more seats, held it back a bit, and called it a day.”

“Oh.” Said Celestia, again feeling defeated. “So there’s no way to get to New York City then?”

“Not unless you’re willing to walk - or fly, in your case.”

“Oh.” She sank down onto the platform surface again.

“Now now, there’s no need for hysterics. What’s so important about the pizza?” The railroader looked at the sad pony princess.

“It’s- It’s not the pizza,” She said, looking up at him from the platform. “It’s just that I needed to go out and do something, and now I’ve just squandered my opportunity.”

“That sounds like it’s gonna need some explaining.” He said, patting the seat of the bench next to him. “Why don’t you get up off that dirty platform and tell old Charlie exactly what’s the matter.”

And so she did, the entire story spilling out as she told the man - Charlie - about the trip, and her escape, and her decision to go out for pizza.

“So, if I’m understanding this correctly,” He said as Celestia’s story came to a close. “The pizza itself isn’t as important - but it's a way for you to gain a bit of control over your whole situation, right?”

“Yes!” She nodded, not expecting anypony to understand - but then again, he isn’t a pony, she thought.

“Thought so. My daughter was the same way when she was young. She planned everything out to a tee, and if something went wrong she’d go to pieces.”

“I have somepony like that back home.” Celestia imagined that Charlie’s daughter would get along quite well with Twilight. “Does she like books?”

“Does she ever! The girl practically lived in the public library until she went to college. Wild dogs couldn’t drag her away.” Charlie laughed, before continuing. “But, as I was saying - it’s not that she was upset over the thing going wrong, but she was upset over not being in control anymore. And I think that’s what is going on up in your noggin right now.”

“So what do you think I should do about it?” Celestia looked up at the man. She suddenly understood how Twilight must feel some days. That particular horseshoe felt very wrong on the other hoof.

“Well, I always say to my wife that I’m gonna let that girl figure it out for herself, that she’s a big girl and can take care of her own problems.” He looked up at the ceiling, trying to compose his expression. “And then I look at the blasted girl, who is going to pieces over some small amount of nothin’, and then I have to help her fix it, ‘cause she’s my daughter and I can’t do any different.”

“Huh?” Celestia was now confused. Did that mean he could help her? How could he help her? They weren’t even in the same city as the pizza.

Charlie picked up something - it was a box that had been strapped to his hip the entire time. He extended a part of it, before twisting a knob at the top.

It’s a radio, Celestia realized. She’d seen humans use these before.

“Hey dispatch, come in.” Charlie spoke into the box.

A few moments later, a tinny and distorted voice responded. “What’s up Charlie?”

“Has my brakeman showed up yet, or am I supposed to push this thing to Sunnyside?”

“He’s not there?!”

“No he is not. I have been sitting on 5 for almost twenty minutes, waiting for him to show up. If I knew he was gonna be this late I’d’ve told Joey to leave the coaches where they were and just run the last Clocker.” Charlie looked disgusted - clearly someone was not doing their job properly.

“Uh… Lemme get back to you on that - the extra board’s looking real slim tonight. You might be pushing after all.”

“Not with my back I won’t. Tell you what - just line me up for the main and I’ll go up there by myself.”

This gave the voice on the other end some pause. “You sure? It’s your ass if you get caught.”

“If there is an inspector at two in the goddamn morning I will hand myself over to him on a silver platter.” Charlie gathered his things and stood up, motioning for Celestia to follow.

“All right. You’re gonna have a green all the way to Trenton.” The voice warbled. “If you can pass 186 at Metropark or Princeton you’ll be good all the way to Sunnyside - otherwise you’ll be stuck behind him going into Newark Penn. You’ll have a signal in a few.”

“Roger that. Call me when it's ready.” Charlie stowed the radio and turned to Celestia. “Well Miss, I think I have a solution to your problem.”

“What?” Celestia furrowed her brows in confusion.

Charlie smiled and motioned to the locomotive behind him. “Just because the last scheduled service has left don’t mean that there aren’t any trains going your way.” He chuckled at Celestia’s visible confusion. “ I have been sitting here with you because I have been waiting on my very tardy brakeman - he and I have got to bring this old beast back to Sunnyside Yard - in Queens.”

“I don’t follow.”

Charlie’s eyebrows disappeared underneath his striped hat. “You’re some kinda Royalty aren’t ya? And nobody told ya that one of the boroughs is named Queens?”

“I’m actually a Princess. Equestria hasn’t had a Queen in -” Wait. Isn’t New York City made of boroughs?! Celestia’s eyes shot open as she realized exactly what Charlie was saying. “You can take me to New York?!”

“Now she gets it!” crowed the man as he clambered up the ladder to the locomotive’s cab. “Get in!”

Celestia did not need any further encouragement. With a strong flap of her wings, she leapt from the platform, following the human into the locomotive.

All Aboard!

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The locomotive’s cab was simultaneously very large, but also very cramped. It was a physically large space, but almost every available inch of it was taken up with a chaotic warren of pipes, dials, levers, cabinets, and fixtures. All of these seemed to center around the two seats in the cab, one on each side. It was purposeful chaos, Celestia observed, as she settled into a space between the unoccupied left seat and a stand covered in levers and dials. This was clearly not a space meant for ponies, but she wasn’t really in a position to be picky.

She also didn’t care. New York City here I come!

“You keep on shaking your tail like that and it’s bound to come off,” Charlie wryly observed from the other side of the cab.

“I’m sorry,” Celestia said, more out of habit than anything else - she certainly didn’t mean it. “But I’m quite excited.”

“S’not a problem - just reminds me of my Daschund. I say the same thing to him and he don't listen either.”

Celestia snorted, but kept her eyes out the front window. She could see a signal light in the distance, and while she didn’t know much about trains, she knew enough to know that they could go when it turned green.

“You ever been in one of these before?” Charlie inquired from across the cab.

“Many years ago - when they were first invented.” Celestia remembered that day well - one of the locomotives had belched smoke all over the royal party and coated them in soot. It was the most fun she’d had in ages.

“Well I imagine that this is a mite different from what you’re used to, so just to make things clear - don’t touch anything unless I say you can. We don’t need you hitting the emergency brake while we’re at speed.” Charlie’s tone was serious - he knew his job well. “Also, I see you flapping those wings of yours - just be careful with where you put ‘em. There’s enough electricity running through this thing to cook your goose in a flash. Don’t go poking at anything that says ‘High Voltage’ on it.”

Celestia nodded gravely. She might be immortal, but if human electricity was anything like the lighting back in Equestria, it would hurt and then keep hurting for a good time thereafter.

Charlie’s face then softened. “But other than that, just stay there and enjoy your ride - provided we don’t get caught up against the train ahead of us, we should be cruising into Sunnyside in just about 2 hours time. If we do, it’ll be a bit closer to 3, but I think we can make up the time.”

“You sound so certain - is this a fast locomotive?” The engine looked like it was designed for speed, but it was so large that Celestia couldn’t know.

“One of the fastest. We got almost 9,000 horsepower here, and no train to weigh us down. If this had wings we’d probably beat the Pan Am Shuttle!” Charlie patted one of the levers proudly. “I’ve been driving these since ‘49, and let me tell you - there is not a better engine on any railroad anywhere.”

Celestia, only vaguely aware of human measurement standards, was still very impressed. The locomotive was apparently so large because it had very powerful motors. If it ran off of electricity instead of steam, then it must use an enormous amount of power.

As she thought this, Charlie began going through the steps required to turn the engine on. Celestia jumped as the locomotive suddenly came to life with a roar of fans and creaking metal. A low buzzing sound came from above the cab roof, and several clicks and pops emanated from the dials and indicators.

It was like the engine had come alive under Celestia’s hooves. What had previously been an inanimate lump of metal was now a living machine, brought to life by Charlie.

She turned to Charlie, and saw him grinning back at her. “She’s quite a machine, isn’t she?”

“She?”

“Absolutely. You work with these long enough to realize that each one’s got a personality all their own. Some are more laid back, some are a bit high-strung and finicky, and some -” He reached outside and patted the side of the locomotive. “Are just eager, like a greyhound waiting for the gate to open. She knows that we got a special job tonight, and I reckon that she’s just as eager to get to Sunnyside as you are.”

Celestia looked down at the metal plating beneath her hooves, feeling the mechanical vibrations, and wondered whether Charlie was being facetious, or if humans knew something about magic that she didn’t. “Well, I guess I’ll have to save a slice of pizza for her then!” She said finally, raising her voice to be heard over the chorus of mechanical noises that were filling the cab.

“I reckon that she’d be pleased by that!” Charlie called back.

At that moment, another mechanical whirring sound filled the air for a moment, before everything settled down into a low hum.

Celestia got the distinct feeling that the engine agreed with that assessment.

“Hey Charlie? You’re good to go!” Squawked the radio just as the signal, which had been showing three lights arranged horizontally, now changed to show three lights in a vertical arrangement.

“Roger that” Replied Charlie as he advanced the lever. The big engine barely shuddered as the quiet hum slowly grew into a loud whirring noise. Celestia looked out the window to see the platform bench receding into the distance. The engine was on the move.

