At Tidmouth's roundhouse, the engines were chatting when James said, "It's not fair that a splendid engine like me hasn't been considered for The Golden Railway. I would fit it perfectly."

"Here we go again," Henry groaned.

"James, it's not what it's cracked up to be, apparently," Rosie said. "Murdoch told me that the engines have to work at every hour of the day. The people who run it think that if they're going to preserve engines, the public has to know that the engines are useful at all times."

"And we all know how much you like your beauty sleep," Thomas added.

James conceded defeat. "Yeah...I guess you're right."

"Besides," Gordon rumbled, "any place that accepts Diesel Ten is no place for a grand engine like me."

"You're just jealous that he got the highest score in the competition's history, and you weren't even so much as nominated," Henry teased.

"I am not!"

"He has a point," Thomas said. "Diesel Ten is a manipulative bully. Why anyone would want HIM around is a mystery."

"Um...I think he may have a softer side," Percy piped up.

"How can you say that? After how he tricked you eleven years ago?" Emily asked.

"I've been thinking about that, and...what if Diesel Ten was afraid of being turned down if he asked Sir Topham Hatt directly?"

Silence loomed over the sheds.

"Well, I guess it's time to go to sleep, then," Edward interrupted, eager to prevent a fight.

"Agreed," Gordon said, before shutting his eyes and falling asleep.

"Billy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for...uh...well-"

"What he wants to thank you for is bringing us Derek's old engine," Dart interjected. He, Den, Billy, and Norman were in the Dieselworks' sheds. "We've been trying to solve Derek's problems for years. It'll be interesting to see how his new system works."

"Oh. Well, you're welcome, Den."

Den smiled.

Paxton rolled up. "Uh, Billy, I don't want to be rude, but you might want to move."

"Can't you sleep elsewhere?" Billy asked, a little irritated.

"It's not me. It's Diesel. You're where he normally sleeps."

"Diesel," Norman grunted, "is working late tonight. If he needs a shed, he can board with the Smelters twins."

Sidney came from behind the sheds and backed into the last spare berth. "I forgot what I was supposed to tell Diesel Ten," he apologized. "But when I got there, he was asleep."

"No, Sidney, that's a good thing!" Norman said. "We told you to check on him and see if he was awake."

"I was? Oh, I'd better go!"

"...You already went."

"...Right."

"So," Paxton said, "what's this 'Golden Railway' I've heard so much about?"

"I'll start, because I was there and know the history best," Billy said. The others nodded.

He began.

"To know why Diesel Ten doesn't like The Golden, you must first know what The Golden is. It's a smallish railway in north England, close to the Scottish border. Founded in 1919, The Golden was first meant to honor the living engines who served in WW1. Eventually, it became a complete 'Lifer railway' when zealous followers of modernization began scrapping live steam engines along with the nonliving ones.

"To get onto the railway, you must first be nominated. Then, you must compete against other engines in what's basically the Olympics, but with a new job as the prize. There are seven contests - strength, courtesy, humility, creativity, intelligence, cooperation, and speed, with all of them serving as a test of endurance. Each one is worth ten points. The engine with the highest score at the end becomes a member of The Golden Council - the winners of the contests - and chooses two engines from their old railway to be their 'apprentices'. I was an apprentice to Murdoch, who won the 2008 competition. Oh, and the contests are held every four years."

"Sounds great!" Paxton said.

"Not so fast, Pax. Steam engines have always been nominated since the first contest in 1920, and electrics since 1956, but no diesels ever got considered. Not until 2000, at least. That year, Mesa Roja - a Lifer railway in New Mexico - had nominated one of their steam engines, but he was disqualified when it was discovered he was getting illegal modifications to increase his speed. So The Golden chose another engine.

"He was sent to work on Sodor three years earlier, but he used to live at Mesa Roja. He was big. He was strong. And he would rewrite history.

"His name?"

