"Come on, put your back into it! You act like you've never rebuilt a station before! Don't give me that look, you're the assholes who volunteered to work on the Island of Sodor, I'm pretty sure that you knew the risks when you started!" Gordon growled and stamped back over to the other seven engines, all on a tea break. Their fifth of the day.

"Bit harsh, don't you think, Gordon?" remarked Edward, sipping on his brew casually. The big engine grunted, and backed down angrily next to James and Henry.

They were in the midst of yet another renovation project. They had somehow managed to find hardhats made specifically for engines, and were now 'helping' the construction crew fix up the Smelly-by-the-Sea fishing village. Helping of course, in the broadest possible sense of the term. A fly could have helped more than Gordon, Henry and James at the moment.

"Next time, I'm getting a plastic mac!" James muttered rebelliously. "The dust is playing havoc with my temple of a body!"

"You know, perhaps the problem with this is lack of mood music." Henry suggested.

"What, do you want us to do Feng Shui and move the trucks around so that the chi can flow more effectively through the yard?" Duck was in a good mood today, mostly because he had finally been allowed to get drunk for a bit.

"No, he's got a point actually." Toby looked around at the grumpy sods doing the working. "I mean, at this point, we can hardly do worse, can we?"

"So what song shall we ploy? Er, play?"

In answer to Percy's question, Thomas turned to the massive ghetto blaster that the Fat Controller had set up to inspire morale in the troops, and banged it lightly. "Okay lads, our theme song is coming up. Three...two...one."

And as one, they belted out together!

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE WE ARE!
BORN TO BE KINGS!
WE'RE THE PRINCES OF THE UNIVEEEEEEERSE!"

And at last, the theme was cued.

...

Dear Miss Allcroft.

Thank you once again for the confirmation of another series to be filmed on our Island. Allow me to extend the usual courtesies, that you may bring Mr Angelis, Mr Asquith and of course, Mr Mitton, and that your stay will once again be provided by Harry Topper's Hotel of Happiness! Please be aware that there is a rodent infestation, and we can't afford to put you up anywhere else. A free brick has been given out to each guest, so don't worry about that.

Let me also offer my condolences for the failure of your movie at the box office. I am aware that last time you were on the Island, some...harsh words were exchanged. Edward was a little bit peeved that you appear'd to have cut him out of the movie entirely, and in fact seemed to ignore his existence entirely. I still don't think that quite covers him declaring the movie to be cursed as a result, but he had been under a lot of pressure at the time. Carlin was also angry that he didn't get a look in and that you instead got one of the Baldwins to do his job...but we all just ignored him.

But anyway, your department has contacted us regarding the need for new engines. Much as I am loath to bow to the merchandising on any level, I do see the practical point in it. Luckily, the two engines that I have ordered shall be unusual to say the least, and I hope that they will satisfy your need for new content. I am aware that one can only shoot Thomas coming off the rails so many times before the audience gets bored.

Wishing you all the best!
Sir Topham Hatt.

P..S: Try and tell Mr Angelis not to fall in the canal this time, please?

...

All of the engines on the Island of Sodor love their work. Now, stop sniggering! It's true! Look at how happy Edward and James are to be pulling trucks, while Gordon pulls the express and mocks them repeatedly. See how they laugh! See how they deliberately try and knock him off the track! Good times!

But sometimes there is too much work. Too much work by the Fat Controller's definition, mind, as if we were to follow the definition as set out by the engines, that would mean...well, any work, really. So that's when he has to get a new engine over to help out. And also for marketing purposes, new engines tend to get people talking about the series again.

And one of these engines was just being unloaded at Brendam Docks. He looked to Oliver, who just so happened to be there with Toad. He spoke to him. At least, Oliver thought he did. "

Ahoy there, me bucko! Why, be a beautiful day and no mistake! Maybe ye can be tellin' me th' way that I'm supposed t' go, me barnacle-covered lad o' thar seven seas!"

Oliver blinked. "Erm...riiiiight, um...you're headed for Anopha. So...keep going straight until you come to the junction, then turn right."

