> Thomas and Friends: Tales from the Mainland Volume 3
>  by The Blue EM2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Opening Credits
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Fimfiction Proudly Presents

An Anthology by The Blue EM2

Sponsored by the Guild of Equestrian Railroaders

And Based on an Idea by Thomlight Sparkle

Starring the Voices of:

Vanessa Hudgens

Kimiko Glenn

Sofia Carson

Liza Koshy

James Marsden

Jane Krakowski

Michael McKean

Tara Strong

Bahia Watson

Keith Whickam

Rachel Miller

Theresa Gallagher

Richard Hammond

Jeremy Clarkson

James May

Richard E. Grant

Athena Karkanis

And Geoffrey Rush

Animation by Boulder Media and Arc Productions

Model Effects and Sequences recorded at Ellstree Studios

A Hasbro and Mattel Co-Production, Copyright MMXXIV
> Respect for Charles
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Maritime Line rarely stopped moving. No matter what time of day it was there was always something going on, be it the movement of freight, and conveyance of passengers, or even the shunting of trucks in the yard. Not only that, but the spring holiday season was close to beginning, and this was bringing more passengers than usual to the quaint Cornish towns of the Fal River Valley. From Truro to Falmouth people were coming to visit.

Porter was most surprised about what he saw. "Izzy," he asked, "why are people photographing Sunny's house?"

"They probably think it's a tourist attraction and that it's no longer lived in," Izzy replied. "They could always check first, though."

They both watched as Sunny tried to make her way through the crowd. "Excuse me! Pardon me! You woudn't mind letting me through?"

"Looks like they didn't realise the place was still inhabited," Porter noted.

"Technically the lighthouse isn't," Izzy said. "Sunny lives in the house next to it!"

"I knew that."

The entire scene was interrupted by the familiar roar of a diesel engine, and from the mainline Charles roared into view with a rake of coaches behind him. "Holidaymakers' express, coming through!" he shouted.

He pulled into the platform and came to a complete stop, before the guard permitted the passengers to get off the train. As they walked down the platform, they were all talking to one another.

"Honestly, they thought this was acceptable!" said one. "A trip to the seaside on a smelly diesel, no less!"

"Agreed!" said another. "And look at the state the paintwork is in! It looks a mess!"

Charles looked at them. "It has a name, you know," he said. "Read the nameplate, unless your reading comprehension really is that poor."

"Charles!" Zipp hissed.

"Just saying it as it is," Charles replied. "If they can't be bothered to read a nameplate it speaks volumes about their ability to process information."

Truth be told, Charles was a bit worried. He knew that appearances were important to the average visitor, many of whom did not tolerate dirty locomotives. And if he wasn't exactly in prime paint condition, then that reflected badly on the railway.

"Should we try to get a repaint?" he asked.

"Can't get one in this week," Zipp replied. "The workshop's booked out for the rest of the week, so we'll have to keep going as we are." She shut down his engine in preparation for Brookes to pull in and take the coaches away (the platforms at Falmouth having no run round loop).

As Brookes moved into position, there was an odd ticking noise.

"What is that mysterious ticking noise?" Brookes asked.

"I don't know," Zipp replied. "But it's not forming a consistent beat so we cannot make the obvious joke."

"You could make the obvious joke with an alternating time signature," Argyle suggested, as he hopped behind the coaches and the engine to couple them up. "Keep an eye out for me, would you Zipp?"

"Sure," Zipp replied.





Later on, Charles had been placed on shed for the night, and his engine was once again shut down. Unfortunately, the mysterious ticking noise started up again.

"Whatever is that noise?" Porter asked.

"It's a mysterious noise," Rebecca said.

"A ticking noise," Salty added.

"A mysterious ticking noise," finished Sophie. "If he's still making it tomorrow Pipp could make a remix from it."

Charles looked over. "Don't you lot have anything better to do than make jokes at my expense?"

Bellerophon sighed. "It is making sleeping a bit difficult. And it's not as if we can stick a pair of ear muffs on and block the noise out."

"You know," Rebecca said, "I've always wondered how we can hear things when we have no apparent ears."

"Probably the same way Jazz does," Porter commented.

"She actually does have ears," Ray chimed in. "It's just that she styles her hair in such a way that they are under them."

"Ohhhhh," said an assembled chorus.

"Now then, we'd probably best be gettin' some shuteye," Salty said. "Dockside won't run itself."





The next day, Charles was off bright and early with passenger work. "I don't get enough respect," he grumbled. "Just because the visitors seem to always want to see steam engines doesn't mean we diesels aren't important. Why, without me and Sophie this line would probably grind to a halt."

"It didn't grind to a halt when we were back in Dorset last year," Zipp pointed out.

"Zipp, read the room," Charles replied. "But if we can get them there on time they probably won't mind a slightly shabby diesel on the front of their train. Perhaps they should stick me on the front of a dining train and see what happens."

After a while, they arrived at Truro, and prepared to run round for the return trip to Falmouth. They had a few minutes to pull this move off, so Zipp placed a lamp in position next to the coaches to remind people she was working underneath the coach closest to the engine.

Nigel was already at work in the yard. "Did a bit drop off?" he asked. "A BOAC."

"British Overseas Airways Corporation?" Zipp asked.

"Bit Off A Crompton."

"I see," Zipp answered. She hopped up again and got Charles run round his train, then shunted the coaches to the other platform to let the connecting train from Exeter arrive.

And when it did, the passengers were soon onboard. But some of them were very rude. "We just spent over an hour on a diesel!" she snapped. "And now we'll be stuck behind another for the rest of our journey! I thought the Maritime Line used heritage locomotives!"

This made Charles very cross. It was about time the other engines treated him with respect, he thought, and so he decided to take matters into his own wheels.

Later on, after arriving at Falmouth, Charles was once again released from his coaches. "Speed it up!" he called. "I can't afford to be kept waiting!"

"You're not due to leave again for another twenty minutes," Brookes pointed out. "What's the rush?"

And Sophie was very surprised when Charles arrived at the fuel pump. "I need the fuel more urgently than you!" he said. "Back off!"

Pipp leaned her head out of the cab. "Captain Charles!" she snapped.

Nothing happened.

"Huh? That always works!"

"Only when mom does it," Zipp sighed, as she got the fuel hoses lined up. "I'll be out of your way in a bit."

"And another thing," Charles said. "You are all to sound your horns-"

"CHOO CHOO!" shouted the trucks.

"We're not having overused jokes around here!" Salty said.

"-Or blow your whistles when I pass?"

"Why?" Porter asked. "You're really full of hot air today."

"Because," Charles said grandly, "I am important. I don't see you pulling passenger trains." And he powered away, his engine rumbling.

"Whistle if you want," Rebecca said. "I won't be bothering. I don't play into delusions of grandeur."





Charles was on his way once more, but not with passengers. He had been switched onto an empty tanker train bound for the yard at Truro. "Do these people ever stop complaining?" he said, the irony lost on him.

He pulled into the loop at Penwithers Junction to await the line, and as he looked over he suddenly saw a train roll past- another tanker train. "That must be what we're combining our stock with," he said.

"Probably," Zipp said, as she observed the signal suddenly change as the points moved. "Away we go!"

As they pulled away, they didn't see the signalman shouting to them. As they rattled out of the tunnel, Charles suddenly saw something long and silver in front of him. "BRAKES!"

Zipp slammed the brakes on, but it was too late. Charles slammed into the rear tanker- and got a face full of some mysterious pink substance for his trouble.





Later on, Porter had arrived to pull them free. "Whatever is this thing?" he asked. "I mean, it reminds me of Charles, but it can't be him as he'd never end up this messy."

"I see your sense of humour is as good as ever," Charles replied.

Once they had been pulled back into the loop, Izzy walked up the train to the cab. "Are you OK, Zipp?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Zipp replied. "But what I don't understand is why we were let out when another train was in the section."

Then the signalman arrived. "The signal rodding snapped before I could finish setting the interlocking up," he explained. "I did try to warn you."

"Why didn't you use the radio?"

"The set in the signal box is broken."

Charles had sustained other damage in the collision, and had to be taken out of service and shunted to the big workshop. He would almost certainly be there for a long time.

"Never mind," Bellerophon said. "I know what it's like to be covered in sticky things- like the jam and fruit we spilled all over Falmouth."

Charles sighed. At least one engine showed sympathy. He only hoped he wouldn't be out of traffic for very long.
> Lady Madonna!
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pipp knew she was in for a very interesting morning when she read the letter.

Her eyes looked in surprise at the contents, and as her eyes scanned down the page her mouth gradually dropped further and further down with the shock she was feeling.

Could this possibly be right? How was this happening?

She put the letter down, and put her head in her hands. How had she not thought of this?

Suddenly, her door opened, and Zipp looked in. "Sup, Pipp?"

Pipp looked over. "Nothing good. The local authority just sent me a letter."

Zipp looked surprised. "That doesn't sound too good. Normally they send letters saying the water's about to be cut off. Let me see." She picked it up and gave it a read.

When she put it down her face was pulled into a frown. "This isn't good. Where are we going to fix this?"

"There's only one way!" Pipp said quickly. "And that is to convene our friends! Send a message out via WhatsApp and tell them to meet at Sunny's house!"

"Aren't you going to ask Sunny if she's OK with us meeting at her house?" Zipp asked.

But Pipp was already well out of earshot.





Sunny was very surprised when her friends gathered outside her home. "Guys, what's going on?"

Pipp shoved the letter in her face. "We're in big trouble! We need to get this done and fast!"

Sunny gave it a read. "Why do we owe them over six hundred pounds?"

"Apparently we didn't get the correct planning permission to redo the factory," Hitch explained. "I did tell Pipp at the time that we didn't own the building, so we need to get retroactive planning permission or else they'll send a wrecking crew in there to rip everything out. And if they do that all we've done in there will be lost."

"Yeah, this is pretty bad," Izzy said. "So what's the plan?"

"I don't exactly have six hundred pounds lying about!" Pipp said. "But this is where the Starshines come in."

"I don't really follow," Sunny said.

Pipp sighed, sounding exasperated. "Sunny, your mom is amazing with money and numbers. We were thinking of asking her for advice as to what to do."

Sunny looked back. "It's Tuesday."

"And?"

"That's one of three days on the week she's in the office in Plymouth. She works from home on Monday and Friday. And I can't really phone her as she could be doing something really important!"

"Well, that's a bust," Zipp said. "So, how do we fix this and find the money?"

Pipp then looked up. "Of course! I'll organise a charity fundraiser to raise the money to get us back on track!"

Izzy looked over. "I have another idea. I think with a little bit of creativity I can cook up a solution to the problem. One of my ancestors was an alchemist, so could I borrow the basement?"

"I guess?" Pipp said. "Hitch, make sure to stall the council and tell them we're working on it!"

Hitch nodded. "On my way!" He dashed away into the town.





Later that day, Pipp was working on her charity stream when suddenly the house rocked. There was a bang, and some light.

"What was that?" She glanced back to the screen. "Sorry Pippsqueaks, I gotta go, love you lots, goodbye!"

She switched the display to read AFK, and then headed downstairs to the basement. "Why is all this smoke here? And it smells awful too!"

She pushed the door open, only to see Zipp running out, coughing loudly and running for the upstairs. "Zipp? What's going on?"

Izzy then appeared, her hair wild and in every direction. "I've done it!"

"Done what?" Pipp asked.

"I've finally done what the alchemists of old could not!" Izzy exclaimed. "I MADE GOLD!"

Pipp looked confused. "Really?" she asked, her arms crossed.

"Yes!" Izzy replied. "Come, look!"

She led Pipp into the basement, and to the table from which all the smoke was coming. "It's a little hot still, but it's certainly gold nontheless!"

Pipp stopped in front of it. "So, how did you make gold?"

Izzy grinned. "I used platinum!"

"Izzy, you are aware that platinum is more valuable than gold, right?"

"True, but nothing beats gold!" Izzy took a pair of tongs out and took out some round thing before placing it on a mat. "See! Gold! All gold!"

Once the smoke had cleared Pipp finally had a clear view of the object in question. And she was a bit surprised. "Izzy... I don't mean to be perdantic... but isn't gold normally, well, gold?"

Izzy peered at it. "Ah. It appears to be green!"

Pipp looked profoundly unimpressed. "Izzy, you haven't made gold. You've made... green!"

"Well, it could be passed off as turquoise if we applied a bit of paint to it."

Pipp facepalmed. "Well that was a waste of time. I can only hope Hitch is doing better."





Hitch wasn't doing much better. "So, you see-"

"This entire conversation has felt like an exposition dump," said the councillor. He looked very unhappy.

"The simple fact of the matter is that you didn't get the permission required," said another. "If we don't get the money by lunchtime tomorrow, we shall have no choice but to remove the changes you have made to the building."

Hitch looked very surprised. "Could we not have an extension?"

"No. Twelve tomorrow is our final offer," said the first councillor. "Good day."

Hitch was then escorted out of the town hall. "Well, that could've gone better. I can only hope Izzy's having more success with her gold project."





"Can we not really sell this green?" Izzy asked.

"Maybe on Etsy, but nowhere else." Pipp had noticed the substance had started to glow. "How do we know if that stuff isn't radioactive? I'd like to be able to have kids when I'm older!"

Izzy grabbed a geiger counter from nowhere and scanned it. "Nope. Not radioactive. The glowy stuff is glitter!"





Goldie got back in through the door after a long day. "Argyle, Sunny, I'm home!" she called.

Her husband and daughter soon appeared. "Did you have a nice day?" Argyle asked.

"As nice as can be had," she replied. "And you?"

"Well," Sunny said, "I did have one thing I wan-"

"Sunny, I appreciate it's important, but perhaps let your mother get changed, eh?" Argyle suggested.

"Of course," Sunny said. "Sorry."

About half an hour later, Goldie was done freshening up and returned to the kitchen. "What did you want to ask me?"

Sunny sighed. "We've been charged with needing to get retroactive planning permission for the shed we've been doing overhauls in. It seems Pipp didn't get he correct paperwork for converting the building in the first place."

Goldie nodded. "How much are they asking for?"

Sunny shrank down a bit. "Six hundred and twenty four pounds."

Goldie's eyes widened. "They're charging that much for retroactive planning permission?"

"I was wondering if you could give us some advice on what to do? Pipp's tried raising the funds through streaming, and Izzy tried making gold- without success, may I add."

Goldie nodded to this. "I understand. Well, there's no need to worry about any of that. I'll pay it."

"What?" Sunny said. "Mom, can we really spare that much?"

"Given what your father and I make a month, we can easily afford it," Goldie said, rubbing her daughter's head. "Don't you worry. I know how much this means to you and your friends. I'll be glad to help." She picked up her phone and waited for it to connect. "Jeremy, it's Gloria. Do you mind if I come in on Friday this week instead of Wednesday? Something's come up at home that needs my attention tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll be remote working tomorrow."





The next morning, Goldie walked straight to the town hall and paid the planning permission fee, much to the satisfaction of the council. Outside, she was surprised to see Sunny and her friends there. "Hello everyone. Haven't you got things to do?"

"There's something we need to do first," Pipp said, and handed her a cheque. "This is the money we raised yesterday, but as you paid that for us, the least we could do is pay you back."

Goldie stepped backward. "There's no need."

"Why?" Zipp queried. "That wasn't a small sum."

"I know," Goldie said, sitting down on the wall nearby. "But wanting to help others without expecting reward in return is always a positive thing to do. Seeing as you've done so much for the town it only seemed fair to do the same for you. Besides, you can put the money towards an overhaul or something like that."

"Good point," Hitch said. "Doesn't Charles need new traction motors?"

"And that gets us some of the way there!" Pipp smiled. "Perfect!"

As the team headed off for the maintenance shop, Goldie made her way home. As she knew well, a good deed was a reward in and out of itself.
> Izzy and the Mudbath
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One morning, Salty was having engine trouble. No matter what Sunny tried, she couldn't get his engine to start. "Sorry about this matey!" he said. "I'm aware this rather throws a spanner in the works for today's plans."

Sunny, however, wasn't particularly bothered. "Things don't always go to plan," she said. "Like that bout of chickenpox I had last year. But this is something I can probably fix fairly easily."

Unfortunately, it wasn't. The repair proved to be more serious than anything she or the maintenance shop in the town could handle. And this meant Salty had to be taken to specialist facility called The Flower Mill to be repaired.

Porter was the engine assigned to tow him as far as the main line, where a lorry would pick Salty up and convey him by road to the works.

"Funny how we're towing you!" Porter said. "It's rather like our first adventure all those years ago!"

"Sure is," Salty replied. "I'd much rather be running under my own power, though. The sea is calling, after all."

"You live next to it, so no surprises there," Porter added. "But wasn't there an issue with the axleboxes on the Class 07s?"

"Only if you go too quickly," Sunny explained. "So maintaining this sort of speed should be fine."

Luckily, they arrived at the mainline without any mishaps, and Salty was loaded onto the lorry and taken off to the Flour Mill. Sunny remained on the platform, watching until the diesel had vanished out of sight.

She seemed to be so focused that she jumped when Izzy spoke again. "Would you like to work with us today?"

Sunny nodded. "It beats hanging around here having nothing to do. Sure, I'll gladly help out."





The pair returned to Falmouth with a short van train, which was left in the siding to be unloaded and filled with other goods. Upon arrival, the foreman came to see them.

"You," he said, "are to go to Lighthouse Qurry immediately. There is a load from the quarry that needs bringing up to the main yard for processing. I am certain an engine of your size will be suitable for the job, seeing as Ray and his driver are elsewhere."

"Oh, Jazz?" Sunny said. "I was wondering why nobody had mentioned her in a while."

But anyway, an order was an order, and Porter set off for the quarry. The trucks inside the quarry were not happy to see Porter. "Where's Ray?" they asked. "We were looking for a proper engine, not a toy engine!"

"I've got plenty of power to get you lot moved, you muppets," Porter replied.

"So you'd be wise to show some respect," Sunny added.

What Sunny didn't know, though, was that these trucks had grown very accustomed to Ray, seeing him as a critical part of the quarry operation and its scenery. So when another engine had intruded on what they considered to be his turf, they didn't take it well.

Unfortunately, the weather changed for the worse when they were in the quarry. The sun was soon gone, and replaced with clouds that produced nothing but rain. The rain thundered down, and before long the ground was waterlogged and surface water floated on the, well, surface. The rain had another, rather more concerning factor.

Izzy looked about, concerned. "We might need some help getting going with this train," she said. "Sunny, could you put some sand down on the rails?"

"Sure!" Sunny said, pulling her hood up. "So glad I chose to wear a hoodie today."

Sunny hopped out of the cab, and applied a liberal coating of sand to the track. This, she hoped, would help them get going again.

"Sand's down!" she called.

Izzy nodded. "Then let's go!"

With that, she released the brakes, and the regulator was opened. Porter gave off a mighty blast of steam, and soon they were on their way out of the quarry. With a series of puffs they were soon in the tunnel, the load moving slowly but at a steady pace.

Any engineman will tell you that a gradient immediately after a tunnel is always a problem. This is because tunnels are often poorly ventilated, and stopping in them can result in the buildup of noxious fumes. This means restarting on a climb can be difficult as you cannot back up to the bottom of the slope to start again.

And this climb was proving to be rather difficult. A storm culvert had given way higher up the landscape, and some mud had become stuck on the track just before the climb.

Just as Izzy was increasing power to get over the climb, Porter's wheels began slipping violently. The wheels came into contact with the mud and began throwing it all over the place!

"Shut off steam!" Sunny called. "We can't get over the hill with this mud here!"

"Not to mention the wet rails," Izzy added. "I think we're calling for help."





Ray was dispatched to help them out of the quarry, and despite a few initial jokes about mud pie the pair were able to get the train into the sidings.

"Thanks for the help!" Porter said.

"No problem," Ray replied. "Always glad to help out a mate."

"Besides," Jazz added, "a friend in need is a friend indeed."

Soon, they were all back to work on their usual patterns, with engines rolling about, pulling coaches and trucks, and generally being really useful.

But things were soon made easier when Salty came home that night. Safe to say Sunny was happy to be working with him again, and the next morning his engine was running better and smoother and happier than ever.

The mud, however, was washed away by the rain, but the incident had exposed a much overlooked flaw in the design of the track. As a result, it was rebuilt with a storm drain running underneath it to allow any collected dirt to not collect on the track.

However, nobody would be forgetting the mudbath in a hurry!
> Return to Sender
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a stormy day in Cornwall. The winds blew, and the sky was grey and full of clouds. It seemed as though the sun itself would never shine, though of course that was not the case. But it certainly felt that way.

Rebecca was waiting on shed for Hitch to arrive. Already the other engines were setting off with their jobs. "Watch you don't tip over!" she told Sophie.

"I'll be careful!" Sophie replied. "Good thing Charles isn't out here!"

"He wouldn't need the wind. He's full of it!" Porter joked, as Izzy arrived and got him ready to go.

But then, at last, Hitch arrived. He was still drinking the contents of his coffee cup, and once he had finished he dropped it into the recycling bin, picked up his work order, and climbed Rebecca's cab steps. "We've got quite an interesting job today, it seems," he said, as he read over the documents.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked, as her cutoff was wound forward.

"It's a mail train!" Hitch said. "We haven't worked a dedicated mail train in quite a while, so this should be interesting."

Rebecca eased out of the shed and up the steep access track that controlled access to the main line. Once over the points and past the shunt signal, she stopped and waited for it to clear. With a short whistle to denote she was moving off, Rebecca began to back down on her train, and rolled into the mail coaches with a gentle thump.

The mail coaches were magnificent to look at. Each was painted a deep maroon, with the words ROYAL MAIL on the side, and the crest of the General Post Office in between the words. Each had several doors to enable the efficient loading and unloading of mail, and also featured other equipment bolted into place.

"I doubt we'll be using the drop gear on this run," Hitch said, as he adjusted his jacket. The wind had hit at the wrong angle, and he felt very cold all of a sudden.

His attention was then distracted by a familiar voice approaching the station.

"Come all you young sailor men, listen to me/
I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea!"

And then the trucks from nearby joined in.

"And it's windy weather, boys/
Stormy weather, boys!
When the wind blows, we're all together, boys!
Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow/
Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes!"

Sure enough, the familiar form of Salty rattled to a stop in the platform with a line of vans in front of him. "Foul squall, this!" he said. "Reminds me of the Storm of Southampton! It was so wet that the liner terminal was cut off for a few hours!"

"Was that the one that brought the squid?" Sunny asked.

"No, that was the Great Gale," Salty replied. He then looked over to Rebecca. "You'll have to be careful in this weather. Wind can knock an engine onto its side!"

"Can it?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes. I saw it happen once. It was while a Lord Nelson was moving off shed towards the coaling plant-"

"I thought that was due to incorrectly set points," Sunny said.

"Well, they didn't help, but the wind was the primary factor."

Suddenly, a member of staff handed Hitch a telegram, with an updated weather forecast.

Hitch sighed. "Great. Heavy rain on top of wind. This'll be hard work, I know it."

Just then, the signal dropped, and the guard blew his whistle. "Right away!"

Hitch sounded the whistle in response, and before long the mail train was on its way up the valley. The weather soon began to shift for the worse. The winds grew heavier, and the rain began to thunder down as if pouring from bottomless buckets. This made going very difficult, but they still had to stop at all the stations in order to load and unload mail.

Rebecca's wheels slipped periodically, but overall she was doing fine on her run up to Truro. Her fire burned nice and hot, and helped to keep Hitch warm considering the temperatures dropping outside.

When they arrived at Penrhyn, more bad news was to come. The rain was only continuing to get worse, and there was now thunder and lightning to contend with on top of the existing stormy conditions. Once the parcels and mail were exchanged, they were on their way once more.

Unfortunately, the line up ahead was not as safe as they had hoped. Railway lines have to cope with rain and large amounts of water, or else the water may wash away the ballast and track. To prevent this, many railway lines have storm culverts, tiny drains that help to route water away from the track.

Unfortunately, one of the storm culverts had failed in the storm, as the water levels were well in excess of what it had been designed to cope with. The resulting flood of water had poured onto the line, washing away the ballast and leaving the tracks suspended in mid air.

Luckily, a farmer had discovered the problem, and was now standing by the side of the line waving a red flag. "STOP! STOP!" he called. "THE LINE IS OUT! THE LINE IS OUT!"

Hitch was looking down the line, and suddenly he saw a red flag waving about. "Rebecca! Time to stop!" he shouted. He slammed the regulator shut and applied full brake. The brake blocks groaned and squealed as they worked against the wheels, but they succesfully bit into the wheels and brought the train to a stop.

Once the train had stopped, Hitch secured Rebecca in place and hopped down from the cab. "What's happened?" he asked.

"Come and see for yourself," the farmer replied, and he led him to the collapsed ground.

"Good grief!" Hitch said. "We wouldn't have wanted to fall down that. The gap is huge!"

"You'd be lying at the side of the river, I'd reckon," the farmer replied. "We need to report this to the railway. I can head back to Penrhyn to warn them."

Hitch looked at the train. "I'll ask the guard to lay down detonators as a warning precaution," he said. "Protecting the line is vital."

"But how will we deliver the mail?" Rebecca asked.

"Never mind the mail," Hitch said. "We'll need to ensure the line is safe, and the mail can be delivered by foot if needed."

Both of them worked to ensure the line was safe. Luckily, the failure of a track circuit in the collapse of the embankment had already put the signals on the northern end of the line to danger, and a work team was already on its way to stabilise the site.

Once the mail train had returned to Penrhyn, Hitch was greeted by a surprising sight, as the familiar horn of a van tooted in the distance. Sure enough, a bright red van pulled into the car park, and the familiar face of Fifi got out. "Hello!" she said. "I heard you were in a spot of bother, and wanted to help!"

Hitch nodded. "Could you transport all this mail to Perranwell and Truro, please?"

"Bag it up and bob's your uncle!"

"My parents are both only children," Hitch replied.

"It's a figure of speech," Fifi smiled, and walked to the platform. "Right, should be an easy job!"

Fifi loaded all the sacks of mail into her van, and then drove off towards Perranwell. Delivering all the mail took a while, but sure enough she succesfully delivered the mail. She rolled back into Penrhyn station just as Sophie arrived with an engineering train on the other platform.

"Job's done!" she called. "Mail succesfully delivered!"

"Great work," Hitch smiled. "Now the hardest job begins- fixing the line."

The repair work took a while, but by the next morning the damaged track and embankment were succesfully relayed. Now that the line was open again, trains could resume.

And with all the mail delivered, they had avoided a very unfortunate return to sender.
> All Mixed Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One evening, the drivers of Falmouth had gathered in the engineering workshop at the end of town. The facility was currently largely home to rolling stock being repainted or overhauled, but presently there were two engines in the facility. The first was, of course, Charles, owing to his earlier mishap with a tanker. The other was Bellerophon, who's paint was now somewhat shabby and needed to be redone. At that moment in time, the team were busy removing the old paint and preparing to apply an undercoat, which is needed to protect the metal of the boiler from any damage.

"Quite a job, this!" Misty said. "I hadn't realised his paint looked so shabby."

"Well, when you're in an a place or condition for a long time you don't always pick up on the shabbiness," Hitch said. It was only then he noticed the others looking at him oddly. "What? Just saying it as it is."

"But given he is such a hard worker it only made sense to reward him with some new paint," Zipp chimed in. "This should look pretty good, especially the blue."

"It's only an undercoat, right?" Bellerophon asked. "I much prefer brown with cream lining to whatever livery this is."

"Don't worry, it is an undercoat," Misty said. "We'll be back in business in brown in no time."

Pipp then chimed in. "Guys, I was looking through the records and saw something interesting- Bellerophon was never formally commissioned into traffic."

"He wasn't?" Sunny asked. "That's surprising. Normally there's a big ceremony to launch the engine into traffic."

"I'm a colliery engine, remember?" Bellerophon pointed out. "Soon as I was through running in I was put straight to work moving coal trucks about a yard."

"And," Sunny said, "by some strange coincidence there's a commissioning ceremony going on at Truro very soon. A whole host of new machines are being commissioned into traffic by none other than Lt. Colonel William Haven!"

"It's Left-enant, not Loo-tenant," Zipp quickly corrected her.

Sunny went a little red. "OK, I do use a hodge podge of British and American pronunciation. Then again, our pronunciation does shift over time. I found my parents watching their wedding tape back, and mom sounds completely different to how she does now. Her northeast accent used to be really strong!"

"Given she sounds Canadian now," Hitch noted.

"Anyway," Pipp said, taking charge once more, "I was thinking we could submit Bellerophon for a commissioning ceremony!" She looked to Misty. "With your permission, of course."

"What exactly is a commissioning ceremony?" Misty asked.

"Well, basically, the engines are all cleaned up, and then they are taken to a special place with their nameplate covered. Then an important person pulls back a pair of curtains and voila!"

"What if the engine doesn't have a nameplate?" Misty asked.

"Then the running number is momentarily covered over," Sunny explained. "That's what we did with Salty when we finished fixing him up."

Misty looked over. "How precisely did you come to know Salty?"

Sunny smiled. "That's an interesting story. It turned out he'd been dumped in a siding near Eastleigh when being towed for scrap, as his axleboxes had run hot during the move, and they'd just left him there for decades. Dad happened to be in the area doing photography and arranged for him to be shipped to Falmouth. He was working on him for nearly 20 years in the shed near Lighthouse Quarry when I found out Salty existed. We got him working again on limited power, and between our big cross country journey and the Christmas Misty arrived we got him back into working order. And I was given the position of his driver as dad, although he has no issue with diesels, was rather hopeful a steam engine could be sourced."

