Good Luck, Yukikaze

over to them, it would be up to the SAF to investigate this, not to shirk their responsibilities, and so on and so forth.

They can go on saying it as much as they like, but if Systems Corps truly believe that manned fighters are no longer needed, they’re just wrong, thought Major Booker. As far as the SAF’s mission was concerned, you couldn’t separate the men from the machines.

Major Booker reiterated his thought that, no matter how much more reliable the unmanned planes became, the SAF would still have a need for manned planes. Even using their current Super Sylphs as unmanned planes was no good. He was sure that a human pilot could catch data during combat that a machine would simply ignore. Yukikaze’s behavior in real combat during that incident had proved that to him.

It was mentioned in her combat record that, during her mission, Yukikaze’s crew had ejected twice. The first time when they made contact with the JAM, and then later during that mysterious time gap when the JAM shot her down.

If the ejection seat had been fired twice, it meant that Rei, her pilot, had used it once to bail out, and then he’d been flying Yukikaze again, after it had happened. That would have been impossible unless a new ejection seat unit had been mounted into the plane. That meant that somebody had installed a second ejection seat. There was no record that TAB-15, the closest front-line base, had received a request for a spare seat from Yukikaze, so that left only one conclusion: the JAM had installed it. Yukikaze had taken actions during that time gap that they still couldn’t explain. The major was sure that Lieutenant Rei Fukai knew the data that wasn’t in Yukikaze’s data file. It was the sort of data you could only get from a manned sortie. He could imagine that the JAM had engaged in their first direct interaction with a human.

All the answers were probably inside of Rei’s head.

“Please wake up,” Major Booker urgently prayed. If Rei would just wake up, all the stress that was making his neck hurt would fade away. He could have the confidence to introduce the mass-produced FRX00s into service. They might have been dangerous planes for humans to fly, but that threat paled next to that of the JAM.

As for the FRX00, it was in the SAF’s hangar, in its place, lined up next to the Super Sylphs flown by the other squadron members. The only manned version of the FRX99 in the entire Faery Air Force. FRX00. Personal name: Yukikaze. Yukikaze’s new body.

Yukikaze had transferred to the FRX00 and returned to base, but her pilot Lieutenant Rei Fukai had yet to return. Major Booker had eventually been freed of his neck brace, but Rei hadn’t regained consciousness. His physical body might be there, but Rei just wasn’t home.

Major Booker had a pile of problems to deal with. Rei. Yukikaze. The strategy and tactics to use against the JAM. As it turned out, he was about to have even more troubles dumped onto his plate.

2

MAJOR BOOKER SHUT the fighter maintenance file with a sigh and poured himself a cup of cocoa. “I’m busy as hell, but you just won’t wake up, will you Rei,” he muttered. Sitting down on his desk rather than in the chair, he picked up his mug. “Want some?” he asked Lieutenant Rei Fukai.

Rei sat in a wheelchair next to the major’s desk. His eyes remained closed. He didn’t move a muscle.

Every day of late, the major would wheel Rei to his office for about an hour. In the hospital, Rei is just a patient, but here in the SAF’s area he is a soldier and he’s treated like one, thought the major. The chances were very good that even a slight stimulus might be enough to bring him out of his coma.

“Not thirsty, I guess.” The major let out a little sigh and then drank his cocoa. “Self-service. Clean your own cup. What I wouldn’t give for a sharp, hot secretary. Don’t you think I need one?” The major looked at Rei. “ ’Not my problem.’ That’d be your answer, right? Isn’t that what you’d say, Rei? If you could talk. I can guess what you’d say.

“A soldier who can’t fly. Pretty pathetic. Well, you and me both. Here I am, doing a monologue. Although, technically it’s not a monologue when you’re here ’cause I speak for you too.”

No response from Rei. Still, there was that one time when he thought Rei had reacted to hearing Yukikaze’s name. The major took that to be a good sign. Rei’s eyes had stayed closed, but his cheek had twitched.

