<USS Avalon> "Secret Wisdom" (Woodward)

Secret Wisdom
Bobby Woodward
2007:11:06


Bobby Woodward emerged from his small office behind the bar of the
officers' lounge aboard the Avalon, and looked around.  Not
surprisingly, the place was empty -- most of the Avalon's officers and
crew were taking advantage of the brief shoreleave time offered on
McKinley Station.  He set the controls for the main doors, behind the
bar, and closed them.  The trio of Exo-comps who served as his
assistants, made their way over to the bar and chirped questions at
him.

"I'm getting pulled for another assignment," he said.  "Just got the
word now."  The chirping increased in speed and volume until Bobby
raised a hand.

"Wait a sec.  No, it wasn't my idea.  Yes, I know we just got here.
They said something about us going into a potential war zone, but just
between us, I'm not sure I believe it, because yes, they did say
where.  Cardassia Prime."

This time he waited for the storm of electronic disbelief to abate a
bit before he said, "I know.  But they've got so many ships involved
in the rebuilding, the USO is setting up a transfer and leave station
in orbit.  We've got the gig, and that's all there is to it.  We gotta
get our stuff packed up and off the ship before the Avalon leaves
McKinley."  He looked at his chron.  "Should be just enough time."

Six and a half hours later, sweat had made a fine sheen across the top
of Bobby's head, and even the Exo-comps looked weary, somehow.  But
all the contents of the lounge which were Bobby's personal possessions
-- cases of fine alcohol and other food and beverages, cooking and
serving gear, a few changes of clothes, and the big trivia board
(broken down to its components for re-assembly later) -- had all been
packed and stacked on the grav-sled, ready to be hauled to the shuttle
bay.

The trio of sentient machines gathered around Bobby as he pulled his
data tags out of the jukebox.  Hap spoke for all three of them.  "You
do?  Well, I guess I can't blame you.  Sounds like it'll be a real
adventure, when you get a chance to get back to it.  And the deal
always was, you guys are free agents.  Good luck.  Can I ask you one
last favor?  Record and carry a message for me?"

At Hap's affirmative chirp, Bobby grinned, using his apron to wipe the
sweat off his head.  He exchanged the apron for his leather jacket and
said, "All right, I'm ready."

The Exo-comp turned on his recorder, and Bobby said, "Hello, Miss
Erridim.  Sorry we didn't get a chance to work on those dance lessons.
 The USO has called me off on a new assignment, and it's hard to say
when I'll be back this way.  Pity.  Dancing's good for the soul.
Hopefully whoever you get to run the officers lounge will be a decent
sort.  By the way, I've given the management of the main lounge a good
talking to.  Bad attitudes are bad for everybody.

"By the time you get this you'll have figured out that Hap is staying.
 He says you and the Engineering folks still need him, so he'll be
here.  His choice, as I'm sure he'll tell you.   Geisha and Monad wish
you the best of luck too.

"They tell me I'm supposed to be good at giving advice in this job.  I
have no idea how good any of my advice is -- haven't found too many
folks willing to hear it, at least not yet.  But, just so I can say I
did, I'll share with you a thought from a fellow plain vanilla
Earthling, from a few hundred years back.  I've always found it true.
Goes something like, 'The world is mostly composed of pleasant people.
They are particularly likely to be nice if you are nice to them. This
is now some kind of secret wisdom, because the culture of fear
preaches the opposite message.'

"Be well, Miss.  Be happy.  I know you can."  He grinned once more.
"Woodward out."

He glanced at his chron.  "Yowch!  We're gonna have to sprint for it."
 Geisha and Monad settled themselves on top of the grav-sled, and
Bobby grabbed the handle, hauling it quickly out of the lounge and
toward the shuttle bay.


[Bobby is moving on, but Hap the Exo-comp is staying behind.  He
should now be considered an NPC under Raymond's control.  --Jamie]

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