But Yukikaze hadn’t done that. So, had it been a mistake caused by her transferring herself, or was it that Yukikaze had decided she didn’t have to waste time ejecting any human other than Rei? There was no way to tell what her true feelings were. Hell, it was even possible that Yukikaze’s actions had nothing to do with what had happened, and that there was a fault in the FRX00’s safeguard system.
The true reason remained a mystery.
Because these questions remained unanswered, they’d been forced to suspend their plan to mass produce the FRX00 and establish a new SAF. When Dr. Balume suggested that the pain in his neck wasn’t fading because of that, Major Booker grew depressed. Did that mean he’d be stuck with it unless he found an answer? Shit, he thought, if Rei’d just wake up, that’d take care of my anxiety. If Lieutenant Rei Fukai, Yukikaze’s partner, told him, “Yukikaze just decided she should kill any crew on board that wasn’t me,” he might not like to hear it, but he had a feeling he could probably understand it. Even so, it didn’t look like Rei would be regaining full consciousness any time soon.
The Systems Corps had said that if the SAF couldn’t explain the cause of the FRX00’s (Yukikaze’s) dangerous maneuvers, then they would investigate it themselves. When Major Booker objected, they’d demanded that he hand it over to them.
Major Booker had fought back against the demand, saying that he wouldn’t give the data to the Systems Corps under any circumstances. The reason being that the FRX00 was now Yukikaze herself, a battle-tested SAF fighter plane. No other corps would be permitted to read the contents of her central data file. Besides that, if anyone apart from the SAF attempted to check out Yukikaze’s central computer, she would self-destruct. The Systems Corps had dropped the tough-guy routine when he’d pointed this out to them. They knew very well how dangerous an SAF fighter’s central computer could be, mainly because they were the ones who’d designed it.
He’d had to point out the FRX00’s telecommunication log from when she’d returned to base in order to prove that it was now Yukikaze.
At the time, she’d called herself that, identifying herself as Yukikaze.
DE YUKIKAZE ETA2146.AR
“This is Yukikaze. Estimated time of arrival at base 21:46 hours. That is all.”
She hadn’t transmitted Unit B-3, her mission sortie code number, but had identified herself as “Yukikaze.” For the first and only time.
Perhaps Yukikaze was cognizant of the fact that she was no longer in the same body and therefore technically no longer Unit B-3. In that case, the only way she could identify herself was as Yukikaze. That was probably it, Major Booker thought. Or, he had gone on, she might have identified herself solely as Yukikaze as a way to try and find Rei, the one who had given her that name. He’d told Systems Corps that she might have been pretty shaken by the whole experience as well.
Systems Corps pointed out that, if this were true, it would be dangerous to have a combat machine acting in such a human way. Fighter planes didn’t need individual personalities, they’d said. Major Booker decided that Systems Corps was using the situation to claim that the SAF (and by extension, Booker himself) agreed with their theory that the FAF no longer needed manned fighters so that they could steal Yukikaze away from him. That was when he lost his temper, shouting that he’d let an active-duty fighter get taken apart by friendly hands over his dead body. The argument got pretty heated, but in the end, Systems Corps gave up. They got in a parting shot though, pointing out that if Yukikaze had actually transferred herself into the FRX00, she’d used a wireless transmission that could have been intercepted by the JAM, which might have been the cause for the rising damage rates seen in the Sylphids nearly identical to the old Yukikaze. So long as they would not hand her over to them, it would be up to the SAF to investigate this, not to shirk their responsibilities, and so on and so forth.
They can go on saying it as much as they like, but if Systems Corps truly believe that manned fighters are no longer needed, they’re just wrong, thought Major Booker. As far as the SAF’s mission was concerned, you couldn’t separate the men from the machines.
Major Booker reiterated his thought that, no matter how much more reliable the unmanned planes became, the SAF would still have a need for manned planes. Even using their current Super Sylphs as unmanned planes was no good. He was sure that a human pilot could catch data during combat that a machine would simply ignore. Yukikaze’s behavior in real combat during that incident had proved that to him.
