1965
"You're wrong."
The diesel glanced over at the class 46 who had just spoken with a look that made the class 46 think otherwise.
"It's true though," it replied, "that's why we're here to replace them."
"Steam engines are good."
"Really?" the diesel cackled in laughter, "explain the two world wars before our time? Steam engines were replaced by diesels in Germany and France almost instantly the war. The French knew they had adapted to survive with their failure of protecting their own country, and the German engines were disgraced forever."
"The steam engines here have been working for more than two decades longer! That must mean something!"
"Oh D199," scoffed the Class 40, "don't you get it? The steam engines have been on these rails for too long, they've been manipulating society with making the public and government keep them on. They've been polluting the air and the people which created them, they've been slacking on their jobs making the other countries look superior, even Germany! We were built to replace them, and make this a better world! We need to do our duty and make sure we destroy them once and for all and once that's done, we'll be seen as heroes who defeat those fire breathing monsters!"
"There still could be good steam en-"
"Never will be! See for yourself!"
D199 stared at the diesel engine, the diesel was three years older, built in 1960 and he was built in 1963. The Class 40 glared back, staring at him with dark eyes mixing with D199's sun burning ones. The bright, cold moon had just emerged from the old, dirty houses that looked like they had showered in coal and the goods yard in Blackpool had the sounds of steam and diesel engines moving around the yard. The Class 40 clicked his tongue.
"You do this... mate," he continued, "you take your little goods train to Barrow-In-Furness. Then look for steam engines with colours no other steam engine has, like they don't belong on this land."
D199 looked up to the class 40. "Alright..." he said, with a whir of his engine. He started up and took off into the yellow beaming lampposts, to look for his train.
He collected his train, it wasn't long, but wasn't light either. He travelled along the mainline, he only saw two or three trains. Two were diesels, hooting a 'hello' to the class 46 as they rushed past with their evening passenger train. The other was a steam engine, the class unrecognisable with it's paint and dirt matching the night sky. It was pulling a long, dirty coal train and was going at a very slow pace.
D199 tooted to it, but the steam engine didn't reply, only carried on towards it's far away destination.
The class 46 sighed and continued on his journey without seeing another passerby. He arrived at the middle of the night. He glanced around, he had never been here before. He was reallocated two weeks ago to Blackpool and had only gone down south, this is his first time going up north. He came to a sliding stop on what looked like arrival and departure tracks at the corner of the yards of Barrow and next to the mainline. The sound of his engine getting cut off made a vibrating sound and now there was only the sound of the wind going into his grills.
"Oi!"
The diesel startled, banging the trucks lightly.
"Oh oh oh!" screamed the trucks.
"Shut it back there!" said the same voice that frightened the class 46.
D199 then saw a small, saddle tank engine pull up next to him. Seemingly coming out from the yards.
"You're in the departure track mate," he hissed, "that's for trains that are suppose ta leave. Not for trains that arrive."
"...Alright," said D199, "sorry."
"Yeah," said the saddle tank, "make sure you don't do it again."
"I'll try," replied the class 46, trying hard not to rude, but his response gave the saddle tank engine a suspicious look within his eyes.
"You can go," he informed, "leave the trucks here, I'll deal with them."
"Alright," the diesel obliged, "thank you."
The saddle tank only mumbled something under his breath.
He got to the depot, and the thoughts of the Class 40's words came back to him. The unresponsive steam engine whilst he travelled on his journey and the tank engine that was quite rude to him just a few minutes ago. He wanted to think the steam engines were nice l, but how could he? Two years steam engines have been only given him anxiety and tension between them. But he wished that there were good steam engines.
The slamming of a lid made D199 jump out of his thoughts, his driver walked up to him. "Okay 199," he said, "I'm going to the office and take a break there, I've left the control lever on so you'll be able to move around. Make sure you are here in an hour if you move off."
"Okay," replied D199, and his driver left.
The moon held itself high above in the sky. Dark clouds covered bright stars. D199 stayed there for fifteen minutes, until he got bored, he rolled off towards the mainline. It would be busy there, he thought, and he came to a stop.
He then heard a high tone whistle, a whistle that he had never heard before. It sounded like it didn't belong to these rails and as he came to a stop, a building hiding him from within a corner, he saw a diesel on the departure and arrival tracks and a steam engine arriving the opposite way to when he came in.
