"Metal 0-1 respond! Metal 0-1, can you hear me!? Dammit Malik, respond!" A voice yelled into Malik's ear. His head was pounding and his vision blurred, along with a sharp pain in his chest and shoulder. Unable to bring himself to even a sitting position, he tried to get a damage assessment on himself from his laid back position, and began recounting to himself how he got into this mess.
*20 minutes prior to incident*:
"Metal 0-1, tower. You are cleared for takeoff on runway two. Happy hunting." The tower watchman called out.
"Roger tower, Metal 0-1 is taking off." Malik replied as he turned back to face his co-pilot. "You ready in the back Mélissandre?"
"Roger that Malik, we are good to go." The female pilot replied with a thumbs up. Malik grinned, this was his fourth patrol sortie, but what kept the adrenaline going was always the thought that he had made it here, to this very position, inside a UGAF F-15E. He pushed the throttle forwards, slowly accelerating the engines. At around 250-330km/h, he gently pulled back on the stick and began ascending skywards, with almost no turbulence at all.
"Beautiful skies today, shame we are only flying linear today." Malik spoke over the radio to his co-pilot.
"Yes, a nice day indeed. But we needn't remind ourselves that we must put duty before pleasure." She replied, adjusting the computer screen ahead of her to display their current fuel and ammo state. "You of all people should know this."
"Ah, of course I know that. But it doesn't mean someone cant dream." He joked as he banked the aircraft and turned to put it in the proper direction to the first waypoint.
"Metal 0-1, air asset Phantom. Aren't you forgetting something?" A voice suddenly asked over the radio.
"Negative Phantom, I was just about to contact you." Malik replied. "All systems are good, weather is perfect, and no sign of anything to worry about at this time. Metal 0-1 is 8klicks to next waypoint, how copy?"
"Solid copy Metal. Just keep an eye out, we've had reports of enemy scout teams moving in and out of some of those areas, possible threat level yellow. Phantom out." The airtraffic controller concluded. Malik glanced around at the ground, while relying on his radar to keep an eye in the sky. When he was satisfied with his ground check, he then turn his attention back to the sky, relying on the sun being behind them to make the light reflect off of enemy planes and give away their positions. 2nd waypoint was reached without a problem, but then the tide changed.
"Metal 0-1, Phantom. Standby for mission update." The ATC called out.
"Roger, send traffic."
"Metal 0-1, we've got a flight of two unidentified aircraft on a vector towards a civilian flight inside friendly territory. We're sending you the coordinates for intercept, but being careful and keep us updated. Phantom out." The ATC continued. Malik quickly turned his aircraft to face the direction given to him, and sped the aircraft up.
"Mélissandre, contact the civilian flight and alert them of the possible threat. Once we get into intercept position, be ready to arm weapons." Malik ordered, his eyes scanning for the aerial threat.
"Roger that, contacting flight 797 now." She replied. "Flight 797, this is military flight Metal, we have received word that two unidentified aircraft are on a vector towards you. We are inbound to intercept, but be ready to flee should things go south."
"Uh... Copy that Metal, wait one."
...
"Roger Metal, we have the contacts on our scopes now. Wait... Metal, you said two contacts righ- Oh s**t! Evasive manoeuvres! Evasive manoeuvres now! Dammit Jensen, that was too close!" The first pilot began barking orders with the second one, sounds of screaming could be heard in the background.
"Dammit! Metal 0-1 to Phantom, contacts are hostile! Say again, hostile! Three enemies on scope, moving in to engage now!" Malik called out, speeding up the aircraft even more. "Mélissandre, arm Sidewinder A! We're going to hold them off until the civies can get out of here!"
"Roger, arming now! Standby, bogey at our twelve is breaking right!" She replied, arming the first Sidewinder. Malik pulled in hard, identifying the enemy planes to be Croakien MiG-29s and giving chase to the closest one. The MiG dived, flipping upside down and levelling out under where Malik's F-15 was. Malik did the same, but ended up lower then the MiG. This must have confused the pilot, because his plane stopped manoeuvring and instead began to serve from side to side, looking for Malik.
