FOREIGN EXCHANGE
Chapter Five - Behind The Iron Curtain
The week that the Berlin Friendship Tour spent in Berlin proper was one of the happiest of Lammergeier's life. He was welcomed wherever he went during his scheduled short day trips and stops, and showered with attention and admiration from every railroader and local fan who came to see him. If what he himself saw and experienced was stirring up any bad memories or any resentments he might have still harboured towards humans, they remained well-hidden. No one but his crewmen and owner knew that the big red 48 had so recently battled a host of internal demons which had come close to overwhelming him and ending his life. All he continued to show of himself was his professional side, a handsome locomotive who served his masters with distinction and well, his manner attentive and biddable, his personality uncommonly charming yet also a wee bit mischievous on occasion, as befitted a true Berliner. In short, Lammergeier was a hit, and he seemed to relish his popularity.
His human friends had a great time too. Their hosts made sure that the Sudrians got to sample all the things which made Berlin unique and tried to cater to any special requests they had whenever they weren't busy with any official tour duties. Gradually, as the days passed, they got to do it all. Ate all sorts of wonderful local dishes and drank a huge array of splendid (and often potent) drinks. Visited the vast greenbelt area of the Grunewald to decompress and saw Berlin's original famous Zoological Garden, which had managed to survive even the worst years of the War despite all expectations. They even drove up to Spandau one afternoon, just to gawk at the prison building where the crazy Nazi, Rudolf Hess, was serving out his life sentence. Sir Topham still remembered some of the media coverage of Hess's flight to Scotland and his capture there. The German's insistence that he was on a peace mission hadn't saved him then, nor had it saved him at the Nuremberg trials, hence Spandau.
One of the more unusual things the visitors got to do was fulfill Christophe's desire to see the gravesite of the Red Baron, a historical figure he'd always admired and had something of a boyish crush on for most of his life. Denise liked the idea of paying her respects too, and their Stasi rep (who'd become a bit sweet on the lone female member of his charges even though he knew she was married) was good enough to run them over to the Invalidenfriedhof where the famous flying ace's remains were currently interred. There, both foreigners gawked in awe at the great grey, almost monolithic structure which served as a grave stone, its one face marked with but a single word: RICHTHOFEN. It wasn't quite what either had expected, yet it seemed fitting and grand.
After a short interval of silent contemplation, Christophe and Denise wandered about for a while to look at some of the other gravesites. A lot of heavy construction and earth-moving going on right up against the cemetery behind the Red Baron's stone also caught their eye. It looked as though some of the very slope of the hillside they were on was being taken away.
"What's going on there?" Denise asked. "Levelling the ground for some new structures?"
"Something like that," said the Stasi man, and the other two took the hint and let the matter drop. Their East German escort was glad. There was no way he could have told them the truth, that the land next to the Invalidenfriedhof would in part eventually become a minefield augmenting the Berlin Wall to come.
After their little adventure, the trio drove back into the city center and hooked up with the remainder of their usual party at Café Kranzler, one of Berlin's best known downtown coffee houses. Everyone present was already seated outdoors, working their way through their second cups of coffee and some truly delectable pastries. Sir Topham Hatt was perhaps the most enthusiastic participant in this new business of experiencing a typical afternoon kaffeeklatsch. He'd already downed three different slices of cake by the time the newcomers pulled up a few more seats to join in and was still looking to try "just a bit" of everything else being brought to their tables.
Denise also wound up playing a part in one of Mister Moderhack's special little indulgences. He wanted to borrow Lammergeier for a few hours to visit a nearby university which taught engineering design, including that of locomotives, and had gotten permission to go over on his own if he could rustle up a suitable crew. The old Controller had already arranged for an East German fireman, but needed a driver. Would Denise be interested? he asked her. Of course the woman was more than happy to accommodate her elderly friend and was soon pulling out the working uniform she'd packed with especial glee, pleased as punch at the prospect of actually driving Lammergeier on German rails, even if just for a little while.
Lammergeier's fireman for the special trip was already hard at work when Denise and Mister Moderhack eventually met up again at the station and climbed aboard, an old lean guy who looked like he'd been tending fireboxes and shoveling coal for about a hundred years already. He merely grunted when Mister Moderhack made the introductions, then kept looking around for someone else to join them. When it finally dawned on him that Denise was the driver, he stared at her as if a unicorn had suddenly been dropped into the engine cab, then immersed himself in his job and tried not to gawk at her anymore. Aside from warning the man that Lammergeier burned extra hot when running at speed, Denise didn't say much to her fireman. He clearly knew his business and seemed uncomfortable. It wasn't until they were well underway and the woman had driven Lammergeier through a whole nest of points and smoothly bumped him up into a nice swift cruising pace that he could look at her again without appearing apprehensive.
The old Controller, on the other hand, was in a wonderful mood. He chatted happily with his female companion almost nonstop and accepted a brief stint at driving Lammergeier on a quiet stretch, even though his background was that of an engineer and not a former driver. Their chitchat relaxed the fireman too, enough so that he eventually joined the conversation.
"How's your husband feel about you driving locomotives?" he asked of Denise at one point, eyeing the wedding band on her hand. She exchanged a quick secret grin with Mister Moderhack.
"He's fine with it, I hope, given that he usually works as my fireman."
"Oh! So you, like, come as a pair."
"Yup. It's either both of us as a full crew or neither of us."
"I guess that'd be all right then," the fireman proclaimed and turned back to his shovelling.
When they got to the university grounds, Mister Moderhack directed them onto a line that branched off the main tracks and eventually looped behind some huge out-buildings and into a proper little railway yard. The university, it turned out, had its own locomotive workshop where the engineering students were learning their trade in a most practical way. Half-finished or partially dismantled engines sat everywhere, most of them diesels or electrics, but there were a few steamers mixed in with all the other projects. Lammergeier pulled up at one of the working platforms with a blast from his whistle and a fine wheesh of steam. There were a lot of students and a sprinkling of teachers and officials already waiting for him, some of whom had to step back to avoid being drenched.
