Duncan hadn't muttered a word since being loaded on the ship. He had simply sat completely still, almost expressionless. He should have been happy, but he hadn't smiled once. The sounds of gentle waves lapping against the boat was all Duncan heard, not hearing the words of workmen or cries of gulls; they all sounded quiet and distant to him. He kept his gaze locked on the deck in front of him, only occasionally glancing up at a passing worker. A few of them even commented on how quiet and emotionless the little engine had been for the entire trip, and how strange it was. Duncan didn't respond.
It was cold when the ship arrived at the docks, and a gentle drizzle fell from the clouds, sliding down the wooden dock and dripping into the sea. The shouts of dockyard workers sounded, and Duncan was soon unchained and off the boat. The dockyard manager was the first to speak to Duncan directly.
"Nice to meet you, Duncan. Welcome to Sodor." He said. Duncan mumbled something so incoherent that it hardly qualified as a response. "You're headed off to the Skarloey line, just back that way." The dockyard manager explained, turning and pointing behind him. "Mr. Percival will be waiting for you there; you can't miss him."
Duncan grunted a response, and steam billowed from his cylinders as he started off. He was observant to every detail around him, taking in the atmosphere around him to get his bearings. The bustling energy and strong salt odor of the docks quickly shifted into calmer open spaces and cool fresh air. It was actually very relaxing, Duncan had to admit, and soothed some of his anxieties about how this day would go. He soon reached a station, where a tall, thin man in a suit was waiting for him.
Well, that ought to be him I suppose, Duncan thought to himself, as he slowly glided to a stop. The tall thin man, who Duncan now knew as Mr. Percival pushed his glasses up his face and nodded.
"Ah, yes, you must be Duncan, am I correct?" Mr. Percival asked.
"Yes, Sir." Duncan answered, barely looking him in the eyes. "That's me."
"Right then. You've come to help sort out some difficulties and lighten the workload some. It's been a bit hectic around here, as one of our engines has recently been in an accident. Thankfully he's fine, but we need another engine like you to get things back on track and keep them there." Mr. Percival explained, pacing back in forth a little as he spoke. "Now, I suppose we'd best set you up with a driver then." Duncan was a little alarmed. His wheels shook a little.
"A-A driver, Sir…?" Duncan stuttered, his voice quavering a little.
"Well, of course," Mr. Percival responded, turning back to look at Duncan. He himself looked alarmed at how pale Duncan appeared. "What's the matter? You look as if you've seen a ghost!"
"I-I…" Duncan felt great shame wash over him, and tried to find a way to explain himself. "…have never been driven by a driver before," He finished, feeling pathetic as he said it. He looked up at Mr. Percival, expecting him to be angry, but he instead just appeared very surprised and equally confused
"You've never been driven by a driver before…" Mr. Percival repeated, seemingly trying to figure this all out in his head. "That's…odd, to say the very least. They didn't mention that in your paperwork. Well, then again, they didn't really mention anything in your paperwork."
Duncan wasn't surprised, his old railway had never really bothered to fill out any of their paperwork. Not to mention, as he and the other engines there had been bought quick and cheap, most of them didn't even retain their original paperwork.
Mr. Percival continued, "I suppose the first thing on our itinerary is to get you your driver and teach you how to be driven by one, then. Right, go introduce yourself to the others Duncan. I'll tell you when I'm ready for you."
Duncan nodded, "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
And so, Duncan headed off to meet the new engines on his railway. This was arguably the part of his new railway he was looking forward to the least. Being completely relocated in a new country on a new railway was a concerning enough aspect for him, but Duncan knew meeting these new engines was going to be a nightmare. He'd learned long ago never to get attached to someone, as being close to someone only made it hurt that much more when they suffered. And besides, what if these new engines were judgmental? Their glares echoing into his core as they made tiny mental notes about everything they saw when they looked at him. He feared they'd see the scar on his smokebox, and whisper about it amongst themselves, wondering what he could've done that was bad enough to deserve such treatment. Just thinking about it made the water in Duncan's boiler run cold, and he gulped, trying to ignore his thoughts as they spiraled darker and darker.
Just then, as Duncan had just begun to ignore himself, he looked up and felt like stone on the spot. Rolling down another line, not far away, was one of the new engines on his railway, and he was a diesel. Duncan was immedietly gripped with distrust and paranoia, and knew he couldn't let this diesel see him. Diesels like this new engine had been a big problem for steam engines like him back in Scotland. With so many diesels being introduced at once, and the luxurious promise that they were the stepping stones into the future, every railway desperately wanted one, and quickly lost interest in steam engines. That was how Duncan had gotten his job at the factory in the first place. He was intended to be a goods engine on another railway, but his slot had instead been filled with a diesel. Having no use for steam engines anymore, railways were simply selling them off for ridiculously cheap, and the factory had jumped at this deal, and bought a large number of them, including Duncan. Seeing that this new engine himself was a diesel engine resurfaced a lot of feelings that Duncan had long since tried to forget about and pushed deep inside of him, and he shuddered uncomfortably, trying to swallow down his own emotions.
It was at this point the diesel engine, who happened to be Rusty, had noticed the newcomer. Rusty was genuinely rather concerned to see that the newcomer looked, not excited as Rusty had expected, but uncomfortable and sickly looking, like he was about to throw up. Rusty, although a little worried, smiled at the engine, giving him a warm greeting.
"Oh, hello! I'm Rusty! You must be the new engine! Nice to meet you!" Rusty smiled. The new engine almost jumped at Rusty's words. The new engine then seemed to glare at him, and sped off without a word. Rusty was taken very aback, and almost offended, but tried to explain it rationally. "I'm sure he didn't glare at me; I probably just startled him. And he surely didn't respond because he's probably just shy." Rusty reasoned. Rusty smiled and nodded, "That must've been why he looked so pale and sickly too, he's just nervous." Satisfied with his explanation, Rusty kept rumbling along the line, trying to brush off this odd encounter with the newcomer. But, in the back of his mind, he was still a little worried. He'd never seen someone react so violently to something so small, and it honestly made him wonder if it was just being nervous that had caused it. Rusty sighed and tried not to think about it. Right now he'd just try to be nice to the new engine, and figure out anything he still had questions about later.