Antumbra - A Lost Cause

Scapegoat - Chapter Eleven

Marcus cleared his screen of the last unit reports, refreshing to see if any last-minute submissions had been made, then closed the monitor. He was normally quite comfortable with paperwork, but he had been especially fastidious today. Nothing could be out of order, nothing missed, nothing that set off a red flag. He smiled. It was all too easy if you knew what you were doing, which almost made him feel guilty. Though if that were ever to prey on his conscience, the young Ensign would most certainly have rated higher. The Ensign had sortied about six hours ago, and was maintaining communication on his long flight towards the forward base. Marcus had left one monitor up to keep tabs on him. He didn't want to miss a moment of what was to come, though it may take longer than he hoped. As Marcus leaned back in his chair he spun to face the window. The bright white clouds below and clear skies above belied the disorder and chaos he dealt with regularly. He enjoyed the view for the superficial relief it brought him, until Cassius entered his office.

"I just heard about the Ensign," Cassius said, leaning on Marcus's desk. "That, uh, really kind of sucks, doesn't it?"

"It's unfortunate," Marcus said, "but necessary."

"I watched the logs of the video call," Cassius leaned back into a stretch, staring at the ceiling. "You sure seemed to take pity on the man."

"I meant every word," Marcus assured his brother, "and I plan to keep my promise about his family."

"Leave that to me," Cassius said, "I can pull some strings, get them set up someplace out of the public eye. New names if need be, considering what's about to come."

"I appreciate it," said Marcus, not taking his eyes off the view.

"The Administration is getting... fidgety," Cassius began. "There's been more inquiries, rumours of moles being planted at every level. It's like an old man putting more and more locks on his door at night."

"It seems they fear the enemies inside their walls more than those outside," Marcus mused.

"You don't need Argonauts to fight those enemies," Cassius remarked, "just a pen and a stamp can send a man to his death."

"The state of our world," said Marcus.

"So much for being the upper class," Cassius hopped off the desk. He stepped towards the window, changing the subject. "By the way, the wife wants you over again."

"How is Selina?" Marcus asked, turning back to his desk, studying the monitor.

"Much better now that her sister's out of town," Cassius chatted, "She won't shut up about you, though, not since you missed our anniversary party. Apparently the card just wasn't enough."

"Perhaps she married the wrong brother?" Marcus joked.

"Remember, I'm not just your brother, I'm your superior," Cassius gave him a grin. "I can knock you down a rank and give you a wedgie at the same time." Marcus knew one of those threats was very real, and smiled to himself as he shuffled through reports on his computer screen so the Ensign's progress was secondary to the latest engagement reports. It had, like almost all their operations, gone off smoothly. Textbook execution by the soldiers, minimal friendly casualties, minimal collateral damage to the Habitat. Yet one thing was troubling him, and it was the timing. The 'Pale Umbra' was mere weeks ago, and usually retaliation was slow, yet a full squad was intercepted only a few kilometers outside the safe zone. It meant their enemies either had stockpiles in excess of their usual force deployments, or they could resupply much faster than previously thought. Neither prospect made the Administration happy, though it suited Marcus just fine.

"Escalation," Marcus mused, "the inevitable in war. You hit your enemy with your fist, they hit you with a stick. You throw a rock at them, they invent the bow and arrow. You create gunpowder, they create the guided missile." He rubbed his head as he leaned back in his chair, turning to face his brother still standing at the window, "you encase yourself in an impenetrable suit of armour, lock yourself off from the world, and carry a weapon in your hand that destroys all in your path, and then what?" Marcus crossed his legs and rested his interlocked fingers on his lap, as if he actually expected an answer from Cassius.