//------------------------------//
// Hero of the Rails, Part 1 
// Story: Thomas and Friends: More Tales from Sodor 
// by The Blue EM2 
//------------------------------//

It was a glorious English summer in Yorkshire and neighbouring counties which are often confused for Yorkshire. The National Railway Museum fleet was out at work, being used both at the museum itself and out on the mainline on charter trains, running to Scarborough, Whitby, Darlington, Carlisle, and untold numbers of other varied destinations. Thomas was being used as well for the 'short trips', usually a quick dash up the mainline to Northallerton or somewhere similar before returning to York. Such running was made possible by the marvel that was the Auto-Set, with the museum's LBSCR rake being suitably fitted.

Thomas was conducting one such run one afternoon. It was, as I have said, a lovely day. Thomas had paused at Thirsk, where a water lorry was filling his tanks, when he suddenly heard a chime whistle in the distance. "What's that?" he asked.

"I don't think that's Mallard," Twilight replied. "I thought he was on rest duty today!"

Suddenly, a silver streak shot past them on the Down Fast, going incredibly fast.

"Fizzling fireboxes!" Thomas exclaimed. "What was that?"

"A train passing at speeds far faster than steam engines are permitted to operate on the main line," Twilight replied, as she switched off the standpipe. "We need to get going back to the Museum."

All throughout the day, the other engines of the Museum encountered the mysterious speeding train. Bahamas, an LMS Jubilee visiting from the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway, was rather cross when the train shot by. "Oi! Slow down!" he shouted. "You'll cause an accident going that fast!"

Further down the line, Boxhill was shunting in a yard when the train flew by him, causing him to collide with some wagons. "Ouch!" he exclaimed. "Why is that train in such a rush?"

The train roared past Churchward, a GWR Mogul, as he was out on his test run. "Watch the paintwork!" he shouted. "I've just had this done!"

Much closer to York, Emily, the sole surviving Stirling Single, was setting out on a light passenger working to Doncaster when she saw the mystery train, again shooting past at far too high a speed. The shock caused her brakes to apply, and she skidded to a halt. "Oof!" she said. "That wasn't much fun!"

City of Truro and Flying Scotsman encountered the mysterious train as well. Both of them had their own things to say about them, although Spitfire expressed confusion as to why Scotsman used the expression 'rail raider'.





Later on, at the museum, the engines had gathered to discuss the matter. Thomas recognised several of the drivers, such as Fancy Pants and Spitfire, as well as a girl with white skin and bright yellow hair called 'Surprise', but there were a few he didn't recognise. Bahamas, for instance, was being driven by a girl with yellowy skin and two tone blue hair, with green eyes thrown into the mix, not to mention dressed in the NRM's standard issue electric blue boilersuit. Boxhill, on the other hand, was being operated by a girl with white skin, dark blue hair, and also dressed in a boilersuit. Emily, however, was operated by somebody else entirely. Her driver had pale pink skin and darker pink hair, combined with harsh purple eyes and a purpetual scowl. She wore an outfit that reminded Twilight of the uniform that the drivers of the Culdee Fell Railway wore (which included a girl who looked just like her).

"Well, first off, who was that train?" asked the yellow skinned girl, called Misty Fly (aka Mary Fay). "They broke several rules whilst running at that speed."

"He was big," Churchward offered.

"Not a particularly helpful description," said the pink girl, Fleur de Lis (or at least that was her nickname). "Most of the engines in this yard are big."

"He was painted silver, if that at all helps," Flying Scotsman offered. "It reminded me of something I saw many years ago, when I was a much younger engine."

"Wait, I think Scotsman's getting at something," Spitfire mused. "Painted silver, fast running."

"He certainly was fast!" said Bahamas. "He looked like he was about to tear off the track!"

"Could it be?" asked Boxhill. "I have heard rumours about it, but this would suggest that-"

Suddenly, the chime whistle echoed on the edge of the yard, and a large silver engine backed into the shed, propelling a pair of vintage red coaches which looked LMS in design. He was long, and streamlined, and had the number 2509 painted on his cabside. His nameplate read Silver Link.

"Silver Link?" asked City of Truro. "I thought that engine was scrapped!"

"The original was," said a haughty voice, as a door on the carriage opened and a woman got out. The woman in question looked to be in her fourties, and had a rather odd looking face that had clearly seen far too much plastic surgery for its own good. She had pink skin, blue eyes, purple hair and eyebrows, and wore golden heels, a blue dress, and a golden necklace around her neck. Her entire appearance screamed 'look at me, I'm wealthy'. "This was a replica I had built with the considerable fortune my husband and I have built. Only the best for those at the top, after all."

"And, being Miss Sophie Roberts' private engine comes with so many perks," Silver Link said snottily. "I can go all over the place and not have to worry about a thing, you see."

Twilight thought for a moment. The name sounded awfully familiar.