"DIESEL TEN!" the announcer roared.

Diesel Ten, then much younger and happier-looking, slid into a massive stadium. The engines who were spectating gulped in fear of the mighty diesel with a hydraulic claw attached to his roof. As did his opponents (well, all but one).

"And here we have all seventeen of our competitors," said the announcer's friend. "All lined up for the first event: The Strength Contest!"

"As you all know," the announcer boomed, "in this competition, our engines have to pull twenty trucks of different types. The one whose front wheels get the closest to the 500-yard mark before tiring wins."

"But this year is different," said the friend. "This is 2000, the start of a new millennium. Let's celebrate that by changing things up a bit. This time we won't be using British rolling stock. We'll be using American rolling stock."

"Should be easy," one of the competitors, an SJ U electric engine named Elsa, said.

"This should provide an extra challenge, because American rolling stock is twice the size of British rolling stock."

"Spoke too soon," Elsa gulped, as the trains were pushed into the stadium by massive US freight locomotives.

"Our trains consist of (and I shall use American terminology here) two boxcars, two tankers, two autoracks, two hoppers, two gondolas (what Americans call trucks), four flatbeds, a crane, four types of coach, and a big red caboose (even though no one really needs them with air brakes now, the Yanks still think it's traditional that their trains have one)."

The engines were coupled up to their trains.

"Greetings, Diesel Ten," said the caboose at the end of the diesel's train. "My name is Garrett, and I will be your caboose today."

"Hello, Garrett," Diesel Ten replied. "Ready to win this?"

"Ready to be used for the first time in eighty years? You bet your rear cab I am!"

"Begin!" the announcer yelled.

The engines struggled with the unexpectedly heavy trains. Not Diesel Ten.

"Wow. Diesel Ten takes the lead here. How can a Warship be so good with American trucks?" said the befuddled announcer.

"Well," said the friend, "he's not an actual Class 42."

"He's not?"

"No. He's the prototype for a model that never came to be, the Class 42 1/2 'Battleship' by EMD. His designers loved the Class 42, but wanted to improve on it. So they made a diesel even stronger, faster, with more endurance, durability, and fuel efficiency."

Diesel Ten reached the halfway mark.

"Wait," Paxton said. "If he's an American diesel, why does he have a British accent?"

"His designers were British," Norman explained.

"Oh."

Diesel Ten eventually could go no further and stopped. "How far did I get?" he moaned.

"The line is under my front wheel," said the female boxcar behind him.

"Wait, what?"

"Diesel Ten wins it! What an unbelievable feat! No one's ever gotten past the line!" the announcer shouted.

The crowd lost it.

"In first place, Diesel Ten for Mesa Roja at 521 yards! In second place, Lady for Muffle Mountain at 485 yards. In third place, Adolf for Deutsche Bahn at 472 yards..."

As the announcer rambled, Diesel Ten was uncoupled from his train. "Attaboy!" said his driver, a small, shrewd man.

"You've never spoken before," his engine noted.

"Never had a good reason to."

The two laughed.

"Good job, big guy!" said a feminine voice. Diesel Ten looked around. "Down here."

He looked and saw a small 0-4-0 tank engine, who looked an awful lot like a GWR Class 101. She was painted the same shade of purple as a grape, with her funnel and smokebox painted gold. She was definitely a very beautiful engine, Ten decided. Her name, LADY, was painted on her tanks in golden lettering.

"So you're the little engine that could," the diesel chuckled. "I have to admit, I'm impressed you managed to get as far as you did."

"I have enhanced strength to compensate for my small size. And by the looks of it, so do you."

"It's part of my design."

"Mine too, darling!"

"I'm still gonna beat you."

"Don't be too sure, Diesel Ten. Courtesy is next up, and I will so beat you at that."

"Bring it on, puffball."

"Bring it on he did!" Sidney chuckled. "He won them all, scoring ten out of ten for each. He was unstoppable!"

