But what was it all for? Rei asked himself. Perhaps this was just one of the functions that had been programmed into her. To put it simply, maybe this was a purely mechanical reaction, she had no consciousness at all, and he was just overestimating his beloved plane to the point of full-scale delusion.
Well, it’s too soon to reach any conclusions, thought Rei as he pushed the headset he was wearing down onto his neck and, after yanking the plug from the comm systems, climbed down from Yukikaze’s cockpit. The major had been very specific about him showing up on time. He wouldn’t know where the lunch meeting would take place unless he came to the office. The details of the meeting would be given there.
Neither the SAF nor the FAF in general had anything like a fancy restaurant on base—at best, this meeting would have to be taking place in a field officer’s private dining room. Even so, it’s so human of Major Booker to adopt such an air of importance about this, thought Rei. He didn’t attach any distaste to the notion. He’d known the major long enough to realize that he wouldn’t be making such a big deal about this unless there was good reason to. If anybody else had copped an attitude like Booker’s Rei would have chalked it up to simple vanity. In the end, similar human attitudes would inspire entirely different emotional responses from Rei, depending on how well he knew the person. It must have been the same regarding Yukikaze. He still didn’t know her at all.
Other SAF planes were lined up in the hangar bay. Like Yukikaze, they had cables like umbilical cords dangling from their undersides. The cables supplied them with power and connected them to the SAF’s vast data network. They were like fetuses. No, that’s not right, Rei thought. They were more like cattle grazing in a field. Having wriggled out of danger once again and sharing the information they’d gathered, they were now back here, calmly ruminating. Only the cud they chewed was data, not grass.
He admired the planes all lined up in their rows as he walked by. They’re like living things, Rei thought. Living, growing creatures who absorbed information and then changed as they made it a part of themselves. And what would they grow into? That, no man could say. The fighters’ computers, sitting side by side, probably didn’t know either. Even as they stood next to each other, Rei didn’t sense that they perceived themselves as a group.
Along the way, he noticed the flight crew of Unit 3 at work aboard their plane. Their attitude told him that they were preparing for a single-fighter mission.
Rei didn’t call out to them. Shouting hello when he had no reason to would just make him a bother. It wasn’t like the members of his squadron didn’t share information with each other, but while they were well attuned to gathering data they tended to be indifferent to the very existence of other people. The members of the SAF might have been a unit, but they weren’t an actual group. The SAF didn’t function as one. They were founded on the idea of flying missions independently, without any expectation of backup from headquarters, even in combat. In a fight, all they had to depend on was their own skill, and so there were no “leaders” or “subordinates” here. The only people they trusted were themselves, and putting yourself first was a trait to be admired. Those were the sort of people who comprised the Special Air Force.
And, like the humans who operated them and whose actions they continually learned from, so too behaved the central computers of their fighter planes. It was possible, Rei thought, that the computers work together with the humans at a level we can’t comprehend to form a sort of synthetic machine intelligence. But if you accepted that premise, you could argue further that they and the human members of the squadron also formed a group consciousness that comprised the SAF, which was why the fighter planes’ computers couldn’t be said to operate in a group. Each SAF computer operated individually, with none assuming a leadership position. They wouldn’t interfere with one another’s work, similar to the machine intelligence in the tactical computer at SAF headquarters. Rei had made sure that the other fighter intelligences wouldn’t interfere with Yukikaze, but they couldn’t interfere even if they wanted to. The system had been constructed to prevent it.
The SAF’s computers had been given the strongest level of self-preservation functionality in order to prevent outside interference by the JAM. Even if something considered an ally tried to forcibly move against an SAF computer, it would select a method to counter the attack. If its autonomy could not be maintained, it would self-destruct. In short, the computers of the SAF, like its human personnel, did not operate as a group. Noninterference meant not expecting any backup from anywhere else. Within the FAF, these machine intelligences formed a unit that was truly “special.”
