Much thanks to all of you! Oh, and terroroftherailway, fingers crossed you'll like what I've done with Arry and Bert. Also, for the record, not as many jokes this time. This is a rather serious episode, and I want to show my love for it.
Cue the theme!
...
1990.
"Have the experiments shown any sign of improving, doctor?"
The doctor polished his glasses nervously. "I-indeed sir. The blueprints you gave us were very thorough, very...er, very easy to understand as well. It took us some time, but I believe we have stable copies of the engines that you have requested."
The Fat Director strode forward, towards the large docking bay. He could just make out the strange, shadowy figures, covered in tarpaulins and being loaded onto wagons. "How many did you get?"
"Well sir, the-the diesels were far easier to do, save for the one you mentioned as 'D2'. She has been missing for quite a w-w-while now, so we had to make due with D1, D3 and D4."
"Very good. And the steam engines?"
The doctor's tongue clicked. "Those are more...problematic. We have created successfully stable clones, using the same material, however they will need a great deal more testing than the diesels. I would not put them to work for another year, at least."
"Another year." The Fat Director's hands locked together in a steeple. "Well-" he murmured to himself "-we knew the plan was going to be delayed a bit. And the steam engines may prove more useful in the future than at present. I still have barely a foothold on the Island itself, I can't send them-" He stopped, and turned back, looking the German doctor directly in the eye. "And the failures?"
The doctor tried not to shudder. "They have been...disposed of."
"Good. You have done well doctor. You have taken charge of my team in a most effective manner. They have been prepared, just in case more copies need to be made?"
"Indeed, Herr Director."
"Well then, go! Enjoy your reward!"
The doctor scurried out, happy to leave the Fat Director's presence. The Director himself rubbed his chin, lost in thought for a moment. He looked out.
Operation Facade had long since been a goal of his. Since he had discovered the Island of Sodor, he had long since wanted to expand the Other Railway over there. What he had neglected to tell many who worked and lived there was that they were beginning to run out of the magic needed to create the unique conditions for sentient engines. But the Island had been old in 1943, and yet it still chuffed on. The engines he made would be a good way to get spies onto the Island.
Still though, he held back. He knew that one day there'd be a proper use for them, but until then...he would put the three diesels to work. And then he would attempt to get Boomer back on track with his own search. He pressed down on the intercom button. "Captain?"
"Aye."
"Is Doctor Gurtzer in his car?"
"Aye, he and his Bosch father."
"Good...go ahead."
The explosion was never really looked into. The doctor and his father, having survived the Third Reich and all the horrors, perished in a car accident just outside the massive complex that was the Other Railway, and everything was sown up in a nice neat package.
None of the engines knew about this, of course. Doctor Gurtzer and company had never even been on Sodor. But Operation Facade was to make a brief appearance in this next story.
...
PRESENT DAY.
"So how is the Vicar?"
"He's off the sherry, if that's what you mean."
"Oh, that's good-"
"Now he's started on the vodka."
"Ah."
"Kidding. No, he seems determined to make a better impression with his flock now. Nothing but kind, Teddy."
"I know, old chum."
Edward and Trevor had a relatively decent day off, so they spent it chatting away like the old friends they were. Things were rudely interrupted when Douglas came storming past, pulling a train of heavy coal trucks and scowling like someone had thrown his bowl of cornflakes in his face. "Oh fo god's sake Edward! Stop gossipin in the sun! There's work ta be done!"
Edward looked at Douglas's retreating tender with annoyance. "Odd. Usually Donald's the more belligerent one."
"Maybe it's me." Trevor shrugged. "I joke, but some of the other engines tend to get a little edgy around me. I think they believe I'm trying to take their jobs. Just because there are a couple of lorries going around nowadays, you'd think that it was the 50's all over again!"
"Leave it to me. I'll chat with them." Edward glanced over and swore. "Oh for god's sake you can't even look away for a instant- NO BILL! The tankers go on the other side! Don't you wave your buffers at me, young engine, or I'll get BoCo to take away your trucks! What do you mean, Ben's not giving you a turn on the radi- We don't have radio! You do? How? ...Okay, you tell your driver that if he doesn't give it back to Farmer McColl, then he's going to jail!"
...