"You remember THAT?" Billy asked.

"My SHORT-term memory is bad, but my long-term memory is just fine."

"Sidney's right," Dart smiled, as a montage of Diesel Ten being awesome flashed through his head. "Diesel Ten won all eighty points - the highest score possible in the competition. No other engine had ever done that."

"So did he get on The Golden?" Paxton asked excitedly.

"Well..." Billy began, a little unsettled.

"With all eighty points, Diesel Ten has won the competition!" the announcer said, a bit worn out from the excitement.

Everyone cheered for him. The diesel smiled. "I did it," he said to himself quietly.

"And now he is an official member of The Golden Council! Choose your apprentices!" said Lyle Wellington, the manager of the railway himself, bringing a microphone to the diesel's face.

"Easy," the diesel said. "Splatter and Dodge of Sodor, I choose you!"

Two Class 8s, one olive green and one purple, whooped in excitement from the Sodor section of the audience.

The Golden Council engines rolled into the stadium. "It's about time we had a diesel," a maroon Class C4 (Belle's class) said. He smiled at the newcomer.

"Not so fast!"

Everyone gasped as an old Class O2 rolled right in front of Diesel Ten. The black 2-8-0 tender engine glared at him.

"Diesels," he spat, "are nothing but trouble. They're all the same: liars, slackers, whiners, the list goes on. As one of the original members of The Golden Railway, I FORBID you to enter!"

"Nigel!" scolded a dark green Class C1, identified as TRACY by her nameplate. "He won fair and square, you have to let him on!"

"No I don't," Nigel snarled. He rammed Diesel Ten off the rails. "I'd rather have a steam engine," he continued, glaring daggers at the downed Battleship. "Let's see..." his eyes fell on Lady. "The little purple one. She'll do nicely."

Lady spluttered. "N-no, you don't understand, I don't do good with fame. Just take the dumb diesel-" hearing this hurt Diesel Ten "-and leave me alone!"

"Come," Nigel said, sliding over to her like a sleaze (which he was). "You're small and adorable. The children would just love to see you." He shoved Lady and began to push her out of the stadium. "Game's over! Go home!" he snapped to the crowd.

The crowd of people and engines began to leave, save the Sudrian diesels, who rushed into the stadium to calm down their crying friend.

"It's okay," BoCo said. "I know it's not fair that we're treated like boiler sludge just because of what fuel we use. Especially if some engines perpetuate the stereotypes about us," he added, glaring at Arry, Bert, and Diesel, who nervously looked down at the rails.

"Any place that lets that Nigel guy be a bully isn't worth the trouble," Splatter hissed. "He's disgraceful!"

"Disgusting!" Dodge jumped in.

"Despicable," Dart finished. "Come on, Boss, let's go home. I'll check you over, too; Nigel may have dented your buffers."

Diesel Ten rerailed himself by pushing himself back on the tracks with his claw. Still sobbing, he followed his friends out.

Lady, still being pushed out by Nigel, saw Diesel Ten was upset.

"I'm so sorry," she said sadly, before beginning to cry herself.

"I don't remember that part," a confused Dart said to Billy.

"You and Diesel Ten must not have seen it," Billy replied. "She really was sorry," he continued, "but she had no choice. Mr. Wellington's superior, Mr. James Kirkman, said Nigel did the right thing, and he always got the final say."

Paxton was now starting to cry. "W-what happened to Nigel?"

"Karma happened," Norman grunted. "A week later Nigel had a freak accident, and he was damaged so badly he had to get scrapped. Billy forgot to mention this, but The Golden only adds on new engines when it's growing and needs them. If it's not growing, one of the council engines will compete, and if they lose, they leave, freeing up a position."

"That's what happened in 2008. Murdoch went to The Golden because The Mallard lost his position to him in the competition," Billy explained.