In what seemed like no time at all, the locomotive had cleared the station, rolling over the spiderweb of tracks and overhead cables at the station throat. Celestia stared out the side window, astounded at the scale of the human’s transportation infrastructure. Canterlot’s station was a small backwater halt compared to this. They rolled by a long line of engines - some were like the one she was riding aboard - black and aerodynamic, but others were different - square and silver, like the coaches parked on tracks behind them.

“What are those?” She asked, pointing to them. “Are they different kinds of engine?”

“Yes ma’am.” Charlie said, taking a brief glance outside. “Those silver ones are the E60s - they were supposed to be the new and modern thing - to replace these old beasts, but they’re just as bad as the Metroliners.”

“Why is that?”

“They don’t work! I don’t have anything against modernity, but these new trains they’ve been bringing out just don’t do the job as well as an old G like this - always breaking down or speed restricted or something.” It was clear that Charlie had strong opinions on these new trains.

“G?”

“It stands for GG1 - that’s the type of engine this is.” Charlie said as he guided the engine through the edge of the yard and onto the main line. “They built ‘em back in the thirties - almost a hundred fifty of ‘em. They’ve been going up and down The Corridor ever since.” He paused to tap at a gauge. “Been through three railways now, well into their 50s - which is old for an engine, let me tell you.”

Celestia tilted her head in confusion. “Why would the railway try to replace a proven and working locomotive? Surely age doesn’t matter for a machine.”

“These engines are like me - they aren’t spring chickens anymore.” Charlie said simply. “Newer stuff works better ‘cause they haven’t been out on the rails for half a century. Well, provided that they’re built properly - which the ‘60s aren’t. Right now the G’s are just getting a stay of execution until the new engines come in from EMD. One of them’s over there now actually.”

Charlie pointed to the very edge of the yard, where a much smaller engine was visible. It was wrapped in a tarp, but from what Celestia could see, it looked like a much smaller version of the E60s she’d asked about. Even from this quick look, she could tell that both of those engines seemed much more… lifeless than the GG1s sitting next to them. Even sitting still, the GG1 seemed almost organic with its curved metal and flowing lines. By comparison, the newer engines looked like a brick that had been enchanted to fly - very square, with little regard given to aerodynamics.

“I see. And then what will happen to these?” She said cautiously, not liking the answer she was imagining.

“I dunno. Probably a few’ll go to Jersey Transit - they got a few already from Conrail, 'cause they're gonna axe the rest of their electrics sooner or later. Few museums maybe. The rest’ll get turned into razorblades I guess.” Charlie said with remarkable nonchalance. “It’s what happens, unfortunate as it may be.”

“I thought as much.” Celestia said, more than a little sad. She’d only been with this engine for a few minutes, and she was already growing attached to it. “What will you do?”

“Retire, honestly. I’ve given thirty years to this line - first the Pennsy, then the Central, and now I’m Amtrak’s problem. Driving G’s the whole time - I’m not interested in doing anything else.” Charlie looked wistful. “I might move to Florida like my wife’s been wanting to - she leaves real estate listings from Tampa and Boca Raton where she thinks I’ll see ‘em - but I’ve always wanted to go out and travel. Who knows? Maybe I can score myself a tourist visa and come visit Ponyland.”

“Equestria.”

“What?”

“My land is Equestria. Ponies live there.”

“My mistake.”

“No problem.” Celestia smiled to herself. Charlie would definitely be on the fast-track - pun very much intended - for a tourist visa once the diplomatic affairs were settled.

Underneath her hooves, Celestia could feel the locomotive as it rocked gently over track switches and glided around curves. From the lack of noise it was making, it was clearly not under any strain. Celestia would have almost called the pace ‘slow’, if they weren’t already going faster than any train in Equestria could as they rolled over the vast river that ran through Philadelphia.

“This is quite fast,” she remarked to Charlie, who was so unphased by the speed that he had pulled an official-looking sheet of paper from his pocket and was idly filling it out.

“This?” he said, glancing up from the paper to note a passing signal. “We’re only doing about 50 right now. Wait until we go through the curve at Frankford - after that we can really stretch our legs.”

Celestia blinked. “It can go faster?” She muttered under her breath as she stared out the window. The trackside buildings were already starting to blur together - how much faster could they go?

Beneath her hooves, the GG1 rumbled almost impatiently - it seemed to know that Charlie was holding it back, and wanted to run free.

Charlie however kept a firm hand on the throttle as the train sailed down the line. Celestia watched as houses and a station blurred past her window, the name just visible in the platform lights - North Philadelphia.

“See that?” Said Charlie. “Last stop before Frankford.”

The GG1 shuddered in what must have been excitement. There was a station first - and then the curve - and then they were free to go faster.

Looking forward through her window, Celestia could see the light of a distant oncoming train slowly appear, the lights on the coaches visible as they rounded the upcoming curve.

The curve drew closer and closer, and the locomotive seemed to grow more and more excitable with each passing moment. They flashed through the dim lighting of Frankford Junction station, the curve now moments away. The oncoming train, headed by another GG1, passed by with a honk and roar just a few hooves from Celestia’s window, and when it passed the curve was visible, looming up out of the locomotive’s headlamp. The engine was almost vibrating with excitement as it leaned into the curve - so much so that Charlie grumbled something about bad track as the GG1 screeched through the corner. Celestia was impressed that the humans had managed to create a curve big enough to allow a train to pass at speed - the Equestrian railway network could take many lessons from the humans.

After what seemed like an age, but was actually only a few moments, the locomotive was out of the curve. The GG1 was practically shaking with a poorly repressed desire for speed, reminding Celestia of a certain blue pegasus back home. Looking over at Charlie, who seemed to be in no hurry to advance the throttle despite his train’s protestations, Celestia began to realize that Charlie might not know exactly how ‘alive’ his machine was.

After almost a minute had passed without Charlie advancing the throttle, Celestia turned to him questioningly. “I thought you said we could go faster?” she said, ignoring the GG1’s increasingly desperate rumblings beneath her horseshoes.

“We will,” He said, the light of a passing signal streaming through the window. “But why don’t you come over here? I wanna show you something.”

Cocking her head in confusion, the Pony Princess made her way across the cramped cab. Charlie’s instrument panel was different from the one she had been sitting at. There were more levers, dials, gauges, and controls here - clearly this was the seat of power on the locomotive.

“See that?” He said, pointing to the steel pedestal with the throttle lever sticking out of it. “That’s the throttle. Push that forward and we go a lot faster. Pull it back and we slow down.” He motioned to a cord hanging down from the roof of the cab. “This is the horn - you use it to tell people to get out of the way, or to make a lot of noise just because you can.” He smiled conspiratorially at her. “Why don’t you give it a yank?”

“Really?” Celestia looked at him in astonishment.

“Yeah!” he said, eye twinkling. “But first let’s open up the window and hear it properly.”

For the second time that night, Celestia had wind rushing through her mane as Charlie slid open the cab’s side window, allowing the wind from the train’s passage into the cab.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, grabbing the cord with one wing - some things you just had to do physically - and yanked down on it.

The GG1’s horn blared through the night sky, a long deep note that bellowed from the locomotive like the call of a wild animal. Beneath her hooves, Celestia could feel the engine’s glee - it liked making noise and being heard just as much as it liked going fast. The parallels between this engine and Rainbow Dash grew with each passing minute.

After a long moment, Celestia silenced the horn, turning to Charlie expectantly. “We still aren’t going fast.” she said as the GG1 rumbled its agreement.

“Oh we will,” said Charlie mischievously. “But I think that you oughta do it.”

“What?”

“Well, I can do this whenever I want to, so it only seems fair that you get to do it on your first ever ride.” he said, motioning her hoof to the control pedestal. “Just grab this lever, and shove it as far forward as you can. You won’t break it, I promise.”

Doing as she was told, Celestia wrapped her hoof around the GG1’s throttle. The engine’s excitement became even more apparent the instant her hoof hit the controls. Whatever connection she’d had with the machine before was now greater. She could almost hear the engine urging her to push the throttle forwards. To take control, and let the locomotive truly run to its limit. The feeling was contagious, and a small part of her mind noted that Charlie must have no idea about the GG1’s true inner spirit, otherwise he would not be so calm in carrying out his duties.

With an excited smile plastered across her muzzle, Celestia took hold of the throttle and pushed it to its stops.

The GG1’s electric motors whirred in approval as the engine began to rapidly build in speed. The engine, now free of any constraints except the laws of physics, surged ahead.

Still at the controls, Celestia could feel the engine’s delight at being allowed to run free. The wind roared in through the cab window as cars on the nearby roadway receded into the distance - the engine passing them like they were standing still. Another GG1, this one leading a freight train, gave a short honk as it passed in the other direction. Celestia gave a long sustained blare in reply.

In the engineer’s seat behind the pony, Charlie watched in amusement as Tacony station came and went in just seconds. If she kept this up they might break the speed record into Sunnyside.

Actually, they might just break the speed limit on the main line altogether.

Interlude - Holmesburg Junction

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Holmesburg Junction was a depressing station to be at during the day. At night, it was downright miserable, with flies buzzing around the insufficient light given off by the station’s platform lighting, and traffic noise from the nearby road making the entire station feel rundown and miserable.

