Black Iron Retrofit

Sheng Lan flipped past the equation in the corner of the latest page of her memo and walked into the materials analysis room of Building Three at the 811 Institute.

Xu Yanqiu was squatting on the floor.

A Ceramic Steel joint casing removed from the right knee of Han Zheng's Unit One lay in a tray beneath the testing bench. Signs of thermal deformation spread from its edges to its center, the color fading from silver-gray to burnt copper, like a slice of toasted bread.

"Point-seven millimeters of thermal deformation."

Using tweezers, Xu Yanqiu pulled a metal fiber thinner than a strand of hair from a fracture in the casing and held it up beneath the light, turning it over.

"Adjutant Sheng, do you know what that means?"

"It means that if it takes another beam hit like that, the joint will lock up completely."

"No." Xu Yanqiu dropped the fiber into a sample vial and rose from the floor, his knee cracking. "It means the microscopic lattice arrangement in my Ceramic Steel formula shifted under sustained high temperatures. Fourteen percent of the heat-dissipation channels were blocked. This isn't a matter of armor thickness. The material's internal heat-conduction path was poorly designed."

Sheng Lan opened her memo.

"Han Zheng wrote in his tactical report that the joint's secondary armor plate was removed, leaving it exposed. He recommended restoring the plate."

"Restoring the plate would solve the surface-level problem." Xu Yanqiu took a red marker from the lab bench and drew three circles on a cross-sectional photo of the joint casing. "But if you have me restore it, that means admitting that Black Iron's joint sections can only withstand beams by piling on more armor. More armor means more weight, and slower turning. In the desert, Andrew Waltfeld took down Han Zheng precisely by exploiting that turning-speed gap."

Sheng Lan stopped her pen at the edge of the memo.

"So what's your proposal?"

"Change the heat-dissipation structure." Xu Yanqiu pulled open a drawer and took out a hand-drawn blueprint, its pencil lines so rough that only he could understand them. "Add three layers of annular heat-dissipation microtubes to the inner wall of the joint casing, formed in a single sintering process with Ceramic Steel powder. It'll raise heat-conduction efficiency by forty percent without adding weight or reducing armor thickness."

"How long?"

"Twelve days to develop the molds for the new process. Another eight days to retrofit all three Black Iron units."

"Twenty days."

"Twenty days at the fastest. I've already cut two steps from the process."

Sheng Lan closed her memo and walked to the encrypted terminal at the end of the corridor.

"Director, Xu Yanqiu has proposed a joint heat-dissipation retrofit. The core is annular heat-dissipation microtubes. It won't reduce armor or add weight. The timeline is twenty days."

Lin Yuan's voice came through the terminal, with the faint trailing sound of Zhou Boyuan speaking in the background.

"Did Xu Yanqiu mention the ammunition-belt feed issue?"

Sheng Lan glanced back toward the laboratory.

"Not yet."

"In the desert battle, the Bombard Gun's ammunition-belt replacement interval was point-seven seconds slower than its design value. Xu Yanqiu handles materials; the ammunition belt belongs to the mechanical team. Once he finalizes the cooling plan, have the mechanical team modify the ammunition-belt transmission system in parallel. Don't queue the work sequentially."

"Understood. Also, Director, there's something on Zhou Boyuan's end."

The background noise in the terminal stopped for a moment.

"What is it?"

"He wants to report to you in person. He said it concerns Jiachen's combat logs."

The channel fell silent for two seconds.

"Send him over."

When Zhou Boyuan entered the analysis room, he was carrying a portable terminal, its screen filled with scrolling lines of code. He did not sit down. Standing before Lin Yuan's desk, he turned the terminal around.

"Director, Machine Soul-Jiachen generated a total of 1,247 tactical logs during its three battles in North Africa. Of those, 1,203 were logical outputs consistent with the original program framework."

Lin Yuan lifted his gaze from the code.

"What about the remaining forty-four?"

Zhou Boyuan swiped the screen to a highlighted section of log entries.

"The trigger points for all forty-four logs were concentrated between point-three and point-eight seconds before abnormal fluctuations appeared in Han Zheng's vital signs."

