Good Luck, Yukikaze

by Chohei Kambayashi

  The JAM behind them held the dominant position, seeming to mock Mayle’s now-lagging plane. He banked sharply, trying to shake them off. “No, other way! Other way!” his flight officer shouted. “Starboard!”

  Lieutenant Mayle realized he’d misjudged his evasion direction. They were going to die. He steeled himself for the inevitable but didn’t let go of his flight stick. There was no time to eject. Suddenly, there was a flash before his eyes. A shock wave rocked the plane. And then, somehow, they were still flying.

  “Wha…what just happened?” Lieutenant Mayle asked his flight officer as he stabilized the plane and got them back on course.

  “I don’t believe it, Lieutenant,” the man responded. “The JAM were shot down. Some help arrived.”

  “Those Fand IIs really earn their keep,” the Lieutenant replied.

  “No, sir. It was B-3. The SAF plane.”

  Mayle paused, dumbfounded.

  “What?” was all he managed as a response.

  Yukikaze. The unmanned plane had shot the JAM down and was now flying beneath Mayle’s fighter. TAB-15 drew into sight.

  “Isn’t that thing just supposed to observe the battle?” he started to ask when Yukikaze began to dive toward TAB-15. That was when Lieutenant Mayle saw something he simply couldn’t believe.

  “What the hell is it doing?!” he shouted.

  Yukikaze was opening fire at the ground.

  Down below lay TAB-15, its ground personnel running from the base. To Lieutenant Mayle’s eyes, Yukikaze was picking off the humans below. But he couldn’t believe it. The plane had just saved him from the JAM, and now it was doing this?

  “Stop it!” Lieutenant Mayle screamed. “That thing’s gone nuts!”

  5

  DEEP BELOW FAERY base, under the protection of SAF headquarters, the command center had gone silent.

  The center’s huge main display screen had suddenly lit up with icons showing the positions of the returning fighters of the 505th. B-3, Yukikaze, was now transmitting strange data during the mission.

  While SAF planes did track the positions of every plane in their assigned reconnaissance area during a mission, they normally wouldn’t transmit that data in real time, and were they to do so, it would only be to track enemy planes; for example, if the JAM did something unexpected that clearly put the FAF at a disadvantage. Normally, the only readout that would appear on the main screen would be the signs marking each phase of the mission as it progressed.

  If all went well, it would end with a display from the operation command plane reporting Mission complete, returning to base.

  All data, such as enemy and allied plane movements, electronic warfare intel, data on enemy and allied gains, and the like would be stored in the data file of the operation command plane and carried back to base. Watching the battle from on high without joining in was the SAF’s duty, and without the data they gathered, no one would even know how many JAM fighters had been shot down. This was because the pilots locked in combat didn’t even have enough time to verify if one of their companions had been shot down or not.

  So usually all Major Booker had to do during a mission was look at the main screen display as it displayed the phrase GATHERING DATA and tick off each point on the attack schedule, while praying that no major abnormalities were reported and that the operation command plane made it back to base in one piece. As much as he’d like to know how the battle was progressing in real time, all he could do was wait. If he didn’t, the JAM could very well steal the information the SAF were gathering.

  If they were seeing concrete data on the movements of an operation command plane, then something had gone wrong. A problem had cropped up in the plane, for example, or the JAM were directly targeting it. But neither of those were happening now. What they were seeing now had never happened before, ever. Yukikaze was transmitting data showing the exact position, speed, and acceleration of the 505th TFS as it was returning to base. As though it were absolutely vital data. Furthermore, it was identifying the planes of the 505th as FRIEND/FOE UNKNOWN.

  Unknown planes were colored yellow on the main screen. Bogeys that couldn’t be identified as friend or foe had to be treated as enemies, since they were most likely threats. However, the planes Yukikaze was treating as such were very clearly those of the 505th. The five JAM fighters pursuing them to the rear were colored red, marking them as hostiles, with Yukikaze identifying them as short-range high-speed interceptors, possibly of an improved type.

