Lieutenant Katsuragi had no idea what Rei and Yukikaze were agreeing to, but they seemed to know what was going to happen, at least.
The information from the various radars was integrated for display on the electronic warfare monitor panel. This time, there was no interference from Yukikaze. Apparently, she was obeying the pilot’s instructions as well.
Well, I can definitely perceive some form of consciousness, but what exactly is this machine intelligence? Asking that question was useless, Lieutenant Katsuragi concluded coldly. The plane would probably just answer, “I am Yukikaze.” He’d just as likely get the same response from Captain Fukai. “I am what I am, Lieutenant,” he’d say. What he was more interested in was what Rei was doing and just what his relationship was with the JAM. Aside from that, there was no need to ask them what was about to happen. He was about to learn that through personal experience.
Lieutenant Katsuragi coolly followed his pilot’s instructions. When you want to know the truth about something, nothing beats personal experience, as Colonel Rombert would say. The lieutenant thought back on the colonel’s favorite phrase. The colonel generally followed that up with, “However, there’s no need for you to judge the value of that experience. That’s for me to do.” In short, the colonel saw the people who worked under him as his eyes and ears, while he was the head, and he made it very clear that he didn’t want them interfering where they shouldn’t.
Lieutenant Katsuragi thought nothing of this. He understood it to mean that all that mattered to the colonel was that his subordinates were able to do their job well. Issues of human trust or betrayal never even came into the picture, as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t that Katsuragi didn’t want to establish any deep relationships out of a fear of betrayal. Rather, he just didn’t see any value in sharing feelings of trust with other people and viewed those sorts of relationships as foolish and troublesome. As far as Colonel Rombert was concerned, a subordinate like Lieutenant Katsuragi made for an excellent agent. Here was a man who would do what it took to satisfy his curiosity without any concern for the feelings or endangerment of others. For Lieutenant Katsuragi’s part, a superior like Colonel Rombert, who didn’t demand him to pursue annoying human relationships, was easy to work for.
Katsuragi understood that Colonel Rombert had released him from service because he wanted information about the SAF. It didn’t matter what conditions the colonel had set up with them, though. He was free to live his life as he wanted and was under no obligation to answer any questions the colonel might have for him. If the colonel were to appeal to the lieutenant, Katsuragi would just tell him that he didn’t work for intel anymore. He could just imagine the look on the colonel’s face were he to say that. Katsuragi lived for his own sake, not for anyone else’s, and couldn’t care less about what their expectations were. He’d do whatever he felt was best for himself. He couldn’t believe that there was anyone in this world who’d criticize him for such a stance...
That was why Lieutenant Katsuragi couldn’t understand how Captain Fukai could trust this machine intelligence called Yukikaze, especially in matters of life or death. He might as well have been taking an action based on an unreliable instrument gauge without any idea of how far off its readings were. An action that may be tantamount to suicide, Lieutenant Katsuragi thought as he watched the display panel.
The formations of FAF planes and the small JAM fighters moving to intercept them had yet to make contact. Only about a minute had passed since they’d begun following the target plane’s flight path. It felt like they’d circled round and round, but the truth was that they hadn’t even made two circuits yet. The target plane and Yukikaze were tracing a whirlpool-shaped course through the sky, the turning radius growing ever smaller as they approached the center.
He could see on the passive air space radar the shock wave the target plane produced as it crossed the sound barrier. Yukikaze was flying out of its range, but Katsuragi realized that it would be dangerous if that shock wave struck them head-on.
Suddenly, a shining white spot appeared on the display panel right before his eyes. Lieutenant Katsuragi couldn’t believe what he was looking at. He thought at first that it was some sort of shock wave caused by an intense explosion, but it didn’t propagate like a shock wave. Instead, the shining spot just stayed as it was. Fighting the G forces tearing at him, he looked out of the cockpit in the direction where the spot should have been. It seemed to be centered over the crater where the JAM had self-destructed and caused the cave-in, but with his naked eyes, he could see no difference from before. He wondered if the radar had broken down. The display appeared frozen.
It had clearly picked up the shock wave of the base’s self-destruction. Enlarging its range to maximum, he could see the traces of the pressure-change waves from the blast still spreading outward, the sound of the explosion itself. So the radar was still working fine, but that glowing dot on the display still wasn’t moving. What did it mean?
The lieutenant knew that the passive air space radar was nicknamed “Frozen Eye” and operated by means of a cryogenically cooled ultra-high sensitivity visual sensor. He didn’t know the details of how it worked, as that was a closely guarded FAF secret, but he imagined that the Frozen Eye picked up irregularities in air density, similar to how heat mirages would cause whatever one saw behind them to seemingly shimmer. Katsuragi understood that these microchanges in air density, invisible to the eye, would then be image-processed by a high-speed computer. If that were the case, it wouldn’t be able to sense differences in density unless there were observable moment-by-moment changes taking place. In short, the lines and points Frozen Eye was displaying on the panel had to be constantly moving.
So, this dot had to be vibrating. The instant he had decided it, the dot became a circle and began to slowly expand. And Yukikaze and the target plane were flying straight into it.
