Chapter Text
16 July, 2019
Any other day before today, Barrow's station would likely be full of cheery honks and bright greetings from the diesels as Henry pulled in with whatever train he was pulling. He'd uncouple from the train, pull onto the siding on the other side of the platform, and let Northern or DB... er, Cargo take the train, whichever was appropriate—basically the only reason the former kept their Class 37s, for that matter. They'd chatter until it was time to go, apparently Henry was quite more of a joy to talk to than Gordon or James—though to be fair, so were Bear, Ian, Mammoth... really, anyone besides those two, and then Henry would take the new train back to Tidmouth, so on and so forth until the train he'd originally brought came back. Today, though, an unease seemed to blanket the multiple unit, he was pretty sure they were called Pacers, sat on the other track, a locomotive on the other track trying to comfort him. Henry was sorry to block his view, but he'd had a timetable to keep.
"You're looking like you haven't heard the news."
He hadn't.
"Barrow Council's declared a 'climate emergency', coming up with a 5-year plan with all that entails. Y'know, I'd have thought you'd be the most worried about that of all."
Henry looked up, and noted a pretty clean exhaust, much better than the diesels he could have been replaced with. "I'm not that dirty," he puffed, "or at least, haven't been for quite some time. I'd say quite how long, but it is a bit rude to ask an engine their age," he quipped with a smile.
The multiple unit just went on. "Right now they're going after cars and lorries, trying to ban them. Quite something, don't you think?"
Henry didn't pick up on the insinuation. "Sounds like more work for us, then. And honestly, in my experience with cars and lorries and their horrid racket and billows I'd expect out of David,"—David being a Northern Class 37 that wasn't around to have heard himself be mentioned, who was in dire need of maintenance and smoked like a factory—"I'd say good riddance to them."
"Quite. Well, after they're gone, who do you think's going to be making the most smoke? I'm sure you've seen the wind farms they built along our Channel, hundreds of mega-watts, and no doubt they'll be buying nuclear from France. I doubt that we'll have any coal power by 2030. And you've got a third the starting effort of one Class 66."
"Maybe, but one of us can do the work of hundreds of cars for the smoke of ten. I wouldn't be worried too much."
And then, after the last passenger got off, Henry pulled away, leaving the empty coaches sat in the station and nearing the water tower Network Rail graciously set up at the small marshalling yard just north of the station. And yet, his mind still wandered...
"Y'alright?" asked his fireman, Ed. "Been quite quiet after all that."
"Oh, yeah, I suppose so," he said, as he just focused on his filling tender, the cool treated water sloshing against his cistern, eyes pointed toward the station still as he listened to the engine simmer quietly along, building up speed, purple engine looking rather smart pulling their new wood-façade Mark 4s. Maybe these days were numbered too...
The trucks he'd be taking back sat in front of him, two hoppers, a few vans, a decent few more container goods, and a tanker. Nothing he couldn't handle... but as he got coupled to them his eyes shot straight up, trying to see his exhaust as he pulled the train tender-first. He pretty much already knew though, by the fact he was somewhat out of breath trying to get the train started, that it would be somewhat darker than he'd have liked.
And it was.
On the way back, smoke clearing up enough to go white, Henry wasn't exactly brimming with opportunities to distract himself as his smoke turned a sort of ambivalent gray colour, a few cinders flying out every so often. As he pulled over the rail bridge, he turned his eyes south, and sure enough, there were brand new wind turbines going about their business. And then there was the Peel Godred line, long dismissed by the mainline engines as a curiosity not likely to be repeated...
As Vickerstown's... extension of Barrow's urbanisation gave way to plains, Henry tried to remember how it looked way back when, but didn't need to strain himself as he passed through the tunnel at a good pace, coming out into his forest, the bright greens stretching into the sky along rolling hills rather soothing, and in spite of the lingering doubts regarding sparks in the back of his smokebox, let his mind finally wander as he kept up his trip all the way to Tidmouth.
The Fat Controller had heard the news, too. A contract was a contract, and so he'd be secure (and already agreed to) buying and using coal from Mr DeWitt for at least the next three months. After that... who knew how long he'd have left. Looking at the clock, he made sure the hour was reasonable before picking up the phone and dialing in for Rotherham.
