Antumbra - A Lost Cause

Applying Pressure - Chapter Twenty Seven

Marcus stared at Antumbra, watching the technicians in hazmat suits process the stream of information as it downloaded from the machine. When he heard the black box had been discovered, he'd rushed to inspect the information himself, only to be disappointed when it was finally decrypted. They were still scouring, but the combat records were wiped, and any information pertaining to the pilot or the missions the Argonaut ran was lost. What data they had gleaned was interesting but largely pointless. Performance specs, weapon capabilities, classification numbers, all of which scrolled across Marcus' handheld. He directed his gaze from the window to the device, and read the data as it was transmitted to him. The first piece of information they extracted was the full model number, XXMCM-003 ANTUMBRA, which stood for "Experimental Exo Motion Control Maneuverability." Nothing new or ground-breaking, though the weapons capabilities were mildly interesting. It had limited onboard armaments, but it was performance-tested almost exclusively with melee implements. Marcus had hardly heard of an Argonaut using melee weapons outside a last resort, even given the age of the unit, advanced projectile and particle weapons were readily available at that point in history. Indeed such things were what led to the war where Argonauts were developed, but what really caught Marcus' eye was the reactor. The Antumbra's power source wasn't leaking radiation as they first thought, it was producing it in excess on purpose along with the suit's power. Why such a wasteful flaw seemed to be intentionally designed into such an otherwise well-developed unit escaped him, yet it had survived at least one thousand years and the reactor was still producing with no decay or destabilization. A thorough scan had deemed the radiation levels to be only marginally beyond normal background levels, but for the staff's sake and general safety measures he had insisted the Argonaut remain in the shielded silo and all technicians wear protective gear. The radiation itself was a mystery, and he didn't want anyone suffering from what could be some type of passive defensive measure to deter tamperers.

"Marcus," Cassius's voice came from behind his brother. Marcus hadn't even heard him enter, too engrossed in the decrypting to notice. Cassius seemed anxious, "the Administration is requesting a conference."

"Tell them I'm busy," Marcus said flippantly. It had taken so long to find this hidden cache of data, he didn't want to miss a thing.

"It's urgent," Cassius said, his normal aloof tone had a grievous seriousness to it, "The IRT have issued an open statement."

"How bad?" Marcus turned, suddenly more interested.

"They say we've breached the treaty," he stated with a stern expression Marcus had rarely glimpsed, "and are making threats."

"I'm on my way," Marcus closed his handheld. The Antumbra would have to wait it seemed, and he followed his brother back to the main room. Along the way he considered what this meant. No doubt he was referring to the Bering Treaty, signed nearly two hundred years ago, which forbade the Habitat governments from deploying military strikes from the surface. It was meant to safeguard against attempts to sink the Habitats from assaults from below. As a result, aerial combat was used exclusively, and so began the endless back and forth. The Argonaut piloted by the disgraced Ensign was, despite being disastrous, a fluke and not any attempt on the IRT or any other sovereign Habitat from ground level. Clearly they did not see it that way. There had been rumours that the current leadership in the Independent Republic of Territories were more radical, and wanted the treaty breached in order to attack the Global Democratic Union's central Habitat all out, but were afraid of allied retaliation if they broke it themselves. This incident could be used as an excuse to place blame of the breach squarely on the shoulders of the GDU, an outcome Marcus had predicted.

"Took you two long enough," the Prime Minister said as they entered the main room. Technicians toiled away at their computers while the Prime Minister's image filled the main screen, Marcus snapping to attention before her.

"Where are the other members of the Administration?" Asked Marcus.

"I couldn't wait for them," she said, "myself and Commander Cassius Benoit will have to be enough. The Admiral is nevertheless aware and the Chairman will be notified. I'm pulling strings just to get this done formally at all, but we're running out of time."

"It's bad, then," Cassius said.

"EWAD Argos have visuals on at least three sorties from the IRT Habitat, heading to the surface," the Prime Minister explained, referring to the Early Warning And Detection variants of the machines used for long range spying and communication. With communication across the wastes impossible without line-of-sight relays, piloted machines were needed in order to pass information securely via laser link. Satellite imagery was useless with cloud cover, and thermo-scans were unreliable in hot spots, not to mention easily fooled.

"The forward operations should take care of them," Marcus said. IRT units deploying straight from the source were sometimes hard to spot, but easily intercepted.

"Two were stopped by our Atlantic blockade," the Prime Minister explained, "but one slipped by, and none of our units can track them. I have no idea how." The Prime Minister removed her glasses, letting them hang by the chain around her neck. She seemed deathly serious, "The message states that we broke the treaty intentionally, and used one of their suits to shift the blame."

"Their suits?" Marcus asked, "the rogue Argonaut was a Union model. It and the pilot were well-documented, even in media coverage."

"Well they're saying different," she replied, "said they have proof an IRT energy signature was recorded at the point of impact."

"And where's this proof?" Cassius asked.

"Apparently their word is enough to break a two hundred year old stalemate," the Prime Minister sighed, visibly frustrated, "Captain Marcus Wilhelm, you'll have to get one of your special teams on this. You have full authorization."

"Of course, ma'am," Marcus began, "I have most units deployed South, where the last attack came from. As soon as they're within landline range we'll rally a sweep."

"The Admiral's forces are expediting resupply," the Prime Minister said, "you'll have backup soon enough. And Captain," she said, replacing her glasses, "no more blunders. This is your chance to make amends. Don't waste it."

"I understand," Marcus saluted, "consider it done, ma'am." The screen winked off and Cassius turned to Marcus.

"I'll do what I can," Cassius said as Marcus began to quickly walk out of the room, "that sortie is, at most, a week away. I can contact any escort units on return-"

"It won't be soon enough," Marcus hit the door release and it hissed open, "and it won't be necessary."

"What are you going to do?" Cassius asked. Marcus simply turned and gave his brother a sly smile.

"Call in a specialist."