YUKIKAZE (9 page)

“I wonder just what sort of dogfight the Flip Knight is going to give me.”

“Do it and find out,” answered the major.

YUKIKAZE TOOK OFF the next day at the appointed time. She was accompanied by a large AWACS plane that had been temporarily fitted out as a combat training control unit. During the training, the control plane’s combat data section would be on Yukikaze’s side; the Flip Knight would be challenging the Super Sylph without any support from it. The control plane would synthesize the tactical data of the Knight, its carrier plane, and Yukikaze, and then automatically render an instant verdict of which plane won or lost.

Yukikaze flew at high altitude at a fuel-conserving cruising speed toward Sugar Rock. Rei didn’t care anymore about the purpose or rationale behind this flight test. The troubles and expectations of the world below were left outside the cockpit. In the skies of Faery, all that mattered was the simple principle of kill or be killed. Anyone who allowed himself to be distracted by questions about why he was fighting or why the JAM were here would be killed by his opponent in short order and never make it back alive.

The winners were the ones who made it back.

Rei looked up at the deep blue sky above him. What more was there to think about than that?

Above the thin atmosphere hung the flattened ellipses of the binary suns. The Bloody Road that spilled out from them painted a crimson swath across the sky. A little higher up and he could see it, even in daylight: an enormous whirlpool, like a red Milky Way. Maybe if Faery didn’t have twin suns and there were no Bloody Road and the sky looked the same as it did on Earth, then maybe he would be able to look at things more rationally. This world was too illusory, so exceedingly unreal with its bizarre sights. It was like a dream, or an amusement park, or something out of a fairy tale. It seemed more so at night, as if the very air itself contained a hallucinatory power.

They were approaching the training area. Making a tactical guidance call, Yukikaze headed toward the target point using the comm line and tactical data link it established with the control plane. The control plane remained inside of C-zone and would continue to direct them from approximately a hundred kilometers to the rear.

Lieutenant Burgadish had already picked up their opponent’s radar emissions on the passive detectors. Yukikaze’s central computer automatically input the data into its file and compared the radar waves’ frequency and special characteristics to data on known types it had stored. The onboard computer classified the radar signature as
UNKNOWN
, but just then a call came from the control plane: “B-3, tactical control signals for the Flip Knight system detected.”

Their passive detectors could not pinpoint an exact target location, so the control plane fed them the necessary data. Lieutenant Burgadish confirmed the position of the Flip Knight’s carrier plane on Yukikaze’s radar display. It was about 250 kilometers out and closing. While Yukikaze’s radar was better than that of most fighter planes, it could not compare to the giant radome of the AWACS plane.

“The carrier’s taking its sweet time flying to our rear,” Burgadish said over the comm in his usual bored tone. “The Knights should be launching soon.”

“B-3,” called the control plane. “K-I, K-II, K-III, closing rapidly on your position.”

“What?” said Rei. “Lieutenant, confirm.”

The fire control radar Rei was operating had acquired the target and was tracking it, but it could only detect on a very narrow range.

“Can’t confirm… I see them now. Behind us, closing fast.”

A target symbol appeared on the multi-function display near Rei’s knee.

“Why didn’t the control plane give us an intercept course faster? Are they trying to kill us?”

“The point of this exercise is to simulate an actual assault. Okay, let’s do this.”

Rei sent them into a loose roll down toward the pure white sand, then pulled hard up and about. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the glitter of the Knights climbing up at them. He set the radar mode to super search, flicked the master arm switch to ARM, and pushed Yukikaze into a power dive toward the odd mountain rearing up out of the sugary sands before them. Trying to shake off the pursuing Knights, he used the velocity gained from the dive to whip around Sugar Rock, flying in its shadow with wings parallel to the mountain’s face.

He had anticipated that the Knights would break formation at this point. Most likely, one plane would stay high while the other two would split up to fly around either side of the mountain. He was hoping dearly that they would, because unless he split them up, he’d have no chance of beating them.

About three-quarters of the way around Sugar Rock, the fire control radar picked up Knight-II ahead, almost dead abreast of them, and locked on immediately. Range 1.6 klicks. Rei set the dogfight switch to ON, and the head-up display automatically switched to gun mode.