It was especially miserable when you were waiting on the last train into town.

Especially when you knew that you were going to get your ass chewed out when you got back.

Especially when the person - or rather, pony - who was going to do the ass-chewing was not only standing next to you, but had decided to get a head start on the ass-chewing.

“I thought you said you were from the Philadelphia field office!” Stamped Passport seethed as he paced up and down the platform, the cake box bobbing up and down with each step. “How could you not know where the bakery was?!”

“This is the one of the largest cities in America.” Special Agent Johnson, United States Secret Service, responded in what he hoped was an even tone. “I don't have the address of every cake shop memorized.”

“Well you should! I asked for only the best to help the Princess!”

“And you got the best. At protection. If you wanted a cake finder you should have asked the Health Department.”

“Maybe next time I will.”

“God I hope there isn’t a next time.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. At least we got the cake, right?” It had taken six hours, but they did it. Why the ponies even needed a cake was unclear - they wouldn’t allow any Earth foods to even come near their Princess - which kind of defeated the point of a cultural exchange tour in Johnson’s opinion.

“With no thanks to you!”

“I found the cake shop.”

“After you got us lost! And stranded!”

“I told you not to take your frustrations out on the car.”

“You didn’t say it was so fragile!”

“I didn’t think I needed to.”

“Well you should have! I am much stronger than you are!”

“You kicked a hole through sheet metal.”

“It was a sheet! Sheets are thin - hence the name! I couldn’t kick through slab metal, now could I?!”

“I’ll note it for the future.”

“If I have my way you won’t have a future with my government.”

“You have no idea how much that would delight me.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m not good company?!”

“I’m not suggesting it.”

“Why, you…!”

Stamped jumped into the air, wings beating furiously as he hovered, wide eyed, in front of the agent. Amazingly, his face began to turn a bright red despite his pale blue fur. “You have been nothing but trouble all day! I’ve had just about enough of you!” He bellowed while holding up his hooves in a boxing stance. “So come on! Let’s have at it you furless -!”

*POW*

He was cut off in mid-rant as Johnson punched him in the face. He staggered back in mid air, one hoof going to his muzzle, loopily trying to regain his balance and composure as blood streamed out of his nose. “YOU HIT ME!” He screeched nasally, fluttering well over the inside set of tracks as he did so.

“You asked me to.”

“YOU HIT ME!” He said again, rearing up in midair to make his point known, in the process causing the cake box to slide off of his back and plop onto the railroad tracks below him. “YOU DARE TO HIT A MEMBER OF THE CROWN TRAVEL OFFICE?!”

“You asked me to.” Johnson repeated calmly as he noticed the cake box - now lying atop the running rails of the fast line.

“I WILL HAVE YOUR BADGE FOR THIS!” Bellowed Stamped, who hadn’t realized the cake box was gone. “THERE WILL BE-”

He stopped as a train horn blared through the empty night. As much as he despised the human world right now, he had seen enough of the steel monsters they called trains to know that being in the air as one went by would not end well for him. “We’ll continue this in a moment.” He said to Johnson as he settled down to the platform and waited for the train to go by, his anger on temporary hold.

Johnson merely rolled his eyes at the Pegasus’ histrionics. Ponies had the emotional capacity of a light switch - either they were on full blast or they were off entirely.

The train horn sounded again, much longer and much louder this time. The train was getting closer and was clearly hauling serious ass. Johnson wondered if Stamped would notice the cake box, and subtly moved himself in front of the pegasus in case he did.

A headlight appeared in the middle distance, throwing just enough light onto the tracks to illuminate the white cardboard of the cake box. Stamped gasped in horror as he realized what was about to happen. He spread his wings, jumped into the air -

And was immediately thrown to the ground by Agent Johnson, who grabbed him around the pits of his forelegs and body slammed him - muzzle first - onto the relative safety of the platform.

And with not a second to spare either, as the train - a black engine running by itself - roared out of the inky blackness of the night with its horn blaring, passed through the bubble of illumination given off by the station’s meager platform lights at speeds that would have shocked a racecar driver, before vanishing back into the night as quickly as it had arrived.

The poor cake box never stood a chance. The train vaporized it, sending scraps of cardboard and tiny flecks of cake in every direction. Johnson took a piece of sponge cake directly to the forehead, and Stamped was peppered with tiny bits of pink frosting.

Both man and stallion took a moment to collect themselves after that. Johnson brushed himself off and thanked his lucky stars that his moron-detecting sixth sense worked on interdimensional alien horses, while Stamped just stared, wide eyed, at where the cake had been, totally ignoring the blood streaming from his face where Johnson had first punched him, and then slammed him to the ground.

After taking a long moment to collect himself, He turned to Johnson.“Da caek shop wath closthed. And I walked into a sthign posht. Understhand?”

“Whatever you say.”

Into New Jersey

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With Celestia at the controls, the GG1 continued its excited charge north. From his window, Charlie watched as the stations at Torresdale and Eddington came and went in quick blurs - his ‘passenger’ was not soft on the throttle or the horn, and he had no doubt that the poor souls waiting on the last trains of the day had the life scared out of them as the G roared by at speed.

Cars on the Delaware Expressway streaked by like they were standing still - the grizzled old engineman estimated that they were probably doing close to double the speed limit of the highway. (And were probably approaching the speed limit on the rails too.) One car, its driver seemingly more interested in speed than safety, did try to keep up - its growling engine just audible over the wind, the horn, and Celestia’s excited laughter. He himself let loose a little chuckle when red and blue lights erupted behind the sporty car. The driver, his car just barely keeping pace with the GG1, looked up to Charlie, waved at him in a gracious ‘well what can you do?’ kind of way, and slowed down to take his ticket. Charlie took the horn pull from Celestia and gave the receding Trans Am a final victorious blast as the track peeled off from the highway towards Neshaminy Creek.

Next came Croydon station, and the last northbound train of the day was boarding on the outside line. It was a train of dilapidated old MP54s that didn’t look like they deserved their fresh-looking white and red paint. SEPTA engineers were always a bit of a pain in the rear on the best of days, and Charlie distinctly remembered a foul-mouthed driver complaining about pulling the midnight shift earlier in the afternoon. An evil idea popped into his head and his hand snuck to the horn pull, only to find Celestia’s hoof reaching for it as well. She stole a brief glance back at him, the manic sparkle in her eyes telling him that they were on the exact same wavelength.

It was a long train for such a late hour - 7 cars - and Charlie waited until they were abreast of the fourth car before he wrenched down on the pull cord with all his strength. It took a few seconds for the horn to begin sounding, and at the speed they were going at, it meant that the GG1 was essentially abreast of the motorman’s cabin when the horn sounded at full volume.

With the engineer’s attention directed towards his own train, and the sound of the GG1’s approach masked by other noises, the unfortunate SEPTA motorman didn’t know that anything was there until the GG1 thundered by, horn blaring just inches from his ear. Charlie couldn’t see what had happened, but he imagined that the guy had just about jumped out of his skin.

“Hey you asshole! Maybe give a guy a bit of warning next time? I like drinking my coffee! Not wearing it!” The engineer of the commuter train shouted into the radio as the GG1 vanished into the night.

Charlie didn’t dignify that with a response, as he was too busy howling in laughter.

Celestia, who was laughing so hard that she was crying, managed to reach up for the horn cord, giving the GG1 a chance to express its own raucous laughter as they roared past a diesel-powered freight going in the opposite direction. The diesel’s confused sounding honk? as it passed the laughing GG1 made Celestia almost fall over

They had just begun to calm down as they thundered through Bristol station, once again scaring the living daylights out of passengers waiting for the last SEPTA trains.

Still at the controls, Celestia could feel the GG1’s nervous energy begin to fade as it settled into the high-speed cruise. The engine, no longer bursting with unspent energy, began to calm down, relaxing into what felt like a steady but very fast gallop.

Looking outside the window, Celestia could tell that this was probably the fastest she had ever gone in her very long life, but she could also tell that the GG1 wasn’t even trying. “How fast are we going?” She asked Charlie, bringing her hoof off of the throttle, ready to hand control back to the engine’s real driver.

Peering over at the speed indicator and the ammeter, Charlie’s eyebrows rose slightly. The speedometer was pegged at the far stop, but the ammeter needle had barely moved a quarter of the way up the indicator. He hadn’t expected to get that much performance out of his engine tonight. Clearly the pony princess had the magic touch. “The speedo stops at a hundred, and it’s pegged. I’d say somewhere around one-ten, maybe one-fifteen.” He said, pointing out the appropriate dials to his passenger.

“I’ve never been this fast in my life. And she doesn’t even feel like she’s trying.” Celestia said with no small amount of wonder. If this is what old human technology could do, she had high hopes for what the future could bring.

“It’s a wonderful machine.” Charlie put his hand on the throttle lever, taking control once more. “And it’ll do this under any condition too - 15 car commuter or by itself. It just does the job.”

Even without holding the throttle, Celestia could feel the locomotive’s pride at those words. She patted the cab floor affectionately with one hoof before returning to her seat on the other side of the cab. Now that the engine had calmed down, Celestia was no longer riding the wave of second-hoof adrenaline, and could take in the sights and sensations of a high-speed train ride through an alien world. Sliding her side window open in her magic, she poked her head out - careful to check first for oncoming train traffic - and enjoyed the hundred mile an hour wind rushing through her mane. It honestly felt like flying, and she didn’t even have to leave the ground.

