Truro is home to a small goods yard which processes local supplies for the city. Once, it was handled by whatever engines were in the region at the time, but this was inneficient as it meant there were long periods where the trucks were not sorted out. All of this changed when Brookes was rescued. He is allocated to this yard, and is very good at his job.
"Not to different to the old chemical works, this!" he said, as several trucks rolled to a stop in a siding.
Argyle leaned out of his cab. "You're very good at keeping these trucks in line," he said. "Often they are silly."
"The old chemical tankers wouldn't dare be silly," Brookes replied. "One wrong move and we could all get blown up!"
There was a blast of a horn, and a very small diesel with six driving wheels and a rear mounted cab rattled to a halt. He was painted blue, with British Railways' 'Arrows of Indecision' painted upon his bodywork. He even had a five digit number upon him.
"Nice place, this," he said, as he took note of his new surroundings. "Makes a change from urban Essex."
"Have we met before?" Brookes asked.
"Don't believe so," the diesel replied. "My name's Nigel. I've been sent to help you with your work up here."
Brookes scoffed. "Help me? I can handle this place fine on my own."
"Time will tell," Nigel said, as a person leaned out of his cab.
"Hello there," she said. She was a woman with bluish skin and purply hair, all hung rather chaotically along her face. Her eyes were reddish orange and seemed quite intense. In addition to her jacket and pants she was wearing a red beret.
"I see Jack Keroac has joined us," Argyle joked.
"It's Onyx, not Jack," the woman replied. "I'm a poet in my spare time, but Keroac is one of my favourite writers. His approach is writing, not typing, after all."
"Shall we get to work?" Nigel asked. "No use sitting about here and talking all day."
After half an hour of shunting, work quietened down for a bit, and the two engines got to talking.
"Did you see that boat?" Nigel asked.
"Boat?" Brookes asked in confusion. "Boats don't normally come up this far. They go to Newham.
"No. Boat. It's an acroynm. Bit off a Tractor." His eyes glanced over to a buffer nearby. "That came off a Class 37. I imagine you didn't know that acronym."
"No, 'cause you just made it up," Brookes countered.
"Fresh delivery incoming!" called Argyle, as he saw Sophie rattling into view pulling a long line of hoppers.
"I don't know what the world is coming to!" Sophie said, as she rolled to a stop in the goods loop. "These trucks are something else!"
"Were they giving you trouble?" Onyx asked.
"They weren't half giving me trouble!" Sophie answered. "Especially that large one at the back!"
Their attention was drawn to a gigantic hopper attached to the train. It was so large it was mounted on two bogies, and was much taller than any model of truck they had ever seen. The sides were held up by metal rods, and the truck was scowling.
"He doesn't seem like a happy customer," Argyle commented.
"Tell me about it!" Pipp added. "I'll need a shower after all this with all the dust he's been throwing about!"
"Perhaps don't wear designer clothes whilst driving, then!" Nigel joked, and the rest of the yard burst out laughing.
"Whatever, he's your problem now," Pipp replied, as she uncoupled the train and reboarded Sophie's cab. Before long, she was back on her way down the line.
"Right, let's get this lot sorted out," Brookes said.
They sorted the coal trucks at the front of the train, who seemed to be worried. "Big, bad, strong and torrid! That truck's name is Hector Horrid!" they said.
Onyx rolled her eyes. "Your poetry needs some serious work. Torrid isn't even a real word."
"Well, I needed something to rhyme with horrid, didn't I?" said the first truck.
"Poetry doesn't need to rhyme to be poetry," Nigel said, unhelpfully.
Eventually, they got to the big hopper, who by process of elimination they figured out to be Hector.
The truck continued to scowl at them. "Keep away if you know what's good for you," he said.
"Should we move him?" Brookes asked.
"What sort of a question is that?" Argyle asked. "If he's sat there, goods trains can't get onto the siding and drop off the trucks we need. We'll have to move him."
Brookes advanced closer to Hector, who seemed to still be displeased.
"Are you deaf? Back up and keep away."
Brookes decided to try diplomacy. "If this line stays blocked by you, other trains can't get in. This will prevent other goods from being delivered."
"Don't know, don't care," Hector replied.
Something inside Brookes snapped. Before anybody could react he charged towards Hector with incredible speed, knocking him clean off the rails.
There was a momentary silence. Then Nigel spoke. "That was about the worst way you could have handled that one."
Later that day, a crane came up to clean up the mess and get Hector back onto the rails. Luckily, no other freight trains had been required to access the yard, and Hector wasn't too badly damaged in the crash.
But Brookes felt awful. "What a mess," he said. "Yes, he was being rude, but my response wasn't exactly proportionate to the situation."
Hector also didn't seem to be his previous self, and had spotted a familiar face. "Is that you, Nigel?" he asked.
"I didn't recognise you at first," Nigel admitted, "but now I do recognise you. What brought you all the way down here?"
"You know him?" Brookes asked.
"He's an ICI hopper, designed to transport limestone. I knew him when I was an ICI engine myself, allocated to Tunstead in the Peak District. But what is causing you to act this way?"
Hector sighed. "I figured it didn't matter whether I made a good impression or not. Whenever I arrive in a new place, I always get moved on within a few weeks anyway. Probably won't be long until they scrap me anyway."
"Change is often scary," Onyx admitted. "But that doesn't give an excuse to be mean to others. We're all marching into the light, burning, burning light the intense light of the sun whilst the sky dances with fireworks of joy and we shuffle from our place of rest onwards into the day."
There was a moment's silence. "I take it that took a lot of practice."
"Nope, just made it up on the spot."
After all that was cleared up, things returned somewhat to normal at the yard, with the engines and trucks working together well. And they all learned an important lesson that day. If something is a problem, it never hurts to speak your mind and tell others how you feel.