For a good chunk of the war, CVW-10 had been put on the forefront of the war effort, attacking ground and sea targets up and down the Ceres Ocean. While much of the carrier air wing had been wiped out in the early stages of the war, CVW-10 had been replenished to operational capacity quickly and now they were once more on the forefront of the war effort. This time however, they were serving in an air to air role as opposed to the primarily air to surface and strike mission the air wing had previously been serving.
"Big Bird, Owl Hunter. Pop up group, eight bandits assume MiG-35s. Head 220 for 390 at thirty thousand feet to intercept."
"Big Bird copies all, outbound at 220, 390 Angels 30 at burner to intercept." Swordsman answered the call. Once more the Rhino pilot was back in the fight, leading a refreshed twelve aircraft strong VFA-206. Never mind that the majority of the squadron was made up of Lieutenant Junior Grades, or that Swordsman and Hardy were now the only pre-war aviators still with the squadron. They had the numbers. For now.
The mission assigned to the OFS Kestrel and CVW-10 was simple in theory, denying Yuktobanian airspace to the Yuktobanians. While the air wing had been replenished and could field a full strength force of seventy F/A-18Es, F/A-18Fs and E/A-18Gs, known Yuke Air Force commitments to the Kestrel's area of operations put their numbers at somewhere between two hundred to three hundred aircraft of various types and that didn't factor in the possibility of reinforcements from adjacent AOs.
Pushing the knowledge that they were outnumbered in the middle of enemy territory to the back of his head, Swordsman and the Snowbirds pushed on towards the oncoming Fulcrums. Initially the squadron of MiG-35s was flying directly south and away from the Snowbirds, but now they were heading right towards the Rhino squadron, presumably directed by a Yuktobanian AWACS flying inland. Swordsman could see the targets on his datalink display, but it took an extra minute of flight before the Fulcrums appeared at the edge of his radar range, about two hundred klicks out.
"All fighters on my left, flank left relative to Fulcrums. All fighters on my right, follow me and flank right." Swordsman issued orders to the squadron. Six of their number, including Hardy, split away from Swordsman's half and banked away to go for the flank shot. Swordsman's element of six banked in the opposite direction, aiming to divide the Fulcrum formation. Curiously, instead of dividing their forces equally towards each Osean element, the Yuktobanian squadron climbed and headed towards Swordsman's element. With the Oseans climbing to meet the Yukes, the two sides closed to within a hundred klicks.
"All Big Bird callsigns, clear to engage." Swordsman declared, locking up two bandits on his radar and firing. "Big Bird 101, Fox 3, Fox 3."
"103, fox 3!"
"104, fox 3, fox 3."
"106, fox 3, fox 3!"
The right element got a volley of AMRAAMs off. Swordsman started cranking out to the side, making himself a harder target for missiles to track while still allowing his own missiles the full guidance from his Rhino's radar. Seemingly undeterred, the Fulcrums pushed on, closing the distance before firing back. Swordsman heard a beeping tone in his headset indicating a radar lock before a rapid beeping tone indicated a missile launch warning. Aware that the performance of the Yuktobanian R-77 suffered at the edge of its maximum range, Swordsman was confident maintaining his current speed and heading as he continued to provide mid range guidance for the AMRAAMs he had fired.
"Big Bird 102, fox 3."
"Big Bird 105, fox 3!"
"107, fox 3."
The other element had closed the distance on the Fulcrums from their flank and were now firing on them. At this point the MiG-35s decided to fly defensively and evade, turning away and diving down into thicker air. Presuming that the Fulcrums were popping chaff and assuming that after a few seconds of extra flight that he was out of the search cone radius of the incoming R-77s, Swordsman turned head on towards the Fulcrums and gave chase. There was no need. The initial volley of missiles caught up, undeterred by countermeasures and defensive flying, and hit their targets. Four Fulcrums were swatted out of the skies almost all at once. A few seconds later, one additional Fulcrum caught a missile and disappeared from radar.
"Big Bird, splash five." Swordsman called up to their AWACS, continuing to press the offensive and run the survivors down.
