VIII Super Phoenix
The JAM had never attacked humans directly. Yet when they changed their strategy, Yukikaze did not protect him. In that moment he knew the truth. She was a weapon, but one that defended neither him nor humanity. She abandoned her burning body and rose from the flames like a phoenix, reborn and free.
MAJOR BOOKER WAS analyzing the recent state of the JAM’s tactical weaponry development in comparison to the FAF’s, desperately searching for a weakness.
The FAF Systems Corps’ Technology Development Center had been putting in strenuous efforts to create effective counters to the JAM’s various assault aircraft and armaments. For decades now, both sides had been locked in a game of technological one-upmanship, but recently the pace had escalated rapidly.
When the JAM threw high mobility fighters at their defensive lines, the FAF deployed new light fighters with high thrust-toweight ratios. When the JAM developed advanced electronic countermeasures, the FAF created more advanced electronic counter-countermeasures. The JAM responded to that with even more advanced ECCCM, which the FAF then managed to crack using high-powered radar. The power output of this radar was unimaginable, a frightening correction to the common assumption that radar waves didn’t really affect humans. Even at two to three kilometers away, an unprotected person would be in danger. At close range exposure would be like being thrown into a gigantic microwave oven.
Missiles were countered with high-velocity missiles, which were countered by hyper-velocity missiles, which were in turn countered with laser guns, and the lasers guns with baryon guns. As the FAF worked to neutralize the JAM’s weapons, in order to keep their own from being neutralized as well, they had to develop ones that not only met that same level of technological achievement but surpassed it. Obsolescence was simply a matter of time, and the periods they had before their weapons became obsolete were getting steadily shorter.
As Major Booker compared the data from each side he noticed something strange. Although it required a significant amount of time to develop and perfect such advanced technology, the FAF and the JAM seemed to be doing so at roughly the same rate. Depending on the situation, one side may have achieved overwhelming dominance for a few weeks using a new device, but countermeasures would soon appear and the war would grind back to a stalemate again. The main issue was that neither side could give concrete form to new tactical theories in only a few weeks. No matter how far in advance the JAM or the FAF could plan something that would utterly crush their opponent, by the time it was ready for use, it would already be obsolete.
Sometimes it seemed to Booker that the war was nothing more than a practical test of weapons development, with the planet Faery as the test lab. Or maybe the JAM were just matching their countermeasures to the FAF’s level of technology. If that was the case, they were being toyed with. Toyed with by aliens whose true nature was unknown.
There weren’t many people at the FAF’s Technology Development Center these days. A supercomputer sat in a refrigerated room, keeping its head cool as it endlessly analyzed JAM tactics. The analysis data it generated was sent to a development computer equipped with an artificial intelligence that would then propose potential countermeasures. Among these proposals were things a human wouldn’t have thought of, as well as some that were completely novel but also largely incomprehensible and impossible to execute given the current level of technology. An example was a proposal for a transdimensional bomb. The computer had been deadly serious, predicting the JAM would eventually develop one and advising the FAF to implement countermeasures accordingly.
The development computer would pass on its ideas to a lower-level practical implementation computer that would devise plans for the new weapon to be manufactured at the development center. With computer aid, of course. This entire development process wasn’t so much computer-aided as it was computer-driven. New fighter planes were designed based on new tactical theories. Materials were chosen, and new ones created if necessary. Load strengths were calculated, wing shapes determined, and the onboard armament systems were developed all simultaneously. The new fighters had to be utilized according to the new tactical theories they were based on, and so the pilots couldn’t simply fly them according to their own judgment. It wasn’t necessary for the pilots to think at all.
The days of a pilot taking into consideration a plane’s unique qualities and using his creativity and imagination to fly in the way best suited to take advantage of them were long past. The system created the tactics as well as the planes. No matter which pilot flew it, the plane would deliver the same performance. The best pilots for these new fighters were the ones who could quickly adapt to the machines without any questions, without wondering why they were fighting or how best to destroy their opponents. All they needed were the physical strength for the task and faith in the machine. There was no need for thought; the computers would think for them. At the very least, the computers could understand and execute tactics faster and with greater precision than any human could.
Despite the vigorous efforts of the FAF computers, the JAM countered them one by one with seeming ease. As though they were testing the abilities of humanity’s machines, not of humans themselves, just as Major Booker suspected.
However, there was one exception to this dynamic. Even the JAM were at a loss when it came to the Sylphid, the treasure of the Earth Defense Organization’s Faery Air Force. While models with the same name and basic configuration had been released, their parts and designs tweaked to make them more easily producible, the original Sylphid’s maneuverability and reliability still went unmatched.
The Sylphid, originally developed for hit-and-away attacks, boasted a huge thrust-to-weight ratio. Its avionics system was now even more advanced than when it had first been developed, and its wing shape had been subtly modified to give it extreme maneuverability. The original Sylphid was an FAF mainline fighter, but only three air groups—a total of forty-nine planes— were produced.
Of those, thirteen strategic reconnaissance variants were delivered to the SAF. These planes had one section of stabilizing wings removed to make them even faster and more capable than the mainline fighters at evading low-level antiaircraft munitions. These thirteen, the most powerful of the Sylphid variants, were unofficially referred to as “Super Sylphs.”
Although the JAM had managed to hit them on different occasions, they had yet to shoot one down. How these planes, now ancient in terms of production time, still managed to remain the strongest in the war was a riddle that vexed both the computers and the humans at the TDC. They’d developed—and continued to develop—several new fighters that according to their specs should have been superior to the Super Sylphs. But none of them were.
But then, Major Booker thought, they’ve probably never seriously tried to determine what the key factor is in the Super Sylph’s survival rate. The Sylphs of SAF-V, the Boomerang Squadron, had a return-to-base rate of 100 percent. And Booker knew the reason why: it was their exceptional pilots. It was common sense that the SAF would select only the most elite pilots to fly the air force’s best planes. But he knew that the computers probably didn’t want to admit that, since it would gut the entire premise that these fighters would deliver maximum performance no matter who was flying them, or even if they flew unmanned.
Right there, Major Booker felt he had the answer. He noted down his thoughts and began to draw up a report.
The Sylphs of the SAF were superior because of something both the JAM and the FAF computers considered an aberration: they were paired with humans in a system that generated the highest levels of combat proficiency. They flew in a way that the development computer hadn’t foreseen at the design stage, and that the JAM could not predict and therefore regarded as a threat. The SAF Sylphids existed for the purpose of reconnaissance. For observation. They monitored not only what was going on around them, but also their own tactics, combat, and flight performance. The pilots were constantly charged with the single directive of making it back to base; to do so, they constantly had to evolve their tactics in response to the JAM attacks. These thirteen Sylphs carried in their data files the records of the desperate actions taken by their pilots to survive hard-fought battles. Their AIs had learned from actual combat what they could not have learned from simulations. To the machines, it was aberrant data, but the fact remained that it was data that had enabled the fighters to survive.
A pilot with excellent combat intuition was essential to the function of a superior fighter—up to a point. Once the “learning” phase for the AI was over, the human would become a hindrance. In fact, the Super Sylphs of SAF-V had already reached the point where they could carry out their missions completely unmanned. Now the pilots were not just unnecessary: they were actually inhibiting the abilities of the planes. One day, if it became possible to replicate human intuition via data analysis, and if the computers did not consider it an aberration, then humans would no longer be necessary even for that initial knowledge acquisition phase.
