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Chapter Text

On the Fat Controller’s Railway, there are many engines who pull freight trains. But there are far less engines able to tackle the heavy trains that run up and down the mainline. Murdoch is perhaps the strongest – the 9F was built to handle trains longer than any of the other engines could imagine. Henry, BoCo, Bear and Andrew are also very good at pulling these long trains, though sometimes they need help if the trains get too heavy. Molly, Donald, Douglas and Arthur also pull heavy freight trains when needed – thought often by double-heading.

Through most of the 80’s, goods traffic on the NWR had been down. While passengers had flocked to the island, the economic issues on the Mainland had also affected Sodor. Finally, the most important people (and Duke) got together and decided to create a new initiative to rebuild the economy.

“It’s called the Sodor-Services Initiative,” the Fat Controller explained to his engines. It was to involve expanding several of the island’s biggest industries, including a new extension to the Big Harbour, and the creation of several new factories and mills to process many of the natural resources from the island. The engines got right to work, pulling the long trains of stone, steel and other materials where they needed to go.

“This is ridiculous!” grumbled Henry. The other engines looked over at the green engine. “We are being run into the ground! I can’t even remember the last time I took a passenger train.”
“It was yesterday,” muttered Murdoch. “And I for one like the extra work. It’s nice to be useful.”
“As is may be,” Henry said, “but it just isn’t right. You are built for freight – but some of us should be pulling passengers.”
“You are complaining for no reason,” BoCo grunted. “At least we have work. I hear that the Other Railway is desperate.” That shut Henry up.

All the engines had heard about the problems the Other Railway were going through. There was less and less work for any of the engines, and it frightened many of the engines on the NWR.

The next morning, Henry had to pull a long train of steel from the rebuilt Ironworks to the Mainland. He was in a foul mood, and it only worsened when the engine they were supposed to meet at the end of the line broke down in the yards.

“We’ve been asked to carry on to Carnforth,” Henry’s driver said. Henry grumbled under his breath, but dutifully started down the line.

It was quiet. Eerily quiet. No other trains ran along the line, leaving Henry alone to puff along the coast. There were two lines – but no diesels ran on the other track. It was just Henry and the occasional bird.
“Where is everyone?” asked Henry aloud. “All our trains meet a connecting service… but there are no other trains.” He spotted the old, ripped-up track bed to a little branchline off to one side, and he could hear the whistles of a steam engine in the distance – but no engine appeared.

Finally, they made it to the town of Arnside. A signal stopped them in the platform.
“Finally!” exclaimed Henry. He gazed down the line expectantly.

To his horror, a dirt-caked diesel engine came coughing down the line, grubby coaches rattling along behind him.
“A Sodor engine…” murmured the diesel, staring curiously at Henry. “I wish I were a Sodor engine. Clean… cared for… having work… is there an opening?”
“Is there? Is there?” chanted the coaches. Henry’s signal changed to green, and the big engine began to puff away.
“Is there a spot? Tell me! Please!” begged the diesel – but Henry was already gone.

The green engine raced down the line as fast as he was allowed. He wanted to just drop off his trucks and go home. What was going on? That diesel looked pathetic, sad… unloved. Unwanted. It was… it was begging.

Henry finally arrived at Carnforth station. Three little shunters dashed forwards.
“Let me take your train?” they chanted.
“No, me sir! Please sir!”
“Don’t listen to him – let me shunt your train!” Was… was this what life had been like for Diesel? Henry whistled loudly.
“You can decide who is shunting my train yourselves. All I want is my return freight for Tidmouth.” A hush fell over the yard. A pair of the mainline diesels rumbled over.

“Tidmouth? As in… on Sodor?” Henry was surrounded.
“Bring me!”
“I’ll work hard!”
“I can work with steam engines!”
“I’ll do whatever!”
“Bring me with!”
“Bring me!”
“Please!” Henry whistled loudly, and raced away. He found his trucks, and didn’t even stop to turn around. He just coupled up and puffed away as fast as he could, leaving the diesels far behind.

He didn’t stop until he was back on North Western metals.

“Henry?” Henry jumped.
“Oh! Murdoch… it’s you. Oh thank goodness. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been rude. I’m so happy we have work!”
“What’s gotten into you?” asked Murdoch.
“BoCo was right… it’s horrible over there. They… they looked so desperate. They all wanted to come here… I…”
“It’s alright,” Murdoch soothed. “We’re safe over here.”

Henry had never been happier to be a Sodor engine.

Chapter Text

Murdoch and Bear were sitting in the sheds when a smartly-dressed man in a Military Uniform strode in.
“Your Controller has told me I am allowed to inspect the engines ‘on-shed’ to see their capabilities. I am… thoroughly unimpressed. I was told this railway had engines able to match what was found on the Other Railway.”
“Sir… I am a 9F, and Bear is a Hymek. We are equal in strength and speed to a Class 37.”
“And?”
“A Class 37 is the heaviest engine you can run along the Furness Line Sir,” Murdoch said. The Military official scowled.
“What a ridiculous notion! Trains go where we ask them to.”
“Sir, the line is not strong enough for heavier engines,” Murdoch replied. Andrew puffed in, saw the Military man, and sighed.
“Hello there, I see your lot still haven’t learnt how railways work.”
“What cheek!” spluttered the Military official. “You see I don’t have you court-marshalled!”
“I am a retired military asset – I know how the army works. And the fact is, our railway’s weakest engines could probably run heavier trains than your Other Railway diesels. Now, go back to your meeting, and leave us alone.”