As Rei drew near the hangar bay exit, now musing that the planes had the appearance of giant cats, listening to each other in a silent assembly, a warning siren sounded inside. The same sort of siren that warned when a plane was about to leave.
Unit 7, having taxied to the central area of the bay, was being towed by an unmanned spotting dolly over to the three-sided central elevator. The plane was a Super Sylph. Aboard her was a pilot and his flight officer.
“Hey, Captain Fukai.” The pilot aboard the plane leaned forward as he called out to Rei. This was extremely unusual. The pilot’s name was Vincent Bruys, and he held the rank of first lieutenant.
“What’s up, Lieutenant,” Rei called back. “Am I in your way?”
“Just wanted to warn you to be careful not to get shot by Llanfabon.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Llanfabon was the name of Lieutenant Bruys’s fighter, Unit 7.
“This lunch meeting you’ve been invited to,” replied Lieutenant Bruys. “I’ve been assigned escort and surveillance duty for it.”
“The meeting’s going to be in-flight, you mean?”
“The details are being kept top secret. They’re not even entered into the computers in HQ. Looks like it’s a special mission. You’ll find out what it is when you go. Major Booker must be afraid that the JAM might slip into the meeting. If you turn out to be a JAM, I’m shooting you down. That’s all there is to it.”
“Do you want to shoot me? Then what are you doing talking to me? If the mission’s top secret, then shut up about it.”
“While I was checking out Llanfabon before, I saw Yukikaze making repeated requests for direct access. You must have known that Llanfabon is on this special mission. It’s supposed to be a secret, so I was wondering how you found out.”
“I didn’t know about it,” Rei replied. “You’re saying Yukikaze was trying to access Llanfabon?”
“Are you saying you weren’t having her do it, Captain Fukai?”
“Nope, wasn’t me.”
“If I were to believe you, that would mean that Yukikaze herself wanted to know about the details of this mission. A special mission whose details weren’t even entered into the tactical computer at headquarters. If Yukikaze wanted to know the details of Llanfabon’s mission, she’d have to ask me directly. That’s real interesting behavior on her part. After this mission’s done, I’ll be reporting it to Major Booker. This mission’s already begun. If you are a JAM, then I hope you either get killed by Yukikaze or that this lunch today will be your last. See you.”
Rei checked his watch; a little over three minutes had passed since the alarm had sounded. He quickly returned to Yukikaze’s cockpit and flipped the main switch on for the display cluster. As he had before, he set the main display to monitor mode to show the operation of the plane’s central computer, selected DISPLAY EXTERNAL COMMUNICATIONS from the menu, then hit the execute button. The response came quickly:
Watch on B-7/mission unknown/request contents… STC.
So Yukikaze had been interested in this secret lunch meeting.
Apparently, Major Booker hadn’t entered details of the meeting into any of the SAF’s computers, which explained why even Yukikaze hadn’t known it was happening. However, she’d noticed that Llanfabon had been assigned the sortie code number B-7 in regards to its operational actions and had cross-referen
ced that with the flight schedule. That was when she’d probably noticed that there were no details pertaining to the mission anywhere and had begun to doggedly search for them.
Until Lieutenant Bruys had called him out about it, Rei had no idea she was doing it. A little earlier, all Yukikaze had done was display the readout B-7 mission unknown on the monitor. However, now that Llanfabon had actually begun to move, Yukikaze had requested the details of her mission from the tactical computer in SAF headquarters. In addition to that, she’d displayed Watch on B-7 to indicate that she was beginning her own observations of Llanfabon’s movements.
A new message scrolled up onto the display.
Request sortie… STC/get permission to sortie… Captain FUKAI.
Yukikaze was asking for permission to take off. He hadn’t been expecting that, but he understood what it meant. But what was with the “Captain Fukai” bit at the end? Yukikaze had never referred to him by his name before. Was Yukikaze personally asking him, her pilot, to get permission from headquarters to take off? Before he could think about it, a new message scrolled up.
STC: permit/set 20908107-sp-mission/ready.