Below her hooves, the GG1 hummed contentedly. Its passenger was happy, its driver was happy, and it was going as fast as it could. What more could an engine want?

The train continued northwards, blowing past Levittown, the last SEPTA station before the New Jersey border, and streaked along the side of a large lake that ran alongside the tracks. Celestia could feel the locomotive groan in disappointment as Charlie eased off the throttle, bringing the train down to a slower pace as they neared a large bridge leading into a big city.

“Is that New York?” she asked, looking out over the GG1’s nose at the twinkling lights.

“Nope. That’s Trenton. I gotta slow us down here to at least the speed of sound,” Charlie called sarcastically from his side of the cab. “Otherwise we’re gonna come off in the station turnouts.”

“Trenton?” Celestia wondered. “Where is that?”

“New Jersey!” Charlie said as they rumbled across a large steel bridge. “The river’s the state line! Right here actually - we’re still about forty minutes or so from Sunnyside.”

Celestia sat there for a moment, absolutely stunned. She knew, on an intellectual level, how big the human world was. She had been living in it for two weeks now - she had seen it firsthoof, but it still boggled her mind that there could be so much of it. This journey would take almost two hours, and she hadn’t yet left the city. Except that she had - but each city merely blended into the next like one continuous strip of metal, concrete, and humans. Equestria had nothing like it.

“Hey lookit!” Charlie exclaimed, breaking Celestia out of her reverie. “You made good time there, your highness!”

Celestia followed his pointing finger and saw that the train she had meant to board in Philadelphia was just now pulling into Trenton station. Charlie gave a short blast of the horn as they rolled past the shining silver train, waving over the top of the low slung coaches to the passengers and station crew. The driver of the train, clearly having heard Charlie’s prank on the SEPTA driver over the radio, extended his arm out the cab window in a rude gesture that only brought laughs from inside the GG1’s cab.

“That train didn’t have a locomotive.” Celestia observed as they rolled past the front of the train.

“That’s one of the new Metroliners.” Charlie explained. “They’re multiple units - there’s motors built into the floor of each coach instead of there being a dedicated engine. It’s supposed to be faster and more comfortable than anything else Amtrak’s got.”

“Are they?”

“They are when they work.” Charlie said flatly as the GG1 exited the station tracks. He notched the throttle into a higher setting, causing the GG1 to speed up gleefully. “Which is almost never. I’m surprised that one made it this far but I guess a broken clock is right at least once a day.”

“Twice.”

“What?”

“A broken clock is right twice a day.”

Charlie grinned. “Y’know, I said that to my drill sergeant on my first day at Annapolis - you know what he told me?”

“What?”

“That I was in the Navy now, and they use 24 hour clocks!” He laughed at Celestia’s puzzled expression.

After that, the cab fell into a comfortable silence. Charlie had pushed the throttle forwards again, and the GG1 was now whirring happily at a hundred miles an hour while Celestia watched the lightly populated north Trenton suburbs pass by.

“Amtrak 4902 Extra, dispatch.” The warbling voice emerging from the locomotive’s radio eventually broke the silence.

“4902”

“4902 can you confirm your position right now? The board’s acting up over here. Did you receive instructions to meet 186 at Princeton Junction?”

“I did,” Charlie replied. “But we already passed them at Trenton. I’m currently passing by milepost 173.”

“Jesus!” The businesslike tone of the dispatcher faded for one of shock. “What did you do? Go two hundred for a while?”

“I couldn’t begin to say.” Said Charlie with remarkable nonchalance considering the shit-eating grin threatening to split his face in two. “Maybe 186 was slow.”

“Sure thing Charlie.” Retorted the dispatcher disbelievingly. “Just don’t go joining Pan Am on company time, okay? Hey Roy! Cancel that repair order - Charlie’s just fucking insane and managed to pass 186 at Trenton somehow!”

“Roger that.” Charlie said, hanging up the radio. He turned to Celestia. “You really have a way with locomotives, Missy. If this Royalty business doesn’t work out for you, I think there might be an opening out here on the Corridor.”

“Thank you,” Celestia giggled at the mental image of herself dressed like a locomotive engineer. “But I think I’ll stick to government work.”

“So you’ll fit right in! Amtrak’s a government agency just like the post office.”

Celestia snorted. “I guess I’ll have to consider it.”

“I knew you’d come around,” Charlie smirked as they raced through Princeton Junction and headed deeper into New Jersey.

Meanwhile in Philadelphia...

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“Stho, what exacthly isth de prhoblem here?” Stamped Passport growled around the ice pack he was holding to his nose.

Tempered Steel shifted on her hooves nervously. The palace travel director had delusions of power on the best of days, and she really didn’t want to sit through a grandiose lecture about ‘being the best of the best’ while the pony delivering it was literally ‘bloody mad’. “There is an… issue with the Princess’ room.” She held up a hoof to forestall Stamped’s ire. “We just discovered this. You are being ‘informed immediately’ as per your request.”

Behind him, Agent Johnson rolled his eyes. The day he rolled over like that for the agency travel coordinator was the day he turned in his badge and went to work as a school crossing guard.

“Whath the isthue?” Stamped demanded. “Isth tshe uncomforthable? Isth tshe unwell? Out with it!”

Tempered decided to just get it over with. “She’s missing.” She said, aware that all eyes in the room were now on her. “The night shift guards went into her room ten minutes ago to check on her and she wasn’t there. They found the bathroom window open - we think she flew out. There wasn’t any sign of coercion.”

“FLEW OUT?! FLEW OUT?!” Stamped raged from behind his ice pack. “DHOSE WHINDOWSH WEHRE SHUPPOSED TO BE BULLETPROOF! HOW COULTH TSHE EVEN GET OUT?!”

“It appears that we missed one. She opened it normally.” Tempered was glad her fur was so brilliantly red - it meant that nopony could tell when she was red-faced in embarrassment. This was a simple oversight and she was supposed to be better than this.

“WHAT? YUO MISSTHED ONE? YUO MISSTHED ONE?!” Stamped had a very annoying habit of repeating himself when he was upset. Considering how often he was upset, this got very annoying very quickly. “I’LL TSHOW YUO WHAT IT’SH LIKE TO MISTH ONE!”

“No,” Said Agent Johnson, who had abruptly discovered the end of his patience. “You won’t. Just sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and let the professionals do their jobs.”

Considering that Johnson had already bodily attacked him twice in the past two hours, Stamped just sat the fuck down, shut the fuck up, and let the professionals do their job. Johnson quickly herded the travel coordinator into a side room before addressing Tempered directly while dialing the in-room phone.

“Do we have any leads?”

“How did you do that?” Tempered said instinctively, her shock at seeing the pugnacious travel coordinator so effectively silenced overriding her training for a moment. She winced internally, realizing that this was a serious situation and answered Johnson's question. “Uh, We’re working on it. She requested to be left alone around 8:30 - that’s the last time anypony saw her.”

“Good to know.” He addressed the phone. “This is Johnson. Swan has flown the Nest. This is not a drill. Last reported around 8:30 - no coercion believed.” He listened for a moment. “The bathroom wasn’t secured. She literally flew out of the window. I see. Call me the instant you have any leads. We’re setting up operations in room 20-405.” He hung up, turning back to Tempered. “I broke his nose.”

“What?”

“Stamped. I busted his nose. Twice.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Where are your people?”

Tempered blinked. Now was the time for action, not mindless questioning. “Examining the room. Nothing seems to be out of place except the window.”

“Good. Do we know where she might have gone?”

“I couldn’t speculate. Her Majesty doesn’t really do things like this.”

“Well, every law enforcement officer in Philadelphia is on the case now.”

“You have my thanks, even if I wish it wasn’t necessary.”

“Just doing my job.”

The two made for the hallway. They had a rescue to plan.

“Can I geht up now?” Stamped asked from the next room.

Johnson had been expecting a lot of things to have happened to Equestria’s leader while she was in the United States. Kidnapping, by foreign agents or by domestic nutjobs who wanted a ransom; maybe a murder attempt by some crazed cult lunatic; or perhaps a ritual sacrifice by some lone whackjob who wanted to bring about the end of days. The FBI had even provided a list of local organized crime figures to watch out for, in case one of the Five Families had decided to make a play for the interdimensional crime market.

What he really hadn’t expected was a phone call from Amtrak, saying that Princess Celestia had been seen wandering around 30th Street Station, alone and apparently unharmed, asking about catching a train to New York.

While he waited for someone from the railway to call him back with a list of trains that had departed within the right time frame to have the wayward Princess aboard, he checked in with the Equestrian brain trust.

“We have no idea why she would be going to New York City.” Tempered Steel reported back to him from the doorway to the Equestrian delegations’ hastily established command suite - which had previously been Per Diem’s hotel room. “She barely left when she was there. I doubt there’s anything she could want to do there.”

“Maybe she wants to negotiate more deals with the United Nations!” Per Diem suggested from inside the room.

“Thaths sthupid, Per. Why whould sthe whant to gho back? Sthe did evehrythring alhready.”