Later, Edward huffed in with a train full of empty trucks. BoCo had managed to give them to him while he was dealing with a somewhat mopey Ben. He whistled cheerfully to Percy, and glanced over to James on the turntable. "Trucks need to be filled up, ready for Duck, James."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, pretty much. Not a democracy mate." He turned to Douglas. "Listen, Douglas, I wanted to talk to you about earlier."
"Aye."
"Now, Trevor and I are old friends. I would appreciate it greatly if you would be perhaps a tad more polite? I think he gets the idea that you hate him."
"Aye."
Edward frowned. "Douglas, pancake day is being transformed into national Reich celebration day."
"Aye."
"You're saying aye just to get me to leave, aren't you?"
"Aye."
"Come on Douglas! You're not usually like this. Unless you and Donald are pulling that whole 'Missing Coach' stunt again, which quite frankly would be a rather childish trick. I'd expect it from Bill and Ben, rather than you two. Besides, you and Trevor have a great deal more in common than you may think."
"Aye?" Douglas raised a eyebrow a fraction. "What?"
"Scrap." Edward stated, bluntly. He was rewarded when Douglas shuddered backwards violently.
"Don- Don't say that word in front of me, Edward! It makes ma wheels shiver!"
"Sorry Douglas. But Trevor knows exactly what you mean. He doesn't talk about it often, but he was this close from becoming another torn up husk at the old scrapyard down my branch-line. Now, me and the Vicar did manage to save him, and he is really useful, but he gets terrified about going back there even to this day."
"Aye." Douglas said quietly. "I'm sorry Edward. Just that I've had a wee bit of bad news."
"What?"
"I'm, er, being sent out ta the Other Railway tonight to take some deliveries. Henry can't go, he's still busy cleaning out all of that boiler sludge."
"Oh Douglas, I'm sorry." Edward looked ashamed. "I wouldn't have brought scrap up if I'd known."
"Ach, it's fine. Really, it's a simple trip back to the railway and back. I've got my driver and fireman with me, and they've got their own guns. They're ready for anything. I just wish it wasn't just me going."
"I can imagine." Edward shook his head. "Oh I don't know. We've got more engines than I thought we'd ever have, but even so, the Fat Controller does need another steam engine!"
"Aye." Douglas agreed gravely. "And soon."
There was a loud bang, and Edward was showered with coal. He turned to look at James. "Well?"
"How was I supposed to know that the hopper was broken?"
"By the 'Out of Order' sign?"
"I always assume that's more of a suggestion than anything."
"You would."
...
Douglas could feel every creak and every shiver inside the Other Railway's main yard. There was no massive meeting going on like the night that Edward and Toby had been here, but there were still some engines.
The odd thing was that two diesels, labelled D1 and D4, looked a awful lot like Mavis and Diesel. Except somehow not.
It was the eyes. The little way that the eyes looked too glassy to be really real.
With every shunt, he was constantly glancing back to make sure there was no one there to try and get a hold of him. Long experience had kept Douglas alive. He wasn't just a package deal. Donald had helped him, to be sure, but there were just as many times as when he had assisted Donald out of a tight jam. Slowly, he moved the midnight goods train to a further part of the OR Island, this part was where only diesels worked.
D1 moved alongside him, and D3 rested in a shed.
"BoCo?"
D3 turned, and it became very clear to Douglas that this wasn't BoCo, and that speaking had been a massive mistake. Almost as massive as the strange scar that ran down the diesel's face. "Neffa mind!" He huffed, and quickly began backing up to head out of the yard.
He was just shunting some last minute trucks out of the way, ready and willing for the return journey when-
The hiss echoed across the almost silent railway. Douglas tensed up, almost instinctively, and watched in curious horror as every diesel turned their attention towards him.
Tha sounds like a steam engine, he thought quickly. Quietly, he let out a hiss, as if to try and convince the others that it was merely him. They paused, and then went back to work, though D1, D3 and D4 looked at him suspiciously.
The hiss came again, this time it sounded like whoever was doing it was terrified beyond belief. "Quieten down!" Douglas half whispered, half snarled to himself. He cleared his throat, noticed the large tanker of diesel oil and backed up. "Whose there?" He asked quieter this time.
A whisper rang out.
"Are you one of the Fat Controller's engines?"
"Aye! And proud of it! But who are ye?"
The voice, with a West Country burr, sobbed. "Oh thank god! My-My name's er...it's er...it's Oliver! I've got a brake-van, named Toad! We've run out of coal, and have no more steam!"
