[Sweeping rewrite #2, 2/11/24]
2084 UNPC universal calendar
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"Yes?" Anton asked the C-series augment, who stood across the table from him in the busy day room of installation 073. It was full of people, having the regular hum of 50 odd conversations going on at once.
"Hello, I'm your new partner." the female augment said, extending a hand, which Anton shook after dropping his pen. "Nice to meet you, sir."
"Do not call me sir, I do not hold a commission" Anton told her, looking away from the After Action Report (AAR) he was writing, and into her eyes.
She was large, standing at six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and a stocky physique, with kind light blue eyes and shoulder length jet black hair, and a broad waist, with strong looking long legs stemming from them as she stood at parade rest, her cover held in her hands behind her back.
Her utility uniform, the standard multicam, bearing a vastly different cut than that of the American uniform it was based off of was pristine, unblemished and without fading in the usual areas. It had three patches on it, a simple "UNPC" in black lettering on the left breast, and "Schmidt" on the right, with a UNPC Augment Corps insignia on the left bicep.
"Probably her garrison uniform, hasn't quite acclimated to the armor yet and doesn't want to wear it all the time" Anton thought.
"How old are you?" He asked.
"I'm 38" they replied.
Anton thought a moment, then replied. "You're green, but that's okay. That just means I won't have to break any bad habits you've learned from others or developed yourself." He said, his voice a kind smooth cadence. He had radio operator school to thank for the clear and confident way he spoke.
"I have got to say, your service history is most impressive, but it said little about who you were, just telling me about what you've done" She said, smiling as she sat at the table next to him. Good, this one knows the file is not the soldier, and the soldier is not the file.
"What's your name" he asked, continuing to write on the laser printed piece of copy paper.
"Kate Schmidt." She replied.
"Callsign?" He asked, pausing his writing.
"Charlie Seven." She replied without skipping a beat.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"Ah, you're the one from Switzerland" Anton said, remembering the small detail from when he flicked his eyes across her file, though he couldn't place when he had.
"What's yours? I only know your callsign." She asked him.
"Anton Schultz" He said, flipping the piece of paper over to fill out the other side.
She stared at the paper, reading what he wrote as he wrote it, and steepled her fingers, hands clasped together as she leaned forward, most of her weight on the table. "So I heard you had a chute failure." She said to him.
"While ago, but that's correct" he replied, nodding as he wrote. "About a year ago, now that I think of it."
"Actually they showed us the video during training." She said..
"Good." he said, moving the piece of paper in front of him to his left, adding it to the growing pile, and picking up another. "Did you know that was the first ever malfunction of a ECA parachute?" He asked. She shook her head. "Last one, too. Didn't happen before, hasn't happened since."
"What town are you from?" Anton asked after a lapse of silence.
"Liestal" She replied, "What about you?"
"Tyrol, Austria." He said, flipping the piece of paper over, and starting to fill out the other side.
"I visited there once as a kid" she said, smiling as she remembered it, staring at the table, letting her minds eye replay the memory. Anton said nothing as he nodded, just moving his pen fluidly across the paper, outlining everything about the operation he'd just been a part of.
His pen skipped twice, and stopped writing all together, just leaving faint, ever so gentile indents across the paper. He grabbed a vaguely hexagonal bottle holding a black liquid from the middle of the table, and rested it in front of him, atop the paper.
"What's that?" Kate asked, squinting.
"Have you never seen ink before?" He asked.
She didn't say anything, just developed an inquisitive, almost scowl-like expression and kept watching him.
"You've really never seen someone use a fountain pen?" He asked looking up at her, his expression genuine.
She shook her head. He just shrugged, uncapped the bottle, then dipped the tip of the pen inside, and twisted the piston filling mechanism at the rear of the pen, drawing ink into the chamber within.
"It's very pretty" she said honestly, but trying desperately to make small talk.
"Thank you." He replied. "The pen was my grandfathers." And with that, a long silence fell as he capped the bottle and wiped the grip section of the pen.
"I will tell you honestly that I work better alone, and I can't help but feel like you'd be better paired with someone else." He said after a while.
"If it means anything to you, I disagree, I think I'll enjoy working with you." She said, looking him in the eyes. He looked at her for a long moment before returning to writing.
"Okay." He said, placing the page atop the growing stack of AAR and "use of force" pages detailing all of the weapons he'd used, and verifying that he hadn't broken international sanctions pertaining to weapon usage.
The Augment Corps probably spends half of their extended lifetimes doing paperwork.
"Aren't you the highest ranking augment?" she asked suddenly.
"No, that goes to Triple A" he replied, "He just got deployed more, we entered service around the same time though."
"I think it'll be nice to get to know you." She said smiling, "I'm told you're quite abrasive, but I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle."
In her saying that one statement, he realized he found the cadence of her Swedish accented deeper than average voice oddly soothing.
"By the way, can you help me move your things into your room at oh-three-eight? They're already delivered there."
Just like that, I'm moving furniture again.