It was mentioned in her combat record that, during her mission, Yukikaze’s crew had ejected twice. The first time when they made contact with the JAM, and then later during that mysterious time gap when the JAM shot her down.
If the ejection seat had been fired twice, it meant that Rei, her pilot, had used it once to bail out, and then he’d been flying Yukikaze again, after it had happened. That would have been impossible unless a new ejection seat unit had been mounted into the plane. That meant that somebody had installed a second ejection seat. There was no record that TAB-15, the closest front-line base, had received a request for a spare seat from Yukikaze, so that left only one conclusion: the JAM had installed it. Yukikaze had taken actions during that time gap that they still couldn’t explain. The major was sure that Lieutenant Rei Fukai knew the data that wasn’t in Yukikaze’s data file. It was the sort of data you could only get from a manned sortie. He could imagine that the JAM had engaged in their first direct interaction with a human.
All the answers were probably inside of Rei’s head.
“Please wake up,” Major Booker urgently prayed. If Rei would just wake up, all the stress that was making his neck hurt would fade away. He could have the confidence to introduce the mass-produced FRX00s into service. They might have been dangerous planes for humans to fly, but that threat paled next to that of the JAM.
As for the FRX00, it was in the SAF’s hangar, in its place, lined up next to the Super Sylphs flown by the other squadron members. The only manned version of the FRX99 in the entire Faery Air Force. FRX00. Personal name: Yukikaze. Yukikaze’s new body.
Yukikaze had transferred to the FRX00 and returned to base, but her pilot Lieutenant Rei Fukai had yet to return. Major Booker had eventually been freed of his neck brace, but Rei hadn’t regained consciousness. His physical body might be there, but Rei just wasn’t home.
Major Booker had a pile of problems to deal with. Rei. Yukikaze. The strategy and tactics to use against the JAM. As it turned out, he was about to have even more troubles dumped onto his plate.
2
MAJOR BOOKER SHUT the fighter maintenance file with a sigh and poured himself a cup of cocoa. “I’m busy as hell, but you just won’t wake up, will you Rei,” he muttered. Sitting down on his desk rather than in the chair, he picked up his mug. “Want some?” he asked Lieutenant Rei Fukai.
Rei sat in a wheelchair next to the major’s desk. His eyes remained closed. He didn’t move a muscle.
Every day of late, the major would wheel Rei to his office for about an hour. In the hospital, Rei is just a patient, but here in the SAF’s area he is a soldier and he’s treated like one, thought the major. The chances were very good that even a slight stimulus might be enough to bring him out of his coma.
“Not thirsty, I guess.” The major let out a little sigh and then drank his cocoa. “Self-service. Clean your own cup. What I wouldn’t give for a sharp, hot secretary. Don’t you think I need one?” The major looked at Rei. “ ’Not my problem.’ That’d be your answer, right? Isn’t that what you’d say, Rei? If you could talk. I can guess what you’d say.
“A soldier who can’t fly. Pretty pathetic. Well, you and me both. Here I am, doing a monologue. Although, technically it’s not a monologue when you’re here ’cause I speak for you too.”
No response from Rei. Still, there was that one time when he thought Rei had reacted to hearing Yukikaze’s name. The major took that to be a good sign. Rei’s eyes had stayed closed, but his cheek had twitched.
Twice, Rei had opened his eyes. What are you reacting to? the major wondered. Maybe you’re fighting the JAM in your head, but maybe you’re reacting to something in the outside world. I’d like to know which.
Major Booker had no medical expertise, but he knew Rei better than any of the medical staff. He genuinely believed that Rei wanted to have these conversations with him. He’d gone so far as to set it up so that the telemetry from the brain wave monitor attached to Rei’s head could be received from anywhere in the SAF’s area. The idea was to feed it all in real time into the tactical computer in the SAF’s headquarters as he interacted with Rei. If there’s a correlation between changes in my friend’s brain waves and whatever I’m talking about, the major thought, then I’m having a conversation, not a monologue.