Turned out, most of the train was going to Crovan's Gate, anyway. No paint off his boiler as he at least got the chance to run around his train. Forward visibility was quite nice, and he was able to watch Pip and Emma come in with the westbound, which probably meant Gordon was in Barrow now. He wondered what sort of conversations he got up to, as he dropped off a coal hopper, a few containers, and a tank of oil, and with a radioing in, he was off.
So what could he do about the smoke?
As his wheels spun up to speed, he considered what he could do. The main thing that made the smoke was the coal, right? He'd heard something about alternative fuels, but never really pressed them, since he ran just fine and clean on coal... usually. Though, if what the Pacer had said was true, it might get worse and worse quality over time. They'd already gotten a couple worse batches of coal than usual so he knew that wasn't great—Mammoth certainly had quite a problem with it!
He was surprised how quickly he'd arrived at Crovan's Gate. Gordon was coming back from the other direction, with a similar morose look on his face, graying eyebrows held high but the rest of his face slack enough to hide the wrinkles as he vaguely looked toward the tracks in front of him. Henry could be sure of one thing: today's conversation probably looked somewhat like his own.
"Oh," he remembered, since his mind was on this topic, "Ed, how are our schedules looking?"
Ed took out his little pocket notebook and checked. "Looks like we've got a goods from Norramby to Barrow in about two hours, with a return trip another hour after, half of it dropped off at Ballahoo and the rest brought over to Wellsworth. And good job you asked, I'd nearly forgotten!"
Hm. He'd have to sit on his questions a little longer.
But what to ask? He'd somehow doubted that the Fat Controller would just change policy on a whim to suit Henry's; coal worked fine and he had a supplier that was if nothing else consistent in delivery and for a good price, whereas Henry's mind went to public opinion, already imagining the various web-logs and videos slagging them off...
As he dropped his train off at the small yard just past the station platform, he asked how the rest of his week would go, listening to the various jobs he'd be doing, looking out for any long layovers at Crovan's Gate he might be able to slip in...
A couple Kippers to Barrow, aluminium there too though it's headed to Scotland for smelting, a few goods trains back over the week, picking up the Sudrian tomorrow morning for the first westbound, assuming neither Northern nor West Midlands crunch up their coaches while they're off in England. The most notable event would be a quick trip with Bear with a special, all the way to Hull and back at the tail end of the week, Saturday and Sunday. That would be a nice change of pace!
He was still thinking about it when, having reached Ballahoo, they backed down to Norramby, passing by one of Northern's Sprinters headed northbound. He gave a quick whistle, and the Sprinter gave a honk back, trading pleasant smiles as he meandered down to a train of tanks and vans, light work even if both were rather large bogie versions of each. It was all rather pedestrian, and Ed was working well, so he set off with white steam above him and a nice, bubbling boiler.
Maybe things wouldn't be so bad, after all.
"You honestly caught me right on time; I had just... erm, decommissioned two of these engines I just got. Honestly, a shame, they were quite strong, eager engines, but hopefully it helps you out."
The phone call to Rotherham went well, and arrangements were made, but ones that wouldn't come into play for another year. For now, time to call up London. Hopefully, National Rail would see things his way and cooperate. If not... well, he'd tried, and was sure he could use that to his advantage elsewhere.
20 July, 2019
Henry took on the last of the old coal from the bunker, topping off his now full tender, a self-assured grin beaming on his face as he pulled up to the train at Tidmouth that had been arranged for him and Bear the night before by the night crew. "I'm back here!" yelled Bear, who apparently had been part of the rake shunted about at Marsh-knows-when, the long train of the old American coaches needing them both to push and pull to get it started, but once everyone was onboard, they got it rolling, picking up speed in the cool morning air as the burning orange sunlight cast deep blue shadows on everything, laughing to each other all the while. Bear acted as banker up Maronnock and the two were still having quite a fun time as they rushed as fast as was safe past Barrow's station, finally getting to enjoy the "new" sights and sounds of the world outside their little Island.
Oliver had been worked hard the last few nights, and was nearly empty, so was the first to get this week's new coal. By the time he got to Haultraugh, he was coughing, gasping, and billowing black, sneezing a coal dust beard onto himself that made a child laugh. It was a miracle he'd made it to Tidmouth and back at all.