The Military Official glared, and was about to reply when another voice rang out.
“Andrew?”
“Sir?” Andrew stared in shock at the General striding towards him. “You… you…” Andrew blew steam everywhere, and stormed away. Murdoch groaned.
“I’m going to get no peace, am I?”

The General spoke severely to his wayward officer, and sent him – quite literally – to sit in the car. It was rather hilarious to watch a fully-grown Military Officer sit in the backseat of a Land Rover and pout.

What was less funny was the contract the Fat Controller waved excitedly that evening.

“The Army is building a new combined-arms base here on the Island. It’s aim is to take advantage of the steel we make to build a drydock and fully armed base,” he explained to the engines.
“Isn’t that… dangerous?” asked Bear.
“It is, yes,” replied Edward. “But it was worse during the war. They used to just chalk an X on vans with explosives in them. Now they have properly-insulated vans. Besides, Salty and Diesel will be handling the shunting so there are no sparks.”
“And the trains themselves?” asked Murdoch impatiently. “Will we get to pull them?”
“Yes Murdoch,” the Fat Controller chuckled. “There is nothing dangerous heading to the construction site until it is able to receive such materials.”

Murdoch practically beamed.

The first trainload arrived the next morning from the Mainland. An ancient Class 37, caked with dirt, grumbled into the yards at Barrow and drew up beside Murdoch.
“You… you think you can take this?”
“Easily,” grinned Murdoch, eyeing the long train. The diesel uncoupled and ran into a siding to refuel while Murdoch backed down on the train. It had almost fifty trucks! Murdoch was coupled up, and with a blast of his whistle, he dug his wheels into the rails and heaved forwards. The diesel gaped in shock as Murdoch started the train alone, rumbling out of the yards with the trucks rattling behind him.

As Murdoch puffed along the line, he spotted Andrew and Molly talking to each other in hushed whispers. They eyed the military train with suspicion. Murdoch paid them no mind, continuing down the line, revelling in the strain on his couplings.

“I haven’t pulled trains like this in years!” Murdoch sighed, feeling his pistons ache. It felt incredible! The great big engine wanted to go faster, to really push himself, but his driver held him back.
“The train will be over too soon if you rush,” he warned. Murdoch eased back, and was soon running at a good speed.

As Murdoch felt the tension in his boiler slowly unravel, Andrew and Molly could only feel a creeping dread.
“How is he here?” asked Molly.
“I don’t know,” muttered Andrew. “But he doesn’t own us anymore. We’re going to be fine.”
“What if he tries to hurt Sir Stephen and Bridget?”
“He won’t,” Andrew said confidently – but secretly, he was just as worried.

Chapter Text

Work on the new military base quickly ramped up. The Army had had an old base in a disused part of an old Slate Quarry on the Skarloey Railway, and the little engines brought down the unneeded equipment to be transferred onto trains heading to the new site.

General McCallahan oversaw the project, and spent many hours surveying the trains as they were loaded and unloaded.
“It’s almost like he doesn’t think we’re clever enough to do this ourselves!” complained Sir Handel. BoCo sighed. He’d heard this too many times already.
“He’s military,” he repeated for the umpteenth time. “It’s his job.”
“And it’s our job to move this lot – but we can’t if he keeps doing random spot-checks!”
“Spot… checks?” asked BoCo.
“We’ve got to move all the ammunition and armaments from up on the base, so he keeps on interfering to demand we check something again and again!” Sir Handel left his trucks where they were and angrily fumed away.

The workmen began moving the crates between the two trains, placing them in special blast-resistant vans that had large oranges ‘X’s painted on their doors. Heavy concrete containers were loaded onto the flatbeds furthest from BoCo, and crates of ‘non-explosive equipment’ were placed on the flatbeds right behind him.

As the work went on, General McCallahan drove into the yard, screeching to a stop just near the trucks.
“Inspection!” he called, striding over. BoCo was forced to wait while the General first inspected Sir Handel’s train, then the equipment transferring the materials, then his train.

By the time the General was satisfied, BoCo was very late. He missed his path, and had to wait even longer at each junction, as other trains were flagged through.

“What time do you call this?” demanded the General when BoCo finally arrived. Bear sat on the other line with his train of construction waste.
“I am late Sir – I missed my path.”
“What kind of excuse is that?” snorted the General. “Military trains come first!”
“Sir, the Express comes first, followed by high-priority trains. You need to fill in the proper paperwork for your train to be considered ‘high-priority’. You designated my train ‘dangerous-freight’ Sir, so I was held up at signals away from stations so passengers would be kept safe.”
“What cheek!” exclaimed the General. “Your controller will hear about this!”

