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Barrow-in-Furness: November 16th, 1964

One month after the "Awdry Leak"

James pulled into Barrow Station with the midnight-goods. He whistled for a road, and the signalman gave him permission to proceed into the neighbouring yards. It was quiet, even the nearby foundries seemed to have gone silent, and the red engine found the sudden stillness extremely unsettling.

"Alright, we're here," he said, "Come on, Anthony, let's go before anyone shows up."

"We can't, James," replied the driver, "we've got a return train to arrange." He was about to say something else when the purring of a diesel motor broke his train-of-thought.

"Oh no, we're too late," whimpered James as a sleek green diesel locomotive rolled up alongside.

"Oh, well hello there, rusty red scrap iron!" hissed the diesel, "Everyone's been talking about you over 'ere."

"I-I-I-I… I know," the steam engine stammered.

"We'll be taking over your line any day now, you just wait!"

James drew in a deep breath. "They aren't all bad," he said to himself, "Edward says they aren't all bad."

"Edward?" the diesel asked, "Who's Edward?"

"A-a-a… a friend."

"Well, let me tell you something, tea pot! We're going to replace your 'Edward', he'll be scraped real soon!"

"No," said James trying and failing to sound brave, "no he won't… The Fat Controller would never-"

"It's not about your 'Fat Controller', it's about us diesels! We are modern. We are the future. We take over. We always do!"

Keep your cool, James…

"And who's that big green engine who comes rattling over 'ere once in a while? We'll get him, too!"

Keep your cool…

"And that big blue waste-of-metal who's always blowing steam around our station! All of your friends… we're going to send them all to-"

"THAT'S IT!" James bellowed letting out a series of deafening blasts from his whistle, "I'M SICK OF YOU DIESELS! I'VE BEEN ON THE MIDNIGHT GOODS FOR A MONTH, AND EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, ONE OF YOU DIESELS COMES OVER HERE AND THREATENS MY FRIENDS! I'M SICK OF IT! I'M SICK OF ALL OF IT!"

The diesel growled and inched ever so closer to the red engine. "Watch what you-"

"GET BACK!"

James let off a concentrated beam of steam from his cylinders, just barely missing the diesel's cab roof. The diesel squealed in fright like a posh-Georgian and quickly flounced away as the steam engine's angry whistles echoed throughout the yard.

"I GAVE YOU A CHANCE! I GAVE YOU ALL A CHANCE! EDWARD SAYS YOU'RE NOT ALL BAD, BUT YOU JUST THREATENED TO MURDER HIM! I'VE NEVER MET A GOOD ONE OF YOU ANYWAY! GET OUT OF HERE YOU DIRTY DIESEL! GET OUT! GET OUT YOU SCUM OF THE RAILWAY! DIRTY DIESEL!"

Act Two: Suspicions

Based on "Assumptions", "1967" & "Donald's Duck"

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Isle of Sodor: Three Years Later…

"It's a little… outdated, don't you think?"

"Well perhaps. Yes, yes it is a little, I suppose."

The Fat Controller and Mr. Olaski, the NWR's lead marketing adviser, watched the small television perched atop a filing-cabinet in the former's office. Presented on the black-and-white screen was the railway's current promotional film, which had been recorded back in 1936 shortly after Henry had returned from Crewe, indicated by the presenter referring to the green engine as "newly rebuilt".

"Well, it definitely warrant remaking," said Mr. Olaski, "pretty much everything needs a newer look these days. Now, if you were to replace those steam engines with the modern and more up-to-date diesels-"

"That is not going to happen!" interrupted the Fat Controller, "I wouldn't even consider it!"

"Well, it's diesels or steam engines, and you can't bring more of those in, it's just not viable, you've said it yourself!" Mr. Olaski clasped his hands behind his back and sighed thoughtfully. "My point is that you're going to be left behind, Charles. BR uses diesels now and lots of them. From the outside, I'm afraid your line seems a little… antiquated?"

"Look," the Fat Controller reassured, "I'm willing to try all sorts of strategies. But the mass Final Firing of engines that've worked reliably on my railway for all these years is not one of them! They aren't going away."

