Sunny Starscout is a young girl living in Falmouth, England. A fiery spirit and determined in her own beliefs, she is dismissed by her friends and locals for her belief in the legendary Island of Sodor, a place they insist cannot possible exist and only exists in books.
However, all this changes when she discovers a locomotive in an old shed on the dockside, one of the mythical non-faceless vehicles. Together with her new friend Izzy Moonbow and her engine, they will journey across England in search of Sodor, meeting new friends, engage in wacky adventures along the way, and find a way to bring the magic back.
Based on My Little Pony: a New Generation, and a soft reboot of my Thomas and Friends continuity. Requested by Thomlight Sparkle 1.
Thomas the Tank Engine chuffed cheerfully down the line, as he approached the marvellous vista that was Knapford Station. Many people were already thronged there, waiting for something to happen.
He rolled to a stop in one of the platforms and sounded his whistle. "Hello everybody! Welcome to the Island of Sodor!"
Edward looked over. "Hello Thomas!" he said. "What brings you here today?"
"Sir Toppham Hatt has a very important job for all of us. It will take the entire Steam Team to pull it off!" the small blue tank engine chirped with a smile on his face. "Although little engines can do big things, sometimes we have to work together to overcome the largest obstacles!"
Henry and Gordon arrived moments later. "I hope the job isn't too challenging," Henry said. "I have a bout of boiler ache."
"Stuff and nonsense!" Gordon boomed. "If your runs with the express are anything to go by, I know this will be a doddle for you or the others!"
Percy rolled to a stop with some mail. "Sorry for the delay!" he said. "Some parcels were being most uncoperative!"
"Not to worry!" Thomas said. "If we put our minds to it, we can shift any mountain. Now where's James?"
"Probably preening over his paint again," Gordon sighed. "You know how he is."
"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE'S JAMES!" said a familiar voice, and James rolled to a stop in the platform. "I hear something about a Special Special!"
"Well," Thomas began, "Sir Toppham Hatt told us that we have a very big task ahead of us, and-"
"This is stupid!" James suddenly said, in a voice most unlike his own.
Edward blinked. "James, are you feeling alright?"
"I said this whole thing is stupid!" James said, now speaking in a nasally, annoying voice. "I mean, whoever heard of talking steam trains? The entire thing is just impossible, you know? Besides, can't we make this more exciting by having the engines not get along!" He sped forward and charged into some trucks. "This makes things more interesting!"
Thomas spoke up in response to this... in a female voice. "Sprout, stop it!"
Three children were sat around a table in a room, looking intensely at what was on the table. The group consisted of two boys and one girl. One of the boys had pinkish skin and slicked back yellowy hair, with a mean looking expression on his face. His nose seemed to be permanently closed up in a nasty pout, which gave the distinct impression of looking down his nose at people. His clothing, consisting of ugly blue pants and a hideous looking T shirt, only reinforced this notion of snobbery and cheapness.
The second boy had peach toned skin and piercing orange eyes. These were accented by his greenish turquoise hair, which sat atop his head in a short cut. However, he had none of the nastiness present in the face of the other boy, and seemed to be trying to keep order in the room. He had the most formal clothing on by a considerable margin, consisting of jeans and a pocketed shirt, with a utility belt around his waist.
Which brings us onto the girl, the sole female in the room. She had orange skin and turquoise blue eyes, above which sat a messy mop of purple hair arranged in several strands. However, much of it was placed into a braid. She wore blue jeans and an orange T shirt, over which sat a rather awkward green jacket a few sizes too small.
"Stop what?" the first boy said. "I was only voicing my opinion, Sunny. This would be so much more exciting with some more crashes!"
"That's not how this works! They're all meant to be friends!" the girl, now revealed to be Sunny, replied. "You're not supposed to break the models, Sprout! My dad and me worked really hard on them!" She glanced over to the other boy. "Tell him, Hitch!"
Hitch shrugged. "I only know what you've told me about this, Sunny, but I'm more than happy to play the game the way you want to, Sunny."
Suddenly, there was a ringing doorbell, and Sprout jumped to his feet. "That must be mommy!" he said, and dashed for the door.
Suddenly, the door opened before him, and a man entered. He had blue skin and messy hair that would befit a mad scientist, and a fairly substancial beard to boot. His purple eyes were framed by a pair of glasses, and he wore a pair of cargo pants complemented by a dark blue shirt. He looked around the room and saw the mess on the table. He walked over to clean it up.
"What happened here?" he asked.
"Dad, Sprout wrecked the James model!" Sunny replied.
Sprout stopped dead in his tracks as he heard his name being said.
The man, Sunny's father, blinked. "Sprout, what have I told you about telling Sunny how to play with her toys and messing with things that don't belong to you?"
"To not to," Sprout said. "But mommy will make sure you're sorry for being mean to me!"
The man shook his head as he walked to the door. On the other side was a pink skinned woman with greyish eyes and a hairdo that essentially screamed 'can I talk to the manager'. Her glasses looked something taken from the Dolores Umbridge rejection pile, and her grey suit more than added to the image.
"Hello, Argyle," she said. "I trust you kept my son in one piece."
Argyle sighed. "Look, Phyllis, you need to do something about Sprout. He was trying to tell Sunny how to play with her toys- again. If you don't knock any sense into him he's going to grow up entitled."
"There's nothing wrong with my little Sprout trying to get your Sunny to grow up," Phyllis replied. "And that's something you should do as well. All this Sodor nonsense is most unfitting of an adult. There comes a time to put away childish things, after all."
Argyle sighed as Phyllis and Sprout walked away. "That woman is insufferable," he said. "Come on Hitch, I'd best be getting you home. Your mother will be wondering where you are."
Several hours later, the sun was setting over the bay that Argyle called home. As he stood on the balcony and looked out, he heard a voice behind him. "Dad?"
He turned around. "Yes, Sunny?"
"Can you tell me about Sodor?"
Argyle nodded as he stepped off the balcony and towards his study. As he opened the door, a wondrous smell of old paper and well read books came out. Hanging from the walls were paintings, maps, track diagrams, and place names straight out of the wonders of England and Wales.
Argyle indicated to a seat, and Sunny sat down. He then began to speak, his kindly voice soon taking on a regular rhythm, as though he had said these words many times before.
"Picture a land where the sky is so blue... a storybook land of wonder... a magical island just waiting for you..."
"What was it like?" Sunny asked.
"Well, I was only three when the steam age came to an end, so I can't tell you what it was like on the mainland. But I did go to Sodor many times. I collected these images and diagrams during my travels." He picked one up. "Such as this standard timetable for the North Western, 1978 edition. Or these posters over here."
"What about that map?"
"Oh, that was made by a friend of mine, a Mister Dalby. He died a few years ago, and asked me to look after it." Argyle paused, a smile on his face as he felt the memories flooding back. "There really is no way to do Sodor justice with just words. You have to be there to really understand. All the people, happy and content. A place where steam still reigns supreme."
"Can we go one day?" Sunny asked, clearly excited by the prospect of visiting this legendary place.
"Of course we can," Argyle smiled, rubbing his daughter's head. "Now you'd best be off to bed. We have an early start tomorrow if we're going to catch the morning train from Bodmin."
Sunny nodded, and walked off to her room. Argyle turned around and switched on a webcam, looking into the image as he saw a familiar face pop up on the screen. "Goldie! Long time no see!"
"Hello Argyle," 'Goldie' replied. "How's my mad scientist?"
"Just fine," Argyle smiled. "We're close to finishing up for Reading Week at the university, and I think that should free up some time for me and Sunny to go and do some sightseeing around Cornwall. And you?"
"Well, more of the same. I've got a flight to catch tomorrow morning to Dresden for another financial meeting. I hope I can meet up with you again soon."
"You too, Goldenella." Argyle ended the call there, and glanced out into the sea. "Island of Sodor... where all my dreams come true." As the last of the light faded away, he exited the room, closing the door behind him, not noticing a small glowing object underneath a table lamp.
The morning began to awaken over the sleepy town of Falmouth, Cornwall. As the night slowly gave way to the glorious dawn of a new day, the sun opened his sleepy eyes and looked down, focusing his gaze upon the small seaside settlement.
Falmouth was a town defined by the sea. A magnificent relic of the former age of sail, it was from here the Packet Ships had sailed to connect the corners of the British Empire, ensuring news and communications could flow across Britannia's realm. Although a shadow of its former self, the docks still handled plenty of cargo, and the town was also home to cultural and academic pursuits. It was home to a University specialising in the arts and specialised design and media, and also to a branch of the National Maritime Museum.
And we shall now turn our attention away from the town proper. The town was flanked on many sides by cliffs that climbed almost to the heavens, and the white cliffs nicely echoed the blue sky that hung above them. Just to the edge of these cliffs sat a small tower, which was painted white and blue, and had a dome on the top made largely of glass with a blue top cover. A house built of Cornish stone sat at the bottom of the tower.
This structure was the former Falmouth Lighthouse, that had guided ships into and out of the port for centuries. It had since been decommisioned and turned into a home, but the lense still worked and was sometimes still lit up for special events, such as Cornwall Day. Sometimes it even sounded a message in Cornish in Morse Code to the world, showing that the Cornish language, although dying, was not dead just yet.
It is inside this house that our story begins.
The light shone directly into one of the rooms inside the home, and within the noise and light a figure began to stir. "My beaver went swimming in a piano," she murmered to herself, slowly hauling herself out of bed.
Sunny Starscout placed her feet onto the floor and glanced over to the clock on her bedside table. Her eyes widened like dinner plates when she saw the time, and she shook her head to try and shift any remaining tiredness from her eyes. "Oh sugarcubes! I'm gonna be late!"
She dashed out of the room, having tried and failed to clear her rather severe case of bed hair, and once she had finished showering she got changed into her clothing of choice. This consisted of a pair of blue jeans complemented with a purple shirt and orange hoodie. She slipped a personal bag over her shoulder, locking the strap into place with a click, and walked into the kitchen.
"Dad? I over... slept..." she trailed off, seeing the room empty. She turned to the fridge and saw a note on it.
Figured you were tired and decided to let you sleep in. I'm at the University and should be back by lunchtime.
I left a croissant for you in the fridge if you'd like it.
Best of luck with your stand today.
Dad.
Sunny smiled as she popped open the fridge door and took the food out, munching on it to get her start whilst the coffee machine boiled.
After a few minutes, she was ready to head out into the world. She strolled over to the door and lifted a blue striped helmet off a hook, securing it in position atop her head before fitting elbow and knee guards to her arms and legs respectively. Finally, she strapped on a pair of roller skates and regained her balance on them, before sliding out of the door and closing it.
The door closing caused a picture of her and her dad to go askew, she she dashed back in and corrected it before looking the door behind her. At last, she was on her way into town.
Sunny rollerbladed through the streets, sure enough feeling a song coming on as she sped by.
"Good morning, sun! No time to chat, I gotta run! 'Cause I've got places to be!
"So much to do Excited, yes, and nervous, too! A change is starting with me!"
She skidded past a nearby bus, rolling out of the way just in time before it rolled past. The bus driver blasted his horn, annoyed, as Sunny landed on another pathway.
"I never worry 'bout Upsetting carts, hardened hearts Or wonder "Will I belong?"
"I've heard it enough, I'm callin' their bluff- I'll never get lost in the grey! There's somethin' inside, burns bigger than pride Shines out of me lighting the way!"
Seeing the pathway suddenly end in front of her, Sunny hopped on the rail and skidded down it in a manner not disimilar to a Sonic character sliding down a rail, before dropping back onto the path again.
"Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (be my day) Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (oh-oh-oh-oh) Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (gonna be my day) Gonna be my day!" (ooh-ooh)
Sunny had no idea where the backing singers were coming from, nor did she really care. Carefree was her watchword.
"Hey there, hello The friends I make, the friends I know Today you answer my call!"
Sunny sped past a news stand and picked up a newspaper, tossing the coins to the shopkeeper. He waved kindly, glad that a teenager was actually bothering to read a newspaper.
"Instead of hide- Instead of staying stuck inside Instead of building your wall?"
"Come on and party with me Join the band, understand We'll all be singin' this song!"
Sunny had taken a higher road, and swung around by the railway station, seeing a diesel train rattle to a stop in the platform, and some tourists get off. Up ahead was a banner.
FALMOUTH WELCOMES VISITORS TO THE TECHNOLOGY FAIR
THE UNIVERSITY IS NEARBY
Sunny turned down a tight passageway, effortlessly rolling down the cobbled streets.
"I've heard it enough, I'm callin' their bluff! I'll never get lost in the grey! Go big or go home, get real or get known! Get ready and raring to say!"
"Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (be my day) Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (oh-oh-oh-oh) Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (gonna be my day) Gonna be my day!" (ooh-ooh)
Sunny turned a corner with a vista that opened up onto the sea, the sun illuminating the water and causing it to glow with almost incandescent power.