Denise quickly found out why the old Controller had specifically wanted her to come along. Mister Moderhack revealed himself to be something of a patron for the university and he wanted three of the junior students in particular to meet the visiting engine's driver. It wasn't a huge shock when she additionally discovered that the three students he'd picked out were the only females on campus who were studying locomotive design.
The three young women were far more surprised than was Denise and said as much.
"We've never met a woman who drove locomotives," one of them admitted. "Is this…common where you come from?"
"Not really, but it suits me. I've always loved engines, especially steam engines."
She paused to glance over at the other students and faculty members, who were concentrating on Lammergeier's undercarriage and what they could access via his cab. The 48 might have been old-fashioned by modern standards, yet he still carried some features which had been considered innovative in their day. She was surprised to see that no one was really paying attention to Lammergeier himself. It was the chance to examine his build which was absorbing everyone's attention.
A few more exchanges with the female students uncovered the further rather astonishing (in Denise's opinion) fact that despite all their technical knowhow, not a one of the trio had ever had any practical, hands-on interaction with an actual living locomotive before. Denise was quick to extend an invitation to them to climb onto Lammergeier's running board with her in order to start rectifying this huge omission. It was also the only space currently left where they had a hope of getting really close to him anyway, so up the four of them went.
As expected, Lammergeier's visitors were a touch intimidated at first by being so close to his big face with its keen, eerily alive machine eyes that watched their every move, but lost their apprehension fast beneath a wave of fascinated curiosity. "Oh, I didn't realize he was so handsome!" one of them exclaimed before their mutual greetings were even done. "Was he made like this? To look like this?"
"No one really knows why they turn out looking like they do," Denise said. "But it's definitely not something controlled by human design." She paused to stroke the engine's cheek, his soft, yielding cheek. He was clearly in a good mood and very approachable. "Our best guess is that it might have something to do with human expectation," she went on. "Still, no one really knows for sure. It's always a surprise, how they turn out. Isn't it, Lammergeier?"
"Yes. I think you humans wanted me and my brothers to look like something Wagnerian."
The woman who'd said he was handsome snapped her fingers. "That's it!" she exclaimed. "He looks like Siegfried! That character from that opera. I saw a poster for it once and the drawing looked just like him…well, a human version of him." She paused to look the engine over again, now smiling broadly. "And you really are a hero, just like the Siegfried character. That's a very…interesting coincidence."
"Isn't it, though? Do you want to pet him? It's a sort of amorphous alloy, what their faces are made of. Really fascinating stuff. Lammergeier won't mind. He likes the attention."
The three young women sidled closer and put their hands out eagerly. As expected, they quickly began expressing their amazement.
"Oh! It's like someone's real face, like flesh!"
"And warm! Is it always like this, even if it's very cold out?"
"Is that some sort of…superstructure I can feel underneath? Something almost skeletal?"
Denise grinned over their enthusiasm and answered their questions as best she could. Lammergeier was being so cooperative that she even encouraged the students to more closely examine his eyes, with their intriguing lens apertures which served the same function as human pupils and irises, and the interior of his mouth, with its arcs of hard white material that mimicked a set of teeth and his very organic-feeling tongue. The fact that his tongue was both warm and moist really seemed to get the women going.
"This has to be connected to his being a steam locomotive," one of them opined. "Or is it?"
"I don't think so," said Denise. "I know you're thinking about Lammergeier carrying water aboard, but as far as I know, diesels and other non-steam generating living engines have the same attributes. They can cry and I'm pretty sure they have damp mouths as well." She shrugged. "Maybe it's condensation taken directly from the water vapour in the air? What do you think, Lammergeier? Does anything ever give you a dry mouth?"
"No. It is always damp."
He put his tongue out to lick over his lower lip so they could all see the gleam of moisture left behind to prove it. He also made eye contact with Denise specifically while he did it and for a few horrible seconds, she just knew he was thinking about winking at her. But he managed to restrain himself, mercifully. Denise didn't know what she could have said had he gone ahead and winked and the students had noticed. Made up something about him being childish and naughty about having an excuse to stick his tongue out at them perhaps, which was certainly better than the women realizing that he had the capacity to think abstractly on an adult level.
When the trio next expressed their concern about Lammergeier's face incurring damage during his routine work, Denise again requested Lammergeier's cooperation in demonstrating how he could alter the surface texture of his face at will and explained about the safeguards which protected his alloy features and eyes alike. Again, there was plenty of petting and a lot more exclamations of surprise and admiration; Lammergeier was really selling the sheer wonder of the nature of living locomotives, Denise thought, rather proudly. When the women finally did climb down a short time later to rejoin the other students, she stayed behind a few extra minutes to praise her engine for having just behaved so very well.
"And thank you for keeping it together and not winking at me earlier," she added in conclusion, lowering her voice so only he could hear her. "That would not have been wise."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he murmured back, muting his own voice to a soft rumble, then went ahead and did it anyway—closed and opened one eye in that saucy gesture which only she, thank goodness, saw. She could have smacked him one. But still, no harm done, and perhaps he'd gotten it out of his system, she thought, at least for now. He certainly looked insufferably pleased with himself all of a sudden.
It took several more hours before everyone had had their fill of looking over the rare 48 and Lammergeier continued to behave perfectly throughout, even when a couple of the instructors opened up and had one of his cylinders partially dismantled for a while. The engine earned himself a rousing cheer when he did finally leave the university yard and even his fireman looked happy throughout the short journey back to Berlin and made a point of shaking Denise's hand before he left the cab at the end. "Looks like you won him over," Mister Moderhack remarked as he and the woman climbed down to the platform in turn, and Denise beamed with pleasure over how well their little working excursion had gone.