"Ah, ye have a kind heart, me bucko! I shall sin' yer praises t' th' Cap'n, whoever he may be! ye and I must get together and be tellin' stories o' our conquests and plunderin'! Hahaha, and dinna spare the whip!" And off Salty went.

"Mr Oliver?"

"Yes Toad?"

"Why do we always get the nuts?"

"Shut up, Toad."

All right, let's see what the back of his toy tells us. Ahem. He loves to tell tales of the sea. It's a pity then that we had to censor most of them on grounds of decency. There he is, already off on one of his rambles.

"We heaved until th' barnacle-covered freighter moved at last, to be sure! Ah, 'tis good t' be useful! Isn't that right, Polly?!"

"MRAW! PIECES OF EIGHT, PIECES OF EIGHT!" said Polly, his driver, who had been at sea to long and/or had been with Salty too long, and had become convinced that he was a parrot. As Salty trundled along the countryside, listening to Polly echoing his comments back, he somehow failed to notice the increasingly obvious signs that he wasn't heading towards the docks as he had hoped. He was very odd like that. He had been very excited to come here, mostly because of the somewhat obvious logic that Sodor was an island, and islands are surrounded by sea. And fish live in the sea. And he caught fish. And Polly ate them. Bones and all, sometimes.

In case you couldn't tell A; Salty loves the sea and B: Salty is a bit of a loon.

...

"Oh god."

"Why do we always get the nuts, Bill?"

"Not a clue, Ben."

As Salty drew in, the twins grouped together nervously as he approached. They had had some characters over the years, but never one as out there as this diesel seemed to be. Their fears were not assuaged when Salty opened his mouth. "Ahoy, mateys, salty, pride o' the seven seas 'ere! I 'earrr ye be 'avin' work fer me to be doing! I be a new diesel, though I've been through some right things o'er the years, an' I be 'ere to give ye some 'elp!"

Bill blinked. "Was that English?"

"Why, it's th' Queen's own english, don't ye be knowin'? What I'm saying be as clear as th' prow on yer faces! N' fine prows they be too, aren't they, Polly? Whar's th' cap'n? I wish t' make parley with him!"

"I think he's been in one too many crashes, if you know what I mean."

Mavis had been watching this for some time with dawning horror on her face. But at last, she decided to act. She was going to make the best of a bad situation and damn anyone who could tell her otherwise. "Ahem, that captain be,...is me! I'm Mavis, and welcome to the Center Island Quarry! It looks like a bit of a dump, and it is, but that's why you're here!"

Salty's fixed smile stayed on even as he made the following calculations.

To the north: Rocks.
To the south: Rocks
To the east: Rocks
To the west: A bronze statue of someone named 'BoCo' and rocks.

"A quarry?! But I'm a diesel o' th' open briny deeps, lass! I can't be below decks fer too long, fer fear that me lungs may visit Davey Jones' Locker from th' lack o' briny deep air!"

"...Well, if that means what I think it means, you're a quarryside diesel for the moment." And Mavis explained that the Fat Controller had a not-too specific job for them to do, one that he hadn't made up off the top of his head just to give the fools something to do while he got on with actual important work, no sirree.

Salty was sad (Nay, heartbroken) that he wouldn't be working besides the sea, but he did know that he had to be a really useful engine. Mostly because the back of his toy told him he had to be. So he set to work at once.

After he had three pints of grog, of course.

...

"Ah well, at least there be trucks!"

"You better mind them, I know that you've probably dealt with trucks before, but these ones here seem to have malice and rage specially bred into them! Even though they've become a bit lightweight recently, that still means-"

"Aaaarrrr, wrench, a truck be a truck!"

"Call me wrench once more and you'll be eating through a straw for the next few years of your life."

"He won't last five minutes." muttered Bill.

"Those trucks will trip him up soon enough! And then we can laugh! As we always do...we really should get new hobbies."

"Nah, Ben, you're talking rubbish! This'll be fun!"

But to the twin's surprise, Salty and the trucks seemed to get on as well as water and sand. Salty being the water, wearing down the trucks until they were far more malleable, with his songs and stories and complete invulnerability to anything that the trucks threw at him. And they could respect that. The songs were not top ten material, or even top forty, but the trucks seemed to like them. "Yo ho ho, n' a bucket o' prawns, th' tiller spins-"

"AND THE CAPTAIN YAWNS!"