Mr. Olaski raised his hands, "Fine, fine, have it your way," he said, "but at least try and make the railway look modern, Charles. If you don't… you may be in trouble."

The Fat Controller's face darkened. He knew Mr. Olaski was right.

After Diesel 199 had been sent back to the mainland in disgrace two weeks earlier, the North-Western Region of British Railways soon became very busy. Summer had arrived on the Island of Sodor which, along with the Doncaster engines' visit, created a large boom in passenger traffic, and a hefty demand from the railway's various freight contractors. Henry was still at the Steamworks after the workmen had discovered additional problems besides the jammed regulator that got him there in the first place, while Adora had volunteered to double head an express goods to London with Jessica (with the permission of the former's owner of course), leaving Gordon, Abel, and Spencer to satisfy the enthusiasts in her absence and the other engines to double down on the goods traffic in Henry's.

To add to this, a few months beforehand, the Fat Controller had reopened the Arlesburgh Branch Line, which runs along the island's west-coast by sandy beaches and seaside towns till it meets the 15" inch Arlesdale Railway by the big port at the line's namesake. As Duck had made friends with the miniature engines when their railway first opened alongside the branch itself, the Fat Controller transferred him to the branch line and put the Great-Western engine in charge of passenger services. Both the Scottish Twins, – Donald and Douglas – the Sisters, – Ruby and Yang – and the Fowler Twins – Tim and Chloe – chipped in from time-to-time assisting Duck with the various goods and passenger work. The branch lines primary form of trade was the track-bed ballast the miniature engines bring down from the valley.

Duck is very proud of his branch line, and felt his responsibility deeply. He talked endlessly about it.

"You don't understand, Donald," he told the Caledonian one night in Tidmouth Sheds, "The Fat Controller relies on me to keep the Arlesbrugh line running."

"Och, aye," muttered Donald sleepily. By now, he was sick of Duck's constant boasting.

"I'm Great Western and-"

"Quack, quack, quack."

"W-what?"

"Ye heard. Quack, quack ye go, syne ye'd an egg laid. Now wheesht, and let an engine sleep."

Duck was annoyed. "Oh, go quack yourself with a paddle sideways," he said indignantly knowing full well what he really meant. But Donald didn't hear him, as the Scottish engine had fallen fast asleep. Duck, however, stayed awake all night wondering how to pay Donald out.

At last he said to himself sleepily, "Yes. I'll ask Harvey in the morning."

The next morning, the Fat Controller drove his car to Tidmouth Sheds, where he found the engines and their crews preparing for another day's work. Along with Duck and Donald, Belle, Douglas, Abel, and Gordon were all on shed that day, and they all waited patiently for the Fat Controller to address them. What he had to say must've been important if he was visiting the sheds personally.

"I have decided," announced the Fat Controller, "that if this railway is to prosper far into the future, then we'll need to get the word out about our operations here on Sodor. Today, a film director and his crew will be filming a majority of you from the lineside for a new advertising campaign." The engines were excited, but also rather worried.

The Fat Controller sensed this. "Don't worry," he chuckled, "we won't be making any you solve a murder-mystery or defeat an army of Daleks or anything like that. This isn't the kind of films the Americas love so much, no. All you need to do is your regular day's work and if you begin to feel uncomfortable, just pretend the film crew aren't there. I hope I've cleared a few things up about today's going's on for you all."

And with that, the Fat Controller got back in his car and drove away. The engines tittered amongst themselves about movie-stars and grand Hollywood-pictures for the rest of the morning. Every engine… except for Donald and Duck. The former had slept through the Fat Controller's whole announcement, and the latter was whispering something to his crew.

"He says that I quack as if I'd laid an egg!" said Duck. "Let's pay him out!"

"Quack do you, now?" his fireman pondered. "I know," he said and whispered something to the driver and Duck.

The Great-Western pannier chuckled darkly, and his driver slapped his knee in delight. "Just right!" he said, he was the kind of man that loved a good joke. "We'll do it tonight!"

"Lights! Camera! Action!" the Fat Controller chuckled as he watched the film crew set up their equipment in the yards at Tidmouth. "Come on lads, get that tripod set up!" He turned to the director, "What do you think, Mr. Tanzig?" the Fat Controller asked.