"Nothing but the best for her ladyship!" said another voice, as a man with purple skin, white hair, and light blue eyes climbed down Silver Link's cab steps. He was wearing a driver's uniform. "I am Randolph the engine driver. Unlike her husband, there is no reason her ladyship should get on the footplate and get herself dirty."

Twilight suddenly made the connection. "Ma'am," she asked, "do you know a Ford Roberts who drives a Class 28 and has a daughter called Danielle?"

The lady snorted. "Of course I do! They are my husband and daughter respectively. Both of them rather forget their station and do dirty work."

"Why are you here?" asked the white skinned girl, High Winds.

"Why, we're having a new summer retreat being built near Shildon, and need a place to stable our private train whilst work is ongoing," the lady said, as she climbed back into the coach. "Now, hurry along Silver Link! I have to be at the opera in an hour!"

"Right away!" called Silver Link, and he puffed out of the yard.

Thomas looked over. "I bet she's spoiled rich," he said.

"That's what we'll call her," Flying Scotsman said. "I don't like the look of that engine either. There's something... snooty about him."

"You said you know her husband, right?" asked Misty Fly. "What's he like?"

"He's pretty normal," Twilight replied. "I just wonder how he ended up marrying that."





Later that day, Thomas and Boxhill were on the line to Scarborough. The engines of the NRM were frequently loaned out to do various other bits of work, and they were moving some bits and pieces to the seaside town.

"That engine really is a nightmare," Thomas complained.

"Tell me about it," Boxhill sighed. "He's so rude!"

"I just hope the others are getting on better," Thomas replied.

Sadly, they weren't. Whenever Silver Link encountered one of the other engines, he insulted them and their crews. That night, the engines called an indigestion meeting.

"He said I was too old to be useful!" Boxhill complained.

"I can back him up on that," High Winds said. "I was there."

"He was constantly running up the rear of my train," Flying Scotsman grumbled. "He was staying in his block, mind, but I had to constantly keep an eye on what he was doing."

"That coat of silver paint looks silly," Churchward huffed. "Swindon green is the only proper colour for an engine!"

"What about Doncaster green?" Flying Scotsman asked.

"He's also very rude," City of Truro grumbled.

"Hear hear!" said Fancy Pants. "He called Truro useless because he was only pulling six coaches! Doesn't he understand that older engines need to take care?"

"I hope we don't see him again," Thomas sighed, as Twilight dropped his fire. "He's very mean and quite conceited."

"And that owner of his doesn't help," Boxhill grumbled. "I'd love to show her what a hard day's work is actually like, as I suspect she's never worked for anything. Good thing her daughter is on Sodor and not here."





The next morning, Thomas had been asked to make a delivery. A formation of wagons was being moved from York to the National Railway Museum's outpost in Shildon, County Durham. As it was, he was the only engine available for the job, and as Twilight attached him to his train, Silver Link flew past with several trucks loaded with building supplies.

"Good thing Spoiled Rich had me built, rather than a tank engine!" he laughed. "If that were the case, the summer retreat would never be finished!"

"Why you-" Thomas growled. He was close to reaching his breaking point with all the insults. "That's it. Couple me up!"

"What are you doing?" City of Truro asked, as he stopped alongside Thomas.

"I'm going to prove I'm just as strong as Silver Link!" Thomas said. "And that means pulling a heavy train!"

"Are you sure that's wise?" asked Fancy Pants. "I daresay that you're only a 3F, and Silver Link is a 7P. He has 14,148 more pounds of tractive effort than you do!"

"Little engines can do big things!" Thomas said, confidently. "I'll put old bossy wheels in his place!"

"This is going to end badly, isn't it?" Flying Scotsman said.

Twilight hopped up onto Thomas' footplate, sounded the whistle, and backed the train out of the yard and onto the main line. "Here we go!" she called. "Shildon bound!"

Boxhill rolled his eyes. "Oh dear," he said.

"We'd best get ready to recover Thomas if need be," Spitfire said. "Churchward, attach to the breakdown train if need be. The rest of you, to work! We've got lots of passengers to carry today!"





Thomas was soon making good time to Shildon. He took the slow line as far as Northallerton, where the slow and fast lines merged, and then proceeded to Darlington Junction, where he was booked to make a pathing stop to let a DMU arrive from Bishop Auckland. Whilst there, Twilight and Lightning Dust (the latter had come along as she had route knowledge that Twilight lacked) conversed with one another. "So, what prompted you to work with the NRM, Dust?" she asked.

"I felt I needed to do something with my life," Lightning Dust replied. "I didn't exactly made the best start, and thought this would be a good thing to do. Helps the local community, and I learn some new skills along the way. So, what's Sodor like?"

Twilight had no chance to reply when the DMU arrived, and their signal changed. "Right, away we go!" she said.

"Be careful! It's quite a steep climb up to Heighington!" Lightning Dust said. "Watch your speed!"

