Metal Monsters by G. D. Stark

Author:G. D. Stark [Stark, G. D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Castalia House
Published: 2018-07-08T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“Their attacks just aren’t making sense,” I said, looking over a map Ward had projected on the wall in the mess room. “They’re taking territory in pieces here and there, then hitting a little factory or something, killing a few guys, then moving back out. I’m not seeing any sort of coherent offensive.”

I’d successfully pawned off my officer screening assignment to Squid, since Captain Yost agreed it was more important for us to figure out exactly what the Axiosi and their cyborg buddies were up to. After several days of research and analysis with little to show for it, I’d gathered some of the guys together to have a few drinks and throw a few ideas around.

I pointed at a large fuel refinery. “They could have hit that, but they went around and blew up a small college instead. Over here,” I said, pointing at a section of green, “there’s a huge buried cable line that provides a lot of power to the capital, coming from the geothermal station up north. They marched over it, bypassing the transformer station here, then trashed a manufacturer of foil display screen tech.”

“Those are used for mobile surveillance centers,” Ward said. “Isn’t that what we used when we tracked that butterfly priest that Vero blasted to death?”

“Not quite the same thing. Those you can crinkle up and then un-crinkle and stick to a wall. These are made to be permanent fixtures. It’s the kind of overlay that goes inside a windscreen display. A laminate layer with embedded image projection.”

“So it’s just a commercial outfit?” Jones asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “They supply a lot of civilian automobile and hovercraft, some space transports. Minor military contracts for the tech, but something like 95 percent consumer sales, when I looked up the numbers.”

“Not worth hitting compared to a refinery,” Ward said, finishing a swig of beer and popping another top. Pitt had commandeered a few dozen twelve-packs from somewhere and quietly installed them in the motel’s commercial fridge, much to the chagrin of the staff. “They could have hit that cable, too.”

“Right. And if you look here,” I zoomed in and pointed to a red X on top of a cluster of buildings, “you’ll see a zero-friction bearing company was nailed. It’s not even a manufacturer, just an importer of parts manufactured in the Kantillon asteroid belt. They’re used in cranes and other industrial high-stress joints. Another hit was here,” I pointed to another red X. “A superconductor facility. They also bombed a little government archive up here,” I said, pointing to yet another strike. “They’re not even holding the territory. They come in, hit the target, then retreat to a fortified position.”

“What the hell,” Jones said. “It’s almost like they’re just nailing things at random.” He’d rejoined us after a local doc put him in the de-concusser or whatever that big tube thing is where they work on your head. He didn’t seem to make any less sense than usual, as far as I could tell.

“Maybe they’re just trying to lure the knights into ambushes,” Edgerton said.

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