Rei realized this too. The airframe was violently shaking now. It seemed about ready to shake itself apart, but he knew that the plane could handle it. The question was whether or not his body could. Here we go, he thought, bracing himself for the impact. Their turning radius continued to shrink as he maintained power.
Lieutenant Katsuragi felt his eyes burn as sweat ran into them. He knew his body was trembling with a fear he unconsciously felt. His head kept telling himself that he was just experiencing what it was that Captain Fukai and Yukikaze were doing, as though this was all somebody else’s problem. His body, on the other hand, wasn’t buying any of it.
For first time, the lieutenant felt that he was behaving as suicidally as his pilot; he was terrified of these maneuvers Yukikaze was pulling. His life was in danger. He could die here, and he couldn’t accept why he was doing this. Even so, this was real. It was happening, and there was no use in trying to deny it.
That was when he saw something outside of the plane that made him wonder if any of this was real at all.
The air space indicated by Frozen Eye was distorting the scenery around it. The changes there were now visible to the naked eye. It almost seemed like an enormous transparent lens was floating over the ruined base. It extended up and down, in a spindle shape. And it was growing larger.
It’s like the Passageway, the lieutenant realized. The Passageway to hyperspace. He tried to twist his head down to check the display panel, but the G forces were just too strong now. He couldn’t move his body at all.
He saw the target JAM plane suddenly roll over, white vapor trailing behind it. A contrail, he thought, caused by the sudden maneuver. An instant later, he felt a shock like an enormous invisible hand swatting Yukikaze.
5
BLACKOUT. REI HAD no sense of losing consciousness, but he figured he might have blacked out for a moment. He heard the sound of a distant alarm. He swallowed saliva as his hearing normalized. He was clearly conscious but could see nothing of his surroundings. Nothing but gray all around. He raised his helmet visor and checked his instruments. A white vapor was rising in the cabi
n. He thought it was a fire at first, but the alarm was all wrong for that. It was water. Mist.
“Lieutenant Katsuragi, give me a damage report. Lieutenant, wake up!”
“I hear you. Running diagnostics now... Flight systems are all green,” he answered, breathing rapidly.
“Fix the cabin environment.”
“The defogger’s running. Current position: unknown.”
There must have been a sudden, temporary loss of pressure in the cabin, Rei thought. That was the cause of the mist. Thinking the canopy might have been blown off, Rei rolled Yukikaze through one turn, confirming her flight responses as well as trying to determine which way was up. Even so, his instruments weren’t telling him anything. Not knowing which way was up, he reversed the roll in case he’d unexpectedly changed course during the initial one.
The alarm indicated TARGET PLANE LOST. Canceling it, Rei checked to see if the wide area search radar was still operating.
Lieutenant Katsuragi noticed that the barometric and radar altimeters were now at wide variance in their readings, way more than the usual measurement error. He looked out the now-clearing canopy to see which reading was more accurate. He had a feeling that both were probably wrong. Yukikaze was flying nearly level, very close to the ground.
It was a strange scene. Dim, with thick clouds spreading overhead as far as the eye could see. Below them was exactly the same. The lieutenant suddenly realized that the “ground” below them was just another cloud formation. Yukikaze was flying through a clear layer between two thick cloud banks above and below. Far ahead of them on the horizon he could see a band of blue light, probably a break in this sea of clouds. Craning his head around to make sure that Yukikaze’s tail stabilizers hadn’t been damaged, he saw that the brightly shining gap extended completely around them. It was colored red behind them. Katsuragi’s entire field of view showed only a ring of light, sandwiched between two layers of clouds.
“No visible damage to the wings. Current altitude is around three thousand meters, and I don’t think this is Faery’s environment, either,” Lieutenant Katsuragi informed Rei. “I think this is some sort of artificially created space. Our altimeter readings are unreliable here.”
“Yeah,” replied Rei. “There’s also a huge cloud layer above us that reflects back radio waves.”
“Holy shit...” Katsuragi murmured. The clouds above and below weren’t so much like the ground than gigantic walls, with this clear area suspended between them. “This is a spatial pathway the JAM use to transport themselves around Faery.”
“Maybe.”
“If we keep flying, will we come out of it, Captain Fukai?”
“I don’t know, but I think we’re going to make contact with the JAM before we leave here. Keep your eyes peeled.”
The engines were running smoothly, but there was no real sense that they were moving forward. It was quiet. The situation was bizarre, but Rei was relieved to see that Lieutenant Katsuragi in the rear seat was dealing with it calmly and not falling into a panic. Yukikaze was silent except for the message on the main display, which declared that she was searching for the enemy. No doubt she was using every means at her disposal to search the skies surrounding them.
“Where’d the target plane disappear to?” Lieutenant Katsuragi asked. “It looks like it didn’t come in here with us.”
“You’re probably right, seeing as it’s not here. It was probably just sent to guide us in,” Rei replied.
“Did you know this was going to happen?”
“Are you asking me if I knew beforehand that we’d be lured into this weird space?”
“Well, that too...”