Twice, Rei had opened his eyes. What are you reacting to? the major wondered. Maybe you’re fighting the JAM in your head, but maybe you’re reacting to something in the outside world. I’d like to know which.

Major Booker had no medical expertise, but he knew Rei better than any of the medical staff. He genuinely believed that Rei wanted to have these conversations with him. He’d gone so far as to set it up so that the telemetry from the brain wave monitor attached to Rei’s head could be received from anywhere in the SAF’s area. The idea was to feed it all in real time into the tactical computer in the SAF’s headquarters as he interacted with Rei. If there’s a correlation between changes in my friend’s brain waves and whatever I’m talking about, the major thought, then I’m having a conversation, not a monologue.

“It’s a touching effort, Rei. I’m sure even you must appreciate that. The SAF’s tactical computer is monitoring you. You really are a big shot around here, aren’t you?”

At this point, analysis didn’t indicate that Rei was reacting to the outside world. It would have been nice if they could figure out a way to translate his thoughts directly into speech. That wasn’t possible now, the major told Rei, but it eventually would be.

“What, you think that’s bullshit? No, eventually we’ll be able to achieve direct human–machine communication by thought alone. You’ll be able to pilot a plane just by thinking about it. You still wouldn’t be able to take those high-speed maneuvers, though. But if you sensed you were in danger and wanted to eject from your plane, you’d be able to activate the ejection sequencer even if you couldn’t move your arms or legs. Rei, you aren’t dead. You just can’t access the outside world, right? Somewhere, there’s still a connection open to you. I’m not giving up on you, because there’s a lot of stuff I want to ask you about.”

Rei didn’t answer. He merely sat, his head slumped against the wheelchair’s headrest. The brain wave monitor he had on his head made him appear to be wearing a hat, but he was dressed in a flight suit. He looked almost bored with the major’s monologue. Booker then changed his mind, deciding instead that it looked like Rei wanted to continue the conversation, so he pressed on.

“So, I told you before, didn’t I? About the newbie we got? For Unit 13. We finally found a successor for Captain Samia. Name’s Second Lieutenant Yagashira. The characters for his name are the ones for ‘bow’ and ‘head,’ by the way. He was asking about you. Wanted to know just what kind of group member you were. You keep goofing off around here and pretty soon everyone’s going to know about you. A pilot’s career is short, after all. Even if the JAM don’t get you, you’ll eventually lose the strength you need to fly. I learned that in the FRX00. What do you think?”

I can still fly, he imagined Rei would answer.

“Yeah, you can still fly,” the major responded. “When you wake up, we’ll have you back in the air in no time.”

The major had seen that, if left alone, Rei’s body would have become as immobile as a plant, and Booker didn’t want that to happen. First of all, it would have been awful to see that happen to a friend, but as the personnel supervisor of the SAF, he didn’t want to lose a good pilot either.

There weren’t many people who could handle SAF duties. It wasn’t just a matter of training or experience but also the need for pilots with the right personality, men who could carry out their missions with a callous intensity.

The new guy who’d been assigned to 5th Squadron, Second Lieutenant Yagashira, seemed a little weak in that respect. That is to say, the major thought coldly, he’s a little too human. Lieutenant Yagashira had asked who Rei was and such, unlike the other pilots in the SAF, who were indifferent toward him. Lieutenant Yagashira might have been a first-rate pilot, but he might also have been unsuited for duty in the SAF. Rei wasn’t like that. He seemed to have been born to serve. If he awakened, he’d want to be sent back into combat as soon as possible.

To prevent Rei’s body from atrophying, it was forcibly manipulated for quite a long time every day. At the rehabilitation center, he’d be loaded into a machine similar to a powered suit to exercise while his muscles were given electrical stimulus. Seeing what looked like a corpse being made to dance made the major want to shut his eyes the one time he went to observe the procedure. However, he gritted his teeth and toughed it out, because he’d been the one who had asked that it be done in the first place.