Yukikaze’s advanced reconnaissance technology—electronic sensors that could detect information no human could and optical sensors which could resolve details beyond the ability of the human eye—hadn’t been able to find the answer. And so she’d opened a real-time link to Rei in order to tell him that. Even if Rei knew what this unknown JAM was, there’d be no way he could directly sense it at TAB-15. While this battle had elicited a response from Rei, it hadn’t brought him back to normal consciousness. It was a kind of half-sleep, like sleepwalking. All he could think was to attack indiscriminately.
Even knowing this, Major Booker figured that it might be better to reconnect Rei to the tactical computer and plug the transmitter’s energy pack back in. The fault in the communications system the tactical computer had asked about was caused by his disconnecting the pack. If he put it back, perhaps they’d know what it was that Rei was aiming at.
But the major also remembered Rei’s words: shoot everything that moves. He paused. That might as well constitute an order for Yukikaze to kill every human at TAB-15.
“Lieutenant Fukai has blacked out. He cannot indicate the target. Inform Yukikaze.”
Roger. B-3 will continue to investigate abnormal deceleration of 505th TFS.
There’d been a slight pause before the tactical computer had printed Roger out on the screen. To be fair, while the tactical computer might have been slightly obsessive about calling Rei back to consciousness, its desire was no more intense than that of Major Booker. He wanted to have a deliberate talk with the tactical computer, to ask it just how much it, a representative of the SAF’s machine intelligences, had learned about what had arisen between Rei and Yukikaze.
It seemed that Yukikaze’s attack on TAB-15 had been Rei’s idea, but the inability to identify the 505th TFS as friend or foe had been Yukikaze’s own problem. Seeing that, Rei had reacted, taking over her operations. If his actions didn’t have a rational motivation, then all Booker could say was that Rei had lost his mind. That was what a human would think. But neither the tactical computer, nor Yukikaze, thought that Rei was insane.
Major Booker realized that a discrepancy had developed between the humans and their combat machine intelligences. During the short conversation he’d had with the tactical computer, the situation had changed bewilderingly, leaving the major with no time to worry about Rei. The tactical computer was in a similar position.
TAB-15 radioed, demanding an explanation for why Yukikaze had strafed them twice. As the ranking officer, General Cooley had to answer. She paused a few moments, pressing her lips together, then told the major to report it as an accidental weapons discharge. The major, concentrating on his conversation with the tactical computer, didn’t hear her at first. The general got his attention, and just as he was realizing what was happening, TAB-15 replied.
This is TAB-15. Roger, scrolled out onto the screen.
However, an actual human voice that sounded like one of TAB-15’s comm officers radioed in, asking what they were talking about and demanding to know who had sent the transmission and what exactly they meant when they broadcast that the JAM were present at TAB-15. The tactical computer at SAF headquarters had digitally transmitted the message to TAB-15’s central tactical computer, and it was the computer that had sent the acknowledgement. The humans of TAB-15 hadn’t done so.
“We’ve got casualties in our ground crew,” the comm officer shouted. “SAF, are you trying to kill us?”
Before Major Booker could explain that it was accidental fire, the tactical computer sent a command to cut voice transmissions, but no one paid any attention to the readout showing this. This was because Lieutenant Mayle’s plane, the lone survivor of the 505th, had judged Yukikaze to be an enemy and was engaging her.
Detecting attack targeting waves from Alpha-1, Yukikaze reported, identifying Mayle’s plane by its code number.
Roger, the tactical computer responded. Investigate Alpha-1’s mobility performance. Initiate mock combat.
This is B-3. Roger.
General Cooley clasped her hands together as she glared angrily at the main screen. She seemed to be saying something under her breath, but the major couldn’t make it out. It might have been “God,” but it could easily have been “fuck” or “shit” or any number of expletives. And they weren’t directed at Lieutenant Mayle’s plane. Major Booker thought she was swearing at Yukikaze and the tactical computer as they chatted back and forth without acknowledging her.
Even so, she didn’t command them to stand down. The voice comm line was cut and the radio on Lieutenant Mayle’s plane was being jammed by Yukikaze. Even if the general had issued an order, there was no way for her words to reach anyone.
“Keep an eye on the 515th’s movements,” General Cooley quickly said. “Get Yukikaze back to base before they show up.”
“This won’t be long, General,” Major Booker replied. “Alpha-1’s practically at bingo fuel.”
Either way, Yukikaze and Alpha-1’s dogfight wasn’t going to last long. Victory or defeat would come in the next thirty to sixty seconds. They might be equally matched in a dogfight, but the plane with the most fuel remaining to get home would win. A plane with no fuel was going down, whether it was shot down or not. The two things a pilot was always fighting were enemy planes and how fast his plane burned through its fuel.
Yukikaze had jettisoned her huge auxiliary fuel tanks before engaging the JAM. She just barely had enough to return to base, but the major decided that she had more than enough to reach the emergency in-air refueling point they’d prepared.
If nothing went wrong, there’d be no need for an in-air refueling. That was one of the things Yukikaze had gained from her new airframe that made her superior to the Sylphid and Super Sylph. Her greater cruising range might be said to be more important than her weapons and maneuverability. Fuel to an airplane was as vital as oxygen to a deep-sea diver. If it ran out, the plane was dead. The constant need for the pilot to be aware of his remaining fuel was a major cause of stress.
“This is quite a show.”
Once again hearing a strange voice, Major Booker turned. There stood a lone SAF pilot, arms folded as he watched the screen. A Boomerang soldier. The newest member of the SAF and pilot of Unit 13: Second Lieutenant Yagashira.
The soldiers of the SAF needed no special permission to enter the command center, but none of them ever did unless ordered. Major Booker couldn’t recall any flight personnel ever entering the center of their own volition. To the major, Yagashira was an incongruous presence in the room.
Maybe he wanted to get a feel for the atmosphere of the SAF, being a new arrival and all. Certainly seemed like the sort of guy General Cooley would like, the major thought as he turned to ignore the pilot and focus his attention back on Yukikaze.
“Lieutenant Mayle won’t win, will he?”
From behind him, Lieutenant Yagashira had spoken again.
“His fuel’s critical. Typical how Lieutenant Mayle is engaging anyway. Good guy, but his combat reactions are slow.” Yagashira sounded like he was gossiping as he spoke. “There’s no way he can beat the latest and greatest unmanned fighter. Now, if it were me—”
“Shut up,” said Major Booker.
Lieutenant Yagashira hadn’t said anything out of line, but his chatter was irritating Booker, like fingernails on a chalkboard. He didn’t have time to wonder why. Yukikaze had just initiated combat maneuvers against Lieutenant Mayle’s fighter.