"Probably from the North," he mumbled to himself. But then he noticed something that was distinguishing from the engine as it came under some lampposts.
It was red.
It's shape was nothing the peak diesel had seen before and he could all but watch in awe as the engine came in proud and stern. The diesel on the other track to the obscure, red engine had the noticeable BR green livery. It had the shape of a cuboid, and looked like a BR class 53. It stood there, watching the red engine coming to a stop with steam wheeshing out in all directions of it's pistons.
"You're late," said the class 53 after a tense, silent moment between the pair. D199 took in the only visible face, which was the red engine's. He looked annoyed, and one of his eyebrows were raised high. He was dirty too, looking like he hadn't a clean for a week and a scar covered part of his cheek. D199 began to eavesdrop on their conversation, the class 40 had said that there were steam engines in different colours, there was one right there. He stayed with the shadows.
"I'm right on time you fool," said the red engine. His accent sounded like he came from Yorkshire, but it seemed he was losing it. The class 53, just continued to just stare at the red engine.
"If you're not early. You're late."
The red engine snorted, as his crew uncoupled him from the train. "Oh please," he said, "don't give me that. You sound barbaric-shouldn't say that actually! You don't know your English very well."
The class 53 growled. "Watch what you say twit," he threatened.
"Or what?" quizzed the red engine.
The class 53 paused, then murmured something to the red engine that D199 couldn't hear and he couldn't see the class 53's face either since he was facing the other direction. D199 also observed the crews they were talking to each other nearby, but didn't seem to hear what the class 53 had murmured to the red engine. The red engine's reaction would stay in the diesel's mind forever. His right eye twitched and his brow came down so low. His teeth appeared from his mouth, top and bottom gritting each other.
Whatever the diesel had said, he had clicked a button.
Most class 53 were genuinely nice, one of D199's friends before being reallocated was a class 53 and he was nicest in their group within the sheds. The diesels have always said that the steam engines were very sensitive, especially the older ones. He looked away from his buffers and back to the intriguing pair. The red engine began to move away, hissing steam at the diesel.
"Go turn yourself around," he ordered.
"I've got different ends," replied the class 53, "I don't need to turn around."
"Well get onto the train then," said the red engine and he steamed past the diesel. But as he rushed past with no crew in him, D199 noticed something oh his fowler's tender. There was no British Railways logo on it. Only the number five. D199 had heard tales of these engines. Those engines who don't bare their railway's logo and only the numbers. Distinct colours with no real purpose behind them. D199 had now understood what the class 40 meant, he was near the borders of the North Western Region, and island which accepts steam engines. A place which could mean the downfall of British Railways. The class 53 began to move away in the opposite direction, a few minutes later, the red engine came back, reversing on the line the class 53 was once on.
Something then distracted D199, a shrill whistle that sounded from the Western Region came out. He then saw a small pannier tank engine arrive with a small train coming from the same direction as the red engine had. The pannier had a feminine face, young looking but dirty looking. Only that she bared the BR black. D199 watched as she puffed past, like he was invisible to her. He went back to where the red engine was, he looked like he was finishing his conversation with the trucks. The trucks, those devils that every engine agrees are the venom to their rails. He watched intensely, as he heard the honk of a horn, and the class 53 came back into view. D199 watched closely as the other diesel backed down onto the train that once belonged to a steam engine.
Their crews then came strolling back up and began to yell at them, saying how they both weren't allowed to move off without them. It was a rule after all the engines working on a railway. The class 53 rolled his eyes as his driver climbed into his cab and the iconic clicking sound of the diesel's control lever being switched off was heard within his gears. Both D199 and the red engine watched intrigued by this whilst the driver clambered back out of the cab. He came up to the steam engine's crew, they spoke a few words and all three crew members left their engines once again and headed into what presumably be the resting quarters for engine crews. The class 53 was still facing the other way, staring towards an old, brown van. The red engine just looked the other way; luckily not noticing the diesel hiding behind a building.
Then, it happened.
"Biff him!"
"Bash him!"
The trucks began to bump the diesel from behind.
"Stop that right now!" snapped the class 53, looking quite annoyed. The trucks carried on whilst the red engine just looked on with a bemused smile.
"Can't control the trucks!" he remarked.
