Wog on a Mission

Eyes steeled by duty, Buckles ducked under yet another round of high-fives. His small form darted this way and that, bobbing amidst the jubulant crew. Practiced hands kept the all-important delivery stable and undisturbed.

“Buckles!” came a gruff voice from his left as he made it to the forward lifts.

The lad barked, stopping smartly to attention, “Aye sir!”

A behemoth of a man, rotund and ruddy, leaned against a bulwark, “You alive there, boy?”

“Aye sir?” Buckles answered, eyes shifting back and forth with some uncertainty.

The man grinned, “Then smile e’ry once in a while. Yer too young for stoicism, especially on a monumentous day such as this.”

With a forced smile and a nod came the answer, “Thank-y, Master Gudchen.” Buckles resumed his journey, pondering why the ship’s engineer should care if he smiled or why he should be excited they’d arrived at a place he’d never set foot upon. Also, he reckoned he should look up stoicism.

Arriving at last, he announced, “Yer pre-lunch coffee, cap’n.”

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