"We know how that ended," Izzy smiled. "Speaking of which, Porter was acquired by the East Lancashire before I was born, actually. The overhaul went long as he wasn't exactly near the top of the priority list, but he was handed over to the kids group to look at. I was part of it, and was there when Porter's fire was lit for the first time in decades! And I eventually passed my driving and firing test on him, so it only made sense for me to drive him. One of our first trips was to the Dartmouth Steam Railway, but we took a wrong turn at Newton Abbot and you guys know the rest!"

Hitch spoke next. "We got Rebecca fixed here. Turns out most of the work had been done by Swanage-"

"You're welcome," Pipp said.

"And to get her running took a bit of remedial work. It took about six months of work parties, but we got her back into traffic just in time for Christmas."

"What about you, Zipp?" Misty asked. "What's your connection to Charles?"

Charles looked over from the maintenance road he was currently parked on. "That's quite an interesting story, actually. Me being launched into traffic was one of Her Ladyship's last duties before Pipp and Zipp were born. I remember the week they were born like it was yesterday..."





Charles was rather surprised when he felt his engine being started considerably earlier than expected, and a lot of cheering from outside. "Hold on a moment! What's going on?" As he was new into traffic he was usually put into service on the afternoon trains.

"Come on, Charles!" said the man on his footplate, a driver. "They're coming home, and all the engines are needed to help!"

"I need a bit of context on that," the somewhat blue diesel replied.

"The Duchess was at the hospital earlier this week, but they're coming home by train from Bournemouth! Their train is at Norden, so we need to be in place for when it arrives."

Charles was still confused. "Why are we all needed if Her Ladyship was in the hospital?"

The sound of a facepalm was audible from inside his cab as Charles moved out of the shed. "The Duchess was in the hospital to have her children, but they were kept there for a few days to ensure all was medically well. They are coming home today, so we need to welcome them home."

Charles finally followed what was being said. "Ahhh," he said. "Now I understand. Sensible, really."

Charles was finally backed into the cattle dock, and looked over as other engines were gathered in the platform, primed to sound their whistles or horns. As the minutes passed, tension continued to mount. The Household Staff stood on the platform, with their uniforms neatly pressed. A brass band was on the platform.

"STAND TO! THEY APPROACH THE PLATFORM!"

Charles then saw Ray back into the platform, two coaches in tow. The train came to a stop with one set of doors aligned with the red carpet. Wadsworth stepped forward to open the doors, and stepped back once done. "Welcome home, Your Ladyship," he said.

As the party exited the coach, with two more members than when they had left, the brass band began to play 'Congratulations', and engines blasted their whistles and sounded their horns in celebration.





"That must have been exciting!" Izzy asked.

"Apparently it was!" Pipp replied. "Obviously neither myself nor Zipp remember it, so we only have photos to go off, but it looks spectacular."

"According to mom we were the first to be born in Bournemouth in quite a while," Zipp added. "Historically it was either Swanage or Southampton, but she'd been advised to head to Bournemouth as she was at risk of complications."

"I guess you two were early," Sunny said.

"They were," a voice said. They all turned to see Lady Haven had somehow appeared without them noticing. "Four entire days, as a matter of fact."

Charles looked around awkwardly. "Apologies," he said quickly. "I wasn't aware you were there."

"I don't remember a huge amount about the day to be honest," Lady Haven replied. "But considering what my girls do now it seems rather fitting." She looked to Pipp and Zipp. "And raising both of you was well worth the awkwardness of having twins."

Izzy nodded. "I was early too!"

"Interesting," Sunny said. "I was a week late, apparently."

"How did we end up comparing our moms' pregnancies again?" Hitch asked.

"The connections we have to the engines," Zipp said. "I was later passed out on Charles, so it's actually quite fitting."

"And my story is actually pretty boring," Pipp said. "I did my driver training on Sophie and became her driver after passing. I later took a steam loco module and passed that, meaning I can operate Ray when required. Not that I usually do. Jazz appears to have a pretty good handle on that."

"Sounds fun," Misty said. "Well, we'd best get to work on repainting Bellerophon."

"You know what song it's time for!" Hitch said.

"Haven't we sung this several times before?" Izzy asked.

"Who cares?" Pipp said. "It's a certified hit!"

And so, as they got to work, they went into song mode.

"Just a little touch-up!
Just a little paint!
And we'll be done in no time-"

"Hey, this is looking great!" Izzy interjected.

"'Cause they say many hands/
And the work gets lighter! (work gets lighter)
And working with your friends/
Will make the whole day brighter!

"Gonna work, work, work!
Got so much to do!
Well, I don't mind the work/
'Cause I get to work with you!

"Gonna work, work, work!
Make our dreams come true!
'Cause when we work together/
There's nothing we, nothing we can't do!"





That evening, Misty had an idea. As much as she liked how she was, she figured sometimes it would be nice to change things up a bit every now and then. And she had just the thing to vary her appearance for just a little bit. She had made sure she had one of the house's many bathrooms to herself, and got to work on using some hair dye she'd picked up.

"Well, here goes nothing," she said, as she began to try and apply the colours. It took a few goes, but finally she had something she was happy with, a mixture of red and orange shades that blended nicely with her blue skin and really brought out her eyes.

"Well, that doesn't look too bad," she said. "I'll get it out in the morning before anybody notices."





When Misty got up the next morning, the first thing she did was shower. But something wasn't right. She was using a lot of water and hair conditioner, but the colours didn't seem to be budging!

"Why can't I get it out?" she asked, partly out of frustration.

Once done showering, she got dressed, and then tried to hide as long as she could.

Just then there was a knock on the door. "Misty? Are you in there?"

"Sorta!" Misty replied.

"Good! Mom sent me to tell you breakfast is ready, so pop down soon please?"

"I'm not sure I can," Misty replied.

"What do you mean?" Pipp asked. "May I come in?"

"I'd rather you didn't," Misty said.

"Why? It can't be that bad, right?"

"No, it's not bad."

The door then opened and Pipp walked in. "Misty? Where are you?"

Misty gulped. She knew Pipp would find her eventually, and popped out of her hiding spot, revealing her rather confusing mess of hair. "Err, hi?"

Pipp gasped. "What have you done with your hair? This is so you!"

"It is?" Misty asked. "I tested it yesterday, but now it won't come out!"

Pipp took a closer look. "Hmmm. You've applied rather a lot. It'll take a few days for this to come out naturally. Did you bleach your hair first?"

"What's bleaching?"

Pipp stepped back, looking shocked. "Oh no. You'll have an even harder time getting it out! We can fix this, but you'll have to try and act normal for a bit. Even if you may look a bit strange in the commissioning photographs."

Misty's eyes widened in shock. "That's today? I can't go out there like this! I look like an explosion in a paint factory!"

"Well, if it's any help you could try putting your hair under something," Pipp suggested.

"That doesn't really work. Keeping this lot down is rather difficult."

"We can always try," Pipp smiled. "It's not a case of something not working, it's how we find a way to make it work."





Unfortunately, they didn't find a solution which was particularly satisfying. Misty instead just tried to make her way to the workshop in a stealthy way. She hid behind lamp posts, and snuck through buildings. She even hid in a bin to avoid being spotted at one point.

Unfortunately, Hitch spotted her in there and looked over. "Misty? Why are you in a dumpster?"

"Hiding from the others," she said. "I look silly." She clambered out and got on her way.

Hitch then saw why. "Oh. Bad hair day? At least nobody's hair is becoming sentient and fighting each other."

Misty heard Hitch catching up behind her. "Yeah?"

"Why a bin, though?"

Misty sighed. "Back before I met you guys, Opaline would often send me out on missions without sufficient provisions. I got very used to scavenging food from bins."

Hitch looked concerned. "Misty, you were risking becoming seriously ill by doing that!"

"You'd be amazed at how many people throw away perfectly edible food," Misty said sadly. "I doubt I had the most balanced of diets, but beggars can't be choosers, especially as a person who had slipped between the cracks."

By this point they had reached the workshop, and they arrived to find Bellerophon in steam. Painted blue.

"Are we out of paint?" Misty asked.

"Yes, unfortunately," the painter said. "Lorry has been delayed. Apparently a tanker carrying red paint and a tanker carrying blue paint crashed just outside Plymouth. Reportedly the drivers were marooned."

"That joke is terrible," Hitch said.

"So we'll have to delay things a bit," Misty said. "That's fi-"

Suddenly, the telephone rang, and another worker answered it. "I'll tell them right away!" he said, and put the phone down. "Bad news, I'm afraid," he said. "Sophie has failed before the first train of the day. As Bellerophon is the only engine in vaguely presentable condition, we'll have to use him."

"I can't go out there!" Bellerophon said. "I'll look like somebody emptied a pot of blueberry jam all over my cladding!"

"What about the passengers?" Misty asked, rhetorically. "They don't deserve to be left out in the weather."

Bellerophon sighed. "I'll do it for their sakes, then."

"If it's any consolation you won't be the only one looking silly," Misty said, as she hopped on his footplate. "Open the doors, please!"





Safe to say the passengers were rather surprised to see a blue tank engine pulling into the platform and being attached to the coaches. "I didn't know there was a blue tank engine!" said one.

"Isn't that Sonny?" asked another.

"I don't know a Sonny," said Bellerophon. "I'm normally painted brown if that's what you're wondering."

Eventually, they had the train set up, and got to Truro without any further mishaps. Many engines were assembled there. There were diesels and electrics of every shape and size, all waiting to be formally launched into traffic. Bellerophon dropped off his coaches in the platform and drew forward to hide.

"Haydock's Haypennies!" he said. "I'm probably the oldest engine here!"

But nothing else was said, as an older man in full military uniform stepped forward.

"And now," said the familiar voice of Lady Haven, "we have to oversee the event Lt. Colonel William Haven!"

The Colonel stepped forward. "Thank you, Elizabe- sorry, I mean your Ladyship." He cleared his throat. "It is my great honour today, on behalf of all assembled, to launch these engines into traffic. May they provide smooth and reliable service for many years to come!"

He walked between the engines, formally removing the nameplate coverings and declaring them named. He got to Bellerophon last, and smiled. "Are you Misty?" he asked.

"Yes sir!" Misty replied.

The Colonel nodded. "Elizabeth has told me about you."

"Who's Elizabeth?" Misty asked, but then realised. "Oh. I didn't know you were friends with Lady Haven, sir."

The Colonel laughed. "More than friends, actually. She's my twin sister."

Misty thought to herself. Her Ladyship had a twin. Pipp and Zipp were twins. Did twins run in their family?

Before she had a chance to speak again, the Colonel addressed the engine. "What is your name, little engine?"

"Bellerophon, sir," Bellerophon replied. "We had a bit of a mishap and couldn't get the nameplates fitted in time. You see, we had to rescue some passengers as their engine had broken down."

The Colonel nodded. "Well, that was a very brave thing to do. The military teaches many values, but I personally feel the air force puts it best- Per Ardua ad Astra."

"What does that mean, sir?" Misty asked.

"It's Latin, and means Through Adversity to the Stars. You both made your way through a challenging time to be here, and are well deserving of this reward." He stepped back and cleared his throat. "I name this engine Bellerophon!"

There was clapping and cheering, and all was merry.





That evening, the team had returned to the Haven's home and were holding a celebratory dinner in Misty and Bellerophon's honour. "You did great Misty!" Sunny said.

"Thanks," Misty replied. "I only did what anybody would have done."

"Going out of your comfort zone is something we all struggle with, but you pulled it off pretty well, both of you," Hitch added.

"As long as this fair island has more people like you, I think we are in very safe hands as a nation," William said, as he glanced over. "My compliments to the chef. The beef is simply exquisite."

"We figured you would fancy something well cooked after weeks of ration packs," Lady Haven said.

"Hyde Park Barracks has a fine canteen," William replied. "Arguably a perk of being part of the Royal Tank Regiment."

"You sure are a well connected family," Izzy mused.

Misty then turned to a carrot and put her fork into it. But it wouldn't budge. "This carrot seems to be made of concrete!"

Moments later it went flying into the air and landed in Sunny's soup.

"Funny," Sunny said, "I can't remember ordering carrot soup!"

But they all had a good laugh about it nontheless.
> Brookes and the Trouble with Trees
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a very messy day up at the Truro yard, and large quantities of coal had been shunted about that day. As a result, the engines were not the usual spic and span colours they normally were.

Onyx brought Nigel to a stop at the fuel pump and shut down his engine for the day. "Time to go," she said. "Coal, the limitless fuel which seems to power so much of the world, burning, burning like a supernova."

Nigel sighed. "Enough with the poetry. And any chance I could have a clean? I look a mess."

Onyx looked back. "Sorry, Nigel. Not enough water. There's the threat of a hosepipe ban."

"Well, last time they said that it rained nonstop for weeks," Nigel replied.

"Perhaps the rain will clean the muck off you, then," Onyx suggested.

"I can only hope Brookes doesn't make a big deal of it," Nigel noted, sadly.

Brookes, however, was currently in conversation with Sophie. "Did you hear that they're cutting back on paint?" he said. "Instead of three coats of undercoat, they'll only be giving us two from now on."

"Why?" Sophie asked.

"It's to save money, apparently." Brookes looked unimpressed. "It's never good when standards get compromised. If we look messy, customers react badly, and take to the internet to complain."

Pipp leaned out of the cab. "I wouldn't worry about it. I get hate comments on my streams all the time."

"How do you deal with that?" Argyle asked. As a man growing up in an age when the internet was still in its infancy, a lot of internet culture was a mystery to him.

"Oh, I just ignore them. Never show them your buttons, and you can't push them. That and blocking is always an option."

"Anyway," Brookes said, "if anything I could do with some new paint. Or failing that a washdown. I'm the pride of the yard, after all."

"Aren't we all the pride of the line?" Sophie asked. "I mean, without any of us this railway would grind to a halt!"

"I don't think Charles would agree with you on that," Argyle noted dryly.

"It's not he's in a condition to complain, given we are here and he is there," Sophie said.

"I could also do with a clean," Nigel said, speaking to them from across the yard. "I've been working the hardest of any of us. Look at all this coal dust!"

"Coal is messy, I will admit," Brookes said. "If anything, we could all do with some paint."





The next day, Brookes was back at work, shunting trucks. Sophie had just arrived with a freight, and was propelling some trucks into the siding to be sorted. Unfortunately, she was going a little too quickly.

"You might want to start braking!" Brookes called.

But Sophie didn't. The brake van slammed into the buffers and derailed, and the trucks tipped over, spilling their load onto the side of the line.

"You might want to clear that up!" Nigel shouted, unhelpfully.

Just then, Rebecca arrived, running late. "Sorry for the delay!" she said. "Got held up."

"Talking to a tree, were you?" Brookes said, jovially.

"Funny you should mention trees," Hitch said, leaning out of the cab. "We received a warning earlier today that there's a risk of trees falling on the line. Take extra special care today."

"When is your next train going?" Pipp asked.

"In an hour. Why?"

Pipp indicated to the accumulated mess at the lineside. "You wouldn't mind helping to clean this up?"

"What would you do if you encountered a tree on the line?" Brookes asked. "The pit I worked at stripped all the trees out well before I began working there and turned them into charcoal."

"Stop and make a telephone call?" Onyx suggested.

"Or perhaps push it out of the way?" Sophie suggested.

"Good luck doing that, mate," Nigel sighed. "Sometimes we have the strangest of conversations up here."





Later that day, Brookes had been dispatched to Newham Harbour. The line there was having barriers installed to protect from fallen trees, and Brookes was pulling a train of bolster wagons loaded with barrier fences. He arrived at Newham to run round, and saw Salty waiting there. "Morning Salty!" he said.

"If only it were a good one," the diesel said, mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" Argyle asked.

Sunny looked over. "We've already had fallen trees. One knocked over a power line and cut electricity to Calmenick. And another fell into somebody's house and flattened the top floor!"

"Was anybody in it at the time?" Brookes asked.

"No, luckily," Sunny replied.

"But it'll be good to have these barriers installed," Salty said. "These old trees have seen a lot. It almost reminds me of a song. Something about a Royal Tree."

"You mean the one where a single ship defeated ten enemy ones?" Brookes asked. "Yeah, that's not entirely plausible." He glanced over. "You look like you could do with some paint too."

"Possibly," Salty replied. "I know I was painted blue for most of my career, but I rather like red."

"None of which would help if a tree fell on us," Argyle reminded them. "So let's get these barriers unloaded and set up."





Once they had finished unloading the barriers, Brookes began to make his way back towards Truro. Truth be told, he was looking forward to some quiet shunting for a change. But things were not exactly going his way. As he pulled into the yard, he saw Sophie at the side of the yard, her engine shut down. "Something happen?" he ask.

"Sophie's engine is making a knocking noise!" Pipp replied. "We're taking her to the works to be looked at."

"So now we're down both Class 33s," Argyle said. "Looks like somebody else will need to step up."

Just then the yard foreman arrived. "Can you two take Sophie's train to Falmouth? You should be strong enough for the work."

"Understood," Argyle said, and opened Brookes' regulator. "I do have some interesting days off..."

Brookes, however, was a little surprised. "Haven't done a trip freight in a long time. Could be worth getting some water before we go."

The trucks, unfortunately, overheard. "Getting a bit overworked, old timer?" said one. "You should probably go to one of those heritage lines before you fall to pieces!"

Brookes looked annoyed. "Really? That joke wasn't funny in the 1980s and isn't funny now."

"Your paint's nice," said another truck. "Pity about your face though."

Brookes was about to say something, but then remembered what Pipp had said yesterday, and simply ignored them.





The weather had changed for the worst by the time he set off for Falmouth. After the fierce climb away from Penwithers Junction, he was rolling downhill with an unfitted train. Argyle looked behind them with a concerned look on his face. "This rain won't be doing the soil any good," he said. "Watch out for wind."

As they rattled through Perranwell and onto the next section of the line, they came towards an old section of hill. This hill had had taken a battering in the recent bad weather, and an old tree was being blown by the wind.

As they approached, the tree suddenly seemed to start moving. "That can't be right," Argyle said.

"What isn't?" Brookes asked.

"Can you see that tree?"

"No," Brookes replied. "I'm running bunker first, remember?"

Argyle was about to answer, but then realised what had happened. "The hill's giving way!" he said, and he slammed on the brakes. The heavy train worked against them, and it seemed as though they wouldn't stop.

But they did- inches from the tree that was now fallen over the centre of the track.

"Did we hit something?" Brookes asked.

"No, but we nearly did," Argyle replied. He reset Brookes' cutoff to forward, and tried to get the train moving again. But the rain was wreaking havoc with the ground, and Brookes' wheels slipped on the wet rails.

"Call for help?" the tank engine suggested.

Luckily, help was already on the way. The air soon sounded to the familiar sound of Salty's engine. "We'll get you out o' there, matey!" the diesel called. He rolled to a stop in front of the brake van, and Sunny jumped out to couple him up.

"Ready to pull!" she radioed.

"Ready to push!" Argyle replied. "And make it quick! Another tree's giving way!"

Salty's engine roared to full power as Brookes began to push against his train. The air was filled with the roar of a diesel engine and the loud percussive bark of a steam locomotive. And they were just in time. Just as they cleared the danger zone, the second tree toppled over and broke apart against the track.





That night, Sunny was just finishing putting Salty away when she saw Argyle enter the shed. "Hey dad!"

"Thanks for saving me and Brookes out there," Argyle replied. "Who knows where I'd be if that thing had fallen on us."

"You saved us from getting blown up by the oil refinery, so let's call it even," Sunny said jokingly. "Hopefully things will be back to normal tomorrow."

"They will for me at least," Argyle smiled. "After that escape I'll be glad to see a lecture theatre again!"
> Ray gets it Right
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although the two major settlements at either end of the line are heavily urbanised, the bulk of the Maritime Line runs through very rural terrain, with rolling fields so stunning you can see them rolling away from you for miles. The landscape is very pastoral, which is part of the reason it is so popular with tourists.

And it was now planting season in Cornwall. Farmers who grew crops were busy planting various crops into the ground, and large machines were rolling across the terrain dispensing seeds and fertiliser. It was an unusual moment for many to witness, and an important reminder of how farming has changed in the last 100 years alone. Long gone are the days of planting by horse and hand. In many ways, the entire process is reminiscent of a factory production line. But all of it would be worth it in harvest time, when (hopefully) plenty of food would be gathered from the fields and safely gathered away in barns, ready to be turned into important things for people to use.

One morning, the weather was foul once again. The sky was full of clouds, and rain was pouring. Fog hung in the air, making it hard to see very far. This morning, Ray was making his way up the line with a mixed goods train. One of the vans was filled with tomato seeds, to be delivered to Farmer Copley at Perranwell.

"Good thing we have plenty of spare capacity with engines, isn't it?" he said, as they rumbled along.

"Agreed," Lady Haven replied. "With both Charles and Sophie out of traffic it makes keeping the line running quite difficult. And the weather is not helping- I'm not surprised they introduced a reduced speed noticen with all this fog about."

As the train reached the summit just south of Perranwell, the track suddenly lurched. "Did you feel that?" Ray asked.

"I did," Lady Haven replied. "It felt like some unstable embankment underneath the track."

"How is that possible in a cutting?" Ray asked.

"Or was it something on the line?" Lady Haven queried. "Either way, we must warn the others! We shall do it when we get to Perranwell."

Ray came to a stop at the next station, and Lady Haven went into the station to use the telephone and warn the railway staff. Whilst this was going on, Rebecca arrived with a passenger train. "Hello Ray!" she said. "Miserable day, isn't it?"

"You tell me," Ray replied. "Anyway, we need to be careful. Something's wrong with the track near the summit back there. Be careful."

"If we go there," Hitch pointed out. "The signal's red." And it was.

Lady Haven then emerged from the office, looking a bit hot under the collar. "Well, just our luck!" she said. "The maintenance train cannot be here until tomorrow, so they've told us to continue operating that section of line until then. They said, and I quote, 'the line is safe enough'. I'll be sure to keep that line in mind if anything happens."

"The tomatoes were unloaded," Ray informed her. "We should be clear to go now."

Lady Haven smiled. "Thank you, Ray." She reboarded his footplate and they were on their way once more.





Back at Perranwell, the signals had now moved to green. Perranwell is unusual on the Down side in that the yard is connected to the rest of the line by a long spur, and as a result there are two sets of home signals. The first set controls access to the yard and prevents trains from accidentally colliding with an engine that is shunting. The second set holds trains in position and keeps them in place on the single line.

Rebecca set off with her train up the line, keeping to the reduced speed limit as specified in the morning briefing. "I haven't seen fogs like this in a little while," she admitted. "We did once have one with bad on Honiton Incline, which made getting passenger trains over it rather difficult."

"Didn't banking engines and lead engines communicate via whistle codes?" Hitch asked.

"They did indeed, but that's of limited use until you suddenly see the banker board suddenly racing towards you," Rebecca replied.

But just as they crested the hill, there was trouble to be had. "Look out!" Hitch called. "Landslide!"

He slammed the brakes hard on, but with the short distance and the wet weather it was hopeless. Rebecca's wheels simply skidded on the wet rails, and she slammed into the landslide tender first and was derailed.

"We've stopped!" she said. "Brilliant."

"At least you're still upright," Hitch said. "Now we just need to wait for a rescue train."

A few minutes later, the guard arrived. "I've just finished checking through the coaches," he said. "And luckily, nobody was hurt. I'll head back down the line and inform the station of the incident."

"Understood," Hitch replied. "We'll keep supplying steam heat to keep the passengers warm."





Ray had just finished putting his train away in the sidings when suddenly there was a commotion on the platform.

"That's the third landslip in a few days!" complained a passenger. "Why aren't they maintaining things properly?"

"I need to get down to Falmouth, and fast!" complained another. "This is a bad railway!"

Lady Haven walked over to find out what was going on. "I say, what seems to be the commotion?"

"There's been a landslip on the line!" complained the first passenger. "Nothing around here seems to be maintained properly! Not that a person like you would understand."

Lady Haven blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"This mess wouldn't have happened if there was proper repair standards. So perhaps people like you should get out of their homes and stop drinking tea and instead fix the problems we face!"

Lady Haven's eyes went narrow. "I will not be spoken to in that manner!" she snapped. "Although I may be legally entitled to stick a title on the front of my name, we work just as hard as the rest of you!"

The passenger was suspiciously silent after that.

Lady Haven made her way back over to Ray, shrugging her shoulders. "I believe the idiom is walk a mile in somebody else's shoes," she mused to herself.

Ray then spoke up. "Should we investigate the accident sight ourselves?"

"Well, obviously," Lady Haven replied, as she released his brakes. "What if a train gets caught in it?"





Upon returning to Perranwell, both engine and driver found the signals set to danger. A railway worker was standing at the end of the platform, holding a red flag. "There's been a derailment higher up the line," he said. "We're currently awaiting the arrival of the brakedown train from Exeter."

"What about Rocky?" Ray offered.

"Wrong side of the landslip, I'm afraid," the railway workers replied. "Could you dig the coaches out for us? It'll make the recovery operation a lot simpler."

"Of course," Lady Haven replied, and sounded the whistle twice. Sure enough, the signals dropped, and they were on their way.

The run to the crash site was nerve wracking. The line climbs through a tunnel and onto the summit, and the landscape could possibly be washed away at any moment. They were most of the way up when they spotted the back of a coach at last.

"Over here!" Hitch called. "Could you help us?"

"It's what we're here to do!" Ray said. He backed into the coaches, and was shortly coupled to them. He then set off on his way back down the line with the short rake in town, and pulled into the platform with the train. The passengers were glad to be away from the accident, and thanked Ray for his help.

Later on, the brakedown train arrived, and a rather officious looking man looked over. "What's going on here?" he asked. "Heritage week?"

Lady Haven recognised the voice as the man who she had spoken to on the telephone. "In Cornwall we say good morning," she replied.

"Something about an accident, I heard," said the man again. "Not surprised around here. This line is old."

Lady Haven pointed in the direction of the landslip. "It's that way. But I imagine you won't have too much trouble. After all, it is, and I quote, 'safe enough'."

The man looked annoyed, but otherwise said nothing as the brakedown train continued on its way.

A few hours passed, and Ray returned the coaches to the carriage sidings before heading back to Perranwell. By the time he returned Rebecca had been pulled out of the landslip, and was safely parked in the platform.

"Thanks for the help!" she said, as the brakedown train pulled away towards Truro.

"Always glad to help a mate," Ray replied.

"As indeed we all should do," Lady Haven noted. "No matter our position or social station, what truly marks us is our willingness to help others in need."

And that, dear reader, was a sentiment those at the station heartily agreed with.
> Cromptons in Camouflage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With both Class 33s in the works for repairs, things were tough on the railway, which had largely switched over to steam operation. Whilst popular with the tourists, it also caused no end of operational headaches when the bigger engines had to return tender first. The sooner they got the two diesels back into service, the sooner normal service could resume.

As both were in the workshops for maintenance, the staff had taken the opportunity to repaint them. Both engines had been stripped down to the metal, which looked very odd.

"Have you noticed something?" Charles said.

"No," Sophie said. "Was it something specific?"

"Seeing as we are both the same class," Charles said, "we now look precisely the same. The colour and nameplates tell us apart. And there's another thing- the liveries on this line are too confusing. Everything should be in one colour to keep it consistent."

"It does make for a very boring colour pallette," Sophie said. "Colour is the spice of life!"

Outdoors, there was a loud whistle as Rebecca pulled away from the station.

"That's the lunchtime train, isn't it?" Charles asked.

"I think so," Sophie said. "There's no clock in here so I've lost all track of time. What day is it?"

"Why would I know?" Charles replied. "Anyway, I would usually be pulling that. And there's another thing."

"Another thing on top of the other another thing?" Sophie asked.

"Yes. And there shall be another thing on top of the another thing on top of the first another thing at this rate." Charles sighed. "But I think Rebecca whistles too much. I know we have to whistle or blow our horns when crossing lines or moving off, but it's all very noisy. She probably thinks she's very important."

Sophie chose not to comment on Charles completely missing the irony in those words. "We all have jobs to do. And I hope I can resume mine soon when they've finished repainting us."

"I know I shall look magnificent in blue," Charles smiled. "Monastral blue is the only proper colour for an engine."

Just then, they heard confused shouting from outside.





Later on, some workmen arrived to begin the repainting process. Sophie was taken off first for repainting, and they seemed to be at it for quite a while. Charles soon began to get bored, and drifted off to sleep whilst nothing was going on in the depot.

When he awoke a while later, he was greeted with a rather strange sight. Sitting there, before his eyes, was a blue diesel with yellow front ends and black lining around the windows. The cab side bore the number 33021, and the nameplate read Captain Charles!

Charles spluttered. "What in the name of Eastleigh is this?"

Sophie seemed just as confused. "They've given me your livery, number, and nameplates!" she said. "I've no idea how they got us mixed up!"

Charles groaned. "Just trust a bunch of cowboys to get it wrong. If we can get a message to our drivers then-"

"And he's all yours, Zipp," said the shed manager. "All fixed up and ready to go."

"Thank you," Zipp replied, and climbed into the cab of the engine she thought was Charles before firing the loco up. Within minutes, they were off on their way.