"Shut it you!" snapped the class 53, "I mean it!"
The trucks banged into each other harder and harder, until...
CRACK!!!
The class 53 began to slowly move forwards.
"What's happening?" he exclaimed.
The red engine looked on in disbelief, but not saying a word as the diesel continued to move.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!" shouted the class 53, as began to pick up the pace with the trucks laughing and wailing as they slowly headed towards the mainline. "SOMEONE HELP ME!!"
The crew members all ran out of the shack and the diesel's driver began to run after the diesel. D199 took a sigh of relief as the driver ran after his diesel and luckily going at a much quicker pace then the class 53 and his train. The train then managed to slow 'till it came to a stop. D199 couldn't the diesel and the first few trucks since a building was mostly blocking his view, but he still could hear the yells of the class 53.
"You maniac! I blame that red piece of scrap for this!"
"How could I have done it!" retorted the red engine, "your brakes must be weak!
"You made the trucks do this!" came the yell of the class 53.
"It doesn't matter what was the cause of this incident," shouted the steam engine's driver, "let's just focus on getting him off the mainline before the fast goods arrive!"
Fast goods? Of course there's a fast goods!
Then they heard it. The sound that made all of them.
The sound of another diesel's horn.
"He's coming! He's coming!" screamed the diesel.
"Get him the blazes of the mainline!" shouted a signalman from his box.
"Get me off this line driver!" called the red engine, the driver obliged, and he and the fireman climbed into the cab. Steam pumping into his pistons, the red engine reversed quickly away from the train. The rolling stock began to move back too, but more slowly.
"Come on!" screamed the class 53, D199 almost held his breath. The sounds of a horn came again, much louder than previously. The signalman went back into his signal box as the sounds of vibrating rails and the purring of a diesel were beginning to be heard within the distance. There was a click, and then a yell from the class 53.
"You coward!"
Men were beginning to runaway from the train and D199 saw his own driver running out from the shack and the diesel's driver as well, both ran like a mouse running from a cat. The horn was heard again, the engine of the diesel was beginning to become louder and louder and louder. The class 53 began to curse as the train slowly went backwards, the trucks all murmuring to each other in fear.
At last, the diesel came into view. But it wasn't called a fast goods for nothing. The other diesel came screeching past, too quick for D199 to recognise the class as it went behind the trucks, the shape only being seen for a few seconds through gaps of the other reversing train and disappearing behind the building that blocked some of D199's view only to hear a horrific crash in the next second. Pieces of metal and wood were seen appearing from the building as D199's jaw dropped in shock and his brow raised as the rest of the trucks on the class 53's train tipped over and the fast goods train's trucks piled on top of each after flying in the air with the impact the train injured. After a few more seconds, the sounds of trucks derailing, being tipped over, or crashing back down thanks to gravity. They all stopped. In D199's perspective, you could hardly imagine the state the trains were in.
Men came running back and shouting towards the horrific scene and through the buildings and lighting. D199 could see a red engine, looking on at the bottom of the arrival and departure tracks, he was looking on at the scene with a face of both pity and shock. Something changed within Diesel 199. His brow lowered from shocked, to furious. And his own teeth appeared within the darkness, almost replicating what the red engine looked like a few minutes ago. He began to reverse away into the shadows of Barrow yards and return to the depot within it.
The steam engines weren't good at all. They were monsters. Killing humans and diesels for themselves.
Diesel 199 will make sure that the dieselisation will commence and he will help with getting rid of all of those beasts.
1967
Cameras flashed, people shouted, Gordon complained as he sat in a siding at Vicarstown next to his brother, the Flying Scotsman.
"You'll get used to it," he said sympathetically, "after a while."
Gordon blinked a couple of times after looking straight into a flashing camera. "I don't think I will 'get used to it' quicker than you have," he replied, "how have you coped?"
"Well..." chuckled the Flying Scotsman, "after reaching one hundred miles an hour it has been quite a celebrity lifestyle."
"Indeed," agreed Gordon, "our books have helped us with our survival an--AURGH!!"
The Flying Scotsman laughed as Gordon cringed from a nearby camera man flashing at him. He blinked a couple of times and looked back to see his brother smirking back at him.
"What you said earlier," mumbled Gordon, slightly annoyed, "I'll get used to it."
