"Then let him find us."
Four hours after Lin Yuan said that, Andrew Waltfeld's Reconnaissance Baku came knocking.
May 13, C.E. 71, 5:40 p.m.
The desert light had begun to turn copper-red. The ground temperature had dropped from fifty-three degrees to forty-six, but the heat stored in the rocks and gravel still rose endlessly into the air.
Han Zheng was the first to spot the signal on Jiachen's passive sensors.
Bearing one hundred sixty-two degrees, distance two thousand eight hundred meters.
A single Baku had broken away from the main formation, curved around from the south, and was approaching Rock Hill.
"Deputy Officer Sheng, we have a visitor. A single Baku, reconnaissance configuration. No missile racks, only a Beam Rifle and a head-mounted sensor package."
Sheng Lan's voice came from the communications vehicle, her pace a beat faster than usual.
"Confirmed as a reconnaissance unit?"
"Confirmed. Its movement pattern differs from a combat formation. It stops every three hundred meters, and its sensor head performs a full three-hundred-sixty-degree scan. Standard search advance."
Ye Qingluan's voice followed from inside the communications vehicle.
"I intercepted a fragment of ZAFT communications. The Reconnaissance Baku reported an anomalous heat source to the rear. Its bearing matches our encampment."
Han Zheng's hand was already resting on the control stick.
"Deputy Officer Sheng, it's still approaching. Two thousand three hundred meters."
Sheng Lan switched her terminal to an encrypted channel.
"Director, the Reconnaissance Baku has entered within two thousand three hundred meters. If it continues approaching, it will confirm our position."
Lin Yuan's voice came from eight thousand kilometers away, without even a moment's hesitation.
"Ye Qingluan, call it on the neutral merchant convoy frequency. Tell it this is a civilian escort team registered with the East Asian Republic and order it to leave."
Ye Qingluan adjusted the frequency and pressed the transmission key.
A bilingual Arabic and English broadcast sounded from the vehicle's roof speakers and simultaneously poured into ZAFT's general contact frequency.
The other side did not respond.
The Baku continued forward. One thousand eight hundred meters.
Tian Mu gritted his teeth inside Unit Two.
"It's ignoring us."
Ye Qingluan broadcast for a second time, more slowly and with more formal wording.
The Baku opposite them paused. Its sensor head turned toward Rock Hill and remained there for five seconds.
Then it continued forward.
One thousand four hundred meters.
On Han Zheng's panoramic screen, the Baku's four-legged silhouette was already clearly visible. Its dark green paint was coated in dust and sand, while the optical sensors on its head reflected a cold gleam in the dying sunlight.
"Deputy Officer Sheng, one thousand two hundred meters. If we don't deal with it now, it'll enter visual identification range."
Sheng Lan gripped the microphone, her knuckles white.
"Director?"
Lin Yuan's reply was a single word.
"Stop it."
Han Zheng rose from Rock Hill's shadow.
Black Iron Unit One's plasma-assisted power surged from minimum output to cruising power. Its joint actuators hummed as they extended, and the nineteen-meter dark gray body rose from behind the dune, blocking the Baku's path head-on.
The Baku on the other side stopped.
The joints in its four legs locked simultaneously. Its body lowered, and the Beam Rifle sprang from its back mount into a forward firing position.
Han Zheng did not raise his Bombard Gun. The muzzle pointed at the ground, while his Ceramic Steel chest armor faced the enemy directly.
A standard ZAFT inquiry signal appeared on the communications channel, its automatic translation layered into his earpiece.
"Unknown armed unit, state your identity and affiliation number."
Ye Qingluan replied again through the neutral channel.
"Civilian escort formation of the East Asian Republic, conducting an evacuation mission. Please have your unit withdraw beyond contact distance."
The other side fell silent for seven seconds.
The Baku's sensor head scanned over Han Zheng's machine from head to toe, lingering longest on the external Ceramic Steel armor plates.
Jiachen intercepted a new communication signal.
"Rear command, this unit does not exist in the known database. Bipedal configuration, heavy armor, no external beam weapon hardpoints detected. Armament type unknown. Requesting instructions."
The response came quickly. Its voiceprint matched the Andrew Waltfeld command traffic intercepted earlier by eighty-six percent.
"Distance?"
"One thousand one hundred meters."
"Is its weapon aimed at you?"
"No. The muzzle is pointed at the ground."
