SABOTAGE

Brutus' repairs were only minor. He had suffered from some dented metal- work and scratched paint. It took only a few days for his driver and conductor to get the repairs done in time. The night they completed the work, heavy rain poured down, the sky grey and dark as the grumbling bus' mood.

"I shall never be the same bus again!", he moaned loudly in complaint, "Pushed off the road...by a railway engine! The shame of it!"

"Don't tell me your giving up!", snapped the driver, "Sure, we may have come out with a few scars, but guess what we found out yesterday?"

"That old tea-pot was punished by his manager", continued the conductor, "That's progress isn't it?"

Brutus smirked - "That'll teach him to push me! But with him out of the way, that still leaves the other one! And nobody wants to ride with us anymore!...They think I'm too dangerous", he added with a dark tone to his voice.

"Well then", said the driver, "What we need is a plan"

"A plan to prove once and for all", agreed the conductor, "That it's safer by road!"

There was a moment of silence, and no sooner had the driver clicked his fingers with a malicious grin, a familiar chugging sounded in the distance, as George the Steam Roller slowly came into view. He rolled into the yard, the rain pouring down his boiler. Brutus' driver and conductor quickly thrust the shed doors open to invite him in. He was grumbling loudly as he came to a hissing stop beside Brutus. His driver jumped down, his face almost identical to that his steam-roller.

"I've had it up to hear with that railway!", he fumed, placing a hand on George's front-roller to support himself, "First they put the blame on us for trying to race with that...that..."

"Imitation steam-roller!", George mumbled hotly, remembering his run-in with Sir Handle.

"That's the one!", his driver continued, "And now, they have the cheek to push my engine into a ditch. Look at the damage!"

George was far too furious to speak, yet the damage to his front roller was beyond repair since the incident. It would take a lot of smoldering work.

"Well then", smiled Brutus, "Why don't you help us with our plan?"

"You mean", George spluttered, "Get our own back?"

"Exactly", said the bus driver, and he coaxed the two men into a tight group talk. The baneful bus and the spiteful steam roller listened with delight. Once he had finished speaking, their grins were almost identical - "We'll do it tonight!"

*

Oliver banged furiously about the yard, sending unloaded trucks screaming helplessly into sidings, their precious load of ballast spilling out onto the ground. Sir Topham Hatt had spoken to him several nights before, and he was certain that he would not forget a word of the speech that he received. His punishment was to 'pilot' the goods yard near the Small Railway, where ballast comes in to be loaded and unloaded. The manager knew that it would be a punishment fit for Oliver, as he had always hated ballast trucks since his accident with the turn-table well. The heavy rain had passed, leaving the sky a thick and gloomy grey.

"This isn't fair at all!", he yelled, as he bumped a second line of trucks into a siding, "How could the Fat Controller take the sides of a bus and a steam-roller?"

"Maybe it wasn't the best of ideas to shove them both into a ditch", said his driver warningly, "Come on Oliver. That was a little too rough don't you think?"

"That Brutus broke down on purpose to try and make me late!", Oliver burst out, "I saw him laughing at me. I thought he would be up to no-good from the beginning".

"Don't you think he has a point there Derek?", whispered the fireman, "You know what those two were like".

The driver nodded gravely - "I see what you mean", he replied, "But still..." - They whispered discreetly as Oliver continued to grumble loudly, banging the trucks as he marshaled several 'empties' together. They nodded in agreement and backed him up towards the chute to be loaded. Once the loading began, they climbed down from the cab and took a seat on Oliver's front buffer-beams. For you see, Derek and Colin (Oliver's driver and fireman) are a pair who know what is best for their engine.

"If the truth must to be revealed", said Colin, the fireman, "The two of us when to school with Brutus' driver and conductor. That's why we knew they names, and they knew ours. Their names are Earl and Eddie. We never used to get along at all".

"Why?", asked Oliver, "Where they just as arrogant and stuck-up as Brutus?"

"They were always anti-rail", continued Derek, the driver, "And as we had always wanted to work for Sir Topham Hatt's Railway, they would constantly put us down. I remember they used to say things like 'It'll be ripped up by the time you graduate'".

Oliver shuddered - "Of course", continued Colin, "That wasn't true, and still isn't today. But no doubt those two will hold a grudge against us, especially after that 'Steam Duel'".

Oliver was beginning to question his own behaviour. He felt sorry for his driver and fireman. He didn't want to put them in trouble as well. But before they could do anything else, Rex bustled in and came to a stop beside Oliver, his train loaded with ballast.

