Tiger and Iron

As the Desert Tiger's custom unit crested the dune, Han Zheng's Jiachen had already read its speed.

One hundred ninety-two kilometers per hour. Thirteen percent faster than a standard Baku.

"Deputy Officer Sheng, it isn't a standard Baku. Its thrust output and joint response are both significantly higher."

Sheng Lan watched Jiachen's real-time analysis on the terminal inside the communications vehicle. Her lips did not move, but the pen in her hand dragged a streak of ink across the corner of her notes.

"Director, Andrew Waltfeld's custom unit outperforms a standard Baku. Can Han Zheng handle it?"

Lin Yuan's voice came through the channel, his pace exactly the same as when discussing the ammunition-feed valve delay.

"Tell him to use tactics, not instinct."

The custom unit with dark red stripes did not take the narrow pass. At a distance of one thousand meters, it suddenly changed direction, cutting from the front of Black Iron's position toward the right flank. The rhythm of its four-legged stride shifted three times, and each change in speed neatly evaded Jiachen's predicted firing line.

Han Zheng tracked it with his muzzle for two beats but did not pull the trigger.

"It's testing me."

Tian Mu's voice tightened over Unit Two's channel.

"Brother Han, it's gone around us. It's circling in from the right flank. Should I turn my gun?"

"Don't. Hold your narrow pass. That Baku that pulled back is still there."

After completing half an arc, the custom unit cut in from the right, closing to six hundred meters. Its Beam Rifle snapped down from the rack on its back into firing position, sending three blue-white beams in succession toward Black Iron Unit One's waist joints.

The first grazed the right edge of the ceramic steel chest armor, burning a white scorch mark into the surface without penetrating.

The second struck the external plate on its left arm. The beam moved away in less than 0.3 seconds, leaving shallow cracks across the armor's surface.

The third hit the auxiliary cooling section of the right knee joint. That auxiliary plate had been removed three days earlier, leaving the exposed joint casing to take the beam directly.

Two warning lights lit up in Han Zheng's cockpit.

The right knee joint's temperature jumped from seventy degrees to one hundred ten in half a second.

"Han Zheng, the right knee has been hit by a beam. Joint temperature has exceeded the limit." Sheng Lan's report arrived almost in sync with the warning lights.

Han Zheng did not take a step back, but his right leg had begun to creak under metallic stress. Black Iron's center of gravity swayed slightly on the sand.

After firing, the custom unit did not linger six hundred meters away. Its four legs kicked off the sand, pushing its speed past two hundred kilometers per hour as it swept behind Black Iron's position from the right flank and curved toward the left.

The entire process took less than four seconds.

Han Zheng's muzzle followed its trail for a second and a half, but could not keep up.

"It's cutting into my blind spots." Han Zheng's breathing grew heavier. "After every attack, it breaks away and uses its four-legged maneuverability to circle to the side where I turn slowest. It knows Black Iron turns slowly."

Lin Yuan's voice came through the channel.

"Did you chase it?"

"For one second."

"Don't chase it. Chasing is what it wants. Every step you take shifts your position one step. After two steps, your firing arc will no longer cover the valley entrance. Then the Baku at the narrow pass will charge in again."

Han Zheng brought his muzzle back to the front. The creaking from his right leg had not stopped.

The custom unit circled back from the left flank to the front, lowering itself into a depression behind the dune. Only its sensor head showed above the ridge, its optical lens fixed motionlessly on Black Iron.

It was watching.

Han Zheng knew what it was watching for.

"Director, it's looking for my weakness."

"It has already found it. Your right knee has no auxiliary plate protecting it, and your turning speed cannot keep up with a four-legged unit's changes of direction. Next time, it will cut in from the right and hit the same spot."

Tian Mu could no longer hold back in Unit Two.

"Brother Han, let me turn around and help you take it down."

"No. If you turn around, the narrow pass will be open."

"Then what do we do? Just take the hits?"

Han Zheng did not answer Tian Mu. He watched the custom unit's heat signature on Jiachen's tactical display. The dark red point was slowly moving behind the dune, shifting from the front toward the right.

"Director."

"Speak."

"Can I stop blocking it and let it in?"

The channel fell silent for three seconds.