"Big Bird 101, Owl Hunter, BRAA, six bandits. 313 for 435, Angels 60, inbound hot and fast." Owl Hunter alerted Swordsman - and by extension VFA-206 - of a group of new hostile fighters. The fact that they were sixty thousand feet high got Swordsman's attention. As the last three MiG-35s were splashed, six individual numbers appeared on RWR. 31. MiG-31 Foxhounds.
"Oh, hell to the fuck no." Hardy quipped. Everybody was aware of the Foxhound's reputation as a long reaching and hard hitting interceptor. Their Zaslon-M radars massively outranged the Super Hornet's APG-79 and both of their premiere air to air missiles, the R-33 and the newer R-37, outranged their AIM-120Cs. Swordsman looked around for the Headhunters. Two of their Growlers were in the vicinity about two hundred kilometres to their south-east.
"Freakshow, Swordsman, I've got six Foxhounds pushing my position. Able to give us a hand?" Swordsman called for support from the Scouts, the E/A-18G flying members of the Kestrel's air wing.
"Yeah, can do." Freakshow replied. "Come to me, we'll play the music."
"Roger, wilco. Big Birds, turn heading 130!" Swordsman instructed. The twelve Rhinos turned tail away from the Foxhounds, lit their burners and ran like hell. As far as fighter aircraft went, F/A-18Es and Fs were fairly slow while fully loaded, barely able to break Mach 1 in level flight at altitude. On the other hand, the MiG-31 could hit Mach 3 in similar circumstances. With the six Foxhounds beelining for the Rhinos, the latter couldn't run away or pick the circumstances of their engagement.
"Scout 501, the music is live and it is loud. In the Halloween spirit, today's track is Spooky Scary Skeletons. Rattle 'em, boys!" Freakshow and his Growler accomplice, Scout 505, set the mood as they initiated their jammers, blinding the still-approaching Foxhounds.
That was good enough for Swordsman. "Big Birds, head on!"
With electronic warfare support at their backs, the twelve F/A-18Es pulled a one eighty degree turn and charged down the enemy, now only two hundred kilometres away. Now blinder than a bat, the Foxhounds turned around in an effort to disengage, but given the sheer size and weight of the aircraft, by the time they were actually pointing away from the Oseans, the distance had been closed to ninety kilometres and the latter had started firing.
"Big Bird 101, fox 3!"
"Big Bird 105, Fox 3!"
"103, Fox 3."
All twelve Rhinos fired one AMRAAM each at the retreating Foxhounds. The AMRAAMs were fast, Mach 4 fast, but they only had ten seconds of burn time to hit that speed before lofting the rest of the way. Already pushing the edge of their effective engagement range, it'd take the missiles a bit over a minute to cross that distance, and it was anybody's guess if they'd have the juice to account for the movement of the Foxhounds.
"Owl Hunter, Big Bird 101, we've got the Foxhounds on the run. We are not pursuing at this time, over." Swordsman made a report to the overhead AWACS.
"Owl Hunter, copy all. Scout 501, Scout 505, form up with the Big Birds. Big Bird 101, proceed heading 030 for 200, Angels 35, to intercept four bandits." Owl Hunter gave them a new tasking.
"Roger, Big Bird callsigns outbound 030 to intercept." Swordsman replied. Now towing along two of Scout's Growlers, the fourteen strong group travelled north-north-east to meet a third smaller group of fighters. Judging by what the RWR was indicating, four MiG-35s, crossing their noses in about two minutes. Travelling at supersonic speeds, the Rhinos and Growlers closed to within weapons range five minutes later. In that timeframe, Swordsman noticed two things. One, one of the six Foxhounds had disappeared. Two, the Fulcrums had turned in towards the Oseans, but with their radars being blinded they were helpless against an enemy that outnumbered them three to one.
"Big Bird 102, Fox 3."
Given that there were only four bandits, Swordsman let his squadron do the handiwork. Six of the twelve strong squadron let off AMRAAMs at the approaching Fulcrums. Like the Foxhounds before them, the Fulcrums turned tail and ran, but unlike the Foxhounds they didn't have the Mach 3 plus speed to disengage at will. Almost all at once, all four Fulcrums disappeared from every sensor that Swordsman had.
"Big Birds, splash four." Swordsman made the kill call.