D3 was moving back down towards them. "Hush!" whispered Douglas, terror in his voice. The scarred diesel looked at him for a moment, then moved on. Once Douglas was sure that he was clear, he glanced back, spotting, just through the mist, a rusty engine, his coloration hard to tell. And if he squinted just hard enough, he could see a weary brake-van, a ugly bruise formed over his left eye. "Then what are ye doing here?"
A bitter laugh arose from Oliver. "Escaping. Or supposed to be. Should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque."
Douglas stared around. Surely the diesels would be coming back. "From what?"
"Scrap."
Douglas shuddered once more, and tried to calm himself down. The odds of Oliver escaping were less and less like actual statistics and more like wishful thinking. He could already feel his own driver and fireman stirring nervously. Then, on a whim, Douglas's fireman rushed over towards Oliver's cab. There, sitting there, were two very weary and tired men. Grabbing hold, he helped them into Douglas's cab, sitting them down and making them as comfy as they could.
"Look." Oliver sounded weary. "You don't have to help. Just please...get Toad out of here. It's my fault that we're even in this situation." He looked down wearily at the shattered remains of the chain wrapped around his neck, and the weeds that had grown during his hiding attempts.
"No Mr Oliver-" slurred Toad, clearly suffering. "I will not leave you behind!"
Douglas bit his lip. And then he remembered Edward's story about Trevor, and he steeled himself. "I'll be glad ta help ya! But both of ya! I shall not be a-leaving any engine behind!"
Oliver stared in shock, the first glimmers of a smile appearing on his face. "R-really?"
"Aye! It'll haff ta look like yer're ready for scrap, and I'll be takin ye!"
The driver, spotting a nearby bucket of paint, hurriedly added more warning signs to Oliver and Toad's body, alongside those already there. The two crewmembers from Oliver were roused, and they were helped into Toad, hiding there.
"Nae time to turn around!" grimly remarked Douglas as he coupled up to Oliver. "It's a risk, but I'll haff to run tender first!" Douglas winced. "And I've only just had mah paint done as well! Gordon'll haff a field day!"
"Gordon?"
"Oh just ye wait Oliver. You know, coming back here, reminds me of how lucky I am to haff escaped the first time! I miss them all! Gordon, Henry, even that bloody prat James! Ah, it'll be grand bringing ye back!"
"You escaped?"
"Another time, perhaps. Come on!"
And they started off.
...
In the sheds, tucked up in their sleep, the engines had no idea of the great danger Douglas was in. They had spent the evening discussing bets on when James would come out of the closet, and how badly England was going to be doing in the next World Cup.
Not Donald though, a odd feeling resided in his tender.
...
Starting off, Douglas was aware of just how bland the Other Railway was. No station names. No workmen bantering. There was nothing unique about it, aside from the smell and the huge and great amount of darkness that seemed to radiate in every corner.
Okay, maybe that was unique to the railway. Douglas didn't know if they had a railway in Essex, but he suspected even that didn't occur there.
The sound of dogs barking brought hi back to the present, and to the situation at hand. He could just about make out several vicious looking guard dogs rattling against a massive cage, fangs bared in what he assumed was the dog equivalent of "OI! GET BACK HERE!" He turned back to look at Oliver, who was very clearly giddy with fright. D1 and D4 were beginning to get antsy, and they glared at Douglas with such hate that he very nearly stopped all together.
They had just cleared the station, when they were stopped.
"Ah ha!" said a rather rude looking fireman "A Great Western! And a brake-van too! We've been looking for them! Can't take them, I'm afraid, chum." He said the last word with a great deal of savagery.
"Ach, but they're all furr us!" exclaimed Douglas's driver. "See for yerself!" The Foreman looked suspiciously at the driver, but walked over quickly. He glanced over Oliver and Toad, with the eye of a expert surgeon.
At last...
"Seems in order. Don't stay too long. We don't take kindly to Scots in these parts."
"Prat." muttered Douglas's fireman as they pulled away once more, free at last. D1 and D4 stared at the three escapees for a moment, trying to think about whether or not to follow them. Douglas took up more speed as they crossed over the industrial area, the area where the Other Railway met a almost abandoned city. He could see the bridge in the distance.
"And that was a close thing!" Douglas muttered, sweat pouring from his brow.