They hadn’t reached that point yet though. Humans were still necessary to fight the JAM. The development center computers had not recognized that crucial factor yet. However, the JAM very well might have. And that was what lay at the core of Major Booker’s growing unease. Now the only things in the FAF that could reliably oppose the JAM were just thirteen fighters. The thirteen Super Sylphs of Boomerang Squadron.
Booker carefully worded his report to convey these thoughts to his commanding officer, General Cooley. It emphasized three proposals: that SAF-V’s Super Sylphs be completely automated, that the new fighter planes being worked on by the development center computers be equipped with AI systems of the type used by the SAF, and that their training be given over to Boomerang Squadron.
General Cooley reviewed his report, ordered him to provide her with more details, and then took it upon herself to present the major’s proposals to her superiors. While the high command of the Tactical Air Force recognized the merits of Major Booker’s proposals, the Systems Corps, and especially the computers, vehemently objected. They agreed with the proposal for automating the planes but disputed the assertion that the key to the Boomerang Squadron’s performance was the human pilots.
To support their position they referred to the results of a single flight test conducted by the TAF’s combat tactics development task force. That flight test had also been the major’s idea, with the aim of gauging the effectiveness of transferring Yukikaze’s AI system into a different plane, one that wasn’t a Super Sylph. The results were not satisfactory.
Booker believed that the test failed because the other plane’s central computer was insufficiently powerful and its flight capabilities were inferior to a Sylphid’s. Its reaction speed, response characteristics, and the strength and reliability of its control surfaces were too different. The test confirmed what Booker had suspected, which was that the learning function of Yukikaze’s AI was closely linked to the plane’s physical structure; in order to transfer it to another plane, they would need a brand-new, highcapacity computer that was completely “clean,” with no tactical software loaded into it, as well as a plane with an architecture that was completely compatible with Yukikaze’s flight, navigation, and fire control systems. In other words, they would need a copy of Yukikaze.
The major doubted they could create many of these copy planes, and more importantly, he doubted whether they should. One of Boomerang Squadron’s strengths lay in the distinct individualism of its pilots. If the entire Tactical Air Force flew the same planes as Boomerang Squadron and used the same tactics, it would form a pattern that the JAM would soon detect.
The Technology Development Center computers objected to this point as well, insisting that they could create and implement such a wide array of combat tactics that the JAM would not be able to discern any common elements. Major Booker did not yield to them. The plane that the TDC was currently working on was an upgraded variant of the Sylphid that was completely automated; he insisted that the design be modified to allow a human to pilot it. Both the TDC computers and its human staff regarded the major’s demand as completely unreasonable. Putting in life-support systems would make the plane heavier and cut down on space for the electronics, and adding a G-limiter would reduce its maneuverability. Booker tried to persuade them by conceding that the plane did not need to be flown manned all the time. Once it had been adequately trained by an SAF pilot it then could be completely automated.
In the end, the Tactical Air Force decided to implement Major Booker’s proposal on a provisional basis, with the new fighter prototype being produced in both manned and unmanned variants. Only thirteen planes—the same number as in Boomerang Squadron—were planned for combat deployment.
Booker worked to establish the foundation of a repurposed SAF, one in which the pilots’ primary role would be to train the new Sylphid. The unmanned prototype still had no name and was instead referred to by its development number, FRX00, which indicated that is was the 100th new fighter plane developed by the FAF, counting both major types and variants.
New technology was making the existing SAF planes more reliable during unmanned flight, and gradually more and more pilots got used to the sight of seeing their planes sortie without them. The Tactical Air Force had already recognized that the amount of data that needed to be collected was exceeding the capacity of the existent SAF. And so it was decided that the current mission of the SAF would be brought to an end and that it would be given a new mission, one based around the automated flight of its aircraft. After a trial period, when it was determined that full automation did not hinder the execution of its reconnaissance duty, the SAF became the first completely unmanned squadron in the Faery Air Force.
The last manned flight would be Yukikaze’s. The mission was an ultra low-level penetration to deploy intelligence-gathering sensor pods in D-zone.
“THIS WILL BE Yukikaze’s last flight.”
When Major Booker announced this to Rei and Burgadish in the SAF briefing room, the two Boomerang soldiers betrayed no discernable reaction, their expressions as blank as always.
Their mission operation was simple. They were to take off carrying tactical automated information sensor pods, cross over the forests of Faery, and deploy the pods in the white sand desert that stretched like a sea of sugar across D-zone. However, there was an element of risk involved: the FAF did not have mastery of the airspace in D-zone. Yukikaze would have to drop the TAISPs quickly and try to get out of there before the JAM detected their incursion.
The pods would then burrow into the desert and deploy passive sensor arrays to track JAM movements. The system could detect a wide range of frequencies, distinguish useful infrared data from ambient heat, recognize shapes in the visible light spectrum, and even record sound via changes in air pressure. When the JAM were not present, the pods would deploy butterfly-like wings above the sands to gather energy using a solar generation system. After that, they would wait quietly for the enemy. If one was discovered it would either burrow back into the sand to try and avoid destruction or, if there wasn’t enough time, would broadcast a high-power warning beacon before the JAM destroyed it. They were impressive pieces of technology, but the FAF considered them expendable.
“Question,” said Rei. “Why are you having Yukikaze do this? And why manned? There’s no actual need for me to be flying this mission, is there?”
His tone of voice was unusually cold, even for him, and from that Booker knew a roil of conflicting thoughts must lay behind his friend’s impassive facade. This was the end. Rei would not fly with Yukikaze again.
“D-zone is essentially unknown airspace,” answered the major. “Something might happen that Yukikaze can’t anticipate. In that case, she’ll need your piloting instincts.”
He tried to sound as calm and positive as possible, but Rei’s expression did not change. “Any other questions? If not, then you’re dismissed. Your preflight briefing is tomorrow morning at 0830. That is all.”
Major Booker watched them exit the room. He knew with a sinking certainty where Rei was headed and followed.
Yukikaze was in the maintenance bay. Rei silently looked up at his beloved plane.
“Rei, come back alive. That’s an order.”
Rei didn’t react to the major’s affectionate catchphrase. He was standing directly under the kanji characters that spelled out Yukikaze’s name, just staring at them.
“She’s a good machine, but she doesn’t need you anymore.”
Booker noticed Rei’s right hand twitch slightly.
“Will all the machines not need people anymore?”
“That’s how the CDC computers would have it. The thing is, human intuition is a threat that the JAM can’t anticipate, and the Earth-side machines just don’t understand that. We can apply Yukikaze’s artificial intelligence and learning functions, but there isn’t a plane aside from the Sylph that is capable of mounting a central computer powerful enough to handle them. And the problem there is that while the Sylph’s size allows it to house all this high-tech equipment, it also limits its aerodynamic qualities.”
“Yukikaze has survived because all I do is run away. We don’t engage. I don’t know if she could handle a full-on dogfight.”
“She could now. And she can win. Don’t underestimate her. She’s a more amazing machine than you give her credit for.”
Rei said nothing and continued to gaze up at his plane.
Booker patted him on the shoulder and told him to come along. When Rei didn’t move, he said “Oh, so you don’t want to fly anymore?”
“What?”
“Let me introduce you to the FRX00. If you don’t want to fly it, I’ll understand. There are other pilots who will, and you can go home. To Earth.”
“I won’t fly anything but Yukikaze—”
“Pretty soon, this plane won’t be Yukikaze anymore. She’s not your pet and she’s not your lover. She’s an FAF fighter. Don’t ever forget that. You’re just one pilot. If you don’t like it, then quit. Any of the others would be overjoyed to go back to Earth.”
