CHAPTER XVII – Tom Swift and His Elec­tric Loco­mo­tive begins on a note of cau­tious opti­mism as Tom and Ned trav­el across the coun­try, reas­sured by the steady updates regard­ing the safe­ty of their prized elec­tric loco­mo­tive, Her­cules 0001. Even the curios­i­ty and con­fu­sion sur­round­ing Koku, their tow­er­ing com­pan­ion, amused more than alarmed the rail­road crew. Yet that com­fort is short-lived. Near Hen­drick­ton, the jour­ney is sud­den­ly halt­ed. News spreads of a freight derail­ment ahead—Train No. 48 has gone off the rails. Tom and Ned exchange a wor­ried glance. The Her­cules was part of that con­voy.

At day­break, the two rush to the site, cut­ting through debris and twist­ed rail­cars to find their inven­tion. Relief floods them when they see Her­cules 0001 intact, upright, and posi­tioned toward the front, untouched by the chaos behind. A rail work­er stand­ing near­by offers a bemused warn­ing about a “wild man” guard­ing the cab. Tom smiles, know­ing it’s Koku. The loy­al giant had refused to leave the engine, pro­tect­ing it through the night like a sen­tinel. Tom’s voice quick­ly calms him, and Koku, though vis­i­bly anx­ious, relax­es. The bond between them is unmis­tak­able. Despite the wreck, the project remains intact—just bare­ly.

Amid the recov­ery work, Tom and Ned begin to observe more than just mechan­i­cal dam­ages. They notice a man with a refined look, ner­vous­ly pac­ing and ques­tion­ing offi­cials about some­one named O’Mal­ley. The name trig­gers con­cern. Andy O’Mal­ley had once infil­trat­ed Tom’s work­shop under false pre­tens­es, clear­ly linked to past efforts to steal his designs. His presence—now his absence—can’t be a coin­ci­dence. Ned pulls Tom aside, not­ing that if O’Mal­ley was onboard the train, he’s van­ished with­out expla­na­tion. There’s no injury report bear­ing his name. No sight­ing among sur­vivors. Just a man who should be there—and isn’t.

That real­iza­tion changes every­thing. The crash, once assumed to be acci­den­tal, begins to feel sus­pi­cious. Tom recalls the metic­u­lous care tak­en to secure Her­cules 0001, both legal­ly and phys­i­cal­ly. Yet some­one like O’Mal­ley, backed by rival inter­ests, would have every­thing to gain from inter­fer­ing with its progress. Could the wreck have been orches­trat­ed to sab­o­tage deliv­ery? Or to mask the theft of key com­po­nents? These ques­tions hang in the air, unan­swered but heavy. The sit­u­a­tion has evolved from an unfor­tu­nate acci­dent to a pos­si­ble act of indus­tri­al sab­o­tage.

Tom quick­ly checks the loco­mo­tive again, this time not for dam­age but for tam­per­ing. Every­thing appears intact. But that doesn’t ease his con­cern. A train wreck makes the per­fect cov­er for covert activ­i­ty. Koku insists he saw no one approach, but even he had to rest briefly dur­ing the night. Tom now real­izes that every delay, every unfa­mil­iar face, and every unex­plained absence must be viewed with sus­pi­cion. The stakes are no longer just about technology—they’re about trust and pro­tec­tion in a world where inno­va­tion invites not just praise but attack.

As they leave the site, Tom speaks qui­et­ly to Ned about tak­ing greater pre­cau­tions. From now on, every move­ment of Her­cules 0001 will be doc­u­ment­ed. Guards will be dou­bled. Com­mu­ni­ca­tions will be secured. And any name tied to pre­vi­ous incidents—especially O’Malley’s—will be shared with rail­way author­i­ties. Tom isn’t just build­ing a loco­mo­tive. He’s fight­ing to pro­tect the future of elec­tric tran­sit. And the more suc­cess it promis­es, the more resis­tance it draws.

The chap­ter clos­es with the team reboard­ing a sup­port train, head­ed for Hen­drick­ton with their loco­mo­tive care­ful­ly recon­nect­ed to a secure track. Though phys­i­cal­ly unharmed, they all under­stand that this derail­ment was a warn­ing. Her­cules 0001 might be able to endure steel and storm, but the real threats lie in shad­owy com­peti­tors and silent sab­o­tage. For Tom, this wreck becomes a turn­ing point—not only in how he pro­tects his inven­tion, but in how he views the world it must trav­el through. Progress, he learns, demands more than inge­nu­ity. It demands vig­i­lance.