The Flying Scotsman chuckled and winked at a camera the other way. Both engines looked handsome, their faces weren't exactly the same like Donald and Douglas' or Bill and Ben's. But you could tell by their faces and not just their shapes that they were related. Steam was at its final stages of being abolished and yet at the same time, it wasn't. With the Beeching Act taking place, old branch lines were able to be saved or preserved like the Bluebell Railway down south of Britain and steam engines were brought from scrap yards or from the railway board to run on these lines. There are even engines being preserved for museums like up in Yorkshire. Gordon found it incredible, it seemed like the ideas of Thesang paid off well.
But Gordon and Scotsman were the only engines of their class left. Scotsman survived by achieving records. Gordon survived by books. Plus a good controller, his name was Sir Charles Hatt, second controller of this railway, son of the first controller, Sir Topham Hatt I. Gordon loved both of them dearly. Plus the recent events a few months made Gordon and all the others certain of their future working on the railway. Even with Stephen Hatt (son of Charles) was non-verbally promising the engines a safe future.
Gordon looked back at his brother, who was trying to make himself look handsome towards the cameras. The big blue engine chuckled to himself lightly. But Scotsman noticed. "What is it Gordon?"
"Oh, just my little brother trying to look impressive," responded Gordon smugly.
Scotsman scoffed. "Scotsman and Scott I'm fine with," he said, "but little brother? Certainly not! Besides, he paused dramatically, "I should call you little brother, since my two tenders and all-"
"Alright! Alright!" interrupted Gordon, "I get it now!"
Scotsman only laughed and smiled at the cameras. Gordon then noticed from the corner of his eye, that two, blue boxes came into the yards. He fully looked over, Scotsman did too and both saw two diesels enter the yard. One looked like a class 46 and the other a class 35. Both surveyed the yard, the class 35 looked content and humble. The class 46 seemed to be the exact opposite, he looked as if he would bash you to pieces if you go up to talk to him. Gordon then noticed the diesel's drivers get out of their cab and go over to the yard foreman. They talked for a while and then headed to the foreman's office. At last, the camera men were ordered to leave the two big engines alone and were sent away. Gordon and Scotsman glanced over to where the diesels were still sitting.
"Have they said a word?" asked Scotsman to Gordon.
"I don't think so," Gordon replied.
Silence echoed in the yard. Gordon made a decision. "I'm going over there."
Scotsman sniffed. "Good luck brother."
Gordon moved slowly towards the pair, luckily he had his control lever on, the two diesels looked over. The class 35 raised his brow whilst the other diesel gave a judgmental glance. Gordon stopped on the track that was a few yards right from the line where the class 46 was. The diesel was now trying to give a threatening glance, but Gordon had gotten so used to these sorts of glares from diesels that he didn't care whatsoever.
"Hullo," he said, "my name is Gordon, what is your's?"
The class 46 didn't reply, keeping his stare on the big engine. But the class 35 gave a friendly grin back. "Hello to you too!" he replied, "my name is D7170 and-"
"Stop talking D7170," spoke the class 46.
"Why can't I D199?" scowled D7170, "we're guests to their region!"
"Railway," corrected Gordon.
"Really?"
"Well... we're slowly getting there."
"You'll never get out of British Rail, scrapheap," growled D199.
Gordon stared back at the diesel for a second, then groaned. "You're one of those diesels."
D199 fumed. "And you one of those scum, you're worse as the Nazis you are."
"D199!"
Gordon only sniffed as Scotsman came up to the left of his brother. D7170 had the face of 'here we go again' and D199 was staring daggers at the big engine. Gordon pondered on what to say. "I believe," he said, "that if you're going to have that sort of attitude, then you might as well keep it to yourself."
D199 sniffed and rolled away. Gordon watched him disappear and looked back to D7170, who looked like he'd rather be dead. The big engine sighed and raised a brow at the hymek. "If you're going to act like that, you might as well take him back to the mainland."
"Oh, no!" replied D7170, "I'm sorry about him, he... hasn't really been that well with steam engines. Ever since I've known him he has hated steam engines to the bitter core of his engine."
"I see," replied Gordon, Scotsman watched his older brother intriguingly. "Well..." he continued, "you might as well stay there."
"Cheers," D7170 thanked.
Gordon reversed and only replied with a , 'Mmm-hm'.