The Knight was small and hard to see, but the target designator reticule on the HUD framed the plane and showed him its position. However, Knight-II evaded him before he achieved optimal firing position. Not three seconds had passed since the radar lock.

Rei banked Yukikaze hard at full thrust and pursued Knight-II. He got back into targeting position, and as soon as they were within firing range he squeezed the trigger. The number readout on the HUD that showed the rounds remaining in his cannon rapidly began counting backwards. No hit.

“Evasive, right!” Burgadish called out.

Rei reflexively aborted his attack and went into a high-G turn. Knight-I was savagely charging up at them from below: Knight-II had been a decoy.

As they accelerated and slipped over the peak of Sugar Rock, diving starboard, Knight-III came at them nose-on. They merged before he could even pull the trigger. Knight-III made a sharp turn and was on his six in an instant.

“Okay, B-3, that’s it. RTB.”

“Roger.”

“B-3,” Colonel Guneau’s voice cut in. “How does it feel to get killed twice, Lieutenant Fukai?”

He hadn’t been killed, though. He was still flying. He was still alive, so he hadn’t lost. That was the single essential truth of these skies.

“MK-1, Colonel,” Rei replied. “Looks like this flight test turned out just the way you planned it. Satisfied?”

“Very satisfied. The Knight really is brilliant. It exhibited even better combat decision capacities than I had expected.”

“Was that attack conducted in full automatic mode?”

“It was.” Colonel Guneau sounded very pleased with himself. “Are you starting to accept the truth now?”

Rei was silent. The fact he couldn’t object irritated the hell out of him. It wasn’t so much the result of this flight test that pissed him off as it was the colonel’s attitude. The outcome of the flight might have been different if the initial parameters they set up for him had been changed, but Colonel Guneau just now had all but admitted that the outcome was a foregone conclusion, one that had been fixed in the planning stages. Rei recalled how frustrated he felt when he couldn’t adequately put into words his thoughts that, no matter how advanced machines became, people would still be needed.

He didn’t want to believe that he was here only to become a corpse, because that line of thought inevitably led to the colonel’s conclusion.

“I know how hard this must be for you,” the colonel said, “but a loss is a loss. Just accept it.”

“Colonel Guneau,” Rei asked. “Do you have any real combat experience? Any actual flight time in a fighter?”

“No.”

Then you don’t know shit about how I feel
, Rei thought. Colonel Guneau didn’t fight. He didn’t understand the mentality of a soldier. Rei wondered what Major Booker would have to say about it and was struck by the realization that, as a former fighter pilot, the major
would
understand his feelings.

As he climbed higher to fly his CAP on the way back to the base, Rei thought about nothing. Lieutenant Burgadish didn’t say a word about the flight test, either. Rei didn’t ask his partner what he thought about the colonel. He could pretty much imagine the response. “What the colonel thinks has nothing to do with us,” or something to that effect.

With their quiet patrol over—they didn’t encounter the JAM that day—Yukikaze came in for landing. As they descended to the maintenance bay on the elevator, Rei’s tension dissipated somewhat. But the fact that he hadn’t managed to shoot down even one Knight, that in the end he hadn’t beaten Colonel Guneau, left him agitated.

Major Booker was waiting for them in the maintenance bay, with his usual “How’d it go?” greeting to his returning soldiers. Rei gave the same reply he always did: “We’re still alive.”

“How was the Knight?” the major asked as he followed them to the locker room. “Tough as we thought?”

“We didn’t win, but we didn’t lose either.”

“Hm,” said the major, nodding. He knew how Rei felt. “I want a full flight test report from you. We can use the data to improve the Super Sylph’s performance. Later, then.”

“Humans are necessary in battle,” Rei suddenly said. “But why?”

The major halted mid-step and turned around.

“Because wars are started by humans, which means we can’t very well leave it to machines to fight them.”

That’s it
, Rei thought. When you put it that way, it was a simple enough reason. Booker gave him a searching look for a moment and then left the room.