“I don’t know Stampy! Why does her majesty wish to travel at all? All of her needs are provided for at the castle. She doesn’t need to go anywhere.”

“Will you two keep it down!” Tempered barked into the room. She hated diplomats only slightly less than unknown situations and now she was forced to deal with both.

Johnson blinked slowly. He suddenly had a very good idea of why Princess Celestia may have flown the coop, even if he still didn't know where she had flown to.

“Get your team together. We’re going to the station to interview staff in 5 minutes. Muster point is the basement garage.” He said to Tempered, who was pointedly ignoring the growing argument from inside the room.

“Tsho my job doeshn’t matter?!”

“You couldn’t even get a Goddess-be-damned Cake!”

“I’ll accompany you.” Tempered slammed the door to the suite behind him with her magic, cutting off the sounds of stupid before she could get drawn in. “Dagger! Halberd! With me!” She called down the hallway.

Two large guard stallions, one a light pink Unicorn and the other a green Pegasus, fell into step behind their leader as Tempered followed Johnson to the elevator.

25 minutes later

“I do not get paid enough for this.” Johnson groused as he looked over the dispatch logs from Amtrak, Conrail, New Jersey Transit, and SEPTA.

Beside him, Tempered had to agree - dealing with trains was always a pain back in Equestria, but at least there was only one line into and out of Canterlot. Spread out in front of them were timetables and records from four different railways, two omnibus companies, and the city transit agency.

“Do we have any way of narrowing these down?” The guardsmare asked as she stared at the mass of paper.

“This is every train that’s left since 8:30.” Johnson said, pointing to a long sheet of printer paper that was covered in highlighter and pen markings. “Philly PD always has a transit cop on the bus platforms and the taxi stand, and nobody saw her all night, so we’re focusing on the railway. Everything in yellow is a passenger train, the green is freight, and the orange is maintenance trains.”

There was so much yellow ink on the paper that it was actually damp. Tempered’s heart sank. She didn’t have enough ponies to stop and search every train. “What’s that one? She said, pointing to a listing near the bottom that was marked with a hand-drawn star.

“Light engine move.” Johnson squinted to read the paper more closely. “One engine, no cars - oh.” Realization hit him like a train running over a cake. “I know what that one is. Unless the Princess is in the habit of stealing trains, this one isn’t important.”

“Well.” Tempered sighed. “She isn’t, so that’s one down. Two hundred more to go... ”

“More than one, Boss!” Halberd announced as he charged into the room, a notebook held victoriously in a wing. “Station staff says that the Princess came in from the commuter platforms at around a quarter past ten.”

That was over half of the trains eliminated in one move. “Great work Corporal.” She praised. “Did you say that she came in from the commuter platforms?”

Halberd flipped through his notes. “Yes. They said she came in from the upper level - which is the commuter platforms - asked about trains to New York City, and was directed to the Amtrak lower level platforms. She went down there and didn’t come back. Dag’s looking down there now. We assume that she flew in from outside the station - the ends of the upper level platforms are natural landing sites.”

Tempered and Johnson’s gazes met as they both realized that their previously-impossible task was now much more manageable. There were only a handful of Amtrak trains that left after 10:15. “So, which train did she get on?”

Turning back to the timetable and the dispatch logs, there were only four Amtrak trains that left within that time frame - a southbound express, a southbound local, one northbound semi-fast, and the northbound light engine move. “I have no idea.” Johnson said after a long minute. “We don’t know if she managed to get on a train at all. Or which one.”

Halberd cocked his head in confusion. “Wouldn’t she get on the northbound train? There’s only one. She’s The Princess - I’m sure she’s capable of telling trains apart.”

Johnson merely got up and opened the door to their planning room. It was located just off of the main concourse, and the sounds of late night passengers running for their trains could be heard echoing throughout the large, airy space.

Then, over the noise of passengers, a station announcement cut through the air. “Attention passengers. Attention passengers. SEPTA train *kssssh* will now be arriving on platfo*ksssssssssh*. I say again - *ksssssssh* train thirty-*ksssssssh* now be arriving on platfor*ksssssh*”

Over Johnson’s shoulder, the ponies watched as the massive rotating flap display clattered into life to reflect the change -

changed to:

As if realizing its error, the board flipped through a variety of new and equally improbable trains and destinations before settling on:

“Albert Einstein could get on the wrong train here.” Johnson said finally, as the board settled into silence.

The ponies didn’t know who ‘Albert Einstein’ was, but understood the sentiment.

Newark

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In the end, the Secret Service decided to send teams to meet all three trains. Head office in Washington met the express at Union Station, where a thorough search revealed no Princess, but did find two people wanted on bench warrants in Maryland. Some people had none of the luck.

Another team was moving on the local train in Baltimore - it was still a few minutes out, but contact had already been made with the train crew, who reported no equine passengers of any sort.

That left the northbound train. Johnson didn’t necessarily trust the Newark field office, but considering that the Princess was not a danger to herself or others, it was unlikely that they could screw up such a simple task. (And if they did… well, Johnson had already spoken to Director Knight. Heads would roll.)

Then one of Tempered’s guards - the pink unicorn, Johnson couldn’t remember his name, Knife maybe? - had announced that he had been on the advance team, and had been to Newark Station.

This meant much more to the ponies than it did to Johnson.

So what if they’d been there before? Unless they could find their Princess using ESP (which wasn’t impossible, considering they could use magic), knowing what the station building looked like wasn’t going to-

Oh.

So nobody was gonna tell him that these magic horses could teleport like they’re on Star Trek?

Would he like to go to Newark with them?

What kind of a question is that? This is his operation! Of course he’d like to go to Newark with them! What else is going to do? Flap his arms and fly?

Pennsylvania Station - Newark, New Jersey

And then Johnson was standing in Newark.

“You really need to open with that next time.” He said to Tempered, who apparently wasn’t phased by the fact that she had traveled eighty seven miles in five seconds.

“It hadn’t been relevant.” She said, adjusting her helmet. “We’re just lucky that Dagger was on the advance team. Otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to.”

“Pure luck, nothing more. You need to have visited someplace before you can teleport to it.” Dagger chimed in.

Johnson blinked. Somehow the ponies had managed to make teleportation inconvenient. He was going to tell Tempered this, but was cut off as the head of the Newark field office came huffing and puffing into view.

“Hoooo-ha-A-a-Agent Johnson!” He was a deeply overweight man, who wasn’t helped by his incredibly short stature. How he passed his agency physical was a mystery, especially considering that he was clutching a can of Pepsi in his fat fingers, and had an Oh Henry! bar poking out of the breast pocket of his stained dress shirt. His suit jacket was nowhere in sight, and his agency badge dangled upside down from a chain around his neck like he was an undercover cop. “I -huff- wasn’t expecting you to be here! How-haa-How did you get here, so-whoah-so quickly?”

“I’m just that good. Where are your people?” Johnson already didn’t like this man.

“Platform 3. Amtrak is gonna hold the train for us.” The agent gasped, as he finally caught his breath. “I’m Special Agent Louis DeCiccio, by the way.” He held out a sweaty hand to Johnson, who ignored it just as DeCiccio had ignored Tempered and Dagger.

“Let’s move.” Johnson said as he made for the stairwells to track level, intentionally moving quickly to make the hefty agent work a bit more. This guy is not the best of the best, he thought to himself, annoyed that the rumors about the Newark office were not exaggerated.

Behind him, he could hear Tempered order Dagger to stay with DeCiccio, before falling into a quick trot as she moved to keep up, her steel shoes tapping loudly off the marble floor. He was honestly impressed with the little unicorn. Despite being in an exceptionally difficult situation and working with exceptionally difficult bureaucrats, she’d performed admirably in a situation that every protective service officer worked hard to prevent.

Also, considering that she was running around while wearing what looked to be about forty pounds of plate armor without being winded, she was clearly better trained than Agent DeCiccio, who hadn’t even attempted to keep up with the pair as they jogged down the stairs to platform 3. If he had been in a position to do so, he’d probably have tried to offer her a position in the Secret Service.

Reaching the platform, Johnson was almost professionally disgusted at DeCiccio’s agents, most of whom were just as overweight and underdressed as their boss. Almost subconsciously, he straightened his back and smoothed the wrinkles out of his suit coat, not wanting to even be visually associated with the half-dozen of Newark’s “finest” Secret Service agents, of whom only one was even remotely professional looking by the virtue of bothering to put on a tie.

Asking Tempered to join the agency was looking like a more and more realistic option if this is what he had to work with.

“Is this who’s going to help us find the Princess?” It seemed that Tempered was thinking on the same lines as Johnson.

“Hey,” gasped DeCiccio, finally making his way down the stairway. “This is who you get at two in the morning. Maybe next time we could have an emergency between nine and five?” He said in deliberate ignorance of the two very tired Amtrak Police officers in spotless dress uniforms glaring at him from across the platform. They had been forced into these monkey suits to meet a dignitary at Two In The Fucking Morning only to watch as the actual suits showed up in wrinkled jeans and bowling shirts, and would probably get all the credit too.