"Everyone's afraid- Always judgin', never budgin', Ain't it time we made The team, the dream? Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-ohhhhhh!"
Sunny flew along main street, not far from many of the local homes and the Fisherman's Arms (a popular place for students at the University). Not far from here was where she positioned her table for selling milkshakes.
"Let's cross a new aisle, let's flash a new smile Let's sparkle right out of the grey! We'll open our eyes, sun's starting to rise And finally able to say!"
"Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (gonna be my day) Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (gonna be my day) Gonna be, gonna be, gonna be my day! (gonna be my day) Gonna be my day!" (be my... day!)
(Oh-oh-oh-oh) "Gonna be my day! (Oh-oh-oh-oh) Gonna be my day!"
Sunny skidded to a stop at one of shops and wheeled out her table, followed by the refridgeration unit which she kept her milkshakes in. Whilst not a poor family, Sunny preferred to do something productive with her holidays, a sentiment shared by the school she went to.
A policeman walked past. "I must inform you, madame, that you were in violation of the Singing Broadway Numbers in Public Act. It is my civil duty to inform you that this is a Civil Offence, and that any subsequent violations will result in fines."
Sunny looked slightly deflated, but soon recovered when she saw a customer arrive. "Good morning, sir! Can I get you anything?"
"Oh, hello Sarah," the man said. "Do you have a vanilla one?"
Sunny nodded. "Coming right up!" Sarah was her real name, but she had acquired the nickname Sunny whilst in primary school based on her personality, and the name had rather stuck.
She handed over the milkshake and nodded. "That'll be three pounds, please."
The customer seemed satisfied, and Sunny looked about to see if anybody was about to arrive. Things seemed slightly quiet for now, with the only noise being a band playing an old Hornpipe tune nearby. She figured that she had some time available to do some reading, and so popped out a book from her bag.
Inside it was a small text. The title was a familiar one to her, as it was one of several historical railway texts penned by her father. She momentarily shaken out of her focus by a familiar voice speaking.
"You reading one of your crackpot books again?"
Sunny looked up to see Sprout looking at her. Although taller, and a bit thinner, and with a deeper voice, not much else had changed. Sprout still had a mean sneer to him that was characteristic to his family. He was currently dressed in camouflage.
"Good morning Sprout," Sunny replied. "Why the uniform? I didn't realise this was a military matter."
Sprout shrugged. "That's Corporal Sprout to you. And the uniform is because the CCF are providing parking and security detail for the technology fair today. Which is a far better use of time than reading nonsense like that. A Comprehensive History of the Non-Faceless Vehicles? I can just sense you've inherited your dad's craziness!"
Sunny flinched. Sprout had touched a rather sore nerve with that remark, but she resisted the desire to punch him in the face. Instead, she started on an inspired speech.
"It's not crazy because it's true! Dad saw it all! And we have proof!"
Sprout rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go again."
"If Sodor and the machines of the island don't exist, as you so often claim is the case, then how do you explain how photographs exist of them? Or the fact that Sodor occurs in world and British maps? What's your rebuttal?"
"Photoshop and cartographer's errors, I bet. Your dad's a photography expert, right? He could easily make fakes like that. If these 'non-faceless vehicles', as you call them, exist, how come nobody's ever seen one?"
Sunny breathed out. "One day, I will find one and bring it to Falmouth, and prove that we are right."
"Whatever." Sprout's face was unmoving. "I've got to get to work. Feel free to stay on your soapbox and rant about things nobody cares about."
Sunny sat back in a chair as Hitch walked up, also in camo. "Sorry about him," he said. The three chevrons on his chest revealed him to be a Sergeant. "But I have to say you're not helping yourself."
"I just want to show them the truth..."
Hitch sighed. "I'm one of the last friends you have in this town. There's only so far I can go before this starts affecting my chances too. Do you want to lose me too?"
Sunny shook her head.
Hitch saw he had been a bit harsh. "Come on, for old time's sake."
The duo started off on an elaborate series of hand gestures combined with a rhyme. "Up high, down low, hitch it to a post! Flip it sunny-side up and on a piece of toast!"
Hitch walked away. "See ya later."
Sunny glanced back to her stand before hearing screaming from the street up above.
"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" shouted one person.
"FLEE! FLEE! FLEE YOU IDIOTS!" said another.
"NOT TOWARDS IT!" said another.
"THERE'S A GREAT BIG MONSTER AT THE STATION!" said somebody.
Sunny pulled on her skates, as curiosity got the better of her. She dug into the ground and sped off for the station, keen to see whatever had turned up.
Sunny made her way up into the harbour, skating along as best she could despite the rush of people hurrying in the other direction. The mass of people was like a reservoir emptying out before her, flowing as far away as they could from whatever this 'monster' was.
"Sunny, are you crazy?" shouted somebody else. "Go the other way and avoid that thing! It's a sight so horrendous that it cannot be described!"
Sunny decided to ignore him, and continued to the station. The main rule of trying to find something people were scared of was to follow the screaming and work back from there. And the epicentre of the screaming was the railway station. She jumped up the steps and onto the platform, coolly rolling past the booking office and under the canopy of Falmouth Docks, where she stopped to remove her roller blades.
Sitting in the platform was something indeed. Sunny's eyes went wide when she saw it.
It was a small, squat, black tank engine. It had short, angular side tanks, sat upon the tops of the frames. These ran about as far as the dome atop the large boiler. The bufferbeams hung down at the front and back of the engine, and a complex mess of pipework ran up and down the boiler.
On top of the wheels sat a pair of squat outside cylinders, and behind them was a complex mix of valve gear for forward and backward travel. The engine was certainly not one intended to operate at speed at all. It was also painted black, with a strange emblem on the tanks. It looked like a ferret standing upright that was holding a wheel, standing atop a crown.
But this wasn't the most notable feature of the engine.
The engine had a face.
Sunny looked at it. The engine looked at her. And then the engine said something.
"This doesn't look like the right place, Izzy."
Seconds later there was movement in the cab, and moments after the movement started a person stuck her head out of the cab.
"Hmmm," she said. "I knew we should have taken that left turn at Newton Abbot!"
She hopped out of the cab and landed on the platform with a thud. She was about Sunny's height, with purplish pink skin and intense eyes, of a pinkish or purplish shade. Her hair was varying shades of blue and hung in messy curls down her back and a series of awkward bangs on her forehead. There was a small thing in her hair, and she was currently wearing a blue boilersuit.
Seconds later she noticed Sunny standing there, gawping. The girl then bounded over. "Hi new friend! My name's Izzy!"
Before Sunny could react, the girl took her arm and started shaking it so hard it nearly came off.
"Err, hi!" Sunny replied, trying to disengage contact. "What brings you two to Falmouth?"
The tank engine looked over. "Great. We're seriously lost, aren't we?"
Izzy nodded. "Yep. I'm Izzy, and this is Porter!"
"Although 'Mrs Sense of Direction' might be more appropriate," 'Porter' grumbled.
"Miss. I'm not married." Izzy turned her attention back to Sunny. "What's your name?"
"I'm Sunny," Sunny replied.
Izzy squee'd. "That's a lovely name! I know we'll get along just fine!" She began hopping up and down on the spot.
"That's pretty normal for her," Porter noted.
Suddenly, the attention of all three was drawn by a noise from the platform. A large mob of people had started to assemble, with none other than Phyllis Cloverleaf at the helm. They looked very cross.
"There it is!" said somebody, a voice that Sunny recognised as one of the people who had fled. "There's the monster!"
Phyllis straightened her jacket. "I want all three of you to come quietly. You are under arrest."
Sunny said one word in response. "RUN!"
Izzy and Sunny leaped onto the footplate. Izzy frantically wound Porter's reverser to full reverse and released his brakes, starting to back out of the station. Porter's wheels spun with the amount of force acquired, whilst Sunny hung out of the side of the cab, spotting a switch up ahead.
"Run for that switch! Full steam ahead!"
Izzy nodded, keeping Porter's steam up and Sunny jumped off. She sprinted to the switch and changed it, the points creaking as they shifted to the other track. Porter thundered over and they rolled down the hill, Sunny having jumped on in the meantime.
"Where does this go?" Izzy asked.
"Down into the docks! There's a route we can take to get out of here!" Sunny replied.
Porter came to a stop in the siding at the bottom to let Sunny change the switches again, before she rejoined the footplate as Porter surged forward.
"Slight problem up ahead!" Porter said. "People are moving some trucks into our way!"
"Don't slow down!" Sunny called. "If you slow down, they'll get an opening!"
Izzy kept Porter's regulator full open as he rumbled along at twenty miles an hour. This might not seem fast, but on the trackwork of the dockyard it was perilously fast. He collided with the trucks, which rolled into a series of sidings, the points bending under their movement and crashing into the buffers.
Porter seemed pleased with the results. "I AM A SHUNTING GOD!"
As they steamed round a bend, Izzy took something out of her pocket and offered it to Sunny. "Cornish Pasty?"
"Why are you offering me a Cornish Pasty?" Sunny asked. "Haven't we got bigger things to worry about?"
"I just figured that, as a Cornish person, you might want one."
Sunny facepalmed. "Cornish people eat other things, you know!"
Izzy saw this was high time to change the subject. "So, why are all these people chasing us anyway? Seems an odd thing to do."
"They're terrified!" Sunny replied. "They've never seen a Non-Faceless Vehicle before, and are simply scared. If we stop, they may arrest us and try to destroy Porter. So keep moving!"
Izzy sighed. "That's rude."
Porter rattled through a loop, meaning he was now going the other way. Police cars raced down the dockside in an effort to run down the tank engine. "Look, the rozzers are here!"
"Rozzers?" Sunny asked.
"Means policeman. Don't you southerners speak English?"
Porter rejoined the main alignment and was heading forward. Sunny spotted the next switch and got down to set it, throwing the lever just in time as the tank engine rumbled into another switchback.
Porter backed into the next siding, in readiness for switching directions again, but he was momentarily distracted, as was Izzy.
"Look over there. They have cinemas here."
Izzy looked delighted. "I've been wanting to see that!"
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from down below, and Porter came to an abrupt stop. Izzy applied more regulator, but it seemed to be having no effect. "Why aren't we moving?"
Sunny ran over. "Wheel clamp securing the rear wheels in place!" she called back.
Several members of the CCF sprinted into position and Hitch drove down on a quadbike, stopping it and getting into position. "Ladies and gentlemen, calm down!" he said. "The problem is over! The issue is dealt with. Now if you could step back and let the professionals handle this."
Sunny looked up to Izzy. "Wait for my signal. Keep a hand on the regulator and another on the brakes."
"I only have two hands, so that rather limits me," Izzy replied.
Hitch looked to Sunny, who was stepping closer to the button meant to release the clamp. "No."
Sunny stepped closer.
Hitch began to walk towards her. "Now now, let's not do anything stupid, shall we?"
Sunny began to lift her foot.
"No. Don't you dare."
Sunny gave him a glare that would melt a glacier. Hitch, however, didn't yield.
"Sunny, I'm warning you. Don't do something stupid!"
Sunny smiled. "Oh yeah. Stupid this."
She stomped down on the button, which released the clamp.
"NOW!"
Izzy advanced Porter's regulator to full and released his brakes. Sunny jumped on as the tank engine shot forward like a bullet, straight towards the cars that were blocking the line in front of them. Anybody but a teenager could see the gap was too narrow for them to fit through.
Unfortunately for everybody involved, Izzy was a teenager. Porter slammed into the cars and sent them flying, crashing to the side as the tank engine rolled down the next hill.
"Ooh, pretty," Porter commented. "There's a nice lighthouse up ahead that the tracks lead to."
"That's my house," Sunny said. "We can stable you in the siding outside and hopefully you can stay safe there. Sorry for such a hectic first day around Falmouth."
"Oh, so that's what this town is called!" Izzy said. "Has a nice ring to it. At least that doesn't get perpetually mispronounced, unlike some of the places where I'm from."
Izzy brought Porter to a stop and applied his brakes, leaving him sitting inside a small shed. Sunny got off the footplate first and retrieved her keys, ready to head into her house.
Sunny popped open the door and let Izzy inside, before closing the door behind her. Once they were safe, she walked backwards, keeping Izzy in sight. "Welcome to my home, such as it is. Excuse the mess. I wasn't expecting visitors!"
Izzy nodded. "It's OK. I am kinda dropping in uninvited."
Sunny indicated to a seat. "Would you like something to eat? Have you two travelled a long way?"
"Rather!" said Porter, somehow able to hear the entire conversation. "We started in Swindon!"
"Well, a little further north than that," Izzy said as she sat down. "Eugh. This is itchy. Do you mind if I get changed? This boilersuit wasn't exactly designed as casual clothing."
"Oh sure," Sunny replied. "You can use my bedroom. First room on the left after the stairs."