“It’s a touching effort, Rei. I’m sure even you must appreciate that. The SAF’s tactical computer is monitoring you. You really are a big shot around here, aren’t you?”
At this point, analysis didn’t indicate that Rei was reacting to the outside world. It would have been nice if they could figure out a way to translate his thoughts directly into speech. That wasn’t possible now, the major told Rei, but it eventually would be.
“What, you think that’s bullshit? No, eventually we’ll be able to achieve direct human–machine communication by thought alone. You’ll be able to pilot a plane just by thinking about it. You still wouldn’t be able to take those high-speed maneuvers, though. But if you sensed you were in danger and wanted to eject from your plane, you’d be able to activate the ejection sequencer even if you couldn’t move your arms or legs. Rei, you aren’t dead. You just can’t access the outside world, right? Somewhere, there’s still a connection open to you. I’m not giving up on you, because there’s a lot of stuff I want to ask you about.”
Rei didn’t answer. He merely sat, his head slumped against the wheelchair’s headrest. The brain wave monitor he had on his head made him appear to be wearing a hat, but he was dressed in a flight suit. He looked almost bored with the major’s monologue. Booker then changed his mind, deciding instead that it looked like Rei wanted to continue the conversation, so he pressed on.
“So, I told you before, didn’t I? About the newbie we got? For Unit 13. We finally found a successor for Captain Samia. Name’s Second Lieutenant Yagashira. The characters for his name are the ones for ‘bow’ and ‘head,’ by the way. He was asking about you. Wanted to know just what kind of group member you were. You keep goofing off around here and pretty soon everyone’s going to know about you. A pilot’s career is short, after all. Even if the JAM don’t get you, you’ll eventually lose the strength you need to fly. I learned that in the FRX00. What do you think?”
I can still fly, he imagined Rei would answer.
“Yeah, you can still fly,” the major responded. “When you wake up, we’ll have you back in the air in no time.”
The major had seen that, if left alone, Rei’s body would have become as immobile as a plant, and Booker didn’t want that to happen. First of all, it would have been awful to see that happen to a friend, but as the personnel supervisor of the SAF, he didn’t want to lose a good pilot either.
There weren’t many people who could handle SAF duties. It wasn’t just a matter of training or experience but also the need for pilots with the right personality, men who could carry out their missions with a callous intensity.
The new guy who’d been assigned to 5th Squadron, Second Lieutenant Yagashira, seemed a little weak in that respect. That is to say, the major thought coldly, he’s a little too human. Lieutenant Yagashira had asked who Rei was and such, unlike the other pilots in the SAF, who were indifferent toward him. Lieutenant Yagashira might have been a first-rate pilot, but he might also have been unsuited for duty in the SAF. Rei wasn’t like that. He seemed to have been born to serve. If he awakened, he’d want to be sent back into combat as soon as possible.
To prevent Rei’s body from atrophying, it was forcibly manipulated for quite a long time every day. At the rehabilitation center, he’d be loaded into a machine similar to a powered suit to exercise while his muscles were given electrical stimulus. Seeing what looked like a corpse being made to dance made the major want to shut his eyes the one time he went to observe the procedure. However, he gritted his teeth and toughed it out, because he’d been the one who had asked that it be done in the first place.
“You should be grateful for all the trouble we’re taking over you, Rei. Still, even if I wasn’t around, they’d probably be doing it for you anyway. You’re a very important man, after all. What really happened to you? Did you meet the JAM? The actual, physical JAM? What were they like? Please, answer me. You’re my best friend and I’m tired of talking to you like this. There’s nothing wrong with your head. Those quacks in medical told me so, and just this once, I’m willing to believe them. Rei, say something to me—”
A knock at the door interrupted him. “Come in,” answered Major Booker, who proceeded to gulp down the last of his cocoa. He never would have guessed who was about to step through the door.
“General Cooley…” It was Brigadier General Lydia Cooley, boss of the SAF. Major Booker stood up from his perch on the desk and saluted, then offered her the chair behind his desk. His office lacked a decent sofa for visitors to use.
The general pushed her glasses up higher on her nose, then looked at Rei.