"Precisely. But positions also open when a council engine dies. So when Nigel died, his position was opened up. Mr. Wellington went to Sodor and apologized to Diesel Ten personally, and asked him if he wanted to come just to spite whatever was left of Nigel. Diesel Ten said yes, and he, Splatter, and Dodge left for The Golden.

"They had no idea things were soon going to get worse."

"Hiya kids!" Splatter said to a station filled with kids. The kids had heard new engines were coming and wanted to welcome them.

"Hello," Dodge said more quietly, although he was still happy.

The children cheered for them. "Diesels! I love diesels!" said one of the kids, a little boy with glasses.

"Are you on the council?" a little girl asked.

"No," Dodge chuckled, "though we'd like to be. Our friend is the one on the council. In fact, here he comes now!"

Diesel Ten slid onto the track closest to the station and grinned.

The station went silent.

"I don't think I like diesels anymore," said the boy.

All the children freaked out. Diesel Ten slapped his forehead with his claw. "Once again," he grunted, "I'm the monster."

"The parents were terrified too, according to him," Sidney sighed. "They started to tell The Golden's managers what a bad railway it was. It was eventually decided that Diesel Ten could stay, but he'd have to work in the scrapyards where no one could see him. He'd worked in scrapyards for so much of his life he'd gotten sick of them, but he had no choice."

"The Golden Scrapyard is the WORST scrapyard in the world, Paxton," Billy griped. "Instead of engine corpses neatly laid flat on the rails they're stacked into huge, unstable mounds. Everyone has to be very careful while working there. Diesel Ten was working there one day, collecting wheels for engines who needed theirs replaced with Splatter and Dodge, when disaster struck."

"Trailing wheels from an A1!" Splatter hollered. "Flying Scotsman's order has to come through!"

Diesel Ten wheeled forward to the corpse of an old A1 lying on its side, its cab sticking out from one of the mounds. "Okay Pinchy, let's see how nimble you are," he said to his claw. He reached forward and deftly snapped the trailing axle in half, then slipped both of the wheels off it. He backed up and deposited his catch into one of Splatter's trucks. "Y'know, you guys behave a lot better than your Sudrian counterparts."

"We have to be," one of the trucks replied. "One false move and the whole thing falls to the ground. We've lost too many of our brethren that way."

"Okay," Splatter said. "Now we need one driving and two tender wheels for a Stirling Single named Emily."

"We should get both drivers so we have a spare," Ten said.

"Good idea."

Diesel Ten moved forward and looked through the mounds. "Stirling...Stirling...I know there's one in here...there it is." The corpse was also on its side and was wedged in its mound very firmly. "This will require maximum precision," he said to his claw.

"He's talking to it again," one of the trucks said.

"You get used to it," Dodge said to him. The truck shut up.

Diesel Ten slowly snapped the driving axle and the coupling rod, then slowly lifted the driver off its axle, backed up, and lowered it into one of Dodge's trucks. He moved forward again and pondered how to get the other driver, and the tender's wheels too.

He didn't see it, but a car drove into the scrapyard. A teenager thought it would be fun to scare Diesel Ten. So right when the diesel figured out the safest way to dislodge the corpse, the teenager honked his car's horn.

"GAH!" Diesel Ten yelped, jolting forward in surprise and smacking into an Ivatt corpse sticking out of the mound head-on. The teenager cackled and drove away. "WHY YOU LITTLE BAS-"

The mound began to shake. In doing so, the Stirling corpse was dislodged. Diesel Ten hastily grabbed its other driver and flung it behind him, where it landed into a truck.

"What about the tender wheels?!" Splatter yelled.

"We'll just have to take the whole tender!" Diesel Ten yelled back, hefting the tender over his roof. "Right now we have to get out of here!"

So the three engines scrambled out, just in time for the mound to collapse. A Jinty lying precariously at its summit fell off and landed on the ground with a sickening crunch.

"That," Dodge panted, "was too close."

"Good thing you live up to your name, huh?" Splatter asked.