"Stop!" Charles called. "That's not me! That's another engine!"

But Zipp didn't hear him. She had the windows up and was focused on driving.

Charles sighed. "Oh, the indignity."





Meanwhile, on Sodor, Gordon looked annoyed. "That's my line!" he said.

"Gordon, who are you talking to?" Henry asked.





Things were only going to get worse for Charles, however, as it was his turn to be painted- into Rail Express Systems red and black, with the wrong running number and nameplates!

Minutes later, Pipp arrived to take him for a run in the mistaken belief he was Sophie. The doors were soon opened, and he was driven out of the shed and onto the access line back to the yard.

Things were not looking good for the two diesels to say the least.





When out on the line, it didn't take Zipp long to notice something was wrong. "What is up with the control layout?" she asked. "Why is there an ETS handle over there? I don't remember Charles having one of those."

She backed the engine she thought was Charles onto the train. Considering the weather, they would need the steam heat. Once buffered up, she hopped out to couple the engine up and add the brake pipes. But when she dropped down to connect the steam heating pipes, she ran into a very serious problem.

The steam heating pipework was nowhere to be seen!

"What is going on?" she asked. "Charles, did they remove your pipework?"

"I'm not Charles!" the diesel said. "I'm Sophie!"

Zipp pulled herself up, now seriously confused. "But the number, livery, and nameplate suggest you aren't!"

"They painted us the wrong colours!" the diesel said. "Just wait for Charles to appear!"

Moments later, a diesel with Sophie's nameplates and livery arrived in a nearby siding. Pipp leaned out of the cab. "I thought Sophie didn't have a steam heating boiler, so why is there a steam heating panel in here?"

"Because they got our engines mixed up, that's why!" Zipp said. "I've got Sophie over there, and you've got Charles over there!"

Charles groaned. "I would say, 'oh the indignity', but it appears to be a bit of an understatement."





They eventually got both engines back to the works to be repainted- again. However, they were eventually returned to the correct colours, and were back in service by the afternoon. That night, both diesels were back in the shed, and celebrating.

"That was quite the day, eh?" Sophie said.

"Indeed," Charles replied. "But it is good to be blue again. Blue is the only proper colour for an engine."

"I don't mind being green," Rebecca said.

But at least people knew which of the diesels was which once again!
> Harvey to the Rescue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Falmouth harbour never stopped working. Usually the workload stepped up some point around the morning, when the ships came in with the tide to unload their cargo onto the quay. This would then be processed to other places, and shunted into trains to be taken to places far away.

It was hard work keeping a dockside fully supplied, but the engines and their drivers didn't mind. In fact, it was all part of the job. And they wouldn't have it any other way.

One morning saw a somewhat unusual sight on the dockyard lines. Salty got his first awareness of the unusual situation when he heard an unusual whistle. "Ahoy there, Harvey!" he said.

"Hello there!" Harvey said, with a smile, as he came to a stop on the dockside line. "I've come to help."

"We'd rather assumed that," Porter said, pushing some trucks past. "Engines don't normally come out here to sunbathe."

It was at that moment Goldie interjected into the conversation. "The management are questioning why we have a crane tank when we have a separate crane. That's why Harvey is here; we are going to give the Board of Directors a demonstration tomorrow of his capabilities and show them just how useful he is!"

"And I am very useful indeed," Harvey said. He then spotted a small pallette piled high with boxes. "Hook me up to that, please!"

Sure enough, Harvey was connected to it, and with a small effort he shifted it into the air and loaded it into a nearby plank wagon. "Much simpler than moving a statue, eh?" he said, with a smile.

"At least nobody mispronounced demonstration in order to fulfill the learning quota," Goldie said.

"What's a learning quota?" Salty asked.

"Requirement of Canadian television. Twenty five percent of TV shows must be 'educational' in some way, which is why so many kid's shows have morals shoved into them."

"But how does that apply to us?" Salty asked. "We're not moving pictures in books!"

"Never mind," Goldie sighed.





Harvey had lived up to his name on the dockside, making things much easier. But that didn't mean the engines accepted him entirely. The truth was he hadn't been used very much on the dockside since he had been rescued from Perranwell a year earlier, and as such most engines were not used to him. And this was the cause of discussion.

"You know," Charles said, "he's a very odd shape. He lacks symmetry, and symmetry is always important in an engine."

"I'm not symmetrical!" Rebecca said. "Steam engines are, by definition, asymmetrical. And many of the early diesels lacked symmetry too, such as the Class 20s. They only had a cab at one end!"

"Not the smartest of design ideas," Porter stated. "Then again, the Americans stuck with it for some reason."

"His power is also a bit limited," Charles continued. "He can't pull that much stuff! What's the purpose of an engine who can't pull things?"

"His job is to lift things," Rebecca pointed out. "Or tow things off derailment sights."

"Perhaps we should stop gossiping about Harvey when he's right over there," Porter suggested. "He can probably hear us."

"Be quiet, short frames."

Salty was surprised, so spoke up. "Sunny," he said, "I'd like to keep Harvey company tonight. Shall we stay in his shed tonight?"

"The old one in Lighthouse Quarry?" Sunny asked. "That sounds fine. Interesting choice as you spent nearly two decades in there, but a friend is a friend." She backed him through the tunnel and stopped in front of the shed, sounding the horn twice in case anybody answered.

"Coming!" said a voice, and the door opened. Goldie appeared, with an oil can in hand, and waved Salty in until he was past the doors. She then closed them.

"I must admit I wasn't expecting to see you two here tonight," she said. "Something happen in the shed?"

"Some of the other engines were saying mean things about Harvey," Sunny said, "so Salty asked if he could keep him company tonight."

"That's very kind of him!" Goldie smiled. "Would you like to help me ensure Harvey looks and performs his best tomorrow?"

Sunny picked up a wrench. "Just point me where you want me to go."





The next morning, work commenced, even though it was the weekend. The Starshines were down bright and early at the shed, ensuring Harvey was ready to work. Sunny had already moved Salty out of the way, so they were all making the last checks on Harvey.

Harvey sighed. "I feel better for Salty staying with me," he said. "But sometimes I feel as though the others don't like me."

"Nonsense!" Goldie replied. "I'm certain they see you as a member of the team."

"Charles seems to think otherwise," Harvey sighed. "He was criticising my symmetry earlier. And that I'm different. Maybe that's the problem."

Argyle glanced up from the inspection pit. "Charles," he said, "says a lot of things. Not all of them are intelligent."

"Besides, being different isn't a bad thing," Goldie said, as she tightened a bolt. "When we first met, people were saying Argyle and myself were the least likely combination imaginable. But we're still going strong!"

"As the Jamaicans say, every bread has its cheese," Argyle added.

Suddenly, their attention was attracted by some loud whistling from the dockyard.

"What's going on?" Harvey asked.

Before anybody could reply, there was an ear splitting crash!





The short line down from the branch line into the harbour is extremely steep, and trains either need to have good brakes or be very short to have a hope of stopping in time. And this was not one of those days.

Porter had lost control on the descent down the slope, with the heavy trucks slamming into him and pushing him down. "On! On! Faster! Faster!" shouted one.

"Chase him! Bump him! THROW HIM OFF THE RAILS!" bellowed another.

"We're already coupled to him," pointed out another.

"Ah," said the second truck. "In which case, only bump him and throw him off the rails."

"How precisely do we bump him when we have no propulsion?" said another.

"Stop nitpicking and get back on script!" the second truck snapped.

Porter was in no mood for such questions as he rocketed down the slope. His brake blocks were having minimal effect, and they produced a horrible screeching noise as he slid along. "That's not gone well!" he said.

Even at their relatively slow speeds, they were at risk of coming off the line. And when they rounded a particularly sharp bend they did. Porter stayed on just fine, but the trucks tipped over and flew all over the place, depositing their heavy loads all over the dockyard and falling onto their sides. This blocked the track to the sidings on the furthest pier.

"How are we supposed to resupply the trawlers now?" asked a dock hand. "We can't carry this stuff there! It's too heavy!"

"And we can't lift the stock out of the way," said another. "Rocky is far too big to get down here safely!"

Porter sighed. "What a mess."

But this mood was not shared by Izzy. "You know, Porter, I have an idea. Not a cunning plan, but an idea..."





Minutes later, Izzy arrived at the Lighthouse Quarry shed, where Harvey was almost ready to go. Argyle glanced over and smiled. "Hello Izzy! Been a while since I last saw you here."

Izzy looked frantic! "No time to waste! There's been a derailment on the quay and we need help! Could you please help us move the damaged stock?"

"Say no more," Harvey said. "I'm in."

Minutes later, Harvey arrived at the scene of the mess. His crane arm swung over and with minimal effort he began to pull the trucks back onto the track. The chain wound back gently, pulling the stock slowly over the ground and onto the rails. It was a splendid sight to see, and sure enough the mess was soon cleand up, with the trucks being where they should be.

Harvey even then pushed them to the sidings, to prove he could work as a shunting engine.

"Thanks for the help," Porter said. "You got us out of a right mess there."

"No problem," Harvey replied. "We're all useful in our own special way."

Just then, a voice spoke. "That was magnificent!"

Harvey looked over to see a man in a suit and bowler hat standing there. "Myself and my fellow Directors saw that cleanup operation, and I must say you handled it brilliantly considering the circumstances. We are convinced that you are a good investment after all, and so we say you can stay!"

"Thank you very much!" Harvey said.

"I mean, he would be staying anyway, seeing as he belongs to us, but the point remains." Goldie said. "But I hope everybody learned an important lesson today. Just because somebody is different doesn't mean they can't contribute in their own way, and as such we must treat everybody the same way- with kindness, and respect."

"Hear hear!" called a voice, and the dockside was soon filled with cheers and whistles for Harvey the crane tank.
> The Day Cornwall Stopped, Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Of vital importance to anywhere in any country is transport infrastructure. Without a proper system for moving vital equipment and people from one place to another, a region will begin to fall apart. This is especially serious when it comes to areas of the world with limited transport setups.

Let us, for example, turn our attention to Cornwall. Cornwall is a county that is characterised by isolation. It has no motorways, and only three major roads run through the county. Similarly, only one major railway line runs through Cornwall, connecting it to Devon, but severely reducing capacity over former years. This leaves the rest of Cornwall's transportation needs to be settled by either the rest of the road system, which was never designed to cope with large volumes of traffic, or by sea, which is the only effective way to serve some settlements when roads are impassible.

One day, all of the major crises and problems that these transport systems suffered from came together in the worst possible way. In a classic case of everything going wrong at the worst possible moment, Cornwall's transport infrastructure fell apart at the very moment the county needed it most.

This is the story of the Day Cornwall Stopped.





It was a day that began like most others at that time of year. The holiday trade was beginning to get underway, and many people were travelling into Cornwall for a short break away from their usual lives. This was common at this time of year, especially as not everybody could commit to going overseas, but it also put a lot of strain on the transport network.

Goldie had set off from home at her usual time to reach her place of work with plenty of time to spare, and her train arrived at Truro so she could catch her connection to Plymouth. As she crossed the footbridge to the Plymouth platform, her phone suddenly buzzed.

"It might be an important call," she said to herself, so she pulled it out of her pocket and took a look. It wasn't a call. It was a news bulletin. There were reports of very heavy congestion on the major trunk roads, so people were being advised to avoid driving where possible. Goldie shrugged. This often happened at this time of year.

As her connection pulled in, she noticed something strange. "That's odd. The train is considerably more full than normal." As the train stopped and the doors slid open, she stepped onboard, having no idea she would find herself caught up in one of the worst transport messes in the history of the county.





Down at Falmouth, the engines were already at work. The dockside was being shunted, and this meant plenty of work. Salty and Porter had split the work between them, so Salty was working the western quay. "Plenty of fish here!" he said. "It must be a bumper season!"

"Sounds like it," Sunny said. "Dad's planning a fish pie for tonight. It's something to really look forward to."

Meanwhile, at the station, Charles was being attached to the passenger coaches, but noticed something seemed to be wrong. The train was much busier than usual, and seemed to have more people onboard than was usual at this time of day.

"Zipp, the train is busier than normal," he commented. "The porters are loading more mail than is normal, and the passengers are still boarding with only a minute to departure!"

Zipp looked back and nodded. "You're right," she said. "I haven't seen this many passengers since a diesel gala. The BBC did warn to expect potential problems on the road today, so maybe they're taking the train."

There were so many people trying to board that the guard delayed the departure to allow them to get onboard. But at last the train got underway. Charles rumbled out of the station and shifted the weight up the line, passengers adding considerably to the weight. And as he made his way from station to station, more and more passengers got on, to the point the coaches seemed to be packed with nothing but bodies. Some people were even riding in the luggage van on the back of the train (which, obviously, was not designed to carry passengers).

After a tough run up the line, Charles rumbled into the platform and stopped. The doors opened and the passengers got off, changing platforms for their connections.

Charles then spotted Alexandra sitting in the bay platform. "It's a busy morning!" he said. "Any idea what's going on?"

"Not a clue," Alexandra said. "All I noticed was that I had a lot more passengers than normal- the commuters for Plymouth were there in bigger numbers than for that bit of the day, normally."

Charles sighed. "I can only hope nothing bad has happened."

Zipp hopped out to get Charles uncoupled and run round, when she felt her phone buzz. She knew the sound very well. A few years ago the United Kingdom had introduced a national alert system based on the American Emergency Alert System, to warn people if something serious was happening and to avoid it where possible.

The alert this time was warning people that Newquay Airport, the main airport in Cornwall, was shut. This, apparently, was resulting in a spike in road travel and cars and trucks on the road. This was a serious problem, as all that extra road traffic was likely to cause turmoil at some point.





Down at Falmouth, things were already going wrong. The road from Falmouth to Truro was now shut after a lorry had crashed into a barrier. The tank it was carrying had swung across the road, blocking both lanes and preventing any traffic from passing.

The emergency services were waiting on a crane to help with recovery efforts, but in the meantime the road was shut, and this meant any freight had to be moved by rail. This was being loaded into vans and trucks, ready to be conveyed up the line.

"Did you hear what's happened?" Sunny asked Izzy. "Apparently there's been a serious crash on the A21."

"Which one's the A21?" Izzy asked.

"The main road into and out of Cornwall," Sunny explained. "The road's completely blocked. Traffic is completely at a standstill, and otherwise people are being encouraged to seek other forms of transport."

"No wonder the station is so busy," Izzy said.

"And we're being rushed off our wheels," Porter added. "It's been nothing but chaos here!"

In fact, some students at the University who lived in other towns had been unable to get into lectures and were taking them from home.





Goldie was still on the train, despite the fact she should have been at work an hour ago. What made it even more frustrating was that they were held just outside the station, which was annoying to her.

"Passengers," said the driver, "we apologise for the delay. There has been a signal failure, which means we are being held here until further notice. We at Great Western Railway apologise for the inconvenience, and ask you continue to stay patient."

Goldie had already notified her employer what was going on, and continued to wait there as there was not much else she could do. Temperatures were beginning to climb onboard the train as the air conditioning had failed. This was going to be a very warm day indeed.





Back at Truro, more and more freight was arriving at the goods yard to be processed. Brookes and Nigel were working as fast as they could to get the mess shifted, but it was proving to be very tough.

"I can't believe they're expecting us to handle all this stuff!" Brookes grumbled.

"I know they say that this sort of thing is vital for the nation, but this seems excessive," Nigel concurred. "The freight is arriving faster than we can process it!"

"The load will eventually lighten up," Onyx said, although her optimism in her voice was not exactly matched by her facial expression.

They kept working as best as they could, but it was proving to be more than they could handle. On the nearby goods line, Bellerophon wheezed to a stop with a heavy freight train. "Never... again..." he wheezed. "That was much heavier than I'm designed to pull!"

"We all need to pull our weight, but if this is what's to come I'll need a break before long," Misty replied.

The situation was so desperate anything with wheels was being wheeled into service. Vans which hadn't been touched in years were being loaded with fish and cargo, and being used to convey heavy loads to their destinations. Ships were constantly docking and unloading cargo at such a rate that Salty and Porter couldn't keep up.

The dockside was now profoundly smelling of fish. Overloaded passenger trains made their way up and down the line, with virtually every goods loop packed with outbound trains and returning wagons.

Unfortunately, the day was only going to get worse.
> The Day Cornwall Stopped, Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The situation was only getting more and more frantic as the minutes passed. The news was dominated by the growing traffic on the roads, as cars were getting caught in tailbacks. Attempts to get around the traffic hadn't worked; the roads of Cornwall simply weren't designed for all this traffic, and the cars were getting stuck in other tailbacks.

A driver was being interviewed about his experiences, and he wasn't hugely happy about the situation. "These people couldn't organise a drinking contest in a brewery!" he said. "How can organising traffic be so difficult?!"

The situation wasn't helped by a lack of communication. Devon was also experiencing severe road problems, and it was routing traffic into Cornwall along minor roads- the exact same roads that Cornwall was using to reroute traffic away from the trunk roads. The result was even more holdups.

The situation was soon even more desperate. On the dockside in Falmouth, a passenger ship suddenly docked at the harbour.

"A passenger ship?" Izzy asked. "We haven't seen one of those in quite a long time around these parts."

"Going by boat was very popular in the 18th Century," Salty clarified. "When the landscape was poorly developed and filled with highwaymen, going by sea up the country was frequently considered safer and faster."

"But we don't have enough coaches for them!" Sunny said. "We'll have to get some to the dock to get them to the station."

Passengers were getting off onto the dockside, rather annoyed there were no coaches.

"What a smell!" said one passenger. "I never thought they'd take us to this smelly harbour."

"Agreed!" said another. "I don't pay road tax to see them make a pig's breakfast of managing the roads!"

Porter glanced over. "Do you want a lift over to the station or not? Because if you do, stop complaining."

A pair of goods trains arrived within minutes of one another, with the resulting trains being too large to stable in the sidings.

"Charles?" Sophie called. "Could you help me take these trains apart?"

"We'll have to dismantle them on the main. They're too long to squeeze into the sidings!"

Pipp shook her head. "Just the day for Ray to have mechanical problems."





Goldie had arrived at the office block where she worked, but to her surprise the place was largely empty. Her boss was in, though. "Morning Jeremy," she said.

"Morning Gloria," Jeremy replied. "Glad you could make it in today."

"That was my question too," Goldie answered. "Where is everybody?"

"I got a lot of calls stating people couldn't make it today," Jeremy sighed. "All this travel chaos is preventing people from getting to work. Why does everything seem to stop working at the worst possible moment?"

Goldie nodded. "Well, I'll get to work if that's alright by you."

"By all means, but I doubt we'll be able to get much done with the lack of people in."

Taking this as cue to go, Goldie walked to her desk and took a seat. Her phone was still buzzing with news of the travel chaos across the southwest, but she resisted the urge to look at them. She had to focus now.





Back up at Truro, the yards were completely blocked back with trucks. There were so many the line was about to spill out onto the mainline. "We'll have to start stabling these in the goods loop," Nigel said to Brookes.

"What if a freight comes this way?" Brookes pointed out. "Trains are still moving from further west with cargo for Plymouth." As if to answer his point, a pair of diesels roared past with empty tankers from Burngullow.

"What a mess," Nigel conceded. "We'll need to keep those lines clear even as- really? More trucks?"

"Why not leave some on the access line at Penwithers Junction until we can finish processing this lot?"

Argyle nodded. "That's not a bad idea, actually. Let's do it."





This chaos continued for much of the day, and was still going late at night. A late night clay working was making its way towards Liskeard, with a Class 66 and 30 loaded hoppers. The line narrowed up ahead for the single track to Largin Viaduct. The driver on the lead engine took his radio out. "Banker, reduce power. Speed drops ahead over the viaduct."

"Understood," the banker driver replied.

The train rolled past the green signal and onto the bridge, when suddenly there was a sound up ahead. "Something's not right here."

And then, everything happened at once. The shape of an IET suddenly loomed out of the darkness, going far too fast to stop!

The driver of the freight blasted the horn at them, but knew this was too late to stop. The two lead units slammed into each other, knocking them to one side. The heavier freight engine slammed into the retaining wall of the viaduct, and plummeted down into the valley below, dragging several of the hoppers with it.

The passenger train was slided in half by the trucks, and several coaches were badly compressed.

The driver of the banking engine felt the train jerk to a stop, but before he could radio the front there was a bright flash of light, and a new light rose over Cornwall.





Zipp was suddenly awoken by frantic buzzing on the radio. She switched frequencies and listened in on the conversation.

"Plymouth Control, Plymouth Control! Is anybody there, over?"

"Plymouth Control, please state your train number and nature of incident, over."

"Plymouth Control, this is Six Whiskey Six Four Par to Plymouth Clay. We've been involved in a collision at Largin Viaduct, over."

"Six Whiskey Six Four, understand you have been involved in a collision at Largin Viaduct. Are you in lead or banking engine, over?"

"Plymouth Control, Banker. The lead engine and most of the train has left the rails and fallen into the valley below. There's destroyed coaches up ahead and a large fire down below, over."

"Six Whiskey Six Four, understood. Dispatching rescue services now."

Zipp knew there was no time to waste. She grabbed her gear and raced towards Charles, who was stabled in a nearby siding. "Come on! They need help!"

"Who needs help?" Charles asked quietly, clearly tired.

"There's been a crash on Largin Viaduct!"

"Sound the alarm!" Charles shouted.

Charles soon led the formation, with Sophie and Rebecca joining them for the run up to Largin. They came to a stop just behind the rear locomotive of the freight. Sophie and Rebecca backed up to the previous loop, whilst Charles coupled up to pull the Class 66 free. "Come on! We have to work together!"

Once the diesel and the rear wrecked trucks were pulled free, Sophie got to work removing the rear damaged trucks. The deeper they got into the crash the more hellish it became. The fire down below was burning hot, and the coaches had been smashed apart in the crash. Once the worst of the wreckage had been pulled clear, fire crews got to work, cutting people out of the wreckage. An air ambulance was also deployed to the scene, succesfully rescuing the driver of the lead freight engine.





Goldie finally clocked off from her work late in the day, and prepared to leave when she suddenly got a news flash.

TRAIN CRASH ON LARGIN VIADUCT - CORNISH MAINLINE CLOSED FOR FORSEEABLE FUTURE.

She then saw she had a lot of missed calls, all from Argyle. She dialled back. "Hello?"

"Goldie? Thanks the stars you're safe. I thought you were on the train that crashed!"

"I stayed later as I had a lot to get done," Goldie replied. "But it looks like I won't be getting back to Falmouth tonight. I'll stay in a hotel here tonight, work the day, then see where it goes from there."

Jeremy looked over. "The company will cover the cost of a hotel room for you."

"Thank you," Goldie replied. "I'll try to be home when I can. Tell Sunny I'm OK."

"I will and- wait a second, several engines are just returning now."

Goldie switched to a news view, and saw footage of two old diesels at work at the crash site. "Wait a second. Is that Charles and Sophie?"





The next morning dawned, and the darkest day in Cornwall's recent history was over. The travel chaos had tragically claimed lives, but it was thanks to the quick thinking of many that the situation was nowhere as severe as it could have been.

Work on clearing the county of abandoned cars and derailed stock was soon underway, with the investigation into the accident commencing shortly.

And the report was conclusive- a mixture of faulty signal wiring and an overworked rail dispatcher had resulted in disaster, as he had accidentally routed two trains into each other. The viaduct was shut for the forseeable future, as it needed heavy repairs. Though in anothe remarkable moment, the diesel at the bottom of the valley was recovered and later returned to service.

But nobody would ever forget the Day Cornwall Stopped.
> Ghosts of the Past, Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful, bountiful, bright morning, and Misty stood by the lineside looking excitedly forward. A familiar sound had started up in the distance, and that meant only a single thing.

A train was coming!

Misty leaned excitedly against the fence as she waited for the train to arrive. It was always fun seeing the trains go by. The speed at which they passed was always exciting to see, as well as seeing the passengers as the children waved. They always thought the children were waving to them, whereas of course the children knew who the real stars of the show were.

But as the train approached her position, a strange voice began speaking, and the sky began to darken. "Misty..."

Misty looked behind her. "Who's there?"

But nobody replied.

Just as the train roared into position, its whistle blowing loudly at the crossing, Misty opened her eyes as a figure lumbered out of the darkness. Before Misty could react-





-She suddenly woke up, and looked around her room in confusion. "What in the world?" she asked herself, aware she was the only person in the room. She pulled herself out of bed and placed her feet on the floor. The clock revealed it was the middle of the night, and this meant several hours before anybody else woke up.

She'd been having those strange dreams for a bit now. And all of them had taken place in a location that was completely flat and near a railway line. None of it made sense, and yet somehow the place was familiar to her.

"What in the world is going on with me?" she asked quietly, glancing back at herself in a bedside mirror. "I need to talk with my friends before anything else strange happens. Hopefully I'll be able to sleep a bit more before I have to go talk to them."





The next morning, Misty sent a message to her friends, asking them to meet outside the Fisherman's Arms in the morning. Sure enough, she found them there, all doing a number of different things. Sunny was reading, so no surprises there. Zipp had brought a magazine with her, which seemed rather like her. Izzy was eating an enormous ice cream (quite why she was doing this in March was anybody's guess), and Hitch was checking something on his phone.

Pipp, on the other hand, was watching a music video on YouTube. Misty quickly recognised the song. It was the one the bands at the East Lancashire Railway event had sung.

"We don't hang our heads/
When things get too hard!
We put our hands together!
'Cause we're forever frie-"

Zipp quickly nudged Pipp. "Pipp, Misty's here."

Pipp stopped the video and looked up. "Hey Misty! How ya doin'?"

"I have something important to tell you!" Misty said.

"Well, we figured as much from the message," Hitch answered.

"Is it Opaline? Is she coming?" Sunny asked.

"No," Misty replied.

"Then she may already be here!" Izzy said.

Pipp gasped. "No. Way! Cheval de Lune is not the correct clothing line for doing batle with a crazy woman!"

"Your idea to wear posh clothes, not me," Zipp replied. She fiddled with her jacket. "Seems fine to me."

Misty then grabbed a megaphone and shouted down it. "EVERYBODY, PLEASE BE QUIET!"

There was a moment's silence. "My eardrums," Izzy said quietly.

"You see," Misty said, "I've been having bad dreams."

"Haven't we already done this plotline?" Izzy asked.

"Yes, but rather differently," Zipp said. "That was to do with the subconscious, but this probably won't. Anyway, Misty, from the top."

Misty nodded. "I was standing by the lineside somewhere, and a train was approaching. Then the landscape turned dark, and somebody walked towards me. Then it ended."

"That sounds like it was cheese inspired," Pipp said.

"Yeah, we could do with some more details," Zipp said. "Was the figure Opaline?"

"I don't think so," Misty said. "I couldn't really make them out in the light." 

"Evil is often poorly lit for some reason," Sunny said.

But the weird thing is a recognise the place it happened in. I think it's somewhere from my past," Misty said. She then spotted the magazine Zipp was reading. "In fact, the engine was that one!"

Zipp looked at the front of the magazine. "Oh, this? That's the Romney, Hythe, and Dymchurch. Miniature railway in Kent."

"It could mean that you used to live in Kent!" Hitch said. "Izzy, can you get some images up from the line?"

"Sure!" Izzy said, humming as she consulted her image searcher. At last, she had some images up on the display, and began scrolling through. "This is adorable! Those engines are so small!"

Misty was looking over her shoulder, and glanced at the display. "There!" she said. "That's it! The level crossing next to the children's playground!"

"Well then, there's no time to waste!" Zipp said. "To Hythe we go!" She began to confidently stride away.

"How are we even supposed to get to Hythe?" Izzy asked.

"I'll figure something out!" Zipp replied.





The bus pulled into the car park at Hythe station on the Romney, Hythe, and Dymchurch, and the crew got off. "Thank you for travelling Arriva Kent Buses," said the driver. "Have a nice day out!"

"That was bumpy," Izzy said. "But I had fun going flying on the speed bumps!"

Sunny rubbed her back. "Hopefully the trains have padded seats. My back's in a mess."

"Tell me about it," Pipp complained. "My vertebrae have been shaken loose!"

"Wheeling out big words, are we?" Hitch asked.

"I'm an influence, not an airhead," Pipp replied. She then brought her phone up and hit a button. "Heya, Pippsqueaks! Just to let you all know I'm goin' unplugged for the day. Sometimes it's super good to move away from screens for a bit. See ya!"

She stopped the stream and popped her phone in a pocket.

Zipp looked over. "You're not really stopping because of that, are you?"

Pipp snorted. "Well, duh! The signal out here is TERRIBLE!"

"You might need to see a doctor about this."

Pipp groaned. "For the ten billionth time, Zipp, I do NOT have a phone addiction! If I did, you wouldn't be able to talk to me any other way! Sheesh, it's hard enough playing the extrovert without you breathing down my neck all the time!"

Zipp rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She glanced over to Misty as they entered the booking office. "Anything yet?"

"Yes, actually," Misty said.

Zipp took her phone out and hit record. "Hit us with it!"

Misty looked at the wall. "This painting is nice. Painting machines is a real skill!"

Zipp groaned, and stopped the recording. "Not what I meant, Misty!"

Sunny walked over. "Be patient and give her time."

Zipp checked her watch. "How can we dilly dally when Opaline could strike at any moment?"

Meanwhile, Pipp was paying for the tickets, and Misty was looking at a selection of objects in the gift shop which were about the line. "This looks familiar," she said, as she took a look inside a guidebook.