Later, after supper, she and Christophe took a nice leisurely walk together along the Kurfuerstendamm, strolling out and then back to their hotel. Denise knew that her friend was very interested in how Lammergeier had behaved himself at the university steamworks and she wanted to pass on a good report and make herself available for any questions he might have. He was quite thrilled when she detailed how good Lammergeier had been about allowing the students to examine his face in particular.
"That's excellent," the little engineer enthused. "It sounds like he's fully back to what he was always meant to be, still spirited and his own engine, yet completely docile when it comes to human interaction."
"Not that docile. He frigging winked at me after we were done looking at him. He hasn't done that for ages."
"Oh, even better! He must've been especially happy to have you driving him again."
Denise frowned. "Well, maybe. I just wish he'd find some other way to express it. It's inappropriate. We've got plenty of female engines around back home if he's feeling romantic or something."
"Heh, engines don't really experience romantic feelings. But they are aware of themselves as masculine or feminine to varying degrees, and Lammergeier thinks like an adult. Another engine isn't going to be able to satisfy him on an intellectual level, which leaves us humans as better prospective friends in some respects. I wish you'd cut him a little slack. I'm sure he just wants what he sees going on between you and Adi. You don't consider that relationship inappropriate…do you?"
The woman's frown deepened into a scowl. "Adler respects the boundaries," she maintained, in a tone which Christophe found amusingly prissy. "Lammergeier pushes it. He got you to give me those roses, for Pete's sake!"
"So? I thought it was very clever of him that he understood the meaning behind such a gesture. He just wanted to apologize to you. I keep telling you, dealing with him's like dealing with an adult man, except he's a locomotive. You can't get mad at him just for having adult behaviours and emotions. It would devastate him, to deny what he is now that he's finally revealed how intelligent he really is, at least to some of us."
Denise said nothing back, although her scowl faded. She knew perfectly well what Lammergeier wanted of her and it was exactly what Christophe had hinted at, but she just didn't care for him the way she cared about Adi and Henry and some of the other engines back home. Pretending to emotions she didn't feel—at least not yet—would be dishonest, and she'd always tried to be very honest and fair during her dealings with all locomotives.
"We-ll, I guess I could try to ignore the annoying stuff," she continued on after a further pensive moment. "I do like Lammergeier. You know I do. I just wish he'd be satisfied with that. Plus he's got you and Surendra. You're his friends too. I don't know why he doesn't just turn to you two for more, considering that you're the ones who're with him the most."
Christophe grinned. "Wrong sex. Lammergeier's like Hurricane. He likes the ladies."
"Oh Lord…" Denise muttered, but she couldn't help smiling in tandem with her friend as her sense of humour reasserted itself.
Alas, even the best of times had to end and tours had to move on if that was what they were scheduled to do. There was one last big party for all of Lammergeier's people and special new friends the last evening they spent in Berlin, and thousands again came to the main station to see them off early the next morning. Many ordinary Berliners had taken 'Lamm-chop' and the engine's amusing English gentleman owner into their hearts during the preceding week. Those that didn't join the gathering at the main station made a point of lining the tracks of the 48's departing route instead, and the sporadic cheers and wishes of farewell rang loud in accompaniment to Lammergeier's chuffing and whistling all the while the engine made his way out of the city. It was a great capper to a wonderful sojourn, and they still had many more stopovers and several more countries to visit yet.
Once well into the Russian zone of Berlin, they made one last brief stop to pick up the armoured coach full of VoPos again, then their newly restored full tour train carried on. Lammergeier was soon steaming due south, heading for the city of Dresden. The route they took was familiar to the big 48 and yet unfamiliar. A goodly portion of the old tracks had been destroyed during the War, and although the main lines had been swiftly rebuilt and made usable again, the stations themselves were in many cases either still being restored or being newly constructed. Something which the group aboard the Western coach found out for themselves the first time they stopped midmorning to use the amenities at one little station in particular.
The classic stereotypic whistle stop, even Denise thought to herself as soon as she saw the unfinished wooden platform skirting the rough-looking structures comprising the station proper. They seemed to have halted in the middle of nowhere to boot, nothing but fields and woods and a dirt parking lot and road snaking away between the trees. Not a waiting fan in sight, either…just a couple of rather apathetic railway officials who looked like they wished they were working anywhere else. Despite that, almost everyone disembarked for a bit of exercise or to use the station's restroom facilities, and the VoPos used the opportunity to switch out the sentries riding on top of their own armoured coach.
Denise soon made her way to Lammergeier's front to see how he was doing. Christophe's words about cutting the engine some slack had stuck in her mind and, as usual, she was the only one out on the platform thinking about how Lammergeier might appreciate a little attention or simple acknowledgement, the same as any other person. It still seemed so odd to her, how oblivious many fellow humans, even fellow railroaders were when it came to interacting with living locomotives.
Lammergeier smiled when he first noticed the woman walking up to him, then his smile turned sly as he began pointedly muttering to himself. Sure enough, what he was saying, just loudly enough so that only she could hear him, was not at all nice. He was grumbling away about how the station they were at was unworthy to host the likes of him and nothing but a drab little Zillehof.
His sometime driver grit her teeth at once. "What did I tell you about using terms like that?" she hissed. "You'd better not let anyone else hear you say that!"
"But it's true. What's the point of stopping here? It's so shabby and there's no one here to see us."
"Don't be so rude! You've got three excellent lines to run on and lots of through sidings. They'll get around to sprucing up the lower priority stuff eventually."
"Well, we should only stop at the more important stations then, the ones they've fixed already."
Denise opened her mouth to let fly again, but zipped it when she caught sight of Mister Moderhack strolling forward himself at that point, just stretching his legs. He smiled at Denise and nodded at Lammergeier as he passed them, then stopped a touch further on ahead of them to better regard his surroundings. As with the engine, what he saw must not have impressed him very much.
