That night

"Everyone, I am pleased to say that our final preparations before going to Peel Godred have been finished!" Sir Topham Hatt announced to the Steam Team. The engines, who included a visiting Toby, cheered. Suddenly, a workman came up to Hatt and whispered into his ear. "What?...Oh." He turned back to his engines. "Change of plans. There's one thing that needs to be done before you go."

Small, staccato puffing, punctuated by a thin, shrill whistle as Lady rolled onto the turntable.

"Is there something you'd like to say to us?" Toby asked.

"Not me," Lady replied as she was turned onto a little siding on the other side of the expanded shed. "Him."

A deep, booming horn echoed through the air. A dark shape slid out of the shadows, nearing closer and closer. Under the cover of darkness, he crept in onto the turntable, the light shining ominously on his face. It was Diesel Ten, who was looking in much better shape than normal.

Silence as Ten glared at the Steam Team. "Are you wondering why I'm here?" he asked.

"Uh...yeah, you could say that..." Percy trailed off.

"Because I have unfinished business here. Especially with him," Diesel Ten replied. The turntable had been facing Thomas' berth, and Diesel Ten lifted his claw as if to point at the E2.

"What do you want from me?" Thomas asked, trying not to let the fear creep into his voice.

"What I wanted eleven years ago," the Battleship replied curtly. He rolled forward, getting very close to Thomas. The tank engine could smell the oil on his breath, and the diesel could smell the soot on his adversary's. Diesel Ten bared his fangs and spoke.

"I want an apology for dumping me into that barge."

"Is that what that's all about?" Gordon scoffed. "You could've asked for one any time."

"You stay out of this, sausage," Diesel Ten spat. Gordon bristled at the unflattering nickname he'd thought was long-forgotten. "This is more than just that. That's just for when Thomas mistreated me. I want an apology not just for me, but for all diesels on Sodor."

"Even the horrid ones?" James asked skeptically.

"Well, not really. I mean for the constant sidelining of dieselkind all over this island. While you get the prestige, we get the toil. While you get the big budgets, we have to fight over the scraps. THAT is what I want answers to."

"I feel I could best answer this," Edward said quietly. Diesel Ten backed up and manually rotated the turntable with his claw to face the older engine. "The Dieselworks...unfortunately, we'd always had trouble locating people trained enough to work with Lifers in general. Not just you. And the people at the Dieselworks were too afraid of being turned down if they asked for more money, so it just festered to the point of collapse. May I assume you had similar fears if you asked Sir Topham Hatt as well, and that is why you took over the Steamworks?"

"Yes," Diesel Ten confirmed, eying the man in question. "But what about the other times?"

"Remember that film crew who came here for a few years until recently?"

"Yes, they seemed to not like me."

"We needed to cover the losses from our constant accidents. A TV network was interested in having us act out little stories for children, and we were so desperate we agreed to do anything." Edward sighed. "A mistake on our part. We all had to act like human children and go on complicated, stupid adventures."

"Those were dark times," Henry remembered.

"All that rhyming..." Percy shuddered.

"They discriminated based on power source, too. Ever wonder why only Stafford is the known electric engine on Sodor, with the entire Peel Godred fleet never getting even a second of screentime? Blame them. And they made us act that way, too, especially around diesels. They never told you, evidently."

"They're gone now," Emily sighed. "But we're still recovering the broken pieces. I hope you can understand."

"Uh, duh, I'm the most intelligent engine here," Diesel Ten scoffed. "I do, I do know. Just...I was bullied a lot by steam engines back at Mesa Roja and...I wanted to be sure it never happened again. The Magic Railroad thingy was a scam, by the way; the Angry Grape can tell you more."

"...You did not just call me that," Lady deadpanned.

"It's a free country," the diesel shot back. Lady rolled her eyes, but she chuckled a little to herself.

"Well, it's getting late, and I don't know if we're even–" Thomas began.

