Speak With Privates Miles & Johnson

“Ugh… I never thought I’d miss the ooooooceeeeaaaan” groans Milo as he lays back along the red sands that coat this desiccated landscape.

“You gotta stop that before you get something in your hair, man, you don’t know what’s on this planet” warns Johnson as he picks at a prefab meal, this one in particular being a box containing meatloaf a potato and 5 baby carrots, all of which having been freeze dried.

“Yeah, well YOU don’t either man, and I’m tired of standing around all night… if we’re waiting til morning then we might as well rest up, right..?” Asks Milo though the question is clearly rhetorical.

“Gentlemen? Can I have a word..?” Inquires Sarah as she steps into proximity of their portion of camp, immediately prompting Private Milo to sit up, crossing his legs.

“Oh hey Sarge, sorry I didn’t see you there…” states Johnson as he crosses his arms, turning to face the Sargent now.

“I wanted to see how you were both holding up… the crash can’t have been easy on you..?” Inquires Sarah, in truth, the question needn’t be asked, the answer is obvious, the ship is gone, the lieutenant is gone… but not them.

“To tell you the truth Sarge, we’d probably be dead had you not talked us outta getting in that pod… or at the very least we’d be floating around in space; no food, no water and burning oxygen by the second…” says Johnson, Milo **** to nod along.

“He’s not wrong… yeah, we crashed in the armpit of the planet… but at least we got air to breathe… that’s something… right..?” Adds Milo, casting a glance across the landscape surrounding the camp, red sand and piles of rocks, as though prompted by his statement, a lone harrowing gust of wind shifts the sands.

“It’s looking like we’ll need to start walking once the sun rises, you two gonna be up for the march..?”

“Well, we got 4 working legs with guts all in the right place, so yeah, we’ll be up to move come morning…” states Johnson. His words might have been humorous had it not been for the utter lack of mirth on his face.

“Hey Sarge..? Do you think I could talk Winters into coughing up some Naproleve for sleep…? I can’t stand that noise…” Says Milo glancing over at The Warden, as though to punctuate his point a portion of the ward collapses inwards, creating a hideous metallic screech followed by a boom.

“No can do Milo, we’re gonna need that in case someone gets hurt along the way to the nearest colony.” In times such as this every resource is precious, even painkillers may make the difference between saving a life or being **** to leave a man behind.

“Ugh… alright Sarge… eh, I probably don’t need it… after all who couldn’t fall asleep in those big strong arms, eh Johnson…?” Milo asks, prompting a chuckle from Johnson.

“I will have you know, I’m in a deep, committed relationship, we’re so committed, it’s like their a part of me…”

“You talking about your hand, Johnson?”

“Fuck you…. Maybe.”

“Well… I’ll leave you to it then…” states Sarah before extracting herself from the conversation. It’s best for moral to let the men joke while they can. At least for now.