The First Abortion

Lin Yuan said this in mid-February.

Three weeks later, March 6, C.E. 71, 811 Institute Comprehensive Testing Ground.

The fourth test launch of the Thunderclap Project finally achieved shell exit. After striking the target, the rocket propellant grain ignited normally, the implosion structure detonated at the preset depth, and extensive cracking appeared across the back of the target plate.

Fang Heping clenched his fists inside the bunker and could not speak for a long time.

But Lin Yuan had no time to celebrate.

That same afternoon, the Black Armor Project's preliminary results were delivered to the other end of the comprehensive testing ground.

An MS frame hung from the test platform, its joints covered in dark gray experimental armor plates. The surface was rough, and traces of hand welding were visible along the seams.

This was not a finished product.

This was 811 Institute's first prototype validation unit.

Project codename: Black Iron.

Han Zheng emerged from the changing room in a flight suit. Before he had even finished putting on his gloves, Sheng Lan stopped him at the corridor entrance.

"Han Zheng, did you review today's test procedures?"

"I did." Han Zheng tightened his gloves, his voice neither hurried nor slow. "Maximum power load test. Duration: three minutes."

"How is your physical condition?"

"I passed my physical six hours ago."

Sheng Lan looked at him.

Han Zheng was thirty-two, a vanguard pilot of the East Asian Space Force's 7th MS Squadron. Last year, during a United Army exercise, a malfunction in the Short Sword control system had nearly left him scrapped at the target range. After recovering from his injuries, he had voluntarily applied to join 811 Institute's test flight team.

He was not tall, but broad-shouldered, with calluses on his palms.

"Han Zheng, maximum power means the frame will bear one hundred and twenty percent of its designed maximum load. The vibration and G-forces in the cockpit will far exceed those of routine testing."

"Director Sheng, I understand."

"If you feel unwell, report it immediately."

The corner of Han Zheng's mouth twitched.

"Don't worry."

He walked toward the test platform, climbed the external boarding frame, and entered the cockpit.

The metallic clank of the cockpit hatch locking shut echoed across the testing ground.

Inside the control room, Lin Yuan stood before the observation console. The screen in front of him was divided into four sections, displaying frame stress distribution, joint actuator temperature, power output curves, and Han Zheng's vital signs.

Sheng Lan stood one step to his right, gripping the physical switch for the communications cutoff device.

"Begin the test sequence." Lin Yuan's voice came through the control room broadcast.

"Received. Beginning the test sequence." Han Zheng's voice came back over the cockpit channel.

The frame's plasma-assisted power unit began operating, its low hum penetrating the soundproof walls of the testing ground.

Forty percent power.

The frame's joints began carrying out their preset movements according to the program. The left arm rose, the right arm shifted sideways, and the waist twisted.

Sixty percent power.

The movements widened, and the joint actuator temperatures began to climb.

Eighty percent.

A faint metallic tremor came from the cockpit, and Han Zheng's heart rate rose from seventy-two to eighty-five.

"Everything is normal," Han Zheng reported.

One hundred percent.

The design limit. The Ceramic Steel armor plates on the frame gave off faint stress creaks, and slight elastic deformation was visible along the seams.

"Rated power reached," a technician reported.

Lin Yuan stared at the screen.

"Raise it to one hundred and twenty percent. Maintain for three minutes. Start timing."

The power continued to rise.

The frame's vibration frequency changed, shifting from a low hum into a high-frequency tremor. Even the fixing bolts across the entire test platform were beginning to loosen slightly.

Han Zheng's heart rate jumped to one hundred and ten.

His breathing rate accelerated.

Thirty seconds.

"Director, the pilot's blood pressure is rising," a technician reported.

"Continue."

One minute.

Heavy breathing came through Han Zheng's communications channel, but he did not report any abnormalities.

Sheng Lan's gaze moved back and forth between the vital signs monitor and Lin Yuan. Her right thumb was already resting on the protective cover over the cutoff switch.

One minute and thirty seconds.

A sharp metallic shriek suddenly came from the frame's left knee joint. The actuator temperature reading jumped a level, entering the yellow warning zone.

