It Takes All Sorts || Social Thread

Being that none present could think of any viable reason to detain him, Anselm’s withdrawal was relatively swift and painless. The lieutenant, unable to offer any refusal, had almost reluctantly forfeited the digital cipher before being whisked down another corridor. Alone, the German cadet found it easier to breathe. It wasn’t that he disliked crowds; his lifestyle was too turbulent to be leery of dense populations. No, his dilemma was far more mundane in that he disdained of any occasion where his surname evoked undue interest. Too many instances where he had been held captive in social circles due to the weight he carried as heir to a small empire.

Shaking off the displeasure, the blonde turned on his heel and proceeded back the way the group had come. There was no way to memorize these halls after such a brisk look-see and he had to repeatedly pause in order to reassess his location in the building. It was nearly fifteen minutes later that he finally found himself outside amongst the roaring of cargo ships and various aerial crafts banking or taking off.

Not wanting to distract those working along the airstrip, he hurried off to the designated hanger. Forklifts towed a variety of military paraphernalia, all of which he was due to inspect and confirm before allowing them onboard. It would be no less tedious than the tour he suspected but there was a lesser probability of anyone trying to express the innumerable differences between an 8-1-7 AL-unit particle beam and a G6 Scepter plasma rifle.

Anselm couldn’t have looked less enthusiastic about his job had he tried, albeit one couldn’t really identify any perceptible emotion to begin with. His features remained set in their perpetual mold of dignified resolve. The German’s dark carmine-colored eyes were focused on the printed script scrolling off the translucent screen when a soft, but clear, “Excuse me,” drew him away.

The speaker was…interesting. Recognition flared and died as quickly as it had come as he faced off with a boy whose age he was afraid of even make an educated guess at. One thing was for certain, the boy (said with hesitance) was of his platoon – the small patch on his uniform was all he needed to see.

“The pleasure is mine.” He murmured back, the brush of an accent was thick in his words but not enough to muddle his speech. Anselm returned the bow, if slightly more reserved as he only really inclined his head in the motion. “I am Cadet Anselm Koenig.” There was the barest of pauses before having given his surname, he would prefer to be as anonymous as possible but he didn’t want his hesitance to be misinterpreted as shame.

“Lieutenant Jeffery didn’t mention that we would be receiving another member, from where were you station prior if you don’t mind my asking.” Because it would be quite the breach in security if this slightly-but-not-quite-familiar cadet turned out to be something other than what he deigned to say.

Well, that was certainly interesting. Anselm quietly marveled at the smaller man’s utter lack of outward response to the information he had been given. For a moment the large cadet seemed taken aback by the easy nonchalance, blinking curiously down at the other with newfound intrigue.

Was it possible that the young man had no idea who he was? A discreet search of the boys face revealed nothing but patient indifference, an expression often enough times worn by himself but somehow odd to see one another. Even so, it was oddly warming that Aeon didn’t seem intimidated by him.

There was a slight tension in the blonde’s eyes as his question was answered. The delivery was flawless, spoken without inflection, something that warped his curiosity into silent mistrust. Granted Anselm was suspicious by nature and would find reason to doubt the legitimacy of any statement not proven, he refrained from making a scene. “Understood, I will send a link to Lieutenant Jeffery’s and alert him of your arrival.” Smooth, professional, something that he found comfort in whenever there was uncertainty.

He allocated his attention to the cipher still clutched in his right hand, the digital pad all but forgotten until that moment where it was useful. It took a moment for his fingers to unearth the ComLink function through the stream of data being funneled into the device but once found the rest was relatively straightforward. “Lieutenant, I have here a Cadet Aeon Yoshita in the hanger, he says he was assigned to our unit.” Being that the inbuilt speaker did not allow for private conversation he omitted the part about where the newcomer had said he was from in case it was sensitive information. “Noted, take him with you on your assignment and report back to the main floor when finished, understood?”

Oh, that should be fun.

Anselm nodded before realizing his CO couldn’t see him, “Understood, Sir.” He shut down the COM Link, looking blankly at his new partner. “You will be accompanying me for the moment Cadet Aeon as I supervise the cargo loading, after which we are to rejoin the group on the main floor of the facility.” It shouldn’t take to long but what would he have the teen do in the meantime?

“Were you issued a cipher?” he inquired, holding up his own for emphasis. “I can synchronize them so that we can perhaps finish quicker.”

Anselm’s only response was an affirmative nod. Little else needed to be said as far as he was concerned and he wasn’t one for idle banter nor was he truly capable of registering the silence between them as awkward.

The cipher’s inventory file transferred without a hitch, the model in Aeon’s possession sparked little interest as he assumed the function was primarily the same and he couldn’t be certain of the simplicity of the newer version in comparison to the handheld. If possible he liked things to be as uncomplicated as one could reasonably make any of the technology in use and he balked at having to learn entirely new, occasionally useless, functions that came with upgrades.

‘What is my impression of you?’ Anselm’s eyes narrowed a fraction. He’d known the boy all of three minutes, two of which spent speculating the legitimacy of anything that was said, he hadn’t built much of an opinion as of yet.

Any opportunity to respond was stolen from him as the magnetization of the hanger caused a trill of discomfort to crawl over his skin as energy pulsed around them. It was perhaps his least favorite sensation as it felt like someone had strapped a thin layer of plastic over his skin.

With nothing more to do the blonde shook his head and proceeded as per orders, worrying over the question despite every effort made to distract his mind with the given task. Swapping out his army-issued boots for the psionic shoes, he swiftly came to grips with the sudden weightlessness as the anti-gravity field took full effect. At one time such technology was confined to the fevered dreams of engineers and now it had become a universal, if not a collectively dependent, reality. He eased himself through the air, letting the real-time relay application scan the bar code numbers as he cargo was pushed past him.

As he floated closer to his fellow Cadet he said plainly, “I do not have one.” seemingly uncaring of how the remark was interpreted.

“You are a Cadet younger than I. That is the extent of my thoughts where you are concerned,” which therein translated to ‘Not as far as I can throw you’ in terms of possible sentiments of camaraderie. To say more than this would seem rude, he doubted that Aeon would want to hear of his speculation or that he had equated him to a well-made automaton.