Scotsman followed Gordon. "You sure about diesels?" he asked.
"Pardon?"
"You're letting that diesel off," said Scotsman, "he could be scheming for all we know!"
"Do you?" asked Gordon.
"Diesels can't be trusted," wheeshed Scotsman, "they're the reason why so much suffering has come to us steam engines."
"Not all diesel engines are bad Scott," said Gordon, using the nickname he and their siblings have given the Flying Scotsman, "some diesel engines turned against us because we made them do so."
"You don't know that."
"I do Scott," said Gordon, "I know too much of what happened between us diesel and steam and we've helped make the diesels what they are."
"Diesels are manipulative and seductive," hissed Scott as they both came to a halt to where they were originally, "diesels are scum of the earth,"
"Not all diesels are bad," Gordon argued, "trust me, two have saved my life."
"One, Gordon!" snapped Scott, "that class 28 barely saved you, he only got rid of two troublesome twins pulling your wheels!"
"How do you know about that?"
"Books Gordon! You were the talking point on the lines of London for weeks when that book came out!"
Gordon groaned, of course his closest sibling is more annoying than the class 35. "He still helped me and like I said, there was another who saved."
Scott huffed out. "I just don't want you to lose your world like I have," he said.
Gordon sighed. "Don't worry," he said, "I won't let the others down either."
*
"I want ta kill those wee bastarrds."
"Donald-"
"Och Duck! We nae in public at tha momeint!" wheeshed the Scottish engine, "might as well curse for all I care!"
"But one of them is still here."
"Aye. And?"
"Well this is pleasant," said D7170 sarcastically "never thought I would be so well welcomed!"
Donald wheeshed steam. "Ya better watch ya back, you pesk!"
"Sorry," said D7170, "but you were the one who started being rude first."
"I-I...urgh," Donald pulled out of the sheds to collect his goods. Duck groaned and looked over to the hymek.
"I do apologise on behalf of his behaviour," informed the Great Western engine, "he and his brother saw the full brunt of the dieselisation and his brother was almost scrapped because of it as well."
"That's understandable," replied D7170, "I wouldn't be that too trusting with something that threatened my life."
"They have trust in Boco," continued Duck, mentioning the newest edition to their fleet. "You have to gain it, and it made the poor diesel go mad for it."
Both engines chuckled. "Thank you," replied D7170, "you have been very kind to me."
"Thank you for shutting up that disgusting diesel," said Duck, "the things he said to us were just not supposed to exist in an engine's mouth."
"I know," replied D7170, "I apologise for that. But you've got to admit, he did have a point on one thing."
"Begging your pardon," said Duck, "but what do mean by that?"
"You barely have any female engines," D7170 laughed.
"Oh... that," Duck smiled, a little sheepishly, "we've only got Daisy, and that was back in 1962."
"And that's it?"
"Well, there are more female coaches than males," replied the Great Western, "but... that's it."
D7170 chuckled. "Well I must get going," he said, "my timetable says that I've got the Limited this morning and I don't want to mess it up."
"You haven't messed up so far," said Duck, "you'll do fine."
The hymek diesel grinned. "Cheers," he said.
"I better get your train ready," informed the Great Western engine.
"You sure about that?" asked D7170.
"I am station pilot here," chucked Duck, "I think you need to get ready anyways for your journey."
The Great Western blew his proud whistle and puffed away to arrange, D7170 followed so he himself can get ready.
Meanwhile, an olive green engine watched them both leave. He looked on until he grew a little bored of staring and looked at a red engine, dozing next to him. The green engine rolled his eyes and groaned, then looked back at the red engine.
"PEEEEEEP PEEEEEEEEP!!!"
The red engine jumped and his eyes shot up. "Wh-w-wha-wha?" he exclaimed.
"Wake up!" yelled Henry, "otherwise you'll be late."
"What on earth do you mean," replied James crossly, "I don't have a train for another hour."
"Clearly James," Henry informed snootily, "you haven't looked at the clock yet."
James glared and then turned his eyes towards the clock that held itself on the right side wall of the shed and his eyes widened. "God dammit!" he cried, "driver! Fireman!"
Both his crew members came running up, knowing what James meant Clambering in, James took off like a rocket. Henry chuckled as he followed suit. But he couldn't help but think of what happened last night.