“Next time we have an emergency, we’ll be sure to call someone else,” snapped Tempered, who trotted past the Secret Service agents and up to the Amtrak Police. “First Commander Tempered Steel, Equestrian EUP Guards,” She motioned to Johnson behind her. “Senior Field Agent Aaron Johnson, United States Secret Service. What are we working with here?”

“Uh, Sergeant Glenn Robins, Amtrak Police,” blinked one of the Amtrak Officers, clearly not expecting to be addressed. “This is Police Officer Clyde Perkins.” He motioned to the other officer.

The sergeant continued: “The train’s coming in about 15 or so, got delayed a bit coming out of Princeton. We got the train crew on the horn - they’re doing a search, but nothing yet. The crew got swapped at Trenton, so they might have missed her if she got on before then.”

Tempered paused a moment to absorb the information. “How many Carriages?”

“Nine. First class is in the rear two.”

Tempered smiled as the Sergeant anticipated her next question. “Excellent. You and I will start there, Agent Johnson and Officer Perkins will start at the front. Keep all doors closed until we meet in the middle.”

“Hey wait a minute!” DeCiccio interrupted, motioning towards himself and his agents. “What about us! What are we supposed to do?”

Tempered’s eyes turned frosty. “You will wait on the platform and keep the crowds under control.”

Johnson looked around. The platform was empty.

“No! No! No!” DeCiccio insisted petulantly. “This is an Agency operation! I didn’t wake up at fuck o’clock in the middle of the night just to be crowd control while someone else rescues the broad! Have them do it!” He motioned dismissively at the Amtrak officers, ignoring how quickly Tempered and Dagger both went from “dismissive” to “violently upset” the instant he referred to Princess Celestia as ‘the broad’.

“These officers have some amount of decorum, something you clearly know nothing about. Only the best of the best get to be within sight of The Princess.” Tempered enunciated slowly and menacingly. “You are slovenly and disgusting and will go nowhere near her. Am. I. Understood?”

“Hey now…” DeCiccio said, still upset, but also aware that he’d just stuck his foot in something he shouldn’t have. “Let’s be reasonable! We can share this opera-URK!

He was cut off as Dagger, who had been standing behind him almost totally unnoticed, reached up with his magic and grabbed the Agent by his stained shirt collar, yanking him down to the unicorn’s eye level.

“The commander,” he ground out, his voice sounding like he was about ready to rip DeCiccio’s throat out with his teeth, “asked if you Understood.”

Johnson and the Amtrak officers watched with amused concern as the two pastel unicorns verbally intimidated DeCiccio. Johnson quietly wondered if DeCiccio’s agents were going to intervene, but from the whispering going on behind him, they were too busy betting on the severity of their boss’s impending ass-kicking to bother.

As such, everyone on the platform was looking in the entirely wrong direction as a black Amtrak GG1 rolled through the station a few tracks behind them…

New York, New York

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“That was Newark!” Charlie said triumphantly as they rolled over the biggest lift bridge Celestia had ever seen. “We’ve only got a few more miles to the city! And in record time might I add!”

Her head sticking out the window on the other side of the cab, Celestia let out a cheer. This was the most fun she’d had in centuries, and she wasn’t even at her destination yet!

Charlie laughed. “I think that’s the most thrilled anyone has ever been for Newark, coming or going!”

“I’m just so excited!” Celestia called out the window as they raced alongside another highway. The GG1 really was an eager greyhound of an engine, already urging Charlie to go faster. Of course, Charlie couldn’t feel the engine like Celestia could, so he kept the G to a steady speed as they rolled out of Newark, while Celestia felt like she was on a massive sugar rush as the engine’s excitement seeped through her hooves.

“I think she wants you to go faster!” she called back to Charlie.

Charlie glanced down at the control stand with some bemusement. He’d had a sinking suspicion that the magic pony princess might have some kind of connection with his locomotive - one he didn’t (or couldn’t) have. He’d driven 4902 many times before in his life, and while it had definitely been an eager engine before - always needing to be kept in check on fast express and mail runs - it had never been this… energetic before. Normally, he’d joke that the engine acted like a living being, like the old steam drivers said about their engines.

Now, he believed it. He’d seen more life out of this engine in the past two hours than he had in the last thirty years.

How did Asimov put it? Sometimes there was a ‘ghost in the machine’ - and apparently 4902 had more than a mere wisp of a spirit in it tonight.

Of course, now that he believed it, he had to deal with the fact that his engine was apparently a speed freak. “Does she now? Does she remember that there’s a speed restriction on Portal Bridge?” He asked bemusedly. Work crews had been shoring up the old swing bridge for most of the month, and his train orders had been very explicit in stating the maximum speed was 65.

“You’re no fun!” Came the shout from across the cab.

Charlie could practically hear the engine groan as he reduced speed to keep them underneath the restriction.

“Don’t you start.” He glared at the engine as if it could hear him. “You and I both knew this was here.” This was not a new restriction, and both man and engine had come through the bridge this afternoon.

As it turned out, the engine could hear him, and the ammeter clicked and popped petulantly as the G rumbled over the bridge in question.

“Don’t you get cute with me.” Charlie said, more surprised than anything. “You’re older than me - act like it!”

Across the cab, Celestia pulled her head into the cab to stare at him, her eyebrow raising.

“What?”

“Pot, meet Kettle. I believe all three of us saw that commuter train in Philadelphia.”

The GG1’s blower motors kicked on at that moment in a very accusatory manner, leaving Charlie feeling like he was definitely being outnumbered. “Why don’t you both put a sock in it.” He eventually said with no malice.

Celestia smirked in victory as the train rounded the next curve, revealing: “There’s a tunnel?”

“Oh yes. Once we’re through that we’re in New York! You’ll get your pizza soon enough!” Charlie announced as they rolled into the tunnel portal.

Now enveloped in the sudden darkness of the tunnel, Celestia blinked. She’d quite honestly forgotten the whole reason she’d boarded the GG1 back in Philadelphia. She wanted pizza - to soothe her deeper emotional turmoil under a layer of delicious cheese and a satisfying feeling of being in control of her own life for a few hours.

I should talk to somepony, shouldn’t I? She asked herself as the GG1’s headlight strobed over the tunnel walls.

Newark

“What do you mean she isn’t on the train!?”

“I mean that she isn’t there. She was not on board. We searched every carriage, and came up with no Princess. Logically, this means that unless she was able to turn invisible and intangible, Princess Celestia is not on board this train.”

“Well if she’s not on this train, then where the hell is she?”

“I wouldn’t know. That’s why we’re looking for her.”

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now? Start searching Chinatown buses?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Agent DeCiccio. I’m so glad you volunteered for that duty!”

“What?! Hell no! I already got the shit job already once-”

“You stood on a platform and did nothing.”

“-And now you’re gonna make me look through a bunch of buses full of Chinks? Who put you in command?”

“Considering that Princess Celestia is my charge, and my rank is the equivalent to a Lieutenant Colonel in your military, I would say that I am the one who put me in command. Now go find an omnibus and search it!”

New York’s Penn Station was an enormous complex of tracks, trains, and wires. Even at the late hour, there were trains bustling to and fro in seemingly every direction. Celestia was forced to keep her numerous questions about the complex to herself, as Charlie had picked up the radio receiver as they’d left the tunnel, and hadn’t been able to put it down since, a steady flow of directions from the dispatcher keeping him occupied as the engine clattered across numerous switches and cross tracks.

Celestia was certain that if she showed a photograph of this place to Round Wheel, her transport minister, he’d likely have a coronary on the spot. This was one of the most advanced pieces of railway infrastructure she’d ever seen, and if the GG1 was to be believed, it had once been even larger.

Humans are incredible, she thought to herself, not for the first time.

They slowly rolled past an empty train on another platform, Charlie sounding the locomotive’s bell in greeting to the train’s crew, who waved back from the cab of their own GG1.

Charlie finally hung up the radio as they swept past another signal, this one three lights in a diagonal pattern, and clattered across a few more undulating stitches, before the massive station vanished from sight as they rolled into yet another tunnel.

“I thought that was New York?” Celestia asked as they moved away from the station.

“That was Penn Station. We gotta go through the tunnel and then we’ll be at Sunnyside. That’s in Queens. Right now we’re in Manhattan.”

“All right.” Celestia paused for a moment. “Wait. Isn’t there a river between Manhattan and the other boroughs?”

“What do ya think we’re underneath?”

Celestia’s astonished silence lasted until the train burst through the other end of the tunnel in Queens.

Queens

Arriving in Queens was, if anything, a bit of an anticlimax. The train yard was massive, stretching off into the distance just as Penn Station had before it, but Charlie had been directed to park on one of the tracks closest to the tunnel entrance, meaning that Celestia wasn’t able to gawp like a schoolfilly at more human infrastructure.

Pulling the locomotive to a stop beside another GG1, this one in faded dark green with a gold stripe down its side and small letters that read “New Jersey Department of Transportation”, Charlie dropped the pantograph and tied down the brakes. Celestia felt the GG1 sigh in disappointment as the electricity left it; it wasn’t the same lump of lifeless metal that she’d boarded in Philadelphia, but it was close - now the engine felt like she did at the end of a long day in the palace - drained and tired.

She followed Charlie out of the cab and onto solid ground for the first time in two hours.

