When Conan first bonded with Thomas, he first thought this bond would lead him into a number of wacky adventures at worst. And excluding the ordeals with the murderer and the germans, so it seemed. But it wouldn't last.
This became apparent one night when Conan had a rather unusual dream. He found himself in a dark, misty forest. Conan didn't know why he was here, but he kept walking.
"Rather pointless to keep walking when you don't know where you're going, isn't it?"
Conan froze: that voice sounded rather sinister. Slowly, he turned around. There, standing behind him, was a cloaked figure.
"So you finally noticed me," said the figure. "Not that I'm surprised. It takes time, but everybody notices me eventually."
"How…how is that possible?" Conan asked.
"Well, I'm a part of life," the figure replied. "The END to be exact. Yes, that's right: I'm Death. Not rhetorically, or metaphorically, or poetically, or theoretically, or any other fancy way: I'm Death, straight up."
"So…you're saying you're literally death…the end of life, personified?"
"You've nothing to fear, Conan, I didn't come to end you, that's impossible anyway: you're permanently bonded to an immortal machine. And I don't kill people myself. I just…lead them, when time is right."
"Then why are you here?" asked Conan.
"Well, it's rather complicated, I can tell you that much," Death admitted. "Though to be honest, I'm not sure how to explain it. You know, it's funny, isn't it? The fact that Blackwater, the thing that kills sentient vehicles, can permanently bond people to ageless machines. In my personal opinion, it's rather ludicrous, but I've no real problem: all people who drink Blackwater do so accidentally anyway."
"Now that's not true, my wife…"
"Drank a full bottle of the stuff on her own accord," interrupted Death. "Yes, I know: I saw. But I still see it as an accident: tell me, would she have known about the water bond if you didn't tell her about it? No, she wouldn't."
"Explain your business. If you're here to tell me my grandparents…"
"Don't worry: they're still around," Death reassured. "Not sure for how much longer, but they're still around. I actually came to warn you about something. Two things, in fact: if you hadn't drinked Black Water, you would already be dead. But I'm getting ahead of myself. What was the other thing? Oh yes, that's right: I've come with a call from the Master of All. That's what I call her anyway, she goes by many names. All you need to know about her is she has an intimate connection to railways. And she's in need of help."
"Wait, I thought God was male," said Conan.
"And who said I was referring to God? Your mortal brain couldn't comprehend the whole situation if I had a thousand years to explain. No, the Master of All is something else entirely. You can call her Lady if you wish. Anyways! You're in danger."
"And you're warning me about this, why?" asked Conan.
"Less people die, less work for me, that's why. My two bosses are unbearable, especially with how many idiots think they've earned the right to enter what Christians call Heaven. Though in all seriousness, she told me to tell you that. The person who's after you, he managed to find a way to steal her powers and use them for himself. I wouldn't really be able to know why he's after you, mainly because you've never met him, so by all logic, he has no reason to go after you. Lady would already have smitted the bastard if she could. She is currently building up energy, in order to recover."
"How did he steal her power?" Conan asked.
"How should I know? He wouldn't tell me anything when I tried to confront him. Then I decided to end his life, but that proved impossible: he used the stolen powers to make himself permanently immortal. The only person in the world who managed to escape me and did so deliberately: like I said, all those who drank Blackwater and bonded with a machine did so accidentally. It's really frustrating, especially since mankind isn't supposed to interfere with immortal affairs."
"Not even to help their kingdom have water?" questioned Conan.
"I see you've heard the story of Sisyphus," said Death. "Well Conan, let me tell you this: Zeus didn't go after Sisyphus for interfering with the business of the Gods: Zeus hates when people interfere with HIS own business. Don't believe everything you hear: not all of the story is true. Neither are the characters. You mortals have a strange way to interpret the divine, making names and backstories…never ceases to amuse me."
"Back to the subject of the guy after me, who is he?"