"It's good your here", he panted - the heavy train had clearly been a problem for him, "We've been waiting for a pilot for quite some time?"

"Why?", asked Oliver.

"A large-scale load of ballast is required for the monthly line-maintenance check next week", Rex explained, "They said they would send Duck to help, but he's busy on the Mainline. Could you arrange the trucks for us?"

Oliver hated the extra work, but he couldn't argue. The Fat Controller had given the Small Controller strict instructions to watch over him as he 'served his time'. For the rest of the day, he set about collecting 'empties' and taking them to the chute, and all the while, the Small Railway Engines were kept busy bringing in the ballast to be loaded into the empty trucks. Oliver then had to take them away and arrange them onto a siding for Douglas to pull away the next mourning. And as you know, ballast trucks are never an easy task, for by the time Oliver was finished, night was drawing on and the five little engines were tucked away in their shed comfortably.

"Can I go home now?", he asked the night-watchman anxiously. It was getting cold and dark, as the nightly mists rolled in from the sea.

"I'm sorry Oliver", he said, "But the Fat Controller says you must stay here until Douglas arrives tomorrow morning to take the ballast".

Oliver fumed crossly as Derek and Colin backed him into a cozy siding out of the way - "Don't worry fella", they said warmly, "We'll be back as early as we can tomorrow to get you in steam".

And before long, they were out of sight and had caught James' last train back to Knapford. Oliver didn't like sleeping outside during the night. It was cold, and he was growing more and more anxious by the minute. He could see Brutus and George in his mind, sitting in their warm sheds and laughing at him - "This is all their fault", he hissed to himself, "And those two driver and fireman were talking about". He remembered what his crew had told him earlier that day - "I'd do anything to get back at them for upsetting my crew. Why, I'd even leave my own rails to duel with Brutus..."

But before his thoughts could carry him any further, Oliver found himself drifting off to sleep...

He was being loaded onto a flat-truck. A transit-label had been placed on his boiler, reading 'Property of the Sodor Transport Museum Society'.

Duck, Donald, Douglas, Toad and his dear coaches, Isabel and Dulcie sat on the line nearby, watching with solemn faces as he was secured down with strong chains. He wanted to speak, but his funnel was wrapped in a cloth, his coupling rods taken away and his firebox empty. He tried whistling, but that was no good either.

Suddenly, the low-loader bust into life and with a loud blast of it's horn, it set off out of the yard. And as they pulled away, Oliver caught a glimpse of Brutus, standing beside the road with a large banner across his side reading 'Railway Bus', and all the passengers were climbing aboard with impressed expressions on their faces.

*

Oliver woke with a sudden start and looked frantically around. He sighed with relief to find that his wheels were still firmly on the rails, his coupling rods were in place, his funnel wasn't wrapped in cloth and his firebox still littered with ashes.

"Oh dear", he thought, "What am I going to do now?"

But suddenly, from somewhere up ahead, he caught the sound of a distant chugging sound, noisy and smokey. He couldn't see further then the chute on the opposite side of the yard. He tried to turn on his head-lamps, but it was no good. He needed his driver and fireman to do that - "How odd", he thought, "There aren't any trains schedules for this hour".

Then a possibility came to him - "Maybe it's Rex, or even Mike coming in late" - But then he realized. He had been in the yard all day, and so had Rex and Mike. He had even seen them back in into their shed several hours earlier. Within minutes, he began to panic. Before he could call for help, something else caught his attention.

Just beyond the chute was the siding where he had arranged the vital load for Douglas. He was most certain that the trucks were there before he went to sleep, but now, they were not! The siding was empty, and not a single truck could be seen!

"HORRORS!", cried Oliver, and in a state of alarm, sounded his whistle loudly. It echoed all around the yard. The lights of the little railway shed came on and the night-watchman came running over to the siding from his hut as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Whatever is the matter Oliver?", he asked, holding up a lamp, a scarf wrapped around his neck to keep himself warm in the bitter cold, "You'll wake the whole yard with that noise!"

"The trucks!", Oliver cried, "They're gone!"

The night-watchman turned and disappeared into the darkness. All the while, fear began to take over Oliver's tubes, as he felt his wheels shaking below him - "If something has happened", he thought, "The Fat Controller will surely send me away for good".