  The SAF battle-monitoring personnel couldn’t decide what was going on. The JAM themselves flying into the room wouldn’t have caused a bigger shock than what was happening now, and as everyone there sat in stupefied silence, the three planes bringing up the rear of the 505th were shot down simultaneously. Several Sylphids, which should have been light and nimble after completing their ground attack, had picked up pursuers they couldn’t shake off and been blown apart.

  Sylphids were designed for hit-and-away combat, built for speed. There was no way that they could have been caught by JAM interceptors.

  On a raised platform at the far end of the center, looking out over the backs of the personnel working there, sat General Cooley at the main command desk with Major Booker at an identical desk next to her. Rei sat next to him in his wheelchair, but the incomprehensible situation had the major’s eyes glued to the main screen and his breath caught in his throat.

  “Why aren’t they accelerating?” he asked. “A Sylph should be able to shake off those JAM easily. Why are they just poking along like that?”

  “Confirm the position of the 515th TFS,” General Cooley said, her voice calm. “Have them cover the 505th. Display courses for Yukikaze and the 515th. Show Yukikaze’s position as well.”

  Major Booker relayed General Cooley’s commands via his headset mic to the tactical computer in headquarters. The text ORDERS EXECUTED was displayed. Yukikaze broke away from her preplanned reconnaissance air space and began closing on the 505th at high speed.

  “What’s Yukikaze doing?” General Cooley asked.

  As she was saying this, three more of the 505th’s fighters were shot down. While the Fand IIs of the 515th TFS managed to shoot down one JAM, the other four enemies pursuing the 505th shook them off.

  “Yukikaze’s trying to find the cause of what’s destroying our Sylphs,” replied Major Booker. “I think she anticipated this.”

  Having targeted the 505th TFS, the JAM fighters avoided engaging the Fand IIs in the 515th, dodging them at high speed. The truth was that their tactics suggested that they didn’t care if one or two of their fighters were lost. All that seemed to matter to the JAM was shaking the Fand IIs loose so that they could target the Sylphids ahead and eliminate them. Looking at the 515th, they were keeping a bit of distance from the 505th TFS in order to intercept the JAM fighters. If the JAM were, by some chance, able to break through, the 505th were expected to adopt the tactic of shaking them off. Nobody expected the JAM to chase them so far, since approaching TAB-15 would take the fight inside the base’s air defense perimeter.

  However, the JAM had caught up with the 505th before they’d gotten close to the defense line—there was something wrong. And not just one or two planes, but all of the planes of the 505th had slowed down rather than accelerated, as though waiting to be shot down. It was being charitable to call the situation abnormal.

  Yukikaze relayed the situation to headquarters via real-time data link.

  The four pursuing JAM fighters had easily closed in on the 505th and began picking them off, attacking with air-to-air missiles and cannon fire. Unable to escape, by the time the 505th engaged the JAM, there were only three planes left: the formation led by Lieutenant Mayle’s plane. The other two planes had no chance in the dogfight that followed. Both were destroyed.

  Yukikaze had dived from high altitude at supersonic speed, taking out a JAM fighter with a medium-range missile. She took out two more with short-range missiles as she passed them, then slammed into a steep banking
turn to pursue the remaining JAM fighter as it attempted to flee. She blasted it from the sky with her cannon.

  Not even three minutes had passed since the 515th detected the approaching JAM fighters. In that short time, the 505th Tactical Fighter Squadron had been wiped out. Only Lieutenant Mayle’s plane survived.

  Yukikaze reported her battle with the JAM. Even though all JAM in the vicinity had been wiped out and the threat extinguished, she continued to display that she was actively engaging them and did not secure from attack mode. She continued to display Lieutenant Mayle’s plane as “unknown.”

  Yukikaze, seemingly about to turn her anger on the Sylphid for having been so easily destroyed by the JAM, wheeled around to pursue Mayle’s plane. Then, as though suddenly headed back to base, she assumed a course for TAB-15, closing fast and flying low. Upon reaching it, she opened fire with her cannon in ground attack mode.

  On screen, the indicator continued to show that she was engaging the enemy.