"It seems like it should run smoothly enough," said the director, making a frame with his fingers and looking around the yard through said frame. "The shoot is relatively straight forward."

"Wonderful," the Fat Controller smiled. "Now then, James is off duty today, so if you could just show him… well, err, doing his jobs, I suppose? Are you all ready, James?!" the Fat Controller called to the red engine, who sat on the fourth line farthest from the cameras.

"Sure am, sir!" James called back.

"Fantastic!"

"Yes, quite," agreed the director. "Now we just need the film put in. Roger! Load the stock, will you?"

Of course, we know that the director was referring to the film stock, but James had misheard. "Stock? Right, yes, got it! Will shunt!"

Before anyone could stop him, James shot backwards, ramming into a lone truck and sending it flying down the siding! It SMASHED through the buffers before coming to rest on the gravel just inches away from a workmen's hut!

"What a shot!"

"Oh, shut up, Riche!"

The director clasped his hand over his mouth in shock. "Oh my," he said slowly, "that didn't go too well, did it?"

"Err… No. No it didn't," replied the Fat Controller quietly.

The shoot… was ruined.

That night, while Donald was asleep in Tidmouth Sheds, Duck's driver and fireman carefully popped something into his water tank. They then quickly and quietly walked back to their engine, who was hiding in the carriage shed.

"Well, we've done it," they whispered to their engine.

"They won't hurt her, will they?" asked Duck anxiously.

"Bless me, no," chuckled the fireman, "Donald's crew are both kind men; she'll come to no harm."

The next morning, Donald was taking on water from the standpipe at Knapford. When his driver opened the tender's filler cap, he nearly fell off in surprise when he found a rather unexpected passenger! Out of Donald's tank popped a little white duckling!

"Quack! Quack!" said the duckling.

"What the bloody 'eck?!" cried the driver before recomposing himself, and helping the shivering bird out of his engine's water tank, "how on earth did you get in there, my feathered friend?"

"Quack! Quack!"

Donald thought for a moment, and then chuckled. "Na doot at a' who's behind this," he said, and then he told his crew what happened in the sheds the other night.

The little duckling, as it turned out, was quite tame. She shared the driver's and fireman's sandwiches, and rode in Donald's tender, quacking at intervals. The other engines enjoyed teasing Donald about her, especially Ruby and Yang, and he felt rather embarrassed by the conundrum he'd gotten in. Presently though, the duckling hopped out of Donald's tender at Haultraugh Station, and as they couldn't wait to catch her, there she stayed.

That afternoon, before returning to the sheds after their morning shift was done, Donald and his crew consulted together, and made a plan for payback.

"Surely, it couldn't have gone that badly," reassured Mr. Olaski as he and the Fat Controller discussed the previous day's mishaps.

"Oh, trust me," groaned the Fat Controller, "it was dreadful!"

"Hmm… maybe it didn't have the… best planning."

"Well, we're running out of time and we haven't any ideas. I'll just have to try again, I suppose."

"Would it be any different though?" asked Mr. Olaski doubtfully. "You can be sure there isn't another accident, Charles, but everything still looks out-of-date. Meet me halfway here, I am your marketing adviser after all."

"Then what would you suggest, exactly?" the Fat Controller asked, slowly losing patience. Mr. Olaski scanned the Knapford yards, trying to find something, anything, that could be the all-important missing link in the railway's crumbling chain. His eyes then suddenly lit up.

"Try using him," he said pointing at Bear. "Just, try it."

After a quick phone call, the film crew soon arrived at Knapford. They set up their cameras and lighting equipment by the lineside, ready to record Bear's departure from the station's bay-platform with a small goods train.

"All set, sir," the Hymek called as the guard blew his whistle and hurried into the brake van.

"And… ACTION!" shouted the director.

With a loud growl from his engine, Bear gently eased his train out of the station, across the intersection beneath the signal gantries, and onto the mainline, eventually fading out of sight. The cameras had caught every last second of the diesel's departure and the director was very pleased

"Magnific!" he cried, kissing the tips of his fingers. "Perfect! Simply perfect!"

"You see?" Mr. Olaski smiled, "much better."