Diesel Ten cut him off with a mighty blast of his horn. Not his main horn, but a second one akin to those of other diesels made by EMD for use in long-distance travel. It was very loud, and the sudden noise made everyone jolt in surprise. Thomas looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"NOW we're even!" Ten cackled wickedly. "See you tomorrow guys! I'll keep Gordon's berth nice and toasty for him!" He reversed and left as quickly as he'd come, laughing his way down the line.

"..."

"Henry, I can't blink," Gordon said as the Steam Team slowly processed what just happened.

"Me either," his half-brother agreed.

What a guy, Lady thought. Only Toby noticed the subtle blush spreading across her face.

"Looks like Lady's found her tramp," he smirked to himself.

The next day, Diesel Ten was idling at the Dieselworks while Billy rambled.

"Oh man, I've got to take care of Thomas' branchline right or he'll never let me hear the end of it!" Billy wheeshed. "I gotta do everything right, and not rushed, and–"

"Dude, calm your buffers," Diesel Ten replied coolly. "Don't worry, just listen to the advice of others and you'll be fine."

Billy sighed. "Sorry Ten, but I just get so excited sometimes. How about you?"

"Meh, not really. I lost the ability a while ago."

Billy looked at him sadly. "Say, D10?" he asked suddenly.

"Shoot."

"So, your old railway...what was it like coming there?"

Diesel Ten looked off into the distance.

"...Unusual."

October 24, 1984. Nick was just fifteen days old, and he was already witnessing something his builders hoped he wouldn't until a lot later in his development: anger.

"I'm telling you, he isn't ready yet!" Ms. Mitton exclaimed.

"And I'M telling you I want that diesel NOW! We've waited on that order since last year!" a mysterious man bellowed.

"We weren't expecting him to be a Lifer! You know we have to wait longer until their personality's completely formed!"

"Excuses, excuses." He turned to the diesel. "You! Where do you think you're going to be?"

"On a railway," Nick replied simply. Despite being an American by birth, he'd inherited his British builder's speech pattern.

"WHICH?"

"I don't know...Conrail?"

"No. You were commissioned for MY railroad, the Mesa Roja railroad in New Mexico. I expect you to depart for there TODAY!" He left.

Nick looked at his builder. "Is that true?"

"Yes, it is. I was hoping he'd be more patient, but he isn't," Mitton sighed. "He and his administration are a disgrace to Mesa Roja. They were a fine line when they first opened, but now they're a shadow of their past self. Nick, I implore you, remember that no matter who you are, there will be someone who loves you. And remember, your claw is never meant to harm anyone."

"I will."

Mitton collapsed onto his right buffer and wept. "I'll miss you, son."

Two days later and Nick had arrived at Mesa Roja. He'd been repainted in the railroad's colors, a light periwinkle-blue with two curving white stripes and the line's logo. His claw was now painted a deep, regal purple to go with it.

"I guess this is the place," he said to his driver as they approached a station. His driver didn't speak much, but Nick felt an affirmative thump on the back of the seat. Unlike most other diesel locomotives built in his generation, Nick could be manned by only one person. Granted, Lifers could move themselves, but they needed a crew to actually start.

A black USRA Heavy Mikado with blue accents on his tender puffed up next to him. "So I take it you're the new guy," he said, a slight Japanese accent to his voice. "I'm Mikado, one of the original engines."

"Nice to meet you, Mikado. My name is–"

"Diesel Ten," came another voice. A diesel locomotive with the railroad's colors had arrived. He was an old diesel, an ALCO RS-1, and his face had a worn-out look. A white D1 was painted on his side. "Come, I will show you around."

At the end of the day, Diesel One and Nick were alone. "Follow me, our sheds are this way."

"That's odd. Why are all our sheds so far away?"

"Not all our sheds. Just the diesel ones."

At this Nick's eyes narrowed. "Okay, that's it. What's the problem? Why can't we use our names? Why do we constantly get crap like this?" A sense of injustice was breeding in the young engine.

"You're young. Very young. But it's time you learned about the discrimination many diesel Lifers face. See, humans discovered that compared to steamers, diesels are cheaper to fix, cheaper to build, and cheaper to fuel. In the name of efficiency, many steamers were slaughtered."