"Lead, 102, check fuel." Big Bird 102, Swordsman's new XO, spoke up about the squadron's collective fuel state. He looked down at his fuel gauge. He cursed quietly. Of the fourteen hundred pounds of fuel that the Super Hornet could carry internally, Swordsman's gauge read a mere four thousand pounds. That gave the squadron just enough fuel to get back to the Kestrel, orbit the carrier and land. They didn't have a native tanker squadron within the air wing and other in flight refuelling assets were insufficient to meet the fuel needs of the entire squad.
"Owl Hunter, Big Bird 101, we are bingo fuel, I say again, bingo fuel." Swordsman reported this fact to the AWACS.
"Copy, Swordsman. Turn heading 113 for 300 for the carrier." Owl Hunter cleared VFA-206 to return to the Kestrel. While he didn't technically need the bearing and distance for the carrier seeing as he had all that information available via datalink, Swordsman appreciated the gesture nevertheless. He and every aircraft under his command turned north-east towards the Kestrel.
"Swordsman, we're staying in the field." VAQ-139 squad leader Freakshow told Swordsman. "Good luck."
"Save some meat for us, will ya?" Swordsman jested with Freakshow.
"I make no promises." Freakshow retorted.
Swordsman scoffed. "Roger. We'll be back."
The flight back to the carrier itself was uneventful, but listening to the radio, it was clear that the Big Birds were lucky to come out of the first phase of the operation unscathed. The other three fighter squadrons were contesting the skies against increasingly superior numbers of MiG-31s, MiG-35s and Su-27s. Even the Scouts were getting in on the action. Swordsman heard Freakshow, Scout 501, and Woodstock, Scout 503, rattle off missile launch brevity codes. From what he could piece together, the other squadrons had collectively lost ten aircraft all up. With the Big Birds withdrawing to the carrier to refuel, that left thirty Rhinos still in the air.
From a distance the recovery cycle to get twelve aircraft on the deck seemed chaotic, but there was a method to the madness, and the flight deck crew were rotating aircraft with absolute confidence, efficiency and precision. A Rhino would catch a wire, be cycled through to the rearmament and refuelling post and thirty seconds later another Rhino would land and the process would start all over again. As the first pilot of VFA-206 to take off at the beginning of the operation, Swordsman was the last to land, catching a perfect third wire and being directed to rearm and refuel. In ten minutes, all twelve aircraft had been recovered, refuelled, rearmed and were being sent out again. The squadron reunited at fifteen thousand feet above the carrier.
"Owl Hunter, Big Bird 101, airborne and available for tasking." Swordsman made Owl Hunter aware that the squadron was up in the air and could go wherever they were needed.
"Big Bird, proceed heading 245!" Owl Hunter immediately tasked the squadron. "350 at Angels 30, twenty bandits inbound hot!"
Twenty bandits was a bit of a mindfuck for Swordsman, but he pushed on regardless.
"Roger, Big Birds outbound 245 at burner for 350 to intercept." Swordsman cracked his neck, lit his afterburners and pitched up. "Hit it, Snowbirds!"
Most likely directed by an AWACS, the horde of enemy aircraft turned towards the Rhinos and lit up their radars. Swordsman's RWR went mad with activity, twenty aircraft in the area being marked by the numbers 27 on the radar warning receiver display. He tensed up. Although the baseline Su-27 was an old aircraft by modern standards and inferior in most aspects to the Su-35, being an R-77 carrier, it was nothing to laugh at.
"Alright." Swordsman grit his teeth. "Head on, fire as you bear."
The two parties were now on a collision course, two hundred kilometres away with a Mach 2 close rate. Swordsman picked them up on his own radar at about one hundred and fifty. At one hundred and ten, the Flankers started locking them up, but by that point the Rhinos were within weapon employment range.
"Big Birds, open fire!" Swordsman declared. "Big Bird 101, Fox 3, Fox 3!"
"Big Bird 102, Fox 3, Fox 3."
"103, Fox 3!"
"Big Bird 104, Fox 3, Fox 3!"
"Big Bird 105, Fox 3."
"Big Bird 106, Fox 3, Fox 3!"
"Big Bird 107, Fox 3."