"What a Zillehof..." Denise distinctly heard him mutter.
The woman's mouth fell open again. She glanced up at Lammergeier and saw that he'd overheard the comment as well for his mouth too was open, albeit in a huge grin. When he realized that Denise was looking at him, he began pantomiming silent laughter. Denise looked away again, appalled. There was no way she could get after him anymore about making similar insulting remarks because that would mean she also disapproved of his old Controller's behaviour. Friggin' Berliners! she thought as she tried to compose herself and pretend she'd never heard a thing. They're exactly the same, the humans and the engines they built!
As she'd feared, it took no time at all for Lammergeier to capitalize on his new immunity, and for the remainder of the day, he declared every station they stopped at which did not meet his exacting standards to be a Zillehof. Mercifully, he was careful never to utter his pronouncements around anyone but the four Sudrians in his party, and two of them thought the engine was being funny and a third couldn't understand him at all when he spoke German. Denise, number four, always understood, of course, whether she liked it or not, and she always did her best at such times to ignore him. She did wonder sometimes what Mister Moderhack would think if he ever heard Lammergeier throwing around his scathing references to Heinrich Zille. Despite holding the 48 in high regard, the old Controller clearly did not yet comprehend the depth of the engine's intellect and Denise suspected that he would be more dismayed than delighted to learn the truth.
Lammergeier's unwelcome reviews aside, the day-long trip down to Dresden otherwise went smoothly and they pulled into the city's main station that evening with the setting sun already throwing long shadows across the tracks in front of them. It was too late to be entertaining the public and Lammergeier's welcome ceremonies were actually scheduled for the following morning. Even so, he did get one visitor in the form of Denise, who came back over to the station to see him before either settled down to sleep. His human friends had come into some recent new information and it was of a sort which had given Christophe some concerns. The little engineer was the one who'd volunteered Denise to go pay the engine a welfare check. He knew that she was still Lammergeier's favourite and that she was the human he'd be most likely to confide in.
The 48 had been parked on the most secluded platform available for the night and his two coaches had already been uncoupled and moved back a short distance behind him. Several VoPos were still on site, guarding him, and eyed Denise keenly for a few seconds when she first appeared, then relaxed once they identified her. When Denise told the one in charge that she just wanted to get up on Lammergeier's running board for a while to chat with him, the man agreeably not only helped her climb up but retrieved her little wooden camp stool from the engine's cab for her before doing so.
Lammergeier lit up at first, especially when he saw that she had her portable little stool with her. Its presence always made for a longer visit. Denise wordlessly ran a hand over the loco's brow and cheek to judge his mood before seating herself. The grey alloy surface was soft. He half-closed his eyes and sighed a little in response to her caress. Satisfied, the woman sat down and hitched herself close enough to his face to keep petting him. His relaxed submission struck her as a welcome change after all the delinquent behaviour he'd engaged in at the stations earlier. Or maybe he was just tired.
His air grew more pensive and distant as their silent communion continued. Denise was pretty sure she knew what was preoccupying the engine's thoughts and wanted to give him an opening to talk about it.
"So. Here we are. Dresden," she remarked. "You going to make some scathing assessments of this poor city too?"
The ghost of a smirk flickered across his face. "Maybe after I see more of it tomorrow. This station is up to standard at least. I still recognize it."
'That's somewhat amazing considering how badly damaged it must have been."
"Yes. It was…"
He became thoughtful again. Wistful.
"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" asked Denise. "Your lost brother?"
"I am," said Lammergeier. He stared glumly into space for a moment before continuing. "This is where it ended for Habicht, right here. The last mention of him Mister Moderhack's been able to find is that he was clocked into the marshalling yard in the center of the city. On the eleventh of February. Two days before the raids. He was never recovered…"
"A lot of people were never recovered either. Consumed by the firestorm, I imagine. Thousands of them…"
For a long interval, both of them commiserated together again, silently. Denise continued to stroke the loco's face, glad that the alloy surface beneath her hand remained soft and yielding, accepting of the comfort she was offering.
"Do you remember where you were, at around the same time?" she asked him.
"In Berlin. I was back in Berlin, or somewhat outside of it, I should say. The humans in charge of us were starting to try and keep us in smaller groups and hidden, to avoid being destroyed en masse during the bombing. And Adler, he was in Poland, I think."
"You were being used as freight engines towards the end, weren't you?"
"We were." He laughed shortly. "The promotional jobs had long since disappeared by then, no more cultural runs and no more sports. It was hard enough to keep the lines functioning well enough to move troops and basic goods."
"I'm sorry, Lammergeier."
"That's all right. The coal ran out where I was and I wasn't out working much the last few months anyway. We mostly just sat, waiting for the fighting to stop. I know it was the Russians who took the city, but the first occupier I saw after Berlin fell was an American, an officer. He came with some soldiers to look us over and take inventory, I think, of what they'd captured."
"You're likely right. The Allies parcelled out a lot of surviving German locomotives as part of the reparations packages. It sounds like you were lucky enough to ride out the end of the war in a good spot. You were never damaged, were you?"
"Not even a single bullet mark. Unlike poor Habicht…"
How sad he looked, thought Denise. Yet she was pleased too by his show of sorrow. Usually, the only time Lammergeier looked unhappy was because he was feeling sorry for himself, not others. "Are you going to be all right tomorrow?" she asked him. "When they parade you around the city?"
"I'll be okay," Lammergeier replied. "Habicht and I, we were never actually in Dresden at the same time. Prague, yes. We'd overnight together in Prague sometimes. But we were never together in either Berlin or Vienna, our two end stations. My best memories of Habicht back then was passing him en route when we did our runs, one of us steaming north, the other south. We always whistled up a storm at each other and people would lean out of their carriage windows and clap and cheer. It was fun… I'll think about those times tomorrow if I have to and I'll be fine."
