"Eagle Leader, this is Command, report status. Over." The scratchy voice came through the headset of a pilot.
They were flying several hundred feet in the air, travelling at 1,875 miles per hour. The F-15 they piloted was old as far as active models went, most pilots preferring an F-76.
"Command, this is Eagle Leader." Their voice was cut through by the respirator they had to wear at such an altitude. "Airspace is clear, and there are no apparent ground threats, I say ten-thirty-eight. Over."
"Good job Eagle Squadron. Head back to the airfield. Ten-Nineteen. Over."
"Ten-four. Over and out." Switching channels, he contacted the rest of his squadron.
"Okay everyone, you heard the man. Bank left and head back."
"Roger that"
"You got it."
"Roger." Several voices replied, and slowly all the jets began to tilt left, following a gentle curve.
"Uh, Soarin, I'm picking something up on radar," one of the pilots transmitted part way through the turn.
"There aren't supposed to be any other patrols out here. Misty Fly, are you sure?"
"Yes, and it's closing fast. Really fast."
"I'm getting it too!" another pilot responded.
"Can confirm, there is a target in the airspace, bearing four-three-zero," the last pilot said. "It's closing rapidly."
"Everyone, hard left!" Soarin commanded. Everyone followed the order immediately. The last thing they wanted was for the bogey to end up behind them. Soarin's radar began to ping as well. And it was definitely moving fast, faster than any jet they knew about.
"Arm twenty-millimeters. It's just one aircraft," he added. "This shouldn't be an issue for the Wonderbolts." The Wonderbolts were renowned fighter pilots. Only the best and brightest pilots got in. The ones that could take on three jets alone and win. In fact, the qualifying test for all pilots depicted just such a scenario. It was designed to be nearly unwinnable, and passing it depended on how well they dealt with the seemingly impossible situation before crashing.
"Ten-four, Soarin,"he heard the voice of Misty Fly say. He switched channels again.
"Command, this is Eagle Leader."
"Ten-two Eagle Leader."
"Reporting one bogey in the air. I repeat, one bogey. It is moving abnormally fast."
"Ten-four, Eagle Leader. Dispatch the bogey and return to airfield."
"Ten-four Command." Soarin switched the channel back. The enemy aircraft was only five-hundred meters away. "Everyone ready, fire at will!"
"I see them, engaging!" one of the pilots spoke over comms. The buzzing sound of the fighter's weapons could be heard, barely, over the air screaming past the other pilots' cockpit. "Several hits, they have been hit." they said. "They are staying on course. They… they aren't- gah!" The pilot's scream was cut off as a ball of fire engulfed the jet to Soarin's left. A black streak screamed past the inferno, the craft was only a blur, it's speed making it's form indiscernible.
"Damn! This craft is very dangerous! Come around to face the bogey!" Soarin transmitted to the remaining two pilots. Mid way through the turn, one of the pilots transmitted.
"I see it! It's… it's coming this way!"
"What? How did it turn that fast?" Misty Fly said, confusion and fear beginning to run errant in her voice.
"Stay focused!" Soarin said. "Arm heatseekers."
"Ten-four," Misty Fly responded, while the other pilot's comms were silent.
"Eagle Three, respond! I repeat, Eagle Three, respond, ten-sixteen!" Soarin tried to contact the pilot, when he suddenly noticed that Eagle Three was losing altitude at a steady rate. In the cockpit, he saw nothing, the glass stained red. The engines cut, and as the jet tilted back, he saw it. A bullet hole, a single shot that had pierced the reinforced glass. Soarin quickly flipped the comms channel.
"Command, this is Eagle Leader, come in, over!"
"Ten-one Eagle Leader. Poor transmission. Over."
"Command, dangerous bogey in the air, ten-thirty! Request immediate support, ten-thirty-three, repeat, ten-thirty-three! Over!"
"Ten-four Eagle Leader. Scrambling fighters. Support enroute, ten-seventeen. Over and out." Meanwhile, the strange craft had passed by again, forsaking another attack after the hit on Eagle Three. Soarin flicked the comms channel again, immediately relaying orders to the remaining pilot.
"Misty, drop altitude and bank left to bearing two-seven-two. Support is on the way."
"Understood Soarin." They had flown together for years, and had known each other for decades before. She trusted him with her life. Soarin just hoped she hadn't trusted the wrong person. They had been flying safely for several minutes when something drew Soarin to his radar. Soarin looked, trying to figure out what it was. It was blank, and suddenly it hit him. The ping had disappeared.
"Misty Fly, I think I have a radar malfunction. Transmit bogey position."
"Uh… Soarin, I'm not picking it up either." she responded.
"How did it leave the airspace so fast?" Soarin asked. It had taken several minutes more for it to reach engagement range. He hadn't expected an answer. Yet he got one, just not in the way he wanted.
His jet rocked, and when he looked back he saw something he thought he'd never see. A trail of fire followed his right wing, his fuel tank punctured, the sparks lighting it like an infinite fuse. He made out a black jet, with an odd design. It's front wings were inverted, facing forward. The horizontal stabilizers were angled upward, with a pair mirroring them on the bottom. It had no vertical stabilizer, instead there were small rudders, like a fish's fin, on each of the other stabilizers. All of this Soarin noted before it was past him. He quickly turned his gaze forward.
"This is Hornet Leader. Eagle Squadron, come in, over," a voice crackled through the radio. Soarin opened comms.
"Hornet Leader, this is Eagle Leader. Be advised, single bogey with anti-radar and powerful engines. I repeat, the bogey is invisible to radar and very fast. Over."
"Understood Eagle Leader. We see the target and are engaging now. Over." After a few second's silence, Hornet Leader transmitted again. "The bogey is down. I repeat, confirm one kill on enemy fighter. Over."
"Hornet Leader, I am hit and I am leaking burning fuel. I need-" he suddenly lost control of his craft as an explosion rocked the back of his craft. He started to go into a nosedive. He tried to pull his stick back, but his control's wouldn't respond. He looked back, and saw that the entire back of his craft was gone. He had gotten lucky, but not enough so.
"Mayday, mayday! I am going down! My backside is gone, I can't control it, Mayday, mayday!"
"Eagle Leader, you are headed for Iron Federation territory!"
"I can't bank! I have no choice!"
"Eagle Leader… Transmit location on touchdown. We'll make sure you're found." The unspoken message between them was clear. It wasn't a matter of being found, it was a matter of if there was anything left to find.
"If I don't make it… it's been an honor serving the Red Eagle Alliance."
"Ten-four, Eagle Leader."