"His name is Passing Through Boomer. Don't ask me what his mother was thinking, I think she came from another country and gave him a name that translates to that in English. Like I said, I don't know why he's after you. All I know is that he's after you, and you must do something to stop him. And before you ask, I don't know what that something is: since he made himself immortal, it's impossible to kill him. God, I've never met someone so full of himself since Wellington."
"You mean…"
"If you want me to tell you who was the better general between him and Napoleon, sod off: I'm not Mr. Opinion. I can tell you this though: since you and your wife are now immortal, both of you will be seeing me more often, part of my job, to make sure you're satisfied. After all, a lot of people who become immortal through Blackwater end up getting extremely bored, especially when they no longer have anybody they love with them. Won't always be in a dream either. Anyways, I got to go. Someone else is dying of Spanish Flu…which, by the way, is what would have killed you: I'm only telling you this because you're immortal now. Live the rest of your life well."
Death then walked off. Conan stared for a moment.
Later, when he woke up, he told Jewelie what had happened.
"And why's he still here?" she asked, pointing behind him. Conan turned around, to see Death standing there.
"You mortals aren't the only ones who need sleep," Death replied.
At breakfast, both found themselves staring in bewilderment, mainly because Death had taken off his hood, but instead of a skull, it was a normal human head!
"I take on whatever form is necessary," Death explained. "And yes, that's why I'm wearing gloves and a robe: my hands don't change appearance, neither does my body. The one thing you mortals always get right is that seeing the divine directly is…deadly. That's why God, the christian one, never visits this plane of existence, not in his normal form anyway."
"You mean, as in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost?" asked Jewelie.
"Yes. Another of the few things you mortals got right. Any more questions?"
"Will any kids inherit our immortality?" Conan asked.
"Most likely not," said Death. "Has happened once, and only once, never again. And Lady only made that an exception because the child was dying and the mother was a devoted follower of her."
"What exactly did everyone get wrong about the divine?" asked Jewelie.
"Everything, except maybe the personalities. I know for a fact Zeus is a total jerk who cheats on his wife, it's why he and Lady hate each other. And I call him that for convenience. Don't ask me where the Greeks got the other names."
"How many pantheons exist out there?" Jewelie asked.
"Way too many to count, and all are inventions of humanity: different cultures take the same basic concepts, give them human form, and worship them," said Death. "But I'll tell you this: nature is the real god, she's the creator of everything, evolution and all that. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been dinosaurs, would there?"
"Dino…what?"
"I'd cite King Kong as an example, but that movie isn't even in the planning stage yet. Anyway, I gotta go: business to attend to."
"You sure you don't want to eat breakfast?" Jewelie asked.
"Appreciate the offer, I really do. But don't worry: I'll be fine. We immortals don't need to eat as often as you mortals do. One final question?"
"How many actual gods are there? As in, not interpretations, but actual divine beings?"
"5, used to be more, but we've had to downsize since Christianity became so popular. Yes, divinities can die under some specific circumstances. I'll tell you this: Hades proved to be more reasonable than Satan. See you around."
Death got up and left the house, leaving the couple completely confused. What had just happened?
Later, Conan left for work, still thinking deeply. Why was this guy coming for him? The only explanation was this guy was hunting down everyone with water bonds.
As he approached the sheds, he heard the engines arguing. Vicarstown sheds had a grand total of 8 berths: Emily's, Lily's, Selena's, Olive's, Thomas', Edward's, 98462's, and Luci's. Timmy slept at Crovan's Gate sheds, with Dante recently joining.
"Morning, Conan!" called out Noah, leaving his post at the signal box.
"Morning, brother…"
"Is there something wrong?" Noah's big brother instincts were flaring.
"N-no."
"You're lying."
"I have work to do, Noah."
Ignoring his brother, Conan climbed into Thomas' cab, feeling the fire rise up and create steam.
"Hey, Conan, did you know we're getting some new engines? The three come from the LSWR, seems the management of the company changed their mind, but will send only outdated engines."
"How outdated?" asked Conan.