Major Booker walked toward the elevator. Rei took a deep breath, looked at Yukikaze one last time, and then followed.
The SAF hangar dedicated to Boomerang Squadron was located on the third level. They descended far below this, to a level with very tight security. In addition to his ID card, which normally was enough to open a hangar door lock, the major also had to insert a separate entry authorization card.
The door opened. They stepped into a small, airlock-like isolation room. It closed behind them, and then the opposite door slid open to give them access to the hangar.
There was a single fighter plane inside. It was large for a fighter but still a bit smaller than Yukikaze.
“So, this is the FRX, huh? It’s small. No vertical stabilizers?”
“It has two sets of them, but the primaries and secondaries are folded flat at the moment. That may be why it looks small to you now, but it’s actually only 7 percent shorter and 20 percent lighter than a Sylph. Most of that weight differential is due to its smaller engines. They’re based on the same design as the Mk-XIs, but they vary in a number of ways.”
Booker went on to explain the FRX’s key attributes to Rei. Its vertical stabilizers chose the best angle automatically. Its simple clipped delta wings had no leading edge slats and were joined smoothly to the airframe with strake sections. The tips of the wings were flexible and could bend to prevent wingtip stall-outs. Just forward of the strakes, jutting out like knives, were small, highly swept canard wings, which stabilized the aircraft during flight and could be extended and retracted from the airframe as necessary. The engine intakes were bisected by the main wings above and below, giving the FRX the appearance of having four engines at first glance.
“It’s twin engined. There’s nothing to block air intake, no matter what sort of maneuver it pulls. Stalls and flameouts will be a lot harder to cause.”
“Can it fly backwards?”
“We haven’t got that far ahead yet.”
“Yukikaze did it.”
“And stalled out her engines.”
“Only because she took them to idle. If she’d kept them at full power—”
“You wouldn’t have survived. Your body couldn’t take a maneuver like that at such high Gs. Maybe not hers either. The point I’m trying to make is the FRX is a combat prototype, a new model that’s being introduced so that SAF-V doesn’t get broken up.”
“And what happens to the current Yukikaze?”
“She’ll be part of a new squadron. A completely unmanned one. She’s being promoted.” Booker glanced at Rei’s masklike face and bit back a sigh. “This FRX is still clean. We start test flights tomorrow. Eventually I want all the planes in the FAF to have the learning function that this one has—that Yukikaze has—and for that we need even smaller high-power computers. What pisses me off is that the TDC computers refuse to acknowledge my idea. This is a fight between humans and the computers. Rei, we still need guys like you. Come back alive. Once your mission tomorrow is over—”
“I’ll have to give up Yukikaze.”
“She’s graduating. She’s leaving you. You have a new student now. Rei, you cannot lose to a machine. We have to be the winners here. They—both our machines and the JAM—have to recognize our value. The outcome of this may be that the JAM will start targeting humans directly, but if that happens, we’ll deal with it. And it will mean that we have value in this fight. As things stand now, humans are meaningless in this war. We’re just being caught in the crossfire.”
“FRX00… I know it’s supposed to be powerful, but I don’t like how it looks.”
“That’s only because you’re not used to it. The FRX99 looks sinister because it doesn’t have a canopy. In any case, it’s superior to the Sylph in every way. The horizontal stabilizers can also move up and down to become vertical stabilizers. When all four tail stabilizers are deployed vertically, the canards up front fully extend. It has preprogrammed modes that determine how each wing moves in what situation, which wing produces what type of lift, and what role it’s supposed to play. But when you fly it, I’m sure you can teach it different ways to use its wings beyond the programming. The central computer on this thing is compatible with Yukikaze’s, but I think it will feel a lot different when you fly it. At the moment, this prototype is the only one.”
“Are we done here?”
“Hm?”
“I’d like to get back to checking out Yukikaze.”
The major kept his frustration with his friend concealed and nodded his assent.
They exited the SAF hangar.
IT WAS THE morning of Yukikaze’s last manned flight.
Rei would have to leave her after this flight, a fact that still didn’t seem real to him. This wasn’t how he had expected it to end. He’d believed that he would fight with her until he died, and to leave her now, while he was still alive, felt like a betrayal.
He settled into the cockpit and began the preflight checks. All caution lights were clear. Master arm, check. Auto combat system, set. Anti-ground attack system, check. Self test for all A/G-AS modes: auto, continuously displayed impact point, high-precision guidance, direct targeting, manual.
He confirmed that all six TAISP pods were mounted on the underside of the plane.
Engine start. Jet fuel starter, activate. Engage JFS engine connection. First the right. The turbine began to spin. The tachometer needle leapt as the oil and flight pressures climbed. Rei took the throttle over to idle. The ignition system activated and the fuel flow opened up. At 40 percent rpm, the starter automatically cut off. He repeated the process with the left engine.
After making sure the operation caution light had gone out, he checked the hydraulic pressure on all systems with the engines at full power. All green. He throttled back to idle again and ran the emergency power system test. Communications, data link, navigation, and display control, all check. Laser gyro, altimeter, and FCS, check. Confirm all flight control surfaces were operating normally. Toe brake, on. Parking brake, off. Anti-skid brake controller, off.
Yukikaze taxied out onto the runway.
Rei slid the throttle to MAX and released the toe brake. Yukikaze began her takeoff. Rotation. Nose up five degrees. Takeoff. Landing gear, up. Speed, increasing. All systems normal. When they reached optimal climbing speed, he hauled her nose up and headed at once to cruising altitude.
At an altitude of 20,000 meters, he went to supercruise. He was 2,000 kilometers from D-zone, and he had to penetrate 500 kilometers beyond that.
Boomerang Squadron Units 1 and 6 flew slightly ahead of him, acting as escorts for Yukikaze. Both planes were unmanned. Yukikaze confirmed the identity of both planes, relaying that they were friendlies via the IFF system. Yukikaze seemed to be communicating with the two planes, and Rei was momentarily frustrated that he was excluded from their conversation. He let it go. Lieutenant Burgadish was silent in the rear seat. There was no need to talk.
They covered 1,800 kilometers in forty minutes, then performed an in-air refueling before the border of D-zone. The men stayed silent during this as well. The only communication was from Yukikaze’s data link and fuel systems, which were busily exchanging data with the airborne tanker. Rei felt a steadily growing impatience that seemed almost like jealousy. It was as if she was ignoring him, her pilot. He intentionally shook the plane a little during the refueling. Yukikaze issued a warning, and then locked in the automatic attitude control system.
“Yukikaze…”
“Nice,” said Burgadish. “Stays stable even in turbulence.”
Rei frowned. Yukikaze had classified his actions as external turbulence. He recalled Major Booker’s words. She was disregarding her pilot’s will. She possessed her own will now.
“So you’re not always going to do what I tell you to, is that it? Just what are you now?”
“Did you say something?”
For a split second, he thought Burgadish’s voice was Yukikaze’s and felt as though cold water had been dashed in his face.
“No, it’s nothing. Lieutenant, confirm our course.”
“Roger. We can just stay on auto. Another 750 klicks and then we should drop altitude. Once we penetrate Sugar Desert, everything past that point is unknown territory. All we have is data from a few recon planes that have been out there.”
They separated from the tanker and resumed cruising speed.
As they crossed into D-zone their escorts peeled away from them. Yukikaze quickly dove, flying on the deck as they commenced their ultra-low altitude high-velocity penetration. The landscape flowed by the cockpit canopy in a gray blur.