Izzy vanished upstairs and went to get changed, singing to herself as she went along. Sunny shook her head and prepared her notebook, as well as some pens. Once she had gotten the items, she went outdoors to speak to Porter.
"So, Porter," she said. "I was wondering if I could ask some questions."
"Fire away," Porter replied. "As long as they're not about Genesis, in which case they're all no."
Sunny glance down her list. "None about Genesis," she said. "So, first up; how are you sentient?"
Porter snorted. "What sort of a question is that? I just am. Something tells me you're not familiar with sentient railway vehicles, not that I blame you. There aren't many."
That interested Sunny, so she turned to the next page. "Could you tell me a little bit about yourself?"
"Of course," Porter replied. "I was built at Derby Works in 1929, and spent almost all of my career allocated to the docks up and down the LMS, later the Midland Region. Quite fun places to work. I was mostly used for shunting and collecting stock, as I lacked the power to work trains over a long distance."
"What happened after that?" Sunny asked.
"I was bought right out of BR service by some northern chap and taken to a place called Bury, which is somewhere to the north of here. It was there I met Izzy many years later, who was this man's daughter. I've lived there ever since, and this is probably the longest journey I've ever undertaken."
"You telling Sunny about our trip?" said a voice, that of Izzy. She had since exited the door, and was now wearing black and white shoes, white socks, a purple dress with a pleated skirt, and a deep maroon jacket. "It was quite the trip."
Sunny glanced over. "Porter mentioned you're from Bury."
"Yes. It's in Lancashire."
Sunny then had an idea. She dipped inside, and grabbed a cake and ran back out. "Eccles Cake?"
"It's a bit early, isn't it?"
"I thought all people from Lancashire ate Eccles Cakes."
"I appreciate the gesture, but I'm not a fan of raisins. They make me feel funny."
Sunny put it away. "So, what brings you down here?"
"Well," Porter started, "we were going to the Paignton and Dartmouth Railway for a special event, and went via Swindon for some routine maintenance. However, I'm pretty certain we took a wrong turn and ended up here."
"I should probably have brought a map with me," Izzy admitted. "Oh well. There's somebody coming."
Sunny walked to get a clear view of the path, and saw her father walking towards the house. "Oh no."
"Sunny?" Argyle called. "There's was some sort of commotion in town, and I couldn't find you in town. But how did this get here?"
Sunny knew her cover was blown. "Dad, I can explain-"
Argyle walked around the front of Porter and smiled. "It's been a very long time since I last saw a Non-Faceless Vehicle," he said. "What's your name?"
"Porter," the tank engine replied.
Izzy then spoke up. "Wait, you're Albert Starshine, the author of the NFV books! I'm a fan of yours!" She leaped forward. "It's great to meet you!"
"I prefer to go by Argyle, but I'm not too fussed," Argyle replied. "And you are?"
"Isabelle Moonbow, but I prefer to go by Izzy," Izzy replied. "It takes less time to say. And Sunny and I have had a great time ever since we got here!"
Sunny shook her head at Izzy as a signal to stop talking.
"Oh, you should have seen it! There were cars and people running about and rolling freight stock into our way. It was so much fun!"
Argyle facepalmed. "So it was you three that caused that commotion. Oh well, live and learn." He then saw Sunny scribbling something in her journal. "Sunny, can I speak to you in private?"
Sunny gulped. She could figure where this was going as she got up.
Once indoors, Argyle closed the door, peering at the journal. "Sunny, I know you're curious and want to learn about them, but please remember they are both people with feelings. This is also true of Porter."
"And one of the few sentient machines around!" Izzy said.
"How did you get here?" Argyle asked.
"Window was open." Izzy shrugged. "I was wondering if you guys wanted lunch. I can cook something in Porter's firebox. How hard can it be?"
"DON'T SAY THAT!" Porter said.
Argyle indicated upstairs. "Girls, I've had an idea. Follow me."
The trio trooped into Argyle's study, which was filled with maps and papers. "Ooh! Cool!" Izzy said. "I like the spooky vibes of this place!"
Argyle unrolled a map. "Many decades ago, some sort of disaster happened, and since then the number of Non-Faceless Vehicles has been falling throughout Britain. Based on my research, they are clustered in the following places." He pointed to three locations on his map. One was Sodor. Another was somewhere in the Southwest of England. And another was in the Northwest.
"Hey!" Izzy said, pointing to the top circle. "I live in that area! Maybe that's a place to look."
Argyle nodded, and stood up. "I don't normally like to keep secrets from people, but the time, I feel, has come to show you. Follow me. I'm going to introduce you to an old friend of mine."
Argyle led the two girls out of the door and round the back. The tracks, to their surprise, continued onwards round the side of the house and vanished into a tunnel.
"Don't worry," Argyle told them. "These haven't been used in decades." He then entered a tunnel, with the others following.
"What are these tracks?" Sunny asked. "I can't recall these before?"
Argyle nodded. "They were built to connect the harbour to a quarry and mine, cut deep into the cliffs. They eventually closed it when the tin got slow, but the track was never removed. You see, the landscape in the region is a little unstable. That mine is helping to hold up quite a bit of the cliff face. If it were to come down... well, we don't want to think of that."
They emerged to the other end of the tunnel, and saw a small shed sitting in front of them. "We're currently stepping over the site of the transfer sidings. The engine allocated to work the surface of the mine would place the loaded cars here. Then an engine from the harbour would come and take them away, and often leave empties to be dealt with. Then the cycle would begin again. The shed here was used to house the engine meant to shunt the sidings. It's also where we're headed."
"Is it haunted?" Izzy asked. "I love haunted things!"
"Not really," Argyle said. He sighed. "It's only haunted by my own failures."
He swung open a side door and stepped inside, before flicking on some lights inside and gesturing for the others to come through. "I brought some visitors."
Suddenly, all was revealed.
Sitting inside the shed was a small, fairly squat diesel. It had six wheels with coupling rods, and a cab mounted much of the way to the back. However, the rear of the frames was occupied by a bonnet, and the front of the frames also housed a bonnet, in which the engine presumably sat. The cab was quite substancial, suggesting this engine had been built for use in a place with quite a large loading guage. Some tanks hung under the running board, and some wobbly cab steps were positioned under the cab doors. But this wasn't what was most surprising.
The engine spoke. "Ahoy there, Argyle. I was wonderin' if you'd bring any mateys."
He did look a bit rusty. His paint had clearly seen better days.
Sunny stepped around the front, remembering what her dad had said. "What's your name?"
"I be Salty, ma'am!" the diesel replied. "Former pride of Falmouth Docks, then wound up somewhere further east."
"He's a British Railways Class 07," Argyle explained. "He had a lucky escape. At the end of his working life he was due to be scrapped, but he suffered a hot bearing whilst being towed, and they simply dumped him in a siding. I found him, arranged for him to be moved here, and I've been working on him ever since."
"That was about 30 years ago," Salty explained. "I last ran in the 1970s."
"It's been slow, frustrating work," Argyle admitted. "Getting spares out here has been quite hard."
Sunny took one look at the engine. "I'm not too much of an expert on diesel engines, but you could at least try to start the engine? That might help establish what else needs doing?"
"That's risky," Argyle replied. "I haven't completely rebuilt the engine. I managed to replace most of the electricals, but the engine is still mostly original parts."
"I say it's worth a try," Salty said. "Even if only limited, there's only so long a sea dog like me can be kept down."
"I also don't think Porter could tow him up the local grades," Izzy added. "Assuming we were to try and take him to an engineering facility."
Argyle nodded. "Alright. I'll give it a try. But be on hand to cut the power if anything goes wrong. OK?"
The two girls nodded as Argyle climbed into the cab. "Could one of you add some diesel fuel to the tank?"
Sunny picked up the nearby can and opened the hatch. She then tipped some into the tank, making sure to add enough to get the engine started.
Argyle then reached down and turned the starter key. The starter circuit fired up, and the familiar sound of an engine trying to start filled the shed. It stayed this way for several seconds than stopped.
Argyle moved the key back and tried again. The same result occurred, with the engine trying to start, but not quite getting there before stopping. "Are you sure we should be doing this?" he asked.
"One last try, Argyle," Salty said. "There be an old seaman's story that says a sailor had to strike a match to fire a cannon. The first two failed, but the third succeeded and saved the ship."
Argyle nodded, and turned the key one last time. After some brief revving, there was a change in note.
And that very moment Salty's engine roared into life, producing a very distinctive bass rumble as it reverberated through the room.
"Hooray!" Izzy cheered. "He runs!"
Argyle was astonished. "This is remarkable," he said. "It's good to have you running Salty, but I still don't want to risk anything. Nobody use more than 40% power until I can get the engine completely rebuilt, understand?"
The others nodded. Then Sunny spoke up. "Dad," she said. "I have an idea. How about we go to those places mentioned in your books and the sources you found, and try and somehow bring the magic back?"
"That's a great idea!" Izzy said, and hugged Sunny. "We can set off tomorrow, and explore Britain, and enjoy some great food and have crazy adventures! This is gonna be great!"
There was a cough. "You two aren't going anywhere on your own," Argyle said.
"But Dad, this could be our only chance to restore the magic!"
"I never said you weren't going at all. You aren't going anywhere on your own... because I'll be coming with you."
The next morning dawned, and the lighthouse at the end of the harbour rang to the sound of preparations. Argyle was busy making sandwiches for their journey, and consulting track diagrams to ensure that they could safely make their way out of the harbour and onto the main line. Sunny was at work in the workshop, busy oiling Salty's parts and mechanical components to ensure he could run properly over the track. This include ensuring his lubricators and roller bearings were properly topped up. After all, it would not help anybody if their engines suffered hot boxes and blocked the line.
Izzy was doing the same for Porter. She had been out of bed since four in the morning to get Porter's fire up to temperature. Thankfully, it seems as though her efforts had payed off, and Porter was producing a nice head of steam. She released his brakes and moved him off the siding. Steam whooshed from his cylinder cocks as he reversed onto the main track, before stopping on the other side of the switch.
"We're ready for you!" she called out.
Moments later, a rumbling sound started up from the tunnel, and within a few moments a light was visible. Salty emerged from the gloom of the tunnel a few seconds later, his engine rumbling quietly (though still not completely settled) before he came to a stop. He groaned as he came to a stop. "This lubrication is taking a while to work!" he said. "I feel very stiff indeed."
"You won't need to do all the work alone," Sunny told him. "Porter's here to help. That way we can spread the load as we run along, as even at full power you're not the fastest of engines."
"I was only meant for shunting," Salty noted.
Argyle emerged from the house with the preparations complete. "We should be good to go!" he called, as he hopped onboard. "I'll set the switches so we can get up to the station, and then we can begin our journey to Truro."
"What's there?" Salty asked.
"The mainline junction," Porter explained. "Hopefully we won't get lost this time."
Izzy simply nodded as she buffered Porter up. Sunny secured the couplings, and within a few minutes they were on their way. They steamed into the station up the steep slope from yesterday, and Argyle changed the points.
The long journey began up the slope, battling against some very steep gradients. Salty's limited engine power meant Porter was doing much of the work. Having said that, the repeated blasts from a steam engine and the growl of a diesel engine did produce a quite spectacular sound.
People who were near the lineside turned out to see this most unusual sight. Porter was leading, but running bunker first, so Izzy had more restricted visibility than usual. In comparison, Salty had a cab radio, so he was important for communicating with signalmen and lineside crew.
At last, they pulled up at Truro, and after an express worked by an HST flew past they were cleared to continue their run. With puffing and a growling engine, the duo accessed the mainline. They were truly on their way, and as the Cornish landscape rolled past Sunny stuck her head out of the cab. "Izzy?" she called.
"Yes?" Izzy replied.
"I feel a song coming on!"
"You know what? Me too!" Izzy replied.
Porter rolled his eyes. "When did this become a musical?"
"Around Season 19," Salty replied.
Izzy led off. "Up ahead is a sky growing dark/ Where it leads is a big question mark! And I'm scared that I'll end up A pony gone missing from Pegasus-ing!"
"That is not a word," Porter said.
Sunny then joined in. "But you're not alone You got a buddy in your crew!"
"I do?" Izzy asked.
Sunny then resumed singing duties. "I'm lookin' out for you When you're off track- I got your back! You can rely on me, I'm lookin' out for you."
She then took a short pause. "Back at home, it just humans first- Heard it so many times, I could burst And I fought for a change, but it's lonely- 'Cause, you know, party of uno!"
"Well. that's not quite true-" Argyle started, but was interrupted by Izzy.
"Well, if you need a friendly steed Like you-know-who-"
"I think I do!"
"I'm lookin' out for you!" the girls sang together.
"I'm lookin' out!" added several mysterious disembodied voices.
"Where did all these disembodied voices come from?" Salty asked.
"It's a musical, don't ask," Porter sighed. "I can only hope they don't start singing Genesis."
"When you're off track!"
("When you're off track!")