Suddenly, something formed in her mind. She was smaller, and standing underneath a vast trainshed. Steam was pouring into the air, and people were getting on and off the trains as they arrived and departed.

When the imagery ended, Zipp was standing next to her. "Anything yet?" she asked.

"Something under a station roof, but it was rather inconsequential," Misty answered.

Zipp rolled her eyes. "We're getting nowhere at this rate!"

"Shall we go to the platform?" Pipp suggested.

"Good idea!" Hitch said. So they went to the platform, stepping under the overall roof of Hythe station. It was very large and grand, and this made the station feel a lot bigger than it actually was.

"This is pretty impressive!" Izzy said, as she looked to the coaches. "These coaches are tiny!"

"The rails are only fifteen inches apart," Zipp pointed out. "It's the world's smallest public railway for a reason."

"Actually," Sunny said, "that honour is held by the Wells and Walsingham Light Railway, which is 10 and a quarter inch gauge."

"Not sure that really counts, Sunny," Zipp replied, as a whistle sounded through the area. "Sounds like a train is coming."

Just then, a passenger train rolled in from outside the station, consisting of many green coaches and a dark green express engine with a long tender. It had a long, sleek boiler with a round topped firebox, and was painted light green with white and black boiler banding.

"It's Flying Scotsman!" Pipp said, jokingly.

"Green Goddess is my name, actually," said the engine, revealing them to be female.

Izzy bounced over. "Awwww! She's just like a toy train!"

Green Goddess looked annoyed. "I may be smaller than most engines, but I function in precisely the same way. In fact, I probably work harder than most heritage engines, as at my size 25 mile per hour running is like 75 miles per hour for the bigger engines!"

Misty looked at the engine. "I don't think she looks familiar."

"Do you know a Misty?" Zipp asked.

Green Goddess thought for a moment. "Hmmmm. Name doesn't ring a bell, but I have an idea. One of the other engines at New Romney might know. Hop aboard and I'll take you there on the next train."

So they hopped onboard, and once Green Goddess had been turned and watered they were on their way.





"Where could they have gone?" Lady Haven asked, checking the house CCTV. "It's not like them to just suddenly up and vanish!"

"They probably went to the town or something like that," Lord Haven said. "Let's look around Falmouth and see what we find."

So they did, but their search turned up no results. "Why not try phoning Pipp?" Lord Haven suggested.

"I did, but it went straight to voicemail," Lady Haven replied. "It's not like her to have her phone switched off."

Lord Haven nodded. "Well, you did suggest she try a day where she doesn't use the device."

"Yes, I did. I remember all too well the tantrums that resulted when I confiscated the device and replaced it with a brick for a few days."

"Whilst being off devices is good for health," Lord Haven conceeded, "we no longer live in an age where we can afford to disconnect for too long. It's all a process of moderation."

Outside the Fisherman's Arms, they bumped into Alphabittle. "Good morning, Alphabittle," Lady Haven said. "Have you seen Misty anywhere?"

"No!" Alphabittle said. "I'm looking for her myself. I have no idea where she might have gone."

"Hold on a minute," Lord Haven said, looking at the table. "Zipp was reading that this morning. Romney, Hythe, and Dymchurch?"

Alphabittle's eyes looked at the page, and he nodded. "I think I know where they are. I'll get my motorbike so you can follow me there."

He headed off as Lady Haven produced her radio. "Parker? Procure the Bentley."

"Yes, m'lady."





Out on the Romney, Hythe, and Dymchurch, not much progress was being made- apart from the journey of course. Izzy had slid the door open and was leaning out. "THIS FEELS SO MUCH FASTER THAN IT IS!" she yelled, her face being blasted by wind.

Sunny and Zipp, however, weren't paying attention. "Zipp, you really need to dial it back a bit," Sunny said.

"We can't afford to dial it back!" Zipp snapped. "We're going slow and wasting time, all whilst our enemies are probably preparing to strike! You know what Opaline is capable of!"

Misty, however, had zoned out. Another train had flown by on the other line, pulled by a dark green engine with smoke deflectors. This had triggered a memory.

She was sitting in her dad's lap, whilst he was at the controls of that engine. They were whizzing along and enjoying the speed, which was exhilerating.

Just as the vision ended, Misty glanced about. "Guys, I think I used to live here," she said.

"Fill us in!" Zipp said.

"I was riding on one of the engines in my dad's lap. Did he used to work here?"

"Alphabittle never mentioned living in Kent at any time I worked on the East Lancashire," Izzy noted. "Doesn't mean he didn't though."

"Any more details?" Zipp asked.

"Not really. I just somehow know it was that dark green engine that passed us," Misty said. "I'll let you know when I have more information."

"Take all the time you need," Sunny said. "This takes time." She then glared at Zipp. "Right, Zipp?"

Zipp shrugged. "Whatever. But if we get jumped before we've figured this out don't come crying to me."

There was suddenly a whistle. "WE'RE APPROACHING A BIG STATION!" Izzy called.

The train speakers then started up. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are now approaching New Romney, where this service terminates. Please alight for connections to Hythe and Dungeness. We hope you enjoyed your journey and enjoy your day out on the Romney, Hythe, and Dymchurch Railway."

As the train pulled into the station, another service was passed on the right, pulled by a huge, dark blue engine. "Morning, Green Goddess!" he called.

"Hello Samson!" Green Goddess replied. "Nice weather for it, eh?"

"For what, I wonder?" Pipp asked, and then she saw it. "CRAFT STALLS!"

The train came to a stop and the team got out to take a look.





"How long have we been on the road?" Lady Haven asked.

"A few hours at most," Lord Haven replied. He picked up the radio. "How much further, Arthur?"

"Just a few more miles and we'll be in New Romney!" Alphabittle replied over the radio.

After those miles had rolled by, they entered a small town. "Of course!" Lady Haven said. "Alphabittle said he used to live here!"

"Seems curious the others would come here, then," Lord Haven admitted. "Seems an oddly specific place to go for them."

"Like a sailor to the sea or a kight to battle, railwaymen are always drawn back to the rails," Lady Haven said. "And railwaywomen, no less."

"We're here!" Alphabittle radioed. "I'll show my heritage railway pass to let us in."





Inside, Zipp found Pipp on a phone, googling something. "Pipp, I thought you weren't using your phone today."

Pipp looked over. "Well, I found a delightful little loophole in mom's words."

"Namely?"

"She said 'stay off your phone today'. She said nothing about using somebody else's phone. And this vendor is letting me check whether I already have something in stock!"

Zipp facepalmed. "It's the spirit of the request, Pipp, not the letter, that counts."

Suddenly, there was the sound of breaking up ahead. "Somebody got here in a hurry," Hitch said.

Minutes later, several familiar faces appeared. "How in the world did you two get over here?" Lady Haven asked her daughters.

"Too many buses to count," Pipp groaned. "My back still hasn't forgiven me."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Lord Haven asked.

"Pipp's not using her phone and mine has no signal," Zipp replied. "Service around here is seriously spotty for some reason. But how did you figure out where we were?"

Lord Haven passed her the magazine. "You left this on a bench outside the Fisherman's Arms. You really should be more careful with where you put things."

Alphabittle sighed. "Been a long time since I was last in here."

"You used to work here?" Sunny asked, who had wandered over.

"I sure did," Alphabittle replied. "Although I've lived in Bury for a long time, I actually grew up in Kent. But enough about me. Have any of you seen Misty anywhere?"

"Come to think of it, I haven't," Izzy said. "Misty? Where are you?"





Misty had somehow made her way into the lower levels of the building. "Hello? Is anybody there?"

Suddenly, a figure grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream, but a cloth was soon shoved over her face and pulled. Misty tried to fight back, but her focus began to fade. Things were drowsy... and then they went black.
> Ghosts of the Past, Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The market had turned into a scene of chaos. Hitch was peering into several nooks and crannies, looking for his friend.

"Have you found Misty yet?" Zipp asked him, also looking underneath objects.

"No luck," Hitch said. "Then again, it is hard to find somebody in a market that stuffed full of people."

"Fair point," Zipp conceded. "Well keep looking."

"She's not at the cake stand either!" Pipp added, who had just arrived. "Where in the world could she be?"

"She could have bashed into some buffers," Hitch offered.

"Or dropped down into a mine," Zipp added.

"Or fallen in the ocean as she passed a danger sign!" Pipp said. "Look how close we are to the sea!"

"Pipp, what's in your mouth?" Zipp asked.

"Macaron," Pipp replied. "It's a free sample, though I'm thinking of buying some for mom."

Sunny and Izzy then arrived. "We've searched the station yard, but there's no sign of her either!" Sunny said.

"This yard is huge!" Izzy said. "It's amazing that nobody gets lost around here!"

"So where in the world could she be?" Zipp asked.

"Perhaps she found a secret door inside a tree," Izzy suggested.

"Well that's patently ridiculous," Pipp said. "Let me guess; said door leads to a place full of dragons."

"How did you know?" Izzy asked, amazed.

"Perhaps she ended up on some island that's unknown!" Sunny suggested. "I mean, that's how we ended up on Sodor."

"How can there be an island near the British Isles that's unknown?" Hitch pointed out.

"What if it was always covered in mist?" Izzy suggested.

Zipp snorted. "That sounds very 'misterious'!"

"Now isn't the time for cracking bad jokes!" Sunny protested.

"Just trying to lower the tension a bit."

"It doesn't help we don't really know the area," Hitch said. "I'm already lost around here."

Pipp sighed. "Shame I can't use my phone to call her, you know. I might actually be able to find out where she is."

"Less complaining, more looking!"





Shapes and sounds slowly began to form in Misty's mind as she began to regain consciousness. She looked around her, aware of a voice and some light. "Huh? What's going on?"

"Ah, good, she's awake," said a familiar voice. Misty looked behind her and saw none other than Boomer standing there. "Nice of you to wake up."

"Boomer?" Misty asked. "Is that you?"

"No, I'm the Queen of Sheba. What do you think?"

"How am I here?" Misty asked, quietly, trying to move. "Wait. Why can't I move?"

"Because you're tied to a post, that's why," Boomer said, as he walked around her. "You really need to work on not getting captured. You're giving the Blossomforths a bad name."

Misty looked at him. "Why?"

"It's good to see you back in the fold," Boomer smiled. "You've caused us a lot of trouble whilst you were away, and having you back where we can keep an eye on you makes our lives so much easier. After all, this is the price you pay for betrayal."

"I didn't betray you!" Misty snapped. "You tried to kill me!"

Misty's head snapped to one side as Boomer's fist slammed into her cheek.

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak, worm."

"My name is Misty."

Boomer glared in her eyes. "Your name is whatever I decide it to be." He took out a knife. "Your life depends on the course of action you take, so I would strongly advise you think very, very carefully about what you do or say next."

Misty hung her head, unable to apply ice or anything to her now swollen cheek. "What do you want with me?"

Boomer turned around. "It's not what I want with you. It's what I want from Alphabittle."





The continued search at the market had produced no results, and everybody was growing frantic. "Any clues yet?" Izzy asked.

"Not a sausage!" Sunny answered.

"I found a hot dog, though," Hitch said, unhelpfully.

They then encountered Alphabittle, who had been conducting his own search around the place. "Where could she be? It's not like her to run off."

Suddenly, his phone went, and it was her number. "Thank the Stars!" He answered it, placing the receiver to his ears. "Hello?"

"Hello, Arthur," said the voice. "Your service with the LLF has not been forgotten. Know that the names of all the traitors are written down."

"What do you want, Boomer?"

"We have Misty, and her life depends on you doing the right thing. We want the key, Arthur. If there's any sense left in that brain of yours you'll do as you're ordered and hand it over."

Alphabittle tensed up. "You'll regret this."

"Unless you want your child to go splat I strongly advise you do as told. After all, you don't want to lose her again, do you?"

Alphabittle sighed. "Alright. I'll do as you ask. Just don't hurt her."

"Give us the key and I can promise you I shall do her no harm."

"What was that about?" Izzy asked.

"Boomer's got Misty hostage," Alphabittle said. "I'm going down there to rescue her."

"What was that about a key?" Zipp asked.

"He wants this key." Alphabittle produced it from a bag. "I'm going to give it to him."

Sunny glanced over. "If I had a penny for the number of times a family member of a friend has been used as a bargaining chip I'd have three pennies. Which isn't a lot, but it's strange it's happened three times."

"Oh, I remember now," Hitch said. "Your mom, right?"

"Are you sure giving him the key is wise, Alphabittle?" Zipp asked.

"I've already lost her once before," Alphabittle said. "I can't afford to lose her again." He began to head for the engine shed. "I'll get us down there by train. Are you coming or what?"





Once they had arrived at Dungeness, they saw the scene before them. The tide was starting to move, and Boomer stood next to Misty, his troops surrounding him. Sunny couldn't help but feel they looked better equipped than before.

"Got the key?" Boomer asked. "If you don't, Misty's life will be made a living hell."

"You did that to me anyway," Misty replied.

The knife glinted in the silvery moonlight.

Alphabittle looked at Boomer with a look of fury on his face. "You're a monster, Boomer."

Boomer laughed. "You never cease to amaze, Arthur. I'm not a monster. Unlike you, I've never killed anybody."

"That's a lie! That accident was that driver's fault!"

Misty looked up in shock. "What's he talking about, dad?"

"Enough talk," Boomer said. "Give me the key."

Alphabittle nodded, and handed it over. "Here you go. Now release her."

Boomer nodded to the soldier, and he cut her binds. He then raised the butt of his rifle and smashed her over the head.

"MISTY!" Izzy shouted.

Alphabittle looked in disbelief. "You said she'd be safe if I gave you the key!"

Boomer snorted. "No, I said I would do her no harm. I said nothing about my men."

The troops moved forward to block them from Boomer, and fired several warning shots into the air before withdrawing.

Alphabittle helped Misty up. "Are you OK?"

Misty's speech was slightly slurred, but comprehensible. "Is... he... gone?"

"Yes, he is." Alphabittle pulled her into a hug. "And he's never going to have a chance to hurt you again."





The return to New Romney was conducted in silence, but afterwards they made their way into the station cafe, where food was soon ordered for the team.

Misty had questions, though. "Dad, what did Boomer mean about the accident?"

Alphabittle sighed. "It happened before you were born. I was driving a service here, Hercules I believe was the engine. As we approached Dymchurch, an idiot motorist decided to jump the crossing, figuring he could beat the train. I don't remember the crash at all. One moment I was in the cab, the next I was in hospital with several broken limbs."

"What happened to the driver?"

"He was killed instantly when his jeep crashed into a fence post. His family decided to take me to court for alleged reckless driving, but I was cleared of all charges." Alphabittle looked down. "It weighed so heavily on my mind that I just found myself unable to take the controls of an engine again."

"Hey, at least the fight ended in our favour!" Izzy said, completely ruining the mood.

Lady Haven, who had been talking privately with her daughters, suddenly perked up. "What did you say? A fight?"

"No fists were thrown!" Zipp insisted, looking awkward.

Lady Haven looked at both her girls. "I think you have some explaining to do."





Boomer's truck rolled to a stop at a dark, secluded spot, where only a scattering of abandoned military buildings stood. He walked over to one, and pushed the key into the door before turning it.

"At last," he said, and switched his radio on. "Opaline, we've found the Strategic Reserve."
> If we Must Start Again
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning dawned, and the team gathered at New Romney station. Sunny yawned as they stopped in the station food court for breakfast. "That was a surprisingly good sleep," she said. "Thanks for pulling a few strings, Alphabittle."

"No problem," Alphabittle smiled. "I still have connections here, and the company bunkhouse is a little better than I remember it." He glanced over to Misty. "I'll rouse the staff and get some breakfast on the go."

"Sure thing, dad," Misty said quietly. "You know, I don't really know this bit of the world hugely well. Maybe I need to travel a bit more."

"That can be arranged, Misty Wisty!" Alphabittle replied, as he checked with the staff. The smell of ovens being started up was soon joined by the smell of anthracite from the engine shed.

"Misty Wisty?" Misty asked.

"It's what I used to call you as a little kid," Alphabittle answered. "Of course, I can retire it if you'd prefer but-"

"I'll give it some thought," Misty commented.

Meanwhile, Lady Haven seemed to be an a rather more agreeable mood than yesterday. "While obviously I'm still a little concerned at you two speeding off without telling me where you were going," she said, "going into action to save your friend is admirable. It would be rather hypocritical to punish you two for that, seeing as I got into plenty of similar scrapes myself when I was your age."

"Really?" Zipp asked.

"Indeed," Lady Haven replied. "That could fill a story in its own right. But what matters most is all of you are safe. I just ask if that you're dashing off somewhere, at least drop me a text at the bare minimum? And," she said quickly, before Pipp could speak, "that even applies to digital detox days."

Alphabittle wandered over. "Orders?" he asked, sliding menus to them.

"We'll study these and get back to you," Pipp replied.

Whilst they were waiting, Pipp was observing the interactions between Misty and Alphabittle. "Isn't it just so heartwarming?" she asked.

"I suppose it is," Zipp replied, who wasn't really paying attention. "I suppose Misty is more like a sibling than a friend. She has lived in our home for over a year."

"And she's welcome to stay as long as she likes, and come back whenever she wants," Lady Haven said. She smiled and walked over to Alphabittle. "I will admit, when I learned that the father of the girl I was helping to care for was an old family friend it rather surprised me at how small the world can be sometimes. But, I also wish you two nothing but the very best in the world. Although I've been many things in my life, to me the most important of those is being a mother. And speaking from experience there's nothing more wonderful than having a daughter."

"That's presumably why you had two," Alphabittle jokes.

"I helped!" Lord Haven said from across the room.

Just then, Lady Haven's phone buzzed, and she took it out of her pocket. Her face fell as she read the message. "Bother. I am needed on urgent business. See you soon!" She headed for the door. "Parker? Fetch the Bentley!"

"Yes, m'lady!"

Meanwhile, it seemed Alphabittle had had an idea. In his mind. "You said your memories of childhood were foggy, right?" he said. "I've had an idea. How about we go to places you used to enjoy going and see if any memories get triggered, huh?"

"I suppose that could work," Misty said quietly again.

"That's our cue!" Hitch said. "I need to get back to Falmouth too. I've got... er, stuff to do."

Pipp got up as well. "Does it involve ironing dogs, by any chance?"





As Alphabittle and Misty talked, Sunny and Zipp were having their own conversation on another table. "Did you hear any of that?" Zipp said. "Misty just mentioned something about a taking over the world game. If we act fast, we could figure out Opaline's plan and be able to strike where she least expects!"

"Zipp, maybe you should be detecting a little less?" Sunny suggested. "I mean, they are having a family moment."

Zipp threw her arms up in the air. "Every second we waste not dealing with this is a second for Opaline to grow more powerful- and seeing as the authorities seem unwilling to do anything about her that makes it more important. If we're just reacting to what she's doing then we dramatically increase the risk of being caught with our pants down!"

Izzy looked over. "I can't be caught with my pants down- mainly because I'm wearing a dress today!"

"Figure of speech, Izzy," Zipp replied.

"Perhaps we should have a cup of something and mull it over?" Sunny suggested.

Zipp sighed. "Oh, how British is that. The world is ending, have a cup of tea. We're in danger, have a cup of tea. We have a ready source of information to help us, but let's have a cup of tea instead."

"As long as you haven't hidden a spy drone in the tea," Sunny said. "Seriously, how did you even get it inside the smoothie bottle without me noticing?"

"I am a woman of many mysteries," Zipp replied. "And that is a trade secret, I'm afraid."

"Maybe we could investigate another lead while they're off doing something else?" Sunny suggested.

Izzy then appeared. "If you're looking for the past I think I have a lead. A family friend who used to work for the government is coming down to Falmouth, so you could ask them a few questions."

"Sounds good," Zipp said. "Let's get some food, then head off to Falmouth to meet them." She glanced to one side. "Talk about plot convenience."





Misty and Alphabittle had now left the building, and were walking along a road next to the line. "I still remember these roads like the back of my hand," Alphabittle smiled. "I must have walked every road and passage during my time in this part of the world. And to see it all again with you beside me is wonderful. Remember this tree? You used to love stopping here and resting under its leaves on hot summer's days."

"I did?" Misty asked. Truth be told she didn't remember any of this at all.

A man with a flat cap walked by. "Hello Mr Blossomforth! I haven't seen you around here in a while. Nor Misty either!"

"So everybody but me knows this stuff," Misty said. "No pressure, then."

Then, they arrived at a playground. "You used to love coming here," Alphabittle said. "The carousel was your favourite, and the trains rattling by was just the icing on the cake."

Misty looked over at the equipment. "I think I'm a bit big for this."

A teenage boy then walked past. "I remember you. You're the kid who was sick on the slide!"

"I assume that was a bad thing," Misty replied.

But the boy was out of earshot by that point.

"Let's try something else," Alphabittle said.





Meanwhile, Sunny and Zipp were back in Falmouth, and soon a train arrived. "She must be onboard this train!" Izzy said.

As the doors slid open, a woman with purply skin and white hair walked towards them. "Fancy seeing you here, Izzy!" she said.

"I live here now," Izzy replied. Dad's still connected to that oil rig project near the Scilly Isles."

"Well they should have built them near the Sensible Isles!" the woman joked. She looked over. "Funny. I don't recall you having siblings."

"I'm still an only child," Izzy replied. "But these are my friends, Sunny and Zipp!"

The woman smiled. "Well, any friend of Izzy is a friend of mine." She walked over. "I'm Elderflower."

"Nice to meet you, Elderflower," Sunny said. "May I ask how you know Izzy?"

"That's quite the story," Elderflower smiled. "I was employed in local government at the time, and was the one who signed off her birth certificate as that was rather my job. I even babysat sometimes when Aurora or Isaac were elsewhere!"

"We were wanting to ask you some stuff," Zipp said.

"Sure, but on one condition- could you convey me to Swanage first? I've always wanted to visit the seaside in Dorset."

Sunny looked over. "Didn't we just come from there?"

"Eh, coals to Newcastle," Zipp said. "I'll get a train put together so we can set off as soon as possible."





Back in Kent, Alphabittle and Misty had arrived at another location. "I enjoyed coming here after clocking off after work," Alphabittle admitted. "Of course, that often meant you came with me as well."

"OK," Misty nodded. Truth be told she didn't remember this place either. How much had she forgotten from her life?

They entered the building, and sure enough there was somebody at the counter, waiting for patrons. "A drink, sir?" he asked.

"A coffee for me," Alphabittle replied. "Anything for you, Misty?"

"No thanks," Misty replied. "I'm not thirsty."

Alphabittle nodded. "Is the Dizzie Gillespie Experience playing today?"

"You're just in time," the bartender said. "They're about to start playing in the beer garden."

"Perfect!" Alphabittle said. "Let's have a listen, shall we?"

Misty had no chance to react before she was outdoors, and all sorts of weird music assailed her eardrums.





Charles rumbled into Swanage with his train. "It doesn't feel like ten minutes since I left," he commented. "It's been two months, I know, but time can be strange sometimes."

Zipp hopped out of the cab and handed him over to a member of depot staff before walking back down the train. She then opened a door. "We're here!"

Elderflower got out, surprisingly sprightly for her age. "That was fun!" she said. "Reminds me of the old expresses down from Manchester to London. Several hours behind a steam engine- now that's something you don't see every day!"

As they walked onto main street, Sunny began to speak. "So, we had a few ques-"

"I recognise that suit!" Elderflower said, pointing to a window display. "It's so similar to the one Sir Vincent wore! Remarkable how things come back into fashion, isn't it!"

"I see," Zipp said. "But we need some info. Do you know anything about Opa-"

"And can it be? A vintage Dobson Brothers hat!" Elderflower said suddenly. "Not easy to find, these days. The safari hat they did was nothing short of marvellous. Poor Charles was so embarrassed when the Dowager gave him one?"

Zipp leaned into Sunny. "Do you have any clue what she's on about?"

"Nope!" Sunny said. "But if we can find a way to focus her thoughts we might get something useful out of her. Does Swanage have a museum? That might do the trick."

"Good idea!" said Zipp. "As mom's one of its patrons I have lifetime membership, so I can get us in, no problem. Hopefully it'll jog her memory."

"Speaking of jogging," Sunny said, "she's going pretty fast!"

Both girls took off after the surprisingly sprightly retiree.





Misty wouldn't have been able to tell you a lot about the music, other than it was a very odd experience. Her eardrums were assailed by horrible sounds from saxaphones and other instruments, and this was all far too loud.

She needed an excuse to get out of this, and found one. "I need to take a bathroom break!"

"OK," Alphabittle nodded. He didn't think too much of this. After all, Misty had loved this sort of stuff when she was younger. Why would that have changed?

When she didn't return after a few minutes he knew something was up, and so excused himself to go indoors. As he walked in, he saw Misty sitting at the bar, her head down. "Hey, is something wrong? You used to love doing these sorts of things."

Misty looked over at him. "That's the problem," she said. "Used to. But I can't remember any of it."

Alphabittle took a seat next to her. "You really can't remember?" he asked. "What did Opaline do to you?"

Misty hung her head. "I can't recall anything before Opaline. How can I even know who I am if I can't remember my own origins?"

Alphabittle had nothing to say, and let her continue.

"This is gonna be hard to hear, but the child you knew is dead. I may look like her and have the same voice, but I'm a different person to the one you knew. I've made my life in Falmouth, and something in me doesn't want to leave that behind."

"And you shouldn't have to," Alphabittle said gently, putting his arm around her. "I'm sorry for today. I was so preoccupied with recreating my memories of your childhood that I never considered the ways you've changed. I'm too stuck in the past.

"And that being the case, I think we need to start again. I'll stay in Falmouth, but I won't be taking you away from your friends. You can continue to live with Lady Haven for as long as you want- I've been out of your life for so long she's effectively your parent."

"Funny you should say that," Misty snorted. "She's asked me to start calling her mom. That's gonna take some getting used to."

Alphabittle laughed. "Fancy that. Well, I think it's time to leave this part of my life behind. A new beginning awaits us in Falmouth, and I don't want to waste a single second of it."





Meanwhile, Sunny and Zipp had lured Elderflower into the museum. Unfortunately, it was having little effect, as Elderflower was still rambling incoherently.

"And one time I attended this really strange wedding in the Dean Forest where the groom turned up covered in mud!"

"This isn't working," Sunny said.

"Tell me about it," Zipp sighed. "Wow, look at the time. If you're going to get back to Bury we'll need to be setting off now."

Elderflower nodded. "And that was like this time when an engine's water tanks were filled with milk!"

When they arrived back at the station, Charles was conveniently ready to go. "Elderflower, thank you for your time," Sunny said.

Charles snorted. "what they really mean is thank you for wasting our time."

"Charles!" Sunny snapped.

"Just saying it as it is," Charles replied.

"She's old as well," Zipp added.

"So was Robert Mugabe, yet I don't see you being polite about him!"

"They aren't remotely comparable!" Sunny retorted.

Zipp sighed. "He often makes ridiculous comparisons."

Elderflower looked over. "That reminds me!" she said. "A long long time ago, there were these secret tunnels dug deep under the ground. These tunnels were very special and very secret, as nobody was to find them. And some important people hid many things in them. When the time was right, they would bring these things out and use them in a time of crisis."

She looked at them. "And that is why badgers don't eat flies."

"Finally!" Zipp said. "We have a lead!"





"Status report," Opaline said.

"We've recovered about a quarter of the stockpile," the soldier said. "We're continuing to recover assets and prepare for the plan."

Opaline smiled. "Perfect," she said. "My plans are one step closer to victory. Now all I need to do is figure out where the Forgotten Ones are."
> Ground Force
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Falmouth Manor was suddenly quite the hive of activity. Everywhere you looked people were at work, preparing different things and getting tables and chairs set up.

Misty was very confused. "What's going on?" she asked Pipp.

Pipp glanced over. "Huh? Sorry, didn't catch that."

"I asked what's going on?" Misty asked.

"Oh!" Pipp exclaimed. "Uncle Will's coming to visit, and we're rolling out the red carpet for him!" She looked at her phone screen. "I hope he likes what we've got cooked for tonight, as I imagine weeks on the barracks will have left him wanting a proper meal."

Zipp then appeared. "They do have proper kitchens on army bases. Soldiers don't eat ration packs all the time. Besides, he is an officer, so will probably get better food than most soldiers."

"I would't last a second in that sort of place," Pipp said. "All the drab colours and marching about- it's enough to make a creative person's head spin!"

Zipp looked out of the window. "The garden kinda looks sloppy. Not sure what he'd think of it being in that state."

Just then, Pipp seemingly had an idea. "What if we did up the garden for Uncle Will's visit? I imagine he'd love to see it redone and in a new style!"

Zipp looked over. "Oh no."

Pipp shrugged her shoulders. "Come on. It's just some gardening. How hard can it be?"





"You sure nobody knows about this?" Zipp asked.

"Nope!" Pipp replied. "Just you, me, and our friends. So, has anybody got any ideas as to how we'll redo the garden?"

"Can I just say now I know very little about gardening," Sunny said.

"Why is that?" Misty asked.

"I live next to a lighthouse! There's not enough space for a garden!"

"True that," Izzy said. "I don't have a garden either, to be honest."

"I know a bit," Hitch said. "I asked Grandma if she could help."

"Could she?"

"No. She's playing bowls today, as is her custom."

"We're in luck then!" Zipp said. "So was Drake!"