The trucks trembled in fear.

"Let's deliver these wheels, then tell the controller what happened," Diesel Ten said. "Luckily, no one was hurt."

"He had no idea how wrong he was," Billy sighed. "You see, Paxton, because of the unsafe scrapyard there's a special protocol. All engines must whistle six times when they enter, and seven times when they leave. That way, they minimize casualties. But the heads of the railway neglected to tell their engines and their drivers; only Diesel Ten, his apprentices, and two other engines knew about it.

"Lady was not one of those two who did."

As he made his way home, Diesel Ten saw Dexter, a Class 76 electric engine, hauling a mysterious lump on a flatbed. When he got closer, he discovered that the lump was actually Lady, whom he hadn't seen in a while. Her body was crushed, her face was bruised, and her eyes were shut. She appeared dead.

"What happened?!" Diesel Ten exclaimed.

"Scrap mound collapsed. A Jinty fell on her and knocked her out. She's alive, but unconscious," Dexter explained.

"Ohhh...this is all my fault."

"No it isn't, Ten," Tracy said, pulling up beside him. "I saw everything. My driver notified Mr. Wellington, and my fireman called the police. That teenager's got a lot of explaining to do."

"I hope Lady's okay," Diesel Ten murmured.

"We all do," Dexter said.

"Everyone was worried for her. Their drivers confirmed the protocol's existence in their guidebooks, and all the engines promised to use it from then on. They rejoiced when they heard Lady regained consciousness, that her repairs would be completed in five months, and that her driver Mr. Stone decided not to press charges against Diesel Ten, for he blamed himself for not knowing to whistle. One day, Diesel Ten was scheduled to see Lady...but he never got the chance, for that morning a group of people came to his shed and mobbed him. They called him names and threw things at him, and wouldn't let him leave. No one knew why. At first.

"It turned out a newspaper had started publishing a story a week after Lady's accident. The story claimed Lady was a magical engine, who used special gold dust to keep steam engines alive! And Diesel Ten was an evil, despicable being who had tried to scrap her so he could wipe out living steam engines for good! The story wasn't remotely true, not to mention poorly written, but the public loved it, and hated Diesel Ten because of it. Splatter and Dodge weren't affected because the story said they reformed out of nowhere and turned on him, but Diesel Ten was now seen as a monster.

"They kept getting worse, and soon Diesel Ten couldn't work. One night, a reporter came to the sheds to ask him why he tried to kill Lady."

"I didn't!" Diesel Ten said to the reporter.

"He's got witnesses, too!" Tracy added. "Me, Splodge, all our operators, Lady's driver, and nineteen trucks on top of that!"

"Diesels always look out for each other," the reporter snapped. "Trucks always love to play tricks, and women can't be expected to know anything."

"EXCUSE ME?!" roared literally half the engines in the roundhouse.

The reporter sighed and left. "Dumb machines."

Mr. Wellington slipped into the sheds and stood in front of the engines. "Diesel Ten, I have disturbing news," he said grimly. "Your driver was almost mauled this morning, but he managed to beat the assailant up. But he found out something very bad from the attacker. Tomorrow night, a group of people are going to pour sugar into your tanks and seize you up, and then they'll rip your claw apart in front of you and make you watch."

Diesel Ten gulped.

"You can only do one thing: leave the railway tonight. I'm very sorry, but you have no other options. Lady hasn't been fully repaired, so she can't refute that she's got magic powers, and I don't think Kirkman wants her to. This tall tale has brought a lot of revenue to the railway, and he's always been focused on our profits."

"Prat," the C4 muttered.

"I know, Marvin, but he's a powerful prat. Splatter and Dodge have elected to stay because they think it's good if people get used to there being diesels."

"I can respect that," Diesel Ten said. "But I will miss them."

His driver climbed into his engine.

"Diesel Ten?"