"I got your back!"
("I got your back!")
The two girls rejoined together, now singing in two part harmony.
"You can rely on me I'm lookin' out for you!"
("I'm lookin' out!")
The vocals now bounced between Sunny and Izzy, before rejoining in harmony.
"Lost in the hills!"
("Lost in the hills!")
"I got the skills!"
("I got the skills!")
"Starting your quest!"
("Starting your quest!")
"Makes you feel stressed!"
("Makes you feel stressed!")
"Buddy, it helps knowin' I'm lookin' out for you!"
("I'm lookin' out!")
"You blaze a trail!"
("You blaze a trail!")
"I'll watch your tail!"
("I'll watch your tail!")
"Pony, let's get goin' Get goin', get goin'-"
Suddenly, the chord finished building, as Sunny launched off into a descending sequence that sounded oddly like a harmony part.
"I'm lookin' oooooout!"
The disembodied choir echoed this, whilst singing their own section.
""I'm lookin' out for you- I'll go where you're goin' to/ It's all that I want to do/ I, I, I!")
The two leads then joined together. In harmony.
"I'm lookin' oooooout!"
("I'm lookin' out for you I'll go where you're goin' to It's all that I want to do I am lookin' out...")
The to end: "...for you!"
Argyle added something as they rolled to a stop in a station. "Your voices go very well together. You should consider recording an album."
"Thanks!" Izzy said. "Well, we're at Wareham already! That shows one of the benefits of musical numbers. They let us skip a lot of the boring bits of travel."
"If only that trick worked with engineering works," Sunny sighed. "Where are we?"
"Well," Argyle said, consulting his map, "we're at Wareham, which is the junction for one of the places I marked. It's a small town called Swanage, so I suggest we reverse down the branch and pull up at the next station to get some directions."
"There are a lot of exotic place names around here," Salty said. "Castle Cary, Dorchester. This is a world that is new to me!"
"Same here, mate," Porter replied, as they ran down the line to the next station, a place called Norden. Once they had parked up, Argyle hopped out to use the station telephone.
Moments later, there was a loud horn in the distance. "What was that?" Porter asked.
Izzy hopped off the footplate and pointed in shock. "Oh no!"
"What's happening?" Sunny asked.
A voice was audible in the distance. "GET OUT OF MY WAY! I'M AN EXPRESS TRAIN!"
A passenger train was bearing down on their position, and was going much too fast to stop.
"Where are they?" Hitch demanded of the others.
"They must have slipped away during the morning," said one CCF member. "We can't find any trace of them. It's possible they and the engine were heading away from our location for safety reasons."
"Safety or not, they caused a lot of chaos in the docks yesterday," Hitch replied. "And not only that, Sunny was helping them. She's gone completely loopy, I know it." He clenched his fist and began to speak to himself. "Sunny, Sunny, Sunny, Sunny. You think you've escaped? Well, think again." He paused. "I will not eat! I will not sleep! Well, maybe a quick nap and a snack if I can't find you in the next few hours. But after that, nothing will stop me! I'll follow you wherever you go. Whether harshest deserts, the coldest tundras, no trail too dangerous, no clue too small. The past matters not! It's justice. Neither snow nor hail nor sleet nor gloom of night will prevent me from carrying out my duties to the Crown."
"Are you feeling alright?" Sprout asked.
Hitch fired up his quadbike, which rumbled obediantly into life. "I'm putting you in charge until I get back," he said. "Don't do anything stupid whilst I'm away, and just keep order until I return, got it?"
"Yes Sargeant!" Sprout replied, and saluted.
Hitch glanced back. "You've risen to the rank of Corporal and still don't know you don't salute a non-commissioned officer? Give me a break." He set the gears and after a quick brake check roared away over the hills, the engine producing a fair deal of noise and smoke as he flew up the road."
Sprout turned around. "Let's go!" he said. "I've been tasked with keeping order, and order I shall keep!"
The train in front of them got closer and closer. It continously blasted its horn as it approached. "OUT OF THE WAY! PASSENGERS INCOMING!"
Izzy put Porter into forward gear as Sunny desperately tried to get Salty moving. As she moved the power handle, Salty's engine coughed, then spluttered, then stopped completely.
"No no no no no! This couldn't happen at a worse moment!"
Porter's brakes had finally released, and he began to shift both his own weight and the weight of the diesel engine attached to him. "This is incredibly heavy!" he groaned, gradually sliding forward.
The screeching of brakes approached them from the near distance as the diesel got closer and closer.
Izzy looked behind her to see that the passenger train, whilst slowing down, may not be able to stop in time. "All or nothing, Porter!" she called.
"Move, you piece of junk!" Porter said loudly. He had moved off just in time. The passenger train screeched to a complete stop in front of them, the diesel looking at them with a look of annoyance. There was a gap of only a few inches between them and the buffers.
"What were you doing, you blithering idiots?" he snapped. "Don't you know this platform is for passenger and priority traffic only?"
He was a fairly short diesel. He had two bogies with a short frame connecting them, and was painted dark blue with the British Railways 'arrows of indecision' on his bodywork. His front ends were entirely yellow, apart from bands of black paint around the windows and grey roof paint. He bore the number 33021, and two nameplates were attached. These read Captain Charles and were set with silver text and lining on red backing.
Sunny got off Salty's footplate to speak. "We're sorry," she said. "We had no idea this was an active line, and didn't know a passenger train was coming."
The door of Captain Charles' cab opened, and a young woman stepped out. She had whitish skin combined with piercing blue eyes. Atop her head sat a rather spectacular updo of hair, in the colours purple and light blue. At this moment in time she wore black boots, grey slacks, a greyish blue long sleeved shirt, and a dark blue parka jacket on top of that.
"I'll take it from here, Charles," she said, and walked towards the duo. "So, what brings you two to the Isle of Purbeck?"
"Wait, you're not mad?" Izzy said.
"What does getting mad achieve?" the girl replied. "Accidents happen. You gotta dust yourself down, and chalk it up to experience. What matters is we learn from them." She extended her hand. "Zipp Storm."
"Sunny Starscout," Sunny replied, and shook the hand. "I must admit I've never met a person called Zipp before!"
"It's a nickname," Zipp replied. "It's really Zara, but frankly I don't like the name."
Moments later, Argyle returned. "We should be good to go," he said. "Swanage is a few miles that... way..."
He trailed off when he saw the passenger train sat in the platform, with several passengers leaning out of the windows and asking to find out what was going on.
"What happened here?"
"These nincompoops are sitting in the platform!" Charles complained. "Can't they see we have a railway to run?"
"We can always move out of your way," Salty suggested. "We can let you move off your train and run round, and we can couple to the back and ride down to Swanage."
"That seems sensible," Zipp said. "You guys had best get moving if we're gonna leave on time."
Luckily, the highly complex runround move was finished by the time they had to depart. Izzy dampened Porter's fire down, and with Salty's brakes released the highly strange train could at last move off. Charles groaned and roared as he shifted the cargo down the line. "I really should do less manual labour. Officers don't work, after all."
The others had decided to ride with Zipp in the cab, who was able to maintain a conversation with them despite focusing on driving down the hill. "So, what brings you to Dorset?" she asked. "And with engines no less?"
"Oh, holiday," Argyle said quickly. "We're from Cornwall, and fancied visiting a new part of the world."
"That's nice," Zipp said. "Are these your kids?"
"No," Argyle replied. "Only Sunny's mine. Izzy is a family friend of ours."
Charles suddenly chimed in. "Pipp is elsewhere, and the line is quiet. Still, could be worse."
After some time travelling, and some extensive shunting required to get the engines attached to the rear to a safe position, Charles and his train pulled to a stop in the station at Swanage. "Home sweet home! We've arrived at last!"
Zipp secured the train in place before stepping out onto the platform. "Welcome to Swanage," she said. "It's home to myself and the engines of the Swanage Railway, as well as my other family members and... other things."
Izzy spoke up next. "Do you have any siblings?"
Zipp indicated in the direction of a nearby field. A distinct noise was coming from the viscinity, with the sound of rather generic synth pop designed to be as innofensive as possible, and by logical extension rather bland.
"So put your hands up high 'Cause we're feeling all right! (Hey!) Every day is awesome in Swa- Nage Bay! So put your hands up, put your hands up! (Hey!)
"Everything is gonna be OK!"
"Nah, nah, hey/ Down in the bay! Nah, nah, hey! (Woo!) It's gonna be OK!" (Yeah!)
Zipp shrugged her shoulders. "Lyrics could do with some work. Wordsetting was never Pipp's strong suit, but she's too full of herself to realise."
"Pipp?"
"That's her name," Zipp continued. "Her full name is Philippa, but she goes by Pipp as it takes less time to say. I don't really share much in common with her."
Sunny could sense that their relationship was strained, but had no chance to continue the conversation as another figure appeared on the platform. The figure was a much older woman who had pinkish skin and bluish hair that seemed to be greying in places. The group had difficulty establishing her age. She could have been forty or fifty.
She was currently wearing a purple suit with some wing embellishments on it.
"Ah, Zipp, there you are!" she said. "And you've brought friends as well!"
"Hey mom," Zipp replied. "I need to go park Charles and his coaches before finishing up for the day."
"Go ahead!" the woman said. She then turned her attention to the new group. "Elizabeth Haven, General Manager of the Swanage Railway. I was already notified of your unusual arrival earlier. May I ask your names?"
"Argyle Starshine."
"Sunny Starscout."
"Izzy Moonbow." Izzy then bowed. "Most grand and excellent salutations your excellentness."
Haven shrugged. "Interesting. The two engines you brought with you can stay here for now."
"Is it possible if your engineers could take a look at the Class 07?" Sunny asked. "His engine's not in the best of shape."
"A sentient engine," Haven said. "Well, that's five. We have three. And of course! We can take a look at the engine and get him better than new!"
The song in the background had changed to another piece of generic synth pop.
"Isn't she sounding marvellous?" Haven smiled. "Pipp really is a marvellous musician. I couldn't ask for a better daughter."
This only seemed to be corroborating what Zipp had said earlier. Presumably this was the source of much of the tension between the two siblings.
Haven then went on. "Now then, I imagine that you three are pretty hungry. Luckily, I know a place that would be perfect for fixing your hunger. The Bridge Street Cafe does a superb evening menu, but I do warn you that there is a dress code." She looked at the two girls. "You both look to be about Pipp's size, so you can borrow some of her spare dresses for the evening. I trust you can provide a suit, Argyle?"
"Does a boilersuit count?"
"Unfortunately, no. This is not the Trackside Bar, after all. But I think my husband will let you borrow one of his." She snapped her fingers. "I just need to get locked up here, and then we can be on our way!"
Sunny looked to Izzy. "Something's not quite right here. She's being way too friendly to us."
"Maybe she just likes having guests!" Izzy replied.
Zipp then appeared, walking up the platform having finished dealing with the coaches. "What's cookin'?" she asked. "How was mom?"
"Oh, lovely," Argyle said. "She's invited us out to dinner. I imagine you may be wanted to."
"Huh, I'm cool with that," Zipp replied. "I often cook for myself, but it can be nice to relax after a long day on the rails. Where did they say?"
"Bridge Street Cafe, wherever that is," Sunny said.
The colour drained from Zipp's face as she heard that. "Oh no."
To say that the girls looked ridiculous was something of an understatement. Contrary to what Haven had said, their new clothes didn't really fit them very well. Sunny looked OK, I guess, but Izzy seemed to have settled into her gown well enough. It wasn't that Sunny was opposed to wearing dresses, it was just that they weren't her first choice of clothing on a given day.
The same was not true of Zipp. "I don't understand why I need to wear this," she moaned. "I look like an iced cake."
"I somehow get the impression that Zipp doesn't like skirts," Izzy said to Sunny.
"I don't," Zipp replied. When Izzy glanced back, she continued. "I have good hearing. This thing seriously limits my movement. Why couldn't Pipp have done this? She loves playing dress up."
The motley crew wandered down the street, and whilst they did Sunny took a familiar book out of her bag and took a look inside. There was a sketch of some sort of device consisting of numerous things.
"See these?" she said to Izzy. "These all look pretty familiar. And if dad's guesses are right, we should find one of them around here somewhere."
"And we'll be one step closer to completing our goal!" Izzy said with a smile.
In that moment, it seemed as though both of them had forgotten Zipp was behind them. "That looks familiar."
Sunny suddenly slammed the book shut. "It's not what it-"
"Relax, I wasn't going to critique your drawing skills," Zipp joked. "I have some information on that thing that may interest you, but I'll have to tell you later. You never know who's listening." She indicated to Haven and Argyle, both of whom seemed to be in a relatively relaxed conversation which worked right against how poshly they were dressed.
"So," Haven asked him. "What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a university lecturer. I specialise in photography. I'm based at the University of Falmouth, and have been for years."