"Who's Drake?" Misty asked.

"I'll explain later," Zipp replied. "Anyway, anybody got any ideas?"

Pipp looked about. "I think we could have a water feature, and some plants as well."

"Why not a river of gravel?"

"Why?" Hitch asked.

"Because," Sunny replied, "it requires less maintenance than actual water. And we've got plenty of ballast we can use- they've been storing ballast from the realignment of Aller Junction in the sidings near Truro."

"Not really convinced that's what it's meant for, Sunny," Hitch replied.

"Dad said that all gardens need sheds," Misty said. "Why don't we put one in?"

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Pipp smiled. "I'll add it to the list!"

"If we're putting a water feature in, how will we lay the pipework?" Izzy asked.

"Easy," Pipp smiled. "We bring in a digger and dig a trench for the pipe to run through. We then cover it back up!"

"We could always borrow the Network Rail digger from the construction train," Sunny suggested. "It's not like it's being used."

"How do I always get roped into these things?" Hitch complained.





With their tasks decided, they went their separate ways. Sunny took Salty up to Truro to collect some ballast and a digger, whilst Pipp got to work figuring out the lines for the trench for the water pipes. Zipp, on the other hand, had gone to look for a shed. But at Truro she was greeted by a strange sight.

"Err, what is this?" she asked.

"A shed, as requested," said the engine.

"I meant a garden shed, not a Class 66!"

Luckily, the confusion was soon cleared up, and a garden shed was loaded in flatpack form into a van. They even got some flowers as part of the deal, which was quite a nice surprise.

They were soon on their way back down the line to Falmouth Manor, where some work had already begun on the water feature. Large numbers of pipes had been lined up, only needing to be joined together by many hands.

"How are we going to get water into them?" Misty asked.

"By connecting them to the water supply!" Pipp replied. "I've got this all figured out!"

Hitch, on the other hand, was using his quadbike to drag the pipe sections around. "I'd forgotten I had this!" he said. "It would be very handy in other situations!"

"Yeah, I'd been wondering where that had gotten to," Izzy admitted.

Sure enough, Sunny got to emptying the gravel out of the hoppers- and onto the floor.

"Sunny, we're supposed to tip that into the channels after they've been dug!" Pipp pointed out.

"Oops," Sunny said. "Well, can somebody help me clean this up?"

Luckily, unloading the shed and the plants proved to be easier, and the plants were soon dotted around the garden in plant pots.

Finally, the ramp was dropped, and the digger was unloaded. Sunny was put in charge of this, and drove it over to where the dig marks began, leaving track marks all over the garden.

"How will you know where to dig?" Zipp said. "You've driven over the markings!"

"I'll work backwards," Sunny replied, and stopped the machine where the work was meant to begin.

Whilst Sunny was busy ripping up the landscape, Zipp was working on the shed. Very slowly, as it turned out. "Right, we've got one end, we've got the screws, we've got the other parts-"

"What's taking so long?" Pipp asked.

"I need to ensure all the parts are in the right place before I start building," Zipp replied. "If I get the bits mixed up I'll have to take it apart and start again, which will waste everybody's time."

"We are working against the clock here," Pipp pointed out.

"So don't rush me. Rushing means you make mistakes," Zipp answered.

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud crash, and they looked over to see the digger on its side in the ditch.

"What on Earth?" Zipp asked, and they both ran over and pulled the door open.

"What happened, Sunny?" Pipp asked.

"I put it in forward gear by mistake," Sunny replied. "Now how are we going to get it out?"

"More importantly, how are we going to get it back to Truro without anybody noticing?" Zipp asked.

"Hitch? Could you help us pull the digger out?" Pipp asked.

He did, but this wasted valuable time. The mess made was quite bad, and they had to work even quicker to get the hole filled, as the trench was now useless. Instead, Pipp had the bright idea of running the pipes along the surface and connecting it to the swimming pool.

Proceedings were then interrupted with Hitch falling off his quadbike and hitting the ground. "Ow!" he said, as he sat up. "Where's a pile of conveniently placed mattresses when you need them?"

The whole situation was, put simply, a mess. The water feature had arrived, and had been connected to the pipes and was ready to dispense water.

And the shed had been built, which was an achievement.

Sunny then returned with Salty, ready to load the digger (which was still in the hole somehow). "Come on! We have to clean this up before they get back!"

"You needn't bother."

The assembled group turned around to see that Lady Haven and William were standing there. And Lady Haven did not look hugely impressed.

"Would somebody care to explain why the garden is in such a mess?"

Zipp tapped Pipp. "Not such a good idea, was it?"

Pipp walked over slowly. "I had the idea of redoing the garden for Uncle Will's arrival. I had something grander in mind than what I could achieve. I guess I bit off more than I could chew."

William looked at the scene. "It's rather avant-garde," he said. "Still life with enormous trench and crashed digger. And whatever that is over there."

"It's the old water feature from Purbeck House," Zipp pointed out. "It was going to be the centrepiece."

Lady Haven sighed. "Whilst I appreciate the gesture, you should have asked permission first. Speaking from experience, it's always best to get the views of others before committing to a project." She looked at the plan. "There's virtually no chance you could have pulled this off with your resources. Now then, I'm going to get changed. And then we shall clean all of this up."





Cleaning the garden up took hours. The gravel was used to fill the trench, and the pipes were dismantled and put back into storage. The water feature saw the same fate, and the digger was conveyed back up to Truro- with the fuel tank refilled, no less.

Once the mess was cleared, work on the true festivities could commence. As the collected Havens gathered around the table in all their finery, Lady Haven had the following word of wisdom to impart. "Fancy displays and elaborate gardens may well be fine and good, but ultimately they do not make a house a home."

After that day's chaos, everybody was glad to agree.
> Never Mind the Breeze Blocks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Right, you ready?" Pipp asked. "Here they come!"

She dropped back into one of the bushes she and her friends were hiding in. "This will be the best surprise ever!"

As she said this, two sets of footsteps echoed in the distance, along with a strange rumbling sound. But this didn't concern them at all. Perhaps it was just some garden waste that needed moving; after all, there was still some to move from the garden redesign fiasco a few days ago.

"Get ready, Hitch," Pipp said. "Zipp will give you the signal!"

Zipp glanced back. "And hold it... and hold it... and now!"

Hitch pulled the ripcord, and suddenly a whole host of party poppers went off. The heads of all assembled popped up over the bush.

"HAPPY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!"

They all stopped in confusion when they saw Fifi standing there instead, pulling a cart loaded with mail. "I can only assume that was meant for somebody else. My wedding anniversary is in May."

Pipp looked downcast. "Sorry, Fifi," she said. "I thought you were mom."

"No harm done," Fifi smiled. "Though why did you use party poppers?"

"Because we legally cannot buy fireworks," Hitch replied. "We're not old enough."

"I could always find you some," Fifi said. "That way, when they do walk this way you can set them off!"

Pipp nodded. "That sounds great. Thanks for the help, Fifi!"

"No problem!" the postwoman replied. "Always glad to help." And she continued up the pathway.

Zipp sighed. "Now we've wasted those resources for nothing," she said. "It'll take us ages to set it all up again!"

"Zipp, it's OK," Sunny said. "I'm certain they'll appreciate any sort of gesture that shows how much you case about them. You don't need party poppers for everything."

"Which is good, because we don't have any!" Izzy said, who had somehow produced a vacuum cleaner and was sucking up the streamers from the party poppers.

"Your parents might just be running late," Hitch suggested. "Speaking of which, has anybody seen Misty anywhere?"

"She was still in the house last I looked," Pipp said. "But I think I know where dad is."

"And I have a sneaking suspicion as to where mom is," Zipp added.





Lady Haven sat at her desk, looking at the screen in front of her. Her list of things to do wasn't getting any shorter, and she frowned. "Even splitting the work half and half with Robert and there's still so much to do. Perhaps I should delegate more tasks to the girls." She paused. "But only if they want to, of course. They're busy enough as it is." She looked back. "Right, Item 81 of 300... Wait, what time is it?"

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Hello?"

"Zipp and her friends are here to see you!" Zoom replied from her watchpost next to the door.

"Let them in!" Lady Haven replied. She wheeled her chair round and smiled. "Good morning. Or is it afternoon? I've lost track of time, so my only real reference point was Elevenses, but... sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"It's One PM," Pipp replied.

"Or thirteen hundred hours for users of the 24 hour clock," Hitch helpfully clarified.

Lady Haven looked at a clock. "Oh dear. I am running rather behind." She pulled up the planner. "Unfortunately, meeting you outside for tea and cake is item 152 and I'm nowhere near close to getting to that."

"How many items are there?" Sunny asked, out of curiosity.

"300," Lady Haven replied. "And that's after splitting the workload!"

"Yikes," Izzy said. "That's a lot to do."

Lady Haven sighed. "Believe me, I would love to take a break from it all, but there's simply too much to do. This one case has consumed all of my attention."

"Oh?" Zipp asked. "What's going on?"

Lady Haven pointed to some documents. "I've hired some construction companies to redo parts of the garden, but they're busy arguing over who is doing what. It's consumed a lot of my energy as it is, and it's why I'm running behind time."

Zipp then had an idea. "Then how about we handle everything else whilst you get that sorted out? Let me do some quick mental arithmetic." She hummed for a moment. "Three hundred minus eighty two is two hundred and eighteen. There's six of us, so two hundred and eighteen divided by six is... 36.3 recurring. That's roughly 36 tasks per person."

Lady Haven looked concerned. "I will warn you, taking on all of these tasks is not easy. If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well, and that's important- if work's done sloppily it will simply need to be done again later." She paused. "Are you certain you want to be Duchess?"

Zipp smiled. "Come on, mom. How hard can it be?"

"Don't say that!" Izzy said.

Lady Haven nodded. "OK then. If you need any help, give me a call. Have fun!" She then popped out of the door.

Moments later, tasks began piling up in their planners. Pipp glanced over. "Zipp, how do you plan to resolve the recurring task?"

"Easy!" Zipp said. "We each do 35 seperately, and then do the last ones together. Easy as pie."

"Right," Sunny said. "35 on list, 35 to go. Perhaps I need a planner myself."





Lady Haven strode outside, glad to be back in the fresh air after a while at a desk. As much as she enjoyed her life, it was extremely busy, and checking the clock she realised she had forgotten to have lunch. Oh well. She could have the kitchen staff make some sandwiches to keep her going to afternoon tea.

She stopped at the site to see two sets of workmen standing there, arguing.

"It's our job to put the fountain in!" said one.

"No, you're doing the river!" said the other group.

"Then why do you have plumbing tools!" said the others.

Lady Haven coughed. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but what appears to be the problem here?"

The first foreman looked over. "There appears to be some sort of mixup. My work orders state I'm putting the fountain in, but this other group think they're putting the fountain in as well."

"Our work orders state we are doing that!" said another foreman.

Lady Haven stepped over. "Let me take a look," she said, and compared them side by side. "Yes, there does appear to have been some sort of error," she said. "I didn't order two fountains, for one. As a compromise, why not one group of you build the fountain, and the other group lay the pipework?"

The second foreman nodded. "Sounds good to me. Fire up the diggers, boys!"

"Please try not to leave track marks all over the place!" Lady Haven called, before glancing to her phone. "I wonder how they're all getting along."





Zipp was led to a room in the house, and the door opened. "The important item here is taking a portrait- with a group of local children to honour our support of local causes."

Zipp recognised three of the kids as fans of Pipp, but the others were new to her. "This shouldn't be too hard."

The children looked up. Seashell was the first to speak. "Look, it's Zipp!"

"I thought the Duchess was coming to see us!" said one child.

"Well, I'm the next Duchess, heaven forbid any accidents," Zipp said. "I'm just, uh, getting some practice in."

"We don't want the next duchess!" said another child. "We want the real Duchess!"

Before Zipp could say anything the kids mostly jumped out of their seats and began running around the room.

"Hey, watch it!" Zipp shouted. "Those sculptures are very old! And stop banging on the piano! We just had it tuned!"

She shook her head as she ran around after the unruly children. "Honestly, if I'd behaved like this at your age I'd have been grounded!"

"Well you're not my mom!" said one of them.

Zipp grabbed her radio. "Thunder, I need some help getting some kids under control."

"Roger that, on my way."

Zipp facepalmed. "This is much harder than I thought."





Meanwhile, Izzy was doing a ribbon cutting in front of a new coffee shop. She picked up the scissors. "And I hereby declare this shop open!"

She pushed the blades in- and nothing happened. "That's weird."

So she tried again- several times. And failed, spectacularly. "Hang on, I've got an idea!"

She then sped off, before returning a few moments later with her tricicyle. "Stand back, everybody!" She hit the accelerator and charged into the ribbon.

Which still didn't break.

"This is hard to watch," said another observer.





It wasn't smooth sailing at the building site either. Large scale works had torn deep holes in the ground, meaning the garden looked more like a World War One battlefield than the garden of a stately home.

"Keep scooping the ground out!" shouted a worker.

"Careful with the plant pots!" called another.

"Got the connector pump?" asked another. "That'll be needed to connect the pipes together!"

Lady Haven sighed. "This is organised chaos of the highest order."

Just then, Lord Haven arrived. "Everything going fine, dear?"

Lady Haven sighed. "It could be better. Right now I've delegated a lot of tasks to other people, and I'm overseeing the garden turn into the Somme."

"It could be worse," Lord Haven said. "I saw somebody trying to run down a ribbon with a tricicyle, and I also saw Hitch trying to give an opening speech- not very well, may I add."

Lady Haven nodded. "Seems they're having a harder time of it than I thought."

"WHY WON'T THEY SIT STILL?!"

Lady Haven then felt her phone buzz, and saw a message from Zipp.

Children are unruly.

Please help!

Lady Haven nodded. "I was hoping they could be trusted to behave, but clearly I trust too easily." She glanced to her husband. "Could you keep an eye on them for a bit?"

"Of course," Lord Haven replied.

Lady Haven made her way back indoors, before spotting a photo. Namely her and her husband's wedding portrait. It was a little faded from the sun, but they could still be easily distinguished. Lady Haven snorted at what she had been wearing that day. "I doubt I'll fit into that anymore. Besides, who thought wearing an A frame for a wedding was a good idea?"

She then spotted the date, and compared it to her watch. "Well, I suppose it was a nice Spring day, and..." Lady Haven then noticed the date again, and gasped. "Oh no! I've forgotten the wedding anniversary!"





After a thoroughly chaotic early afternoon, Lady Haven entered the dining room, looking down. "How could I have forgotten such an important day? Thirty years of marriage and I forget something as simple as this!"

Just then, she saw Misty setting the table alongside the wait staff. "Misty? What are you doing here?"

"Hey mom!" Misty replied. "I've been setting up the surprise!"

"What surprise?" Lady Haven asked.

Just then, the others arrived. Zipp looked worn out, Izzy was muttering about string, Pipp had a bit of dirt in her hair, and Hitch looked a mess. Even Sunny looked worse for wear.

"I take it being Duchess wasn't as easy as it looked?" Lady Haven said, with a wry smile.

"No," Zipp sighed. "We didn't even come close to finishing the list. Sorry if it seems we take you for granted."

Lady Haven laughed. "Not at all! I've never gotten that impression from either you or Pipp. And it doesn't matter that you didn't get everything done. You still have plenty of time to learn how to do things, and getting unruly children under control is good practice for the future."

Zipp looked awkward.

"That was a joke, dear. Anyway, what matters is you tried your best, and you cannot give more than that." She indicated to the table. "So, what's this all about?"

Pipp stepped forward. "We organised this for you and dad's wedding anniversary!"

Suddenly, Fifi arrived. "I've got the fireworks!"

"Set them up outside for after nightfall!" Hitch called.

"You acquired fireworks?" Lady Haven asked.

"The exact same make and types you had at your reception," Zipp said.

Lord Haven then arrived. "Good work, everybody!" he said. "Now then, let's set work aside for a moment and enjoy some time together as a family."

"And friends!" Pipp added.

As they took a seat and selected items, chat was exchanged and tea and coffee flowed. Although Lady Haven couldn't help but feel thirty years had flown past rather quickly, the life she had was one she enjoyed.

A life that had given her opportunities, a friend group, a loving husband, and two wonderful daughters. And there was no other way she would have it.
> The Great Ice Cream Robbery
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Falmouth had been hit by yet another heatwave, which was a bit alarming seeing as it was only March. The sun burned down furiously on the town and the region, and temperatures were already rising very quickly.

Many people had changed into cooler clothes, and there were worries the landscape was very dry. Seeing as the year earlier had seen lineside fires in the area, the local authorities were taking no chances.

Hitch was in the shed, climbing up a ladder. He had a strange thing that looked like a chicken coop in his hand. "Fitting this thing is going to be more complicated than I thought," he said.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked him.

"Remember how we had all the lineside fires last year?" Hitch said.

"Yes?"

"Well, the council are determined to prevent a repeat of that. They've issued a directive to us; either fit our steam engines with spark arrestors, or stop using them altogether until some rain comes."

"The tourists will be terribly disappointed," Rebecca said. "We must run!"

"Which means fitting these devices, as it's not worth running steam if half the countryside burns down." Hitch finally put the object into place. "There! Perfect."

Hitch climbed down from the ladder, but then he saw Zipp approaching. She was in a wetsuit and carrying a surfboard. "Hot day, huh?" she said.

"Tell me about it!" Hitch said. "It's projected to hit at least 25 today."

"Hot stuff," Zipp grinned. "Look, I just had a great time surfing down at the beach."

"I can tell," Hitch said. "Your hair is soggy."

"All part of the fun. But the beach was completely deserted, which was a bit weird."

"If they have any sense they're either having lots of cold drinks or staying in cool buildings," Hitch said. "That'd make the most sense."

Zipp sighed. "The cool air off the sea is keeping the beach cool. Wanna come down?"

"Sorry, but I'm too busy. I'm helping to move supplies for the ice cream festival." Hitch climbed in the cab and sounded the whistle. "Clear the way, please!"

Rebecca rumbled out of the shed as Zipp looked confused. Maybe going into town would do the trick.





Sure enough, Zipp headed into town and almost immediately found other people. Most of them were underneath canopies, and a lot were either eating ice cream or buying very cold drinks.

She walked over to the Pippsqueaks. "You know, ice cream always tastes better at the beach."

"Nope!" said Seashell. "Being out in the open sun is a bad idea in this weather."

"I'd get sunburn!" said Peach Fizz.

"And I'd get sunstroke!" added Glory. "We should stay in the shade."

Zipp sighed. "Well, it was worth a try." She then saw Posey leaning over a railing. "Hey, it's cool at the beach."

"My main concern is the sand," Posey said. "Not only do I sunburn easily, if a wind whipped up the dust it'd make a mess of my lungs." And she walked away.

Zipp looked around and saw an enormous queue had formed for Sunny's drinks stand. Sunny was processing drinks as fast as she could, with Misty taking orders and relaying them to her.

"We could really do with two machines!" Misty said.

"Tell me about it, but I don't think they'd want coffee in this weather!" Sunny replied.

"Why coffee?"

"Mom has a coffee machine. I don't think she'd approve of me borrowing it."

Zipp snuck around the side of the line and looked over. "Sunny?"

"If you want to order a drink you'll have to get in line," Sunny replied.

"Why not start selling them at the beach instead?" Zipp suggested.

"The beach is far too exposed," Sunny replied. "At least in the town itself you can take proper refuge from the sun. I need to keep my operation here so that people can stay hydrated." She slipped a drink to somebody. "One pearnana, as requested!"

Suddenly, commotion came from Mane Melody. Pipp was chasing Izzy down the street. "Izzy, give me my fans back!"

"We need these fans to keep people outside cool!" Izzy replied.

"That's the wrong type of fan!" Pipp pointed out. "You want outdoor fans for that sort of work. Indoor desk fans are about as much use as a chocolate teapot!"

"I like chocolate teapots!" Izzy protested.

Zipp walked over. "Why are you even trying to be indoors in the first place? Why not be outdoors?"

"Sorry, but I can think of better things to do than get sunstroke," Pipp replied. "Now then, I suggest that instead of complaining about where people choose to spend their day, you help with getting ice cream to the ice cream festival!"

"The ice cream festival?" Zipp asked.

"Yes," Pipp replied. "Major event held in Penmere each year. Trust me, it'd do you some good instead of whining. And you call me a drama queen."

Zipp sighed. "Alright. I'll go get Charles." She then headed home to get washed and changed.





Zipp's journey was shorter than she anticipated. As Charles pulled into the platform at Penmere, he saw Rebecca and her train in the loop. Police were swarming round the train and taking photographs.

"Rather more serious than a blown safety valve, eh?" Charles joked.

"It's not a joke, Charles!" Rebecca replied. "A serious crime happened!"

"Really?" Zipp asked.

Hitch leaned out. "Rebecca was running low on water, so I took her to the water pipe to collect some. But when we came back the vans had been broken into, and all the ice cream had been stolen! But not only that, they took the Ice Cream King!"

"The who?" Charles asked.

"No, not The Who!" Rebecca said.

"The Ice Cream King," Hitch explained, "is a local who is elected every year to open the Ice Cream Festival. Without him or the ice cream, the Ice Cream Festival cannot open!"

Zipp thought to herself. "Then how about we go and find the Ice Cream King?"

"Here we go again," Rebecca said, as Hitch got out to uncouple her.

Hitch then spotted something. "Wait, look! There's a trail of ice cream on the lineside! Let's follow it!"

Zipp hopped out of the cab and powered up her drone. "Detective Zipp is on the case!"





Bellerophon steamed to a stop at the ice cream factory just outside Redruth. "We're here!" he said, thoroughly out of breath.

Misty hopped off the footplate and into the building. "We need more ice cream urgently!" she said. "We've run out in Falmouth, and many people are overheating!"

The factory manager sighed. "Unfortunately we've been swamped with orders, and we've run out of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate. The shipment is running late, so we need your help to find it."

Misty nodded, and headed back to Bellerophon. "Come on! We need to find some vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate for the ice cream factory!"

Bellerophon sighed. "When did this turn into a fetch quest?"





Zipp and Hitch made their way cross country, with the police following shortly behind them. "This is good fun!" Zipp said. "Reminds me of when me and Pipp used to solve mysteries together- before we realised mom planted all the evidence."

"Hey, it's the thought that counts," Hitch replied. But the trail of ice cream soon began to run slower, and they hid behind a bush to reveal a group of men. They were sitting around a group of boxes all marked with flavours of ice cream. And with them was the Ice Cream King!

"I refuse to go with you!" he said. "This is absurd!"

"If you don't come with us," said one of the men, "I will make you eat coffee ice cream."

Zipp looked at Hitch. "Coffee ice cream? Pipp'd flip if given that!"

The Ice Cream King looked horrified. "No! Anything but that!"

"Luckily, you won't have to," said a voice. "You're under arrest."

"Quick, scram!" shouted the second man, and they all headed for the hills as fast as their legs could carry them.

"We'll take chase!" shouted a police sargeant. "You get the ice cream!"

"Yes sir!" said another group, and they split up. Zipp and Hitch looked at the ice cream.





By some strange coincidence, a cream tanker was sitting in a nearby siding. Bellerophon had had to wait until an express had passed, but once it was through he coupled up and was back on his way.

Next, he collected a refridgerated van and stopped at a farm siding to collect some strawberry. Thankfully, the farmer had some and was happy to give them to them.

Now all they had to do was find some chocolate. And in this heat that was easier said than done.





Zipp smiled. "Huh. Still mostly frozen."

"It's got internal ice packaging," said the Ice Cream King. "But what would a group of criminals want with ice cream?"

"It's in short supply right now," Hitch said. "Now then, Mr Ice Cream King-"

"Edmund. But how in the world am I going to get all this ice cream back to Penmere? It's such a long way by foot!"

"Now then, Edmund, we're here to take you back to Penmere in safety. We'll help you get the ice cream there, and then you can open the festival!"

"If you could cut these ropes that would be a good start," Edmund replied.

So they did, and with the help of the local police detachment they began to carry the ice cream across the terrain and back to where Rebecca was.





Bellerophon was held in yet another loop whilst he waited for a cement train to pass. It was going extremely slowly, with a heavy load of cement tankers rattling behind the single locomotive, which was producing an awful racket.

The diesel said something, but Bellerophon was unable to understand a word of what she was saying. He was just glad when the signal turned green and he could go. He powered up the line and stopped at the chocolate factory just outside Camborne, where luckily more refridgerated trucks loaded with chocolate were ready to go.

Bellerophon quickly shunted them into the train, or rather he tried to. They were stuck fast. "They won't move!" he said.

Misty shut off steam and climbed down to take a look. She then moved some levers. "Handbrakes were on," she replied.

"Of course they were," Bellerophon said. "Everything is working against us today."

"Look on the bright side," Misty smiled. "At least the wagons didn't explode for no readily obvious reason."

But they could finally get on their way, and it was back off to the ice cream factory to complete the quest.





Lady Haven checked her watch. "We're running a little behind time," she said. "Edmund should have been here by now."

"I'm here, your ladyship!" called a voice, and Edmund then appeared. Zipp and Hitch then followed shortly after carrying boxes of ice cream, followed by several burly policemen carrying more ice cream.

Lady Haven did an appromixation of a curtsy, partly as she wasn't wearing a skirt. "Your Majesty," she said jokingly.

"There's no need for such formality, your ladyship," Edmund replied. "I am proud to declare the Ice Cream Festival open!"

Just then, one of the policemen's radios buzzed. "Yes?" he said. "Oh. Excellent. I'll tell the lads." He looked over. "They caught the robbers! Not only that, they caught them red handed."

"Excellent!" Hitch said.

"They had strawberry on their hands."





Misty and Bellerophon rattled into Penmere station with the ice cream, which was hastily unloaded and carried to the town. She then joined her friends at the festival. "Any news?" she said.

"Looks as though the ice cream thieves will be getting a good sentence," Hitch said. "Stealing ice cream usually carries a sentence of 60 hours of community service. Hopefully they'll be sentenced to making ice cream."

Zipp also had something to say. "Guys, sorry for being mad earlier," she said. "There are many ways to have fun on a hot day. Just not everybody wants to spend it out in the heat!"
> Fight for your Life
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hitch staggered to his feet and lumbered forward. "Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that!"

His assailant swung at him, the fist barely connecting with his own face.

"Huh. Guess you're a little sloppy, huh?" Hitch lunged, but the attacker swung back and knocked him off balance. They then grabbed a hammer and turned their attention to the cab controls.

Hitch grabbed them seconds before the hammer impacted the cutoff handle. "You crazy fool! If we lose the cab controls we'll never stop!"

"Precisely," said the voice. "This train shall never stop!"

Hitch had to wonder sometimes how in the world he kept ending up in these situations.





The day had started like most other days in his life. Get up, eat breakfast, get dressed, head out, get Rebecca ready to go. All the usual things. This morning was a little different, though. His working wasn't passengers to start his day. Instead, it was a mail train.

As he backed Rebecca onto the train, he saw mail being loaded onto the train, and several of his friends boarding. "Hey guys. What's going on?"

"We'll be doing mail sorting," Zipp said. "Unfortunately, Misty's sick again so she can't work her booked turn, but Pipp agreed to fill in."

"Misty seems to be sick a lot," Hitch said.

"Well, it turns out that she lacks quite a few of the vaccinations we take for granted, so she's getting all of those," Pipp answered. "Getting her caught up on those will take quite a long time."

"But anyway, it's the three of us keeping an eye on the shipment," Sunny said. "Should be a simple job."

More carts of mail were being wheeled onboard the train, and it wouldn't be long until the train was ready to go. The mail was still being wheeled onboard. "This is more mail than usual," Rebecca noted.

"We'll be working all the way to Penzance today," Hitch said. "That means we'll have to use the turntable at Truro."

"There's a turntable now?" Rebecca asked.

"Yes, there is," Hitch replied. "Newly installed too. Should be fun to give it a go, as well."

At last, preparations were completed for the run. It was warm, and the sun was in the sky as the train sat there in the Spring day. The last door banged, the guard showed a green flag- the Ocean Mail was ready to go!

With a blast of the whistle, Rebecca's wheels dug into the rails, and the heavy train began to move out of the platform- the mail coaches shuddered and groaned as they rumbled along, clearing the station approaches quickly and soon beginning the climb out of the Fal Valley. They flew by almost as if they were flying, and the sheer speed they were covering (around 40 miles an hour), meant that the journey they were taking took them approximately 15 minutes. Things went smoothly on the first portion, and it seemed as though all was good. What a United States Navy aviator would have termed a milk run, so to speak.

Upon arrival in Truro, Hitch took Rebecca off to be turned on the turntable. Before this point, Rebecca had always been operated tender first on the return to Falmouth, but running tender first over these sorts of distances wasn't practical. Instead, Rebecca was turned on the new turntable, and soon reattached to her train.

They were only a few minutes down when they got underway again, and Hitch was confident that they could make up the lost time easily. As they flew down the Cornish hills and up the valleys, he suddenly got a call on the radio.

"-itch! Don't slow down!"

"What appears to be the problem, over?"

"I'm the problem."

Hitch had barely any time to react before he took a shovel to the face.





Zipp lunged at one of them, but they jumped out of the way and charged back.

"Take this!" they shouted, and wheeled a large mail cart her way.

Zipp rolled out of the way of the large mail cart before somebody else jumped her and tried to pin her down. "A little help here!"

