The moving impact of the Precursor scarab was like an iron battering ram striking a castle wall.
Tie Shan didn’t try to dodge. The giant planted his boots into the bronze grating, lowered his shoulder. Then it drove the flat striking face of his twelve-pound pry-bar directly into the iron-puppet’s spinning left grinding disc.
CLANG-CRUNCH.
The crash sent a bone-shaking blast wave through the platform that blew the steam away in a violent circle. The hardened star-iron of Tie Shan’s pry-bar caught the spinning disc, the teeth screeching as they ground against the cold-drawn metal. Tie Shan’s boots slid backward four inches across the bronze floor. That left bright silver friction grooves, but his Peak Iron-Bone frame held unmoving.
“Heavy!” Tie Shan roared, his neck cords bulging like thick roots as he locked the machine’s limb in place through sheer clockwork leverage.
The scarab’s amber sight lenses flashed rapidly, cycling through an error subroutine:
A backup nozzle beneath the scarab’s bronze cowl hissed, preparing to unleash a torrent of high-pressure Precursor liquid fire directly into Tie Shan’s face.
“Hold him three seconds, Tie Shan!” Lin Tao shouted.