Gordon did warn him and the others about the two diesels whilst at Vicarstown... one of them at least. The class 46 that was called D199 was awful. Calling their railway ugly and outdated. What was worse was that he threatened lives as well, even saying that he would make one of the steam engines smash into Tidmouth station. None of the engines took that nicely that night. Even the class 35 that was called D7170 had to shut him up with the help of Duck too. But what Henry noticed and probably the only one who noticed, was that when D199 came into the yards, and first saw James, his eyes flickered and he looked mad. Like, James had done something to him somehow. Whatever the case, James didn't look like he knew either, because he didn't falter at all when seeing D199.
It was odd. That was all.
Suddenly, Henry found himself bashing into his train. "Watch it you!" called a foreman.
"Looks like Henry is still trying to get used to only using one tender again!" yelled a truck and the others laughed.
"Shut up!" Henry ordered, and he biffed them again. That shut them up and the green engine began to leave the yards, his strong, loud puffing was heard across the yard as he pulled away with his trucks rolling behind. He puffed past the big station, still grand and tall with the canopy glistening in the morning sun. As he rumbled over the junction in front of the station and onto the mainline, he began to pick up the pace. Faster and faster he went, and soon he was thundering along the mainline with wheels being like blurs. His steam puffed out of his funnel like little white balls. He steamed up Gordon's hill and at such a pace anyone wouldn't blame you if you'd see Henry take off into the air at the top. Henry thundered through Maron station. Eventually he rushed past Kellsthorpe Road, but as he did he felt something wrong with him.
"Ohhhh," he groaned, "I've got such a pain."
The driver looked all over his controls. "It's your regulator Henry!" he called, and slammed on Henry's brakes. The green engine groaned again as he felt his back buffers slam against the trucks. It took a while, but Henry managed to stop the train right in front of Crovan's Gate.
"Bother," groaned Henry, wheeshing steam from his pistons with a tint of annoyance.
His driver looked all over him to see whether he had more damage. Luckily he found none. "Just your regulator Henry," he finally said, "but you won't be able to pull this train all the way to Vicarstown."
"Could you be able to fix the regulator?" asked the fireman from the cab.
"I think I can," the driver responded, "but we'd need to take Henry back to Tidmouth... tender first."
"T-tender first?" spluttered Henry, "but they all will laugh at me again!"
"I'm sorry Henry," said the driver sympathetically, "but it's the quickest way to get you back up and running. Besides, your regulator isn't fully broken, just a few tweaks here and there and you'll be running perfectly again!"
Henry groaned once more. "All right, all right," said Henry grudgingly, "let's go."
It was a few more minutes. But the driver managed to force Henry off the line he was on. The Norramby branch diesel then came and took over the train and the green engine was soon puffing down the down line, tender first. Henry groaned and complained whilst going along the mainline. His driver managed to shut him up right when they reached Kellsthorpe Road, Henry begged Eagle the Midland Engine wasn't there. Luckily for Henry, he was at the other end of his branch line and the big green engine puffed through the station trying to be as quiet as possible. Another mile down the line, Henry came to a section of straight track, but at the end of the section was a set of points that led onto a third track for a short distance until it reaches Killdane station and right after the points was a crossing. But as Henry came towards the crossing, he began to hear the sounds of honking horns and shouting.
"What on earth is going on back there?" he demanded.
The driver heard it too and looked out of the cab from the controls. "Well I never," he said and applied Henry's brakes.
"What's going on?!" cried Henry as he began to slow down. He soon got his answer as he came to a stop right next to a very familiar class 46 diesel engine. D199 sat sulkily on the line, broken down and a train full of laughing tar tankers. Henry stared at the diesel who was still looking straight ahead.
"Hello?" Henry said, unsure what to do. He soon did, as a middle aged signalman came out of his box waving his arms about.
"For pity's sake take this spamcan away; it's failed. The Limitedis behind and all he does is wail for his fitter!" he cried out.
D199's eyes darted from looking straight on, to looking up at the red-face signalman. "Spamcan?!" he fumed, "I'm-"
"Stow it!" snapped the signalman, "or I'll take my tin opener to you!"
"Might as well try," sighed the driver, and carefully pulled the control lever on. "We'll move the diesel and his train onto the third line then!" he called to the signalman.