“You said before that this is an artificially created space. How do you know that?” Rei asked.
“Because I doubt anything like this would exist naturally. If the JAM control it, then it stands to reason that they created it too.”
“That’s a cool assessment to make.”
“What are you planning to do here, Captain?”
“Learn what the JAM’s intentions are,” Rei said. “That’s why the SAF put this operation in motion, although the JAM seem to have made the move before we could. I guess you could say we got our wish. Saves us a bunch of work, this way.”
“Did the SAF get some overtures beforehand that the JAM would be open to contact like this?” Lieutenant Katsuragi asked.
“It’d be natural to think that.”
“To think? Are you avoiding the question?”
“You don’t work for Colonel Rombert anymore, meaning you have no right to cross-examine me. Keep your position in mind, Lieutenant.”
“I’m just asking out of personal curiosity, Captain.”
There’s a way of asking things when you genuinely just want to know about them, Rei thought. Still, as much as the way Katsuragi was doing it rubbed him the wrong way, Rei figured he’d sound much the same if he were in the lieutenant’s place. Rei snorted out a laugh as he thought about it. The lieutenant’s questions weren’t about some duty to figure out what was going on. He really was a lot like Rei in that regard. Besides, Rei had a feeling that Katsuragi was going to get nervous if he didn’t have something to talk about.
“What’s so funny?”
“You just remind me of when Colonel Rombert interrogated me. But yeah, you aren’t him. Just go on, Lieutenant.”
“If you people did receive overtures from the JAM before, then that’s a serious matter,” Lieutenant Katsuragi said. “The other units in the FAF don’t know that, do they? Is the SAF trying to set up some sort of private arrangement between itself and the JAM?”
“Overtures were made in advance,” Rei replied coolly. “But to Yukikaze, not us humans. If that weren’t the case, Yukikaze wouldn’t have told me not to attack and that she was going to try communicating with the JAM.”
“Oh... Is that what that was all about.”
“The SAF theorized that the JAM wanted to make contact with Yukikaze because she made that prediction herself shortly before we left on this sortie.”
Yukikaze performed unmanned sorties several times before now, and it’s possible the JAM had made their overtures to her each time, Rei thought. That was how she knew that the JAM desired to “receive” them. He could imagine that the JAM had made clear their conditions for contact with them — she had to be piloted, not unmanned.
“That’s why I was prepared for this,” Rei continued. “But I don’t know what the JAM are going to say to us. Is that good enough for you, Lieutenant?”
“What do you plan to say to the JAM?”
“I want to ask them what they think I am.”
“And after that?” Katsuragi asked.
“Why, out of all the other planes in other units, they want to make contact with Yukikaze. I want to know what they think she is too.”
“Do you only care about you and Yukikaze, Captain Fukai? There have to be more important things to ask them.”
“Like what?”
“Like why the JAM invaded in the first place. That’s what the SAF and the FAF both want to know. Are you serious? Do you really fly Yukikaze for such personal reasons?”
“Yeah,” Rei said. “What about it? Is it wrong to?”
“Is it wrong? That answer is so disgusting, I don’t even know where to begin,” the lieutenant replied.
“That’s not how you really feel about it,” Rei said.
“How do you mean?”
“It’s not that you aren’t answering me out of disgust. It’s because you don’t know how to judge my answer and you don’t understand how you feel about it. You don’t have a personal question to ask the JAM, and that disgust you claim to feel only comes from your being a soldier in the FAF. You’re acting the way you think a good soldier should, but you don’t really care. So do me a favor and stop trying to impress me.”
Lieutenant Katsuragi was silent.
“Think about it for yourself, Lieutenant. I’m pretty sure you know how you feel.”
“Does everyone in the SAF fly for the same reasons you do?” the lieutenant finally asked.
“I couldn’t care less why they do it,” Rei replied.
“So, the SAF is... yeah. That’s fine, isn’t it?”
You draw the most strength when you fight for yourself, Rei thought, as he silently nodded. He looked outside. The scenery hadn’t changed. Maybe the JAM were carrying out a cunning plan just to annoy him. Rei was concerned about their remaining fuel, but then noticed they hadn’t consumed nearly as much as he’d thought.
“It doesn’t matter what motivates your unit’s pilots to fly, as long as they achieve their strategic goals,” Lieutenant Katsuragi said. “If you find out what the JAM think of you and Yukikaze, we can figure out what their strategic objectives are and develop strategies to anticipate their behavior.” He paused a moment. “I was really shocked when you just coolly said ‘yeah’ like that, Captain. I just couldn’t come up with anything to answer that.”
“You would have said the same thing if you’d been in my position. There was nothing shocking about it. You and I are a lot alike.”
“I was shocked because saying something like that in any other unit would have earned you a trip to the firing squad. If the SAF permits conversations like this to happen every day, it’s in real trouble. Well, I suppose I don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Do you have a meeting arranged with Colonel Rombert?” Rei asked.
“No, but I figure the colonel will approach me somehow. Still, even if he does, I don’t plan to tell him about this. Besides, considering the situation, I doubt he’d believe me even if I did.”
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