The engines braced themselves. Lucy pulled down her pantograph so the only thing powering her forward motion was her momentum. Eventually, though, she ran out of that, and gently biffed into Henry's front buffers. "Oh, Henry, it's been way too long! I haven't seen you in forever! Like the new shape, by the way."
Henry's face had completely flushed scarlet. "U-uh...thanks. I...got it after an accident."
"I heard!" Lucy grimaced. "Poor thing. C'mon, we've got a lot of catching up to do." She raised her pantograph and reversed, Henry nervously following.
"...I never thought I'd see the day where Henry of all engines has a girlfriend," James said finally.
"Good for him, then. Every engine deserves someone special," Thomas replied, smiling broadly.
"He knows that but is still completely clueless to our advances on him?" Emily muttered to Rosie.
Faraday chuckled. "Yes, Lucy's always had a soft spot for your No. 3. But I think a reunion isn't why you're here, is it?"
"Indeed it isn't!" A middle-aged woman approached the engines. She was tall and lanky and had wild black hair. "I'm Esther Mayberry, the Frizzed Controller. Hatt's been told by an inspector to electrify the NWR, and we're going to help them."
"'lectr'fy the NWR, eh? 've always wanted to see beyond the m'ntain," Thunder pondered. "B't it's a bit strange 'n 'nspect'r wants that, innit?"
"Indeed, my brother. There may be sinister reasons behind it that we do not know of," Lightning agreed, not knowing he'd hit the nail right on the head. "Still, an order is an order. Come, let us take you to the place where we get our wires."
That afternoon, Oliver whistled as he pulled into Knapford Yard. "Hello, everyone! I'm here for my train!"
"Comin' right up, jailbird!" 'Arry, who was working in the yard that day, chuckled as he backed up to fetch the line of boxcars Oliver was meant to take.
"MUST you remind me of that horrid time of my life?" Oliver grumbled.
"Hey, you escaped the worst scrapyard in England, that takes a lotta guts and I respect an engine who can pull that off," 'Arry replied casually.
"Well, Douglas helped."
"You and Bert aren't half-bad," Lady commented as she took away a stone train. "Thanks BoCo!" she called to the train's source.
"You're welcome!" he replied as he departed.
'Arry laughed. "Well, we were worse, but nothing a little psychiatrist couldn't fix."
"PSYCHIATRIST?!" Diesel Ten, who was refueling under the rickety derrick, exclaimed. "Why didn't I get one of those?!"
"What were Splodge for?" 'Arry grunted as he shoved the train into Oliver.
"Ow! Careful, 'Arry, those cars are full of powdered sugar. And we really don't want to have to clean that up," Oliver said.
Diesel Ten stiffened. "You okay, big diesel?" Philip asked as he passed.
"Yeah, just...suddenly remembered I had a thing to do elsewhere...something involving ironing a dog or something." He quickly fled.
"Ha!" Charlie chuckled. "He's afraid of a little sugar!"
"Hey, be nice! He got really badly hurt by sugar a long time ago!" Lady snapped.
"Oh, what's the big deal? He can recover!"
"He was young when it happened. That kind of stuff stays with you for the rest of your life, you violet vagrant." She rolled her eyes and left to attend to another train, mumbling angry gibberish under her breath while Stone tried to calm her down.
"She is right, you know," Oliver said as he left the yard.
"Ohhh, why does everyone have to take her side?" Charlie growled to himself. Then he spotted the rickety old derrick, how it was precariously clutching the edge of collapse. A naughty idea flew into his funnel. "Maybe it'll take a joke to get them to see straight..."
"Isn't it weird how we've never seen this part of the line, even though we've been up to Whiff's dump a lot of times?" Percy asked that night. The Steam Team had gathered outside the Peel Godred roundhouse. Beetle had been brought over too in Bailey, and they were in their own special shed.
"This is the other side. The Peel Godred Branchline is actually a narrow, giant loop. You're familiar with the non-electrified side, which goes through the valley to the south end of Peel Godred. This is the electrified side, which has more access to the north end of Peel Godred, the other inner towns, and the old Mid-Sodor railway," Jouleia explained.
"Pity it had to close, I rather liked Atlas," Faraday mused.
"Should we take him along once we all leave?" Gordon asked, pointing his eyes at Beetle.
"Depends, soldier. Do you know of any narrow-gauge lines with an electric third rail?"
"Not particularly. I take it that's how you get your power?"
"Indeed it is!"
"Beetle does a good job of keeping my brothers and sisters in line, so I think no," Bailey explained.
"It was worth a shot. He'd fit in well at Knapford."
At Tidmouth, Toby was visiting the relief engines. "I take it everyone's first day went well?"
"Yeah, I forgot how much I liked doing the local passenger service," Molly agreed.
"James would be proud," Jamie smirked. "Though I do hope you stick around. James needs people to keep him in line and remind him that where he is now is actually pretty good."