"KILL ME NOW!" shouted Bill. Ben had already knocked himself out on the rock wall. Thanks to Salty's work, the Fat Controller's 'important' job was nearly complete. Which means that, shock of all shocks, it might not have been that important in the first place. Bill and Ben, once he had woken up, were both surprised and jealous.

...

"I HATE SALTY!"

"Calm down, Bill, you know that you come out in rashes when you get angry." Mavis said, trying to sound sympathetic and failing.

"Here comes Mr Showoff! He'll probably be telling us about that incident with the three-breasted mermaid and the randy old fisherman again! If we can understand him! And could you please ask him to take a wash!?"

"You have to admit, he has a knack with those trucks. And he did far more work than you two, you just stayed in your sheds sulking like little babies all day while me and him actually did the work! I've even managed to get him to stop calling me wrench, skivvy or anything else equally as degrading. He's learning, unlike you two!"

"PAH! Driver says he's full of hot air, and that he'll bore the bolts off us with his stories!" snapped Bill.

But Salty didn't come anywhere near the sheds. He stopped just besides the coal hopper and said not a single word to the three engines. This suited the twins just fine, but Mavis couldn't help but feel a little startled. She crept out of the shed and moved to a distance where the smell wasn't quite so overpowering. "Hey, um, if you want, there's room in the shed."

"Arrr, thank ye kindly. Oh, I twas thinkin' I might catch a bit o' briny deep breeze. Hear th' gulls one last time."

"You really do miss the sea, don't you?"

"Yeah." said Salty, sadly. "I do."

...

But enough emotional drama! We had enough of that in Magic Railroad, am I right, lads?

Salty knew that having emotions and feelings came second to doing the 'important' quarry work that was never really defined properly. So he decided to extend a olive branch to Bill and Ben in the form of advice on the trucks. "I like working t' a musical tune, so I do. So do th' trucks! We be lovin' th' barnacle-covered classic 'Thar Once Twas A Lass From Regina'. Try it out, see if ye don't get further than ye did yesterday!"

"Well...it's worth a try."

And so the twins buffered up to a train of trucks. "Here we go, here we go!"

"No we don't, no we don't, that's football, we hate that stuff!"

Try as they might, the twins were no match for Salty's incredible singing abilities. They spent the rest of the day wondering if they had lost their touch, and if not, had they ever had said touch in the first place. It was a very reflective time for both of them that they both promptly ignored the next day.

Later that day, the Fat Controller came to the quarry. Truth be told, he was not as impressed as he made it out to be, but considering that he had given this 'important' job, he decided that he might as well throw them a bone. "WELL DONE!" He said, forgetting once more to turn the volume down.

"It was Salty who did all the hard work, sir!" said Mavis. The twins decided to ignore everything that wasn't their bruised egos.

"Really? In which case, I have another job for you!"

"Aye aye, gaffer. What kind of quarry is it?"

"Quarry?" said the Fat Controller. "This was just a clerical error on my part! I'm sending you to Brendam Docks!"

"THE DOCKS! BY THE SEA?"

"That...is the one I refer to, yes."

"Thank ye sir! This reminds me of a time in-" And off he went. Unfortunately, we can't tell you what story this was, as it was too vulgar even by our standards. And that should tell you a lot.

...

"Why do we always get the nuts?!" snapped Cranky, as Salty babbled on.

Now Salty works at Brendam, and he loves it. He does more work there than any three engines (Though considering the current standard of said engine, that doesn't say much) and only the trucks know his secret.

Though it's really not hard to guess.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Thomas Abridged Volume II! Hope you are well, and enjoy this chapter. If it seems a little rougher than usual, it's because somehow I accidentally deleted the original chapter a few days ago, and therefore have literally rushed my guts out to meet my self-imposed deadline for the first chapter. I am still proud of it, however, and I shall answer any questions/reviews in the next one!

Credit for the lovely cover image must go to Genericuser22!

Full steam ahead!