“Here we go. Recheck the bombing system.”
“Roger.”
There was no sign of the JAM. They were only two thousand kilometers from base, and yet this was unknown territory. We know almost nothing about this planet, thought Rei. We don’t even know if this is the JAM’s home world or not. And we know absolutely nothing about them.
And now Rei knew almost nothing about Yukikaze, the one thing he thought he knew best. The one thing he had trusted implicitly.
Yukikaze continued her supersonic incursion, flying on auto toward the TAISP release point. Rei switched the A/G-AS mode from automatic to CDIP.
“Lieutenant?” called out Burgadish. “What are you doing?”
“This is our last flight. I have control.”
“That’s not like you. Leave this to Yukikaze and relax.”
Rei didn’t respond. Sugar Desert drew near, the glaring light of the twin suns reflecting off the sands.
The first target point was indicated on the HUD. The pull-up cue appeared and Yukikaze climbed sharply, as though leaping into the air. Rei guided the plane while watching the fall line on the HUD. The release cue appeared. Keeping his eyes on the pure white sands of the desert, Rei pressed the button. A slight jolt passed through the airframe as the TAISP was fired. They flew level to the second drop point, reaching it in about ten seconds. Rei fired the second pod. Then the third, the fourth, and the fifth.
“Going good. Let’s drop these things and head home.”
“One more left.”
Yukikaze banked into a wide turn. Taking a return course, they headed for the sixth drop point. And then a warning alert sounded.
“What’s up?”
“We’re getting a warning from TAISP-4. Could be the JAM, but maybe it’s an operations test. Our passive radar isn’t picking up anything.”
“Start a bandit search, now.”
“Whoa!”
Yukikaze shuddered. Three small JAM fighters were attacking from directly beneath them, as though they had launched out from under the sea of sand. They may have actually done so, but there was no way for Rei to confirm. Yukikaze went into a high-G turn to shake them off. Rei looked out of the cockpit. He couldn’t see them.
“Lieutenant, evasive action! Break left!”
Almost unconsciously, Rei flipped the V-max switch and engaged the auto-maneuver system. The JAM were too fast for his eyes to follow. He couldn’t fight what he couldn’t see. Yukikaze, however, could see the enemy clearly. She fired highvelocity short-range missiles, but the enemy evaded them.
“Bandits are small assault fighter types. Heads up, they’ve spiked us.”
Yukikaze dodged the enemy missiles with a series of violent maneuvers. Rei and Burgadish both blacked out for several seconds in GLOC.
“We need to bug out of here, Lieutenant,” Burgadish said, huffing in G-strain. When Rei didn’t answer immediately he yelled, “Lieutenant Fukai!”
“Yukikaze is… Looks like she’s ready to fight to the end.” Even if he tried to turn the auto-maneuver system off, Rei knew that it would not disengage.
“God damn it… Yukikaze!”
Rei flashed back to Captain O’Donnell’s death. Is that how I’m going to end up? he wondered. Suddenly, Yukikaze extended her speed brake and an alarm began to blare. The display readout said that a fire had broken out and that they should perform an emergency ejection.
“Bullshit. There’s no fire.”
“What is going on, Lieutenant? Is the central computer—”
Burgadish’s words were cut off by the explosion of the canopy being jettisoned. Rei felt the vibration of the rocket motor on his ejection seat, and immediately jerked the face curtain handle down to protect himself. A second later, Yukikaze tossed her crew out into the sky.
She pulled a high-G diving turn and went for the JAM. Free from having to consider the safety of any human occupants, she rapidly brought down two of the enemy aircraft in a single highvelocity attack sequence. The third JAM dove for the planet’s surface, as though inviting Yukikaze to follow. Just as she was about to pursue, she seemed to hesitate, then climbed into a turn and withdrew at full power.
Four enemy fighters blasted out from under the sea of sand like missiles. They dropped their external power boosters and tore after Yukikaze. As though expecting this, Yukikaze twisted into a Split S, bringing her nose around to center the enemies in her sight, and then fired. She pulled up a moment before crashing into the ground and resumed her pursuit of the fleeing third JAM fighter.
Rei saw none of this. Hanging in the sky from his parachute, the only signs of the battle that reached him were the dry cough of Yukikaze’s high-velocity gun and the thunderous echo of her engines. The burning floor of the desert rushed up to meet him. He hit the ground, rolled, and detached the parachute. The white canopy bellied in the wind, looking like an enormous jellyfish. Rei decided there was no need to gather it up and bury it since the JAM didn’t care about humans.
He removed his parachute harness and unzipped the large survival kit hanging from its rear straps. He drew out the FAFissue pistol, stowed it away inside his flight vest, and then took out the emergency rations and water supply pack.
He saw Burgadish’s parachute about 200 meters away, flapping in the wind atop a pure white dune that shimmered in the heat, looking like nothing so much as a great wave frozen in mid-fall. Holding the gun at the ready, his helmet visor still down, he walked out under the powerful sunlight to go find his partner.
As he trudged through the sand, he wondered why Yukikaze had cut him loose. He thought that maybe she couldn’t accept the prospect that the TAISPs she’d spent so much trouble deploying would be destroyed by the JAM without ever having been used. That was why it was necessary for her to face the JAM head-on rather than withdraw from them as she usually did. And if she had to face them, then weak humans would just get in the way of what she needed to do to win.
If the situation had been reversed—if Rei had to sacrifice Yukikaze to defeat the JAM—he would have done the same. Since he’d have to say goodbye to Yukikaze in either case, he wouldn’t have hesitated to pull the emergency ejection handle. She had seemingly sensed his will and then executed it.
Rei suddenly felt a humanlike intimacy with her that he’d never experienced before, as though they were two life-forms that existed in the same dimension. She’s a part of me, he decided. A companion who knew how he thought, whom he could rely on…
But was that really the case? Rei knew Major Booker would say that he was being naïve. In ejecting him, Yukikaze had simply removed an element that would be disadvantageous to her while maneuvering. Having a pilot aboard meant that she couldn’t fly as she pleased. Or—and this was a possibility Rei didn’t want to consider—she may have decided that Rei might throw the self-destruct switch for the central computer and auto-maneuver system and had concluded that she had to do what she did in order to protect herself. That was definitely what Major Booker would say. That it was a struggle. A struggle of wills between Yukikaze and her human pilot. Rei decided that he didn’t care about that.
It was hot. Sweat was pouring down his body under the flight suit. Cresting the dune, he spotted Lieutenant Burgadish below. Just as he was raising his hand to signal him, he heard a metallic noise nearby.
A sandstorm was bearing down on them, moving fast. It was the bow shock wave from a JAM fighter, flying supersonic on the deck. An instant after he recognized the black speck as a JAM, the fighter burst into his field of vision, passing between himself and Burgadish. White sand rose up like a wall as the two men were blown back. Rei was hurled into the air like a doll and then slammed back to the ground, pelted by falling sand. Dropping his survival gun, he fumbled at the shoulder of his flight vest to switch on his emergency rescue beacon.
The howl of an approaching aircraft made him instinctively flatten himself against the sand, and an instant later Yukikaze roared past in pursuit of the JAM fighter. She fired in front of Rei. There was the flash of high-velocity missiles being launched. An avalanche of sand crashed down upon him. He lost consciousness.
HE DREAMED OF a pure white desert. He opened his eyes. The whiteness remained.
He felt something wiping his face. A white towel. He brushed the towel aside. The air was cold.