With over a hundred missiles between all twelve aircraft, Snowbird Squadron volley fired a collective twenty four AMRAAMs towards the Flankers. Swordsman pushed forward for another ten kilometres before the Flankers returned fire, putting what must have been at least twenty or thirty R-77s into the air. Swordsman and the rest of the squadron started cranking out either south-west or north-west and dived. Swordsman himself broke low and right, to the north-west. He hit a button and chaff canisters were shit out of the aft end of the Rhino. This broke the radar lock of whichever Flanker was targeting him. Clear for the moment, Swordsman turned back in towards the Flanker horde. At seventy klicks he fired a second volley of two AMRAAMs.
"Big Bird 101, Fox 3, Fox 3!" Swordsman rattled off, this time cranking off to the south-west and watching his altimeter as he dropped from twenty thousand to fifteen thousand feet. He noticed that the majority of the squadron was lagging behind, still cranking or notching against incoming missiles. There was one exception, Big Bird 105, Hardy. The junior aviator was ten klicks off to Swordsman's north, about the same level.
"Hardy, join on me and keep pushing." Swordsman instructed the LTJG.
"Wilco, lead." Hardy replied, tracking over towards Swordsman and joining on his wing. The two shot forward, aggressively pushing the Yukes. Listening to the radio, things were going less than ideal for the rest of the squadron.
"102, punching out!"
"Mayday, mayday, mayday!"
"Shit, Mace has no chute!"
On the upside, of the twenty Flankers, ten of them had gone down to their AMRAAMs. On the downside, five of their twelve Rhinos had gone down to the enemy R-77s, a much more impactful loss on their numbers. Nevertheless, they pushed on. Swordsman locked a row of four evasive Flankers and fired at fifty klicks.
"Big Bird 101, Fox 3, Fox 3!"
"Big Bird 105, Fox 3!"
"108, Fox 3, Fox 3!"
Swordsman had planned on aggressively pushing the Yukes in a head on fight, but the Yukes putting out a new wave of missiles in response to the Oseans forced him to change up his plans. Swordsman cranked forward for five klicks before deciding to cut his losses and notch out south, putting the incoming missiles off to his right wing while popping enough chaff to make it look like there was a fucking bomber in the sky.
With Hardy doing his best to remain within covering distance of his squad lead, Swordsman kept flying until he broke the radar lock of the Flankers, turning back in and letting off a missile at a Flanker that had broken away from the rest of its squadron to attack him. In turn he was forced to go defensive, rolling over and forcing the Rhino down to the deck as an R-77 came towards him. This was a problem: while the AMRAAM was superior to the R-77 kinematically at long range, at short to medium range the R-77 took the cake for speed and manoeuvrability. Making good use out of his aircraft's remaining chaff canisters, Swordsman dove towards the deck. He pulled the stick into him at two thousand feet, levelling out at just over five hundred feet. He heard a faint wooshing sound that closer. Swordsman closed his eyes and prepared for the end.
There was a loud bang, a violent shake and an ear grating shrieking of metal as Swordsman started rolling out of control. There wasn't a moment of hesitation. The moment he lost control of the aircraft, Swordsman leant back, reached down and pulled the ejection handle. The canopy was thrown off, sucked into the slipstream and tossed away from the aircraft. A millisecond later the ejection seat fired. Swordsman felt himself lose an inch of height from the violent ejection of his seat. The wind buffeted him, damn near ripping the oxygen mask from his face. His parachute deployed and slowly but surely Swordsman dipped into the ocean.
As he glided downwards, Swordsman saw an aircraft approaching him from the west. The Flanker. That Flanker was promptly turned into a fireball and a lengthy black trail of smoke. A moment later, a Rhino flew overhead. It was Hardy.
"Eyes on a chute! Swordsman, you still with us?" Hardy asked over the radio.
"Alive and accounted for." Swordsman quipped back. "Don't worry about me, deal with those fucking Sukhois."
"Aye, sir." Hardy turned westwards, away from Swordsman, quickly disappearing beyond the horizon as he chased down the surviving Yukes. Swordsman hit the ocean surface. A liferaft automatically deployed from the side of the ejection seat, releasing Swordsman from the seat in the process. He swam over and climbed up into the relative safety of the raft. Once he verified that his emergency transponder beacon was running, Swordsman laid down and waited. There wasn't much else he could do anyway.