General McCallahan stormed away. Bear looked over.
“He has no clue how railways work,” sighed the Hymek. “He tried to designate my train as ‘mixed-goods’ – so now I am going to be stopping at every station to pick up railway waste.”
“The Fat Controller will not like this.”

And BoCo was right. General McCallahan arrived at the base the next morning looking very flustered.
“Wrong code indeed!” he spluttered. “I am not wrong, thank you! D2, you are due out.”
“I have a name sir – and I cannot leave until the workmen finish loading.”
“You will do as you are told,” thundered the General. So BoCo did. He started – and left the train behind. He rumbled off the base, and headed straight to the Big Station.

The Fat Controller strode out of his office to meet BoCo.
“I just had a call from the new base. Why did you leave without your train?” asked Sir Stephen. To BoCo’s surprise, he did not sound angry.
“The General told me to go, so I went,” BoCo replied. Sir Stephen chuckled.
“I thought as much. General McCallahan wants you to head back and pick up the train now – I have given the proper assignment to you, and I have asked the good General to allow the railway to handle train designations. Whether he will listen is yet to be seen.”

BoCo grinned, and headed back to the base. He found Molly just outside, staring vacantly at the iron fence.
“Are you alright Molly?”
“I… don’t want to go in.” BoCo considered, then smiled.
“I’ll take your train in – I can say it was for safety. I understand if you don’t want to deal with General McPaininmya—”
“BoCo!” gasped Molly, giggling. “Yes please – I don’t really want to deal with him again…”

BoCo swapped with Molly, and the old engine headed away to her next job. As she did, BoCo paused.

What did Molly mean by… again?

Chapter Text

Murdoch and Bear hurried along the line.
“Of course, they’d do this,” sighed Bear.

The Army had ordered a massive train for the construction project – but the engines hauling it were too big for the line from Lancaster, so Murdoch and Bear had to go help BoCo collect it.

When they arrived, they stopped dead in shock. The train was truly massive – and the four Class 58s that had been pulling it were all panting and gasping over in a siding.
“Well…” began Murdoch.
“Bother,” finished Bear. The two drew alongside BoCo to stare at the train.
“We… may need a couple more engines,” began BoCo.
“No you don’t,” huffed the General, storming over. “You told me you were all equal in strength to the Diesels.”
“To a Class 37!” Murdoch spluttered. “Those are Bones – they are much more powerful!”
“Well now what then?” huffed the General.
“We’ll have to call for either Henry or the Scots,” sighed Murdoch. “And even then, Molly and Andrew might be needed.”
“Who?” General McCallahan looked up, his eyes dark.

Murdoch wisely said no more. They called for Donald and Douglas. When the pair arrived, the diesels all began to laugh.
“Those two won’t help you move the train!” they cackled.
“Jus’ watch uz,” snapped Donald. Murdoch coupled to the front of the train, with Donald and Douglas in front of him. BoCo and Bear buffered up behind the last truck.
“Ready when you are!” shouted Bear. Murdoch whistled back, and all five put all their force into the train. The Class 58’s watched in amazement as the wheels slowly began to turn, the trucks groaning as the five engines forced the train to start.

Donald and Douglas grinned at the four diesels.
“Are ye watchin’?” they called.

It was slow going. The train was incredibly long, and it took all of their strength to keep it rolling. Slowly but surely, they puffed along the line towards Barrow, where Andrew and Molly were waiting to meet them.

Passing diesels gaped at the five.
“Look at that!” one Class 37 gasped. “They’re doing it! They’re actually doing it!”

Little did any of the engines know that there was one coach in amongst the trucks.

***

“We… made… it…” gasped BoCo, the five braking the train to a halt in the platform at Barrow Station. They carefully began splitting up the train into four, so Murdoch could take one, BoCo and Bear could take another, then Donald and Douglas and finally Molly and Andrew.

They carefully split away the first lot of wagons, and were about to shunt them onto another line when the General sprang out of his coach.
“Ah-ha!” he exclaimed. “I knew the two of you were here!”
“Sir… you saw me on the first day,” Andrew sighed.
“Well… uh…”
“Go away – we don’t want to see you here,” Andrew went on. “You were horrible to us! You pretended to be nice, and then left us to rot! You could have sold us to Heritage Lines, to Sodor, literally anything other than being left there would have been nice! But no, you left us. Now go leave again.”
“Exactly,” Molly said, finally speaking. “You didn’t care for us, and we suffered for twenty years!” The engines all glared at General McCallahan, and began blowing steam and noxious fumes at him.

“Stop it!” bellowed the General. “Cease!”
“No,” snapped a familiar voice. “You will listen to my engines, and vacate the station at once.” Bridget Hatt stormed over to the General. “I will be speaking to the Army about sending another person to oversee the construction.”

The General went to speak, only for Bridget Hatt to interrupt him.
“And it is not just because of this! You interfered in my engines’ work, demanded unneeded inspections and refused to learn your lesson.”

General McCallahan was sent away in disgrace, and replaced by a much more level-headed woman.

There were no more trains as long as the ‘Mega Train’, and construction of the new ‘Combined-Arms’ base continued smoothly.

And Murdoch was perhaps the happiest of all the engines, as he got to pull long, heavy trains all the time.