  “Abort the attack,” General Cooley said. “Order Yukikaze to return to base. Cancel its mission.”

  She certainly sounds calm, Major Booker thought, then answered her in a tone as equally businesslike. “We can’t issue an abort order. She won’t accept it.”

  If the JAM ever decrypted an abort attack order, they could render Yukikaze powerless. To avoid this danger, she’d been designed from the start not to accept such orders. They were going to have to leave the decision to Yukikaze to the very end. If Yukikaze had decided that humans were her enemy, nobody would be able to stop her. The major had considered the possibility, but as he confronted the reality of the situation, a shiver ran through his body.

  “Yukikaze, what are you doing?” Major Booker asked. “What is your target? Tell us your target. Do you read, Yukikaze?”

  The tactical computer translated Major Booker’s spoken commands and relayed them to Yukikaze. It then translated Yukikaze’s response back to him. Yukikaze climbed into a turn, flying slowly above TAB-15. She remained in ground search mode.

  Yukikaze’s response was displayed on the main screen.

  Precise detection impossible.

  The icon indicating TAB-15’s position on screen changed from blue to yellow. A red circle was drawn in the center. Red, indicating an enemy.

  “What’s going on here?” asked General Cooley.

  The red mark that indicated the enemy was blinking on and off. It meant that the target was there, but the position was unknown, visual contact lost.

  “Bring it home, Major. There’s a chance that Yukikaze may be attacked by TAB-15.”

  “Yes, General.”

  The general was right. Yukikaze’s communication hinted at a potential disaster the seriousness of which was impossible to convey. It might have simply been due to an abnormality in her decision-making functions, but if they didn’t get her back to base safely, they’d never understand why she had done what she’d done. Common sense would say that Yukikaze had turned against the FAF and TAB-15. As you might expect, the idea that anything that attacked you was the enemy ran very strong on the front-line bases. FAF fighters would most likely try to intercept her.

  Major Booker was reaching for the control panel to issue an emergency recall order when he heard the voice.

  “It’s the JAM.”

  The voice was faint. The major suddenly froze, wondering for a moment if a ghost had called out to him, then whirled in the direction from which the voice had come. There, in the wheelchair, was Lieutenant Rei Fukai. Rei, with his brain wave sensor and transmitter affixed to his head.

  “The JAM…are there…”

  “Major, hurry!” exclaimed General Cooley. The major held up his hand for her to be quiet. Then General Cooley noticed the strange change in Rei’s condition.

  “Look closely,” Rei murmured. “The JAM are there. I see them.”

  Rei’s voice was barely a whisper, but he had definitely spoken. The tone of his voice told them that he understood everything. It was the first time in three months they had heard a word come from his mouth.

  “Rei…” the major said. “Do you hear Yukikaze’s voice? Inside your head?”

  It was impossible, and yet the voice Rei was speaking with seemed to be Yukikaze’s.

  The control center erupted into pandemonium.

  The major’s eyes leapt to the main screen. The red circle had stopped blinking and gone to a steady red. The screen subdivided and brought up a transmission of Yukikaze’s field of view. They could see an image of TAB-15, Yukikaze’s fire control system overlaying a targeting reticle on it. A text readout appeared.

  Precise detection impossible. Cannot identify friend or foe. Probability of new type of JAM: high.

  The shock of Yukikaze’s claim hit the major even harder than the fact that Rei had regained consciousness.

  “What? Where?” he shouted. The JAM’s true form was a mystery, but it was possible that the JAM were some sort of artificial life-form. Had Yukikaze detected an unknown machine creature somewhere in TAB-15?

  “Attacking all moving things,” Rei whispered.

  The major turned. Rei’s eyes were open. He might have been looking at the main screen since Yukikaze’s transmission.

  Rei raised his right hand, which until now hadn’t moved under his own power. The position it took… as if he were holding a flight controller. His index finger moved, and the major instinctively recognized it. He was using the weapon selector. Then Rei pressed his thumb down.

  Yukikaze responded to his movements. Ready gun. Gun attack mode. Resume ground attack.