The signalman only grunted a response and strode back into his box. Henry banged into the humiliated diesel. "Whoops!" he mused, "sorry, failed engine. But not as much as you!"
D199 growled. "You piece of vermin," he spat.
"That's not how you treat your hero," continued Henry as he began to heave the heavy diesel and his troublesome tar tankers. It would've been easier, if the diesel wasn't so heavy and his regulator was working properly. But with the help of his control lever, Henry managed to pull the entire train off the crossing. The cars and lorries looked relieved to see the train leave only to be dismayed as the train reversed over the points and onto the third piece of track. Henry never felt so awkward at that moment of time. He made sure he was fully off the crossing. By the time he stopped, the signalman had just allowed the Limited to come through. Henry could hear the prowling of diesel come rolling along. Boco was working on Edward's branch line at the moment and Daisy was well... Daisy. It could only be one diesel.
D7170 rumbled through with his loaded passenger train. Henry chuckled lightly. "Look there Spamcan," he jeered, using the nickname the signalman had given him, "there's your old pal!"
D199 looked the other way, hoping that D7170 hadn't noticed. Luckily for him, the Hymek hadn't noticed. He was having problems of his own. Injectors weren't entirely needed until 1951, when British Railways brought in the Mk1 carriages. They were faceless, meaning that the engine had to have full control over the train with the Mk1 not capable of putting their brakes on by themselves. The Fat Controller had decided that a few Mr1 would come into their service in 1962, some engines didn't like them such as Gordon and Henry, whilst Boco and surprisingly James didn't mind a bit. The injector would make sure that the brakes didn't go on, but D7170's injector had failed whilst going through Maron station. He didn't notice at first, but when going through Cronk, he felt a slight drag from his coaches. Light at first, then harder and harder. Until now, he could barely get his coaches to move at all, he was about to go along the corner, until the coaches' fully went on and D7170's wheels slipped along the rails. He came to skidding stop, tired and very embarrassed.
Henry grinned. "Two diesels on trial, fail on the same day," he said calmly, then he chuckled, "and I thought they'd be laughing at me!"
Spamcan rolled his eyes from behind, but Henry's driver pondered, his fingers on his chin and staring on at D7170's train. "If we could move both D199 and D7170 and their trains to their destinations," he suggested, but the fireman cut him off.
"A failed engine pulling an express train a train of tankers and two dead diesels?" he remarked, "I don't think that's possible!"
"Well it's either that," said the driver, "or the mainline would be getting a lot of delays with two blocked tracks and the Fat Controller won't be too pleased about getting dozens of letters for the next few days."
"It's up for Henry to decide," replied the driver. Both crews and the signalman looked at Henry. "Well..." pondered Henry, "may as well try."
"That's the spirit old boy," grinned the driver, the fireman only sighed and followed the other crew member back into the cab. Henry huffed as he began to move D199 and his train. "Get moving you! Get moving you!"
D199 growled viciously, purposely trying to not move at all. Henry heaved and groaned until he finally buffered up behind the D7170's train. Red in the face and panting crossly. D199 smirked. "Can't even pull me without getting worn out!" he taunted, "how on earth-"
"At least... I didn't... fail moving a train of tankers," gasped Henry, "I have to pull... your fat body... as well. Take you off... and I might as well go tender first."
D199 growled once more. He wasn't going to make this easy. Whilst Henry's fireman couple the big green engine onto the other train. D7170's driver came down and talked to Henry's, so did D199's. After discussing the situation, all crew members went back to their engines to tell them the plan.
"D7170 can help with pulling the train," informed the driver to Henry, "if we use your injector to help keep the brakes off on the coaches he'll be able to help pull the trains as well."
"Thank goodness for that," replied a relieved Henry.
"Plus D199's driver will make sure that his engine will keep his brakes off so it'll be more easier for us," added the driver, "you just focus on pulling and pushing the trains along."
"Yes sir," said Henry. A minute later, the green engine blew his whistle loud and clear. "You ready?!"
D7170 honked back. "Yes I am! I am!"
Henry gathered his steam. His driver checked the injector and control lever and with a huge push, Henry began to move the trains. D7170 began too. With Henry both keeping the brakes off and pulling Spamcan and his train, and D7170 pulling his train as well, the slow cavalry set off to Crovan's Gate.
