Three Wings-
The Su-33s were fairly archaic pieces of equipment. Probably even worse than the Su-27's that the rest of the squadron possessed. At least Sukhoi had bothered selling a new avionics package to bring the -27s into the new millennium. But the -33s hadn't been sold in great numbers, and it didn't make business sense to develop avionics for maybe 60 aircraft worldwide. So we developed our own software for them, and it worked damn well.
But when you looked at the model, with its larger wings, shorter tails, and canards, you knew it looked faster and more dangerous than the Su-27. And you'd be right. Kai and I used to say that the Su-33 was the Ace's Plane because its canards made it more visible on the radar, but it was more maneuverable. An ace's trade-off.
Sometimes, we'd take our lawn-chairs out and sit under the noses of Neucom 1 and Neucom 2, my orange-and-white-and-blue kite and Kai's red-and-black-and white bird, when we were on alert, and just wait for that siren. We'd talk about the city's nightlife, and where to go on our next weekend leave, and whose apartment to stay at.
We'd talk about who'd go on top of whom when the apron guard was at the other end of the alert line. I loved those moments, looking at the fit, blonde, handsome form sitting in that chair and saying things I couldn't have imagined hearing from another man when I was a teenager. "Jean, you're disordered," my father would tell me, shaking his head sadly, "but we still love you. You must put these thoughts out of your head." And hell, I tried to. I wanted so badly to please my family and their God, I made myself think I could like women. I even got laid in high school. It was a miracle I made it through that without embarrassing myself. But I never talked to that girl again.
"So, I was thinking Impasse for our next, ah, get-together," Kai grinned at me. The apron guard didn't suspect a thing.
"Oh, that sounds great. I've heard they have amazing martinis, yeah?" I deadpanned. We both knew I only liked fruity drinks that lied to me about how drunk I really was. Kai was more of a fuel tank than a human being when he drank. He took in substances that might have killed lesser men.
"Yup, that's what I hear too," Kai said, his muscular body convulsing with suppressed laughter at my lie. "I just know how you love your liquor."
The apron guard was at the other end. "All I love is how friendly you get after you get some," I smiled. "You're very generous when you're tipsy."
"I could be generous on our bathroom break," Kai grinned as the guard came back our way.
"Not tonight. Tonight we actually have a headache," I replied quickly, feeling a sharp pain even as I spoke.
That was when the sirens went off.
"Guess we have more of a headache than we thought," Kai grunted, swinging his chair over his shoulder as he got up. "Let's get these things out of the way."
Minutes later, as the canopy shut over my head and the Su-33 rolled forward, it was all business. Kai and I were leading a squadron of four fighters each, all Su-27s in the normal grey scheme. I got on the radio with the tower.
"Tower, this is Nehalem flight, requesting immediate clearance for takeoff, runway 29."
"Nehalem flight, Ark tower. Cleared for immediate takeoff, runway 29. Initial authorization is Angels Three."
"Cleared for takeoff, Nehalem One," I responded, depressing the rudder pedal and wheeling the Su-33 around. I rammed the twin throttle grips to full and was shunted back into my seat as the Saturn 117 turbofans spooled up and the afterburners kicked in. We lifted off at 150 knots, rotating smoothly and retracting landing gear and flaps with a screech from the hydraulics. Before I knew it, we were already at 3,000 feet and leveling out until we got clearance to climb higher. I heard Kai's flight, Nirvana, requesting their own takeoff clearance.
"Nehalem flight, you're leaving our airspace, we're terminating radar service. Contact AWACS on 114.900," Ark tower instructed.
"Roger that, Nehalem Flight switching to 114.900," I said, flicking the radio dial around to the new frequency. Somewhere high above us, an Airborne Warning And Control System jet was cleaving through the sky, its enormous radar randome slowly rotating atop its fuselage. And it was this jet that we made contact with.
"AWACS, this is Nehalem flight, requesting vectors for interception of the bogeys."
"Nehalem flight, this is AWACS callsign Overlook. We have you on radar about 10 miles southeast of Ark Air Force Base. Bandits are on heading due north, going up the coast, 95 miles from your current position. There are two flights of six. We're sending Nirvana flight to intercept the second on heading 085. You've got the first. You are cleared to engage if they do not comply with your instructions."
"Nehalem flight, copy," I smiled. "Ivanov, Liarh, go trail with me and stay close. Kost, Evans, climb and fence them in. Oh, and Evans, do try not to black out this time."
"I didn't black out!" Nehalem Five replied furiously. "I just got a headache, is all."
"Sure you did," grinned Nehalem Three.
"Cut the chatter," growled AWACS. "Keep radio open for priority transmissions only."
"Alright, Nehalem flight, here's a priority for you. I don't want those long-range boys in the Su-30MKs coming down here and embarrassing us. If they don't comply, I want them all down in five minutes. No reinforcements. Got it?"
"Yes sir," they chorused.
"Good. Let's get a move on and catch 'em before they get back into international waters. Go supersonic and turn on your weapons radars. Show them we mean business."
They didn't need to be told twice. The Saturn engines were a dull roar in my ears as their fantastic thrust pushed the MACH needle past 1.0, and the AESA radars sent electromagnetic waves miles and miles out to detect the fighters.
"I've got something on radar," said Nehalem Two, Anton Ivanov. He was a good kid, a fine flyer, very bright and technical, but not the strongest of the bunch. He'd been having a hard time passing the fitness tests, and any maneuvers over 7G were going to be incredibly tough for him.
Kai's flight got on the horn as well. "AWACS, this is Nirvana flight, requesting vectors to intercept." Overlook relayed the same information to them as they had to us, and Kai radioed me. "Nirvana Lead to Nehalem Lead. Should we turn on our composite radar projections?"