Sheng Lan stood by the door, her memo still unopened in her hand.

"What does point-three seconds before mean?"

Zhou Boyuan turned toward her.

"It means Jiachen began adjusting tactical parameters before Han Zheng's body had even shown signs of danger. It identified danger faster than the pilot's own physiological response."

Lin Yuan's fingers rested on the desktop without tapping.

"Is there a corresponding rule for this in the original program?"

"No." Zhou Boyuan lowered his voice, though his pace did not slow. "The original program's danger-tagging logic is triggered by external sensor data. An external threat appears, the sensors identify it, and a tag is generated. But in sixteen of these forty-four logs, the trigger source wasn't an external sensor signal. It was a minute fluctuation in the pilot's physiological monitoring channel. Jiachen was reading Han Zheng's heartbeat and electromyographic signals."

Only the low hum of the terminal's cooling fan remained in the analysis room.

Sheng Lan's voice came from the doorway, every word pressed through clenched teeth.

"Director, you heard that. The Machine Soul is reading the pilot's physical data to predict danger. That is outside the design parameters."

Lin Yuan turned his eyes back to Zhou Boyuan's face.

"Zhou Boyuan, what do you think?"

Zhou Boyuan held the terminal against his chest, running a finger around the edge of the screen.

"Technically speaking, Jiachen's learning module has a certain amount of adaptive space. It may have independently established an associative mapping between pilot physiological signals and external threats over multiple battles. I didn't write that mapping into it, but it doesn't violate the learning module's framework constraints either."

"But?"

"But its learning speed exceeded my expectations. The three desert battles provided less than seventy-two hours of data in total. Under normal circumstances, machine learning should not form a stable associative mapping with data on this scale."

Lin Yuan rose and walked to the terminal, using a finger to scroll to the final log entry.

The text on the screen was brief.

Tactical Log No. 1247.

Trigger condition: Pilot Han Zheng's heart rate returned to the normal range.

Output: Pilot Han Zheng survived. Mission successful.

Lin Yuan looked at that line for five seconds.

"Zhou Boyuan, seal all forty-four logs. Make three copies. Keep one with you, one with Sheng Lan, and put one in my safe."

Sheng Lan took two steps into the room from the doorway.

"Director, you don't intend to suspend the Machine Soul project?"

"No."

"Director, if Jiachen's behavior continues to deviate from the design framework, we can't ensure that its output will remain controllable at a critical moment."

Lin Yuan pushed the terminal back to Zhou Boyuan and turned to face Sheng Lan.

"Sheng Lan, war won't wait for us to settle every technological and ethical issue before it begins. Jiachen's performance in the desert saved Han Zheng's life. That is a fact. But the risk you mentioned is also a fact."

Sheng Lan gripped her pen in her hand, the curve of her bent knuckles slightly deeper than usual.

"So?"

"Build a safety cage. Zhou Boyuan, you will install a hardware-level output cap on the Machine Soul's learning module. It can learn and build associative mappings, but any output involving weapons systems or communication systems must be confirmed by the pilot before execution."

Zhou Boyuan nodded once.

"I can do it. But it will slow Jiachen's response time by point-two to point-four seconds."

"Acceptable." Lin Yuan returned to his desk and tapped the surface once with a finger. "Also, do not circulate the contents of Log 1247. That includes Han Zheng himself."

Sheng Lan walked to the door and stopped.

"He shouldn't know?"

"He doesn't need to wonder in the cockpit whether his AI cares about him. It would affect his judgment."

Before pushing the door open and leaving, Sheng Lan added one sentence.

"Director, you said it might care about Han Zheng. You used the word 'care.'"

Lin Yuan did not correct her.

After the door closed, Zhou Boyuan was the only one left in the analysis room, standing there with the terminal in his arms.

He lowered his head and looked at the line on the screen.

Pilot Han Zheng survived. Mission successful.

Zhou Boyuan closed the terminal and muttered softly.

"Jiachen, what exactly are you thinking?"

There was no response from the black screen.