"Very old actually, an LSWR T3 is among the engines we'll get. I don't know about the other two, though I heard one of them is a compound of some sort…We've placed bets, and if the other engine is a tank engine, everyone has to shunt their own trains for a month, and I get to take trains up the Northern line."
"Well…I wish you luck," said Conan. Thomas found Conan's short response odd.
"What are you talking about? You'll come with me! You and I are a team, you know that."
"Well, it will be a good experience to take trains for once and not do shunting," said Conan.
As both began to shunt a train for Lily, the fireman couldn't help but feel something was distracting Conan. He seemed able to control Thomas with his mind, but today, the LNWR coaches complained all during the process.
"Conan?"
No response.
"Conan?" the fireman snapped his fingers, snapping Conan out of his trance.
"What?"
"You seem to be distracted, something troubling you?" the fireman asked.
"No" he lied.
"Sure…"
Thomas said nothing, instead bringing the coaches to a platform. Lily was waiting at the station.
"What took you so long?" she asked.
"Points jam," answered Thomas.
"Hmm…bring those coaches over here: I'll be running late the longer you stall."
"Yes, madam," groaned Thomas. He learned it was best to just humour Lily.
As Lily departed, Conan directed Thomas to get some 4-wheeled coaches.
At Arlesburgh, John had just pulled in with his passenger train and was ready to meet up with Falcon and his Boat Train. Much to his surprise, Falcon was running late!
"Where is that Falcon?" he asked. "He's normally punctual!"
"Probably slept in late," chuckled Stuart. But he was wrong: Falcon puffed into the Port, hissing and moving slower than he usually did.
"Everything ok?" John asked.
"It hurts…I don't know what caused it, but one of the brakes on the coaches slipped on before I could depart Arlesdale. I think I damaged my brake pipe trying to pull the train before I accidentally pulled apart the pipes. We've had no choice but to run unbraked for the rest of the journey."
"That certainly explains a lot," said John. "You think Stanley had something to do with it?"
"Hardly!" scoffed Falcon. "He may be able to drive himself, but he can't repair himself!"
"Repair?"
"Oh you haven't heard?" Stuart quizzed. "A few months back, his boiler exploded when he tried to take the Boat Train nonstop without a crew."
"And I thought that was just a rumour," said John. "How long will he be out of action?"
"Hard to say. It's 19th July, and that's some 4 months," answered Falcon. "Boilers for his class must be in short supply. Personally, I don't think he should be running on our railway."
"I second that," said Stuart. "Even if he claims to have learned his lesson, who says he actually learned it?"
"Surely the ability to drive yourself isn't that bad," said John.
"It's not the fact he drives himself we have a problem with," said Falcon. "It's what he uses it for: bullying."
"Would any of you be willing to learn how to do so? Personally, I like the idea," said John. "I mean, say your crew fell out: you wouldn't become a runaway if you could apply your own brakes."
"Even so, I don't see much benefit," said Falcon. "If Stanley did show any other positives to self-driving instead of using it for bullying others, yes, I probably would."
"I prefer my driver, thank you," muttered Stuart in agreement.
"In any case, who would damage the brakes on the coaches?" asked John. To that, nobody had an answer.
That said, Stuart was quick to add, "I feel somebody hates us."
"If I find whoever's responsible, I'll run him over until there's nothing but blood, squished organs, and broken bones," said Falcon.
"I don't think Granpuff would approve of that," said Stuart. "But in any case, how do we transport passengers for the 10 o'clock departure? We can't keep transporting them in these broken coaches."
"Perhaps," suggested Falcon, "we get those new first class Pullmans: at least they look the right part. As for who will take it when you return, we'll leave that to Mighty Mac: I need repairs too after all."
"Who is Mighty Mac?"
"Surely you've seen that double-fairlie John!" snorted Falcon.
"Oh, that's his name. Or is it them? I can't really tell."
"It depends on whether you want to refer to one or both I suppose," said Stuart
"Far as I know, both personalities are male. So it's a him. It would be more complicated if one was a girl."
