Roberts looked down at his fuel. Almost at Bingo. With every second, the fuel was getting lower. He needed to end this. Now.
"Pike 1, this battle has gone on long enough. Your fuel state has to be getting low. You know as well as I do that you can't keep up your dogfighting maneuvers forever. So I'm going to make this as quick as possible." He could hear the smirk through the com, and it only infuriated him more.
The warning system lit up again. White Death had a missile lock again. Roberts pulled back on the stick and the plane soared higher into the sky. The plane behind him reacted the same. Good. Now he corkscrewed up, hoping just to last a bit longer. The ringing of the missile warning continued.
Another noise rang in his ear. Stall warning. His airspeed was dropping fast. With the plane behind within its guns range, Roberts did the only thing he could.
He stalled the plane.
"Pike 1 you are cleared for landing."
"Copy that." Pike 1 began to prepare his plane for landing. Altitude, 1000, range to airport, 2 klicks. Wheels down, plane slightly angled up, gliding slowly down to the earth. The F-16 and pilot in tandem, together preparing to meet the ground again.
"1 klick," from the man over the radio. Lynx couldn't recognize the man's voice, somebody new in the tower. Have to focus in again, the distance closing in. The plane slows to a crawl, just barely able to hold itself in the air, the plane just barely off the ground.
Its wheels grab the ground, and the plane jumps. Every time it puts a little jump in his heart. The feel of the earth pulling against the plane, begging it to slow; the plane fighting to keep itself aloft, and him in the middle, trying to control the two. Too much Earth and the plane ends in a fireball: Too little and the plane never stops. So, it is always just right, perfection or nothing.
It slowed, now his rudder is the only control for the plane. He whipped it into the trafficking lane, and waited for his wingman to land. Every time he left the ground, he could feel a difference in himself. His soul lightens, feels lifted and free, his oasis in the clouds. But when he lands, he feels heavy; it seems with the gravity of the Earth pulling his soul back down again.
With lynx two down, they taxied to their spots on the side of the runway. Lynx 1 popped the canopy and jumped back onto earth. "Hey Sparrow," he said, turning to his wingman, "Debrief at 1600, get there on time, alright? I am not taking the rap for you again!"
"Captain Roberts, you know that the only reason I was late last time was because I had to explain the new guns on base for the ladies down in the mechanics lounge!" He flexed his arms and laughed.
"Yeah, and I seem to remember you coming to the debrief covered in grease! Not this time alright?" He laughed. His wingman, Captain Rick Ashton, was going to get those girls, and the two of them knew it. But the fun had always been in the battle for him, never the victory.
"Captain Roberts, Captain Ashton." The two turned to find a middle-aged man standing behind them. They both noticed the eagle and arrows of a Colonel on the man's shoulder and saluted, which was returned. Roberts noted the briefcase currently handcuffed to the man's hand.
"Colonel Sir, to what do we owe the pleasure?"
"The two of you are required in the operational briefing room at 1600 hours, your absence from your debrief has already been explained to your commanding officer." The Colonel remained expressionless as he spoke, but he still did not seem to enjoy being a messenger boy.
"May I enquire as to why the sudden change in orders, sir?" Roberts knew that command canceling a debrief meant that there was something larger than a normal military tribunal.
"No, Captain, you may not. Simply be on time in the operational briefing room at 1600. The both of you will have everything explained there. Also, your silence in this matter is requested." The seriousness in his voice showed through.
"Yes, sir," The two pilots saluted again, and the Lt. Col. hurriedly walked away. Roberts and Ashton watched him leave.
"Jeaz, what do you think that's about? We didn't do anything to warrant a briefing alone yet."
"I don't know. This isn't normal though. And to send a Lieutenant Colonel out to get us… Something must be happening." Roberts looked at his watch. 1400. He sighed. "Looks like we're going to have to hurry to get this gear off and get there on time."
The operations room was starkly quiet, despite the number of people in it. Roberts could see several other pilots, along with several Colonels and Majors sitting and waiting. Among the pilots, he could tell that nobody knew why they were there and that he didn't recognize some of them. On his way to seats, he noticed that they were from different squadrons around the country. He spotted patches from the 77th "Nightstalkers" and the 103rd "Cazadores."He and Ashton took their seats near the front of the room, next to two pilots from the 103rd.
Roberts quietly leans over to the other pilots. "You guys happen to hear why we are here? Nobody filled us in."
The pilots shake their heads. "Nothing. We were hoping that you guys might know something since you guys are stationed here."
"Have any ideas then?"