"Locking missile, standby... Missile locked. Firing!" Malik called out as he released the safety and pushed down on the fire button. The missile left the rail at quickly blazed towards the target. The missile closed in faster then the target could react, and lodged itself into the back of the MiG, exploding it into near unidentifiable chunks of metal. The cockpit of the MiG ripped itself off the remaining fuselage, and the pilot bailed out.
"Confirmed, splash on bandit." Mélissandre called out, confirming the kill. "Second and third targets are converging on our location! 797, now is your chance to escape!"
"Roger that, we're vacating the area! Thanks for the help Metal!" The civilian pilot replied as the aircraft banked due North. Malik brought the aircraft around and switch the selected armament to the rotary 20mm cannon. As the two MiG-29's entered the MCR (Maximum Cannon Range), Malik fired two sharp bursts. The first missed, the second took a good amount of rounds in the back ailerons. They over shot Malik's F-15, and began turning in to begin pursuing Malik. But as the second MiG began his turn, Malik noticed the lower right aileron of the MiG pause then shake violently before fully adjusting.
"Mélissandre, we're going after the second MiG, the one breaking hard right! Begin arming Sidewinder B!" Malik ordered as he brought the aircraft around to begin chasing the slower MiG. As he completed his turn, he narrowly missed the first MiG as it shot past just off his right.
"Maudit-!" Mélissandre yelled as the MiG shot past, jumping slightly. Malik remained focused on the target ahead, picking on the weakened prey. Slowly, the tracking box moved towards the defending MiG, the loud beeping sound pounding in Malik's ears. The enemy pilot was pretty good, even with a damaged plane, as he was still able to complete some manoeuvres using only the MiG-29's Gen.2 thrust vectoring. But even with that, he couldn't evade forever, and so Malik finally got a missile lock.
"Missile locked, firing! Confirm track..." He said over the radio, watching as the second missile left the wingtip pylon and sped towards the second target. The MiG pilot tried to evade by pulling back on the stick, apparent by the way all the flaps suddenly pointed up, but the one aileron that didn't function properly didn't budge. In fact, as the missile drew closer, it actually pointed down towards the earth and ripped off, causing both the MiG to bleed speed and Malik to dive low right as the missile hit the target. The MiG exploded in a giant fireball, and there was no sign of the pilot as the smoke cleared.
"Confirmed second bogey eliminated! Mélissandre, where's number three at?" Malik quickly asked as he levelled his aircraft out.
"Uh... Hold on." She replied. "Dammit, where did you go you piece of-"
"Phantom to Metal 0-1. Come in Metal 0-1. What is your current status?" A voice suddenly cut off Mélissandre's muttering.
"Phantom, we're engaged with enemy bogeys. Two have been eliminated, one remains. Civilian flight has vacated the combat zone, we are in pursuit of enemy aircraft. How copy?" Malik replied, his eyes scanning for the final threat.
"Metal 0-1, you need to leave that are-"
"BOGEY TWELVE'OCLOCK! HE'S GOT MISSILE LOCK!" Mélissandre suddenly called out. Malik was confused, but immediately broke hard left skywards and readied chaff. Why hadn't he heard the warning signals when the enemy aircraft was acquiring lock? As he looked back, he spotted the reason: Back during the merge, as he had fired at one of the MiG's with his cannon, another did the same to him, and score some hits on the rear sensors that relayed the data to the front pilot's seat. He cursed himself for not realizing this before. As he spotted the flash from the missile being fired, he deployed the chaff and dove low right, pulling a high-G flip and ending up level facing towards the oncoming MiG. He switched to his cannon, and was sure the the enemy did the same.
"Here goes nothing..." Malik muttered, and as they both entered MCR, began firing at each other. Rounds hit a pierced both aircraft, but it must have been their lucky day, because after about three seconds of fire, the enemy cockpit suddenly exploded in pieces. Pulling right, Malik dodged the enemy wreck and watched as it slowly fell towards earth.
"Splash final bandit." Malik called out, releasing a sigh of relief. He could hear his co-pilot breathing heavily. "Sorry for the high-G back there, should have warned you. This is your first real combat flight after all."
