Sodor Military Base, October 17th, 1939.
"Number four?"
"The Pacific? Too large, and too important to the railway industry."
Stroke.
"Number three?"
"Strong engine, but too much of a risk. It was just rebuilt, and I don't want a possible failure messing up our plans."
Stroke.
"What about number one? Or number two?"
"Number one is a shunter, scratch out any shunter. And number two is old. Too old to be of our use."
Stroke. Stroke.
"That leaves one engine left, sir."
"I am aware. The mixed traffic engine. A stubborn worker, maybe time in the military will shape up his act. He is the least essential to the railway. I think we shall chose him."
Tick.
"Good work, send this paper to Topham. We hope to be collecting him soon."
Tidmouth Station, October 23rd, 1939.
"Tommy boy! Where are my coaches!"
"Tommy boy?! You shut your trap, I'm coming! I don't even know why I'm doing this!"
"You know damn well tender engines don't shunt!"
Thomas slammed the coaches into the back of the vain engines tender, making him hiss. Thomas switched tracks and came alongside the train. "I have my own branchline to run. Just grow up and shunt your own coaches."
The bigger engine was just about to comment back, but was cut short by his angry controller. He stepped out of his office, yelling at a man. No, not just a man. It was a military officer.
"The is pathetic! You don't have enough of your own engines to fight with, so you decided to take some of mine! I won't allow it!" The officer took of his hat, and held it in his hands.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but you don't have a choice in this situation. As of now you are still part of the UK, and as the draft takes place over all of it, Sodor is included. It is only one engine. The others have been deemed... Useless, for our operations."
Sir Topham glared at the officer as he put his hat back on.
"You will tell him tonight, and we will collect him tomorrow morning." And with that, he left the station platform.
The two engines were staring at there angry controller, and when he looked over at both of them, they didn't look away fast enough.
"Thomas, I believe you have a branchline to run?" Thomas looked over at the tender engine and smirked.
"Tooooold you~"
Thomas! now!"
Thomas huffed and left the station. Sir Topham looked at the train of coaches, then at the engine pulling them.
"I suspect you overheard that conversation?" The engine hummed a response.
"I'm afraid what he said is true. I'm gathering all the engines at Vicarstown tonight, I hope you will show up on time."
Before the engine could answer, Sir Topham spun on his heels, and returned to his office. Then, the guards whistle blew, and the red engine set off down the line.
Vicarstown Sheds, Eight Hours Later.
The sun had just about set when The Fat Controller's car pulled up at the sheds. All the engines were wondering what was going on. Well, almost all of them.
"I wonder what's going on? We're almost never called here."
"I bet it's work related, since that's our main job."
"Main job? Edward, what do you do on our free time? Do you play chess? Go on walks?"
"Gordon you don't have to be such an asshat-"
"SILENCE!" Sir Topham Hatt stood in front of all his engine, with a stern look on his face. The engines did as they were told, and ceased their talking.
He began pacing the sheds, walking past all his engines. "As you all know, we have just enter war with the Axis parties. As Sodor is still considered part of the UK, we have been involved in a drafting."
He paused, and lowered his hat from his while looking away from his engines. "And that means one of you will be leaving tomorrow to join the army."
The engines gasped, and began murmuring to each other about who it might be. Sir Topham couldn't get a hold on them. They starting asking him questions, raising their voices and yelling. Except for one engine, who sat in silence, as if he already knew. Sir Topham put two fingers in his mouth, and blew out a sharp whistle. The engines once again went quiet.
"I did the best I could to stop them, but they wouldn't allow it. They're only taking one of you, so be grateful for that."
He began to slowly make his way past all the engines. "I hope you do good. Show that Sodor engines are more than just machines." He stopped.
He turned and looked at the engine in front of him, earning a gasp from the others.
"Make us proud, James."