Rei checked the schedule board on the wall. FTJ83 had been entered, commencing in four days. Normally, underneath the mission number would be written the numbers of the planes assigned to sortie and the crew names, but the column under FTJ83 was blank except for the words “All units to sortie.”

He couldn’t keep dwelling on Colonel Guneau. Rei changed his clothes and left the locker room. He’d already put the Flip Knight system out of his mind.
Once it’s perfected, it’ll be the JAM’s problem, not mine,
he thought. The test was over.

REI HAD THOUGHT that was the last he’d have to deal with Colonel Guneau. The next day, with FTJ83 just three days away, all the members of 5th Squadron had been assembled to hear the mission brief from General Cooley. Afterward, he was summoned by Major Booker to receive an unexpected order: he was to fly backup for Guneau.

Seeing Rei enter his office, Booker stood up and walked around his desk, brandishing a piece of paper at him. “Look at this,” he said. “It’s Colonel Guneau again.”

“Does he want a rematch?”

“No, this time it’ll be real combat. FTJ83. They’re sending the Flip Knight out for air defense. It looks like the good colonel’s going to be celebrating by flying in the carrier plane personally. That’s where you come in.” Booker flicked the paper with his finger. “Yukikaze has been tasked to provide guidance support. The orders came in from above, although you’ll never guess who they’re from.”

“Not General Cooley?”

“Try General Jenner, commander of the Tactical Air Force.”

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“Officially, the story is that the TAF has volunteered to provide Colonel Guneau with backup. For instance, if the Knight flies too far from the carrier and gets lost, Yukikaze would guide it home or possibly even guide it to its target. The Knight can fight autonomously, but it’s still limited in its ability to search for an enemy.”

“But why Yukikaze?”

“The TAF’s real intention is to make the Knight system its own, with this temporary utilization as a fig leaf. Basically, this is a demonstration to get funding for it. If they get hard proof that the system can be used well tactically, they may form a new unit combining Sylphs and Knights. It looks like the TAF and the Systems Corps came up with this scheme beforehand. Yukikaze was chosen on Colonel Guneau’s recommendation.”

“I don’t believe this… And I have to do this on top of my regular duty? It’s gonna be a royal fucking pain.”

“I agree completely. But now we have to get Yukikaze fitted with the Knight’s tactical guidance system ASAP. We can do it in time, but getting the system mounted, tested, and adjusted properly is going to take a lot of work. We can’t just slap it on and make it look pretty. If it doesn’t work to spec, it’ll be dangerous. We’re going to be working on this from now through tomorrow, and it’s already giving me a headache.”

The major returned to his desk, picked up the control set manual for the Knight, and handed it to Rei.

“We’ve already begun the preparations. If you want to see for yourself, head down to the maintenance bay. You need to read this in case you’re given guidance authority.”

Rei flipped through the manual, then shrugged. “If that happened then I’d have the Knight operate on full auto. It’d do a better job than me.”

“I’ll leave that decision to you. I’ll officially brief you on the mission conduct tomorrow.”

ALTHOUGH ALL UNITS were flying out, the squadrons were going to be launched on a staggered schedule. Because the scope of FTJ83 was so enormous, the operation had been broken into nine phases. The planes of Boomerang Squadron were assigned to launch in the different phases in accordance with the master battle plan. Each plane would take off on its own, rendezvous with the strike unit it was attached to, then gather battle progress data from the front lines and return to base. That would be the extent of Boomerang Squadron’s duty.

To say that coordinating all of this was keeping Major Booker busy would be an understatement. Unlike all the other fighter squadrons, which would operate according to one set of orders, he had to devise and transmit flight plans for all thirteen individual units in his squadron. This involved the takeoff times, the mission action outlines of the squadrons they were attached to, the return flight courses, the in-air refueling points, emergency support conditions, and a myriad of other elements. On top of that, a normal mission would usually require the launch of just two planes, but in FTJ83 all of them were going out. Add in Colonel Guneau and his Knight system, and the whole thing was enough of a mess to drive Major Booker to tears. Enough so that even Rei felt sorry for him.

“Thanks for all your hard work, Major.” Rei saluted.