Thomas puffed out of the station with his load of vans, attracting the eyes of onlookers and railway personnel alike as he set off towards Shildon, which was now only a few miles away. He passed the old power station at the lineside and headed north to Heighington. "You were right, Lightning!" he said. "This hill is seriously steep! I don't think I can make it to the top!"

"Keep the pressure up!" Lightning called. Sure enough, they rolled over the summit. Twilight applied the brakes, but they seemed to be having little effect.

"Why aren't we slowing down?" she asked.

Lightning Dust glanced behind her and facepalmed. "The train's too heavy, and not enough of the vehicles are fitted!" she called. "We need to keep speed as low as we can so we can get round the bends and sound the emergency whistle sequence!"

Thomas continued to gain speed, and shot round a bend at far faster speeds than the speed limit permitted. "This isn't looking good!" he called. "There's a junction up ahead!"

"There's an uphill grade all the way into Shildon!" Lightning called. "Set the cutoff to full reverse and use the gradient to slow us down!"

Twilight disengaged the reverser lock, put the reverser into full reverse, and reopened the regulator. Thomas' wheels skidded and thundered backwards as they tried to grip the rails, but the heavy vans pushed him onwards. As he entered the uphill section, Twilight blasted the whistle four times, and they were routed onto an overgrown line just south of Shildon station. They whizzed through trees and woodland, but the gradient and the brakes finally began to have effect, and they came to a stop in the trees. They were battered, but very much unhurt.

"Where are we?" Thomas asked. "I've never seen this before!"

"This is an old freight line, disused but never pulled up." Lightning Dust looked around. "Getting back to the mainline shouldn't be too hard, but-"

Suddenly, there was a voice just beyond. "Hello?"

Thomas jumped. "Who's there?" he asked.

"Hello?" called the voice again. "Is somebody there?"

Lightning Dust waved to Thomas. "Ahead, SLOW." She had uncoupled the wagons and put on their brake blocks to hold them in place. Thomas puffed slowly forward, and cleared a hill when he puffed into a clearing. There was a loop of track, but what was more interesting was the engine sitting in the loop.

It was a tender engine, with two leading wheels, six driving wheels, and two trailing wheels. He had a round topped firebox, parallel boiler, and a flat sided six wheel tender with no side markers. He was very dirty and rusty, so much so that nobody could tell what colour he originally had been. His cabside numbers were illegible, and he had no nameplate.

Thomas had no idea what to say. Thankfully, the other engine did. "Hello," he said. "I heard you coming down the hill just beyond Heighington. I think you bit off more than you could chew, eh?"

"I wanted to prove I was as strong as Silver Link," Thomas said sadly. "The only thing I proved was how silly I am. My name is Thomas. Sorry if I woke you up."

"I'm Green Arrow," the engine replied. "And I appreciate the surprise visit. It's not often I get visitors."

Lightning Dust walked over to the engine. Her jaw dropped in amazement. "You're a V2," she said. "I thought they were all scrapped!"

"Looks like one got away," Green Arrow replied. "Mind you, I've been here a very long time. Longer than you've probably been around. I wouldn't know, I've lost all track of time."

"What is your story?" asked Thomas.

Green Arrow sighed, and began to speak. "I was built at Doncaster in 1936, the first member of my class. I was built for, and named after, a fast freight train called the Green Arrow. That said, I soon found myself working passenger trains as well. I worked all over the LNER network, and eventually for British Railways when I got a new number and a new livery. Then the diesels came."

"What happened next?" Thomas asked. "What did the diesels do?"

"The diesels began to replace steam engines all over the place," Green Arrow replied. "Before long, it was my turn. My cylinder block was cracked, badly, and was due to be scrapped. Luckily, the manager of Shildon works hid me away from prying eyes, hoping to fix me eventually. That was 1962."

"It's 2016 now," Twilight said, looking worried. She felt sorry for Green Arrow, and wanted to help him.

"I've been here over 50 years," Green Arrow said sadly. "And you say all my brothers and sisters are gone?"

"All of them," Lightning Dust replied.

"I'm all alone," Green Arrow whispered, and Thomas could have sworn he saw a tear drop onto Green Arrow's running board.

"I want to help you," said Thomas. "I'll go get the manager of the National Railway Museum, and he'll-"

"You really think I trust any of them?" Green Arrow replied. "Those are the same people who built us and threw us away when they no longer wanted us. How can I be certain they won't cut me up?"

"There are people in the world who love steam engines, and care for them," Lightning Dust said. "I'm one of them. We won't tell anybody else, but we'll get the parts we need to fix you and get you back on the rails."

"That won't be easy," Green Arrow replied. "I haven't worked in years, and most of my parts are in awful shape."

Lightning Dust looked over to Twilight and Thomas. "Drop off the trucks at Shildon," she said. "I'll inspect Green Arrow and establish how much work needs to be done."

Thomas backed away into the undergrowth. He had a new friend, and a friend in need is a friend indeed.