Good Luck, Yukikaze

was the reason she wasn’t equipped with a system through which to communicate verbally with humans, and Rei hadn’t felt the need for one. At any rate, getting back to base in one piece was the important point. An analysis of what exactly the JAM were could be left for headquarters to worry about.

So, Yukikaze had taken it upon herself to work on this question while she was on standby. That makes her a better pilot than I am, Rei thought. Still, he had to make sure that she hadn’t gone insane. So long as he didn’t know how she thought, he feared that she might once again cast him out of her.

Yukikaze probably understood the JAM a lot better than any human could. There was no doubt about that, considering no person could match her ability to gather and process data. Yukikaze needed no sleep and would continue with her task as long as her power supplies lasted. But even if she worked round the clock researching strategies and tactics to beat the JAM, that didn’t necessarily mean that she grasped their true nature. He didn’t know if Yukikaze’s conjecture took into account the possibility that the JAM couldn’t perceive human beings. The SAF’s combat intelligences hold that viewpoint, so it’s possible Yukikaze adopted it as well when she consulted them, but perhaps she just doesn’t care? Still, Rei thought, as long as humans continue to fly in her, she has to know that she can’t just ignore us. That he wanted her not to ignore the humans who would ride in her. That they were to fight together, as partners.

Rei continued monitoring the operation of Yukikaze’s central computer in the cockpit as she waited on standby. That would be the only way he’d ever find out what she was thinking about and what her thought processes were like. It was just like when he was in combat, trying to sense how she’d react.

Even had Yukikaze been equipped for human communication, Rei guessed that there’d be no way for her to express her conscious thoughts in words. The reason for this was simple — human language had developed to suit human modes of existence. Growing out of a completely different architecture, while she might be able to mimic human expression, there’d most likely be parts that would be untranslatable. For example, Yukikaze’s consciousness would never be able to really use any words that dealt with human emotions. If he were to ask her, “Do you like me?” she’d have no understanding of what the words meant.

Still, she was able to recognize that her partner, a man named Captain Fukai, was aboard her now. And that if he operated her in a certain way, Rei would find the answer to what he sought. It was an unspoken communication between them.

Yukikaze was aware that Rei was on board because all current planes in the SAF had the ability to tell when their masters were in their cockpits. Both the instrument panel and the helmet Rei currently wasn’t wearing were equipped with small lenses. By capturing an image of his face, Yukikaze could know that it was Rei who was sitting in her cockpit. The system wasn’t in place simply to recognize who was piloting the plane, but also to constantly monitor the direction and orientation of the pilot’s gaze.

Yukikaze wasn’t equipped to receive input by glance. She didn’t have an active command input function and there was no way to tell precisely what a pilot was looking at. All the system did was measure the contrast between the iris and the sclera of the eye to tell in which direction the pilot was looking. So, it didn’t allow the pilot to directly input commands by glance alone, but an even more advanced user interface had been created based on the information gathered by the gaze-monitoring system.

This equipment was still experimental and only installed on the SAF’s planes, but Major Booker didn’t think of the system as experimental when he decided to order the installation. It was a system ready for practical use. The other planes, which had advanced central computers similar to Yukikaze’s, would use the information to anticipate what their pilots were planning and then act on it, Major Booker had thought. He’d had the Systems Corps develop software that would allow machine intelligences to make predictions based on eye-glance input. After a certain period of learning, the plane’s central computer would learn to process the data and use it to decide, Since the pilot is looking at an enemy plane with his naked eye, I should guide the plane in that direction, or Since the pilot has his eyes on the head-up display, I’ll leave the guidance to him and give all my attention to an omnidirectional search for the enemy, or The pilot’s eyes have been closed so long he must have lost consciousness. I will assume full control. That was what it had been developed for.

Pilot and plane wouldn’t need words to cooperate in combat. The ideal would be for the plane to know what its pilot wanted with just a glance. All that was needed was for the system to perceive clearly what its pilot was looking at in a particular moment. Or at least, that was Major Booker’s theory. They’d only installed the system into her recently, but Rei was sure that Yukikaze had already mastered it. He knew that without needing to ask.

Yukikaze’s consciousness existed on a completely different level from human consciousness. Nobody could say that she didn’t have it from the start. Humans couldn’t even be sure of how awareness existed in other humans, or how members of their own species conceived of the world. When we examine another person’s behaviors and attitudes, the idea that they see the world as we do is merely a supposition humans are predisposed to make because we all develop from a similar architecture. But it was difficult to make that sort of supposition about Yukikaze because she wasn’t human. Even so, Rei hoped that he’d flown together with her long enough that he’d be able to understand her. Or, at the very least, to know if it would be worth trying to understand her.

Perhaps Yukikaze had already done it on her end. It was clear that she still valued this human named Rei Fukai in her war with the JAM. Even now, she was analyzing their past battles. She wouldn’t be doing that while ignoring his value as a pilot. Well, if she felt that way about him, then he’d return the favor.

Yukikaze hadn’t changed. Yukikaze had always been Yukikaze. And in realizing that, in realizing that it was he that had changed, Rei had a sudden flash of insight. That he had never really known Yukikaze at all.

2

THE ALARM BEEPING on his wristwatch reminded Rei that he had a short lunch meeting scheduled with Major Booker that afternoon.

Three days had passed since he’d been ordered onto standby. The major had told him about the meeting the previous afternoon but had remained tight-lipped about the agenda or with whom Rei would be meeting. Rei hadn’t pushed the subject. The major’s attitude told him that nothing more would be revealed before the meeting. Not that it really mattered.

Rei wanted to know what it was that Yukikaze was doing in the background as they waited, but his enthusiasm for the project hadn’t yielded proportionate results.

Yukikaze’s central computer seemed to be constantly tracking the mission status of all the SAF’s planes, demanding the data on them from the computers in headquarters as it came in. For that reason, Rei could see where all the other planes were and follow what they were doing on Yukikaze’s main display.

But what was it all for? Rei asked himself. Perhaps this was just one of the functions that had been programmed into her. To put it simply, maybe this was a purely mechanical reaction, she had no consciousness at all, and he was just overestimating his beloved plane to the point of full-scale delusion.

Well, it’s too soon to reach any conclusions, thought Rei as he pushed the headset he was wearing down onto his neck and, after yanking the plug from the comm systems, climbed down from Yukikaze’s cockpit. The major had been very specific about him showing up on time. He wouldn’t know where the lunch meeting would take place unless he came to the office. The details of the meeting would be given there.

Neither the SAF nor the FAF in general had anything like a fancy restaurant on base — at best, this meeting would have to be taking place in a field officer’s private dining room. Even so, it’s so human of Major Booker to adopt such an air of importance about this, thought Rei. He didn’t attach any distaste to the notion. He’d known the major long enough to realize that he wouldn’t be making such a big deal about this unless there was good reason to. If anybody else had copped an attitude like Booker’s Rei would have chalked it up to simple vanity. In the end, similar human attitudes would inspire entirely different emotional responses from Rei, depending on how well he knew the person. It must have been the same regarding Yukikaze. He still didn’t know her at all.

Other SAF planes were lined up in the hangar bay. Like Yukikaze, they had cables like umbilical cords dangling from their undersides. The cables supplied them with power and connected them to the SAF’s vast data network. They were like fetuses. No, that’s not right, Rei thought. They were more like cattle grazing in a field. Having wriggled out of danger once again and sharing the information they’d gathered, they were now back here, calmly ruminating. Only the cud they chewed was data, not grass.

He admired the planes all lined up in their rows as he walked by. They’re like living things, Rei thought. Living, growing creatures who absorbed information and then changed as they