A steam engine had said that. He was a fairly old engine, an NBR Class K. He was painted a glittering gold, and his name, RICHARD, was painted on his tender in black. He was very significant: he was the very first engine to win the competition, and to work on the railway.

"Good luck. I mean it."

"Unfortunately, that was easier said than done," Dart said. "Billy, we'll take over from here, for the last part happened on Sodor before you came."

"Got it."

"When Diesel Ten came back, we were expecting him to come straight home. But there was a little...detour. The mainland's engines knew the story was fake, but the Sudrian engines were far more naive, and believed it."

Diesel Ten sighed as he trundled down the rails.

"Oh no! It's him!"

Diesel Ten saw six engines he hadn't seen before. A blue E2 (Thomas), a blue A1 (Gordon), a red K28 (James), a brown J70 (Toby), a green Class 5 (Henry), and a green saddletank that looked like a seriously malformed Trojan (Percy). They glared at him.

"You killed an innocent engine!" the E2 snapped.

"Didn't you ever get told not to believe everything you read?" Diesel Ten growled. His claw snapped, frightening the six engines.

"Don't deny it. You're a monster," said the K28.

"A monster who can outrun you!" Diesel Ten replied, before running off.

"Let's get him!" the E2 exclaimed, before chasing after him.

"Oh, I wish Edward wasn't in the works so he could talk some sense into Thomas," the A1 groaned.

Diesel Ten managed to get himself turned around and wasn't facing Thomas, who was chasing him. Diesel Ten was much faster, what with being based on an engine used for pulling expresses, but Thomas knew about the old viaduct Diesel Ten was unknowingly heading towards. Thomas braked just in time, but Diesel Ten's 85-ton bulk rocketed over the bridge and caused it to collapse. Luckily, he fell into a passing garbage barge.

"That'll teach you," Thomas hissed, before backing away.

"Eventually we found him, upset. I guess everything he'd been through finally made him snap."

"Steam engines!" Diesel Ten seethed while Den and Dart cleaned him out. "They're all the same! I can't believe I actually trusted them! No more! From now on, I will be the scariest diesel they've ever seen, if that's what they think I should be!"

"Finally!" Diesel, the black anti-steam Class 8, said joyfully.

Den and Dart exchanged a worried look.

"And there you have it," Sidney finished. "Lies and intolerance turned Diesel Ten into the engine you know him as."

"Poor guy," Paxton whimpered. Sidney backed up, and Paxton rushed into his brother's berth and started sobbing profusely, while Sidney tried to comfort him as best he could.

"So that's why he hates steam engines," Billy gasped.

"Diesel Ten was always a little uncomfortable around steam engines," Den interjected. "But remember, the NWR wasn't his first railway; Mesa Roja was. When Diesel Ten first came to Sodor he was very upset, and we heard him cry all night. We have reason to believe he'd recently lost someone very important to him. We don't know if it was his creator, or an engine he was close to or even loved, but at any rate he won't say a word about his old life. And given he can tear a truck to pieces with his claw in a few seconds, we're frankly too afraid to ask him."

"That's the most you've said without stuttering," Dart noted, very impressed.

"I, uh, was thinking that one up for, erm, a few years now."

By now Paxton had calmed down, and was fast asleep. The other diesels decided it was best to sleep too. Tomorrow would be a big day, after all. But Billy stayed awake a little longer, and stared at Diesel Ten's distant shed.

"I hate leaving loose ends by nature," Billy said quietly. "But The Golden Railway taught me how to turn that impulsiveness into initiative and drive. I don't want you to feel so alone, Ten. It may be silly, but I won't rest until you're okay."

And then he fell asleep, dreaming of silent pastures and the sea.

So there you have it! The Golden Railway! And TATMR is a bunch of tabloids!

Will Billy get to meet Diesel Ten himself? Will Diesel Ten discover Lady? And what happened to the thing in the prologue?

All this and more in the next chapter - The Origin of Lifers!