“Well your majesty, I said I would get you to New York City, and get you there I did.” Charlie said as he inspected the locomotive for mechanical problems. “Now, if you go about two blocks north from here, there’s gonna be a place that says “Carmello’s” on a big neon sign. It’s the only 24 hour pizza joint around - tell ‘em I sent you and they’ll take care of you.”

Celestia smiled warmly. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done tonight.” She said, before reaching up to nuzzle the human. “If you ever make it out to Equestria, come by the palace - you showed me your world, so it’s only fair that I show you mine.”

She lit her horn, and an engraved invitation dropped into Charlie’s hand in a shower of magical sparks.

“Was the least I could do, really.” Charlie said, smiling broadly as he carefully slipped the invitation into a coat pocket.

“The least you could have done was left me on the platform,” The princess countered. “This went above and beyond. You’ve made a friend tonight, Charlie. I won’t forget this.”

Charlie was temporarily rendered speechless by the sheer genuinity in her voice, giving Celestia an opening to turn to her other saviour on this night.

“And you,” She said, turning to the GG1 with the same level of warmth and friendliness. “Have been just as important to me on this night. I will not forget you either.” She nuzzled the GG1’s front as best she could, drawing a quiet ‘ding’ from the locomotive’s bell.

Charlie felt his eyebrows recede into his hairline at that, and behind him he could hear a surprised sounding click come out of the other GG1 behind him. An obvious proof of life from his engine was not what he - or the other engine - was expecting.

Celestia straightened up from the GG1, and with a final “Goodbye!”, spread her wings and took to the air. Charlie watched as she threaded the catenary cables over the yard, and followed her until she disappeared from sight.

Gathering up his things, he made to leave - to turn in his train orders and officially sign off on 4902 for the night. He made it about ten steps away from it and the NJT G - 4883 - before he stopped and turned around, glaring at both engines sternly.

“So, were either of you gonna tell me that you were like this?” He questioned the locomotives. “Or was this something you were gonna just sit on forever? Because there’s been a lot of things you could have told me!”

He directed this statement especially at 4883. His first ever driving assignment had been on that engine all the way back in ‘49, and he’d managed to stall the damn thing on a rainy day outside of Lancaster by making every rookie mistake in the book. If that engine could have told him how to not screw up and didn’t, he’d be quite upset with it.

Silence fell over the railyard for a long moment, long enough to make Charlie think that maybe he was going crazy, before the green GG1’s marker lights lit up softly. He got the distinct feeling that the locomotive remembered that little incident, and was a bit embarrassed by it.

He sighed dramatically. These engines were older than he was and yet insisted on acting like his daughter when she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I suppose that’s the best I’m gonna get out of you two, isn’t it?”

Both engines blinked their marker lights before going dark again. Charlie chose to take that as a yes.

“You’re both incorrigible.” He said, somewhat at a loss for words as he trudged off to the yard office. “Just, go to sleep - we all have trains in the morning.”

Two Blocks Away

The staff at Carmello’s All-Night Pizzeria had seen a lot of things in their time: standard things like drunks, late night workers from the nearby rail yard, and cops looking for a good slice before dawn. There was also the odd stuff: hookers, addicts, nutcases, and even the occasional stray dog that would beg for scraps at the back door - it was the way of New York City, to have all the crazies come out at night

That being said, crazy did not begin to describe what happened when a flying horse dropped out of the sky and landed on 30th street. Diego, the Honduran delivery boy who was obsessed with horses, began swearing rapidly in his native Spanish when the horse landed, and didn’t stop doing so until the horse turned and walked into the open door of the pizza shop.

She was a beautiful white mare, with massive wings tucked up at her sides. Lonnie, the cook, was almost ready to begin wondering exactly where such an animal would have come from when the horse looked at the menu and then ordered a large cheese pie to go.

That stopped all conversation in its tracks for the duration of the purchase as Diego quickly processed the mare’s transaction, boxed up the pizza, and rang her up.

The fact that the horse paid with a piece of gold worth well more than the pizza was somewhat overshadowed by the fact that she levitated it to Diego.

She then left, leaving Diego and Lonnie standing in an empty pizzeria as she flew away to wherever it was she’d come from.

“Did any of that just happen?” Lonnie eventually asked. “Or did someone dose me when I wasn’t looking?”

“No, la pinche princesa caballo nadamas entró aquí.” Diego said, so shocked by what had just happened that he forgot how to speak English.

End of The Line

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Sunnyside Yard

No matter what Charlie said, it was deeply unlikely that either GG1 was going to get any sleep at all that night. 4883 had been insistent that 4902 explain exactly what had happened with the Flying Pony, and 4902 knew that there wasn’t going to be any sleep until the chatty green GG1 had their answers.

Of course, hanging over both engines was the biggest, most unanswerable question of all: How are we alive?

It had been happening over the past few weeks. Engines up and down the corridor had started experiencing flashes of consciousness - of life. Flashes that had started getting longer and longer until one day they stopped being flashes and started being life. None of them knew how this was happening, or why, but it was happening, like it or not.

A few of the older engines - some of the New York Central T and S motors who had been around the block a bit longer - said that it was because they all had some life in them, left over from when they were built, and now it was starting to show up in odd ways:

An E44 absentmindedly rolled past a signal in Maryland, its driver screaming that the engine was moving forward even though he’d put the throttle into reverse.

GG1s found themselves making passive aggressive comments to each other about the state of their paintwork, and more than one locomotive had refused to move until they were run through the engine wash - much to the bafflement of mechanical services.

A few members of the MP54 fleet were apparently further along in showing life than just about anyone else - while most engines could barely think with their pantographs down, one particularly ornery old car was rumoured to have audibly told their driver to go fuck himself after being compared unfavorably to the new Amfleet coaches.

The yard switcher at Bear Shops in Delaware became increasingly uncomfortable with the lifeless silence of the E60 fleet, and began to refuse to go near them. The shops had the poor SW1 in pieces and still couldn’t find anything wrong.

Of course, that left a lot of the new diesels asking why they were more special than the lifeless E60s and Metroliners. Why were they capable of showing life before their first birthdays, when some of the electrics had no life in them at all?

A lot of the old electrics wondered that too, especially the PRR fleet, who had spent many decades of non-sentience operating as bitter rivals to the NYC engines, and thought that the T motors were spouting nonsense.

What’s your grand idea then, genius? This had been a common refrain from former New Haven engines - their own lack of any good ideas didn’t stop them from criticizing others - and the former Pennsy fleet had been forced to realize that they didn’t have any idea why this was happening.

Some engines handled this realization a bit differently than others.

Some - mostly Conrail engines, but a few from Amtrak’s ranks - panicked, asking why why why even after all possible answers were exhausted.

Others, like the MP54s - chose not to mention it, going about their duties like they always had, now with the added burden of being alive. Most engines suspected that it was due to their proximity to the non-electrified segments at both ends of the corridor, where non-sentient engines from other railroads worked. 4902 personally suspected that they were actually curious about what happened, and were frightened about the answers they got - most of the commuter cars were much smarter than they looked, and had to wonder why life was not spreading outside of the corridor.

Most Amtrak electrics - 4902 included - might not have known why they were now alive, but they did know exactly what would happen to them as soon as the new engines from EMD passed inspection, and chose to enjoy every minute of life they had left, before their inevitable meet with the scrapper’s torch.

However, something must have been different in the electricity down in New Jersey, because all of the NJ Transit engines, 4883 included, had decided that since they had spent the better part of half a century being silent, they had better get caught up on all that talking right now. Amtrak engines who laid over at Sunnyside next to the NJT fleet had spent the first week of their new life marveling at just being alive, and then spent the next week wishing that the New Jerseyans would shut up.

They didn’t, by the way.

4883 likely would have kept talking all through the night and into the morning if Celestia hadn’t suddenly appeared over the catenary wires, mercifully causing the chatterbox of an engine to fall silent.

“I said that I’d bring pizza back for you, didn’t I?” The pony smiled as she landed in between the yard tracks, a pizza box suspended in her magic.

4902 rang their bell in response - even with the unexpectedly strong connection they had with the pony, they still couldn’t actually speak to non-engines.

Celestia smiled, and levitated a slice out of the box - looking inside, 4902 could see that most of the pizza was already gone - some-pony(?) was hungry.

“I’m not quite sure if this will work, but here goes nothing!” She said, before vaporizing the slice inside a bubble of golden magic.

Before 4902 could make any audible sounds of confusion, the golden bubble of magically vaporized pizza was shoved into the engine’s air intakes, where the bubble vanished.

4902 was not expecting anything to actually come of this, and was therefore astonished to be able to taste pizza deep within its intakes.

Celestia watched as the GG1 flickered its lights in obvious shock as the pizza-vapor vanished into its vents.

“Yes!” She cheered quietly, glad to see that her off-the-cuff spell had worked. It was an abbreviated version of some old archiving and restoration spells that Star Swirl had come up with back in the day, combined with some -

Hang on, She thought to herself as she noticed a new splotch of dark red around the locomotive’s air intake. Spell burn shouldn’t happen with this.