The night-watchman returned moments later, and came running over to Oliver, panting loudly. He jumped into the cab before even explaining himself - "They're been a runaway!", he panted, "Those trucks have just rolled clear out of the yard. We must go after them at once!"

Oliver gasped and wasted no time at all, as the night-watchman took off his hand brake and he steamed, out of the yard and down the line, gradually gathering speed.

"How could this happen?", he asked himself as he steamed ahead, the night- watchman peering out of cab anxiously as he went, "There are no other engines around, or so I can remember. But the brakes on those trucks were hard on. It would take a lot of strength to move them".

Suddenly, a distant sound of screaming trucks came clear up-ahead. Sure enough, as Oliver steamed on, the last of the long train of heavy ballast trucks came into view. They were rocking and swaying frantically, their wheels spinning uncontrollably. Their brakes had been snapped, almost forcefully. They had reached a downhill descent, which was increasing their speed dangerously. They screamed in fright as they continued to coast down the decent.

"There they are!", cried the night watchman from the cab, "If you can get them under your control, everything will be fine! Do you think you can do it Oliver?"

"I'll have to try my best", replied the determined Great Western Engine, and with every ounce of steam he had left, he seiged forwards, trying his very best to keep up with the trucks, his own speed increasing dangerously.

Being a strong engine, he was able to speed ahead with ease, and his sanding gear allowed him to grip the rails firmly. All the while, the night- watchman checked his gauges and shoveled coal onto the fire. He had worked with Oliver before, and he was good friends with Derek and Colin. Within minutes, Oliver had the trucks under his control, as he buffered up to the last truck with a mighty CLANG!

"Get' em!", he called.

All that was left to do now was to bring them to a final stop. But this was a harder task then Oliver had expected. The heavy load of ballast was difficult to keep under control, and it spilt in large portions over the sides of the trucks.

"Danger! Danger!", screamed the trucks, as they dragged Oliver up the small hill. Oliver shut his eyes and took a deep breath as he applied his emergency brake, the night watchman keeping control at all times. But the weight was far too much.

"Another few yards and we'll have em'", he called from the cab.

But they had just reached the hill when it happened.

Oliver knew that he had to keep his concentration on the trucks and bringing them to stop in time. But no sooner had he reached the peak of the hill, the front four trucks already starting to coast down the other side, a distant chugging sound caught his attention. It was the same sound he had heard back in the yard. But this was a bad mistake.

The coupling tightened...strained...and with a loud SNAP! , the front four trucks broke away completely from the train. They coasted down the hill at an alarming rate, screaming, swinging and swaying all the way, the ballast spilling everything - "We've broken away! We've broken away!". Oliver shut his eyes, as with a mighty jerk, the heavy trucks jumped the sharp curve at the bottom of the hill, and ploughed through the wooden fence beside the line. There was a mighty SPLASH! ...and then silence. Oliver opened his eyes once again, to find the runaway trucks resting deep in a dirty pond. The ballast had sunk, and so had his heart.

"Oh dear", he sighed, "Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear!"

The night-watchman was speechless, and wasted no time, as he turned back instantly and ran for the yard to telephone for help. All the while, Oliver could only stare at the sunken trucks at the foot of the hill and the terrible mess that they had left behind.

*

Duck arrived as quickly as he could the next morning with the break-down train. The trucks were salvaged, but the ballast was lost. Sir Topham Hatt had come to watch the operation as Oliver stood back beside Duck - "I don't understand it", he whimpered, "One minute they were they, the next they were...gone!"

"You tried your best to save them", soothed Duck, "Besides, it wasn't your fault. The Fat Controller will see that".

But Duck was wrong, and Oliver wished he hadn't been. The Fat Controller spun around, his face alive with anger, a stern finger pointed directly at Oliver - "That was your final chance to redeem yourself Oliver", he said, his voice booming all around, "But it seems that you can't handle such tasks. Now the Small Railway will need to work twice as hard to recover the ballast that you lost last night"

"But sir!", Oliver spluttered, "It wasn't my fault!"

"You were the only engine in the yard at the time", the Fat Controller boomed, "You were responsible for those trucks, and now you shall face the consequences for this accident. You are to go to Thomas' Branch Line and assist at the Quarry until I can trust you to behave here".

Oliver didn't reply. Derek and Colin climbed into his cab, exchanging worried looks, and with one final toot of his whistle, Oliver steamed sadly away, a tear slowly rolling down his cheek. Duck watched him disappear, deep in thought and anxiety.

*****