Denise began to feel a degree of relief as Lammergeier continued on with his reminiscing. Christophe had told her that if any part of their tour might prove troublesome for the 48 that it would almost certainly be Dresden. It was the one place which could reignite the engine's old resentments towards humanity if he got to thinking overmuch about the circumstances of Habicht's death, yet he seemed to be handling it well. She just made sure to carefully listen and to stroke and stroke his face while he spoke and the pale grey alloy beneath her hand never did tense up, not even with any subconscious residual anger. Nor did his eyes harden. Lammergeier had never been a soft-eyed engine. He was still beset by too much turmoil and too high-spirited to ever hand over full mastery of himself for long. Contentment, however…she'd seen those big black eyes of his warm some when he was feeling content. It was likely the best he could manage for now.
Christophe had also warned her that he still believed that Lammergeier had suffered some sort of traumatic event while being loaded onto a flatbed, but where exactly that had happened or when or what had been involved was still a mystery; the engine had never spoken of any such thing. Whatever this theoretical event was, any damage dealt must've been purely psychological, Denise now pondered, if Lammergeier's words about having never suffered so much as a bullet mark's worth of damage were to be believed. She made a mental note to herself to pass the loco's claim on to Christophe later and he could consider its worth in turn. Denise knew that her friend was still working on his book about the nature of living locomotives and that figuring out how the phenomenally gifted mechanical being fate had dumped in his lap ticked was still foremost on his study list.
Well, there were plenty of miles and places to visit left, she thought, so who knew what surprises Lammergeier might still reveal. She'd just have to stay alert and continue to offer a compassionate ear and shoulder for him to lean on, so to speak. When their talk on this occasion finished later, she offered to come back late the following evening should he feel the need to speak privately with someone after their tour about the city or perhaps they could have breakfast together the following morning and check out the early papers' coverage, as they had in Berlin. Lammergeier was clearly pleased by her propositions and declared that he would enjoy another breakfast date best. He accented his words with a wink. Despite herself and her self-appointed vow to ignore such things, Denise couldn't help responding with a shake of her head and a grin. Perhaps Christophe had been right. Lammergeier deserved a little latitude for his continued good behavior and it wasn't really hurting anything.
The VoPo who helped her hop down onto the platform was grinning too. He and the other two policemen who'd been assigned to guard Lammergeier overnight had discretely moved off while Denise and her engine conversed, but he'd seen the wink. It amused him to think that a locomotive could consider himself manly enough to want to flirt with a human woman and he took a certain pride in the knowledge that the loco was German-built.
"Your engine likes you," the VoPo remarked, still smiling. "Bit fresh, though, isn't he?"
"The people at the works where he was made said he's always been like that. He's a real Berliner, one of them said."
That prompted an outright laugh. "True enough. They do have that reputation."
"Not all of them," Denise countered. "Our other 48, Adler, he's exceptionally well-mannered and very biddable. Not at all saucy, just sweet and earnest." She glanced up briefly, saw that Lammergeier was listening in, as usual. "He's an angel by comparison," she concluded with firm conviction.
Both humans looked up at the engine's face as she finished her assessment. Lammergeier smirked. When Denise returned to her hotel room, it was with the certainty that the big 48 would have no trouble whatsoever cruising around Dresden the following day.
As it turned out, Denise's hunch proved entirely correct. The official welcoming ceremonies held at the station the next morning went off without a hitch and their main star remained happy and very approachable throughout. The festivities weren't as elaborate as had happened in Berlin, yet an equally large percentage of their new city's population turned out to see the big red 48. Many were older people, War survivors, who stopped to talk to the visiting human party accompanying the engine. They spoke fondly of how they'd once ridden behind Lammergeier or one of his brothers back when Germany had still been a desirable, cultured country to live in and enthused over what good rail service all the fine locomotives of their day had provided. Lammergeier always appeared especially interested and thoughtful as he listened in to such conversations. He didn't recognize any of the speakers who'd once used his services as individuals, of course, but he did remember their type…pleasant, appreciative people of means looking for classy transportation. He'd once been very proud to serve such people and felt oddly touched that he'd made enough of an impression back then that they could still recall good memories of riding on his trains despite all the intervening years.
The Dresden stop took up two full days and the tour then departed, again quite early, the following morning. Before long they reached their second border crossing, the one between East Germany and Czechoslovakia. It was nothing like passing from West into East Germany. Czechoslovakia was under Communist rule and also part of the Soviet Union and its entry requirements were thus considerably simplified from what the Westerners had undergone back at Helmstedt. There was also no longer any need for extra security or for flying the marks of a fellow Soviet country. The armoured coach and its VoPo contingent were left at the border and so was the big East German flag which had fluttered away next to Lammergeier's face. When their journey resumed soon afterwards, the engine carried a Czech flag instead and was back to pulling the single West German coach. All the East German reps who'd been riding inside it had been changed out too. The Sudrians and few Germans left now had a small group of Czechoslovaks to talk to instead, and much to their pleasure, they quickly proved much friendlier than the East German bunch had initially been.
Lammergeier made great time for the rest of the morning and brought them into a wonderfully picturesque little city on the Elbe River named Usti nad Labem by noon. There, they enjoyed an extended lunch stop until the midafternoon, long enough for the visitors to enjoy some of the city's ambiance and for the engine to go on display for a while at the main station. Usti nad Labem had always been an important rail junction as well as a thriving river port. There were a lot of fans of both modes of transport amongst its population and many of them were lucky enough to see Lammergeier up close that day or watched him chuff by out on the lines.
