Ugh. This episode.
True story, this one is probably going to be my least favorite to write. Fingers crossed, you'll enjoy it a lot more than I am writing this. Mostly because it's just...okay, quick rant. The episode itself is a bit of an oddity. Chronologically, it takes place right after a Season 1 episode, but in the show, it's put slap bang in the middle of Season 4 without any changes, with several engines from Season 2 popping up in it. It's not like with Henry's Elephant, where there was enough changes made. No, this one is a genuine oddity.
For the record, it was either amnesia or this. I'm not sure I made the right choice. At the very least, it does introduce a important plot point for Season 5 and Magic Railroad, and it will give you a hint of things that might be in the future. Any questions will be answered next chapter, that you have, I mean. Put them in the reviews, and I'll try my best to answer them. I'm not surprised if you don't get this chapter at all.
CUE THE THEME.
...
1984.
"You know, for all our bickering, the two of us can really work well together. Shall we form an alliance for the time being? You help me and I help you."
Thomas laughed "Don't think it'll last long"
"No," laughed Gordon.
"But why not? Right you are" agreed Thomas
"Well good. That's settled." said Gordon as he puffed forward, coupled up to Thomas, and buffer to buffer, the allies puffed home to their friends.
Hatt looked around. "Hang on...THEY LEFT US BEHIND."
The men looked at each other and shrugged. "It's been a long day."
"Got a bottle of whiskey in my office."
"Why not?"
And so they departed in Hatt's car.
But little did they notice that the engines had vanished into a strange swirling mass of light.
...
PRESENT DAY.
"When was the first time you ever killed someone?"
Marklin looked up in surprise. Not that he showed it, of course. The quarry itself was silent, so any noise automatically made him a little uneasy. And coming from this bizarre creature besides him...well, it was more than a little interesting. "Why do you ask?"
"Want to see what kind of engine it is I'm following. That fellow in the hat, now. He's a real killer. Seen chaps like him in the war. You'd seat them behind some bloody desk, and you'd never think they'd have the gall to send all those troops to their deaths. But he looks like someone who isn't too afraid to kill. You, on the other hand, are a unknown quantity." Davidson sniffed. His bufferbeam crackled in the evening sky.
Marklin paused. True, they were allies, but he was willing to bet Davidson was holding something back. So why not do the same? "You first, Davidson. What was the first kill you ever made?"
Davidson grinned. It was unpleasant to look at, even by Marklin's standards. "One of the blasted inspectors. Silly little man. Always looked his nose up at me, did he. When I reported my work to him, as I was supposed to, he snapped at me. Told me that what I was thinking of doing was 'unsafe' and 'disturbing' and 'not fit for the war effort'. It was war. He was a fool to think that anything in war is clean. So one day, while that fool of a driver was away hiding in some whorehouse, we met. And when he went to check me over, I gave him a bit of the old one two. One being the electric shock. Two being my wheels over his face." Davidson chuckled, fondly. "I still have no idea which killed him first."
It was the accent, decided Marklin, that made him so uneasy. He had his roots in German mechanics, hence the occasions in the early days when his voice slipped back into his original mother-tongue. But he had watched a lot of old British war films and propaganda, and so on. He had seen the old stereotypical RAF pilot way of speaking in so much media, that hearing it come out of the mouth of Davidson was disconcerting. It was like hearing a voice like, say, Richard Briers, coming out of some muscle bound thug. You just wouldn't equate the two.
"Now it's your turn. What about you?"
"Sir!" One of the Fat Director's workmen rushed up. "Sir, we've picked some things up!"
"Some things?" The ghost raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
"Well, sir, first of all there's a transmission from Mr Boomer-"
"Which can wait." said Marklin, decisively.
"-and then there's some sort of...disturbance. We're not entirely sure what it is. But I think you should come and see!"
Marklin looked at Davidson, who revved up what electricity he had and began to move out. Marklin himself took control of Class 40 and moved after him.
"Here we are, sir." The workmen pointed a shaking finger.
The machine in the center of the quarry was a sort of scanner. It's construction had been to fill a rather important need for the Fat Director, to measure an energy that wasn't recognized by the rest of the world. But it was real. And the proof, as they say, was in the pudding. The pudding in this case being the screen, and the proof-
"What's that?"