  The major couldn’t believe what he was seeing. All he could think was that Rei’s will was somehow tied to Yukikaze. Either by brain waves or electrical current, she was sensing his actions and carrying them out. It was true that Rei was wearing monitoring sensors designed to detect his own brain activity, but there wasn’t any sort of system that could translate his thoughts into commands.

  No, the major corrected himself. There was the tactical computer. What the humans may not have been able to do, the SAF’s computers may have achieved.

  “Stop him,” General Cooley said sharply.

  Yukikaze was targeting TAB-15’s ground personnel. The major suddenly grabbed the transmitter affixed to Rei’s head and physically pulled the energy pack from it.

  Inside the center, Yukikaze sounded an alarm. A readout informed the center staff that the target had been lost. In the major’s place, General Cooley ordered Yukikaze to resume normal reconnaissance duty.

  “Rei, what did you see? Can you hear me?” The major shook Rei’s body as he spoke. Rei didn’t answer. Yukikaze was climbing again. Slowly, though. Almost as if she didn’t understand what she’d been doing until then.

  The major had seen the strength in Rei’s right hand as it moved. He had been piloting Yukikaze right up to the very end. The major touched Rei’s hand. It felt firm as steel. A warning sounded from the control panel. A message from the tactical computer.

  Malfunction in Lieutenant Fukai’s communications system. Restore normal function and redesignate target.

  Communications system?

  Major Booker read the text again, and then he knew for sure. Under his very nose, a communications system was being constructed, linking Rei with the tactical computer and Yukikaze.

  Just as he had so fervently wished for Rei to awaken, so too had the SAF’s machine intelligences sought the information Rei carried in his head. It wasn’t an emotional wish. Perhaps a more direct desire. “Wake up,” the machines and Yukikaze were saying to Rei. And Rei had responded to them where he hadn’t for the doctors or even his friend.

  But was he really awake now? Major Booker wondered. It was just another nightmare where he fought the JAM inside of his own head, wasn’t it? In short, it was possible that the tactical computer had merely coaxed him into a state of semi-consciousness.

  “What was the target? What were you going to attack?” the major asked Rei. But Rei didn’t answer
, just sat stiffly looking at the main screen. No use, the major thought. Rei hadn’t been fully awakened.

  An unknown JAM, the SAF headquarters’ tactical computer replied. Conjecture that threat to TAB-15 exists from unknown JAM. Form, abilities, and function: unknown.

  “And you think that Rei—that Lieutenant Fukai knows the details of this threat?”

  Lieutenant Fukai’s order to B-3 to attack indicates high probability that he senses unknown JAM threat. B-3 determined abnormality in 505th TFS to be the work of the JAM and opened an emergency transmission line. Lieutenant Fukai sensed this and judged the cause to be JAM presence at TAB-15. However, I cannot directly perceive this enemy by myself. Lieutenant Fukai’s instructions are necessary. I detect an abnormality in the communications system connecting Lieutenant Fukai to me. Inform me of the cause.

  Yukikaze’s advanced reconnaissance technology—electronic sensors that could detect information no human could and optical sensors which could resolve details beyond the ability of the human eye—hadn’t been able to find the answer. And so she’d opened a real-time link to Rei in order to tell him that. Even if Rei knew what this unknown JAM was, there’d be no way he could directly sense it at TAB-15. While this battle had elicited a response from Rei, it hadn’t brought him back to normal consciousness. It was a kind of half-sleep, like sleepwalking. All he could think was to attack indiscriminately.

  Even knowing this, Major Booker figured that it might be better to reconnect Rei to the tactical computer and plug the transmitter’s energy pack back in. The fault in the communications system the tactical computer had asked about was caused by his disconnecting the pack. If he put it back, perhaps they’d know what it was that Rei was aiming at.

  But the major also remembered Rei’s words: shoot everything that moves. He paused. That might as well constitute an order for Yukikaze to kill every human at TAB-15.

  “Lieutenant Fukai has blacked out. He cannot indicate the target. Inform Yukikaze.”