by R. E. Fisher
As he closed on the enemy aircraft, he activated his weapons systems.
“Laz, he’s going weapons hot! He’s got weapons lock!”
“Damn, how can he get a lock? He’s still over a hundred miles out!”
“I don’t know, but you better figure out how to get us out of here! I’m pretty sure if he can get a weapons lock at that distance, he can fire from there!”
“Send the satellite code! We’re breaking off and coming back in! This is a recon plane, not a fighter! We ain’t equipped to deal with this shit!”
Dmitri closed the distance to less than thirty miles, and in an arrogant display, he fired a cannon burst over the top of their aircraft. The energy released in the burst from his aircraft’s laser cannon caused a momentary decrease in his own power plant, but he was accustomed to it. It was a consequence of the weapons design that had been discovered while they were testing the plane. Unless they could further increase the size of the power plant, it was something he was told he was going to have to deal with each time he went into combat. It had been his job to develop operational attack plans that would compensate for it. The bright flashes of white-hot energy zipped over the top of the Blackwing’s canopies, startling both of its occupants.
“Christ! How did they get the dispersal wave to maintain its integrity for that distance? Did you get it on camera?”
“Yeah, it’s already sent. That’ll wake those bastards up in Washington!” Ollie replied. “Dude, you’ve got to get us out of here! We’re outclassed here!”
“Don’t I know it! Hang on; were going full throttle!” Laz said.
Laz increased power and the stasis field drew much of it to decrease the atmospheric friction. The craft increased speed to Mach 10.2.
Dmitri watched as his opponent leapt forward and he realized that the intelligence services had been wrong again while noting their speed. He increased power as well and closed the last thirty miles in just a little over one minute. To show the Americans how outclassed they were, he shot past them, watching his monitors as he slid past their aircraft. Laz took the brief opportunity to immediately change course. Dmitri cursed himself for his arrogant display. He was already three miles past the Americans before he could correct his course to intercept. He still had trouble accepting the weightlessness of the stasis field as it compensated for the tremendous g-forces the craft would otherwise have exacted on his body as it maneuvered, reacting a bit too slowly with his course adjustment.
Laz piloted a course toward the American coastline, specifically the Florida coast. The Air Force bases could provide intercept fighters. He was hoping flight operations had read their ops brief. His hopes rose as MacDill Air Force Base went into action, launching two squadrons of F-22As.
Dmitri finished adjusting his flight course and found that he now trailed his prey by more than twenty miles. His radar showed that his enemy was making a break back toward the American coastline. They had moved out over the central Gulf of Mexico and adjusted their course toward the eastern portion of the gulf. Good, he thought. It would take them somewhat closer to Cuba, where there were conventional forces marshaling. Damn, that dinosaur of a president might even launch some old MIGs. Well, if any of those idiots got in his way, he would take them out as well. Nothing was going to stand in the way of finishing what he had started.
Laz watched his heads-up display, wondering why the Russian hadn’t fired again. He quickly wished he hadn’t thought that. Ollie advised him that the RSS craft had once again obtained weapons lock and was prepared to fire. As Laz shifted the aircraft, the plasma discharge passed to the right.
“Laz! His plane slowed! His plane slowed right after he fired!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
“Great! Now all we have to do now is allow him to shoot at us until he falls out of the sky!” he said.
“No! We should get someplace so that he has to fire the weapon to protect himself! How long until we rendezvous with the intercept planes out of MacDill?”
Ollie didn’t like the idea of sacrificing fellow pilots to allow them time to escape, but he knew they had to get that plane back safely. It was currently the only one of its kind. The other wouldn’t be ready for a few more months, which was too long for what the NSA suspected was happening in Cuba as well as with the rest of the Latin American pact. Most people failed to realize how long it took to re-task satellites to gather information, and they were predictable.
“Seven minutes.”
Dmitri kept pace, but the constant course corrections he was being forced to make didn’t allow him to obtain another chance to fire. He discovered that although his aircraft was faster when climbing, the American craft could dive much faster than his Dragon Fox. He realized this the first time they had both dropped from the sky. What he hadn’t yet realized was that when he put his aircraft into a dive, his loss of speed was because his inertial dampening field was pulling too much energy from the power plant. He would like to meet the engineers who had designed their stasis field.
Both planes were closing in on the Florida coastline. Unlike his earlier counterparts, Dmitri had access to open radio frequencies, and he utilized them to contact the Defense Alert Command in Cuba. Within minutes there were 12 Foxbats in the air.
“How far out are we?”
“You want the good news or the bad news first?” Ollie muttered.
“Gimme the good news,” Laz replied.
“Eleven minutes to the western Florida coastline. Four until the Raptors are able to provide cover. We’ve also got eight Lightnings coming in from the Kennedy carrier group. They’re crossing Miami as we speak.”
“All right; what’s the bad news?”
“Comrade Castro launched a dozen Foxbats, and they’ll be intercepting the Lightnings before they can join us.”
“Great. This is gonna be close, Ollie. I’ve got the power plant planed out, and we’re not going to get any freebies here. If I can’t keep this bastard from getting a lock on us, we’re dead.”
“Do you have to be so positive all the time?” Ollie responded.