"I'm keen to dispell a lot of the rumours of laziness that surround my line of life," Haven replied. "Being a duchess doesn't have all the bells and whistles a lot of people expect."
Argyle's jaw dropped. "My humblest apologies, your ladyship," he said. "Had I known we would be meeting aristocracy I would not have arrived in so tardy an attire. Please do forgive me."
Haven laughed. "I'm pretty casual about that sort of thing. Besides, we all have to work for a living. My husband makes his selling cheese produced on our estate, as well as use of some of the money our family has stored up. Me? The life of a railway manager was a perfect fit, as it meant I could stay in Swanage and more easily keep an eye on my daughters." She pointed up. "Ah! Here we are! The Bridge Street Cafe, the best place in town for authentic jazz."
As she opened the door, the crew were beset with the wondrous sounds of trumpets and saxaphones, incredibly complex harmonies, and impressive virtuosity.
As the pianist launched off into an elaborate solo, the collection of people sat down at a table for five (which Haven had pre-booked for their benefit). "Some of the best music in tone can be enjoyed here," she said happily. "Nothing beats Big Band on a Friday night. The railway sometimes has jazz festivals too, which are always well booked out."
"I must make sure to attend one such session," Argyle said. "I used to be a pretty good saxophonist in the day. Then life came along and changed that. Oh well."
The three girls were sat on the same side, and looked over the menu in surprise. "What do any of these words mean?" Izzy asked. "Are they French?"
"Italian mostly," Zipp replied, looking thoroughly out of place with her hairdo.
"Hey, they have some stuff here that looks pretty normal," Sunny noted, trying to fit in with the talk. "The shrimp with grits looks surprisingly good. Prices seem reasonable too."
The silence was suddenly interrupted by somebody appearing at the door. "Good evening Pippsqueaks!"
Zipp sighed. "Let's hope she doesn't notice us."
A girl with pink skin and purple wavy hair had just entered the room, and from the looks of it had just walked in from a rehearsal for a musical. She was clad in a white sleeveless dress with a white and yellow skirt which was, shall we say, rather puffy. She bounced over to the table with excitement. "Hi mom! Brought some friends?"
"Hello darling," Haven said with a smile. "How did it go?"
"The practice?" Pipp replied. "Oh, it went great. We should be good to go tonight."
Sunny found herself beginning to doubt Zipp's narrative. Pipp seemed rather normal, all things considered. She had little time to react when Zipp suddenly spoke. "Oh bother!"
Everybody looked over to the source of the commotion. Zipp had 'spilled' something down her clothes.
"I need to get this cleaned up," she said, and walked away.
"We'll see if she's OK," Sunny said, and she and Izzy popped away from the table to follow the other girl.
They followed her down the steps where Zipp abruptly stopped and turned to them. "The distraction worked," she said. "You know the information I mentioned? Well, the thing you're looking for from that drawing is in Pipp's tiara. If my guesses are right, you should be able to sneak in tonight during the concert and get it off the tiara."
She picked up a small jewel. "You can pop this into the tiara when you've pulled the other one out."
"We're gonna need a distraction if we're gonna pull this off," Sunny said, checking behind her to see if anybody was listening.
"Charles and I can provide a pretty good distraction for you guys," Zipp replied. "And the loud music should hopefully drown out any noise you make. Good luck."
The fact that there were other options never seemed to cross Zipp's mind.
The people, and members of the CCF, had gathered at the barracks to wait and here what the temporary leader had to say about the situation. With them also was the Mayor, Cloverleaf, who also seemed to be a bit impatient.
Moments later, the door opened, pushed open by Sprout. "Ladies and gentleme-"
The door suddenly swung back, slamming into his face.
"OW!"
A few seconds of awkward silence passed, before Sprout opened the door again. He had rather gone to town with the entire 'temporary command' thing, now being clad in a uniform more fitting of a general than a corporal.
"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Falmouth," he said. "We find ourselves in a time of regional emergency. Only a few days ago, strange things began happening. That metal monster appeared and kidnapped Sunny and her father, and has vanished to who knows where. Hitch has set off in pursuit of it, and in the meantime he left me in charge."
He coughed before continuing. "These are difficult times, I will conceed. But as a nation we have faced tougher. And as your glorious leader, I will see you through to the bitter end! We shall triumph victorious over those who would leech our nation and defend the monsters who seek to take our country apart! Our country will emerge glorious!"
Electric guitars started up in the background as Sprout donned a peaked cap and approached the crowd. "Now is not the time to be complacent, people! We should do something!"
And as virtually every character before him at this point, he switched to conveying his message in song.
"Something is lurking, something is near; Something is feeling 'stranger, stranger'! Stirring up discord, whipping up fear; Whispering softly, "danger, danger!"
"Outsiders creep up slow and steady Teeth glistening, guns at the ready Think what they could do to the status quo?"
"Oh no!" Phyllis added, in an incredibly high pitched voice.
Sprout decided he would look into how everybody spontaneously knew the words to all the songs that started playing.
For now he went back to conveying his message through song.
"They're gonna steal, plunder, and pillage; They're gonna take over the village! Don't just sit on your butts and do nothing and wait- Let's enter a blind, irrational state!"
Ever keen for a theatrical touch, he stepped forward with flourishes.
Better get nervous, better get tense; Better not let them catch you blinking! You don't need a reason, kiddos and gents! This is no time for sober thinking!"
"Mob!"
Somebody in the crowd finally got the idea. "Mob?"
"M- M- Mob, mob!" Sprout answered, sounding like a tape that had gotten stuck.
"Mob?"
"Mob?"
"Angry, angry mob!" Sprout smiled. His plan to stoke their fear and anger was working.
"Mob, m- m- mob, mob! Mob, mob, angry, angry!"
Sprout decided to impart more information to his followers.
"Sharpen your senses, sharpen your tongues; Sharpen your moral indignation! Gather in groups and ready your lungs; Holler with pent-up aggravation!"
This time, the assembled crowd did the work for him, getting even more infuriated than Sprout thought was possible.
Sprout indicated to the members of the CCF to move to the front of the crowd, to indicate what to do next. Once they had finished moving, he turned back and looked at the crowd. Some emotional manipulation was in order.
"Fight, see in black and white That's your human right Time to lift your heads and proudly-
Throng, numbers make you strong Millions can't be wrong Especially when they're screaming loudly!"
"You might not have a bale of hay to borrow Are you saddled with your sorrow? Are you scared about tomorrow?"
Sprout answered before anybody could answer.
"Well, it's all gonna work out painlessly If you follow my orders brainlessly!"
Sprout wasn't completely convinced the crowd had it. So a bit of call and response served as a good test. "Who are we?"
"We're an angry mob!" the crowd bellowed.
"What are we?"
"We're an angry mob!" the crowd bellowed.
Sprout decided to do another test, to see if these people were as brainless as he thought. "Look at this corn!"
"It's on the cob!"
And then a truly silly one. "Look at that guy!" Sprout called.
A man in a grey suit with a fedora hat looked up from a table where he was drinking a cup of coffee. "Uh, my name's Rob."
With that signal, Sprout was confident. He signalled for the troops and the crowd to move off. Before long, a gigantic assembly of people were marching through the streets of Falmouth, singing and bellowing loudly.
After a few minutes, they had arrived at the council building, and the crowd remained outside whilst Sprout, Phyllis, and several soldiers went inside. The Council Chamber was currently full as a meeting was happening. The councillors looked over to the interruption. "Didn't you see the notice on the door?"
"There are going to be a few changes around here," Phyllis said, ominously.
Sprout took this as his cue. "Owing to recent circumstances and the failure of the town to protect our own, I hereby invoke the Defence of the Realm Act. Therefore, I am immediately taking control of all organs of local government, press, and economy."
The first councillor looked amused. "Nice try, little boy, but playing soldier isn't going to get you anywhere. Where is your authority?"
Sprout signalled to his followers. In perfect sync, the soldiers levelled their weapons at the council, whilst Sprout produced a revolver.
"They are my authority."
The councillors hastily evacuated the chamber.
"Well, that wasn't so hard," Phyllis said. "Finally, things can be run properly around here."
One of the soldiers glanced over to Sprout. "Sir, I thought it was an offence to carry firemarms in this room."
Sprout smiled. "It's an offence to carry loaded firearms in this room. There's no rule saying you can't have empty ones in here."
A very long distance away, Sunny and Izzy waited for the cue. The music had started up on stage, and pop was blazing across the speakers.
"Hey, she's got a great voice," Izzy commented. "She should do an album. iTunes is a thing."
"Stay focused," Sunny said. "We've only got one shot at this." She picked up a radio. "Zipp, how are you doing?"
"I've got Charles into position. Ready to commence distraction. Try to time it with the chorus starting."
"We don't fly like we used to, we take what we've been through/ And we can feel brand new..."
"Stand by," Sunny said.
"We got the light, we're comin' in stronger-"
"Now."
A few moments later, Zipp shunted Charles' throttle to full power. The roar could be heard from several miles away, and succeeded in drawing a few heads away.
"That's our ticket in!" Izzy said, and they dashed into the stage. They sped down the corridor and turned to the left to find the dressing rooms.
"Zipp said Pipp's was the second one on the left," Sunny said, and they pushed open the door. They found their way into a rather unremarkable room, filled with the usual things a popstar would need before performing. Sitting there was the tiara, which Sunny swiped and put into a bag.
"Object recovered. On the way to extraction point." The duo exited the room and turned... to see a familiar face.
"Ooh!" Izzy said. "It's the army guy from Falmouth!"
"Hitch?" Sunny said. "What are you doing here?"
Hitch stepped forward, trying to block them. "Sunny, you are under arrest, as are those engines for abduction."
Sunny dodged round him and sprinted down the corridor, taking a detour through what looked to be a tech room. There was a computer monitor showing the current concert, and a machine that seemed to be regulating some elaborate and cable effects, creating the illusion Pipp was floating with wings.
Hitch dived to try and tackle the duo, but Sunny kicked open the door and made her escape, followed by Izzy seconds later. Hitch fell to the floor and smashed into the machine, which began to smoke, and the lights on stage went haywire.
Izzy and Sunny sprinted away from the concert area as complete chaos broke out, and soon found themselves back in Swanage Station. Zipp had already coupled Charles to Porter and Salty, and cracked open the throttle to get the train moving.
The two girls jumped onto their respective engines as they rattled out of the platform.
"Well?" Zipp asked.
"Mission accomplished!" Sunny said.
Little did any of them spot Hitch in the yard, looking for any way of chasing them. He looked around one wall and saw a large, boxy engine sitting there. "Perfect," he said. "This seems to be working."
Charles rattled to a stop in Norden station, with the other two engines in tow behind him. "That plan worked!" he said. "My genius... it scares me sometimes."
Zipp stopped his engine and hopped out of the cab, running back to the others. "Did you get it?" she asked.
Sunny hopped out of Salty's cab and showed the object. "Got it! We're one step closer to restoring the magic!"
"Hooray!" Izzy added.
Salty spoke up. "Erm, I hate to interrupt the landlubbers, but there seems to be a mighty squall coming in on the radio."
Sunny hopped back in the cab and took up the receiver. "Hello?"
A very familiar voice spoke on the other end. "Sunny? Where are you?"
"I'm at Norden. We're getting ready to move off, if you'd like to join us."
"You stay right there. Pipp and I are heading up here on another engine. I'll deal with you then." The line then closed.
Sunny looked back. "Dad didn't sound too happy. Guess we'll wait and see what's going on."
"I take it things didn't go to plan," Porter said.
"Probably not," Charles said. "Still, could be worse."
Just then, a strange spluttering and crashing started up from behind them. A large steam locomotive rattled into the loop next to them. It had a very strange, boxy shape, rather like a tin of spam. It had four leading wheels, six driving wheels, and two trailing wheels, all of them having holes in them like pieces of swiss cheese. It also had a very strangely shaped, angular tender. The wheels and frames were painted black, but the main box and the tender were painted green with three horizontal yellow stripes. The tender bore the legend BRITISH RAILWAYS in yellow text, and the cabside had the number 34022. The engine also had no nameplates.
The engine spluttered to a stop. "I did tell you I was a bit out of puff!" she said, in an accent which was the last thing you'd expect to hear from an engine of the Southern Railway.
Charles rolled his eyes. "She's from the wrong side of the Pennines," he grumbled.
Hitch clambered out of the cab of this engine. "Last time I take a ride on one of those," he grumbled. His uniform was completely smeared in black soot, and he was covered from head to toe in coal dust.
"Who's the chimney sweep?" Izzy asked.
"It's Hitch," Hitch replied. "And you two are in a lot of trouble."
Seconds after that, another engine arrived at the loop, pulling in behind the others. It appeared to be the same class as Charles, but was instead painted in two tone red and black with blue blobs and bore the number 33102. The nameplate read Sophie.
"Did you have a nice ride?" the diesel asked its occupants as they got out. They were Argyle and Pipp, the latter of whom had changed into something more practical.
