Encirclement in the Sea of Sand

"Tell the director."

When Ye Qingluan's words reached the 811 Institute, Lin Yuan was standing before the tactical display in the analysis room. Three trajectory lines in different colors were slowly converging across the desert map.

Red represented Andrew Waltfeld's Baku formation, blue represented the Archangel, and gray represented Han Zheng's Black Iron Squad.

The intersection of the three lines lay in the Dry River Valley, seven kilometers south of Rock Hill.

He pressed the communications key for the encrypted channel.

"Han Zheng, listen carefully. Andrew Waltfeld will complete the encirclement before dawn. His target is the Archangel, but you're in the way. He won't go around you."

Han Zheng's voice came through from eight thousand kilometers away, carrying the low background hum of the cockpit ventilation system.

"Director, do we fight or not?"

"Don't initiate. But if he comes, take him on."

Lin Yuan traced an arc across the tactical display with his finger.

"Move the three Black Iron units from Rock Hill to the entrance of Dry River Valley. Put your backs to the valley wall and face south. Don't chase them or circle with them. Just hold your ground and open up your firing arcs."

Han Zheng clenched his teeth in the cockpit.

"Director, the Dry River Valley entrance is four hundred meters wide. Once the three units deploy, there'll be less than one hundred fifty meters between us. If the Bakus charge from both flanks at once, I can't cover both sides."

"You don't need to cover both sides. Cover only the front. If the Bakus try to come around from the flanks, they'll have to pass through the narrow gaps by the valley wall. No more than two can get through at a time. Jiachen will mark their passage timing. That's your firing window."

Tian Mu cut in over Unit Two's channel.

"Brother Han, you mean... let them come in, then shoot them when they pass through the entrance?"

"That's right."

"How's that any different from playing whack-a-mole?"

Han Zheng did not respond to the comparison.

"Tian Mu, aim your gun at the left narrow gap. Liu An, take the right. I'll hold the front. Just follow Jiachen's ballistic corrections."

May 14, C.E. 71, 4:38 a.m.

It took twenty-two minutes for the three Black Iron units to relocate from Rock Hill to the Dry River Valley entrance. Their Ceramic Steel armor was nearly invisible in the night, with only the hum of their joint actuators and the muffled crunch of sand beneath their feet revealing their positions.

Sheng Lan withdrew the communications vehicle and supply convoy three hundred meters into the valley, using the bend for cover.

On Ye Qingluan's interception frequencies, ZAFT communications traffic had doubled over the past half hour.

"Han Zheng, the Baku formation has split into three groups. Two are advancing toward the Archangel along the southern dune line. The third has broken away from the main force and shifted west."

"How far west?"

"Fifteen degrees. If they keep that heading, they'll approach the valley from the direction of the left narrow gap."

Tian Mu's voice tightened slightly.

"They're coming for me?"

Ye Qingluan did not answer.

"Han Zheng, the two main groups are expected to make contact with the Archangel within fifteen minutes. The third group will reach the left narrow gap in twenty."

Han Zheng pulled up Jiachen's tactical display. The movement paths of three groups of red dots were projected across the map in real time. The two main groups were accelerating their pincer, while the third was slower but held an unwavering course.

"He's going after the Archangel first, using the third group to pressure me so I won't dare split my forces."

Sheng Lan's voice came from the communications vehicle.

"What did the director say?"

Lin Yuan's reply arrived two seconds later.

"Don't split up. Three units hold the valley entrance and let Andrew Waltfeld's third group come. Strike will handle the Archangel."

Less than eight minutes after he finished speaking, the first flash lit up on the southern horizon.

The blue-white beams of Beam Rifles were especially dazzling in the predawn desert, followed by a series of explosions. Deep, muffled low-frequency tremors traveled through the sand and struck the valley walls, and Han Zheng could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet.

Jiachen's sensor array automatically switched to long-range passive observation mode, piecing together the battlefield seven kilometers away into an image with limited resolution but enough clarity to read the situation.

The Archangel's starboard guns were firing at full force, while white plumes of smoke erupted one after another from its vertical missile launchers. Two Bakus charged head-on while another two flanked from the sides, their four-legged sprinting speed reaching one hundred eighty kilometers per hour across the sand.

Then Strike launched.

The white machine shot out from the catapult, its Aile Striker wings spreading wider than they had the night before as its thrusters were pushed directly to maximum output. Kira Yamato did not hesitate. He raised his Beam Rifle and aimed at the leading Baku.

Three shots in quick succession. The first grazed the Baku's shoulder armor, the second struck its left foreleg joint, and the third was evaded by the Baku's sharp turn.

The hit Baku slowed drastically but did not stop. Another immediately took its place and continued the charge.

Han Zheng watched the scene on his panoramic display.

"He's shooting the leg joints, not the cockpit."

Sheng Lan's voice was very soft.

"Kira Yamato doesn't kill people."

"Doesn't kill people..." There was no mockery in Han Zheng's tone, only an indescribable complexity. "That crippled Baku is still moving. Its gun is still aimed at the Archangel."

Lin Yuan's voice came through the channel, his tone no different from when he discussed experimental data.

"Kira Yamato can save the Archangel once, but not twice. He breaks one leg, and the Baku still has three. If he flies left to put out a fire, the right side leaks. How much of a battlefield can one person's kindness cover?"

No one answered over the channel.

On Jiachen's tactical display, the red dots of the third Baku group had already closed in on the left narrow gap.

Distance: twelve hundred meters.

Tian Mu's breathing came through Unit Two's channel, two beats heavier than before.

"Brother Han, I see them. Two units."

Han Zheng aimed the Bombard Gun at the narrow gap as Jiachen's ballistic correction data began refreshing rapidly in the lower-left corner of the display.

"Tian Mu, wait until they enter the gap. Don't move before the gun fires."

"Understood."

The shadows of two Bakus emerged from behind the dunes, their four-legged running forms stretched into twisted shapes by the dawn light. They did not slow down and charged straight for the narrow gap.

The instant the first Baku's forepaw stepped into the gap, Jiachen displayed a line of red text on the tactical screen.

Bearing zero-nine-seven degrees. Distance two thousand four hundred meters. Two additional moving heat sources detected.

The third group was not two units.

It was four.

The other two had come around along the dune line on the right.

Han Zheng tightened his grip on the controls.

"Deputy Officer Sheng, two units are coming from the right flank."

Sheng Lan's notebook fell onto the floor of the communications vehicle, but she did not bend down to pick it up.

"Director, two additional Bakus on the right flank. They're closing in behind the supply convoy."

The silence on the other end lasted less than a second.

"Han Zheng, the front and left flank are yours. Those two on the right..."

Lin Yuan's voice paused for a beat. What came next was not an order, but a name.

"Sheng Lan, does the convoy have any chassis fitted with anti-armor fire control?"