"Hmm… I can't disagree," replied the Fat Controller. "Although…" his smile quickly disappeared, "I hope James won't mind."

"This is all you've been needing, just a bit of polish. Embrace it! Out with the old and… in with a bit of the new."

Unfortunately for the Fat Controller, Ruby had overheard the two men's conversation, and the young-at-heart engine had taken it completely out-of-context!

"It's the end! We're all going to be scrapped! SCRAPPED!" sobbed Ruby to the other engines at Tidmouth Sheds late that afternoon. Yang, Duck, James, Gordon, and the Scottish Twins were all on shed while their crews had dinner with the signalman in his box. The engines all listened to what Ruby had to say with wide eyes.

"Ruby! Ruby! Calm down, please!" consoled Yang, carefully dragging the tearful Class 2 Aspinall off the turntable and into her berth as a form of embrace. "Shhh, shhh… everything's going to be alright, I promise. Nothing like that's going to happen to you, to any of us."

"I can't believe they replaced me! ME!" James complained, "And by a diesel of all things!"

"I must admit, this is rather peculiar," put in Duck thoughtfully. "It could be the start of something…"

"IT IS!" Ruby croaked through panicked breaths, "I HEARD IT IN THE YARD! The Fat Controller's been talking to that adviser, and the diesels are going to replace us!" It was now that Yang wished Tim were here, as he seemed to be the only other engine able to calm Ruby down, but he and Chloe were busy assisting with the heavy goods work on the main line.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Bear had just returned from the goods. He stopped opposite a rake of coaches, concealing him from the engines' view, and listened intently to the brewing conversation, a feeling of guilt slowly building in his radiator.

"Don't be silly, Ruby," cried Yang now desperate to calm her sister, "you can't think like that! What about Daisy, or Dennis, or BoCo?"

"Yes," said Duck, "but for every Daisy and BoCo, there's a Devious Diesel… Spamcan…"

"The one who stole my part."

"Ugh, would you leave that, James?! This could go much further!"

"Pah! Nonsense," scoffed Gordon, "you're all far too steamed up! Listen here! I go to Barrow every day, and yes there are more diesels than ever, BUT they are hard workers and that's all this is about, hard work. As long as we do our jobs well, we won't be replaced."

"I don't trust them," Douglas muttered darkly. "Never will."

The sheds went quiet, and all the engines turned their attention to Douglas. Bear, sensing he wasn't wanted, purred sadly away, leaving everyone completely unaware he'd ever been there, let alone that he'd been eavesdropping.

"You dinna see what me an' Donal saw," continued the Caledonian, "it's a different world out there. We came here tae get away from them, we canna go through that again." He went silent for a moment. "James, if ye want yer part back, I ha' a plan."

Douglas whispered something to James, and a horrible feeling of déjà vu washed through Gordon, Ruby, and Yang. They all knew where this was going.

While everyone was distracted by this, however, Donald's driver and fireman snuck into the sheds, and got busy.

The Fat Controller sat in his office looking through the day's paperwork, the only sound being the steady ticking of the grandfather clock. He look at the railway's weekly profit margins, the jagged line had raised slightly higher since the last week he'd held this kind of document. The extra passenger and goods contracts brought in by the Arlesburgh Branch Line seemed to be helping the railway in the long run. But even with the Scottish Twins, the Sisters and the Fowler Twins helping out, he knew that Duck couldn't handle the workload alone.

The railway was going to need another engine to be permanently assigned to the branch line to handle the goods work while Duck tackled the passenger services. The most sensible course of action would be to purchase Bear from the diesel's home region and assign him to Arlesburgh, but then again, the Fat Controller didn't think the 57xx pannier would take such an arrangement very well after his was last paired up with a diesel. Perhaps if-

The Knapford Stationmaster sliding his head through a crack in the door broke into the Fat Controller's thoughts. "James and Douglas have gone on strike, sir," he said.

The Fat Controller looked up from his work, a look of disbelief on his face. Before he could say anything, the stationmaster had left, returning to his work around the station. For a while, a long while, silence filled the room, even the grandfather clock seemed to have broken, as it too had fell quiet. Finally, the Fat Controller stood up from his chair.

"Right."