Argyle said nothing. He climbed across the track, up into Salty, walked through the cab, and onto the platform.
Sunny's heart sank at his facial expression. Argyle never raised his voice or shouted at her. Instead, he had what she termed 'the look'. And he was giving right now.
"Was it worth it?" he asked.
"Was what worth it?"
"Seriously, what were you thinking?" he asked. "Not only did you cause mayhem at the field in Swanage, you stole from somebody! I shouldn't have to explain to you that stealing is wrong."
Sunny had no response. She felt rotten.
To her surprise, Zipp spoke next. "It was my idea, sir. I suggested they try the plan, as I figured Pipp wouldn't notice that we'd swapped the parts around."
"Well, I did," Pipp said, not looking hugely happy either. "Thanks to you lot, the concert got ruined! You left me hanging and turned my life upside down! Literally!" She paused. "It's destroyed my reputation, and over what? Some silly crystal?"
"You didn't really think this one through, did you?" Porter said.
Nobody responded. They all knew Porter was right.
Sunny glanced up. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
Pipp heard this, and nodded. "I accept this apology, but I still don't trust you," she said. "Or you," she added, pointedly glaring at her sister. "Just what is so special about this crystal anyway?"
"You know how these engines have faces?" Izzy said.
"Yeah?"
"Well, this crystal was part of a device that once powered the means by which all engines were sentient. But it was broken long ago, and the bits were scattered. We're trying to reunite them and get the magic back together!"
Pipp had a brainwave. "Hey. If I help you guys, it could fix my own reputation. As you can see, I have my own engine, so I can definitely keep up."
"Well, it's settled then," Argyle said. "We continue on our path. The next one was somewhere in Lancashire."
"I'm only coming on one condition," Pipp said. "Any further bits of this device thingy need to be won fairly, without theft."
"Deal," Zipp replied.
Hitch sighed. "I guess I'm coming along too. And Rebecca."
"Who?"
"That's me!" the steam engine said. "I'm a West Country, or Spam Can to some. I may have somewhat slippy wheels and may need a few repairs, but I can definitely help you out."
The various people took their positions, ready to head off into the night.
The next morning, Sunny awoke to the smell of cooking from somewhere. She sat up from her seat and dropped out of the cab onto the ground. She soon followed the smell to the origin source, soon finding Izzy cooking something in Porter's firebox.
"Morning!" Izzy chirped. "Fancy cooked breakfast at Gas Mark 15?"
"What you cooking, and where are we?" Sunny asked.
"We're parked in a goods loop at Crewe, and I've got some eggs on the shovel at the moment. I'll be putting the bacon on once this is done, and after that some black pudding if any of you want that."
Sunny nodded. "I'd like that."
Safe to say, the cooked breakfast helped to restore the crew's spirits. Except perhaps Pipp, who complained about greasy food possibly ruining her figure.
"Relax," Zipp smiled, as she bit into a bacon sandwich. "A bit of bacon every now and then won't hurt you."
Hitch noted Sunny looking slightly down as she sat there. "You feeling OK?" he asked.
"No," Sunny replied.
"What's wrong?" Hitch said. "You can tell me."
Sunny sighed. "I haven't told the others, but part of the reason for setting off on this journey was because... I was getting tired of being seen as a crackpot. I wanted friends who accepted me for who I actually was, not saw me as a nuisance."
"Whatever makes you think I thought you were a nuisance?" Hitch said. "That's an entirely understandable sentiment, Sunny. Truth be told we all want friends who love us for being who we are. But would it have really hurt you to have been honest about it?"
"Arr, it's alright," Salty said suddenly, parked on a nearby siding. "I know how to raise our spirits."
"How?" Pipp asked. "Does it involve music?"
"Yes. I know many songs." Salty closed his eyes. "There once was a ship that put to sea/ The name of the ship was the Billy of Tea! The winds blew up, her bow dipped down/ Oh blow, my bully boys, blow (huh)!"
"Hey, I know this one!" Izzy said. "It was a meme on TikTok not long ago! Come on, guys!"
"This is preposterous," Charles complained. But nobody listened to him.
"Soon may the Wellerman come/ To bring us sugar and tea and rum! One day, when the tonguing is done/ We'll take our leave and go!"
Several minutes passed, and once they were done with their sing song (which Pipp recorded and put on social media), it was time to reassemble the train in preparation for the departure towards Lancashire. The engines began to move about to assemble the new train.
Porter was to be placed in front of a fuel tanker which was carrying some diesel fuel for the trio of diesel engines. Charles was positioned behind it, and was calling Porter in. "Watch your approach speed, Porter!"
Unfortunately, a passing express obscured Charles' words, rendering Porter unable to hear. He reversed, and reversed...
and collided with the tanker with a bang. It slammed into Charles, which caused part of the tank to crack.
To say Charles was annoyed was an understatement. "PORTER, YOU IDIOT! YOU'VE REVERSED INTO THE FUEL TANKER!"
Sophie and Pipp began laughing as Charles continued grumbling. "You've broken it. Nice work."
"I didn't know that was there!" Porter protested. "Honestly, that was an accident." To try and minimise the annoyance the other felt, Porter chose to leave.
"Don't just steam off, Porter!" Charles boomed. "Porter? PORTER!"
Salty sighed. "Not a shipshape operation, this," he sighed.
"There's plenty of time to patch it up," Sunny replied, as she took her position in the secondman's position.
It was a rainy afternoon when the cavalcade pulled to a stop in the platform. On the train was our familiar group of heroes, who looked pretty tired and battered from the incredibly long journey.
"I could do with a shower," Sunny said. "I'm not usually one to fuss over personal appearance, but I suspect I do smell a bit."
"You don't smell at all!" Salty said.
"Thanks Salty."
"Forget a shower!" Pipp said. "I could do with a manicure."
"Is that really your first priority?" Zipp asked, looking a bit surprised. "We've gone a long way from home and that's what you want?"
"Long distance running is no reason to not look fabulous," Pipp retorted over the radio, and then blew raspberries.
Zipp rolled her eyes. "Gee, how childish."
Izzy, however, seemed pretty cheerful. "Hey!" she said. "We're in Heywood! We're not far from home now!"
"Where is your home?" Argyle asked.
"In that housing estate over there," Izzy smiled. "It's great being back in this place!"
"Where precisely are we?" Charles asked. "This is all very northern."
"Heywood," Izzy explained, "is a town in Greater Manchester. It's not far from Bury either, so we're good to go for major settlement visits."
"Weren't Blur from here?" Sophie asked.
"They're from London," Pipp said. "You're thinking of Oasis." They were now stood on the platform, and the others looked at her. "What? Britpop is the best! Don't Look Back in Anger is basically the anthem of Manchester!"
Sophie then spoke up. "I hate to interrupt, but I appear to have a leaky tank. Somebody wouldn't mind patching it up?"
"I imagine we can do so," Sunny said.
"Still," Charles said, "could be worse."
If Hitch had any clue how unreliable Rebecca was going to be he would hired a taxi and left the engine to be towed through Manchester. The engine was sat on the top of a set of points that controlled access between several different important lines in the region. And this was a bit of a problem, as several trains sat there in position on both sides of the junction. The drivers were blasting the horns and generally looking rather cross.
"Oh," Rebecca said. "This is a bit awkward." She tried to address Hitch. "I am sorry about this. I did say I was in need of an overhaul, but I had thought I could make it through this section of town."
"Maybe we should have had one of the diesels tow you," Hitch sighed, before picking up his phone. He punched some numbers into it and then waited for the line to connect.
"Network Rail signalling centre, Victoria Box, how can we help you over?"
"I'd like to report a stalled engine on the..." Hitch looked for, and found, a sign proclaiming where he was. "The Ordsall Chord, namely my own. I'd like a tow."
"Sure thing. Thunderbird being dispatched from Longsight Depot now. Please hold tight."
"Not much else I can do," Hitch thought to himself as the noise amplified around him, some of it with language too profane to repeat here.
It was early evening by the time the diesel dropped Rebecca off at Heywood station, and the team were ready to pick Hitch up. The others were waiting in a siding, and the humans had gone to Izzy's house. Luckily, they all walked there together and went inside the building, a fairly unnasuming surburban home incredibly similar to any found in most houses within the United Kingdom.
"Welcome to La Casa Izzy," Izzy said, as they went into the front room. It was surprisingly comfortable inside, with armchairs and several pillows, as well as a table.
"Nice place," Argyle said, nodding in approval. "What do your parents do?"
"Regional business," Izzy replied. "They're up in Scotland, helping to finance an oil rig." She looked around. "Tea?"
The others nodded, and so Izzy vanished into the kitchen for a bit. This left the others to engage in discussion amongst themselves before she returned, a tray in her hands. Upon this tray was a teapot, six tea cups, and a saucer of milk.
Once the tea was served, the conversation turned to their next move. "Right," Argyle said. "We need to figure out how to acquire the next fragment, legally this time." He pointedly looked at Sunny and Zipp, who nodded in response, having gotten the message.
"I think I know what you are looking for," Izzy said, taking a sip. "There's something similar to your drawings in the collections of the East Lancashire Railway's engine department. Part of a trophy."
"YIKES!" Pipp yelled. Everybody glanced over.
"Are you alright?" Hitch asked.
"I chipped my nail," Pipp said.
Izzy's face dropped. "Oh no!" she said. Then her face returned to normal. "Anyway..." she took another sip of tea. "The guy who runs the place is a chap called Alphabittle Blossomforth, who's about the most Lancastrian Lancastrian who ever Lancastered. He's got some older views about some things, but he's a pretty decent guy."
"Traditional views," Pipp said. "How about we disguise ourselves as boys to avoid detection!"
"I'm already a boy," Hitch pointed out.
"That plan's a bit problematic," Zipp said. "I've got another idea. How about one of us go."
"Nope!" Sunny said. "We're a team."
"Then," Hitch suggested, "why don't we appear as engineers? That way we more easily create the impression that we know what we're doing. And if we really want to blend in, we can get the help of a local."
"Who?" Pipp asked.
"Izzy!" Hitch smiled. "She's from here, so she can teach us to speak like the locals. Isn't the local accent really nasally, and full of dropped consonants?"
"You mean you want t' learn how t' talk like you're oop north?" Izzy said. "Least you din't get stuck in t' bath!"
"That was really good!" Sunny said. "Please teach us some more!"
"I've had practice," Izzy smiled. "Now pay close attention. This is how a Northerner walks..."
After a rather interesting session of learning, the crew took a ride in Sophie to get to their next destination. Considering where they were going, it was considered to be a rather poor use of fuel for all the engines to go. Unfortunately, this meant the experience in the cab got a bit cramped, as the Class 33 had not been designed with this many occupants in mind. The ultimate solution was that some rode in the rear cab to allow them all to fit, but this did have some strange effects.
"It's weird seeing the world moving away from you," Hitch noted, as he and Zipp watched Lancashire rolling away in the opposite direction. "I'm used to seeing it moving towards me."
"Once, we got a taxi to an airport," Zipp recalled. "To maximise capacity and reduce space onboard, the vehicle had backwards facing seats on the opposite wall rather than a new row behind another. I once took a ride on a backwards seat to see what it was like."
"What was it like?"
Zipp sighed. "I got seasick, then... well, you know what I mean."
Hitch sagely nodded. "There's something I don't get about you."
"And that is?"
"Why your career choices? Your position in life allows you access to all of life's comforts at the touch of a button, and access to the very top of our society. And yet you choose to be an engine driver."
"If nothing else I need a backup career if things go south," Zipp said. "Besides, just being from a landed family doesn't automatically make you a snob. I just never massively liked all the formal stuff, that's all. My place is outdoors. It's Pipp who likes all the dressing up. She'd dress like a princess every day if she could. But that's just my opinion. And once you get past his boorishness, Charles is actually pretty great to work with."
Hitch smiled. "I understand. I hope to make it into law enforcement someday, and the CCF is hopefully a springboard to that. If I can prove I can lead well in difficult times, that's a great thing to have on your CV." He paused. "And yet, here I am, miles from home in the cab of a diesel, talking to a person who only a day ago was a complete stranger. Life is a funny thing, sometimes."
There was some sudden braking which jolted them out of their seats.
"Sorry!" Pipp said, over the radio. "This engine's brakes are harsher than I expected."
"Yeah, she's not a particularly good driver."
"I heard that!"
Zipp rolled her eyes and looked out of the window. "We seem to be approaching a large station. Maybe this is our stop?"
Before long, sheds and buildings were rolling past, and Sophie eventually came to a stop at a platform. Opposite the riders was the station's running in board.
"Bury Bolton Street?" Hitch sounded out, as he opened the door. "Name kinda rings a bell."
The group strolled down the platform towards the footbridge, which was covered over to protect the travellers from the elements.
"Great to be in Berry again," Izzy smiled.
