Locum Tenens
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The Island of Sodor's weather is well known to be a popular concern. In this case, on a Thursday morning, it was chilly and damp with chances of rain and gusts of wind in the late afternoon. It was, in fact, a chilly and damp potentially rainy and windy Thursday on the Island of Sodor.
Having clarified the forementioned meteorological situation, it was also a Thursday upon which a new diesel engine was scheduled to arrive at Brendam docks. Despite previous unsatisfactory experiences with diesel-electric locomotives, Sir Topham Hatt (Bt) had engaged the services of this particular unit after Emily had thrown a connecting-rod and required several days off work to have a new part machined and sent over from the mainland.
(Emily had been tremendously apologetic for the incident, and had been reassured that she was a Really Useful Engine and needn't dread the omnimpresent threat of scrap more than usual.)
Men on the barge from the mainland coupled hooks to the diesel's frame and with a grumbling effort Cranky hauled him free of the ship-dangling over the water-and finally set him down on the rail line running by the quay. "What's your name?" demanded Bill and Ben, who had watched the whole performance with identical truculent expressions of distrust.
"...Rudolf," said the diesel, eyeing the pair of them uncertainly. "Er. I was sent to work back-up while one of Sir Hatt's engines was repaired?"
"Huh," said Bill (or Ben). "Another diesel. Bet this one's going to have more toothaches?"
"Bound to," said Ben (or Bill). "Prob'ly going to bump the coaches and be sent off in disgrace. It's...what did BoCo say?"
"Narrative convention," answered BoCo, gliding smoothly up behind them. "Welcome to Sodor, ah, Rudolf. Don't mind the twins, they're always like this. How was the journey?"
Rudolf blinked at the newcomer, looking relieved. Older model, a Metrovick Type II, what his old fitter had called a proper workhorse. "Er, just fine," he said. "Except the stormy bit where everyone felt ill, but that didn't last long. Please, could you show me to the line where I'm to work?"
Bill and Ben shared a deeply distrustful glance. BoCo ignored this, and gave the new diesel an encouraging smile. "Of course. It's just this way. You'll want a proper fill-up after the journey, we have fuel at our depot, and I'm sure Sir Topham Hatt will want to see you at Tidmouth once you're sorted out."
Rudolf felt a little better, but the blatant mistrust demonstrated by the pair of (museum-piece) tank engines had shaken him. It was extraordinary to see steam engines outside of preservation railways-steam engines grubby and cheerful and obviously worked hard and used to the job, rather than sitting pristine on plinths while admiring tourists came to stare. Of course he'd known Hatt's railway was still mainly steam, but...
He wasn't old enough to have met many actual working steam engines, and he'd always sort of thought they were semi-mythical. It was somewhat of a shock to see them alive, well, and belligerent.
Rudolf was further cheered to encounter another diesel, Mavis, who assured him that the twins were mostly bark and little bite, and after a refreshing fill-up of fuel he was on his way to meet his temporary Controller at Tidmouth Sheds.
He didn't get very far. A familiar shape-a BR class 8 diesel shunter, sort of like a black brick on 0-6-0 Whyte notation-sat squarely in the way, a mile or so out of the docks. Rudolf's driver put on the brakes, and he hummed to a stop behind the other engine. "-What's the trouble?" shouted his driver, a kind man named Wilf.
Nothing happened for a few moments, and the Class 8 shuddered. Eventually another driver, grimy and cross-looking, emerged and came up to Rudolf. "You the replacement for Emily? Not before time. Diesel's...not well. Got something stuck in a cylinder, can you push us to the junction so I can call for help?"
Rudolf winced. He'd briefly had a clog in an air intake once and it had made him feel dreadful: actually having something in one of his cylinders was the stuff of nightmare. "Of course," he piped up. "Can't we? We're due at Tidmouth but surely Sir Hatt won't mind if we stop to help, right?"
The other engine-Diesel?-groaned a bit, and his driver wiped grease from his hands with a rag. "That's as may be, but we'd be mighty grateful for the push."
Wilf nodded, and let Rudolf creep carefully forward to buffer up to Diesel, and their drivers coupled the engines together. Rudolf pushed as smoothly as he could, not wanting to make Diesel feel any worse by bumping him, and together they hummed off to the junction station.
It meant they were fifteen minutes late coming into Tidmouth, and Rudolf was unhappy-but unsurprised-to see a short rotund figure in remarkable headgear tutting at his watch as they pulled in.
"Are you Rudolf?" demanded this individual. "You're late. I expect engines on My Railway to be on time and prepared to work."
"Yes, Sir," said Rudolf, "I'm sorry, Sir, I understand the importance of keeping to timetables, only we did stop to give another engine a push, Sir."
"Another engine?"
"I think his name was Diesel? He wasn't at all well and we just pushed him along to the junction and came on to the Sheds. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Sir."
"Hmm," said Sir Topham Hatt. "I see. Well, Rudolf, I can overlook the tardiness this once. See that it doesn't happen again. You are to take over Emily's duties while she is at the Works. That means no dawdling, no gallivanting, no mischief, and absolutely no nonsense. Do you understand?"
"...Yes, Sir," said Rudolf, with a sinking feeling in his oil-sump. But this wasn't forever, just a few days while one of this man's other engines was repaired. He could survive anything for a few days, couldn't he?
Couldn't he?
Wilf patted his controls. "Rudolf's a grand engine," he assured Sir Topham Hatt. "There'll be no problems, Sir."
"See that there aren't." Hatt got down from the crate he'd stood on to address them, and hurried away.