Interest in the big visiting locomotive remained high even after they they were underway again. Although heading for Prague, Lammergeier was steered through a rather looping route to his final destination which took him through numerous stations and several towns and some truly beautiful scenery. The route had been well publicized and many people came out to line the tracks and clogged the stations, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to see one of prewar Germany's best strut his stuff again on one of the old express runs which had once united three countries. Everyone was delighted by the big turnout, especially the Czech reps inside the tour coach, and Lammergeier himself was so pleased that he would have arched his neck and pranced along, if only he could have. As it was, he made do—and very well so, at that—with a veritable symphony of whistling, and Christophe and Surendra kept him running hot enough that he could wheesh and blast out all the beautiful snowy-white billows of excess stean which he wanted to.
Their arrival in Prague itself was another late one. And a rather weird one, for as soon as they'd reached the famous old city's outskirts, they turned off onto a side line instead of remaining on the main lines; there was a Czech crew assisting inside Lammergeier's cab again and they quickly revealed that there was a certain intent behind their odd backdoor approach to the city's main railway station. Apparently, their official arrival was not due until tomorrow and the Czech tour organizers wanted to sneak their visitors into the city for a good night's rest and then sneak them back out and recreate their entry into the city in a much grander, far better publicized way the following morning. The Sudrians thought it sounded a tad crazy, for how could anyone near the tracks not notice a bright red, flag and banner adorned steam locomotive go by, yet the ploy seemed to work. Surprisingly few people were about all along the last bit of the route they took, and when they got to the main station proper, they chuffed into a sort of annex or substation instead of running on to halt at any of the platforms accessible to the public.
Some porters with trolleys and several more reps were already waiting at their own more secretive stop and helped everyone disembark and retrieve their luggage and other belongings. The Prague layover would cover several more days and all the travellers were in a jovial mood and looking forward to another nice stay in a nice hotel and getting to know their new hosts. Lammergeier began examining his new surroundings more closely as the humans made to leave. He still found it comical that they felt it necessary to hide him away where the general public could not see him, but at least the substation was roomy and promised to be quiet. The only other inhabitant so far seemed to be another good-sized German steam engine that needed to be kept out of the way as well, parked way over on the other side of the platforms. It looked to be an 01 and likely one of the older ones, judging from its huge deflectors. He could just make out the DR emblem on the loco's side, the mark of a member of East Germany's national fleet. Then he spotted something else on the loco's body which galvanized him.
"Halt! Bitte! Stop!" he cried after the departing humans, prompting his driver to whirl about and hurry back at a near run. It had been a long time since Christophe had heard Lammergeier so frantic that he'd mix up his languages.
"What? What?" he yelled back.
"Zat Lok! I zink I know him!"
"What loco? That 01 there? Why would you—" Then he saw the same thing which Lammergeier had seen and comprehension dawned.
The rest of the men (plus one equally puzzled woman) came up at that point.
"What is wrong with your locomotive?" the chief Czech representative asked.
"Lammergeier knows that engine over there, he thinks. He probably wants to talk to him."
"Ja! I do! Could he be moved, maybe? Opposite me so ve could see each other? Pleez, it is very important."
"He knows him? Why would he—ah! Of course. The nameplate…"
With the situation now made clear, everyone relaxed and grew sympathetic, and the Czech rep was happy to issue a few terse orders. Within a few minutes a shunter backed onto the other parked engine and took it outside. There, away from the station, the pair got turned around, then returned on the track right next to Lammergeier's, halting so that both tender locos were now facing one another. Not surprisingly, the engine which had just been moved and who was indeed very much alive looked both surprised and intrigued by his change in position. With his face now fully revealed between his deflectors, he also turned out to be a total stranger.
The two engines regarded each other in silence while Lammergeier's human party assured themselves that their agitated charge was now satisfied. "That 01's crew will have a panic moment when they come for him tomorrow and he is not where he was," one of their Czech hosts remarked as they all left, then laughed as if the very prospect were hilarious. Neither loco joined in. They were still sizing each other up and Lammergeier was starting to feel a tad foolish about having just interrupted the stranger's no doubt peaceful rest.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you might have been someone else and asked that you be moved so we could talk. I just came in from—"
"Dresden, yes. My driver told me," the other loco interrupted. He looked the 48 up and down. "You're that engine doing the friendship tour, aren't you? Your name is Lammergeier? A Raubvogel class 48?"
"I am."
"I'm Waldemar. A class 01, but I imagine you already know that. Which 01 did you think I might be?"
"Sigismund. I forget his number, but he used to run between Berlin, Leipzig and Dresden back in the day. Do you know which one I mean?"
Waldemar's expression turned sober. "I do and I haven't seen him for years. He's likely gone." He paused, looked at Lammergeier more closely. "I don't know you. You had two brothers, though, didn't you? One of them was named Adler?"
"You knew Adler?" Lammergeier exclaimed, surprised. "From Berlin or…?"
"From Berlin, but after the War. We were all held in the same yard for a while, Adler and myself and one of my own brothers, while they sorted out who was going to take possession of us. We all wound up in the eastern sector. I lost touch with Adler after they sent him to a different yard further south, but I gather that he's now with you in the British Isles, is that right?"
"It is. We both work for the North Western Railway on Sodor Island now."
Waldemar sighed, a smile brightening his face for the first time.
"I'm glad to hear that. They worked him as a freighter here and I always feared that he'd been scrapped once we parted. They were death on the old freighters down there. It was the first place they replaced all the steam with diesels. I always thought it so sad that they didn't appreciate Adler for what he was, even when he was still in Berlin."
"Neither of us were appreciated," said Lammergeier, who couldn't prevent a trace of bitterness from tainting his voice. He studied Waldemar's handsome black and red livery, which looked fresh and well-polished. "You seem to be doing all right. Someone obviously appreciates you."