"Interesting. Don't move. I'm coming."
Ye Qingluan translated the intercepted exchange for Sheng Lan in real time. Sheng Lan's pen stopped over her notebook.
"Andrew Waltfeld is coming personally."
Han Zheng heard it.
"Deputy Officer Sheng, I do nothing for now?"
"Do nothing. Keep the muzzle pointed down. If they cross the eight-hundred-meter warning line, fire one shot into the sand thirty meters in front of him. Only one shot."
"Understood."
The wait lasted six minutes.
Fresh sand and dust rose from the southern horizon, and a machine with different paint from the Reconnaissance Baku entered view.
Dark red stripes. A commander's custom paint scheme.
Two standard Bakus followed behind it.
The three machines stopped beside the Reconnaissance Baku, forming a loose semicircle.
Han Zheng now faced four Bakus.
On Jiachen's tactical display, the ballistic coverage zones overlapped with the enemy's firing arcs, forming a dense mesh of red and yellow lines.
The Command Baku with dark red stripes stepped forward.
Nine hundred meters.
Eight hundred fifty meters.
Eight hundred meters.
"Han Zheng." Sheng Lan's voice.
Han Zheng raised the Bombard Gun.
He aimed the muzzle at the sand thirty meters ahead of the Command Baku and pulled the trigger.
The Bombard Round left the barrel.
The rocket-assisted exhaust flame was especially glaring in the twilight desert. Zero point four seconds into its flight, the round struck the target area.
The implosion chamber detonated.
A twelve-meter-wide crater exploded open before the Command Baku. A column of sand shot twenty meters into the air, while shattered rocks and scorching grains of sand hammered against the Baku's armor like torrential rain.
The shockwave rolled forward with a blast of heat, pushing the Command Baku's four legs two meters backward across the sand.
The dust settled.
The Command Baku stood at the crater's edge, its four-legged stance firmly anchored. It did not return fire.
Han Zheng lowered his muzzle again.
No sound came from the communications channel.
Fifteen seconds later, an unencrypted broadcast signal came from the Command Baku.
The voice carried a hoarse laugh, its English accent mixed with the soft tongue of the Mediterranean Sea coast.
"Friends from East Asia, your live ammunition has quite a punch. But if you really wanted to hit me, you wouldn't have aimed at the ground."
Han Zheng did not answer.
Ye Qingluan replied over the neutral channel.
"Commander Waltfeld, the East Asian escort formation has no intention of engaging ZAFT. We advise your unit to withdraw beyond contact distance."
That hoarse voice laughed again.
"All right. Tell your commander that his iron lump is very interesting. If we meet again somewhere other than the battlefield, I'll buy him coffee."
The Command Baku took three steps back, turned around, and broke into a run on all four legs, reaching top speed within five seconds.
The three accompanying Bakus withdrew with it and soon vanished into the dust to the south.
Han Zheng slowly returned the Bombard Gun to standby position and let out a breath.
Sheng Lan's voice sounded over the channel.
"Director, Waltfeld has withdrawn. But he saw Black Iron's appearance and the power of the Bombard Round."
Lin Yuan's voice came from the other end of the channel, calm as though they were discussing the weather.
"He'll adjust his deployment."
"How?"
"He now knows there's an unknown force north of the Archangel, with decent firepower, but one that fired only a warning shot and did not pursue. He'll divert some of his attention toward us, but he won't attack immediately. Andrew Waltfeld isn't a fool. He'll probe us first."
Sheng Lan turned to a new page in her notebook.
"What about the Archangel?"
"It's being squeezed toward us by Waltfeld's encirclement. In six hours, it'll enter Han Zheng's visual range."
Outside the communications vehicle, the desert sky had gone completely dark.
Ye Qingluan shut down the interception antenna, walked to the vehicle door, and lit a cigarette. The ember flickered in the night wind.
"Deputy Officer Sheng."
"Go ahead."
"If the Archangel comes this way, we'll be between it and Waltfeld. The odds of all three sides meeting are rising."
Sheng Lan pulled the vehicle door shut.
"The director said we aren't withdrawing."
Ye Qingluan exhaled a stream of smoke.
"Then what will the people aboard the Archangel think when they see us?"
Sheng Lan did not answer.
On the distant horizon, a faint blue-white glow was slowly moving in from the southeast.
The Archangel's engine exhaust.
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