YUKIKAZE (31 page)

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.