"Yes, myself and all the 01s left in East Germany. I'm still stabled up in Berlin and do runs to a number of our Eastern Bloc neighbours now—the State thinks we're still very useful, it seems. I've heard that we're well thought of over in the West too. They've already upgraded a number of their own 01s and plan to rebuild a lot more, or so my crew and fitters have told me. No upgrades for me, though. I'm still the same as I've always been and do all right."
"It's not a bad thing to remain original," said Lammergeier. "It'll make you more valuable should they ever choose to preserve you for heritage purposes in the future."
"That's exactly what my fitters in my sheds keep telling me! That they'll try and keep me going just as I am for as long as they can."
"I wish them luck." Once more, a hint of resentment soured the 48's next words. "I used to be original too. Not anymore. I lost my tender."
The other engine's only response was to smile again. "Ah, but you lost it for the best reason possible. And doing so earned you this tour. Didn't it?"
Waldemar's frank comments took Lammergeier aback, a little. The 01 was certainly blunt and hard-spoken, but Lammergeier found himself liking him even so. He had the sense that he would get a more honest view of what life was like for the surviving locos in this new divided Germany from engines such as Waldemar than he would ever get from listening to the humans.
For the next hour, the two locos exchanged their stories. Lammergeier learned that Waldemar had been made in Essen by one of the Krupp works and that they'd awoken within months of one another. The 01 also agreed that it was a shame that relatively few living engines had survived the War. Waldemar's home sheds and yard had already collected a fair number of the surviving living ones, though. Waldemar's brother Siegfried was one of them and there were a number of the similar, yet lighter class 03s to befriend as well. The people running the Berlin stables were all sensible and mindful of how engines should be treated—"They're proper railway men…Germans, not Soviets," Waldemar opined—and took care to always berth their living charges together so they could keep each other company. Waldemar held his new masters in high regard for that reason alone. They weren't sentimental, but they did understand locomotives and the importance of railways, and he felt he would continue to be valued as long as he served them well.
"You will have to give Adler our greetings and express our relief that he made it after all," Waldemar said in closing. "From myself and Siegfried. Oh! And Diana too. She's one of the 03s he liked a lot. I think she was happier than any of us when we found out from our humans what had really happened to Adler."
"I'll be sure to do that," replied Lammergeier, his feelings at that moment rather mixed. He was glad to hear that Adler had been in with friendly fellow engines after the War, at least for a while, but he felt embarrassed too. Adler had never once mentioned any of the locos named. But then, Lammergeier had never given him the opportunity to do so. There was a long span of years from midway through the War to over a decade later which was a near blank insofar as Lammergeier's understanding of his brother's experiences went; they just never talked about it. Denise, though…Adler had talked to Denise about it, the 48 thought. He was suddenly not at all happy about that, that Adler would confide in their mutual human friend but not him.
Much as they wound up enjoying their conversation, the two German engines agreed to call it a night only a short time later. Both took their work seriously and wanted to be well-rested for their busy days ahead. Waldemar had a long passenger train to take back to Berlin and Lammergeier was scheduled to recreate his entry into Prague by midmorning; the two of them laughed a little about Lammergeier having to arrive in the city twice over and the first time not counting somehow, but that was the humans for you. A lot of what they did was truly incomprehensible.
In the morning, both locos woke up to the sound of a scolding voice. "You just about gave us a heart attack when we didn't see you at first!" Waldemar's driver was complaining loudly to his engine, then dialed it back as soon as he looked over at Lammergeier. "Guess it's okay, though," he grumbled on. "Wanted to talk to a new buddy, na, Waldi?"
Waldi… The engines grinned at one another as the 01's crew climbed aboard to start firing him up, the one man still muttering away. It was the best proof in Lammergeier's mind that his new friend was indeed doing just fine.
The 48's own crew, Christophe and Surendra, showed up not long afterwards and also began prepping their engine. Waldemar's humans watched when they could, enjoying their unexpected private look at the famous visiting class 48, and waved over their greetings in lieu of anything verbal; they were German-speaking only and correctly guessed that the foreign crew wouldn't understand much beyond a 'hallo'. When Waldemar departed, he filled the whole little substation with a lusty whistle of farewell, and Lammergeier made his own decision to reply, his own whistle sounding rather anemic by comparison since his steam wasn't fully up yet. Christophe, who'd just hopped back out of Lammergeier's cab to check his externals didn't bother correcting him. He knew his engine missed having fellow locomotives around to talk to.
"So was that 01 the one you were expecting?" he asked when he reached Lammergeier's front axels. "Your friend from the early days?"
"No. He vas not. It vas vun of his brothers. Valdemar."
"Waldemar, huh?"
"He said… Zere are not many living Loks left in Germany just now, is vhat he said. Is zat true?"
"He's quite right," said Christophe. "It's one of the things we've been talking about with all the railway reps we've been meeting. The Third Reich placed an actual moratorium on the building of living locos when they started ramping up production for their planned expansions and some of the more ethical works had already stopped even before that. They could tell what was coming, you see, and didn't want any of the engines they built being able to suffer. It's not like building a living engine over one that's purely mechanical takes a huge amount of extra time and work either, mind you. It's just that when you're really churning out your product, even an extra hour taken causes delay and makes a difference. There's just no time anymore for any sort of nicety, not when people go to war."
"Oh," said Lammergeier. He thought back to what it had been like when he himself had first awoken. He recalled his human minders being kind with him…patient…as they eased him through his first few days. Everything had been explained to him in simple terms and he'd never been hurried. No, that sort of start would not have fit in with what Christophe was describing about the need to rush new locomotives out of the shops as fast as possible and put them straight to work, no training required. "I hope zis is not a preference zhat will be permanent," he added. "No more living Loks. Only machines."
