The Desert Tiger's Fangs

"Director, Sheng Lan. Jiachen wrote something again."

Forty hours after those words were spoken, Jiachen was no longer marking ambush points.

May 13, C.E. 71. Deep in the Libyan Desert of North Africa, nine kilometers south of the East Asia Test Detachment's temporary encampment.

Han Zheng crouched Black Iron Unit One in the shadow of a weathered rocky hill, switching the panoramic screen to passive optical mode at maximum magnification.

On the screen, a dry riverbed seven kilometers away was kicking up vast clouds of dust.

Quadrupedal silhouettes emerged from the sandy haze. The angles of their bent joints closely resembled those of canines, and every footfall came with visible suspension buffering.

Baku.

The primary ground MS of ZAFT's Desert Tiger, Andrew Waltfeld.

Tian Mu's voice came through from Unit Two's channel, unable to hide his astonishment.

"Brother Han, that thing's faster than I imagined."

"How fast?"

"Jiachen measured it. One hundred seventy kilometers per hour. On sand."

Han Zheng locked the optical tracker onto the leading Baku, magnifying the rhythm of its four mechanical legs until every movement was clearly visible.

"Not just fast. Look at how it crosses the dunes. Its forelegs probe first, then brace; its hind legs contract and kick out in sync. Its center of gravity stays pressed over the middle of its body the whole time."

Liu An added in a muffled voice from Unit Three.

"Just like a real desert wolf."

Sheng Lan's voice cut in from the communications vehicle.

"Han Zheng, don't expose yourselves. All three units are to maintain thermal-radiation masking. Keep power at minimum output. Jiachen, archive all kinematic data."

"Received."

Han Zheng released the controls and let Unit One remain completely motionless on the shaded side of the hill.

The image on the screen continued to unfold.

There was more than one Baku in the formation. There were six.

They were arranged in pairs, roughly one hundred fifty meters apart, spread in a column along the dry riverbed.

They were heading south-southeast, at an angle of no more than twenty degrees from the Archangel's projected route.

Ye Qingluan's voice came from the rear of the communications vehicle. The static on the channel indicated that she was intercepting ZAFT transmissions with a handheld antenna.

"Han Zheng, there are encrypted communications on the ZAFT frequencies. Waltfeld's command callsign appeared twice."

"He's on site?"

"Most likely. Waltfeld has a habit of personally leading reconnaissance. ZAFT Africa Front operation reports have recorded at least four instances."

Sheng Lan opened the tactical terminal in the communications vehicle. On the screen, the Archangel's projected position lay fourteen kilometers to the southeast, moving along the edge of the riverbed at thirty kilometers per hour.

The Baku formation's heading and the Archangel's route were slowly converging.

"Director, Waltfeld is closing the trap."

Eight thousand kilometers away, Lin Yuan's voice came through the encrypted channel. Faint machinery could be heard in the background; he was still in the analysis room at the 811 Institute.

"What is the Baku's weapons loadout?"

"Beam rifles paired with missile launchers, with claw shredders for close combat. Intelligence from Tariq indicates that Waltfeld usually uses the first two pairs of Bakus to harass and herd the target into a preset fire zone, while the third pair cuts off its retreat."

"What do you think of the Baku's close-combat capabilities?"

Sheng Lan pulled up the kinematic data recorded by Han Zheng and glanced over the key parameters.

"Director, its quadrupedal configuration produces more than sixty percent less ground pressure on sand than a bipedal MS. Combined with its low-center-of-gravity design, its lateral acceleration far exceeds that of standard humanoid MS units. If Black Iron gets into close combat with a Baku in the desert, overheated joints and unstable footing on sand will put it at a severe disadvantage."

The sound of Lin Yuan tapping the desk with a finger carried through the channel.

"It's not a disadvantage. It's a matter of design suitability."

"You mean...?"

"Waltfeld gave an MS four legs not because he likes wolves, but because he understands that the rules of a desert battlefield are different from those in space. Terrain determines form, and form determines tactics. That is the correct way of thinking."

Han Zheng heard that from inside the cockpit and ran his fingers over the control stick.

"Director, then how should Black Iron fight a Baku in the desert?"

"Don't chase it. Make it come to you."