The sun was just beginning to set behind the distance hills when the Fat Controller found James and Douglas at Tidmouth Sheds, the exact same place where his father had found the three big engines sulking thirty-three years earlier. Duck and Donald were also there, the former giving the two strikers a rightful tongue-lashing, and the latter miraculously sleeping through the whole thing. When Duck saw the Fat Controller walking towards the sheds, he became respectfully silent, allowing the stout gentleman to take over.

"I don't know what you think you're playing at, but this childish nonsense stops now!" the Fat Controller said angrily, pointing at Douglas and James.

"I'm afraid we have to take a stand, sir," said James firmly. "We feel… threatened."

"Threatened?"

"Aye, sir," Douglas spoke up. "I'm afraid we canna stand idle while ye let us be replaced by yon devils-"

"That's quite enough!" interrupted the Fat Controller. "I am trying to keep this railway together!" He paused impressively. "Douglas, you have a goods train to take to Barrow. NOW!"

Douglas was furious, but he could tell the argument was a lost cause. Begrudgingly, the Scottish engine puffed out of the sheds to collect his train from Brendam Docks, leaving James alone with the Fat Controller.

The red engine's scowl faded, replaced by a mournful frown. "It was supposed to be my part, sir," he said in an apologetic tone.

"I know, I know," the Fat Controller sighed, "I'm, uh, sorry, James. Things are very… difficult right now, a-and I'm not sure how to fix everything and please everyone. But you and the others must know that I'd never replace you." For this first time since he arrived at the shed, he smiled. "After all, what would this railway be without James the Red Engine? Not mine, that much is certain! We've hard times ahead, but I need you all to be the great engines I know you can be. Can you do that?"

James felt much better after hearing the Fat Controller's speech. "Yes, sir," he said, his confidence fully restored.

"That's the spirit! I promise that I'll find a way to sort everything out." The Fat Controller suddenly yawned, it had been a rather stressful day after all. "But now though," he said wearily, "I could do with a good rest." He was about to walk back to his car when both he and James heard the sounds of roaring laughter coming from Duck's berth.

"What's so funny?" asked James, he rather annoyed that the moment between himself and the Fat Controller had been ruined.

"I'm… just as confused as you, James," replied a bewildered Duck. He looked down at his driver and fireman, who were laughing so hard they cried!

"Look, Duck!" wheezed his fireman. "This… This was sitting on the sleepers underneath your bunker!" He held up a brown square-shaped object to their engine's face, who was most surprised!

The object was a nest-box, with a freshly laid egg nestled amongst some straw inside! Duck peered at it unbelievably.

Donald opened a sleepy eye. "Ye dinna say!" he exclaimed, "D'ye mind what I said, Duck? Ye must ha' laid it during yer shouting match with James and Douggie, all unbeknownst!"

Then Duck laughed too. "You win Donald, you sonofabitch!" he said, "It'll take a clever engine to get the better of you!"

The white duckling settled at Haultraugh Station, and became a pet with passengers and staff. She carefully inspects all parcels and luggage, and sees that the porters stow them properly in the vans. When she wants a swim, she flies to a nearby pond, but always returns in time to welcome coming trains. She stands by an engine's cab, quacking imperiously until the driver or fireman gives her something to eat.

Out of all the engines, Donald is her favourite, and sometimes allows him to give her rides on his footplate, but she always gets off on at the station she now calls home. The stationmaster named her Dilly, but to everyone else, she is and always well be Donald's Duck.

Knapford Station was quiet. The Fat Controller was about to lock the door to his office, ready to return home to his wife, when the telephone suddenly buzzed so hard the whole thing visibly vibrated. He quickly ran back inside and answered it.

"Hello?" _ "Yes?" _ "Are you sure?" _ "Good God, you must call the-" _ "Oh, they're already there? Okay, that's a-" _ "What?" _ "What about Douglas?" _ "What do you mean 'stowaway?'" _ "They? What do you mean they?" _ "Oh… I see. Well, err, I'll be there right away."

The Fat Controller slammed the phone back onto its base and hurried outside to his car. His day wasn't over just yet unfortunately. There was something at Vicarstown that needed his immediate attention.

End of Act Two