“Are you awake now?” asked a female voice in a crisp, businesslike tone. A nurse. That was Rei’s first thought upon seeing her white face. Her skin was so pale it almost looked blue. Maybe because of the lighting in here, he thought dazedly.
An air conditioner hummed faintly. The room was small and white. Spartan. A hospital, maybe? But this wasn’t the air force hospital at Faery Base. It seemed more like a clinic. Rei felt like a castaway who’d washed up on a lonely South Seas island. There were no windows, but he could imagine there’d be jungle outside, and maybe an old-fashioned electric fan slowly turning on the room’s ceiling.
His thoughts were drifting, fragmented. This sickroom was like something out of a dream, somehow not entirely real. He lay motionless on the hard bed and shut his eyes again, waiting for his body to recover sensation. He was still wearing his boots and flight suit. He could tell that his pockets still contained his map, flashlight, knife, beacon, portable rations, and service pistol. That meant that it hadn’t been long since he’d been rescued. But nonetheless something seemed strange. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He was too tired to think clearly.
He took a deep breath and relished the oxygen filling his lungs. The fog in his head gradually cleared. He opened his mouth, the words emerging from his parched throat in a croak.
“Where…Yukikaze…”
“Yukikaze? Oh, your plane. We’re servicing it, Lieutenant.”
“What about…Lieutenant Burgadish?”
“He was badly wounded, I’m afraid…”
“Where are we? A frontline base? Who are you?”
“My name is Marnie. Just wait here a minute. I’ll go get Major Yazawa for you.”
The nurse walked out, to be replaced a few minutes later by a burly, narrow-eyed man wearing a major’s insignia.
“So you’re awake now, are you, Lieutenant?” the man asked, his voice as flat as Marnie’s had been. Rei tried to raise himself up, but the major stopped him. The uniform he wore was definitely that of the FAF’s Tactical Air Force, but the color and the details seemed off. The overall effect gave Rei the uncomfortable impression that he was seeing a vague, hazy image through frosted glass.
Noticing the way that Rei was staring at him, Major Yazawa chuckled. “Were you hit on the head, Lieutenant?”
“Maybe I was,” Rei replied, his tension not at all dissipated by this attempt at humor. He glanced around and saw that his helmet had been placed on a side table near the bed.
“Where am I?”
“TAB-14.”
“TAB-14? Impossible. It was destroyed by the JAM. I saw it happen.”
“The surface facilities are gone, but as you can see, one of the underground sections survived. You guys back at the main base don’t know what it’s been like for us out here.”
“Hm… Is Yukikaze all right?”
“It ran out of fuel and landed at this base.”
“Refuel her. I’m heading back.”
“You can’t. Not in your condition.”
“Can you make contact with Faery Base?”
“No. We still haven’t gotten comm back up and running. They still think we’ve been completely wiped out.”
“That can’t be right. At the least, you could reach one of the nearby tactical bases, couldn’t you? You must have a helicopter or something to get me there.”
“There’s no need. We can take care of this ourselves. We want to service your plane, Lieutenant, and get you on your way, but it won’t let us touch it. It has very ingenious safeguards. If we tamper with them, it will self-destruct.”
Rei touched the gun in his chest pocket. What was this major playing at? Was he trying to cut loose from Central’s command? Was this a mutiny?
“Keep your hands off Yukikaze. That’s my plane.”
“Lieutenant, I don’t think you understand the situation you’re in right now.”
“I shouldn’t have to say this, Major, but I’m attached to the SAF 5th Squadron. I don’t take orders from you.”
“May I remind you that I am a superior officer?”
“You’re not my direct superior. I take orders from Major Booker. His orders were for me to make it back alive, no matter what. Until he rescinds that order, it’s still in effect. I’m sure you’re aware of military regulations.”
“Of course. However, while you are here you will obey me, Lieutenant.”
“And why should I do that?”
“Because otherwise you won’t make it back. If you intend to follow Major Booker’s orders, you’ll obey mine first. Tell me how to deactivate Yukikaze’s safeguards.”
“I refuse.”
“Then you’ll stay here.”
“Is that a threat?”
“All I’m saying is that you should consider your own wellbeing. If you don’t let us service Yukikaze, I don’t think you’re ever going to recover from your injuries, Lieutenant.”
With that, the major left the room. Rei felt like he was still dreaming. He slowly raised himself up and sat on the edge of the bed. After a few minutes, he stood up. He took an unsteady step forward. His balance was shot. The feeling of unreality clung to him. He staggered, then fell to his knees. Marnie reentered the room and, saying it was too soon for him to be up and about, helped him back into bed.
“You people…” Rei said, lying back down. “What are you trying to do? I have to get back.”
Marnie smiled. “We’re just trying to help you, Lieutenant. You should rest for a bit longer.”
Before he could reply, she stabbed a hypodermic syringe into his arm. Just as he was registering the shock of the needle, she quickly withdrew it and looked down at him, her face expressionless. “Good night,” she said. His eyelids grew heavy.
He sank into a world of white.
YUKIKAZE HAD NOT returned. In the SAF control room, Major Booker stared at the wide tactical display screens in disbelief. It had been over three hours since the symbol marking Yukikaze’s position had vanished from them.
“Rei…” he muttered. “What’s going on?”
“It seems he completed his mission,” said General Cooley, standing behind him. “It’s possible that he engaged the JAM and was shot down.”
“Requesting the deployment of a search and rescue team.”
“Denied. We don’t have the resources for it right now. Major, I want you to submit your plan for the combat flight test of the FRX00 prototype that was delivered to our squadron.”
“Yukikaze may have set down on a frontline base. Please authorize me to send the FRX out to look for him.”
General Cooley fixed her cold eyes on Booker for a long moment before speaking. “I’ll leave the selection of the flight test course to you.”
She turned to leave. As the click of her heels receded behind him, her voice floated back. “But I doubt you’ll find him. We’ve received no contact from the other bases.”
After she exited the control room, Booker rubbed at his eyes wearily and returned to monitoring the displays.
“I was going to give you the first plane in the new squadron… Rei, what happened out there?”
He gazed pensively at the screens, as though the act of his looking at them would summon Yukikaze’s RTB sign and bring her home. But she didn’t return.
REI FLOATED BACK up out of the white haze. His body felt impossibly heavy. He knew he was awake now, but he still felt like he was in a dream state, still felt the same vague, insistent unease.
Through his body he sensed a kind of low-frequency hum that he couldn’t actually hear. He couldn’t focus his thoughts. He felt cut off from the real world, a sense of unreality enveloping him like some sort of transparent skin. It was as if his body no longer belonged to him.
Lying in bed, his eyes closed, he listened to someone talking outside the room. It seemed like a voice, but he couldn’t understand what it was saying. It was like the buzzing of bees. Maybe it’s a fairy’s voice, he thought groggily. He didn’t think it was a human’s.
He opened his eyes, rose unsteadily from the bed, and staggered over to the white door. The buzzing in his ears wouldn’t go away. He put his hand on the doorknob and pulled. It didn’t open. After a befuddled moment he realized the door opened out. He braced his shoulder against it and turned the knob. The door swung open easily. So easily that Rei lost his balance and took two or three inadvertent steps out into the corridor.
It looked like a typical hospital hallway, but it was dimly lit and deserted. The buzzing sound had disappeared. It was silent. Then he heard an echoing cry, a sound like an animal being strangled or the screech of a bird. A white form floated toward him. It was Marnie. The soles of her shoes squeaked along the highly polished floor and she swung her hips as she walked, her full breasts swaying. The very mundanity of the scene fueled Rei’s suspicions. The nurse seemed more like an animate doll than a woman. Feeling a palpable revulsion at the sight of her, he retreated back into the room.