"And they blame us for that?"

"Bingo. Many parts of the world, the remaining steam engines don't know why they're being replaced, and the diesels and electrics gain a sense of hubris. Not in the United States, though. We know why we're here. We know about human greed. But even then, some of us still suffer."

Diesel One looked at Nick. "We're out of earshot, we're safe. My actual name is Alex. I came here with Diesel Two, Nichole, and a B unit named Schenectady, Diesel Zero because he can't move by himself, to avoid scrapping. Under the original management of the railway we were accepted and respected. Then our original managers had to retire in 1968, and their replacements were...well, you're still too green to hear what they are."

"I was originally green."

Alex chuckled. "And I was once red, for I worked the Soo Line before my escape. Come, let's meet the others."

Indeed, the other diesels had left their sheds and were looking over Nick curiously. Nick was a little uncomfortable because of this.

Diesel Two, Nichole, was a GE 44-ton switcher who looked about as old as Alex. Diesel Three was a male Baldwin AS-616. Diesel Four was a male EMD NW2. Diesel Five was a male EMD FP9. Diesel Six was a female ALCO Century 424 whose face had some Hispanic features. Diesel Seven was a male EMC TA who looked even older than Alex and Nichole. Diesel Eight was a female EMD FP45. And Diesel Nine was a female EMD GP9 who, unbeknownst to Diesel Ten, had originally serviced Muffle Mountain before being taken from it five months earlier.

Diesel Three looked at Nick, then at the other diesels. "Yeah, this kid's gonna do just fine."

In the present, Gordon rolled his eyes at Knapford station. "What's wrong?" Emily asked. The Steam Team had gathered there with many trucks of various sorts to take to Peel Godred.

"I'm not exactly looking forward to working with engines with so much energy," Gordon grumbled. "I've met quite a few electrics back when my trains went to the mainland. And the lot of them are practically hummingbirds on wheels."

"Well, not all electric engines are like that," Edward remembered. "The EF1s certainly aren't."

"Especially Wattson. He never liked getting up early," Henry chuckled.

Sir Topham Hatt walked to the front of the station. "My friends, you have served the NWR very well over the last century, and I hope you will continue for many years more. For now, you are going to help this railway push further into the modern day. We are going to electrify Sodor and the crew of Peel Godred shall run free at last!

"Do not worry, my friends; these fine eight won't be gone long. And their relief engines I'm sure you'll find really useful indeed!"

The relief crew showed up. Timothy and BoCo smiled at each other. Billy gulped. Derek, Molly, and Murdoch nodded at each other. Lady nervously shifted her eyes; she'd been assigned to cover for Rosie. And last of all, Diesel Ten smiled broadly, his claw retracted.

"And of course, our guests from Switzerland will be helping us too!"

"James!" Jamie exclaimed.

"Jamie?" James asked. His jaw dropped when he saw his sister. "You're alive! I'm so – who's that guy?"

"Guten tag, friend!" Zap beamed. "I vas her boyfriend! Now I am husband. Good girl, oui?"

"...Okay, we are so talking when I get back," James said finally to his sister.

"Let us wish our friends well as they go on their next adventure!" Hatt finished. The people cheered, and the eight engines left the station.

"So when does the express start?" Diesel Ten asked after a moment's silence.

"Once they get onto the branchline, because otherwise it won't be safe," Timothy explained. "We'll get a phonecall when it's time."

"Sounds good to me. Now where do they put the coaches?"

"Stafford normally handles them."

"Nah, not today. It's time I get off my bogies and boogie."

"...What?"

Since Henry and Edward knew the way, they led the expedition. The eight engines broke off the main line and followed the tracks into the mountains that surrounded the way to Sodor's Heart, the island's geographic center and the location of the village of Peel Godred. The line was devoid of trees and much plant life, akin to the patch of small desert where the Vicarstown Dieselworks was located; unlike that area, which had dried out as the result of human-caused deforestation, this place was naturally dry.

"Where're all the trees?" Percy asked.