Pipp slammed Zipp's attacker over the head with a sorting tool. "LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!"

Another one then charged them, which caught Pipp off guard. Suddenly, there was a bump, and everything was briefly airborne- including those onboard. Zipp took advantage of the temporary shift in gravity to kick Pipp's assailant away.

She tried to reach for her radio, but barely had time to react as everything slammed back down onto the ground. "Of course!" she said, and spoke again. "Hitch, drive as fast as you can! There are hijackers on the train!"





Hitch heard the message, but barely had any opportunity to do much about it. His attacker was now in full view.

"Fancy seeing you again, Sprout," Hitch said, getting to his feet after the blow.

"I see your eyes still work," Sprout replied. If it was somehow possible, he looked even more crazed than the last time Hitch had seen him. "And now it's time to get my revenge."

Hitch was back in action, and knocked Sprout back, aiming to incapacitate him with his attacks. But Sprout blocked them.

"I did the same training as you, remember?" he said. "I know all your tricks!"

He then launched another attack, but Hitch was only briefly knocked down. Hitch staggered to his feet and lumbered forward. "Nice try, but you'll have to do better than that!"

His assailant swung at him, the fist barely connecting with his own face.

"Huh. Guess you're a little sloppy, huh?" Hitch lunged, but the attacker swung back and knocked him off balance. They then grabbed a hammer and turned their attention to the cab controls.

Hitch grabbed them seconds before the hammer impacted the cutoff handle. "You crazy fool! If we lose the cab controls we'll never stop!"

"Precisely," said the voice. "This train shall never stop!"





Back in the mail coaches, the girls had teamed up against their attacker. Zipp and Pipp jumped on one hijacker to pin him down whilst Sunny had positioned herself behind a mail cart and shoved it forward into one of the assailants.

He jumped out of the way, and lunged forward.

Sunny rolled as best she could, but staying on the move in a moving train with a shaking floor was proving to be harder than she thought. "Where's a pony up when you need it?"

Once she was back on the ground, she slammed into her attacker and crashed him into the wall. She then pulled back and tried to find a physical object to protect herself with.

"Sunny! A little help here!"

Sunny dashed over to help Pipp, who was helping Zipp hold another down. Their combined body weight was helping to pin the attacker down, but it wasn't going to last forever.

And it didn't. The attacker pushed Pipp off him and punched Zipp in the face. Zipp quickly recoiled by slamming his head into the ground. "SUNNY! BEHIND YOU!"

Sunny wheeled around quickly and slammed the blunt force object into her attacker, sending him flying across the room as they flew over another bump again.





Hitch knew the ordeal was nearly over when he saw a police helicopter flying nearby. "The cops took their sweet time!"

Sprout looked back, and realised he was done for. "You'll never take me alive, copper!" he shouted, and suddenly he jumped from the train and down into the embankment below.

Hitch's cab was finally free of distraction, but he suddenly realised they were flying past the speed board for Long Rock depot. Which was only just outside Penzance. Which meant he was going far too fast!

He slammed the regulator shut and applied maximum brake force. The brake blocks screamed and screeched as the train slowed down, biting into the rails and the wheels. But would the friction be enough?

Sparks flew from the wheels as they slowed down into the station, doing forty miles an hour as they passed the station ramp. "This isn't going to end well!" Rebecca said, and shut her eyes.

But luckily, it did. There was no ear splitting crash, and when she opened her eyes there was about an inch between her buffers and the bufferstops.

Hitch got out and ran back down the train as emergency crews swarmed the platform. He pulled open the main sorting door to find his friends all piled on top of one person.

"What happened here?" he asked.

"Got a pair of handcuffs?" Zipp asked.

"No. Why?"

Zipp rolled her eyes. "Get some, because this guy's still dangerous."

"Get off! You're hurting me!"

Zipp looked at Sunny. "Permission to knock him out?"

"Permission granted."





Only later would the nature of the plan be learned. After the attackers were interrogated, it seemed they intended to crash the train at Penzance and get it blamed on the crew, thereby curtailing the regional rail program.

Although nobody learned what became of Sprout or even quite how he'd gotten onboard the train in the first place, his little attempt at revenge against those he'd once worked alongside had failed miserably.

As it turns out, those fighting for survival are not easy opponents.
> Nigel and the Haunted Mine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At this time of the year, as the weather begins to warm and the days gradually get longer, it becomes very popular for stations to tend to their flowerbeds and start to plant new flowers to replace the older ones, many of which may not survive the winter season. As such, flower deliveries often pick up at this time of year, and the engines of the railway is all too eager to help deliver the goods to where it needs to go.

This is also combined with a competition for best kept station. As we all know, stations kept in good order are able to set a good impression for the visitors, and as a result the staff often go a little crazy ensuring their station is the brightest and the best on the line. The steam era trimmings only add to the unique character of the Maritime Line, which makes it one of the most distinctive parts of the country in that regard.

Sometimes these deliveries of flowers are conducted at night, to avoid disrupting the flow of day traffic, and they often use very strange combinations of motive power. One such night, the engine detailed for this duty was Nigel. Nigel, as you know, is a diesel shunter, and as such working freight over a longer distance was most unusual for him.

"This section of the line looks very odd at night," he said, glancing about. "My headlights barely cut through the gloom. And the fog isn't helping."

"Hopefully some poetry will keep us both warm," Onyx said. "Shiver, shiver away cold of the night, and the places where the ghosts go, and the beatnik lives, and the vibrancy of life burns, burns with the energy of the sun."

"Have you been reading Keroac again?" Nigel asked.

"No. I prefer Ginsberg," Onyx replied.

As they approached Perranwell, the signal was red, and they had to stop in the platform.

"It must be the mail," Onyx said.

"We have no choice but to wait," Nigel said dryly. "I knew this would be a fun day."

So they waited and they waited, and the minutes seemed to drag on by. Suddenly, their attention was drawn to a building up on a hilltop. A long time ago, the area had been home to an old tin mine, but this had closed a long time ago. Although Pipp and Zipp had mistakenly wandered into it whilst searching for a flower about a year ago, the entrances had largely been sealed, and the mine was abandoned.

The building consisted of an old engine house and a chimney. The building had once housed a stationary steam engine that had powered the water pumps, but the engine was long since removed. Suddenly, to their surprise the ground there started to shake, and the chimney sank into the ground!

"What was that?" Nigel asked.

Onyx looked up. "Maybe it's the troggles!"

"The what?" Nigel asked.

"The Troggles! Izzy mentioned them, and they cause mischief!"

Just then, the mail steamed through, and they set off as soon as the signal changed.





The next afternoon, Nigel was discussing what he had seen with Sophie and Charles. Charles was not sympathetic. "Troggles, eh?" he said. "Rubbish. Troggles turned out to be drones."

"Besides," Zipp said, "this sounds more like gnomes."

"Gnomes?" Nigel asked.

"Yes," Zipp replied. "gnomes. They cause all sorts of mischief when people aren't looking. Such as moving objects."

"And knocking down chimneys?" Onyx asked.

"Technically, the chimney sank into the ground, so it was being moved."

Pipp chimed in. "I thought that was goblins."

"Goblins steal your socks, but only the left ones," Zipp explained. "I have no idea why."

"Come on, let's get back to work," Sophie said. "There'll be plenty of time for chatting later."

Nigel could only hope nothing else strange would happen.





Unfortunately, he was unlucky. An incorrect work order had resulted in some trucks being dropped off at the wrong location, and Nigel had to go pick them up from Perranwell yard. And, like yesterday, the run was done at night to avoid interfering with the other trains scheduled for the day.

Nigel arrived at the station after an uneventful run down from Truro, and waited in the platform for the signalman to released the shunt lights to let him move forward. As the yard had limited space, Nigel soon found it was a case of shuffling trucks backwards and forwards out of the siding and back into the platform, which meant the shunt took close to an hour to complete. But, at last, he had his train assembled and was ready to head back to Truro.

That was when he saw it. His eyes were once again drawn up onto the hill where the old building stood, and in an instant the ground started to shake again. The old engine house suddenly sank into the ground, vanishing into the depths of the Earth itself.

"What on Earth?" Onyx asked. "How did that happen?"

Before any of them could react, a door on one of the vans burst open, and several gnomes fell out.

"Gnomes!" Nigel said. "Looks like Zipp was right!"

Without a moment of hesitation, the diesel pulled away without waiting for any of the station staff to respond.

"Wait!" shouted a porter. "You've left them behind!"





Upon arrival at Truro, Onyx explained to the station master what had happened. Unlike Onyx, he found the entire thing rather funny.

"This all has a rational explanation," he said. "The engine house and chimney collapsed into empty mineshafts. And the gnomes were being delivered to Truro for the garden display, but ended up at Perranwell by mistake. And you'll have to go back and get them."

"Talk about coals to Newcastle," Nigel said. But he went anyway, and sure enough they loaded the gnomes into a van and brought them back to Truro.

Truro ultimately won the best station competition, and the station master was sure to thank Nigel for his help. It turns out gnomes can be lucky after all... even if one of Pipp's socks went missing later that day!
> Sophie and the Slip Coaches
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Holiday season had arrived in the region, with people heading to other parts of the country for a seasonal break. This, naturally, was putting a bit of strain on transportation resources, and the railway was busier than it often was.

This was, naturally, causing all sorts of operational situations down at the bottom end of the line. No sooner had a train arrived and its coaches taken away for servicing then another set was being propelled into the platform for use. It was all very busy, and understandably it was rushing the engines off their wheels.

"Well, shiver me cylinders!" Salty said, as he reached the carriage sidings with yet another rake of coaches. "This has to be one of the busiest seasons yet!"

"Right, what's the next set of coaches we need?" Sunny mused, as she checked the shunt manifest. "Here we are! The stock on the next siding- the ones in white and purple."

"Ahem- plum and spilt milk," Rebecca said, as she waited at the shunt signal for clearance to back down.

"What?" Salty asked.

"Plum and spilt milk," Rebecca replied. "It was a livery tried by the Southern Region when British Railways was trying to decide on a standardised coach livery. Although they eventually went with carmine and cream, the experimental liveries remained on some coaches into the late 1950s."

Sunny nodded. "I did not now that. Thank you for that piece of trivia."

Once these coaches were in the platform, Rebecca backed down onto the train, and the passengers boarded. With a whistle and the wave of a green flag, she was on her way.

Salty, on the other hand, had dropped back to the refuelling point. "This level of traffic is probably more than we were built to cope with," he said. "A sleepy branchline like this simply cannot cope with this level of traffic!"

"Tell me about it," Porter said, as his tanks were topped up. "If only there was some sort of way to speed things up, then we could make our operations more efficient."

"That's quite enough chit chat!" shouted the yard foreman. "Back to work, Porter!"

"See what I mean?" Porter said, as the water crane was swung out of position. With a blast of steam from his cylinder cocks he moved off to the sidings to continue working.

Salty sighed. "This isn't a viable solution, at all. If only there was some sort of mechanism for dropping passengers off without having to stop..."





That night, the engines were once again in their shed. The shutters were down, which protected them from the elements, but at the same time things were still somewhat uneasy as they conversed with one another.

"This level of traffic is simply getting preposterous," Charles grumbled. "We had so many people getting on and off we were unable to leave on time!"

"Well, this level of traffic does do a lot of good for local businesses," Sophie reminded him.

"I know that," Charles said, "but remember that passengers complain when the trains run late. They can't have their cake and eat it, as we can't increase train lengths as they won't fit in the platforms, causing even more operational headaches!"

"True that," Rebecca said. "If only there was some sort of mechanism for dropping passengers off without having to stop..."

Sophie piped up. "What did you say?"

"I said, If only there was some sort of mechanism for dropping passengers off without having to stop," Rebecca replied. "Why? Do you know of a method?"

"Yes!" Sophie said. "Use slip coaches!"

"What's a slip coach?" Porter asked.

Sophie smiled. "I heard about them from a Great Western engine when I visited the South Devon Railway for a gala. Basically, a slip coach can be uncoupled whilst on the move, as it has its own braking system to bring the coach to a stop. In other words, you maintain speed and eliminate the need to stop!"

"Now I know what you're talking about!" Porter said. "The Lancashire and Yorkshire had some, which passed to the LMS. They mainly used them at Rochdale and Blackburn- one of my early jobs was getting them out of the way of oncoming trains after the passengers got off."

Charles was oddly silent. A fiendish idea was forming in his mind.





The next morning, after the yard staff had arrived, Charles told them all about slip coaches (whilst neglecting to mention that Sophie had been the one to tell him the story in the first place). The staff were quite impressed, and by lunchtime a set had been delivered.

"Where did these come from?" Rebecca asked, as she arrived from another passenger working to get some coal. "I don't recall these being in the fleet."

"We picked them up from a heritage line," explained a worker. "Neat coaches, aren't they?"

"And," Charles said, "will speed up operations no end. Which is always a good thing."

Sure enough, the shunters got to work with the trial service. A single slip coaches was attached to the back of the train, with a large sign on it telling passengers it was for Penrhyn only, and that passengers would need to pay close attention to the signs on the platform. Sure enough, they hopped onboard, and a special railway worker, called a brake man, got onboard to operate the brake controls and slip gear.

Charles was the one to work this train, and smiled. "Brilliant idea, this was," he said. "Now we can all get everything done faster."

Zipp glanced behind her for the guard's whistle. "I wasn't aware you were familiar with Great Western operational practice," she said. "I know the consitutent companies of the Southern used them, but they'd abandoned slip working by 1924."

Just then, the guard sounded his whistle and waved his green flag, and what was possibly the wackiest train ever seen on the line got underway. After the stop at Penmere, they got underway again, and rumbled down the hill and back up into the climb towards Penrhyn. "We should probably release the coach around the top of the viaduct," Charles said.

"That would give it enough momentum to stop in the platform," Zipp added. "Brilliant thinking!"

"I am a certified genius, after all," Charles said.

Charles blasted a special horn sequence to inform the brake man to release the rear coach. He pulled on a lever and began to apply the brakes.

But, just then, Charles saw the signal was red! "BRAKES!" he shouted.

Zipp brought the train to a stop in the platform before the signal- before there was a sudden bang from the back of the train. "Oh no."

Zipp hopped out of the cab and walked back to see what had happened, and saw the brake man getting out of the brake compartment. "Everything OK?"

"No, it is not!" the brake man snapped. "You're supposed to keep going with these slip coaches! Otherwise we just bump into the back of the train we detached from!"

"In fairness, the signal is red," Zipp said. "Perhaps slip operation doesn't work on single track railways."

Just then, Sophie arrived with a passenger train and saw the confusion. "Having fun?" she asked.

"A slip coach slammed into the back of my train!" Charles complained.

"That's because they're meant to be detached from fast moving trains, not stopping services," Sophie replied.

"Otherwise," Pipp added, "what's the point of uncoupling them in the first place?"

Charles glanced about. "It seems this idea has a few flaws in it."





After the test, it was decided that slip coaches were of limited utility to the Maritime Line, as train speeds simply were not high enough to justify their usage. However, the extra seats were certainly appreciated by the railway and the passengers, and as such the slip coaches were used as normal passenger coaches. However, the lack of corridors did generate complaints about being unable to access the buffet coach.

Eventually, it was decided it was more efficient to just operate longer trains and have shorter stop times- after all, detaching coaches in motion sounds impressive at first, but is fraught with all sorts of problems!
> The Phantom Express
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was night time at Falmouth, and unusually the shed was awake with activity. Engines were being readied for duty, and Rebecca had been left in steam from her duties that morning.

Hitch finished oiling round in readiness for departure. "Good stuff, this new oil!" he said. "Helps to keep the wheels and equipment lubricated."

"Always a useful thing," Charles said. "Wouldn't want Rebecca breaking down more than she usually does, would we?" And he laughed as though it was the funniest joke in the world. Which it wasn't.

"Really, Charles?" Sophie said.

"She is pretty unreliable. I mean, we had blown safety valves and a leaking oil bath and wonky injectors and wheelslip and oil bath fires and-"

"Alright, alright, don't pile it on," Rebecca said.

"But what I want to know is why you're running at night," Salty asked. "The landscape is very different at night."

"Well," Hitch explained, "the railway has had a bright idea. Instead of running during the day and interfering with passenger traffic, what if we deliver mail at night?"

"We used to do that back in the day," Charles mentioned. "Parcels moved at night so that people get their things in the morning. That was when most people were still in bed, dreaming of terrifying monsters or of being at the sea at Weymouth or Paignton."

"I thought it was Cranston's or Crawford's," Sophie said.

"The poem is very Scotland centric," Charles grumbled. "I know Midland engines talk endlessly about Beattock, but I'd like to see one of them tackle Honiton with a banker."

"Isn't that when the Phantom Express runs?" Bellerophon asked.

"When is when the Phantom Express runs?" Rebecca asked.

"Has Salty been telling tales again?" Porter asked.

"I don't know of a Phantom Express," Salty said. "But I can tell you the Flatbeds of Fear-"



"We did that joke back in October!" Sophie said. "And it stopped being funny after one or two times."

"-are nowhere near here," Salty finished. "So, please do tell us about the Phantom Express."

So Bellerophon began. "The Phantom Express is rumoured to run at night, when no other trains run. He runs up and down the line, blowing his whistle in a ghostly way. If you're not careful, he might find you!"

Rebecca sighed. "I'll keep an eye out." Hitch was now on the footplate, and with a blast of steam she pulled away.





Rebecca was soon hooked up to the mail train. Hitch had powered up the generator whilst they were waiting, and switched on the front lights. Before long the line was illuminated with bright electric light.

"We'll see any ghosts for sure with this lot," Hitch said. "This is like driving a rock concert."

"You didn't believe that story, did you?" Rebecca asked. "It sounded like a lot of old nonsense!"

"Considering the other things we've seen since magic returned I'm surprised you draw the line at ghosts," Hitch said, as he looked down the line towards the signal. At last it dropped, and they could set off.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn't going to make their run easy. A fog had fallen into the valley owing to the weather, and this was making it hard to see. When they arrived at their first stop, Hitch looked back to see the station staff unloading the mail in big trolleys, before wheeling other trolleys loaded with different mail onboard.

"Looking good so far," he said, before looking forward. "Now we just wait for the guard's whis-"

Suddenly, a strange noise came down the line up ahead.

"What was that?" Rebecca asked.

"I don't know," said Hitch. "Be ready for anything."

Moments later, the sound approached them, and a familiar green tank engine rolled into the loop with some trucks.

"What a relief!" Rebecca said. "It's only Brookes!"

"Hello!" Brookes replied. "How's it going?"

"Pretty well. But I thought you were the Phantom Express!"

Argyle looked up the train. "Has Salty been pulling your wheels again?"

"Bellerophon told the story, actually," Hitch replied.

"Well, I saw nothing ghostly on the way here," Brookes continued. "Good luck!"

The signal had changed in the meantime, and they were on their way once more. The line was soon starting to change in character, with the fog becoming thicker the higher they got. It was a tough old run to Penrhyn, where they pulled into the platform. To their surprise, Harvey was there.

"Hello Harvey!" said Rebecca. "What are you doing here?"

"The station forklift broke down, so I'm loading some boxes into trucks," Harvey said. "Goldie says it's just like the old days."

"The cranes I operated on the dockside weren't moving about, though," Goldie said.

"You worked on a dockside? When?" Rebecca asked.

"When I was in college. Although I was on a scholarship I still took work to make some money on the side."

"I thought your parents were loaded," Hitch said.

"Yes, but I was always taught that the path to success is hard work. So far it seems to have paid off." Goldie looked forward. "Foggy, isn't it?"

"Have you seen the Phantom Express?" Rebecca asked.

"No, and I hope I don't," Goldie replied. "I've had enough encounters with killer ghosts to last me a dozen lifetimes. I wouldn't be skeptical about ghosts if I were you, Rebecca. We've seen enough weirdness in this place as it is."

Just then, a ghostly whistling sound echoed over the station. "What was that?" asked Harvey.

"Was it the Phantom Express?" asked Hitch.

"Possibly," Rebecca said. "Fancy sticking together, Harvey?"

"We have to finish here first, but we'll follow you up the line later. Got another job at Perranwell."

Goldie wiped her brow. "Good thing it's the weekend tomorrow. I wouldn't want to be doing this on a work day."





As Rebecca and Hitch got on their way up the line, the strange whistling seemed to be coming from behind them. "What if it's following us?" Rebecca asked.

"Let's speed up and see if the sound changes," Hitch said, and opened the regulator a bit more. Unfortunately, in the darkness he began to lose track of where he was. And- too late- he suddenly saw Perranwell looming out of the gloom. "Wait, what the?"

"We need to stop!" Rebecca called. Hitch slammed on the brakes, the brake blocks screeching as they struggled to slow the train down. They gradually got slower and slower, but at long last they stopped- with the last coach barely in the platform.

"You made a bit of a mess of that one!" said a station porter.

Hitch put Rebecca into reverse and backed the train into the platform. "Sorry. I lost track of where I was. This place looks so different in the dark."

"You tell me," said another porter. "This fog is very annoying. I nearly fell off the platform earlier on. Good thing the platform edges are painted white!"





At the same time, Harvey was making his way up the line to Perranwell. The area did look very spooky. "I hope Rebecca made it OK without difficulty," he said.

"Me too," Goldie replied. "And hopefully Sunny's been sensible and got an early night. The docks will probably be quite busy tomorrow, and not only that there's tryouts for the UK Roller Derby as well to go to."

Suddenly, the two of them heard a ghostly noise. "It's the same noise from earlier!" said Harvey.

Goldie looked behind her. "Ghost, if you can here me, kindly go away and haunt somebody else!"

Only for the strange sound to be heard once again. Now they were both surprised. "This is getting weird," Harvey said.

Luckily, they were in Perranwell before long, and saw the train being loaded on the line next to them. Not long after they got there, Rebecca left with the mail, meaning that they were alone.

And as they got to work the sound sounded again. "I think it's definitely following us," Harvey said.

And the sound slowly drew closer, combined with some puffing as well. They all looked back down the line. Could the story be true? Could this be... the Phantom Express?

And then a voice spoke. "Hello there Harvey!"

Harvey sighed. "Brookes. I might have known."

Just then, Brookes rolled into the other platform and stopped. "It's a dark one, isn't it?"

"It was your whistle, wasn't it?" Goldie asked.

Argyle reached up and pulled the whistle chain. "This sound?" He looked puzzled. "Looks like the steam pressure is slightly wrong. But I can fix that."

"There never was a ghost, was there?" Harvey asked.

"Not that I know of," Brookes replied. "Perhaps the weather was making the sound of my whistle distorted."

"Always possible," Argyle said. "I checked in on Sunny whilst I was down in Falmouth. She'd taken an early night to ensure she was in good shape for the tryouts tomorrow."

Once they work was over, everybody went to rest. After all, it was quite the relief that ghosts weren't following them around... for once!
> The Great Falmouth Stink-Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pipp Petals walked with a spring in her step through the forest near the line. Ever since the replanting operation had helped regenerate the region with fast growing trees, new wildlife had moved in to help populate the landscape. This helped make Pipp happy, as something she felt was importance was striking an important balance between nature and technology.

This wasn't where she was heading, though. She was heading back to the old growth where she and Izzy had found that strange plant, with all the bizarre properties she'd mixed into a perfume. Understandably, she wanted to see if any other unusual things were out there that could boost her product line and allow her to expand her perfume empire.

As she walked along, a basket under her arm, she sang to herself.

"There's music in the treetops/
And there's music in the vale!
And all around the music fills the sky!
There's music by the river/
And there's music in the grass/
And the music makes your heart soar in reply!"

Pipp then realised she didn't have any lyrics figured out for the next section, so she simply vocalised some notes. "Hmm, maybe I could develop that into a new single. I always was interested in trying a more folky sound."

No sooner had she said that then she tripped over something and landed flat on her face. In some dirt.

"Ow!" she said, as she pushed herself back up. "Oh no. My shirt's stained. How am I going to get the dirt out of this without a dry clean?" She rolled back and rubbed her knee. "Oww. That really hurt. Watch where you're going, plant!"

She moved her arm to check if she had any other injuries, as her left arm had run through the plant when she landed. As she looked, she stopped. Somehow her skin had a sort of shine to it.

"Wait," she said, looking at the plant. "That stuff improved my skin! Not that I have wrinkles, but good skincare routines are a must. And I think this could work for a new line of skincream!"

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a distinct aroma. "OK, so maybe it is a bit pungent," she said. "But most skincare products emit their own smell. Let's take this to Miss Figgy and see if she can take a cutting."





Later, Pipp had a test sample ready to go, and placed it on a table in Mane Melody. "Hey Jazz!" she said. "I've got a new product!"

Jazz walked over from rearranging some hairspray cans. "Exciting! What's in it?"

"It's a skincare cream that can make anything look fantastic!" Pipp replied. "Fancy trying some?"

Jazz leaned in- and almost immediately recoiled at the smell. "Whoa! That stuff smells... nice," she said, desperately trying to save face in front of her friend.

"And now that Miss Figgy has enabled us to make cuttings of the original plant, we're ready for mass production!" Pipp smiled. "Isn't this amazing?"

"Sure is," Jazz replied. "I mean, we could do with a new product after the last fiasco with the acidic hair conditioner or the ice cream face mask."

"Yeah, that didn't end well," Pipp conceded. "But, when people see how good this makes their skin look I don't think they'll be able to resist!"

Provided they can resist the smell, Jazz thought to herself.

Rocky then walked in. "Hello!" he said. "Just signing on. Anything happen-" he covered his mouth. "What is that stench?"

Jazz shook her head at him.

"Huh? Oh, I, err, just remembered I need to grab some stuff for my mom. See ya!" Rocky then darted out of the door as quickly as he had come.

"Well, that was weird," Pipp said. Moments later, Zipp entered. "Hey Zipp! Fancy a skin treatment?"

"No thanks, I've already put sunblock on," Zipp replied.

"It's not sunblock," Pipp said. "It's a new skincare treatment I've developed. It's based on a plant I found in the forest!" Pipp then waved it in Zipp's face.

Zipp recoiled in shock and tried her hardest not to barf. "Err, well, that's distinctive! I just remembered I need to change the batteries in my drone! See ya!" And she ran out of the door as fast as she could and stopped at the waterfront.

She gagged. "That has to be the smelliest thing I have smelled in my entire life. It stinks!" She then sped off in the direction of home as fast as she could.

Sunny then entered Mane Melody. "Hello Pipp! I've got your smoothie made up for you!"

Pipp grinned as she walked over. "Thanks Sunny! Fancy a skincare treatment? It's an all new one, and once it's one your skin will shine like never before!"

Sunny thought to herself. Is this what it means when somebody describes somebody else as glowing? "Oh, sure. Fire away!"

Pipp produced a bottle, and tipped some liquid out of it. "Here we are! All new skincare products, destined to change the market!"

She quickly rubbed some onto Sunny's arm, and Sunny almost immediately noticed the difference. "Yeah, it actually does look pretty go-" The second the aroma hit her nose, she clamped her mouth shut and tried not to eject her breakfast out of her nostrils.

"Now, I know it's a little smelly, but just imagine how good it'll feel when done!" Pipp said.

Sunny nodded. "Good luck with the launch. Now if you'll excuse me I was helping dad sort his records." She suddenly left to get some air. "Perhaps open a window? It's forecast to be very hot today."

Jazz nodded. "Great idea!" she said, as she opened a window to let the smell out.

Sunny then passed by the shed on her way to the Lighthouse.

"Whatever is that smell?" Salty asked.

"Can you smell a smell?" Rebecca asked.

"I can't smell a smell," Charles replied. "It must be yours."

"Whatever Sunny has done, it has made her rather pongy," Salty said. "Like fish."





"I don't like fish," Porter complained, as he pushed some vans into position. "Why do people always like smelly food?"

"It only smells when not refridgerated," Izzy said. "Besides, some makes of fish are quite nice. A bit of cod is nice every now and then, though I grew up mostly eating haddock as I lived in the north."

"Did it hiccup and was it horrendous?" Porter asked.

"Not that I can recall," Izzy said. "There were also more than three of them."

"At least it's the only stinky thing in the area," Porter said. "I could hardly handle two smelly things." He had to wait, though, as the vans were loaded with the fresh catch. And that meant putting up with it for just a bit longer.





Zipp fired up her laptop and began to check some information. "No further leads on Opaline as of yet, apart from this tunnels under the ground thing Elderflower mentioned." She googled that. "Hollow Earth theory... no, not what I was looking for. Caves... no, not it. What about artificial tunnels"? She googled that. "No, not coal mines!"

She opened her email and shot Sunny a message.

Hey, could I pop over and take a look at your dad's records? I've found something interesting.

The reply came moments later.

Sure thing! I'll ask dad now.

Zipp hopped out of her chair and headed over to Sunny's house, where Sunny and Argyle were there to greet her.

"Thanks for letting us look at these, dad," Sunny said.

"No problem," Argyle replied. "After all, the past is something we're always still discovering. Only yesterday I found a new reference to a locomotive of the Shropshire and Montgomeryshire Railway and Canal Company, and it turned into quite the rabbit hole."

"What a long name," Zipp said.

"The length of the name of a railway company was always inversely proportional to amount of track it had," Argyle replied. "Now, let's go to my study- but we'll have to keep the noise down as Goldie's trying to work."

Sunny nodded. Truth be told she always liked it when allowed into her father's study. It was one of two rooms she wasn't allowed in without special permission- the other being her mother's office, of course.