“You need to rest,” she told him.
He sat down on the bed. She extended her arm, took hold of Rei’s wrist, and checked his pulse.
“You seem a bit tense, Lieutenant.”
“I think you know why. Tell me the truth. Where are we?”
“Beneath TAB-14.”
“I’d like to check out the surface. Where’s Yukikaze?”
“You shouldn’t exert yourself. We’re continuing to service your plane.”
“You can’t touch her central file.”
“Understood. We’re working on the ejection system, reattaching the canopy, and resetting the ejection seats.”
“Yukikaze uses type EESS-81-03 ejection seats. Do you have those here? And the canopy is a type made specifically for the Sylphid line.”
“We’re fabricating them in an underground plant. You can’t fly without a canopy, after all. And we’ll manage something for the ejection seats. It may take a little time, though.”
“Why don’t you contact Faery Base? That’d be the simplest thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
“We can’t transmit a signal. Lieutenant, can you activate Yukikaze’s comm? We just can’t figure out the systems, no matter what we try. It has safeguards everywhere.”
Rei’s anxiety increased. What were the survivors of TAB-14 up to? In his current state, he couldn’t figure it out.
“Are you…allies?”
“What are you saying, Lieutenant? Of course we are. As soon as we complete maintenance of your plane, you’ll be sent back. We have no intention of holding you here.”
“I’m thirsty. Can you get me something to drink?”
“Of course. I’ll bring you some liquid food.”
“Liquid food?”
“Your body is still recovering, Lieutenant.”
What Marnie brought for him was like a mixture of bouillon and vegetable juice. It tasted awful. She insisted that he swallow it, telling him to think of it as medicine. Rei could only manage to choke down a third of a cupful before giving it back to her.
“That’s enough,” he said and lay down again, trying to restrain his gag reflex. He looked up at the white ceiling. “I heard something strange a little while ago. A weird sound, like a swarm of bees buzzing.”
“Maybe it was the air conditioning system. Sometimes it doesn’t run that well.”
“Oh.”
Marnie smiled, then took the cup and left the room.
After the door shut Rei drew the gun from his vest. It was a 9mm automatic pistol with a roller locking system and light recoil. There were thirteen rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. He held the grip and clicked the safety off.
He wondered why they hadn’t taken it away from him. Was it to prove to him that he was in a safe environment? It was true that he could hardly expect an enemy to leave him armed, but he still didn’t feel safe here. Even as they cared for him, he suspected them of some treachery. And the overall impression that the place gave was oddly still, lacking the tension that normally defined the atmosphere of a frontline base. He couldn’t put it into words, but his instincts were screaming at him that he was in danger.
He got up, holding the pistol at the ready, but just as he was about to step through the door, a wave of nausea broke over him. Slipping the gun back into his vest, he gripped the doorframe and called for Marnie. She came running down the gloomy corridor. He got the impression that she was the only one there. He asked her where the toilet was and then rushed to it. His guts turned inside out. After he finished vomiting, he reeled with an overwhelming exhaustion.
Marnie helped him back to the room and he collapsed onto the bed. He felt feverish.
He awoke to the sound of her voice. He raised his arm to check his chronometer and saw that ten hours had elapsed, but he had no true sense of time’s passage. His fever had gone down, and there was now an I.V. needle stuck in his right arm.
“You seem to have a viral infection, Lieutenant,” Marnie said. “You must have caught it out in the desert.”
“No… No, that’s not right…”
“It seems to be presenting neurological symptoms. You’ve been hallucinating. That probably was the cause of your distress. But you’re okay now. You’ll be just fine. How’s your appetite?”
His stomach was empty, but he never wanted to put that liquid food in his mouth again.
“I’ve made some soup for you,” Marnie said as she drew a small trolley up to the bedside and shifted the bed’s movable table close to Rei’s chest. He sat up. She placed a bowl down on the table. It smelled decent… He decided not to eat the portable rations he had and took the spoon she offered him. He took a cautious sip. It tasted good.
“What is this?”
“Chicken broth.”
“Chicken? It tastes different, though. It’s not instant, is it?”
“Don’t spill it, Lieutenant. There’s more if you want. If you eat too fast, you’ll make yourself sick.”
Rei did as Marnie said and ate slowly.
Major Yazawa came in and set a small computer on the side table. “I figured you must be bored, Lieutenant,” he said. “Would you like to communicate with Yukikaze?”
The major turned the computer on. The display glowed and an image of Yukikaze appeared. She was in a large maintenance hangar, or something that resembled one. It was hard to tell. The image was a little hazy.
“This device can synthesize a transmission on any frequency or wavelength. I’d do it myself if I could get a link through to the plane. I imagine you know how to contact it without triggering the security systems.”
“So you can monitor how I do it? What are you people after? You’re acting like…”
Like they were JAM. Just as he was about to say it, a cold wave prickled the skin over his entire body.
JAM. They were JAM. They had to be. These were the first JAM to ever show themselves to human eyes. They were JAM…
“What’s wrong?” asked Yazawa. “You look like you’re scared of something.”
“Major,” Marnie said smoothly, “The lieutenant is mentally unstable. It’s Faery Fever. It looks like he caught it out in the desert. May I ask you to leave now? I have to administer a sedative. Please, Lieutenant, lie down.”
“I… I’m not crazy,” Rei said. “Take me to Yukikaze.”
“You can leave at any time, Lieutenant. However, we would advise against it. You can’t fly in your condition, can you?”
Rei tried to get out of bed, but the major held him down. He was strong. Marnie slid a hypodermic needle into his arm again. A terrible weakness spread across his body.
“You… What are you…?”
“We’re your friends,” Marnie answered. “The same organic life as you.” Both she and the major laughed.
“A bit different, though,” Yazawa said. “We made a small mistake. A stupid one, really.”
“We realized it when we gave you that liquid food. It was the D-type alpha-amino acids,” Marnie added. “Lieutenant, did that chicken broth taste good? I imagine it was to your taste. You can digest that.”
They were voices in a dream. I’m having a nightmare, Rei thought. The desert must have gotten to him. When he woke up next, he’d be all right. He’d be back in the real world at the normal hospital at Faery Base. No doubt about it…
Once more he fell into the white void.
HE AWOKE TO the same room. Yukikaze was still displayed on the computer the major had brought to him. He saw she had been fitted with a new canopy.
His head felt hollow. He remembered being given some sort of drug and that he’d heard something very important just as he was sliding into sleep, but he couldn’t remember what it was. He gathered his strength and ventured out into the corridor. One direction led to a dead end. He turned around and backtracked to a T-intersection. To the right was a nurse’s station. To the left was a short passage that ended at a metal door. He thought it might be an emergency exit but couldn’t budge it.
He heard Marnie approaching, her footsteps making that awful squeaking noise.
“Do you need something, Lieutenant?”
“Where’s Lieutenant Burgadish?”
“I’m afraid he’s—”
“Dead? Let me out of here. This isn’t a hospital, it’s a prison.”
“Please return to your room, Lieutenant. You don’t look well at all.”
