Speak With Private Fischer

Sarah approaches the private as he takes a swig from his protein drink, grimacing as he swallows it with utmost ****.

“Oh… hey Sarge… You hungry..? Do yourself a favor, don’t grab a bottle of Bug Juice… I thought I was being nice, not taking up some of the nice chow… I ain’t making that mistake again…” he says as he tosses the half empty bottle aside, presumably saving it for after his stomach settles down.

“I’ll pass Private… I could ask Sinclair if he can’t put together something better, maybe a prefab?” Asks Sarah, hands on her hips as she glances over the small dune Fischer has set up camp on.

“Eh… you’re sweet Sarge but I’ll live… besides sooner or later we’ll have to get by on this shit anyway…” he says shooting a glare at the bottle laying in the red sands.

“I was also wondering how you’re holding after the crash..?” Inquiries Sarah as she takes a seat on the dunes next to Fischer.

“Eh… as well as anyone else I guess… {if PFC Cruz Is Alive = 1} …Better then Cruz that’s for sure… {endif} …It’ll make a good entry for the war journal though, huh..?” He says with a wry grin.

“War journal..?” Prods Sarah, elbows resting on her knees as she glances across the camp, Cho busily examining the squads Inventory, Sinclair pacing back and forth, agonizing over his selection and Winters still silently consumed by the **** of Gonzales.

“Oh yeah, the war journal… I got the idea back in boot camp… I’m thinking once I’m done with all this shit I’m gonna write a book… you know..? So at the end of each week I write down all the important shit… I reckon this’ll make a damn good entry… hell maybe it’ll be a whole chapter..?” He states, reaching behind his back and placing a worn looking journal into Sarah’s hands.

“You got a passion for writing huh..? What’s the books gonna be about? Autobiography? A book about what it’s like in the corps..?” Asks Sarah as she pulls open the book, skimming through its many pages.

“Eh… little of column A, a little of column B… who knows..? Maybe it’ll convince a few kids from throwing their lives away dying to protect some corporations interests…” Those words are suspiciously similar to what Lieutenant Hewitt said in the mess hall. Apparently the anti corporate sentiment runs deep here.

“Why’d you join the corps Private..? You don’t seem to have much love for the USCM…” Prods Sarah as she hands back the journal.

“Eh, I wasn’t always so jaded, I fell for the same sales pitch every marine falls for, I thought I’d get to be a hero, arresting smugglers and stopping uprising all while getting paid.. well… wasn't long before I learned most ‘Smugglers’ are more often then not just local businesses trying to scrape by and most uprisings are just folk that wanna have the life they were promised by their corporate masters… as for the pay? Ha… so much for that…” his words are tinged with sorrow and regret as he speaks.

This isn’t anything Sarah hasn’t heard before, plenty of marines that retire tend to crop up years later, leading uprisings, raiding corporate vessels and assassinating execs using all the training and experience they’ve accrued over years of service.

“With the situation being what it is, I gotta ask… is this gonna be a problem going forward? We’re more likely then not gonna have to charter a CORPORATE vessel…” the implication is clear.

“No Sarge… you don’t gotta worry about me… I can keep a lid on it…” he says with a small chuckle, as though the question had well and truly come out of nowhere.

“Alright Private… I’ll take you at your word, just remember we’re marines… we’re here to help EVERYONE, not just the little guy…” States Sarah as she rises to her feet, ending the conversation on that note.