Han Zheng's heart rate shot up to one hundred and thirty-five.

"Director." Sheng Lan's voice was steady. "The pilot's heart rate is continuing to rise, and the joint temperature has entered the warning range."

"There's still a minute and a half." Lin Yuan's gaze did not leave the screen. "Han Zheng, how are you?"

Han Zheng's voice came through the channel, carrying an obvious tremor of strain.

"I can hold on."

One minute and forty-five seconds.

Han Zheng's heart rate reached one hundred and fifty-two, and his blood oxygen saturation began to drop.

Sheng Lan flipped open the protective cover with her thumb.

"Director, blood oxygen is dropping and his heart rate has exceeded the safety threshold. Continuing the test may cause myocardial damage."

"The data will not be complete for another minute and fifteen seconds."

"Director."

Two minutes.

Han Zheng's breathing had turned into short, ragged gasps, and irregular fluctuations appeared on the vital signs graph.

Sheng Lan said nothing more.

She pressed the cutoff switch.

The hum in the testing ground stopped abruptly.

The frame's power unit entered emergency shutdown. Its joints locked, and the cockpit's emergency lights came on.

Every technician in the control room turned to look at Sheng Lan.

Lin Yuan's fingers stopped on the armrest.

The silence lasted four seconds.

Sheng Lan removed her communications headset and turned to face Lin Yuan.

"Director, I aborted the test. The pilot's vital signs exceeded safety standards. Continuing could have caused irreversible damage."

She took a folded sheet of paper from her uniform pocket and placed it on the console.

"This is my request for disciplinary action. I exceeded my authority and aborted a direct order from my superior. Regulations require a demerit."

Lin Yuan looked at the sheet of paper.

No one in the control room dared make a sound.

"Also." Sheng Lan's voice did not waver as she took another document from her pocket. "These are all of Han Zheng's medical examination data from the forty-eight hours before he entered the cockpit, as well as my calculated maximum endurance time for a pilot under maximum power based on current medical literature."

She spread the document open.

"According to the calculations, a normal human's safe endurance limit under this vibration frequency and G-force environment is between one minute fifty seconds and two minutes ten seconds. Han Zheng was already nearing the limit."

Lin Yuan picked up the medical assessment and flipped through two pages.

He did not look at the disciplinary request.

"Control Systems Group," he said.

A young engineer in the corner stood up.

"Here."

"Starting today, write a mandatory abort protocol into every unit test procedure. When a pilot's vital signs exceed the preset threshold, the system will automatically cut power output. No manual intervention will be needed."

The engineer froze for a moment.

"Director, how should we set the threshold parameters?"

Lin Yuan pushed the medical assessment to the edge of the table.

"Use this data as reference, then leave an additional fifteen percent safety margin. Call it the Driver Vital Threshold Auto-Lock."

"Understood."

Lin Yuan stood, picked up Sheng Lan's disciplinary request, and glanced at it.

Then he folded the paper and placed it back in Sheng Lan's hand.

"You don't need this."

Sheng Lan's fingers closed around it, and the paper bent slightly in her palm.

"Director."

"Experimental data can be rerun." Lin Yuan walked toward the control room exit. "Pilots cannot."

He paused at the door.

"Notify the medical team to retrieve Han Zheng from the cockpit."

Twenty minutes later, Han Zheng was carried out of the cockpit and taken to the medical station.

His face was gray, his lips cracked, but he remained conscious.

Sheng Lan stood outside the medical station, watching through the observation window as medics examined Han Zheng inside.

Three hours later, Han Zheng's vital signs returned to normal.

He sat up in bed, glanced at the monitoring band around his wrist, then looked up and saw Sheng Lan standing in the doorway.

"Director Sheng, were you the one who cut it?"

"Yes."

Han Zheng rolled his neck, and his joints gave a faint crack.

"How did the director react?"

"He had an automatic protection lock written into the system. There won't be another situation where manual intervention fails to catch up."

Han Zheng lowered his head and looked at his hands. His fingers still trembled faintly, a lingering reaction from the extreme load.

"Director Sheng."

"Yes?"

He raised his head, his gaze calm.

"If this unit can succeed, I'll fly the next test too."