"I thought it was Bury," Hitch replied, then looked at the wall. "White rose?"
The nearby corridor fell silent as people looked at Hitch.
"What?"
Izzy took him to one side. "There are four phrases that scare Lancastrians more than any other. "These are 'white rose' (the flower of Yorkshire), 'winter of discontent', 'Richard III', and 'white pudding'."
Hitch looked confused. "What's so bad about white pud-"
Izzy put a hand over his mouth. "Uh uh. Bad idea."
They continued on their journey, Sunny speaking up. "Hey. There's a sign saying to the Trackside Bar on the left, on Platform 1. Is that where we're heading?"
"Yep!" Izzy said. "Your best chance of finding Alphabittle and the boys is in there."
Once at the bottom of the steps, they stepped in through the door. They entered to quite a rowdy scene. The Trackside Bar was absolutely packed. People at the tables were trying a variety of different meals, and the bar was surrounded by men who were singing something about a drunken sailor.
Sunny smiled. "I got this," she said, and stepped forward confidently, taking a seat at the bar.
"Hullo!" said the bartender. "What can I get you?"
"J20, please," Sunny said. "Hold t' ice."
The bartender nodded. "Sure thing." He went away to collect the bottle as Sunny turned to a man sitting next to her. He was a heavyset man in what appeared to be his middle fifties, with grey skin and a wild, spectacular mane of white hair. He also had quite a substancial beard, which oddly helped to emphasise his brown eyes. He was, as a lot of the men were, currently dressed in a boilersuit, suggesting he had recently come off work.
"Hi," Sunny said. "I'm looking for t' Alphabittle. You seen him?"
The man turned around. "You just found him. I have to say, I haven't seen you before. Can't place the accent either. Where you from? Preston? Morecambe? Or maybe Manchester?"
Sunny decided to get down to business as the drink rolled into her hand. "I'm a collector of antiquities. There's one you have I'm interested in. Unless it eat up t'werms, of course."
Alphabittle smiled. "You're quite confident for a little kid. What you got in return?"
Sunny showed him the one they had recovered. "This. And I'm average height for my age, actually."
Alphabittle let loose a spectacular laugh. "I like your spirit!" He turned to his fellows. "Shall we challenge them to an engine run?"
"Yes! Let's!" the men replied.
Alphabittle brought up a picture on his phone. "This is a Sulzer 6LDA28-B, as used in the Class 25. Me and my team can strip one of these bad boys down and completely refurbish it in 24 hours. If you can do it in 22, it's yours."
Sunny suddenly realised she had bitten off more than she could chew.
As Argyle was the expert engineer amongst them, he was naturally put in charge of the work. Zipp was also on the front lines as she had experience with the engines fitted to Class 33s. Most of the bodywork had to come off and be replaced, and the cylinders were swapped out and replaced. The engine block also needed some fixing to get it back into operating shape. The entire job was extremely messy and smelly, and before long the crew were covered in large quantities of dust and dirt from the dilapidated engine. It was lucky they had access to plenty of spare parts in the shop, or else the work would have been a lot more difficult to pull off in the circumstances.
The heavy work of rebuilding the engine continued relentlessly, apart from a small break for lunch. The other crews watched them hard at work with a mixture of bemusement and astonishment. After quite a bit of work, most of the refurbishment was completed, and the final parts came back into place.
Finally, Sunny fired the starting circuit, and the engine roared into life, producing a marvellous sound.
Argyle smiled. "I love it when a good plan comes together."
Alphabittle was amazed. "You did it!" he said. "And in 20 hours no less!" He walked down to them, and handed over the object they had agreed on.
Suddenly, a noise came in over their phones. "We're done reassembling the engine!" Pipp's voice announced on a stream. "The result is looking great! This is sweet as White pudding!"
What happened next was truly bizarre. Everybody in the room froze and suddenly hopped into a bucket, before starting to sing at the tops of their lungs.
"And did those feet in ancient times/ Walk upon England's mountains green?"
"What is going on?" Pipp asked. "I only said white pudding!"
She looked about for an explanation as the people standing in the buckets started from the beginning, suddenly spotting Izzy also standing in a bucket bellowing this piece of music at the top of her lungs.
Zipp looked over. "Nice job breaking it, Pipp."
Sunny tapped Izzy. "Why are you singing Jerusalem?"
"Good point," Izzy said, and hopped out of the bucket. "That's why you're not supposed to say those words I mentioned to Hitch earlier."
"Run," Hitch said, and they dashed for the door. Alphabittle was seemingly able to break with his earlier condition and respond to the situation. "You can't possibly be local! You would know not to say those two words in a confined space!"
But the others paid him no heed. Luckily, Sophie was still parked in the platform, and as they ran past large numbers of people standing in buckets belting out the same hymn they were able to clamber onboard with a relative lack of trouble. With a quick flick of the starter key, the Class 33 rumbled out of the platform and sped off back to Heywood.
Sophie was brought to an abrupt stop in the platform at Heywood, where the other engines were waiting.
"Well?" Porter asked, looking at the others.
"We got it!" Sophie replied. "We managed to get both of the bits of this thing without losing any ourselves!"
All the people occupying the locomotive got out and gathered onto the platform, excited by the possibility of seeing this working for the first time in decades.
Sunny picked up the first piece, which had somehow ended up in her possession in the confusion. "Right, we got the first part!" she said. She held it up to the fading light of the day, which continued to glimmer in the air. "Shall we give it a go?"
Moments later, Izzy handed her the other one. The two pieces glowed together, a winged plate with a tall shard atop it. Sunny quickly figured out how they fitted together, and so her hands placed them into position atop each other, one slotting quite comfortably into the gap where the other had a space.
Nothing happened.
"Huh?" Sunny said. "Something's wrong!" She lifted them apart, and then put them back together in the hope this would do something.
But still nothing happened.
The panic in her face gave way to despair. "No..." she whispered.
"What's going on?" Charles called. "I can't see what's going on with Sophie in the way!"
"The crystals aren't working," Porter said simply. "It seems as though something's missing."
Pipp placed a hand on Sunny's shoulder. "I'm certain we can find a way to make it work!" she said. "There might be a missing piece we're not considering."
"No," Sunny replied, her sadness and despair having consumed her. "We came all this way, covered so many rivers, so many miles." The things they had seen, the times they had had together, and the people they had met all flashed through her mind. And the soul crushing realisation crashed into her like a tidal wave. "And it was all for nothing." She sighed. "I'm sorry."
"So, this is it?" Salty said. "We're just giving up?"
"Sure looks that way," Argyle sighed. "Looks like Phyllis was right. I always was a crackpot, and I simply couldn't see it."
"Cheer up Sunny!" Izzy said. "We had a great adventure, and surely that counts, right? How can we remember this time? How about a song?"
Salty launched off into another sea shanty. "Room for a lad who's come from se-"
"Salty, no," Sunny said. "I suggest we had back to Falmouth. I legitimately thought I had a chance to make a difference in this world. I had a dream that we could bring them back. But that's the thing with dreams. Eventually, you have to wake up." She sadly walked away from the group and went towards Salty's cab to sleep.
Argyle looked to the others. "You'd best be returning to your homes as well. We'll start the return trip in the morning."
Zipp shrugged, as she looked at the fragments. "There's something we're not considering," she said.
It was late at night when Goldenella got into her home in Falmouth. She switched on the lights. "Argyle? Sunny? I'm home."
It wasn't often she was in Falmouth, and wanted to make the most of this visit. She walked through the house, confused at what had happened. It seemed as though the former occupants had left in a hurry. The place was dark, dishes were scattered all over the place, and the lights were all turned off. At least the curtains had been drawn.
She stepped into the living room, confused as to why all the lights were off. She reached for a switch.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Goldenella had no time to react before she felt a gun being put to the back of her head. The light suddenly came on, and the other side of the door revealed two men in uniform holding rifles at her. "HANDS UP!"
Goldenella did as she was told. In her peripheral vision she could see Sprout, also clad in uniform, but looking more like a South American dictator. "What's going on, Sprout?"
"I'll be the one asking the questions, not you," Sprout replied. "Things have changed a little around here. Falmouth is under martial law. There is something I want, and when the Cloverleaf family wants something it gets it." He paused. "Of course, you'll make the perfect bargaining chip. Take her away to the town hall and keep her under guard."
The next morning, the convoy at Heywood was preparing to move off. Just as Argyle was about to open the door and give the all clear, he suddenly got a buzz on his phone. He saw it was a voicemail, so played it. "Hello? Who is this?"
A heavily distorted voice played at the other end. "We have your wife. Come to Falmouth and give us the crystals, and we will release her. You have until 72 hours after the end of this message."
Argyle hung up, looking at Sunny. "They've got Goldie," he said.
"Mom's been kidnapped?" Sunny said.
"Yes. We're to go to Falmouth if we want to save her." A deep anger was beginning to boil under Argyle's skin. "Whoever you are. You can mess with me, but you don't mess with my family."
"If you two are going," Porter said, "I'm coming too."
"And me," Izzy added.
"Count me in," Rebecca said.
"I happen to be heading that way, so I'm onboard too," Hitch said. "Hopefully the CCF can help us get these guys."
"You helped us out," Zipp noted. "I want to help you too. Let's go, Charles."
"Well, of course," Charles said. "We're a team out here. You'll need my genius, won't you?"
"Something must be in the fuel," Sophie joked. "Charles is speaking about being a team."
"Sometimes we must put aside our own development and work for things greater than ourselves," Pipp noted. "I'm in too."
The cavalcade set off with a blaring of whistles and horns. They would save Goldenella, or they would die trying.
"Somebody's remodelled the place since we were last here," Sunny said.
And she was right. The skies above Falmouth were black with smoke, pouring from chimneys that reached high into the sky like needles. Lights glowed in the dingy distance, with large gaps between buildings. The rail approaches had been modified extensively, with the dockyards now being connected much more effectively to the rest of the town. Not only that, the station seemed to have been partially demolished, with rails running through to a large factory in the distance.
"I'm guessing it isn't normally like this," Zipp said.
"This is like the ending to that film I saw once," said Captain Charles. "They've been following us around. Just who are they?"
"Can you please stop doing Butch Cassidy?" Porter asked. "You've been quoting the film nonstop all the way here."
"We all have to see off boredom some way!" Charles protested. "I've been running on fumes for a bit."
"I was wondering why the fuel pumps all have warnings they're empty," Sophie said.
The formation came to a stop outside the factory. Several lines of soldiers marched forward in perfect formation to receive the people before them.
At the head of the formation was Sprout himself, and he had changed. Gone was the idiotic cadet of several days ago. His eyes burned with power, and his uniform would have looked more at home on a South American dictator than a CCF cadet.
"Corporal Sprout," Hitch said, stepping down from Rebecca's cab. "What is the meaning of this?"
"I believe you mean Generalissimo Sprout," Sprout replied, placing his hand on a revolver- which promptly went off. "Argh!"
He took it out and set the safety catch before placing it back in the holster. "Must be careful with that in future. Do you have the items that were promised to me?"
Hitch indicated to Argyle, not once taking his eyes off Sprout.
"Be careful, sir!" Salty called.
Argyle stepped over to Sprout, and handed him the three fragments. "I've honoured my part of the deal," he said. "Now release my wife."
Sprout indicated to a soldier. "Let the woman go," he said. Then he turned to another. "Chuck these over the edge," he ordered him.
Goldenalla fled from the area and into her husband's arms. "I'm so glad you came back!" she said.
"You matter more to me than anything else in the world," Argyle said. "I suggest you get out of here, before things turn ugly."
Goldie nodded, and headed on her way out of the city.
Sunny was next to speak. "Why did you ask us for the fragments if you just threw them away?"
"Because it got you right where I wanted you," Sprout smiled. "Since you were away, I have been working on a little something for you. Consider it something of a homecoming present. Bring the prototype forward!"
A siren blared as the doors of the factory opened. Smoke belched from the interior as machines drew a massive, much larger machine forward. It consisted of two flatbeds with cranes mounted on each, one facing each way. Between the flatbeds were locomotives, presumably how the machine moved backwards and forwards.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sprout smiled. "I call it Maximus. And with it I can destroy you all." He clambered into the central locomotive, which was already running, and gunned the engine.
The giant machine began to rumble forwards, closing in on the assembled engines.
"REVERSE, REVERSE!" Rebecca shouted, and the engines began to scatter as Maximus bore down on them.
"Izzy, technical data!" Sunny shouted. "Just what is this thing?"
Izzy took as good a look as she could as the machine moved about. "Machine consists of two heavy duty rail cranes, each of which mounts a fifty ton crane. The machine is moved about by a trio of Class 25 diesels, seemingly configured to be run from the central locomotive unit. Probably quite slow!"
"Any way of damaging the equipment?" Zipp called.
Sophie was rattling along one side of the machine when suddenly one of the cranes swung out. It missed her by inches. "Large wrecking ball on this thing!" she shouted.