The trio entered and closed the door behind them, the distinct aroma of old paper and records soon flooding in- and helping to counteract the smell of the skin cream. "Excuse the mess," Argyle said. "I'm still busy digitising a lot of the records from the old days. Turns out keeping this stuff orderly isn't easy."

"Hey, it's OK," Zipp said. "Me and Pipp are currently compiling the Haven family records to try and trace our family back as far as we can go. We've got our line back to William the Conquerer."

"Wow," Argyle said. "I'm doing similar, but my father's also helping as he has far more spare time than me. We've got our records back to Elizabethan times- the Starshines emigrated to the United States some point around 1630, so me living here now is something of a homecoming."

Sunny glanced over. "Trust me, Skylight history is even more confusing. There's loads of branches!"

"Who's Skylight?"

"That's my mom's maiden name."

"Oh," Zipp said, flipping through a book. "Wait a moment. I think I've got something. There's a reference in this book to something else."

Argyle glanced at it. "I'll type that into a database." He punched some words into a database, and then saw it come up. "Here we are. Lost Railways of Britain, Vol. 3. I don't actually have a copy of that, but the database says Truro Library has one in stock."

"Looks like we're heading to Truro then," Zipp said.

"I'll get Salty fired up," Sunny said. "Funnily enough there's some trucks that need taking back there. Talk about convenient."

Argyle glanced over. "I don't mean to sound cruel, but you might want to have a shower before you go. There's a strange aroma coming from where you're standing."

"Pipp was testing a new skincare product, and I volunteered. It is kinda smelly, but it works well."

"If you say so," Argyle sighed. "Though I will confess I could have done a little better with the spot cream this morning."





Back at Mane Melody, the queue was out of the door for the new treatment. People were taking seats to have the new treatment.

"It's going so well!" Pipp said, as she helped to apply some. "Good for the skin, and good for business!"

"I wasn't expecting it to do this well!" Jazz admitted, as she applied some to a customer. "Guess I was wrong!"

"Oh ye of little faith!" Pipp said.

The customers, overall, seemed to be happy with the results- even if the smell was a bit of a problem. "Gotta say it works well on the skin," Posey said. "Pity about the smell though. Any thoughts, Windy?"

Just then, Jazz's phone buzzed. She checked it.

Work order: fish train to Truro. Proceed as soon as possible. No other engine available.

Jazz knew this was her chance, so she headed out. "Gotta move some fish! See ya later bye!"

Rocky took over her position. "What is with her today?"

"Maybe she's just nervous!" Pipp said. "Or she has a special somebody."

Rocky laughed nervously. "Err, yeah, right. Like that's the case," he replied, utterly oblivious to the fact he was blushing.





Jazz popped into the storeroom round the back of the store and removed several boxes of the stuff. "I need to get rid of this before customers complain and start demanding refunds! We're ruined if this gets out!"

Having piled them onto a trolley, she pushed the trolley over to the vans and loaded the boxes into the vans. "I can dispose of these into some other trucks at Truro!"

She slammed the doors on the vans, and then went off to collect Ray.





"Oh, we'd be alright/
if we make it around the horn!
We'd be alright/
if we make it around the horn!
We'd be alright/
if we make it around the horn!
And we'll all hang on behind!

And we'll roll the old chariot along!
We'll roll the old chariot along!
We'll roll the old chariot along!
And we'll all hang on behind!"

"You're all in superb voice!" said Salty. "It must be the weather."

"There's no such thing as a bad time for a sea shanty," Sunny said. "Kinda comes with growing up in a seaside town!"

"So, we need to be focused," said Zipp. "Get that book, and then find the relevant info we need. Then head back before anybody can track us. Oh, and we'll stop off at the ice cream parlour on our way home."

"Can we get strawberry floats?" Sunny asked.

"You bet we can," Zipp smiled.

After putting the trucks away at Truro, Sunny and Zipp made their way across town to Truro Library, quickly popping in and scanning the shelves for the book.

"Do they occur alphabetically?" Sunny joked.

"No, many libraries arrange books by type," Zipp replied, missing the joke. "They're using the Dewey Decimal System. I'll go look it up at a terminal and request they bring it to a table."

Sunny headed over to a table and sat down, and a few minutes later a book landed on the table. "Handy, that."

Zipp sat down and opened it, and began to scan through the pages. "Hmmm. Something here is promising, Sunny. There's something called the Strategic Reserve."

"What's that?" Sunny asked.

"Unfortunately," Zipp said, "it doesn't have any actual info. It states the information on the Strategic Reserve cannot be disclosed here as the Official Secrets Act will be in effect on it until 2035. That's a long time to wait when time is of the essence."

Sunny got up to check the book out. "Well, that's what we needed to know."

Zipp nodded. "Naturally. Next stop, ice cream floats!"





Rocky was very confused. Pipp had popped out for a moment, and Posey came over to complain.

"I don't know how to put this delicately," she said, "but this stuff smells."

"I completely agree," Rocky said, coughing as he did so. "Why Pipp can't detect it I have no clue." He then spotted something. "Wait a second. If you all hate the smell, why are you buying it?"

"That's the Mane Smelody Challenge," Posey said.

"The what?" Rocky asked.

"The Mane Smelody Challenge," Posey answered. "It's simple, really. You apply the stuff, and if you can smell it without your eyes watering you take a friend and they try the same."

Rocky pulled his phone out and checked his feeds. "It's trending on TikTok?" he said. "We're the butt of the internet's newest joke!"

"Sure looks that way," Posey said. "Best of luck with the sales!"

Rocky looked down. "Where in the world is Jazz?"





Sunny sighed as she drank some of her float. "You have no idea how happy this place makes me," she said.

"How so?" Zipp asked.

"When I was little, dad and me loved to come roller blading in Truro once a month, if not more often. Once we were done we'd come here to cool off with an ice cream or a cool drink." She sipped some more. "This makes me feel like a little kid again."

"You know, you have a somewhat elegiac view of the world," Zipp said.

"Knowing and recreating the past is fun, but at the same time we need to look forward as well. Rose tinted spectacles often overlooks the fact that we've largely ditched the drawbacks of the past." Sunny shrugged. "Besides, nostaliga ain't what it used to be."

Suddenly, an older woman stopped at the table. "Hello Sarah!" she said.

"Err, who's Sarah?" Zipp asked, then realised. "Oh, forgot."

Sunny smiled. "Good afternoon, Mrs Roselawn!"

Mrs Roselawn smiled back. "Lovely to see you here again. I remember when you and your father were regulars. But I have something for you." She placed a heart shaped locket down on the table. "This has long been waiting for one pure of heart. One with hope in their heart. One willing to fight for a better tomorrow. When the stars fall and all seems lost, seven colours shall light the doorway and restore the light."

"Thank you!" Sunny said.

"Remember, the one who has friends is the richest of all people, for they are never truly alone." Mrs Roselawn nodded. "Well, I need to be one my way. Tiberius won't feed himself!" And she was off just as suddenly as she had appeared.

"Was she always like this?" Zipp asked.

"Yeah," Sunny said. "But we always liked hearing her stories." The drinking soon turned to slurping. "Well, that's me done. Let me know when you're finished, and we'll head back to Falmouth."





"I'll be glad to have this lot out of the way!" Ray said. "The smell is something else, and it's not fish!"

Jazz checked behind her. "Maybe the refridgeration on one of the vans is leaky," she said. "I'll check it at Perranwell."

Unfortunately, there would be no such luck. As they cleared the top of the hill, the vans suddenly surged into each other, and Ray was bumped forward.

Speed rose as they went down the hill. The train went faster, and faster, and faster. Before long they were exceeding the speed limit!

Jazz applied full braking force, but it seemed to be doing little good. The extra boxes she had loaded had increased the weight to such an extent that the load was too heavy for one engine. And now they had no real way of slowing down.

Just then, Perranwell loomed into view. "Oh no!" Jazz cried. "Salty's there and he can't see us!"

Ray whistled three times- the danger sequence. As he flew over the points, a section of the track frog broke, and the trucks behind him began to derail. Their doors burst open and the cargo flew out.

Fish rained down all over the station. Boxes loaded with perfume burst open, and the bottles rocketed through the air like missiles. They smashed apart all over the platform and other objects, coating everything in a smelly substance.

Zipp gagged. "It's Pipp's perfume! How did that get here?"

"Whilst I normally like the smell of fish," Salty said, "I'm not so sure it blends with this chemical stuff."

Jazz looked mortified at the mess that was made. "Oops."





Izzy popped in through the door. "I'm here for the- WOW! That is smelly!"

"Keep it down!" Rocky said. "Pipp is nearby!"

Izzy looked at it, and took a smell. "I didn't know stinkthistle grew in the local area!"

"You know this plant?" Rocky asked.

"Sure do," Izzy replied. "I used to encounter it a lot near Ramsbottom. If you spend lots of time near it you get used to the smell."

Rocky sighed. "No wonder Pipp can't detect the stench. Why didn't I say anything sooner?"

Izzy sighed and took a seat. "I know telling a friend that something they made hasn't worked properly is hard. But if you were the butt of somebody else's joke, wouldn't you want to know?"

Pipp then appeared. "Who's the butt of a joke?"

Rocky sighed. "Pipp, you took an extremely smelly plant and turned it into an equally smelly skincare product. And now it's part of a viral trend!"

Pipp blinked. "I was surprised at the number of repeat customers today," she said. "Thanks for letting me know."

"Well, I didn't mean to humiliate you," Rocky said.

"Well, knowing I'm the butt of a joke isn't much fun, but at the same time at least I know now, and can make changes to the recipe. Let me get the rest of the stock."

She walked over to the storeroom and opened it. "Wait a second... where's all the bottles of the skincare cream?"





Opaline looked a display with a keen eye. "Perfect," she smiled. "A third of the stockpile is now ours for use in my master plan."

"What would you have us do, Your Majesty?" said a soldier on the other end.

Opaline smiled. "I need you to secure me a boat."
> Crimson Tide
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another splendid morning on the Maritime Line, and the railway was busy thanks to the tourist season and passengers who were crowding the trains with passengers.

One such formation was being worked by Charles and Sophie, where were double heading a much longer train. Charles, however, was not in too good a mood. "Why do they call it football?" he asked.

"Why does who call it football?" Zipp asked.

"These Americans," Charles said. "They call their sport American football, but the ball rarely if ever comes into contact with the player's feet! And for that matter the ball isn't a ball. It's an oblong. It shouldn't be called American football. It should be called American hand oblong."

"Doesn't really roll off the tongue, does it?" Sophie said. "That's why they usually refer to the place we were built as BRCW rather than Birmingham Railway and Carriage Works."

"And there's another thing!" Charles grumbled. "These players can't even pronounce place names properly! It's not 'Bir-Ming-Ham,' it's 'Bir-Ming-Um'. No ham involved! I sincerely hope these Americans don't import any more of their silly language to this country. I've had quite enough of people calling chips 'fries'."

Thankfully, Charles stopped after that. Now then, you are probably wondering why on Earth these characters are discussing American football. Well, that's quite the story.

Following several British sports networks acquiring the rights to broadcast American Football games, interest in the sport in the UK reached an all time high (even if many grumbled it was basically rugby with body armour). So much so, that British teams began to form, and one of these teams was the Whitechapel Brewers.

To play them for their first big televised game, an American team had been flown over to play them. Many people were excited.

"So, what's this team called?" Sophie asked.

"The Crimson Tide, apparently," Pipp said. "I don't know a huge deal about American football but apparently they're huge in the United States. They're attached to a school, apparently."

"Americans use the word school to mean university," Zipp said. "It can get quite confusing at times."

"I can tell," Pipp said. "I asked for jam one time in Strasburg. The waiter had no clue what I was talking about!"

As they rumbled along, Charles decided to crack a joke. "Maybe they'll have an egg and spoon race!"

"Do eggs and spoons race?" Sophie asked, choosing to play into the joke for a moment.

"The children race with eggs and spoons," Zipp said, with a frown. "And there was always one kid who glued his egg to the spoon and cheated. It was so annoying, especially as the school never did anything about it."

"I thought you two were privately educated," Charles said.

"Yes. Private school."





In the highlands of Scotland, something altogether different was going on. A Royal Navy submarine was prepring to leave the base for a new patrol across the globe.

The Captain took the radio. "Charlie Oscar, this is HMS Audacious. We are ready to commence our sea trials, over?"

"HMS Audacious, you are cleared to depart dock. Navigate to Marker Oscar Kilo and report sounding. How copy, over?"

"Charlie Oscar, solid copy. Out."

He placed the radio down. "All hands to stations. Engines to Half Ahead, Revolutions 1,000."

There was soon a familiar electric hum as the nuclear submarines' generators fired up, and the submarine got underway towards the first marker point. The small seaway had a few ships in it, but this wouldn't be too hard for a submarine to get around.

Little did any of them know, but there were traitors in their midst. And these people were about to turn on their own crew.

"Charlie Oscar, this is HMS Audacious. We have passed Marker Oscar Kilo. Preparing to dive, over."

"HMS Audacious, understood. Have a pleasant voyage. Charlie Oscar out."

The submarine began to descend below the waves- and then it happened.





The train had now stopped for a break, and the players had gotten out of the train for a quick rest.

"These trains are so cramped!" said one of the players. "Why couldn't we have taken a motor coach?"

"The British also seem to have tiny motor coaches," said another. "Everything about this country is smaller."

Pipp got out to talk with them. "A motor coach as opposed to what? We don't really use horse and cart anymore, although my mom can remember coal merchants using horses into the 1980s."

"You're American?" asked another player. "But I thought you were royalty!"

Zipp joined the conversation. "We're nobility, not royalty. That's the level below."

"Our mom's a duchess!" Pipp said, knowing that would excite them.

"Do you know the King?" asked another player.

"Err, no," Zipp replied. "That's several levels above us. The Dukes and Duchesses of Dorset are fairly near the bottom of the Duke pecking order."

"How can you be English nobility if you have American accents?" asked a fourth player.

"Simple, really," Pipp said. "Mom has a similar accent, which she picked up from the fact our grandmother was American."

Just then, there was a sound of slamming doors. "Looks like it's time to go again," said one of the players.

Pipp and Zipp reboarded their engines. "I really must ask them how scoring in their game works," Zipp mused to herself.

Just then, a coach roared by on a nearby road. It was also full of people, and they began to wave at the train.

Charles looked over. "The nerve they have, overtaking a passenger train! If it's a race they want, a race they shall get."





Utter chaos had broken out aboard the submarine. The captain was trying to make sense of what was going on. "What's happening down there?"

Suddenly, his First Officer turned to him, with a loaded gun. "We," he said, "are relieving you of your command."

"What is this, a mutiny?" the Captain said. "Well, not on my watch. I swore to defend this nation to my dying breath, and that I shall." He then hit a button on the desk that triggered an alarm.

The First Officer responded by pulling the trigger as more personnel flooded the bridge. "An exceptionally poor choice of words. Somebody silence that alarm."

A crew member turned the alarm off, and they shifted bodies out of the control consoles. "HMS Audacious is ours, sir."

"Excellent," the First Officer replied, and took his position at the periscope. "Ah. It seems somebody picked up that little alarm. There's a destroyer approaching our position."

"Shall we dive to avoid it?"

"No. The loch is too shallow for us to evade. Load torpedo tubes."

The display changed on the weapons platform from red to green.

"Tubes loaded."

"Lock target- HMS Duchess."

"Target lock error. Needs Captain's override."

The First Officer smiled. "That won't be too hard." He moved from his post, lifted the Captain's arm, and placed his hand on the fingerprint console.

"Target lock released. Awaiting fire clearance."

The First Officer looked at his display. "Fire."

"Roger. Torpedoes away."

A pair of torpedoes were discharged from the front of the submarine, and took a few seconds to find their target. Through the periscope, the First Officer saw both impact the destroyer, a pair of explosions blowing open the hull. Seconds later, the destroyer's magazine detonated, ripping the ship apart in a series of fiery explosions.

"Target destroyed."

The First Officer nodded. "Set a course for open seas. They can't detect us out there." He accessed a device and wrote a message.

Submarine secured. All glory to the House of Stuart.

A response soon came back. Weapons complement?

Trident missiles confirmed.

There was a short pause before the next reply. Excellent. You shall be rewarded handsomely for your service.





The express raced through the countryside, with the players onboard being bounced about like peas in a frying pan.

"This isn't a race!" Zipp said.

"It is now," Charles said. "The honour of rail is at stake, and I want it to be written in the history books that the train got there first!"

Unfortunately for him, there was engineering works on the way into London, and combined with the heavy rail traffic that normally permeates the capital this led to delays. Charles and Sophie pulled into the nearest station to the former Olympic Stadium, which was to host the game.

Charles saw the coach had already arrived. "We've lost," he said, despondent. "All that work for nothing."

Sophie tried to cheer him up. "It's not about winning," she said. "It's the taking part that counts. And the history books will remember that the train that carried the Crimson Tide to their first ever game in the United Kingdom was pulled by a pair of heritage locomotives!"

That, at least, cheered Charles up. "I guess it isn't so bad when you look at it that way," he said.

As the train was moved to the carriage sidings, the sounds of excitement filled the air. After all, when game day arrives it's hard not to feel the cheer!
> Fear and Loathing
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harvey the crane tank is a valuable member of the Falmouth community, often seen running up and down the line with the odd errand or to help with freight work. One day, he was being oiled over by his driver when the foreman came to visit.

"Hello there Harvey!" said the foreman. "Is your driver around?"

"She's currently in the inspection pit," Harvey replied. "Goldie's just checking my bearings."

Moments later, Goldie popped out of the inspection pit. "Good morning," she said. "How can I help?"

"I just got a call from the yard at Truro," the foreman explained. "They're in a spot of bother- Nigel's gone down with a damaged crankshaft, and they need another engine to help process all the freight that's arriving. Could you help them?"

"We'd be glad to!" Goldie said, and walked over to Harvey's cab. "It's not often mine and Argyle's days off coincide- he's so often doing marking for the University at weekends, which can make timing time together quite challenging."

"Just be careful to be back before nightfall," said the foreman. "There's a bad fog predicted for tonight, and it's easy to get lost in the fog."

"We'll be sure to be back in time," Harvey said, as he pulled away.

The foreman nodded. "I hope so. I've heard bad stories of engines going missing in the fog."





Later that morning, Harvey rolled to a stop at the yard. "Hello Brookes!" he said.

"Harvey!" Brookes said. "It's been a while. You ready to help out?"

"Anything for a friend," Harvey replied. "Are those trucks for me?"

"Of course," Argyle said. "And there's plenty more to process afterwards."

"Well, nothing like an honest day's work!" Goldie smiled, and shifted Harvey's cutoff lever forward.

The two engines worked very hard the entire day. It was hot, dusty, and grimy work, and many cups of tea were consumed. But neither engines nor drivers minded. Working in the company of friends is always good fun, and the fact the two drivers happened to be married simply made the deal sweeter.

As they kept on working, things got dustier. But as before, nobody minded. The change of scenery was certainly appreciated by Harvey, as the sea, although nice, does get a touch bland afterwards.

As they continued to work, the sun moved through the sky above them, until the evening rolled in. Argyle checked his watch. "Well, just one more job for me to do. There's a shipment of oil to be taken to the oil refinery at Burngullow. I'll see you later."

Goldie looked at Argyle. "How about myself and Harvey take it for you? That way you can have an early night."

"Are you sure?" Argyle asked.

"Positively," Goldie replied. "After all, you've always ensured there's less for me to do when I get in from Plymouth. I think one good turn deserves another."

Argyle smiled. "That's very kind of you. I'll put Brookes away and then start my trip back to Falmouth."

However, neither of them spotted a figure watching from above with a pair of binoculars. "Now's my chance," he said, rubbing his hands with glee. "If I can't have her, then nobody shall."

Not only that, but Goldie had forgotten the warning about being back by sundown.





After about half an hour of shunting, the train was ready. The yard manager was there, and spoke to the crew. "Be careful out there," he said. "The line looks very different at night, and there's lots of fog due to move in. Take extra caution- your engine lacks projecting headlamps, so your visibility will be impaired. Also be careful with the firebox- the glare from that could easily blind you if your eyes have adjusted to the night."

"Thanks for the warning." Goldie already knew this, of course, but appreciated the sentiment. And with that, the train was on its way into the night, powering into the tunnel and out into the Cornish night.

The run down to Burngullow went without much trouble, and once the tankers were dropped off and shunted into the sidings, Harvey was refilled from the water tower. Once this task was completed and all paperwork was signed off, Harvey set off once more back towards Truro.

This was when the trouble began. The fog began to roll in, and visibility soon dropped to virtually zero. It was very hard to see where they were going, so the lights from the signals gave the only clues as to where they were.

As they clattered through another station, a signal loomed out of the darkness. "The light is green, so we should be good to go," Harvey said. He rattled onto the line.

Unfortunately, in the fog he had gotten hopelessly lost. He didn't know it at the time, but nobody had been expecting them. Instead, he had been routed onto the wrong line entirely.

They only realised their mistake when they approached some large buildings. An overhead gantry hung over the buildings, and things were piled up on the lineside. Orange lights flickered behind doors, and the sounds of cutting were audible.

"Where in the world are we?" Goldie asked. "This doesn't look like Truro at all!"

Just then, the fog lifted... and the strange shapes at the lineside soon became clear. Bogies and traction motors were carelessly scattered across the embankment. Parts of locomotives were dumped. Shells of diesels were stacked on top of one another.

Harvey, to his horror, realised where they were. "We've taken a wrong turn! We're in a scrapyard!"

Just then, puffing echoed from behind them, and a large tank engine stopped behind them. "You're not going anywhere," he said.

"Who are you?" Harvey asked.

"You're not in any position to be asking me questions, freak," the tank engine said. "You, get off his footplate and keep your hands where I can see them."

"Or what?" Goldie asked.

"Or I push your friend here into the blast furnace," the tank engine said. "I haven't got all day."

Goldie reached into her pocket and pushed a button on her phone before stepping out of the cab, where guards surrounded her.

One looked at her. "Good. Boss'll be pleased." He then glanced to the tank engine. "Buffer him."

The tank engine slammed into Harvey very roughly, and began to push him into a building whilst the guards dragged Goldie off.





They took her to a large control room overlooking a machine. Harvey had been placed under said machine. And standing in the room was a face that Goldie didn't want to see. "Fancy seeing you here."

"You and I have unfinished business," Boomer said.

"That was over twenty years ago, Boomer," Goldie said. "If you're still unable to get over me you're even more pathetic than I thought possible."

Boomer bristled at the insult. "What do you see in him?"

"Precisely what I don't see in you; a man who actually cares about somebody other than themselves, and doesn't treat women as objects."

Boomer leaned menacingly into her face. "How could you say that about your ex, eh?"

"Oh, trust me, I know you better than most people on this planet do," Goldie said. "And breaking up with you was probably one of the best decisions I ever made." She shifted her left hand so that her wedding ring was reflected in the light from the overhead lamp. "See this band of gold? It symbolises something you will never understand- love."

This seemed to really tick Boomer off. "That Argyle brainwashed you with his nonsense!"

"He's not the one acting like a nutcase", Goldie said dryly. "Do you have any idea how much I gave up to be with him?"

"You're a middle class woman with an Ivy League education and a well paying job," Boomer snorted. "Doesn't sound like you gave up a lot, sweetheart."

Living on the other side of the planet from your family is hard," Goldie said. "Although I didn't sever connections, being a world away from the rest of my folks has been hard."

"Is that really so bad?"

"And it's not always been plain sailing," Goldie said. "It was a massive struggle to have Sunny, for instance. But Argyle has always stayed by my side and supported me through my troubles, instead of cutting and running. Which is what you did, isn't it?

"SHUT UP!" Boomer thundered.

But Goldie was unmoved. After all, she was used to people like him. "Oh, I hit a nerve. At least one of us can hit something."

Suddenly, there was the sound of sirens in the distance.

"Boss! The police are here!" shouted a guard.

"Bother those meddling fools!" Boomer said, as he dashed away. "Ready an engine for my escape!" He then pushed a button, and the machine above Harvey fired up.

"What have you done?"

Boomer smiled. "You have a choice, dollface. Either chase me, or save your friend. The choice is yours."

"You monster."

"Clock's ticking. Soon that device will close around his boiler and rip it clean off his frames. Have fun!"

Boomer sprinted out of the room as Goldie jumped to the controls nearby and began to check the levers. "OK, lifting mechanism, grabber controls, angle controls... think, Goldie, think!"

Harvey looked terrified. "THIS ENGINE'S NOT FOR SCRAPPING!"

Goldie pulled back on the lifting lever, but that sped the equipment up. She shifted the lever back the other way to slow it down, but it didn't seem to have a stop function.

"OK, so I can't stop the grabber. But I can move it out of the way!" She shifted the lever to one side, and the grabber moved closer to the control box.

"Will that do it?" she said to herself. "Wait... why's it speeding up again?"

"WARNING! WARNING! DESCENT CONTROLS DISABLED! GRABBER ENTERING FREE DROP IN THIRTY SECONDS."

Goldie jumped out of the chair and dashed down the steps into the room, which was full of dark red smoke and intense heat. "I'm coming, Harvey!"

"Hurry it up!"

"WARNING! WARNING! DESCENT CONTROLS DISABLED! GRABBER ENTERING FREE DROP IN TEN SECONDS."

Goldie leaped into Harvey's cab, released the brakes, and pulled his reverser handle back. She opened the regulator, and Harvey shot back.

It was just in time. The grabber arm began its drop, and slammed into the ground just inches from where Harvey had been.





Sure enough, the police had swarmed the facility, and were searching through it for any evidence. Goldie had been questioned, as had Harvey, but both were eventually free to go. Goldie walked back through the site to find Brookes and Argyle there, waiting to pick them up.

"So, you picked up the distress call," Goldie said.

"Distress call?" Brookes asked.

"My phone has a mode which allows it to broadcast an emergency signal to the police. That's how they knew where to find me. I presume you followed the police."

"We sure did," Argyle said. "When you hadn't returned home at the usual time I got worried and contacted the authorities. What happened in there?"

"One word: Boomer," Goldie explained. "He organised this as some sort of revenge against me for breaking up with him- over twenty years ago, may I reiterate. Then he tried to destroy Harvey. Hopefully this evidence will help them track him down."

"I should hope so too," Argyle said. "That man's a menace. Repeated threats against us, attempted revolution in Canada, terrorism- is there no low he won't stoop to in order to get what he wants?"

"I doubt there is," Goldie said. "Shall we head back to Falmouth? I'd rather not spend the evening in a crime scene.





Sunny was looking out of the window of the kitchen, waiting for her parents. Her face lit up when she saw them walking towards the steps, and she opened the door. "You're OK!"

Goldie shook her head. "What a day," she said. "Still, if that's taught us anything, it's no matter where you travel in the world, there's no place like home."
> Flour Power
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was night time in Cornwall, and the scene was oddly beautiful. The moon shone in the night sky, hanging over the landscape as the stars twinkled in the night sky. Normally, most children would have been asleep at this time of day, but not all were. The line was required to keep going through the night albeit with a skeleton crew, and this meant the sounds of engines running up and down the line were clearly audible to all watching.

Sophie was still on shed when the foreman arrived. He looked very tired, and was about to hand over his shift to the night foreman. "Good night," he said.

Sophie looked a little confused. "Isn't that normally used as a way of saying goodbye?" she asked.

"I suppose it is," said the foreman, with a yawn. "We've received an emergency order from the flour mill near Penmere. They have a cargo of flower to transport to Truro Bakery, but they can't get the cargo moved as the lorry has broken down. Therefore, you and Charles will have to move the cargo by rail. After all, without the morning toast and crumpets the region will grind to a halt."

Pipp was there too, and nodded, knowing how her mother often started the day with toast and usually a small selection of cheese, complimented with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice or coffee, and this meant she had to get this job done to avoid annoying the locals. "On our way, sir!"

She jumped in the cab, fired up Sophie's engine, and before long they were on their way. The line weaved about in strange ways in the dark, and figuring out where they were going could be difficult with such low light levels. But thanks to the signals (and the fact railway lines always lead in one direction with junctions set in advance), they arrived at Penmere, where trucks were sitting in the platform. These were currently being loaded with bags filled with flower.

"Now, where is Charles?" Sophie asked. "He should be here by now."

"Hello!" said a voice, and sure enough Charles was there, sitting to Sophie's left.

"How long have you been there?" Pipp asked.

"About five minutes," Zipp replied. "We can't exactly go until you've cleared the points. That's rather how single track railways work."

"It is a bit strange though, isn't it?" Charles said. "The gas lamps, the dim lighting- it feels like something out of film noir, doesn't it? Any moment now a burly detective will appear and start talking through the side of his mouth."

Zipp leaned out of the cab, a deerstalker on her head. "Elementary, my Dear Pipp."

"He never says that in the books," Pipp replied. "Now then, shall we get this flour moved?"





The train was split into two separate formations, and Charles set off with the first portion. This meant a long wait for Sophie, as the single line would not clear for a while. She sighed, and her eyes began to drift about. Beyond the hazy lights of the station and whatever few lights remained on in Penmere, the place did have a somewhat spooky air. The whistling noise through the branches didn't help.

And there was a constant knocking noise, which was more irritating than scary. "There's a tree, blowing in the wind," Sophie said.

"Better that then a candle," Pipp said. "Or maybe an answer."

"I'm not sure the readers will get that joke," Sophie replied.