"Well, I usually work at Tidmouth Harbor, but I can ask the dock manager if I can help out here every now and then."
Diesel Ten entered Gordon's berth and parked; he was the last engine there. "Okay, chumps, who's telling tonight's story?"
"Ooh! I have zhe best one about zhe Sveedish pickles!"
"Zap, they're not ready for the pickle incident yet."
"But Jamie, zhis is Sodor! Shtupidity happens on zhe hour here! I zhink zhey could handle zhat at least."
"Please don't remind me about the twins at this time of night," BoCo groaned.
"Hey, why doesn't Diesel Ten tell us a story?!" Everyone looked at Billy. "He's full of them!"
"And I am curious about the reason behind your saccharophobia," Derek added.
Diesel Ten sighed. "You really want to hear that?"
Everyone looked at him eagerly.
Ten sighed. "Alright, but no laughing."
"It was April 7, 1985. Easter Sunday. And some of the engines got a special treat."
"Hello, what do we have here?" a gray ATSF 3460 named Angela asked. A group of steam engines were at Lordsburg Station on the Mesa Roja line, which connected it to the now-former Southern Pacific Railroad, and they'd been approached by a bunch of children.
"We have sugar for you to burn instead of coal!" the Sunday school teacher said. The children handed a sack of powdered sugar to her crew, then went on to the other engines.
Chuck, a green PRR J1, shuddered happily as the sugar burned. "Ahhhh, that's the stuff!"
"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" a blue CNR U4a named Vinnie (one of Nick's more regular tormentors) agreed.
In the background, three diesels and two electrics watched, having finished with their work.
"Man, this is one of those days where I wish I could actually eat stuff," Zach groaned.
"I hear you," Doris, a Great Northern W1, agreed.
"Not us," Diesel Three, real name Quentin, grunted.
"Why not?" Nick asked.
"Because our engines are meant for liquid fuel. Small particles like grains of sugar clog them and keep us from moving. Margarita, you got caught in a sandstorm once, you know all about that."
"Si, me duele toda la cuerpo," Diesel Six, real name Margarita, agreed gravely. Nick counted himself lucky that all engines could understand any language.
"Yeah, we need to stay away from that stuff."
"Oh."
Quentin shrugged. "Anyway, we gotta go get ready for our next train. Catch you later, Ten." He, Margarita, and the electrics left.
Nick began to reverse, when he heard a voice. "Excuse me? Diesel?"
"What is it?" Nick sighed, stopping as a potential passenger approached him.
"I saw you missing out on the sugar. Would you like some?"
"No thanks, I've heard it's bad for me...sir, what are you – sir, please step away from my fuel tanks, you're not certified–"
And then the worst pain Nick had ever felt ripped through his body, like fire and lightning wrapped up into one. He shrieked, and then began to cry.
"Yeah!" the man sneered. "You diesels think you're so high and mighty, don't you? Well, here's what's comin' for ya!"
"I've had a fear of the stuff ever since," Diesel Ten sighed.
"That's awful! They can't treat engines like that! That's inhutrain!" Timothy spluttered.
"Management didn't care," Diesel Ten replied.
"It's still not right," Lady said. "No engine deserves that treatment. Especially an innocent one like you."
Diesel Ten smiled sadly at this.
An hour later, the rest of the engines were asleep, and Diesel Ten looked at the night sky. He found the constellation of Hercules, and recounted the rest of the incident, which he hadn't disclosed.
A horn blared. Tears still trickling down, Nick saw Diesel Nine, real name Cressida, at the platform. She was dropping off some gondolas and had seen everything. "Sir, stop that! You're hurting him!"
"Or what? Diesels will never be as good as steam engines," the man scoffed.
That did it. The man felt a buffer (which by the '80s all engines had, as Lifers were found to have less accidents if they had them) tap his back, and when he turned around, he jumped. Cressida had snuck up on him. "I'm not going to repeat myself. This is a breach of privacy and it is discrimination based on power source. We didn't ask to be made, but you have to accept that we were. Now, LEAVE HIM ALONE! And if I see you doing that to us ever again, I will PERSONALLY run you down! You may think you're special because you're human, but I'm an almost 130-ton machine that can outrun you by a factor of two. The only thing stopping me is my lack of full autonomy and my conscience. Understood?"
The man gulped and ran away. Cressida sighed and turned to Nick. "Sorry about that. You okay?"
Nick sniffled. "N-no..."
"Thought so. Don't worry, I'll get you cleaned up."
In the present, Diesel Ten sighed wistfully. "Oh, Cressida..."
So yes, she does have a name. Fun fact: in the first draft it was going to be revealed later on.
More of Diesel Ten's past has been revealed. What will happen when the Steam Team returns? What's P. T. Boomer doing? And what other stupid puns will I come up with?
All this and more in the next chapter – Building a New World!