"It, my dear Davidson, is a spike of raw energy." Marklin was trying his best to restrain his excitement. He failed. "Mein gott! Can it be?" He muttered to himself in German.
On the screen, there was a scale to track the level of the energy they were looking for. At first, and if you were to look back, you woulds see only a single line, not moving, not rising or falling. But the part they were looking at showed a violent blue spike that reached higher than the scale and the scanner could go.
"What type of energy?!"
Marklin grinned savagely at Davidson. "Time, my friend." He let out a rattling laugh. "Time itself!"
...
While he was making this cryptic comment, Bluff's Cove stayed still. Silent. Tranquil.
And then, slowly, something twinkled in the air. Not in the sky, where the first stars were beginning to come out. No, nearer to the ground, a few feet above the rails. This twinkle turned into a sparkle. The sparkle turned into a flicker. And then-
It is a shame, really, that the only people who witnessed what came next were a few seagulls. For all of a sudden, there was a great sound like the tearing of something great, and where the flicker had been, there was now a vast and glowing portal. It seemed to ripple outwards, streams of some strange sort of energy reaching out and crackling with great ferocity. First blue, then green, then orange, then gold, then colors that no one alive or dead could define.
For this emerged two figures. Two figures from the past. But yet, two very familiar figures.
Gordon the Big Engine, and Thomas the Tank Engine were puffing buffer to buffer back home. Neither engine knew, for how could they, that home for them was ten years ago. It had been a busy day for both of them. First, Thomas had teased Gordon about the time he had slid into a ditch. That really took out of him. And then Thomas had fallen into a mine, and Gordon had came to the rescue. It had taken a lot out of Gordon, because Thomas back then was fat.
And now they were chatting away without realizing just how much things had changed.
"Remember Thomas! United we stand, divided we fall! Our alliance must be strong! You help me, I help you!"
"I'm still going to mock the crap out of you!" Thomas hissed as he continued to chew his gum. He missed his cigarettes. "I know, I know, okay? I'll remember. Just hope that Fatty decides to forgive and forget soon."
"Yeah, I really don't want to have to go begging to him again."
As they entered Tidmouth Sheds, they were surprised to see most of the main engines gathered there. That wasn't the most shocking thing either. Everywhere they looked they saw paint pots and painters, hanging up bunting and hurriedly slathering walls and doors alike with bright pastel colors. The engines were practicing getting their teeth shined.
"Bloody bust my blinking buffers!" said Thomas the Alliterative Engine. "What's happening?!"
"SSSH!" hissed Percy. "Fat Controller's going to tell us now! I hope. If he ever gets used to standing on Duck's boiler."
"WHO!?" shouted Gordon. He had never heard of such a silly name for an engine.
"Ha ha, you're hysterical." said Duck, who was getting rather peeved at the idea of being used for a public podium. Hatt coughed.
"Ladies, gentlemen, engines and whatever the hell James is."
"SCREW YOU, SIR!"
"I am honored, nay, humbled to inform you that Her Majesty the Queen is coming to visit us with the rest of the Royal Family. I was so humbled I stabbed myself with the letter opener while I read it." Hatt let the gasps of shock die away, before continuing. "Now with the preperations. We are going to be having one of you lot taking the train, and let me tell you, it's going to be a nightmare trying to work out the arrangements, so if you don't mind, I've got to drink a lot of coffee to keep me going."
As he left, the engines became very excited and chatted to each other at great speed, especially about who would pull the Royal Train.
"Too old to pull the royal train." said Edward glumly, for he was fond of the Royal Family.
"Won't be me." grunted Gordon. "I'm in disgrace."
"No you're not, you're on Sodor!" Percy laughed. No one else did. "Wait, aren't you supposed to be back in London doing a photoshoot?"
"The hell are you on about-"
"It'll be me of course!" gushed James. "Who else could it possibly be?! I shall be magnificent in the role that I was born to play!"
"You!?" snorted Henry. "Don't make me laugh. You can't climb hills."
"And you're a pri-"
"It'll be me! I'm the best choice. And I shall have a new coat of paint! So boo, and boo to you!"
"So who the hell is that guy?" Thomas nodded his head towards Duck.
"Hysterical." Duck gave a slightly mocking laugh, which died down the second he saw that both Gordon and Thomas were looking at him very strangely. "Come on guys, stop messing about."