Izzy suddenly appeared on the platform. "Breaking the fourth wall is my job, not yours!" She then just as suddenly vanished.

"What was that about?" Pipp asked.

"Beats me," Sophie replied. "I've not been able to figure out how she does that- you know, fourth wall break and teleport about the place."

They continued to wait for what seemed like ages, until there was a sudden rumbling sound in the distance.

"What a strange sound," said Sophie, as they got on their way. Quite apart from that sentence having a satisfying sense of sibilance, the rumbling sound soon grew louder.

Just then, a truck suddenly appeared in their view, stuck on a level crossing. "STOP!" Sophie shouted.

It was too late. They slammed into the cart and smashed it apart on impact, and its cargo flew high into the air and all over Sophie.

Sophie coughed. "I think some of that got in my intakes," she said, looking annoyed.

Pipp, on the other hand, looked mildly amused. "You're all covered in flour!" she said. "You look like a ghost!"

Sophie looked forward, a devious plan forming in her mind. "Charles does like a good ghost. Shall we give him a scare?"

Pipp smiled. "I love a good ghost story too. Let's do it!"

And with that, they rattled away, seeing nothing out of the ordinary for the rest of the trip.





Charles had just finished shunting at the yard, and was about to move off the stabling line when he suddenly heard a strange sounding horn. "What was that?" he asked.

"It sounded oddly familiar," Zipp said, and she looked back- before she realised why. Pulling into the goods loop was Sophie, who was covered in flour and looked very odd indeed. "Hey! You are aware Halloween's in October, right?"

"Well, don't Americans mark Christmas in July?" Sophie asked in return.

"That's a nickname for Independence Day," Charles explained. "Usually involving a lot of barbeque and fireworks."

"Still, good effort on the disguise," Zipp said. "It had me fooled for a moment."

"Well, it came together by accident," Sophie said. "You see, somebody left a cart in the line..."

Once their work was completed, both engines returned back down to Falmouth together, and parked up on the stabling siding together ready for the next day's work. Pipp had already promised to wash Sophie down the next morning, and sure enough the ghost of the branch line was returned to her former identity, ready to continue her work for the Falmouth Branch.
> The Case of the Suspicious Statues
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As was always seemingly the case when not trying to create a negative mood-

"Mr Author, I think you left some of your notes in the chapter!"

Izzy, I'm currently correcting that!

"Oh. OK. Then I'll leave you to it!"

EXCUSE ME A MOMENT AS I FIX THE STORY...





It was a lovely sunny day in the county of Cornwall. The sun shone, as the sun does on sunny days, and the grass was green. But the eternal question still remained- is it always sunny in Philadelphia?

"I don't even live there!"

I know, Sunny. That's why I was asking the question, not to mention the float too.

Anyway, the sun was shining and the sky was blue, and the narrator wasn't speaking incredibly slowly. In short, it was a good day all around.

Charles was waiting at the junction at Truro for some cargo to arrive. "What was it again?" he asked Zipp.

Zipp consulted her work order. "The text says something about a Special Special, but that doesn't make sense. Maybe the foreman's keyboard was broken when he wrote it and it duplicated the word special numerous times?"

"Sounds silly," Charles replied. "I mean, why call it a special special? A special train, by definition, has priority over all other traffic, so adding the second special doesn't convey extra meaning and simply wastes words."

"It's good if you're trying to artificially inflate the word count on a story, though," Argyle said from nearby. "It's partly why setting word limits on academic work can be a problem. Students get ridiculously verbose in order to hit the word count more easily."

"Rather like the decrees," Charles noted. "Those are always written in excessively flowery English."

"Yeah," Zipp noted. "It still feels weird to be referred to as 'issue'."

"What are they?" Brookes asked.

"It's an old fashioned way of saying somebody has kids."

"Ahhh," said everybody at once. Except Zipp.

Just then, a freight train arrived. One of the vehicles in the formation was a rather wide van. "A vanwide!" Charles said. "I haven't seen one of those in a while!"

"There aren't many left in the UK," said the engine, as she was detached from the train and moved off to the loop. "Take care with the package inside! It's marked handle with care."

Charles was then backed onto the train, and once Zipp was done coupling him up they were on their way back down the line to Falmouth.





As it was a surprisingly busy day, virtually every section of line was in use. This meant Charles was constantly stopping and starting on his way down the line with his cargo. The first stop was Perranwell, where Charles came to a stop before the signal- a little too aggressively, might I add.

"Careful!" Zipp said.

"You applied my brake handle, not me," Charles replied. "It's on you."

The box had shifted inside the vanwide, but nobody knew this. Just then, Rebecca arrived with a fish train.

"Hello Charles!" she said. "You look cheerful."

"I am transporting a very important item, which must be handled with care," Charles smiled smugly. "I get this job because I am, of course, important."

"I didn't think it was possible for him to get even more puffed up than he already was," Hitch said.

"I heard that!"

Luckily for Charles, the signal then changed, and he was back underway to Falmouth. There was another loud bang from the vanwide as he got underway.

"That didn't sound good," Hitch said.

"Well, at least Zipp wasn't pouring syrup all over a bronze statue, was she?" Rebecca asked, rhetorically.

"Why would Zipp be pouring syrup on a statue?" Hitch asked, confused.

"In case the statue was hungry?"

Hitch shook his head. "Pouring syrup on a statue because they think it's hungry? Who'd be daft enough to try that?"





Next, Charles had to stop at Penrhyn to let a passenger train arrive. To his surprise, Bellerophon was pulling it. "Fancy you, pulling passengers!" he said.

"I am vacuum fitted, you know," Bellerophon replied, as he came to a stop. "All change!"

There was another bang from the vanwide. "Sounds like the box has shifted again," Charles said.

"A box?" Misty asked. "What's in the box?"

"Something important," Zipp replied. "Which is why it would be nice if it stopped sliding about."

"Is it alive?" Bellerophon asked. "That might be why it's moving?"

"Why would something that's alive be transported in a crate?" Zipp asked. "I'm pretty certain that would breach animal cruelty laws. If it were alive it'd be moved in something like a cattle van or an elephant van."

"Good point," Misty said. "Otherwise somebody might want to put fish in the box."

"Who'd be daft enough to try that?" Zipp snorted, and then the signal changed. "Right, away we go!"

They pulled away- and once again there was a loud bang from the vanwide.

"That doesn't sound good," Bellerophon said. "I hope that whatever it is, it arrives in one piece."





One last loop sat between Charles and Falmouth, and as he pulled into the loop at Penmere another train rolled in, loaded with vans filled with drinks.

"Hello!" Salty said. "Not often I get a trip up to Truro!"

"What are you taking there?" Charles asked.

"Sunny's experimenting with selling her drinks at the station," Salty said. "She's going places, I tell you."

Sunny stuck her head out of the cab. "What are you transporting?"

Just then, the load in the vanwide shifted again. "Something very mobile," Zipp replied.

"Maybe it's cheese?" Sunny suggested.

"We won't take that risk again, not after the cheese fiasco a few months back," Zipp said. "I don't think putting a smoothie in it would help either."

Sunny blinked. "That's weirdly specific. Wouldn't pouring a smoothie in there make the object sticky?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if somebody tried it," Charles said, just as the signal changed. "Right then! Only a mile to go!"

And sure enough the object in the vanwide moved again.

Salty looked over. "I don't think that load has been secured very well."

"You can say that again," Sunny replied.

"I don't think that load has been se-"

"Overused joke, Salty!"





At long last, they arrived in the yard, and Charles (after quite a bit of shuffling stock) shunted the vanwide into the loading dock for unloading. The workmen took the box out of the van and loaded it onto a small electric vehicle, and drove it away to elsewhere in town.

Just then, Zipp heard an incredible noise coming from the main street. "What on Earth is that?" she asked, and headed off towards the noise to find out what was going on.

When she arrived, she was amazed. Proceeding through the streets of Falmouth was a parade! And what a parade it was! Leading the formation was a set of four brass bands, each playing patriotic tunes and sounding to the blaring of trumpets and drums. Behind them were personnel of the CCF, marching in perfect step with one another and spaced precisely six inches apart.

Behind them came more brass bands, and after them followed the Town Council. There was the Mayor, followed by the Aldermen (and women) of the town. Behind them was the Town Cryer, and completing the procession was a pair of men carrying big sticks with crowns on the end.

And then, behind them, was the family Bentley- with Lady Haven inside.

"What is going on?" Zipp asked a bystander.

"There's a big event happening in the town square!" said a bystander. "Come to think of it, why aren't you with Her Ladyship?"

"Just got back from a delivery job, but I'll head up there now."





Zipp arrived just as the last of the formation arrived, and the CCF stood off to one side still as statues. Which was mildly creepy. The Bentley had pulled up, and Lady Haven and Pipp had gotten out.

The CCF members turned to face them, and then the Mayor began to speak. "As a marker of our humble gratitude to the fine works conducted by the fair Duchy of Dorset, we hereby dedicate this display to them."

Lady Haven glanced over to Zipp. "Over here!" she said.

Zipp quietly scooted over and stopped next to her mother as the veil was removed from the object. Zipp recognised the box behind it, and her jaw dropped in horror.

The object was a statue. And the statue was quite badly scuffed.

"Oh no..." Zipp said quietly. She felt very foolish.

Pipp noticed this, and switched sides to put her arm around her. "No worries!" she said. "We can just apply some polish and it'll look good as new!" She produced her phone and hit a button. "Isn't that right, Pippsqueaks?"

Sure enough, the townsfolk got to work on polishing the statue, and when they were done it looked good as new. Zipp looked at it closely. "Wait a second... the statue..."

Pipp grinned. "It's us!"

The Mayor smiled too. "All the work your family has done has helped regenarate our town," he said. "And we thought this statue would be a fitting way for us to give back."

"Besides," Lady Haven said, with a smile, "cleaning it helped bring us all together. Selfie, anybody?"

And so the town square sounded to laughter and joy.
> P. A. Problems
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

One morning, Porter propelled some coaches into the platform at Falmouth. "Morning!" he said.

To his surprise, Sophie was there as well. "Hello?" she said in return. "Not often I see you doing this job!"

"Salty fancied a change of scenery," Porter replied, with a smile. "I was happy to oblige."

Just then, a series of musical notes played. "Attention all passengers. Attention all passengers. The coaching stock that has just arrived is not in service. Do not board the coaches until instructed to do so by a member of staff. Thank you.

Every station relies on its public address system, which is critical for communication. Often informally called a tannoy, after the company that built many of the first public address systems, this equipment informs passengers of what is going on and what platforms to go to. This, combined with the departure board, tells passengers where their trains are departing from, making it absolutely vital for operations on the Maritime Line.

Unfortunately, a rather more elderly passenger, who appeared to be a little hard of hearing, had not quite understood the message, and began to board the train.

"Excuse me, ma'am!" called Izzy. "Those coaches aren't in service right now!"

"What?" the passenger asked.

"I said the coaches aren't in service right now!"

The woman shook her head. "I didn't know coaches began with a K. Must be one of the strange changes to the English language."

"No, madam," said Izzy, now a little baffled. "Coach begins with a C, not a K. But these coaches are not in service."

"Then why are they in the platform?"

"Because Porter just shunted them in!"

"I didn't see a porter push them."

"OK."

"You said that coach begins with C, not K. So is it K C or just C?"

"What?" Izzy asked.

The passenger's eyes lit up. "Of course! C. K. Watt! He must be the station master!" And she walked off, quite pleased with herself.

Izzy blinked. "That was the wierdest conversation I have ever had. And that's saying something!"

The Public Address system then began to play again- but something didn't sound right at all. The message was slow, oddly slurred, and made little to no sense.

"What's going on?" Porter asked.

Pipp looked out and looked at the speakers. "It looks like they aren't working properly."

Just then, the passenger from earlier spoke up. "What?"

"I said they're faulty," Pipp replied.

"The Station Master, C. K. Watt! He's faulty?"

Pipp blinked in confusion. "I don't really follow." She then saw the woman had a hearing aid. "Is your hearing aid faulty?"

"Not at all!" the passenger said. "I just don't turn it on. It wears the battery down otherwise."

Pipp sighed. "That completely defeats the point of a hearing aid."

"What?"

"I said it completely defeats the point of a hearing aid!"

"Sorry, what?"

"I said it completely defeats the poi- oh, I give up!"





The actual station master needed some help. Although extremely good at managing a station he was not the most technically minded of people, and as such he usually called in outside help when the electrical items started having problems.

Argyle and Alphabittle were in his office. "What appears to be the problem?" Argyle asked, adjusting his glasses.

"The Public Address system is behaving oddly, and is completely incomprehensible," said the station mster.

"Isn't that normal for Public Address systems?" Alphabittle asked.

"It would have been in the 1980s," the station master said. "But this system was installed in the 1990s. If the passengers cannot hear what's being said, they shall miss their trains and we'll be in a right muddle!"

"We'll be glad to help," Argyle said. "I may be a professor of art history, but I know my way around wiring, if you know what I mean."

"Then this should be a relatively easy job," Alphabittle replied. "Let's get to work!"





A few minutes later, some wiring had been changed in the speaker system, and Alphabittle popped outside to check it was working.

Unfortunately, the message that played was still completely incomprehensible, as there was a lot of feedback.

Argyle glanced over as Alphabittle popped back in. "Well?" he asked.

"Too much feedback from the speakers," Alphabittle replied. "The speaker unit is picking up its own playback. We'll need to tweak the sensitivity of the microphone."

So they started again, and eventually adjusted the microphone to try and fix the problem. But when Alphabittle popped outside to check the system, the changes had produced another unintended side effect.

The feedback was gone... but the message was incredibly high pitched!

Salty pushed some coaches into the platform and looked over. "What in the Seven Seas?" he asked. "Have they got a group of chipmunks on the speaker system today?"

Alphabittle, once again, popped back into the office. "It's still not working," he said. "It sounds like a group of Clangers are doing the announcements."

Argyle rolled back from under the desk. "What are Clangers?" he asked.

"You don't know what the Clangers is?" Alphabittle asked.

"No, I don't. Remember I am about twenty years younger than you."

"Gee, thanks," Alphabittle said. "Anyway, we need to make another change. Hold on."

After a few more minutes, they had made more changes. But the problems only got worse. When Alphabittle stepped outside to check the speakers, the announcements were now playing backwards!

Sophie was still sat there, and was still listening to all the chaos going on. "This is absurd!" she said. "How can anybody understand what to do?"

Pipp sighed. "Excuse me a moment." She hopped out of the cab and stepped into the office, to see Alphabittle and Argyle frantically adjusting things.

"Kinda busy, Pipp!" Argyle said.

Pipp frowned. "Have you tried turning it off and on again?"

"Unless you have something useful to propose I suggest you leave us to it," Alphabittle said.

Pipp rolled her eyes. "I know exactly how to fix this. Excuse me, coming through!"

With that, she sat at the desk and made some adjustments on the computer display, moving some dials. "Who thought panning the audio over there was a good idea?"

After the slides were moved, she moved over to the microphone. "Could one of you stand outside whilst I test this?"

This time, Argyle went outside to listen.

And then, the message rang through clear as day.

"Good morning Pippsqueaks! This is the voice of your station, Pipp Petals, keeping you vibin' with the latest announcements! The next train leaving the station is the 10:30 to Truro, so totes be onboard! Love you lots, bye!"

Argyle was amazed, and walked back in. "How did you know how to fix it?" he asked.

"Easy," Pipp replied. "This is no different to configuring audio for a stream. I could do this in my sleep."





Thankfully, everything was now back to normal, and with a quick blast of music to check the configuration the system was back in order.

Far from the old stereotype that those connected to the internet have nothing to share, it was precisely the skills Pipp had acquired from streaming that had saved the day.

And, happily, the railway was now back on track. At least they knew who call if things went wrong!
> Ghost Division
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hear ye, hear ye!" Hitch called, from a stand in the centre of Falmouth. "I am proud to announce that the most frightening of festivities, the most spooktacular of scares, and the most mundane of maledictions is upon our fair town once more!"

"You do know Halloween isn't for another seven months, right?" asked a listener.

"I know indeed," Hitch replied, "but in keeping with the old town tradition we shall have a maze of many frights and haunts. Of chills and spills! Of slips and slides! And of-"

"People and trains getting smart?" Asked somebody else.

"That only happens if you don't concentrate on the thing that you're doing," Hitch pointed out. "This year we shall be marking the most spooky of systems on a moving train! A scare maze that ends in a different location to where you start!"

"Don't most scare mazes in a different location to where you start?" asked another listener.

"Sort of," Hitch said. "But there shall be so much to do! Trick and treating, a costume contest, trick and treating whilst engaging in a costume contest- wait a second, that's a typo- and whomever can locate the golden pumpkin will win a special prize!"

That seemed to rile the crowd up. "I may give this a look," said one spectator. "Count me in!"

Jazz and Rocky were at the back of the crowd, and looked over the heads of the other people to try and figure out what was going on. "A big prize?" Rocky said. "I like the sound of that?"

"So, what could it be?" Jazz asked. "A treasure trove of chocolate?"

"A gourd dipped in gold?" Rocky suggested.

"Or how about a treasure trove of chocolate inside a gourd dipped in gold?" Jazz proposed.

"Whatever it is, I'll be racing to find it!" Rocky smiled.

"Not if I get there first!" Jazz grinned, and was soon on her way.

Hitch smiled. "Looks as though this year's event will be going better than I could ever have thought!"





In the carriage sidings, the team were busy decorating the coaches with all sorts of spooky decorations. "I've done all sorts of odd things," Pipp said, "but a fright event in March? This is completely new. I'm not totally sure who I'll be dressing up as yet."

"Probably a witch," Zipp said.

Pipp's eyes went wide. "How did you know?"

"It was either that or a princess when we were younger," Zipp said. "Any excuse to wear a puffy dress, really."

"I'll be pushing the boat out this time," Pipp smiled. "Now that I'm almost an adult I can really make it spooky!"

"I'll be a vampire," Zipp smiled. "Those are always popular." She then switched voices. "Zey von't know vhat hit zem!"

"What was that accent?" Sunny asked.

"An intentionally bad German one."

"But I thought Dracula was Romanian?" Hitch enquired.

"At the time the book takes place, Transylvania was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire," Zipp clarified.

"Interesting," Sunny said.

"I'll be a wizard!" Misty said. "Should be easy for me, given the weirdness we seem to find on a daily basis."

"You're a wizard, Misty!" Pipp quipped, and they all momentarily stopped working to laugh.

"So, what'll you be, Hitch?" Izzy asked.

"Arr, I'll be a pirate, ye mightiest thing on the Seven Seas!" Hitch said. "And avast, I'll be keepin' up me accent the whole day!"

Salty glanced over. "That is one of the worst Cornish accents I have ever heard."

"Unfortunately, I don't have a parrot, so an accordion will have to do," Hitch said, as he produced an accordion and began to play it.

"I never knew you could play the accordion!" Izzy said.

"Trade secret. Now then, Izzy, what will you be dressing as?"

"A ghost," Izzy smiled. "A ghost made of mayonnaise!"

"That's oddly specific," Pipp said. "Why not something else, like-"

"DON'T SAY IT!"

Pipp shrugged. "What? I wasn't going to say white pudding."

Izzy then jumped in a bucket and started singing.

Sunny looked over. "We'd probably best spend less time gossiping and more time working. We've only got a limited amount of time until the train is booked to depart."

None of them noticed that the piles of cans they had made were mysteriously falling through the floor.





Now at the platform, Misty looked over. "So why exactly are we running a scare maze in March?"

Sunny stepped forward to explain. "A long time ago, Falmouth was home to a Mr. Hamada. Mr. Hamada was originally from Japan, and in Japan there is a tradition of running spooky attractions when the temperatures begin to increase, as spooky chills cool you down. Although he no longer lives here, we've continued the tradition in his honour."

Just then, the coaches were backed into the platform as a cart arrived. "Delivery of lots of apple products!" shouted a man driving a delivery lorry.

"My orders have arrived!" Sunny said, dashing over. "Here! Let me help you load them into the buffet car!"





In an underground bunker, Opaline was watching the festivities from a camera. "Enjoy your apple treats whilst you can, Sunny," she smiled. "What I have planned means you will never think about- wait a second, why are they enjoying apple treats? Any pastry chef worth their salt knows that the only good deserts are made with strawberries!"

Her speech was interrupted by a can of baked beans suddenly landing on the floor next to her. "What the?" She picked the can up and looked closely at it. "Boomer, have you been testing your new teleporter again? Because teleporting baked beans isn't hugely useful!"

She suddenly saw more cans falling into the room and landing on the ground. "This is most peculiar."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Enter!"

"The door opened and a soldier stepped in. "Ma'am," he said. "We have found a new connection for the Strategic Reserve. It turns out it connects to the Cornish town where the traitor lives."

Opaline smiled. "Of course," she said. "That explains the baked beans! I've found a backdoor into our enemy's land, and will be able to attack them when they least expect!"





Back on the train, Pipp was checking the decorations in the other coaches. "Cobwebs, check!" she said. "Scare actors in compartments, check!" She then walked along a little further. "Bathroom- with no floor. Best put an out of use sign on that."

Just then a ghost flew by. "Zipp, is that your drone?"

"Yes it is, dressed up as a ghost!" Zipp said, appearing from a vestibule.

"Pipp, how much glue did you put on the cobwebs?" Misty asked from down the corridor.

"A bit. Why?"

"Because I'm stuck to it!"

Pipp shook her head. "Sunny, can I borrow the pizza cutter?"

Suddenly, all the lights in the coaches came on at once.

"The light effect works!" Izzy said, bouncing down the carriage. "This is perfect for simulating lightning!"

"It'll also blind everybody," Pipp pointed out. "Their eyes will have grown used to the dark and the sudden shift in light levels will make a mess of that!"





Having gotten herself free from the cobwebs, Misty walked into the buffet coach to see Sunny arranging all the food items. "Sure is a lot of food here, Sunny!" she said.

"Thanks!" Sunny said. "I baked most of it myself. There's a spare Cornish pasty if you'd like one- Lighthouse original, of course."

Misty looked closely. "What's pomme?"

"French for Apple," Sunny replied. "We've certainly got a lot of it here."

"How many different treats have you got here?" Misty asked.

Sunny thought for a second. "Let's see. Apples for bobbing, caramel apples, apple spice smoothies. Oh! Juggling apples, carving apples, apples to draw spooky little faces on, fried apple spice donuts, baked apple cinnamon cobbler, frosted apple  spice cakes, apple-flavored water, which is just like regular water but you add apple pulp to it." She paused. "So I guess it's technically a juice."

"How did you learn how to make these?" Misty asked.

"Dad taught me," Sunny said. "Actually learned it from his dad, or my granddad. He was always saying that the idea that only women cook is a stereotype that needs to be broken, and given he was in the military being able to cook a ration pack is a useful skill. Not only that he made loads of American staples as he was homesick due to being based at a UK airbase." She paused. "Seriously, you should try the family meatloaf. It's fantastic!"

"Was your mom military too?"

"Nope," Sunny replied, as she moved a tray. "Actually met my dad whilst on a business trip in Germany. Dad was out photographing steam locomotives as part of his degree, and well the rest is history. They'll be along later to help me manage all this stuff."

Misty tried one of the pastries. "Wow. That is seriously nice. I bet you were popular at school parties!"

"Mainly for the food," Sunny said quietly. "My school years were a bit of a mixed bag- but let's not focus on that right now. Right now we have a party train to prepare!"





Back in her bunker, Opaline was readying her disguise, having adopted a grey business suit. She'd also tied her hair back into a ponytail, and sorted some hair strands around. "I probably won't be recognised looking like this," she said, as she applied a filter that adjusted her skin colour. "This should be exciting. Get ready, Falmouth. Opaline's back in town."





Back at Falmouth station, passengers were boarding at the rear of the train, being held in position in the luggage compartment of an old brake coach. This was partly because setup wasn't quite finished- some decorations hadn't been put into place, and Sunny had vanished off to the bathroom to get changed into her costume.

But if they thought they were going to have a real fright that night, it would come from an unexpected source. In the middle of town, a hidden doorway popped open- and Opaline climbed into the night air. "Perfect!" she said, as she closed the hatch behind her. "Time to turn this night into a nightmare spectacular!"

"Hello!" said a voice, and a man with a beard walked over. "I haven't seen you around here before. Are you knew to town?"

"What?" Opaline asked, and then adopted a more professional air. "Yes, yes I am. A new arrival, indeed. I'm on business in the region and fancied seeing a local town."

"Well, you'll find plenty of fish and fun tonight!" said the man with the beard. "Have fun, err... what's your name?"

Opaline had to think quickly, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Lindsay."

"Well, have fun, Lindsay!" said the man, and he walked away.

Opaline smiled. "Well, that went better than expected. Time to see what else I can find."





The train was finally ready, and with a roar it got underway. The holding pen was opened, and the passengers began to make their way up the train.

Unfortunately, they weren't very appreciative. "Did they buy all these supplies at Poundland?" said one person, looking very unimpressed.

Not helping the situation was the fact the effects kept breaking. A zombie's eyes consistently failed to illuminate, and lights kept randomly coming on.





Opaline continued her stroll through Falmouth. "Nobody so far has recognised me," she said. "Good thing. If they really all are this dumb, taking this country over will be a doddle- after I've dealt with the obvious, of course."

"You look like you're having fun!" shouted a spectator. "Seriously, do you ever break character?"

Opaline looked at him. "My character cannot be broken!" she snapped.

"She's intense!" said another, and they started laughing.

Opaline backed up and checked a device. "Perfect. I have a chance to test this object." She snuck up next to a lorry, and took out the stone she had recovered from the military base. "Sleep tight."

Just then, some energy started flowing out of the lorry and into the stone. After a few seconds, the lorry's face vanished, leaving just a bumper.

Opaline smiled. "It worked. Proceeding to evac point."





Back on the train, some of the crowd had reached the buffet coach- and it was complete chaos. Sunny looked about frantically. "You're supposed to eat the apple off the stick! It's not a toothpick!"

"I'll eat it how I want, thank you," they said, before throwing the stick on the floor.

Another crowd walked past and just grabbed the pastries off the plates, ate them, then walked on.

Goldie looked at them. "You're supposed to pay for those!"

"No I'm not," said the first visitor. "I never had one."

"You ate it before you got to the till."

"And if it's in my gut I don't need to pay, do I?"

Argyle walked over with some more. "How have we already gotten through 60% of our stock?"

"Because people keep taking loads without paying! It's one per person!" Sunny said. "This is so frustrating!"

When another person walked past and grabbed an entire plate of items, Sunny lost it. "Give those back now!"

"Or what?" they said. "You touch me and your face will look like pancake batter."

"I don't think you want to follow through with that threat," Argyle said, leaning over him ominously.

Just then, the train pulled into Truro, and the nightmare was finally over. People began to troupe back down the carriage to be let off- only to find the door at the back of the buffet coach locked. "What is this?" said one. "We're stuck!"

Sunny looked over. "You can't leave the train until you've paid for the food you took. It's in the conditions of carriage posted at the station."

"Well, how precisely do you plan to prove who took what?" said another person.

Goldie smiled. "It's a good thing I thought to install a security camera." She looked at the footage and smiled. "You, for instance, took an entire platter of iced buns. Each platter had 30 buns on it, and iced buns were 50p each, so you owe Sunny 15 pounds."

The look on their face was priceless.





Opaline returned to her bunker with a smile- and a glowing casket to boot. "Perfect!" she exclaimed. "The process worked perfectly! Everything is falling into place."

"Excellent," Boomer said, alongside several of Opaline's high command. "Are we ready?"

"No," Opaline said. "Not just yet. We are still yet to locate the Forgotten Ones. But I have a plan for that. I have many fingers in many pies in this land. And when the time is right, we shall strike. And then... I shall reclaim my birthright denied to me by those Dutch imposters who keep the throne warm." She smiled. "It won't be long now. Once I have returned to power, this nation will cease to be the laughing stock of the world. Soon, my followers... soon we shall build an empire on which the sun shall never set!"
> Closing Credits
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



CAST - IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE

Richard Hammond - Porter
Kimiko Glenn - Izzy Moonbow
Vanessa Hudgens - Sunny Starscout
Jeremy Clarkson - Captain Charles
Liza Koshy - Zipp Storm
Mackenzie Crook - Brookes, Samson
Michael McKean - Argyle Starshine
Rachel Miller - Rebecca, Green Goddess
Keith Whickam - Salty, Gordon, Henry
Teresa Gallagher - Sophie
Joseph Swash - Bellerophon
Toby Jones - Nigel
Sofia Carson - Pipp Petals
James Marsden - Hitch Trailblazer
Tara Strong - Goldie Starshine
James May - Ray
Samantha Bielanski - Jazz
Athena Karkanis - Fifi, Opaline Arcana, Glory
Bahia Watson - Misty Brightdawn, Peach Fizz
Jane Krakowski - Lady Haven
Richard Coyle - Lt. Col. William Haven
Lisa Silver - Onyx
Nathan Evans - Harvey
Christopher Ecclestone - Jeremy
Phill LaMarr - Alphabittle Blossomforth
Geoffrey Rush - P. T. Boomer
Ellen-Ray Hennessey - Elderflower, Mrs Roselawn
Kaia Oz - Seashell
Richard E. Grant - Lord Haven
Johnathan Langdon - Edmund the Ice Cream King
Ken Jeong - Sprout Cloverleaf