Lin Yuan's speaking pace did not change.

"The Baku's strengths are speed and terrain suitability. Its weakness is thin armor. Its beam rifles and missiles have high fire density but limited penetration. Against Ceramic Steel frontal plating, their effective damage range will be sharply reduced."

"You mean let it charge in, tank its firepower, then use the Bombard Gun at close range?"

"How many seconds can your Ceramic Steel withstand its beam rifle?"

Han Zheng recalled the test data Xu Yanqiu had given him.

"Under continuous frontal exposure, surface cracking begins after four seconds. Penetration occurs after seven. A single hit cannot penetrate it."

"If a Baku charges at one hundred seventy kilometers per hour, how long does it take from entering effective range to making close contact?"

A line of calculation results automatically appeared on Jiachen's tactical display.

Han Zheng read it aloud.

"Five point three seconds."

"Just over five seconds. Does Jiachen have simulation data for the Baku's hit rate while firing on the move?"

"Yes. Against a stationary target, the hit rate while firing at high speed is approximately forty-seven percent."

"With a forty-seven percent hit rate, each shot exposing the target for no more than half a second, it can only land two or three effective hits in five seconds. A single hit cannot penetrate the Ceramic Steel frontal plate."

Lin Yuan's voice paused for a beat.

"Wait until it enters within three hundred meters. Fire the Bombard Gun directly and cover its turning arc. The Baku's armor cannot withstand the internal blast pressure of even one shell."

Han Zheng's knuckles tightened around the control stick.

"Director, this tactic has one prerequisite."

"Go on."

"Black Iron has to stay on its feet."

The channel fell silent for two seconds.

"Has Xu Yanqiu provided a schedule for the joint cooling improvement plan?"

Sheng Lan turned a page in her records.

"Professor Xu said he could produce an improved cooling module within two weeks after returning home. At present, we can only make do with the temporary solution of removing the auxiliary panels."

"Then make do. Han Zheng, now is not the time to fight. Your mission is to record data. Waltfeld is here to fight the Archangel, not you."

Han Zheng turned the optical lens back toward the dry riverbed.

The six Bakus had already passed beyond the right edge of his field of view, continuing to press southeast.

The dust behind them stretched into six gray-yellow trails, like claw marks carved into the desert.

Jiachen's tactical display silently recorded every frame of movement data.

"Deputy Officer Sheng." Han Zheng lowered his voice.

"Speak."

"The Archangel... can it hold out?"

Sheng Lan's pen paused on her memo for an instant.

"That is not your concern."

Han Zheng did not ask again.

Twenty minutes later, muffled booms sounded from the southeast of the dry riverbed.

The distance was too great. On the panoramic screen, he could only see an orange flash rising near the horizon, followed by a second, then a third.

Jiachen automatically switched to acoustic analysis mode and issued its assessment after a six-second delay.

Crossfire from beam weapons, accompanied by explosions from physical munitions.

The battle had begun.

An interception report from Ye Qingluan appeared on Sheng Lan's terminal.

The Archangel's starboard batteries were firing at full capacity. Strike Gundam had already launched to engage.

Tian Mu's voice from Unit Two tightened slightly.

"Brother Han, the Baku formation is heading toward the Archangel. The Archangel has been forced back. If it turns to avoid Waltfeld's encirclement..."

He did not finish.

Jiachen finished for him.

On the tactical display, the Archangel's projected turning path was marked by a red dashed line.

The extension of that dashed line pointed directly at the East Asia Test Detachment's encampment.

Sheng Lan closed the terminal and pressed the communications key.

"Director, the Archangel has been forced to change course. If it continues along its current route, it will pass within three kilometers of our temporary encampment in six hours."

Lin Yuan's reply contained only two words.

"Do not withdraw."

Sheng Lan's pen tip hovered above her memo.

"Director..."

"Do not withdraw. Have Han Zheng position all three Black Iron units. Jiachen, begin full-area passive monitoring and record all combat data from Strike Gundam and the Baku formation."

Sheng Lan slipped her pen back into her pocket.

"Director, what if Waltfeld's reconnaissance units discover us?"

The other end of the channel was silent for three seconds.

"Then let him discover us."