"Messing about!?" Gordon bristled. "The hell is he to be making such crude remarks about my character! Pah! He's only a silly little tank engine, right guys?"
"Gordon, are you feeling well?" James said with some concern.
Suddenly, there was a crackle of something. Toby looked to the side, and frowned as his driver rushed over to grab hold of the old radio. As the static crackled and crinkled, one could faintly here voices.
"Hello!"
"We should have told them this sooner."
"Gordon, hush!"
Everyone stared at the radio. Then at the two engines. Then at the radio. The two engines were dumbfounded. For the two voices were, unmistakenly, Thomas and Gordon.
"All right, now listen up, you lot. Hi. We're still in London. So we probably should have told you guys prior to this, but, er, quite frankly, we're not entirely sure that we've got this right. Am I correct in saying that there are two engines claiming to be myself and Thomas over there?"
"Er, hello!" said 'Thomas' who was looking more than a little baffled.
"See, Gordon, I told you it wasn't a dream!"
"Stow it, Thomas!" Gordon, the one on the radio, cleared his throat. "All right, listen up. The engines that you're seeing right now? Those are us from about ten years ago, give or take. Not too long after the mine incident. In fact, I dare say that they've just come from that, right?"
"R-R-Right." said a very confused 'Gordon'.
"So. What happened was that we were on our way home, minding our own business, and then, er, well, we traveled in time." There was a pause to let that sink in for a second. "Yeah. So, listen, we remember what happened next. All you have to do is wait for the next few days, and while we're away in London, Past-Thomas and Past-Gordon will be doing whatever important stuff needs to be done."
"This is very confusing." muttered James.
"Don't we know it?" interrupted Thomas (the one on the radio) "But them's the breaks. Not too long though."
"Ciao!"
And with that, the radio flickered off, leaving the engines with many questions. The foremost being:
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!?"
...
The next day, the rain came. This made everyone feel even worse, not least the very, very stressed out Past-Thomas and Past-Gordon who were feeling really out of sorts. There had been a great deal of screaming. And panic. And worse. As the engines got ready for the Queen's visit, the two engines from the past were shoved away to make sure that no paradoxes proceeded to break the universe in five.
Henry was waiting in the siding for the news about his taking the Queen to be officially confirmed. At the first sign of rain, his driver and fireman grabbed a tarpaulin to cover up their cab and keep themselves dry. They watched with amusement as the painter on the ladder above them struggled gamely to try and finish painting the arches of Knapford.
Henry's smoke blew high into the air. Not on purpose, mind you. The painter couldn't see, and somehow (SOMEHOW) managed to fall backwards, paintpot and all, off his ladder. Luckily, he hit the tarpaulin (Unluckily giving the driver a major concussion). His paint-pot, on the other hand, landed straight on Henry's dome.
Poor Henry. Poor dumb, stupid Henry.
"Well, you're not a pretty picture!" said another painter, who was secretly disappointed that his sabotage of his rival's ladder hadn't injured he in any other ways.
"WELL AREN'T WE COMEDIANS!" snapped Henry.
"You look like an ice cake, Henry. That's not going to cut it for the Royal Train. You're out, I'm afraid, mate."
"You're an asshole, sir."
"Time to make other arrangements." Hatt skipped off to behind the station, where Past-Thomas and Past-Gordon were waiting. Past-Gordon had convinced Past-Thomas that they needed to get the honor of becoming the Royal Train, even if they had little to no idea what was going on. Just like the readers at home!
"Please sir-"
"One at a time!" snapped Hatt. His head hurt from the explanation from the other engines the previous night. "Gordon?"
"Can Thomas have his branch-line, please, sir?"
"OH FOR-" The Fat Controller bit down his tongue. It couldn't go easily, could it? It just had to be a nightmare on a big scale, didn't it? Fine. Play along with it, Hatt old boy. "It's your lucky day! I think you're both very sorry, and you deserve a treat!"
"We're getting ice cream!" said Past-Thomas joyfully.
"Edward's going in front to clear the line, Thomas takes care of the coaches and, YOU, Gordon, shall pull the special train."
"...Can we get ice cream then?"
"Oh for the love of- YES!"
...
The next few days passed in a whirlwind of excitement, as engines big and small alike got all the jobs done as quickly as possible. There should be no distractions for her majesty and company. Past-Thomas shunted every single coach needed, and the many that weren't, just in case something should go wrong. Past-Gordon was enjoying himself enormously, it wasn't always that he got to get a huge pampering.