"We've had worse!" smiled Oliver, bravely. "There was one point, after we'd escaped, when we relied solely on the kindness of signalmen to get us by. The control heard about us, a mystery train they called us, and tried to hunt us down. We were able to hide on the old quarry branch for a bit, but we heard everything. Baying hounds, snarling diesels. I won't lie, I almost wet meself."
"Small blame ta ye!" said Douglas with feeling.
And then:
"STEAMER ESCAPING!" came the alarm. "YOO-HOO, YOO-HOO!"
"Are they yodelling?" laughed Douglas, trying to put Oliver at ease. "They can't get us! We've done it!"
"We have?!" Oliver opened his eyes as they rumbled over the bridge just as the sun came up. "We have! WE'RE FREE! Toad, did you-"
"Yes sir! Safe! We've done it!" Toad coughed. "Well, you gentlemen have."
...
Arriving at the Crovan Gate Yard's (which looked a awful lot like the Ffarquhar yards, now that Douglas thought of it) they relaxed.
"We're home!"
"Ssssh!" hissed the fireman. "There are the works! We'll find a place f'Oliver there!"
"Good bye!" called Oliver. "Thank you!"
"Yerr a truly enterprizing engine!" remarked Douglas with feeling, as he backed away.
Oliver sighed.
"Hello there."
Oliver jumped in the air and turned to stare at the strange blue engine in terror.
""Now now, it's okay. I apologize if I startled you."
"You! You were the one that night! At the Other Railway! You saved our lives!"
Edward's eyebrows raised up. "Good heavens! You were one of the scrap engines?! I'm glad you two survived at the very least! Oh, where are my manners? I'm Edward. Welcome to Sodor...Oliver, was it?"
...
"And then what?!"
The other engines were on the edge of their berths as Douglas regaled them with the story.
"And then I left him by Crovan's Gate, I couldnae just bring him to the Fat Controller and present him like a puppy, could I?"
"The Fat Controller will have to know!" James said, thoughtfully.
"No way, James. He was just going to keep him a secret for the rest of time, wasn't he?" Henry said, still in a prickly mood.
"James is right though. And there are words that I never thought I'd say. Douglas should tell him at once!" Gordon added.
"Well here he is!" said a voice. "Now what's this all about?" He turned to his guards. "See, this is why making a dramatic entrance is cool! I could never get that look of fear in their eyes like that!"
"Er, beg pardon sir-" Duck remarked "But we do...er, need another engine, after all. You have said so yourself on many, many occasions in that wise way that you have."
"Suck up." muttered Henry.
"Yes, a steam engine! Not to be racist!" Gordon hurriedly added.
"Well that is a interesting idea. However, unless one is to be found and presented to me, I do not think that I can do that, I am afraid. It should really be saved from scrap as well."
"But sir!" burst out Douglas. "One has!"
"Oh I know."
"YOU TEASE!" Thomas burst out angrily.
"Ahem. Yes. Well. Apologies. Thanks to you Douglas, he's now at the works being mended! Oliver is just what we need for Duck's branch line!"
"Oh good-o. Neighbours."
Everyone whistled loudly.
...
"I wanna see him!"
"Bill! Ben! Act your a- No! Act older than your age!"
Oliver opened his eyes. "Douglas? What-"
"Welcome to the crew, ye bloody enterprising engine!" Douglas laughed. Thomas, Edward, Henry, Gordon, James, Percy, Toby, Donald, Duck, Mavis, BoCo, Bill and Ben all let loose a chorus of whistles and horn blasts. Oliver tried not to let it go to his head and failed.
Now, Oliver and Toad are painted in Great Western colors, completely mended. Duck and Oliver got along splendidly, and worked together brilliantly on their branch-line, despite the good-natured taunts from the other engines. They laughed at first, and called it the Little Western. Both engines liked the name however, and the Little Western it will always be.
The alternative was the 'bloody small green engine' line, so they really had no choice.
...
"And here's a glass ta my brother! The hero of the railway! Douggie, ye made us all verra proud indeed!"
"Here here!" called out the others, as they took a sip of the booze. Douglas grinned and awkwardly nodded. He glanced over at Trevor, who was chatting to Edward and James. The two had made up their quarrel, and were now good friends.
Douglas smiled.
If this was to be his one moment in the limelight, one moment where he wasn't a package deal, he was, in the words of his brother, 'verra proud indeed' too.