"They can't grow in this area, obviously," Gordon replied. "We're surrounded on all sides by mountains. The clouds can't go over them, so it rarely rains here."

"But that's why Peel Godred is here and not somewhere else," Henry continued. "The poles holding up the power lines could be knocked over by trees if there's a bad storm. So a place without trees is perfect for an electric line." To prove his point, it was there that the catenary lines began.

"And yet that inspector wants us to electrify the entire island's railway," Gordon grumbled. "The fool. But we have no ability to protest. Our duty is only to carry out our orders."

The engines passed through a narrow tunnel bored through the tallest of the mountains. On the other side was a railyard not unlike Knapford's. Scuttling about were four black EF1s, outlined with different colors to tell them apart – mint green, medium red, grape purple, and sky blue. Barking orders was a modified black Seaton Tramway tram sitting inside a green truck.

"Beetle, you could let up for once," the truck grunted.

"But Bailey, our work at Peel Godred is never done!" the tram replied snappily. He had a militant demeanor about him. "We must stay vigilant so we can provide for all!"

"I meant because we have guests," she replied.

"Oh! Look lively, everyone! We have steamers here today, and – Henry and Edward, old beans! I thought you'd forgotten us!" The EF1s quickly halted what they were doing and hurried over.

"We'd never forget you!" Edward chuckled. "Hello again, Faraday!"

The green EF1 smiled. "Hello again, Edward. Are these the friends you've spoken so fondly about?"

"Indeed they are!"

"I think I can tell who Thomas is," the red one muttered. "He's got that bit of a hero syndrome. I can feel it." Thomas looked confused at this.

"I thought you were going to tell us who James is because you both have that arrogant swagger," the purple one, the only female among the EF1s, mused slyly.

"Jouleia, I assure you, there is nothing wrong with my facial recognition abilities, THANK YOU VERY MUCH."

"Are they always like this?" Percy asked the blue one.

"Yeah, even after as many times as they've made up." The blue one was obviously very shy.

"Well, allow me to introduce ourselves," the green one, Faraday, said. "I am Faraday, the first of the locomotives. My siblings are Wattson in red, Jouleia in purple, and Heisenberg in blue." This was also the order of their numbering. "Beetle speaks for himself."

"Tally ho!"

"Yes, thank you, Beetle."

"Isn't he the engine who worked for the Ministry of Defense during the second World War?" Gordon asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Indeed he is," Jouleia confirmed. "Used to ferry military personnel and did a little shunting too. 'Course, after the war his line closed, and we bought him to keep the trucks in line. He's narrow-gauge, so he can't actually move here."

"Pardon me asking, but...there seems to be a lot more work than you four alone can handle," Emily said.

"You're right about that," Wattson grumbled. "We're old. Faraday turned a hundred a few years back, and me and Jouleia's centenary is next year. We can't do as much anymore. So that's why we have help."

A horn blasted its way as two new engines came. They were Class 303 multiple units, Caledonian blue and with yellow faces on the front car, the only such car to be alive of their formations. They were obviously twins, but unlike most of the twin engines on Sodor of the same sex, they were fraternal: the one numbered 6 had a thicker chin and nose than the one numbered 7.

"Thunder and Lightning, our passenger engines. Thunder is #6, Lightning is #7," Faraday said.

"G'd aft'rnoon," Thunder rasped, his voice loud and deep.

"Greetings." Lightning's voice was softer and colder.

"And of course, we got too old for freight eventually, too. So we had two 86's come over to round it out." A blue Class 86 nervously rolled in. His face was also yellow. He was numbered 9. "Nikola, where's your sister?"

"I don't know where Lucy is," he replied. "But she's got to be coming here soon. Oh, never mind, here she is."

The line rumbled. A high-pitched honk punctuated the air as an older, orange-painted Class 86 bounded over. There was only one word coming from her thick lips:

"HENRY!"

MOAR ENGINE DIVERSITY!

Will Lucy and Henry's relationship be explored? Why did the GP9 end up at Mesa Roja? And will Gordon ever not be stuck up?

All this and more in the next chapter – Sugar, Sugar!