"I don't know how much of this footage can be used. I bet everyone would love to have a nice, neat documentary. I know there are those who would want to see a sanitized version of this conflict. In some ways, I suppose it would be easier to just wave a flag or even a magic wand and kind of wish away all of the ugliness to be found here."
Carlos rubbed his eyes. "I would have loved an easy way out here. And I almost thought that would be the case, when I took this freelance assignment. I thought it would be all rah-rah and maybe a bit jingoistic. And I would pack up and be done with it and easily move onto my next assignment."
He sighed. "But it's hard to not be affected, or to see what could have happened if one thing, or another, was different. These people certainly see it that way. And the reality is that this is, for the most part, just a ship full of damaged people. I know that there are those who are happy and excited about the conclusion of this war. I can't say that I haven't felt my own sense of relief, for I most certainly have. But I think we, as humans and citizens of Earth, I think we need to keep these people's thoughts and aspirations and guilt and personal pain in our heads as we wave our flags and sing the United Earth anthem. We need to remember that these heroes come complete with consciences, and miseries and regrets. This victory did not come without a price. Thank you." There was a coffee cup on a table nearby, and he knocked it across the filming room, hard.
Cut to black.