"Don't you worry about that," Christophe assured him cheerfully. "You'll see lots more new live locos back on the rails here before you know it. Most of Europe's still rebuilding just now and trying to get their various infrastructures back up to par. They're still in war mode, in a sense, refurbishing and reusing what still works and rolling out anything new as fast as they can. But that won't last much longer. I've no doubt whatsoever that all the engine designs on the drawing boards right now will include the option to attach a faceplate. Also, I'm sure that the next generation of crews and such coming up are going to want to work with living engines too. Most of us do, you know. Real railway people always prefer dealing with you live ones, despite all the headaches you cause us."
Lammergeier smiled, responding to his driver's breezy optimism. "Do I cause you headaches, Christophe?" he asked, rather coyly.
"You? You're a veritable migraine inducer is what you are. But Surendra and I, we kind of like you even so…"
Lammergeier settled down to finish waiting for his steam to come up, feeling reassured and happy again.
The subterfuge insisted upon by the Czechs had great returns in the end. Lammergeier was successfully snuck back out of Prague and re-entered the city on the mainlines under a clear blue sky precisely on schedule later that morning. Prague had largely escaped the sort of destruction inflicted on many other regions during the War and was still a magnificent city full of spectacular old structures dripping with history. Even the main railway station was uncommonly beautiful to behold and Lammergeier's eyes lit up with real joy as he steamed closer, for he recognized everything—it all looked the same as he'd last seen it two decades ago. Aside from the huge cheering crowds waiting at his platform for him, of course. He'd always drawn attention when he'd pulled into Prague back then, but nothing like this. Such a fervent welcome coming on top of his conversation with a fellow German steam engine at last really stoked the big 48 and he was right back at his prancey-dancey best, wheeshing and whistling up a storm all the while he finished chuffing into the station and taking his position.
The next two days seemed to fly by. Their major stops had by now fallen into a set routine, with Lammergeier alternating between being on public display and taking short looping neighbourhood runs to show himself off and offer spectacular photo opportunities. His usual crew, with the assistance of a host crew to navigate, always drove the engine at such times, and he would at least once pull along his coach, so that the other members of the tour group plus some of the hosts could enjoy the sights too. Evenings were typically devoted to entertaining the human members of the Friendship Tour. There were always tons of local railway people to meet and talk to and they sometimes had special engines of their own stashed at the marshalling yards or out working which they wanted to show to the visitors. It all made for very full days with no time at all to be bored. Lammergeier wasn't bored either. He'd become quite forward about speaking to the people who came to see him if he wanted to and had become adept at picking out the ones most likely to respond to his overtures. And he approved of Prague in general. He always had. It offered the sort of sumptuous surroundings and cultured ambiance which he felt he deserved.
All too soon, Lammergeier and his humans were back out on the mainlines, steaming for the final stop on his old historic route. Their departure had been an early one for they had some distance to go before they reached the border and the engine was allowed to run fast, as fast as he'd raced towards Berlin after leaving Magdeburg. His own speed and the crisp air whistling past his face and making his flags snap and pop exhilarated the 48. He got so excited that he pulled a little on his throttle, and much to his delight, his driver Christophe for once indulged him and let him out another notch.
Emerging from behind the Iron Curtain was not as easy as travelling from one Soviet country to another. Again, there was an extensive customs inspection and search of the locomotive and his coach to undergo before the Berlin Friendship Tour was allowed to leave Czechoslovakia and proceed on into Austria. By the time they finally made it through the border, the sun was already high overhead and they stopped at the first sizable town on their route to both hook up with their new contingent of hosts and enjoy some calming downtime over a leisurely long midday meal. Mister Moderhack in particular seemed relieved to be back amongst a bunch of horrible Capitalists. Even though nothing bad or too officious had happened to anyone under his charge and the tour had progressed on schedule and they'd been extremely well received throughout, the old Controller more so than anybody knew how dicey the Communists could be when it came to cooperation and multinational events and how easily they could have taken offense and shut things down. For him, the hard, nerve-wracking part was now over. All the rest would surely be a cakewalk by comparison, and if he subconsciously celebrated by imbibing a wee bit too much that day during lunch and becoming unusually jovial and silly for a few hours as a result, well, nobody was about to hold it against him.
Once more, just as had happened at Dresden and Prague, the Friendship Tour finally made it into Vienna, their last stop, far too late for their arrival to count as their official arrival. That would be celebrated the following morning when Lammergeier would again be asked to recreate his entrance into the city's main station at a more convenient hour. The engine still thought it a silly thing to be doing, to enter a city twice over, yet by now understood the optics and scheduling requirements involved and so remained affable and cooperative about it. His crew and special friends were glad. They'd had a tiring day and didn't need to be angsting over their locomotive's feelings or having to worry about leaving him on his own. What they did want was exactly what they got, another nice low-key meal with some of their new friends, after which they were dropped off at their hotel to relax and rest up for the remainder of the evening. The Austrians had planned a lot of exciting activities for their Viennese stopover and the Sudrians were still enthusing about them amongst themselves as they made their way through the lobby of their luxurious temporary new digs.
Sir Topham Hatt always cut a memorable figure no matter where he went. On this particular occasion, as he made his way to the front desk, he caught the eye of a slender, elegantly-clad man who'd been sitting on one of the lobby's armchairs. The man had short-cropped, sandy blond hair sprinkled with a hint of grey and appeared to straddle the line between youth and middle age, and his rimless round spectacles well accessorized his air of solemn intellect. He leapt to his feet as soon as he spotted the Fat Controller and intercepted him just before Sir Topham reached the hotel's front desk.
"Sir Topham Hatt, sir?"
"Yes?"
Another member of the Austrian welcoming committee, Sir Topham was thinking already as he turned to face the stranger, but that wasn't it at all. The blond man smiled a little before speaking again, encouraged by the Englishman's agreeable response.
"My name is Karl Klaus Thyssenkrupp," he said, "and I need to speak with you about something which I am certain will be of very, very great interest to you…"
to be continued...