"Han Zheng, what are you planning?"

"It wants to cut in from the right and hit my knee. If I deliberately leave the right side open, it will accelerate and charge in. Once it comes in, it'll be inside the valley entrance. Inside the valley entrance is the overlapping firing zone of Tian Mu, Liu An, and me."

Han Zheng's fingers did not tighten around the controls, but his voice dropped low.

"I'll use my right knee as bait. When it bites, three Bombard Guns will block its retreat."

Hearing that inside the communications vehicle, Sheng Lan snapped the tip of her pen against her notes.

"Director, Han Zheng's right knee joint is already damaged. If it takes another beam hit, the joint may fail completely."

"How many seconds can he hold?"

Sheng Lan pulled up Jiachen's structural analysis feed and slid two fingers across the data.

"The right knee casing has already suffered 0.7 millimeters of thermal deformation. Based on the beam output of Andrew Waltfeld's custom unit, another 0.3-second exposure will push the transmission gear meshing clearance beyond the safety threshold. The pilot will still be able to operate it, but response delay will increase to over 0.5 seconds."

"Han Zheng, you heard that."

"I heard."

"Are you sure?"

"Director, if it doesn't take the bait, I'll just keep getting hit. Between taking three hits and taking one hit to gamble on this, I choose the latter."

Lin Yuan's reply came after the communications delay, his voice two degrees colder than the desert night wind.

"Tian Mu, Liu An, aim your guns at the inside of the valley entrance. When Han Zheng moves aside, the custom unit will cut in from the right. Once it enters the valley entrance, it will have to slow down. Its braking distance with all four legs gripping the ground will be at least thirty meters. Those thirty meters are your window."

"Received." There was no humor left in Tian Mu's voice.

"Received." Liu An's reply was even shorter than Tian Mu's.

Han Zheng took a deep breath, then narrowed Unit One's right-side firing arc by twenty degrees. The Bombard Gun's muzzle shifted toward the left front, leaving an obvious gap on the right knee side to anyone watching from outside.

On Jiachen's tactical display, the dark red point was accelerating.

Andrew Waltfeld saw the opening.

"Deputy Officer Sheng." Han Zheng's voice squeezed through clenched teeth.

"Speak."

"Can that thirty-millimeter fire-control system on the supply truck still work?"

Sheng Lan was already running toward the truck.

"It can."

"If it turns to run after charging in, hit the thrusters on its back with the thirty-millimeter. You don't need to penetrate the armor. Just disrupt its acceleration rhythm. One second is enough."

As Sheng Lan climbed onto the side of the truck, the skin on her palm scraped away. She gripped the fire-control handle, her thumb pressing down on the firing button.

On the infrared display, the custom unit with dark red stripes burst out from behind the dune. The rhythm of its four-legged stride rose to a pace she had never seen before.

One hundred ninety-five kilometers per hour. Two hundred. Two hundred ten.

It charged straight at the opening on Han Zheng's right.

The Beam Rifle fired at four hundred meters, its blue-white beam striking Black Iron Unit One's right knee joint casing dead on.

Han Zheng clenched his teeth.

The warning lights shifted from yellow to red. Right knee temperature: one hundred forty degrees. Abnormal transmission gear meshing noise.

Unit One's right leg gave way by half a notch, and its body tilted five degrees to the right.

But Han Zheng's muzzle did not follow it.

The muzzle remained pointed ahead.

The custom unit rushed through the opening on the right. Its four-legged landing path carried it into the fan-shaped zone inside the valley entrance. Its speed began to bleed away against the sand, dropping from two hundred ten to one hundred eighty, while its front claws dug in to prepare for a turn and escape.

Three lines lit up simultaneously on Jiachen's tactical display.

Tian Mu's Bombard Gun fired from the left narrow pass, its round flying toward a predicted point thirty meters ahead of the custom unit's left front.

Liu An's Bombard Gun fired from the right, its trajectory pinning down the arc of the custom unit's rightward escape turn.

Sheng Lan's thirty-millimeter fire-control system roared six times from the truck, every tracer streaking toward the custom unit's rear thrusters.

The overlapping coverage of those three firing paths landed precisely across the thirty meters where Andrew Waltfeld had to brake and turn.