It was hard work, multitasking on different trains whilst being a failed engine as well. But Henry kept on going with the growling of D7170 being heard at the front and the complaining and discouragement of Spamcan at the back. They rolled past Kellsthorpe Road, Eagle having just entered the yard in disbelief.
"What on god's name..." he trailed off, as he watched them disappear from view. Henry and D7170 kept on going. Huffing and growling.
Until finally, with a last stitching effort. D7170 pulled into Crovan's Gate station with Henry's driver allowing the coaches' brakes to fully jam on and help brake the train to a stop. With D7170 just exiting the platform and Henry just entering it himself, whilst D199, albeit now known as Spamcan and his train of tar tankers laid silently outside the station. Donald and Scott were called from Vicarstown to take the trains on and blasted their whistles loudly as they saw the cavalry come into view.
"Good show Henry!" called Scott.
"Och aye!" agreed Donald, "ya show them diasels a think or tae!"
The passengers all swarmed out of the carriages like angry bees and went skirmishing for the nearest staff member. They were about to go to the stationmaster, when a guard's whistle was heard. Everyone turned to see a well-dressed stout gentleman with a plumb body on a trolley with a microphone in one hand and the guard's whistle he had just blown. Everybody knew he was instantly and immediately fell silently. "Ladies and gentlemen," announced the Fat Controller, with his mouth pressed against the microphone, "I understand that you all are displeased with this delay and I apologise on behalf of the railway. But you must understand that if it weren't for my number three, mostly widely known as Henry, you would all be further delayed and probably would still be stuck where you were before!"
The passengers instantly forgot to be cross and went to Henry and began to praise him.
"You're an enterprising engine!" they all chimed. Henry blushed.
Whilst all the attention was going on. The Fat Controller ordered that Scott would remove D7170 off the Limited and take the train over whilst Donald to move Henry, D199 and the train of tar tankers off away from the Limited. When Scott returned to buffer up to the train, all eyes flickered to the engine with two corridor tenders. Nobody was expecting The Flying Scotsman to take over and were delighted. The railway staff had a harder time getting the passengers back in then controlling their angry yells minutes earlier. Scott left with a triumphant whistle being heard from all distances. Soon Donald was seen bringing back with D199 and his train, he came to a stop where Scott had stood with the Limited.
"I understand I would be takin' this train sirr," he said, "but Spamcan tae?"
"Indeed," nodded the Fat Controller, "he has caused too much disruption on my railway ever since he got here. I won't be having him repaired here, he shall go back to the mainland."
"Aye sirr," snickered Donald, "I'll make sure this ol' Spamcan gits ta the mainland."
"Spamcan?"
"Aye sirr, that's what Henry calls him! Might as make tha name stick!"
The Fat Controller sighed, but couldn't help but smile as Donald pulled the diesel and the train away. He then ordered to call the Tidmouth station to get his papers for reviewing D199's performance and then told Henry to take D7170 back to Tidmouth with him. Henry obliged and was soon puffing back down the line. The driver in control and his reverser being the only one to make Henry move.
D7170 was still very embarrassed. "I am sorry about all of this," he said.
"Don't worry about it," replied Henry, "it's not like an engine as never failed."
"I know but it was on my second day on trial," sighed D7170.
Henry scoffed. "If you did fail you would've failed the trials! I mean your friend Spamcan did."
"He isn't my friend," replied D7170, "he was just an engine that came from a different part of the mainland. We only met five days ago. He was nice on the first day, but when he began to show his opinions to you steam engines. Well..."
He trailed off. Henry said nothing either, just continued on.
*
It would be another day until D7170 was put back into service. Henry was fixed an hour after they returned to the big station. He was told he would be given a second chance by the Fat Controller. But he still felt a bit worried. After all, the steam engines had mostly been so nice to him. Mostly. But D7170 had thought about what Duck had said to him on his second day. He would need to gain the engine's trust. But he would need the advice of another.
Another, who had gained their trust before.
A/N: Hi all! Sorry for the long wait for content. Life is changing for me at the moment and I hope you understand and the trilogy that I was going to write about after the original book I didn't like that I just decided to redevelop the entire thing. But I didn't want you guys to wait any longer so have this instead. Thank you so much for reading this and hopefully you understand. The trilogy will come out eventually and I hope it'll be worth it.