Seeing no other option, Rei went back to the room. Yukikaze glowed on the computer screen. As Rei looked at her, he grew more and more agitated by the feeling that he’d forgotten something. Why was Major Yazawa so concerned about Yukikaze? If he wanted to activate her comm system, all he had to do was turn it on, right? If they tried to force their way into her internal systems electronically, she might activate her self-destruct protocol, but she couldn’t stop a human from flipping a switch. He assumed she couldn’t, anyway. So in short, the reason must be that Major Yazawa didn’t know how to turn on the system or to use Yukikaze’s instrumentation. But if he was in the FAF, how could he not…
Once again a chilling unease swept through Rei’s body, bringing with it a powerful sense of déjà vu. He clutched at his head.
Were they human? Were they JAM? Externally, they looked no different from any other human. Was that the JAM’s real form? A human form? He didn’t believe that. He was sure he had the answer. They’d given it to him. They said that they were his friends. No, after that. After…
Yukikaze. If he had access to Yukikaze’s data file, he might be able to find proof. He reached out for the computer’s keyboard. He knew it might be a trap. Major Yazawa had to be somewhere monitoring the link between this computer and Yukikaze. Even so, Rei figured that freeing himself from this paralyzed state had to take priority.
He spent a few minutes familiarizing himself with the device. He then composed a pulse code on the same frequency as the SAF emergency tactical line and transmitted it. It worked. The link with Yukikaze opened up.
SEARCH FOR JAM.
The message seemed to leap out at him from the screen. It was the same message that appeared on Yukikaze’s display during battle. That was all he needed to know. Rei quickly switched the computer off.
This was a JAM base. It had to be. But he doubted that Marnie and Major Yazawa were JAM. So what were humans doing in a JAM base?
“Why did you turn it off ?” Marnie asked, entering the room. “Lieutenant, you look tired.”
“I’m not tired at all.”
“How about shaving at least? You look awful. You should see yourself in the mirror.”
Mirror. Something stirred in his ragged memory. Mirror. Mirror image. D…alpha-amino acid. The optical isomer of the L-type. He remembered now. He remembered what she had said. He looked at her. What if this woman’s body wasn’t composed of L-type amino acid proteins, but rather D-type polypeptides, making her a mirror image of a human at the molecular level? Is that what she was?
She approached the bedside, a syringe in her hand.
“Come now, Lieutenant. You should get some rest.”
If she gave him that shot, he might never wake up again. If she wasn’t human, how could he find out for sure? Check her body, her cells, her molecules with equipment he didn’t have?
“Lieutenant, you have Faery Fever. This injection will lessen the anxiety you’re feeling. You’re hallucinating, Lieutenant. Get a hold of yourself.”
“I’m not crazy.”
Still smiling, Marnie took hold of his arm. Rei was tempted to just let go and obey her. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was sick, and this paranoia was a result.
Yukikaze’s warning message flashed in his mind. Just before she plunged the needle into his arm, Rei slapped her hand away and gripped her other wrist, squeezing with enough force to make her drop the syringe.
“What are you doing?!” she gasped.
He threw her down onto the floor and tore open the front of her uniform. Her heavy breasts spilled out. She screamed as he sank his teeth into one of them, biting into her flesh.
He pushed away from her, spat out the piece he’d bitten, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It didn’t taste like blood. It tasted like the liquid food that she had brought him. It wasn’t protein.
“Fucking JAM!”
He looked down at her as he drew his pistol and fired a single shot. Her body jerked once, then stopped moving.
He had to get to Yukikaze. He ran out of the room. The adrenaline dumping into his system was clearing his head and returning some strength to his limbs.
The bittersweet flavor of the blood that wasn’t blood lingered in his mouth. The soup Marnie had given him didn’t have that same taste. As Rei ran, he suddenly realized what they must have made it from and felt like vomiting.
Before he could think about it any further he rounded a corner and ran into Major Yazawa. The major immediately reached out and knocked the gun out of his hand.
Keeping his grip on Rei’s arm, he followed through with an outside shoulder throw. His strength was incredible. Rei went with the fall and hit the floor on his left shoulder, feeling a bolt of pain rip through it. Ignoring it, he grabbed on to Yazawa’s arm with both hands, kicked his legs up, locked them around the back of the man’s head, and used the momentum of his body to throw him over onto the floor.
Rei released the hold and scrabbled forward, reaching for his fallen gun. Just as his fingers closed on the grip he felt the major’s powerful hands wrap around his shins.
Before he could even turn to look, he was flying through the air. Straining his abdominal muscles, he twisted his body, just barely managing to get his back around before he slammed into the wall. The shock of the impact momentarily blinded him. He couldn’t breathe. Lying sideways on the floor, he looked up to see the major leaping at him. Two shots. The report echoed down the corridor. The 9mm 205 grain rounds blew Yazawa’s head off.
Rei lowered his arms, gasping for air. After a few seconds he slowly levered himself up into a crouch and rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head to work out the stiffness. He cautiously flexed his limbs. Nothing seemed to be broken, at least.
He stood up and surveyed the scene. Major Yazawa’s body was sprawled out on the floor. The back of his head had been splattered across the wall and ceiling, dyeing their surfaces red. But there was no smell of blood.
Massaging his solar plexus with his left hand, Rei aimed his gun at the lock on the metal door and fired a couple of shots at it. He gave the door a sharp kick and it opened onto a stairwell. He started climbing. Upon reaching the uppermost level, he spotted what looked like an exit, a doorway glowing with daylight. He ran through it…
And emerged into a bizarre landscape. It didn’t look like Faery. He was standing at the edge of a flat, smooth plain that stretched out before him like a sheet of blue ice. Thick clouds hung so low it seemed as if he could reach out and touch them. The underground entrance he’d just emerged from was situated in a forest, and around him the trees shimmered in metallic green hues. Looking back through the strange trees he saw a pond. A pond that glowed a sickly yellow. The surface roiled, as if the liquid were boiling.
He shifted his gaze back toward the open space ahead of him. There was a strip of transparent, plastic-like ground that could have been a runway. He followed it with his eyes and found Yukikaze. She was sitting on level ground about 400 meters away. He left the cover of the forest and ran toward her. He concentrated on his objective, blocking out the fact that he was completely out in the open now, an easy target.
He saw two figures approaching Yukikaze. Pilots who were going to steal her from him. JAM.
Panting for breath, Rei screamed at them to stop. One of them turned at the sound. The strength abruptly drained from Rei’s shooting arm. It was Lieutenant Burgadish.
“Lieutenant…”
Rei began to doubt his own senses, wondering if he really was mentally ill. Was this entire bizarre sequence a hallucination?
He took several steps forward, then saw the man standing beside Burgadish and froze in shock.
He was looking at himself.
“JAM!”
He fired, and the other Rei went down. Pain lashed through his right side. He saw Lieutenant Burgadish holding a gun and fired back. Burgadish crumpled and several rapid shots from Rei’s gun ended his life.
Rei put a hand to his side. The familiar, distinct smell of blood wafted up. He was bleeding badly.
He approached the two bodies and looked down at them. He didn’t think they were JAM. These were androids, created by the JAM. The JAM, who had until now ignored humans, were working out a strategy to target them here. They were creating weapons. Organic antipersonnel weapons. Just as humans had made Yukikaze, the JAM were now making humans. The aliens probably had only a tenuous understanding of human existence. To fight humanity, they probably needed to manufacture weapons that could sense a human at the same level as a human. The same way that humans were using computers to analyze the JAM. If so, it was another piece of evidence that the JAM were mechanical life-forms.
And if so, the parameters of the war had shifted from machines made by humans fighting the JAM to humans made by the JAM fighting humans. The insanity of the situation tore at Rei’s mind. Even though the JAM and humanity could barely comprehend the others’ existences, they were being forced to fight for the sake of the weapons they both made. The JAM may have been even more vexed than the humans, wondering why a machine like Yukikaze, who was like one of their own kind, was attacking them.