"I damaged a nail!" Pipp cried over the radio.
Sunny suddenly saw a glow over the side of the cliff. "The fragments!" she called. She fired up her radio. "Salty and I are going to recover the fragments that Sprout threw away! Can you guys cover us?"
"On it!" Hitch called. "All engines! Keep moving! It seems that machine can't accelerate or slow down very fast!"
And he was right. The machine ground along at about 10 miles an hour, much slower than the other engines. Suddenly, one of the arms began to swing back and forth.
"Do you like your meat diced?" Sprout asked over the megaphone. "BECAUSE I DO!"
Porter flew down one side of the machine, narrowly avoiding another hit and bashing into one of the couplings. As he did so, he heard a clicking noise. "That coupling is in bad shape!" he said. "If we break them, the machine will stop functioning properly!"
Charles roared by to draw level with the control cab on the other side. "Copy! Moving in to try and slow it down!"
Unfortunately, it seems Sprout heard him. "Not so fast, Crompton," he said, and he moved another switch.
On the other side, Rebecca drew level with one of the cranes. Hitch jumped from the cab and landed on the side mounting. He noticed the machinery was dependant on gearing to move both up and down and side to side. "Whoever designed this thing has no concept of health and safety." He found a metal rod and jammed it in one of the gears, preventing the arm from moving about from side to side.
Unfortunately, he couldn't have timed it worse. Charles was there at that exact moment, and crashed into the wrecking ball. This caused him to tip over to his side.
"Are you alright?" Rebecca asked.
There was a pause. "Some unburnt fuel's come out!"
Sprout, on the other hand, would soon discover precisely why most militaries had downsized and built large numbers of small machines rather than a handful of big ones. Maximus was proving to be almost impossible to control. The other engines were swarming about like flies, and although he had managed to knock out one of the diesels, that left four that he couldn't hit.
Not to mention one of the cranes was registering a fault on its control platform. It wouldn't move as much as he wanted.
He had no clue that somebody was out there.
On the crane, Hitch was still working to disable it. Holding that metal rod in place would only last so long, as the machine could potentially brake it. He looked over the bolts and found a solution.
There was a rig connecting the crane to the body, so he pulled on it. He heaved and huffed with all his might as steam came perilously close to touching him. But at last he tore it out, and the crane arm detached.
It bounced into the air and along the ground, narrowly avoiding hitting Porter as it bounced along.
"Watch it!" Porter shouted. "You nearly had my smokebox off!"
"Too close to call!" Izzy said. As her engine whizzed along, she spotted a new opening for an advantage. As Porter drew level with the first set of couplings, she grabbed a shunter's pole and uncoupled the rear car from the rest of the formation, also disconnecting the brake and power control systems whilst she was at it.
At the other end, the lack of a coherent strategy was becoming apparent. Pipp had brought Sophie to a stop at one end of the yard, and suddenly spotted a derailment switch. She sprinted over to the switch and pulled it, setting it away from the mainline and onto a path towards the cliff.
Sprout spotted this and smiled. "Not so fast." He shut off the throttle and applied the brakes, fully expecting to come to a complete stop.
He was wrong. The uncoupled equipment slammed into the back. With no way of cutting power on the rear locomotive, it pushed the first two and the lead crane along.
Sprout opened the door and looked out as he saw what was coming. "This is gonna suck!"
The first set of wheels reached the end of the track and came off. With a series of crashes and bangs, the gigantic machine plummeted over the edge of the cliff and down into the ravine below.
"Izzy, get down there and collect Sunny and Salty!" Zipp radioed. "Not a lot I can do with Charles on his side!"
"On my way!" Izzy called. "Come on, Porter!"
Maximus continued to fall downwards, and eventually slammed into the ground. The diesel locomotives exploded upon impact, showering the ground with rubble and flames. The cranes left a gigantic pile of rubble all over the place, making it doubtful that anybody could have survived.
Sunny happened to have picked up the fragments in her local area when she saw the explosions. She left Salty in park and walked over to the wreckage.
In front of it was Sprout. He was hurt, but very much alive. His eyes continued to glimmer with anger, and his tattered and torn uniform only served to emphasise the ugliness in his heart. "This isn't over," he said. "I will find a way to win."
Sunny decided to try diplomacy, noticing his left hand was oddly positioned. "What do we get by just fighting?" she said. "Humanity is at its strongest when we build bridges and not barriers. We're supposed to work together, not tear each other apart. I believe that anybody is capable of redemption. And you can help us restore the magic, and make the world a better place."
She paused. "I know admitting that you're wrong is quite hard. Changing your mind is one of the toughest things a person can do. But please, Sprout, it doesn't have to end like this. It can be resolved peacefully. Sprout, for the love of God please don't do something stupid!"
Sprout grinned. "Really? Stupid this."
He pressed down on whatever had been in his hand. A series of loud explosions echoed from the tops of the cliffs all around, and there was a pronounced rumbling sound all around.
A series of sirens began to sound as Sprout began to run. "Take a look around! This place will be your tomb!"
Sunny jumped back onto Salty and attempted to back out of the area. Unfortunately, Salty's engine spluttered, and then died.
"NO NO NO! NOT NOW!"
Porter crashed down the track and came to a stop behind Salty, and Izzy jumped out to couple him up.
"Let's go!" Izzy called, as they began to reverse out of the area. Rocks were falling from above, and a cloud of dust was rising as the sirens continued to blare loudly all around.
The engines bounced up and down as they flew along. "I don't believe I've ever gone this fast!" Salty said.
Porter was red in the face as he continued to put down more effort. Unfortunately, there was a series of sounds like breaking metal. And suddenly-
BANG!
There was a bang, and suddenly Porter shot away.
Izzy looked out. "The coupling's snapped! I'll move in to hook up!"
"There's no time!" Salty shouted. "The cliff's almost on top of us!"
Porter reversed out of the area as the landslide roared down and struck the diesel. Salty was knocked off the track as a mixture of rocks and dirt and sand roared past his position, soon piling up in a massive pile utterly burying the engine.
Sunny had last been seen on the footplate of the engine, and Porter sat in shock at what had just happened.
Finally, it was Argyle who broke the silence.
"SUNNY!"
Sprout's prediction had seemingly come true. Their only hope for restoring the magic had been buried alive.
The dust had settled before them. A massive amount of sand and rubble covered the ground where sandy beaches and beautiful scenery had once been. And buried underneath it all was Sunny. And Salty.
Porter sat there in shock, with no comment about the situation. But Izzy was quick to react. She jumped out of the cab and began clawing her way through the rubble, hurling small boulders aside and digging through sand to try and get through.
Zipp, Pipp, and Hitch arrived at the scene seconds later. "Izzy, what are you doing?" Hitch asked.
"What are you waiting for?" Izzy cried. "Get digging! Sunny's still alive out there, I know it!" She went back to trying to haul her way through the rubble.
Hitch looked back. "Get to town and order the cadets to send down the trucks," he said. "We need a crane to continue shifting this rubble."
Zipp and Pipp nodded, and sprinted into the distance as Izzy continued to frantically dig through. Hitch, having little else to do, joined in, equally desperate to save his friend.
A few minutes had passed, and they had made little progress. The chances of saving Sunny and Salty were dropping by the second, but still they dug their way through. Then, suddenly, they saw something.
"Can you see... light?" Hitch asked, pointing to one of the boulders.
There was. Something was glowing underneath the rubble.
"Could it be?" Izzy asked.
Seconds later, there was a blinding flash, and rocks and rubble were thrown high into the air as something erupted out of the blast zone. Hitch and Izzy shielded their eyes from the light, but when they cleared their view they looked on in amazement.
Hovering before them was Sunny. But she had undergone a surprising transformation since they had last seen her.
Her braid had come apart, and rainbow like hair ran atop her head. She seemed to glow with translucent energy, and two wings seemed to be attached to her shoulders.
"SUNNY! YOU'RE ALIVE!" Izzy squealed, who began to sob. But not with sadness. Tears of joy.
Sunny smiled. "Guess I got lucky." She turned, and with a surge of energy lifted more rubble free, revealing the damaged form of Salty. "Salty took the brunt of the impacts."
"I'm still functioning, if anybody's wondering," Salty said, as Sunny levitated him back onto the rails.
Sunny hovered up into the air, and reached out her arms. A series of golden streams shot forth from her body and thundered through the night sky as rainbows formed all around.
Argyle, who had been watching from above, looked on in awe. "Gold dust," he said. "We've done it. We've brought them back!"
Sunny, once her work was done, flew over as best she could to the nearby ground and touched down. Her new friends surrounded her as her wings vanished, and she sagged onto a bench. "Phew. Turns out powering down really does a number on you."
"But we did it!" Pipp cheered. "The magic is restored!"
"And the non-Faceless Vehicles will survive," Argyle added. "You did a great job out there, Sunny."
The next morning, work continued to rebuild Falmouth from the devastation of the previous day's battle. The terrain sounded to excavators and lorries removing large amounts of damaged soil and rock from the ground. And trains were helping to ship it away to where it was needed.
"We could make several sandpits with this!" Charles joked, as he and Sophie were attached to one such train.
"Pull sharp!" a Class 66 called. "We've got plenty more shipments where that came from!"
Hitch sat down next to Sunny, who was watching the sunrise. "Look," Hitch said. "I'm sorry for calling you a crackpot. Turns out I was the fool for not believing."
Sunny smiled. "It's OK, Hitch. I forgive you. Besides, friends don't agree on everything."
Nearby, Porter attached to the back of another set of trucks that needed to be taken to loading. "Right, where does this lot need to go?"
"We can deal with that in a moment!" Izzy called, as she secured him in place. She then walked over to where Sunny and Hitch were as Pipp and Zipp also joined them. "How you feeling, Sunny?"
"Better than yesterday," Sunny admitted. "Well, I guess this is goodbye." She stood up to face them. "Thanks for everything, guys. Without your help none of this would have been possible."
"Aww, we can't take all the credit!" Izzy said. "You did a great job bringing us together. It was you showing me kindness that inspired me to join you."
"The truth is," Zipp smiled, "a goodbye is never truly goodbye. Why consider this the end? We can still remain in contact with each other."
"There's a saying I picked up from one of my followers from Germany," Pipp said. "I think it's... wait, let me check." She whipped out her phone and scrolled through her messages. "Ah! Here we are! Auf wiedersehen. It's often used to mean goodbye, but it literally translates as 'until I see you again'. And since I hope we intend to meet again, I don't consider this goodbye. Instead, it's see you soon!"
"Of course," Sunny smiled, and she shook their hands in turn.
"You guys ready?" called the foreman. "The sand load needs to be moved to the empties can be put in the siding!"
"On our way!" Izzy called, and she ran to her engine whilst Pipp and Zipp went to theirs. With a roar and a rumble, the two diesel engines pulled away up the slope, with Porter snorting on the back.
"Good luck, Sunny!" Charles called. "May we meet again, under better circumstances, and as a team!"
Porter sighed. "Charles is talking about being a team. Must be in the fuel."
As this magnificent sight climbed out of Falmouth harbour, Sunny turned back to the water as the sun continued to rise. She smiled to herself. After all, things were good in the world.
And as a wise woman once wrote, tomorrow is another day.
John Hasler-Thomas Keith Whickam-Edward, Henry, Gordon, policeman, Salty, assorted voices Nigel Pilkington-Percy Robert Rackstraw-James Jenna Warren-young Sunny Starscout, assorted voices Joshua Graham (not that Joshua Graham)-young Sprout Cloverleaf JJ Gerber-young Hitch Trailblazer Michael McKean-Argyle Starshine Elizabeth Perkins-Phyllis Cloverleaf Tara Strong-'Goldie' Vanessa Hudgens-Sunny Starscout Ken Jeong-Sprout Cloverleaf James Marsden-Hitch Trailblazer Richard Hammond-Porter Kimiko Glenn-Izzy Moonbow Jeremy Clarkson-Captain Charles Liza Koshy-Zipp Storm Sofia Carson-Pipp Petals Jane Krakowski-GM Haven, Duchess of Dorset Robert Cullen-'Rob' Rachel Miller-Rebecca Theresa Gallagher-Sophie Phil LaMarr-Alphabittle Blossomforth
A helicopter buzzed through the night sky, flying away from Cornwall towards the open sea. On it, Sprout and his most loyal followers were sat, alongside Phyllis.
Sprout, still battered and frustrated his coup had failed, switched on a communicator. "Sprout reporting, over."
"Report," said a heavily distorted voice.
"First stage of the plan is complete. Can you confirm magic has returned?"
"Of course. Massive gold dust readings throughout the United Kingdom."
"When do we move up to the next stage of the plan?"
"We wait until the agent is in position and we're certain that gold dust levels are stable enough to ensure our plan can work. It pays to be cautious. After all, Argyle and I go back a very long way."