That had come from the tactical computer in HQ. Permission granted for sortie, mission ID number assigned.
STC: trace and watch on B-7…B-1.
Order from the tactical computer: Pursue, trace, and keep watch on Llanfabon, Yukikaze.
Roger, Yukikaze acknowledged.
STC: enter 20908107-sp-mission.
Initiating special mission number 20908107.
Action…Captain FUKAI.
Let’s get this show on the road, Captain Fukai.
Rei knew exactly what Yukikaze was asking of him. He reflexively flipped the master arm switch on, bringing all available weaponry online. This was the first time he’d ever done it inside of the hangar bay. Naturally, Yukikaze wasn’t loaded with any cannon ammo or missiles, but all of her electronic warfare systems were now active. The tracking system activated automatically. There was a faint hum from the rear of her fuselage as Yukikaze’s auxiliary power unit started up. The cables on her underside linking her to headquarters disconnected automatically, and Yukikaze entered fully independent combat mode. All flight systems started up.
An alarm warning of a taxiing plane sounded. An automatically controlled spotting dolly approached Yukikaze and linked up to her front landing gear. The sortie sequence began automatically.
Rei instinctively grabbed the flight stick. It felt unnatural to him, likely because he was touching it with bare skin. In flight, he’d be wearing flight gloves. At the moment, he wasn’t wearing a flight suit, G-suit, or his escape chute. Without a helmet on, he couldn’t connect his oxygen hose. He had to tell Yukikaze that he wasn’t in any condition to fly. She must have already known that. But there was no way to stop the takeoff sequence at this point.
Yukikaze began moving toward the elevator. Rei could still climb down out of her, but he didn’t. There would be more opportunities to get off along the way—when they stopped to take on arms and ammunition and again when they reached the surface. If he got off, Yukikaze could sortie unmanned. He didn’t want to let her do that, but he couldn’t fly with her as he was now. She would have to wait until he was ready.
But would Yukikaze wait for him?
He had to be at that lunch meeting. Not showing up for it would be a serious act of insubordination. But Yukikaze had been cleared for sortie, so what exactly was going on here?
A voice suddenly sounded from the speakers in the headset he was wearing around his neck.
“Rei, what the hell are you doing?!” Major Booker demanded. “Are you taking Yukikaze to the picnic?”
Picnic?
“Rei, answer me. Captain Fukai, I know you’re aboard Yukikaze.”
Rei pulled the headset up to his ears. It was plugged into Yukikaze’s onboard communications port, making him look like he was probing Yukikaze with a stethoscope. The message he’d just received had been an external signal. The display showed that it was originating from the terminal in Major Booker’s office.
“This is B-1,” Rei responded. “Mission ID 20908107. Making preparations to sortie and execute special mission to observe Llanfabon. Sortie sequence engaged.”
“What are you babbling about?” Major Booker said. “I ordered you to attend a lunch meeting. I never said anything about observing Llanfabon.”
“This is the result of Yukikaze wanting to find out about the mission Llanfabon is flying out on. You gave her clearance to sortie, Major.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Then who did? The tactical computer authorized this on its own? I thought the machines couldn’t make operational actions without human consent.”
“Are you telling me you’re not just doing this on your own, Rei?”
“Jack, I don’t know what’s going on here either. What does it show on your end? Does it say that I requested sortie clearance?”
“Yeah. The tactical computer says Captain Fukai issued an urgent sortie request, and that they initiated an on-the-spot mission plan due to the high-level nature of the emergency.”
“Then who gave the final clearance?”
“SSC: the SAF strategic computer. The name on the orders is General Cooley, like it ought to be, but the general says she never issued them.”
“Which means that Yukikaze shouldn’t be able to take off. The thing is, she’s engaged in a sortie sequence right now. That’s reality. So who’s in charge of this mission?”
“You, Captain Fukai. Rei, this is all on you.”
Yukikaze had now been towed completely into the elevator. The fire door closed behind them and they began to ascend.