She flapped her wings and put herself at eye level with the locomotive’s vent. Putting a hoof on the side, she could feel the engine’s emotions: Confusion; shock; understanding of why humans liked pizza. No pain, or other obvious indication that any spell burn had occurred. Then what had happened?

Cocking her head in confusion, she quickly atomized another slice of pizza. “I want to try something - hold still.” She said quietly to the locomotive as she fed more pizza through a different portion of the vent.

She watched as the engine’s shabby black paint chipped and faded around the area the bubble had touched, leaving behind another mark of deep, shiny red.

“Were you painted red before?” She asked the engine, her mind working as she remembered a few dozen theorems and equations surrounding these old magicks.

The engine sent back an affirmative sensation - green, then red, and it liked red better - and she realized exactly what this spell had done.

It’s a restorative - turning old into new. Starswirl had wanted to fix broken book bindings and got carried away again…

Then Charlie’s voice rang through her mind: “Newer stuff works better ‘cause they haven’t been out on the rails for half a century. These engines are like me - they aren’t spring chickens anymore.”

Celestia suddenly had an idea.

Landing in front of the locomotive, Celestia grinned mischievously as she built up a bit of magic on her horn, charging the spell much more than she had last time, while tweaking it subtly. “I want to give you one final parting gift, as a token of my friendship.”

She released the spell, and a wave of golden magic lept from her horn and bathed over the GG1. She’d put a bit too much power into the spell, and residual energy spilled in all directions - including on top of the GG1 on the next track.

For a moment, there was silence, as the magic seeped into the metal skin of both locomotives. Then, quietly, the black paint on 4902’s nose began to blister and bubble. Slowly, the inelegantly applied paint began to crack and fail, falling off the skin of the GG1 in massive flakes, revealing a deep shiny red underneath. Gold pinstriping began to appear in spots, glittering with metallic flecks, while the small white numbers reading 4902, clearly stenciled on in a paint shop, fell away to reveal large golden numerals that looked like they had been applied by the steady hand of a master craftsman.

On the next track, 4883 was undergoing the same transformation, its tired green paint bubbling and cracking to reveal a shiny new layer of the same shade. The large solid gold stripe stayed intact, but became shinier - a metallic gleam appearing where it had previously faded away. Down on the bottom corner of the engine’s body, the tiny New Jersey Department of Transportation lettering stayed exactly where it was, but now looked somewhat cleaner and better done - like it had been applied by the same master painter that had done its numbers.

Massive red shapes that looked like bridge keystones began to appear in the center of both locomotives and below each headlight, and fine gold lettering began to become visible as the last of the black paint fell off. Dirt and grime that had been caked to headlights and other pieces of glass melted away, leaving surfaces so clean they were almost transparent.

Finally, it was over. In front of Celestia stood two essentially brand new GG1’s, one a rich dark green and the other a shiny brunswick red, each looking and feeling like like they were fifty years younger with new paint, clean windows, and two foot high sparkling gold letters that read “PENNSYLVANIA” down the side of each engine.

Although it wasn’t visible, inside the engines sat brand new electric motors, transformers, frames, and suspension linkages - all factory fresh and free from the wear and tear of a half century on the rails.

Both 4883 and 4902 were rendered speechless at what had just happened.

Celestia smiled at both engines, pleased with her hoofwork. “I can’t thank you enough, for everything you’ve done,” she said to 4902.

She reached up and nuzzled the engine once again, smiling at the engine’s whirlwind of confusion as to what just happened.

Pulling back, she once again made her goodbyes to the silent engines, before taking flight towards the city. Once she’d gotten enough airspace between herself and the ground, she focused on her hotel room in Philadelphia, and vanished in a flash of magic.

Back on the ground, 4902 watched as Celestia flew away.

“What in the steel-wheeled fuck just happened?”

Beside them, 4883 responded. “She left without giving me any pizza, that’s what happened.”

“Really? That’s your takeaway from this? That you didn’t get any pizza?”

“She gave you pizza.”

“We just got de-aged, you nincompoop! I feel like I just got out-shopped for the first time all over again, and all you care about is the pizza?!”

“I’m hungry!”

“Both of us are incapable of eating! You don’t even have a stomach!”

“You got to eat.”

“Do- Do - Do they wax you with something different in Amboy? Are there fumes? Do you act like this on purpose, or does being in Middlesex County for extended periods of time do something to an engine?”

“I’m just saying that I wanted some pizza!”

“Pizza is not the issue here!!”

At the other end of the yard track, unnoticed by the bickering electrics, Charlie was wondering if he’d had a damn stroke.

He had seen Celestia take off again, and was honestly curious to see if she had made good on her promise to fetch pizza for the 4902 when shouting had started from the area around the two engines. The two engines that were much cleaner than they had been ten minutes ago. The two engines that were definitely talking to each other.

Charlie was not a coward. Charlie was not one to shirk his duties. Charlie was not one to shy away from a challenge.

But GG1s could now talk.

If he was honest, he should do something. At least go see what was happening-

“I like anchovies, okay?”

“YOU DON’T HAVE A MOUTH TO EAT THEM WITH! WHEN WOULD YOU HAVE BEEN ABLE TO FIND THAT OUT?!”

Nope.

Nope.

Charlie was gonna go home. Charlie was gonna pretend that he didn’t hear anything. Charlie was gonna let the day shift deal with this shit.

Philadelphia - 7:40 AM

It was well past dawn by the time that Johnson, Tempered, and Dagger managed to drag themselves back into the hotel. They had checked every bus, every cab, every truck, every thing that could have possibly carried the Princess into New York City, and they had come up with nothing. They had searched garbage trucks and still came back with nothing.

DeCiccio and his agents were still out there - Tempered had found them a nice garbage barge to go through in case Princess Celestia had decided to take to the high seas.

Dagger was on the edge of magical burnout, Johnson was practically asleep on his feet, and Tempered had just managed to muster up enough energy to teleport the trio back to Philadelphia. Handing over their non-existent evidence to her lieutenants, Tempered left the exhausted agent in the planning room, saw Dagger back to the guard contingent’s suite, and then staggered back down the hallway in the direction of her room, intent on getting some amount of sleep before continuing the search.

She was almost there, staggering past Princess Celestia’s room when the door opened.

It was a testament to exactly how tired she was that Tempered didn’t really acknowledge this until a familiar voice called out to her. “Commander?”

“Yes Princess - Princess Celestia!” Tempered jumped to attention, going from exhausted to wide awake in just a few heartbeats. “What are you doing here ma’am? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where did you go last night?”

The Princess blinked, clearly not expecting Tempered’s response. “Oh. I’m sorry my little pony, did I cause any confusion?”

“Not at all ma’am. We’ve just been looking for you.” Tempered said, perhaps a bit more curt than was appropriate.

“All night?”

“Yes Your Majesty. Where did you go?”

Celestia gathered Tempered in a motherly hug as she realized how much issue she’d caused her staff. “I’m so sorry Commander. I took the train up to New York City.”

“You did?” Tempered could feel her eye twitching.

“Yes. I wanted to try a culinary delicacy local to the region.”

It took Tempered a long moment to decipher that statement. “Your Majesty, did you go all the way to New York City for some pizza?” She asked as she buried her head into the Princess’ shoulder, her eye twitching madly.

“Yes. And I made some new friends along the way.”

“Did you?”

“Oh yes. I’d love to tell you about them, but I believe that somepony needs some sleep first.” Without waiting for any argument, Celestia carried Tempered into the guardsmare’s suite and went so far as to tuck her into bed before leaving to inform the others of her safe return.

Tempered waited a long moment until the door clicked shut behind The Princess, before rolling over and screaming into her pillow.

“WHAT TRAIN?! WHAT TRAIN DID YOU TAKE?! I SEARCHED EVERY TRAIN!”

Epilogue

View Online

Equestria Daily|UPI Newswire - 37 MidSummer, 9 A.N.M | July 9, 1980

-BULLETIN-

TRANSPORTATION/ROYAL NEWS

CANTERLOT - As part of the ongoing modernization effort of Equestria’s rail network, Princess Celestia announced today that the Equestrian Royal Railway will purchase, for an undisclosed amount, all available type ‘GG1’ electric locomotives from railways in the United States including: the United States National Passenger Rail Corporation [AMTRAK], the Consolidated Rail Corporation [CONRAIL] and the New Jersey Department of Transportation [NJDOT/NJ TRANSIT].

In her announcement, Her Royal Highness praised the locomotives’ lengthy and reliable service history in the United States, and expressed hope that they would serve Equestria’s rail network for similar periods of time. When questioned about the advanced age of the locomotive fleet, Princess Celestia responded that each engine would undergo “significant restoration” before entering service, and predicted that their useful service life could be extended “dramatically”.

Most locomotives will enter service on the Manehattan-Canterlot line upon completion of the electrification works in two years time. However, Her Royal Highness stated that one locomotive, AMTRAK #4902, had already been procured by the Royal Palace for testing purposes, and was transported to Equestria via the Fort Dix-Ponyville Portal last week.

--END BULLETIN--

Night Train to New York

by jz1

Prologue

Caged

Flight

All Aboard!

Interlude - Holmesburg Junction

Into New Jersey

Meanwhile in Philadelphia...

Newark

New York, New York

End of The Line

Epilogue