At last, the day came, and as the engines awaited, they spotted Edward. The mixed traffic engine was in a great to-do, looking for all the world like all his birthdays had come at once.
"PEEP! PEEP PEEP! THE QUEEN IS HERE!"
"That's not a nice way to talk about Gordon."
"Shut up, James. Get over it."
The signal dropped. And then HE arrived. Everyone knew the sound. As the train practically glided into the station, the big blue engine, who was looking even more smug than usual, beamed to the others. His coat was spotless, his brass shone like gold and even the weird tackiness of all of the decorations couldn't detract from the amazing look of him. As he drew level, the Fat Controller smartened himself up one final time, before opening the carriage door.
"M'am." he muttered as he bowed, nose practically scraping the floor. As she stepped out, followed by her family, Toby and Percy lost control of themselves and began peeping aloud.
"SSSH!" hissed Henry and James. But neither Toby or Percy gave a hoot.
"THREE CHEERS FOR THE QUEEN!"
And because Sudrians are a patriotic lot, they let lose a chorus of whistles and cheers that echoed around the station. The Queen gave her stately wave, while the Queen Mother immediately went off in search of some rum, and found a kindred spirit in Edward in that regard.
...
"The queen's here!"
"I've noticed, thank you, Drampf."
"But, look, can't we just-"
"Kill her? Now? Here? You want the bloody island to be crawling with boys in blue, do you?!" Davidson's expression was that of someone who had long since worked out that he was the only sane man in a crowd of imbeciles. "No, I think we need to take a look at where that energy comes from?"
And so, leaving the engines to celebrate with the Royals, Marklin and Davidson slipped away down to Bluff's Cove. And there they stood, right in front of the glowing portal, speechless.
But not for long.
"What happens next?"
"I-" And here Marklin hesitated, for the first time in what felt like forever. "I am not entirely sure."
They stared once more at the great swirling vortex.
"Do you think-" said Davidson, very carefully "-that if we were to head into this, we would return to the past, or-"
"I don't know. I genuinely don't know."
Silence reigned once again.
"Well-" Marklin shrugged. "-I've been dead before."
And he entered the vortex.
...
The Queen had talked to Past-Thomas, who had fetched her coaches and had flirted with her, which now meant that he had to duel Prince Phillip or something. Then she spoke to Edward, who remembered her from a visit when she was a young woman, and finally to Past-Gordon, who took them home. And no engine ever felt prouder than those on the Fat Controller's railway.
The train had just departed, when two very familiar whistles sounded. With a sigh of relief, the engines saw Present-Thomas and Present-Gordon puff up. Past-Thomas stared at Present-Thomas, completely baffled.
"Hang on, IS THAT WHAT I TURN OUT TO BE?!"
"Oh man, I was an ASS back then, wasn't I?"
"Was?"
Past-Gordon rolled backwards towards the others. "Well, we had to cut the visit short, because-" He paused mid-talk, and looked at his future self, absolutely gobsmacked.
"Yes. Drink it in." Present-Gordon seemed to swell. "This is your future! You only get better with age! I cannot promise I can answer any questions, but-"
"When did I get so old?"
Duck laughed, and quickly moved in front of both Gordons before they could accidentally create a paradox. "Now, listen up!" His voice snapped into a slightly more authoritative tone. "We've got to get you two home before this day gets any weirder! So here's what I suggest. Carlin?"
"Yeah?"
"Once you pull yourself out of whatever drunken stupor you're in at the moment, you should get some of the crew to remove the decorations from our visitors from the past. Then, I'll take them back along to Bluff's Cove, get them home, and...well, that'll be that."
Everyone agreed. It had been a long and weird day.
Past-Thomas looked at his future self. "One question? Just, it's not a spoiler, I'm curious."
"Shoot."
"What happens? Does it all go well?"
"Not in the slightest. But you get through it. It gets a hell of a lot better."
...
And so, minutes later, Duck lead the past engines back down through Tidmouth Hault. But just before he hurried off into Bluff's Cove, he stopped, and quickly backed down onto the turntable, swinging around to face the two engines. "Hold up, I've got to do one last thing, quickly."