"What do you think, Two?" I asked.
"The latest software beta seems stable. I think it ought to work this time," Ivanov said. "No guarantees."
"With these planes, there are never any guarantees. Other than the guarantee that something's gonna screw up," grumbled Yana Kost from 27,000 feet. As Nehalem Four, Yana was the only female in my flight. We could talk about things that I didn't like to converse with the boys about. As a bonus, she didn't show off like they did and she could fly just as well, so I was happy to have her.
"Well, let's try it. Activate the composite radar nexus," I said, pushing the button in my own cockpit.
The radar display winked out… and didn't come back on.
"Damn it, Ivanov, I've got nothing," Kai growled as we all reached to shut it off again.
"Same here," Ivanov responded. "Looks like we'll have to rely on our own radars. AWACS, speaking of radars, do we have any information on the aircraft type? The signature is awfully faint."
"We suspect they may be partially stealth. The signature would suggest something about the size of an F-16 with stealth features," Overlook replied.
"Damn. Stealth? Benika certainly has made some leaps and bounds in the last few years," I sighed. "Kai, do you want to make the surrender speech or shall I?"
"Aw, hell, I don't care. You do it. Your voice sounds more official," he replied.
"All right, here, goes," I said, fiddling with the dial. "Transmitting on all frequencies. I repeat, transmitting on all frequencies. Unidentified aircraft, you are in Labran airspace. Adjust your heading to 090 and exit our airspace immediately, or you will be fired on. You have fifteen seconds to comply."
"Nice one," Yana said appreciatively. "I have all four in my HMS. Evans and I are five thousand feet above and a good thirty miles back. Ready to engage with medium-range radar-guided missiles."
"Good, Three," I replied. "Ivanov, Liarh, and I are pulling alongside them. Switch to infrared missiles."
"Holy shit," murmured Gabriel Liarh as we drew near the unknown fighters, illuminated by a full moon. "These are new."
"Are they… drones?" asked Ivanov tentatively as we gazed at the Benikan intruders. They had violently forward-swept wings, a single rectangular engine outlet, twin tails, and no visible canopy anywhere on their dark-brown bodies.
"They haven't responded, whatever they are," I said. "Unidentified aircraft, your fifteen seconds are up. We are engaging." And then, "Liarh, Ivanov, break. Kost, Evans, fire."
Kost and Evans fired their infrared missiles- and the bandits split.
There was really no other way to describe it- they peeled out of formation so quickly you almost didn't see them go. The six of them were all over the sky in no time at all, and it was the rush of adrenaline that slammed all my thoughts to the side and leaped down my arms to the controls and sent my Su-33 shooting after one of them.
If they weren't drones, they might as well have been- their agility and the precision of their maneuvers spoke of either highly trained pilots or a very advanced A.I. Benika had been busy in the decade since the last war.
EEEEEEEEP, screeched my fire control computer. The heat-seekers in my wingtip missiles, working in conjunction with the sights in my helmet, had acquired a lock on the bandit.
"Fox Two! Fox Two!" I shouted out as I let fly with two R-73 missiles. The agile Archer missiles parted from my aircraft in blast of white smoke and rocket flame, and I grinned as the unknown plane attempted to evade frantically. But there was next to no evading an Archer, and soon one missile rammed up the aircraft's left exhaust nozzle and detonated. It lit up the night sky with a bright orange explosion as the other missile detonated as well, leaving the aircraft without any engines but structurally intact. But it promptly nosed down, heading straight for the ocean and slamming into it with a tremendous geyser of water some seconds later.
My stomach did a bit of a flip. That was a purposeful maneuver. I hope these things aren't manned, or we're dealing with some seriously fanatic pilots…
"Nehalem One, target destroyed," Overlook replied. "Nehalem Three, Four, good kills."
"Mallard! Help!" shouted Evans. "I've got two locked onto me!"
And then, "Jean, I need assistance! I can't maneuver like this thing!" shouted Ivanov.
"Shit," I growled. "Liarh, help Ivanov. Evans, Kost and I are coming."
"Roger," Evans said, sounding panicky. I looked up and to the right- there he was, at two o'clock high, Evans, evading a missile- What? He got hit?
"I'm hit!" he shouted, as his Su-27 began to trail thick black smoke. I slammed my throttle to the firewall, but it was no use- I wasn't going to close the gap in time. My jaw went slack as tracer rounds sparked through the sky to pepper Evans, whose jet was on fire and about to break up.
"Nehalem Five, eject now!" I roared. The ejection seat blasted out of the cockpit just the Su-27 broke in two at the leading edge of the wing, the halves falling to earth. The tracer rounds weren't stopping, though.
"Shit, they're still trying to target Evans!" I yelled. "Three, have you finished off that other bogey?"
"Just did," Gabriel said triumphantly as an explosion lit up my cockpit from behind. "I'm on my way. Stay cool, Evans, we won't let 'em have you, all right?"
No response from Evans. "Kost, have you got Five's chute?"
"Roger," she said. "Now we have to keep him safe. I'll take the one at your eight o'clock."
"Got it," I said, engaging the other fighter.
Somewhere in there, I stopped recollecting what was happening. My motions were robotic as I destroyed the other fighter without much thinking about what I was doing. That should have killed me, but the other fighter wasn't as agile as the first I had engaged, leading me further to believe they were manned.
Which means that pilot nose-dived into the ocean without ejecting to destroy himself and his airframe. I'd really like to know what the hell this all means…
"This is Nehalem, we've destroyed all the bandits," I heard myself say.
"Roger that, Nehalem. We have an SAR chopper on the way out for Evans. ETA twenty minutes," AWACS reported.
"Hurry the damn thing up," I grumbled. "Kid doesn't need to be freezing his ass off for a second longer than he has to."
To Be Continued.