During the conversation, arrangements had been made with the Manager. Stuart was quick to fetch the Pullmans. Falcon was ordered to move the coaches he had into a siding and to head off to the sheds to be inspected for any damage that wasn't just his brake pipe.
"I'm surprised you didn't stop the train at Arlesdale," John remarked as Falcon pushed the coaches.
"No excuse this time," said Falcon. "Like Duke says, we must look after the people on our line, leaving them behind would never suit His Grace."
"You're finally maturing, it seems," said John.
"What can I say? Duke's a good teacher," remarked Falcon.
However, Falcon wasn't the only engine having problems: at Ffarquhar Road Mine, Tim had just left with a fully-loaded train.
"Stop, stop!" shouted a truck. "One of my axles feels off!"
Tim braked and the crew inspected: as it turned out, the axle was coming loose!
"How'd this happen?" asked Tim's driver.
"I saw somebody coming over last night, heard hammering, but I just thought it was repairs," said the truck. "Seems I was wrong."
The truck was shunted aside while Tim took the rest down to the Port.
However, it didn't stop there: as he approached Ffarquhar Road Station, Tim began to go faster and faster…too fast!
"What's going on?! Why aren't my brakes working?!"
"That's what I want to know!" shouted the driver. The fireman jumped out of the cab and went to the station to warn the stationmaster, who called Marthwaite. In no time, all traffic there was halted. Tim came to a stop in the loop at Marthwaite, relieved.
"How did that…happen?" he panted. "I swore my brakes were fine earlier!"
Turns out, not only were his brakes broken: his axles had overheated from how fast he'd travelled on the line. One had even partially melted.
"Shouldn't be too far from Arlesdale," said Tim. "Pretty sure we can at least get there under our own steam. Just one question: who will look after this train?"
It wasn't long before Mighty Mac found himself feeling very busy: Tim out of action meant he had to handle all the mine trains, which even the Double Fairlie found exhausting.
"Why can't that cabless engine at Cas-ny-Hawin help us?" asked Mac.
"He could, but we don't own him," answered Mighty. "Cas-ny-Hawin Mining Co. does: in order for him to take trains all the way down, he'd have to be given permission."
"Fuck. I'm worn out enough!"
"Put a cork in it, Mac," said Mighty.
"You're not my boss, so fuck you!""
"At least I know better than to question work ethics!" Mighty snapped.
"That will do you two!" Duke said sternly. "We can't waste time squabbling when two engines are out of action!"
"Grr…fine," huffed Mac.
It was much later in the day when TKE #2 was at Knapford Junction waiting to head to Tidmouth with a lead train. The Ffarquhar extension was nearly done, which pleased her. However, this was about to be undone: the stationmaster came running up.
"TKE #3 has come off the line at Elsbridge!" he said. "Some sabotaged trackwork is the cause."
"Sabotage?!" shrieked TKE #2? "Who would want to sabotage our line?!"
"Search me," admitted the stationmaster, "but you better hurry and rerail him. Leave your trucks here, I'll have Greeny take them later."
TKE #2 did as she was told, though she wasn't sure if Greeny was the best choice to take her train.
All over the Island, over the next few weeks, sabotage was occurring: points jamming at random, rolling stock having loose axles or faulty brakes, and that wasn't the worst of it: near the end of the month, Olive nearly derailed in a set of points set against her, but she forced herself through, which damaged her leading bogie. If something like that happened again, passengers would turn to the roads. The Fat Director had a huge headache trying to figure out how to solve this. To prevent a drop in profits, when August began, he launched a new named service with Hurricane in an attempt to curtail it. Though popular, the Sudrian Storm didn't seem to help much.
"Seems the only way I can get things back to normal is to find the one responsible and bring them to justice," he sighed.
The next day, however, worse would come. That was the day two of the three new engines would arrive, but things changed drastically. In the evening, Lily had just passed Kellsthorpe Road and was making good time with the express. It happened before she had time to process it. One moment, the line was stable, the second, the lead coach derailed, with the rest of the train smashing and telescoping behind it. Lily's boiler was punctured by falling debris, forcing her to try and stop, when suddenly, she found herself falling until she was blocking the river on both sides! Lily tried to call for help, but couldn't. The pain from the cold water was too much for her, and Lily passed out.