"Well hurry up, Goose, or whatever your name is! I have important things to do! Oh I can't wait to talk with Henry, tell him how much of a prat he still is in the future-"
"Say CHEESE!"
There was a blinding flash, and both engines slumped, knocked out completely.
Duck sighed. It had been a rather risky maneuver, all in all. He had quickly alerted Jinty and Pug, who had put about rumors that the Little Western had some sort of problem to be taken care of to block off anyone accidentally heading back into the past. And while they had done that, they had also managed to get a hold on some low grade weapons technology from the US. Apparently someone had decided to rip off some comic book called 'Men in Black' or something similar, except to make it somewhat less fatal. There was also some movie based on it coming out, Duck didn't think it would be that big of a deal. But the point was, hidden inside his buffers was a camera that had completely wiped the memory of the last week or so from Thomas and Gordon's minds.
"Sorry mates. Can't have you breaking the space-time continuum." All those years of watching Doctor Who had paid off, and so Duck found it easy to shove both engines through the portal and back to their rightful place in history. The wipe itself would officially break as the years went on, allowing Thomas and Gordon to record the message warning of the coming of their past selves and preventing more chaos occurring.
And so ended a rather complex situation that Duck hoped never to have to repeat again. And the audience breathed a huge sigh of relief because this chapter was one of the more tortured.
...
He saw...
The smelters yard, surrounded by diesels and humans alike, all watching a massive smelting kiln. And in the middle of the kiln stood a massive diesel, a powerful claw raised in triumph, a face that seemed to be comprised entirely of huge dark eyes that glowed with a powerful black light and roaring aloud. The diesel clawed it's way out, pulling itself onto the tracks like a hideous Frankenstein's monster.
All seven of those blasted engines, the ones they called 'The Steam Team' racing down a track. Different somehow, sleeker, shinier, older. Percy was pulling a strange looking yellow crane on a flatbed, and besides them all stood an eighth engine, a female, a Stirling that he didn't remember at all. And they were thundering, thundering to a place that hadn't even been built yet.
An Island rising from the waters like some great beast, a strange Island that was shrouded in mist and shadow and darkness, both man-made and nature, in some sort of strange and freakish amalgamation. And atop it, running along rails, through a hollow tree tunnel and over poorly made and nonsensically constructed bridges and tunnels, were three...three things, that looked like engines and sounded like engines but were all WRONG.
A very quiet siding, somewhere in Ffarquhar, and with a jolt Marklin realized that this wasn't the future, no, this was the past. And there he was, in his old and weaker form, eyes set in a cold and hard stare as he rolled forwards. And in front of him too, was the old fool who had been his first kill, the original Number One of the Island, the coffee pot named Glynn. He hadn't begged. That had been disappointing. And now his past self struck Glynn apart with great ease.
A valley, or what had used to be a valley, for all of a sudden the mountains seemed to vanish and the sea seemed to roll in, as rails sprang up, more and more of them, multiplying. Diesels were roaming all over the place, and there, standing on the platform of a station by the name of Shining Time, stood P.T Boomer, Captain Zero, Alistair Gotch and...yes, himself! And there was some sort of black energy that was flowing into both he and Boomer, and they were growing stronger and stronger.
Many, many engines, with nameplates in front of them. Ivan, Gina, Rajiv, Ashima, Vinnie, Yong Bao, Hiro, Carlos, Raul, Frieda, Axel, Etienne, Shane, Stepney, all arguing with each other, until at last, with a great thud, a far older and wearier looking Edward rolled forward, and how he spoke at length, at length! Of how they needed to be on their guard while dealing with Scotsman and his ilk.
The coast, where it had all began, where the Malevolence had fallen to Earth and had taken route, where the battle was in full swing. And even as the darkness reached forward to pluck the last humans from the beach, two engines, shining brightly, one with a lantern, one with her sheer smile, rose above the rest and struck the darkness with blast after blast after blast, until at last there was nothing left of it. And then he saw one of the humans, and stared in shock, for it was CARLIN!
And then...
And then...
Marklin victorious!
Marklin eternal!
Marklin triumphant!
...
Marklin awoke to find himself lying, for lack of a better term, back at the quarry. Drampf, Davidson (who had scuttled away at the first sight of Duck) and Class 40 watched him, curiously.
"What did you see?"
Marklin grinned. "Our victory."