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.”