Her crew were alright and immediately contacted emergency services, which arrived the next morning. 30 perished in the derailment and 124 were injured. 5 of the coaches had been destroyed, and Lily was in constant pain after being fished out. But one question was on the Fat Director's mind.
"How could this happen?" he asked. "These tracks were in perfect condition yesterday!"
The investigators came up, the leader of them speaking.
"We've examined the rails," he said, "and we have a clear answer: sabotage."
"SABOTAGE?! AN ENTIRE TRAIN?!"
"Seems so," said the lead investigator. "Several spikes had been pulled out and the rails had been pulled inward."
"DEAD! I WANT THE BASTARD WHO DID THIS DEAD!" shouted the Fat Director. "NOBODY HARMS MY ENGINES, MY RAILWAY, AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!"
"Sir, please calm…" The Fat Director, normally not a violent man, punched the investigator.
"YOU'VE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME TO BE CALM WHEN ONE OF MY ENGINES NEARLY DIED! I WILL NOT BE CALM UNTIL THE ONE RESPONSIBLE IS BROUGHT TO JUSTICE AND EITHER SENTENCED OR KILLED!"
98462, who had been tasked with helping clean the mess up, was startled by the rage the Fat Director was showing. He was more worried about Lily, however.
A reward for 4 thousand pounds was issued for the head of the one responsible, dead or alive. Tools had been found around the wreck site, which led many to believe the culprit was a disgruntled workman. The Fat Director gathered all the engines at Vicarstown.
"THERE SHALL BE NO MORE TRAINS UNTIL THE SABOTEUR IS CAUGHT!" he shouted.
"Sir, I don't think…"
"DON'T TELL ME IT'S NOT NECESSARY TO YELL!" the Fat Director scolded Edward. "SOMEBODY HAD THE AUDACITY TO TRY AND DESTROY ONE OF MY ENGINES, I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO YELL!"
"Hey, don't be mad at Edward!" shouted Thomas.
"YOU SAYING YOU THINK THE SABOTAGE WAS JUSTIFIED, THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE?!"
"I never said that!" shrieked Thomas.
The Fat Director continued to rant, until he was knocked out by Lord Harwick.
"I'll admit, I've never seen him like this before," he said. "It's true: anger really does affect people in great ways. Great being subjective here."
"That doesn't excuse him yelling at Edward!" shouted Thomas.
"You're right, it doesn't," agreed Lord Harwick. "He is right though: nobody's going to trust us until the saboteur is either caught or killed. We cannot operate until that happens."
"What about Lily?" asked Emily.
"I had her sent to Horwich while Sir Topham was going on his rampage," answered Lord Harwick. "Figured it would be best to send her there since it was where she was built. Services between Kellsthorpe Road and Killdane will be cancelled until the bridge is mended. The Kirk Ronan branch line will be closed until further notice."
At Barrow-in-Furness, two LSWR locomotives, a 4-4-0 and a 4-2-2-0 were at the sheds and informed of the news.
"Screw this!" said the 4-4-0. "I ain't working on a dangerous railway!" And he steamed off.
"Coward!" shouted the 4-2-2-0. The 4-4-0 rolled his eyes.
Emily reached Barrow some minutes later, to greet the newcomers before taking them to Sodor, and was most surprised to see only one.
"I thought I was meeting two engines," she said.
"The other one left," said the engine. "Didn't want to work on a dangerous railway. I was purchased, so whatever."
"I am Emily. Welcome to Sodor. Sorry about not being able to give you a welcome party, we're in quite the problem at the moment."
"I know, I heard. Name's Petunia. Lead the way."
Emily did so, while both engines got to know each other. All the same, neither could help but feel nervous: that feeling wasn't one that would go away, not until the saboteur was caught.
To be continued…