“Is Rei in the way, ma’am?” the major asked. “I was about to call the nurse for him, so…”
“No, it’s fine,” the general answered. “Leave Fukai where he is.”
“Did you come to see him about something?”
“Yeah, you could say that. The Intelligence Forces were asking me how long you intend to keep Fukai like this.”
“Hm,” the major replied. “They’re at it again, are they?” This is one superior who always brings tough problems for us, huh, Rei, he thought. “I’m not handing Rei over to them, General. He’s a vital member of the SAF.”
“As a pilot.”
“A pilot who will fly again.”
“When?”
“We’re working on that.”
Her demeanor softened. “I know, Major,” she replied and then sat down in his chair. “You’ve been putting a great deal of work into this. I don’t want to lose a good pilot either.”
So why don’t you handle the FAF Intelligence Forces’ demands that we hand over Rei to them on your end, General? Major Booker wanted to say, but just barely managed to hold his tongue.
“So what’s the problem then?” he said instead. “If we hand Rei over to Intelligence, he’ll end up a human vegetable. They won’t exercise him, just concentrate on treatments to extract the knowledge in his brain, if you can call that sort of stuff ‘treatment.’ ”
“I think your method is the correct one,” she replied. “However, Intelligence doesn’t agree. It’s very irritating. How long has the lieutenant been like this?”
The major paused. “About three months,” he answered. “Today is day ninety-two, General.”
“Fukai’s term is nearly up, then.”
“What do you mean? Oh, of course. You mean his term of service. But Rei was going to reenlist.”
“Unless he makes that intention known himself, he’ll be discharged and become a regular civilian again. If that happened, then there’d be nothing the SAF could do to stop Intelligence.”
“Can they do that?”
“There are big shots in the FAF who are on board with the idea. They’ll make it happen, Major. If there’s something those people want to do, they’ll do it. And we don’t have any big shots of our own among them who can stop it from happening. I certainly don’t have that power. I am essentially the commander of the SAF, but officially the SAF falls under the direct command of the commander of Faery base’s Tactical Combat Air Corps. At the moment, that’s Lieutenant General Laitume. I’m just the deputy commander.”
“Even though we have our own autonomous headquarters.�
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“Despite my rank, I have the responsibilities of a lieutenant general, and the work you do certainly wouldn’t normally be a major’s responsibility. That’s not saying they look down on the SAF. As the war’s tactical situation has changed, our duties have grown in importance, but the internal organization of the FAF just hasn’t kept pace. Still, there’s no use complaining about it. That fact is that, in one month, we’re going to have to give up Fukai.”
The general kept her eyes locked in a sidelong glance on Rei as she said this. “Therefore—” she continued.
“Therefore, you’re ordering me to get Rei to sign his reenlistment papers, is that it?” the major replied, cutting her off.
“Yes,” she answered. “Is that possible?”
“A month, huh… I can’t say for sure, but if Intelligence takes him as he is now, Rei’s probably going to end up an invalid.”
“So long as my SAF has the power of a corps-level organization, that won’t matter.”
As if we, with our thirteen tactical recon fighters, were on the same level as a corps that controls hundreds of planes, the major thought. Still, that was what they said. The data that the SAF gathered affected the entire Faery Air Force, and that was especially true of the data in Rei’s head—if he had seen the JAM’s true form. That could affect the fate of the FAF, if not the whole of Earth. General Cooley was determined to hand over that information herself, to present it as having come from the SAF. In short, she wanted a feather in her professional cap. And it was with an irritated tone that he told her this.
“That may be,” the general answered, nodding coolly. “Still, Lieutenant Fukai is a member of the SAF, and if he wasn’t in our unit, there would have been a lot of valuable information we never would have gotten. By that argument, I already have a feather in my cap, Major. And he may have information that’s just as important. I don’t want all your hard work to be in vain. You’re using the tactical computer in SAF headquarters for Fukai’s treatment. I was the one who authorized that. If I let Intelligence take him at this point, I’ll have no authority left.”
Good Luck, Yukikaze Page 3