am at my post,” Zhu said.
“Are you cold?”
“No, First Rank,” Zhu said.
“Did you just lie to me?”
“Well…” Zhu said, “Yes, I’m a little cold.”
“So a Hero of Los Angeles is mortal after all.”
Zhu had a won a Hero of China medal for his actions in Los Angeles. “First Rank, I wish you would not mock my efforts in California.”
“Do you remember that my mother went to an astrologer before I left and she discovered that I wouldn’t die in North America?”
“I remember,” Zhu said.
“I wonder if the astrologer was true or if she was a charlatan like people say they are. If she was false, it means I might die here. This country is so big, and there are so many Americans who take up their guns to fight us—do you think we can win this war?”
“China cannot lose,” Zhu said.
“Why is that?” Tian asked.
“We fight better,” Zhu said in surprise. “We have the greatest soldiers in history. The Americans have retreated constantly before us. It is impossible for us to lose.”
“That’s a nice speech, Soldier Rank. Now tell me what you really think.”
“I’m…” Zhu glanced to his left. First Rank Tian looked at him. The big commando raised an arm and waved.
Zhu let go of a handlebar and waved back.
“I have a report of a band of partisans, First Rank Tian,” the Z4A’s pilot said. “They’ve blown up three trucks nine kilometers from our position. Are your commandos ready for a dive?”
“Get set, Eagle flyers,” Tian radioed the others with wide band. “We’re going down.”
Zhu gripped the handlebars with both hands. He lowered his head and heard the ripping wind pass his ears. Sometimes when the afterburners roared hottest, wind slipped over the windshield. He’d seen a flyer torn out of his seat before.
The Z4A modified battle-taxi tipped earthward. A second later, the helo shot forward. Afterburners roared and orange flame flickered.
Zhu’s fingers slipped. He tightened his hold and crouched lower still. He shifted his feet as he leaned as low as he could, managing to get his boots in front of the foot bars. The tri-jet afterburners didn’t let up. As they dove, it was a struggle to remain on his cycle-seat.
“Ease up on your dive,” Tian radioed the pilot.
“Orders,” the pilot said. “I’m to dive at maximum speed.”
“And if your orders kill us by tumbling commandos, whose head do you think will roll?” Tian asked.
The battle-taxi eased up in its dive, giving Zhu time to re-grip the bars and lean into a better position.
“If we’re late…” the pilot said.
“Don’t threaten me,” Tian said, and there was menace in his voice.
The pilot didn’t say anything more, nor did they increase speed again. Zhu could understand the pilot’s fear. He’d fought Tian before and lost miserably. But losing a fight didn’t mean you backed down. He would rather take the blows of a beating than show cowardice.
The First Rank fed them data as he received it. The ground rushed nearer and I-25 had grown considerably. Zhu could see a blaze on the road. The partisans must have struck an oil hauler.
“Was the partisan strike by mine or machine gun?” Zhu asked.
“Looks like both,” Tian told him.
“There!” another Soldier Rank cried. “Look at three-dash-five. They’re riding motorcycles, two people per vehicle.”
Zhu swiveled his helmet while turning on the HUD coordinates. He spied the partisans with his night vision. The motorcycles fled for a forest three kilometers away. If the Americans reached those trees, it would be hard to find and kill them.
The Z4A swept out of the night sky like a proverbial bat out of hell. The afterburners and dive gave the helo speed.
“They’re splitting up!” the Soldier Rank shouted.
“We can hear you just fine,” Tian said. “There’s no need to shout.”
“Which motorcycle do you want me to follow?” the pilot asked.
Tian was quiet for a moment. Then he began to instruct the pilot and the team. “Zhu, you and Qiang will take the left motorcycle.”
The helo lurched right. Tian was giving him the hardest target. Despite that, the others would laugh at him if his motorcycle got away.
“Get ready,” Tian said.
The battle-taxi zoomed at the chosen motorcycle, gaining on it.
“Launch,” Tian said.
Zhu released the handlebars and thrust up with his feet. It was a tricky maneuver, and he twisted his boots. They could easily tangle with the handlebars. He cleared the helo and flew forward through momentum. He also dropped. Only now did he engage the jetpack. If a flyer shot up too soon, he could cause a bad