"No no, it's all right! I need the experience after all!" She replied. Malik smiled, then turned the aircraft around to return to base, checking the fuel state.
"Metal 0-1 to Phantom. All targets eliminated, we're RTB at this time." He called out over the radio. "Be advised, we're taking a direct route, not enough fuel for sight-seeing."
"Roger that Metal 0-1. Come on home." The operator replied, his voice hiding a slight tone of content. As Malik turned to place his plane on a direct vector to return home, he began to feel uneasy. He looked around, on the visible surfaces of his eagle, towards the ground, back into the air and repeated this again and again, but saw nothing unusual. He senses were usually never deceived him, but there was nothing around him that should have made him feel this way. Mélissandre noticed this, and began to worry.
"Umm.. What are you doing, Malik?" She asked uneasily. Malik stopped when he heard his co-pilot call out to him, and straightened himself.
"I don't know, something just... Just doesn't feel right." He replied. He stopped and looked dead ahead for a quick moment, then was interrupted by a flashing light that signalled a hail from another channel. He tuned the radio to the proper frequency, and signalled in.
"Metal 0-1, come in Metal 0-1." The voice called out.
"This is Metal 0-1, to who am I speaking with?" Malik replied.
"Metal 0-1, this is Siguard 1-3." The pilot on the other end of the line replied. "We just wanted to give you a heads up that we were tracking a flight of bogeys that passed through your sector. You wouldn't happen to have seen'em have you?"
"Actually, the three of them have all been dealt with."
"Uh... Three, sir?
"Yes sir, three bogeys." Malik continued, before pausing.
"You mean you only encountered three aircraft?"
"Roger, three MiG-29."
"Metal 0-1, standby. We may have a problem here. Request you wait one." The pilot concluded. But as the silence between transition cut and current time grew longer, Malik began to hear something. It was faint, definitely there. And it was getting louder.
"- Two. Three." It began, the voice sounding rather young and feminine.
"What the..?"
"Four. Five. Six."
"Mélissandre, find out where that transmission is coming from!"
"Seven. Eight. Nine."
"Metal 0-1, Siguard! Get out of there!"
"Ten."
All suddenly went quiet, not a sound from the radio, not a sound from his co-pilot, nothing. It was the type of silence that kept frontline soldiers up all night. Then, Malik's F-15 through it's tail up and front flipped, all controls dead as the aircraft spun uncontrollably. He growled as he fought with the controls, trying to stable the aircraft. Barely righting the aircraft, Malik knew there wasn't much time.
"Mélissandre, bail out now!" He ordered. "Metal 0-1 to Phantom, we've been critically damaged are are going down, forced to bail!"
"What about you?!" Mélissandre yelled to Malik.
"Right behind you! Now go!" He ordered as he held the aircraft stable using both the remaining flaps and sole surviving engine. As he watched the canopy blow off and Mélissandre bail out, he looked back to assess the damage, and saw that he had lost almost the entire back right side of his aircraft and half the wing. But as he began to pull on the ejection cords, nothing happened. Started pulling on the lower lever, no response. Upper lever, nothing. He began to panic at first, trying all in his power to deploy the ejection seat, but the result was always the same. And with each attempt, the ground grew closer and closer, and it was getting harder and hard to keep the plane somewhat straight. Finally, in a moment of acceptance and clarity, he remembered the emergency ejection device to his right, and quickly moved to activate it. He pulled back on it really hard, and nothing happened for a moment. Then, he shot up and out of the burning aircraft, only a couple hundred meters off the ground at least. His chute deployed without a hitch, and as he gazed around, he spotted his attacker: A Crokian J-20 stealth fighter with a black and red flame paintjob. He glared at it, then realized that it was actually coming right at him. Without no real means of fighting off this attacker now, the only thing he could do was sit there and accept fate. But as the J-20 was a couple meters away, it flew right past him, sending him plummeting much faster towards the ground near the wreck of his plane. As he hit the ground, he didn't recover from the fall fast enough, and struck his head against some nearby object, rendering him unconscious...