“Of course,” Rei whispered. “Now I get it.”
Yukikaze sending a request to sortie by herself wouldn’t have gotten clearance, which was why she’d been so insistent that he, her pilot, should request it. At the same time, she’d been telling the tactical computer that Captain Fukai was requesting permission to sortie. Now he understood what that Get permission to sortie…Captain FUKAI business had been about.
“What did you agree to do on your own? This is gross insubordination and completely unauthorized. Just how do you expect to take responsibility for this? Answer me, Captain Fukai!”
The reception was crystal clear, even inside of the elevator.
“Yukikaze can take responsibility. She made the sortie request in my name.”
“You’re telling me Yukikaze used your name to trick us?”
“Yukikaze knew that I’d agree with her flying out there.”
“You just told me you didn’t know what was going on!”
“I do now, and I need to sortie. Yukikaze doesn’t like not knowing what Llanfabon’s mission objective is. That’s all she wants to know. The tactical computer agrees with her, which is why it’s sending her out. My theory is that they’ve made it out that a human—me in this case—is making the demand so that they’re technically not ignoring us and doing this on their own. The tactical computer in HQ is probably doing this so that it can amend the mission related to this lunch meeting of yours and add in a mission outline at least. That’s probably what’s going on here.”
“Amend the mission? You’re saying the tactical computer would just arbitrarily amend the contents of a mission?”
“It’d have to add it as an amendment to the special mission related to the meeting,” Rei said. “There are times when pilots on a mission have to request changes to their mission details. It’s never happened before a sortie, but the tactical computer must have judged that Yukikaze was facing that sort of situation. It was able to initiate the sortie sequence by following that protocol. This all happened because you were treating this mission as special and didn’t behave the way you would normally. In other words, your secrecy is to blame for this, Jack. If you’d just told the computer about the meeting, Yukikaze would have accepted it. So what do we do, Major? Try to forcibly abort this takeoff? That won’
t be easy, since Yukikaze’s set on doing this. Even if we explained things to her now, she’d still want to check it out herself. In other words, she is going to take off and follow Llanfabon.”
“Roger,” Major Booker replied.
“Roger? Are you saying I can get ready for takeoff?”
“In regards to Yukikaze’s sortie, headquarters recognizes that it accepted a request from you, Captain Fukai. I just need you to confirm that the request came from you. That way, there’ll be no problem. You’ll be at that lunch meeting, as scheduled, and that you are Captain Rei Fukai. Do you get what I’m saying? Now, reconfirm that for me, Captain Fukai.”
“This is Captain Fukai,” Rei replied. “I will be attending the meeting. I made the request for Yukikaze to sortie. Reconfirmation, over.”
“Very good.”
“I’m going to send Yukikaze out in automaneuver mode. Is that okay, Major?”
“There’s nothing else we can do. We can’t predict what she’ll do out there, but we can analyze this and figure out how to deal with you after the mission’s over. Stand by in there and then deplane once you’re on the surface. I’m sending Captain Edith Foss up to meet you. Follow her instructions. She’ll show you where you need to go.”
“Captain Foss? Do I really need a doctor to chaperone me to this meeting? Or is she invited to it too?”
“I have no comment about who’s invited, what it’s about, or any other details. Just follow the tactical computer’s plan for Yukikaze’s weapons and fuel loadout. I’ve checked it out and it’s basically the same as Llanfabon’s. Don’t interfere.”
“This is B-1, roger. Captain Fukai, over and out.”
“Okay. Over and out.”
B-1 was Yukikaze’s sortie code number. The B was for Boomerang, the SAF’s nickname, while the number one indicated that it was Unit 1 in the squadron. Captain Fukai referred to Rei himself, of course. It was the first time he’d ever used this particular classification response.
This will be the first time Yukikaze and I will be taking separate actions, Rei thought, then corrected himself. Yukikaze has always acted on her own. I just never noticed before.
Good Luck, Yukikaze Page 17