Rei approached Yukikaze, hauled himself up the boarding ladder, and climbed into the cockpit. He was relieved to see that the ejection seat seemed to have been properly installed. He couldn’t stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound in his side. Pressing his left hand to the wound, he started the engines.
Looking out of the cockpit, Rei saw a yellow mass headed for Yukikaze. It looked like the same substance that had filled the pond in the forest. As it flowed toward them across the flat ground, it morphed and reformed like protoplasm. Shapes would rise from the ooze and melt back into it again as it moved. Human shapes. Human limbs and heads and torsos. Above them swirled a glinting cloud of small black objects, like a giant swarm of bees.
Were those insect-like forms the JAM? He switched Yukikaze’s ECM system on. Her engines roared. Parking brake, off. The canopy lowered and locked.
“Let’s go home, Yukikaze.”
The humanoid mass pressed up against Yukikaze’s body. He slid the throttle to MIL, incinerating the portion behind them. Yukikaze turned, accelerated, and took off. Landing gear, up. FCS, ON. Master arm switch to ARM. They shot into a climbing turn. A cold sweat had broken out on Rei’s brow, and he could feel the blood pooling in his flight suit.
Yukikaze fired her last remaining high-velocity missile into the black swarm of insects. The flare of the detonation, like a miniature sun, temporarily robbed Rei of his sight.
When he opened his eyes, Yukikaze was flying in familiar airspace. She was going slow, almost brushing the canopy of Faery’s forest. Rei looked up at the blue sky. The gunshot wound hurt like hell, but he felt a lot better. We made it back, he thought.
But the threat hadn’t vanished. As they began to accelerate and climb, Yukikaze’s radar picked up three JAM fighters to the rear, practically on top of them. Flying as low and slow as they were, there was no way for them to evade.
There was a burst of cannon fire. Yukikaze’s right vertical stabilizer shattered. Fire spouted from the right engine.
Describing a wide turn, she plunged toward the forest.
Rei lost consciousness. When he came to, he realized that he had miraculously survived. They had made an emergency landing on the spongy surface of forest canopy, which was dozens of yards thick, robust enough to support the fighter’s weight. The JAM hadn’t withdrawn but had ceased their attack.
Analyzing Yukikaze to the bitter end, Rei thought. He activated her self-destruct system. No response. He then remembered: the switch in the electronic warfare officer’s seat had to be thrown as well. He started to release the seat harness, his hands slippery with blood, then stopped. His arms weren’t working very well, and besides, it looked like the self-destruct wouldn’t be necessary. Yukikaze’s rear section was burning furiously. It was only a matter of time until the fuel tanks ignited.
Rei closed his eyes. He doubted he could pull the eject lever, and he didn’t even feel like trying.
This was the death he’d always imagined. It’s better this way, he thought. He’d always felt that this moment would come one day… The moment when he and Yukikaze would die together.
He heard a beep. Rei slitted his eyes open. He had the fanciful thought that Yukikaze was saying goodbye to him. As he looked at the multidisplay his eyesight grew dim. He slowly reached out and turned the brightness control up. On the screen was the symbol for a single TAF plane flying toward them.
The FRX00. Too late. Too late…
The canopy was now dyed crimson with the light of the flames burning behind him. Enough, thought Rei. He was going to die with Yukikaze. It was all he’d ever wanted. She had never betrayed him.
However, she then did something he couldn’t have anticipated, a singular action beyond anything he could have imagined. His eyes widened as he read the display.
LINK-FRX00-05003. TRANS-CCIF.
“What?”
TRANSFERRING CORE FUNCTIONS OF SAF-V UNIT 3 TO FRX00.
Rei screamed at her to stop, but no sound came from his throat.
Yukikaze was… She was abandoning this aircraft. She was abandoning him.
Glowing columns of numbers and characters began to flow down the display. Yukikaze was transferring her central combat information file to the FRX. There was nothing Rei could do to stop it.
He became aware that his vision was growing dark. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anything… He had the sensation that he was soaring. In skies where fairies danced. Faery airspace.
TRANS-CCIF COMPLETE. blinked on the display. Rei didn’t see it.
Yukikaze had kept him aboard to initiate the self-destruct sequence in case the need for it arose during the transfer. As soon as the transfer was complete, she ejected him. He was thrown clear of Yukikaze and into the air, but he was long past the point of consciousness.
MAJOR JAMES BOOKER sat in the rear seat of FRX00-05003, monitoring the new plane’s electronic warfare armaments.
Just after they acquired the three enemy planes, he noticed an abnormality in the FRX’s central computer. Its learning section was still fairly clean, but the rest of it began to run wild.
“What the hell is this?” he wondered aloud.
A huge amount of data was being transferred from somewhere. Is this a new JAM tactic? In the same instant that the thought formed in his mind, the FRX00 kicked into a high-G acceleration.
“What is it? What’s going on?” the pilot said over the com, his voice tight with tension. “I don’t have control. Major, I thought this couldn’t function as an unmanned plane.”
“Could be the JAM. Kill the flight controls.”
“They won’t disengage.”
“Can we eject?”
“No way. We’re going way too fast.”
Far away, at a distant point in the forest that spread out below them, Major Booker saw black smoke rising.
“Can that be Yukikaze…? Get us over there, now.”
“It’s not responding to anything I do. We might have a fatal defect here. And what’s with all this data input?”
The FRX00 closed rapidly on the three JAM fighters, passed them at full power, and then banked steeply into a high-G turn. The maneuver sent Major Booker and the pilot into GLOC.
It continued its turn around the three JAM aircraft, plotted an orthogonal attack line to their course, and took that heading. It flew direct abeam toward the JAM at supersonic speed. An instant later it was veering up and away, the three enemy aircraft disintegrating behind it, ripped apart by highvelocity fire.
The FRX00 rolled out of its loop and dove toward the forest. It centered Yukikaze in its gun sight and fired a short burst. The rounds impacted precisely on the area of the fuselage housing Yukikaze’s central computer, silencing it forever. The fuel tanks ignited and an orange fireball blossomed on the forest canopy. Metal fragments torn off in the blast danced in the air, reflecting the twilight glow of Faery’s twin suns.
The FRX00 picked up the rescue beacon signaling the position of Yukikaze’s ejected pilot and relayed this information to TAB-15, the nearest frontline base. However, it did not respond to the inquiries of the search and rescue team regarding the condition of the survivor. As though it wasn’t interested in human life and death.
It took a return course for Faery Base, flying in auto mode. Opening a communications link with the Tactical Air Force SAF control room, it relayed the following: DE YUKIKAZE. ETA 2146. AR.
Yukikaze, having obtained a new body for herself, flew on at supersonic speed.
Major Booker and the pilot, still unconscious, didn’t see her transmission to Faery Base of her estimated time of arrival. Neither could they see the setting suns, the sky of Faery as its colors shifted to night, nor the forests below.
Yukikaze landed back at Faery Base and informed control that her mission was complete. Six TAISPs had been successfully dropped at the targeted sites. Mission success rate: 100 percent.
The Faery Air Force acknowledged Yukikaze’s mission completion. Or, at least, the computers did, if not the humans. And there was no doubt that the JAM recognized it as well.
Yukikaze taxied over to the SAF’s section and was towed onto the elevator platform. She descended, vanishing into her lair to prepare herself for the next battle.
And, however briefly, silence returned to the planet Faery.