"Well we are the best pilots in our division, and so is every other pilot that we have talked to. So whatever we are doing here, they want the best. Covert operations maybe? Maybe were going to war."
"ATTENTION!" Everyone in the room stood, and came to attention. A small party of men came into the room, with a Major General leading the way. There was a bit of surprise among some of the men, Roberts could tell. Maybe this was bigger than he thought.
When the procession found their way to the front, the General addressed the group "At ease." The entire room sat. "Now gentlemen, I'm sure you all are wondering why you are here. Some of you may have pieced together that you men are the best of the best in each of your units, and that is true. You are the best pilots that our nation has to offer. So why are you all here?"
The lights were switched off and a slide appeared on the screen. It was a picture everyone in the room recognized. A giant rock centered on the screen, with several other rocks floating through space along with it. "This is the Ulysses One-Nine-Nine-Four XF04 Asteroid, discovered 4 years ago by the International Union of Astronomers. This morning we received news that the asteroid may be hollow on the inside. This has lead us to the conclusion that when the asteroid is hit by the FCU project known as the Stonehenge Turret Network, it may break into many smaller fragments, that would be difficult to stop with the turret system. The full force of Ulysses will not be felt, but instead Stonehenge may only be of little use."
A wave of terror flowed through the room. The men became restless, worried that the one thing the world had prayed would save them would suddenly become useless. The slide changed again, showing a projected casualty rate for their country. They were high, and an anxious rumble ran through the crowd. "Now," the General continued, "Three years ago, our Astronomers realized that the Asteroid will breach the Roche limit in one of its thicker segments. They projected that other meteors would be knocked out of their orbit and send them towards us at high speeds. These meteors would rain upon Strangereal, creating a global recession in the very least, or create what would be equivalent to a small-scale nuclear exchange. In response to this threat, we created 'Project Angels.'"
The slide changed again, now to what looked like a unit insignia. An Angel was throwing missiles at meteors in the sky. "Project Angels" scrolled on the top with "Uinci ab angelis caeli" below. Roberts tried to remember his Latin from college and decided it was "Their defeat by the angels of heaven."
"The goal of our project was to develop a way to protect ourselves from the meteor shower that would have been caused by that theory. However, now we are revamping this project in order to prepare for the possible large-scale meteor shower that would be caused by this break up. And so, we created: Peregrine."
A plane appeared behind him. Its sharpened lines seemed to cut through the screen and into the room. Its swept wings were short and thin, and angled slightly downward. Its cockpit melded seamlessly into the fuselage, creating a blended body that looked like it sliced the air. The two air intakes on the side of the body pumped air into what looked like three large but still aerodynamic jet engines.
The wings brimmed with weapon mounts. Roberts guessed that it would carry at least 16 missiles when it was fully loaded. The cannon that was mounted on the front of the plane stuck out just to the side of the cockpit. It appeared to be larger than most cannons equipped on fighter jets, but Roberts could not tell if it was, or if it was just the photo. If there was ever a plane that was designed to kill and do it quicker than anything else, this was it.
"This is the X-59F Peregrine, the fastest fighter plane ever created. In trials we managed to get her up to Mach 5.1 with afterburners, using a combination of a single turbofan and two Scramjet engines."
A surprised mumble rolled through the crowd. Ashton let out a low whistle, and Roberts could not blame him. Scramjets were the holy grail of fighter technology, allowing planes to fly faster and farther, using less fuel. However, until now, he couldn't think of anyone who ever successfully built a scramjet that would fly for very long. Not even Belka, the superpower of military tech, had built a scramjet system. If what they said was true, then this plane would revolutionize flight.
Another man stood up, and the general sat down. Judging from the lack of uniform, Roberts guessed he was a civilian designer, perhaps the lead designer. "The Peregrine is designed to operate at high speed and altitudes with ease. However, when flying at low speeds, we have designed forward canards that extend at the end of the nose, for more stability and maneuverability." The slide showed the canards partially extended.
Along with that, we developed a thrust vectoring system to maximize the roll and turn speed of the aircraft. These advancements create a machine that will out turn even the Yuktobonian SU-27 Flanker. However, the purpose of this aircraft is high-speed intercept. Using the new Laser Guided Air to Air Missile, along with the high speed provided by the scramjets, we believe that you should be able to intercept the large, slower moving debris that would be caused by the destruction of the larger asteroid, not to mention any large asteroids knocked toward earth from the Roche limit."
The general stood up again. "To put it simply boys, you boys will be flying the best damned plane in the land to destroy the biggest threats that we have ever faced. You will be saving the country."