Dmitri looked at his HUD and watched the fighters coming out of MacDill, wondering where the YF-35s that the Cubans were now engaging had come from. He wondered if the American government had a carrier force somewhere that they weren’t aware of. F-35Cs were currently the U.S. Navy’s choice for their carrier groups. He dismissed the idea of notifying his headquarters about the naval air group, figuring that the Cubans would pass this bit of information along. He continued fighting to gain an advantage over the Americans. The more he battled to achieve that, the more he realized how good his opponent was. It was almost as if the Yank could “feel” what he was going to do next. If he didn’t do something soon, the bastards were going to get away. His craft might be the best, but even it couldn’t hold off twenty or so F-22As and F-35Cs and their multiple air-to-air missiles if he didn't have the room to run.
“Obi One, this is Raptor One closing on your position. Be advised we’ve got you on IR and visual. On station in two mikes.”
Normally Ollie would chuckle at the call sign, but he was preoccupied with thoughts of survival and escape. He activated the electronic countermeasures in case the bogie was armed with missiles. Still, he double-checked to ensure that he had. He doubted that it was unconventionally armed, but protocol required it. He also activated the frequency-jamming devices.
Dmitri overheard the American cross talk and assessed the situation. Undeterred but now concerned, he watched as his radar began picking up the numerous aircraft that had blown through the MIGs Cuba had launched. He ran his weapons system up to full power. He knew that diverting the power to the weapons system was going to lessen the plane’s speed by more than fifteen percent. He determined that he didn’t have much of a choice, since he was in it for a fight. He watched his heads-up display as his primary target slipped between five F-22As.
He moved his head to view his target, and as the cannon a
ligned with the target and locked onto it, he squeezed the trigger. The cannon let loose a volley of electrons, which pulsed at a rate 500 times faster than that of a mini-gun. The plane disappeared in a blue-green plume, followed by a tremendous explosion that also took out the aircraft’s wingman. Examining the positions of the three remaining F-22As, he decided that banking around them would delay his interception of the recon plane. He shut down power to the weapon and increased his airspeed. He then climbed above the enemy planes, shooting up 7,000 feet in a matter of mere seconds, causing quite a few pilots to give thanks that he wasn’t pursuing them. They turned to follow and try to intercept the hostile anyway.
“Ollie, he’s not closing on us. He’s chasing, but not closing. Why? Figure out why!”
“As far as I can tell, his weapons system changed over to some type of a rapid-firing electron-cannon. That’s got to be draining his power plant.”
“If so, then we can maintain this distance unless he shuts down his weapons system.”
“OK, let’s say he does; what do we do then?”
“We’ll have to engage him, so let’s see if we can set him up for it! ‘Cause you know he’s going to shut it down until he catches up.”
Dmitri looked at the power indicator on his HUD, then to his radar display; he noticed that he had six more bogies between him and the Blackwing. He moved his stick forward and dropped 3,300 feet in only a few seconds; he then banked north, moving toward the closest of the F-22As. He cut in his weapons power and adjusted his weapons system to directed-beam mode. While his radar kept a target lock on the three incoming aircraft, he fired. Three white-hot beams of condensed energy sliced through their wings and fuselage; one intense beam ignited the aircraft’s hydrazine fuel. A pilot known as Donut didn’t even get a chance to eject before his aircraft burst into several falling balls of flame. Dmitri didn’t even pause as he flew past the falling debris shooting toward the American recon plane. His targeting computer showed him that the Americans were decimating his Cuban counterparts. He didn’t care whether they stopped the Yankees or not; he only wanted them to slow them down so World War III could start.
Laz observed the RSU plane do a sharp bank, turning northward on his radar. Realizing they couldn’t outrun the RSU pilot, he, too, turned northeast to close the distance between their current location and MacDill Air Force base. He was hoping they could at least get near one of the Patriot III batteries. He moved his stick slightly, and his plane responded immediately. They were now headed toward Miami while hoping there were enough friendlies in the air to slow the speedy bastard down.
“How far from the coast?”
“About four minutes,” Ollie replied. An eternity considering our limited options, he thought.
Laz watched his radar. Each of the fast-moving blips carried a designator. Each designator defined the object as a “bogie” or a “friendly.” All except one. That was the one they had to watch out for. It was fast, well-armed, and deadly. It designation was only “unknown.”
Dmitri checked his radar again and saw that his target was changing course. They were now headed toward the southwestern Florida coast. His intelligence briefing had told him of numerous Patriot and THAAD missile batteries along the horseshoe-shaped coastline. There was also MacDill to be concerned about, and they still weren’t exactly sure where the Kennedy group was. They may have had one of the world’s most advanced aircraft, but they still didn’t have the technical ability to redirect the satellites they had inherited from Russia, as the encryption codes for changing their orbiting paths had been destroyed. Dmitri watched his targeting system lock onto an F-22A. As he calmly pressed the trigger, he watched the blast of energy slice through the fuselage of the aircraft, igniting the flesh of the unfortunate pilot.
Dmitri performed like a machine. Each time his targeting computer locked onto an enemy aircraft, he would pull the trigger, fire his cannon, and then move on to the next target. His instincts took over, and he was performing like an extension of the aircraft. He sliced through the few enemy aircraft that had interceded on behalf of the Blackwing. However, the delay it caused had allowed the American craft to close in on the U.S. coastline. He watched his forward-looking radar as a full squadron of Lightnings closed in on his position. They were still over a hundred miles out, but he observed that they were breaking formation and spreading out, forming a line between him and the black recon plane. They moved to various levels, trying to cut him off and create a further delay for Dmitri.
Without warning, Dmitri’s weapons radar blasted out an irritating tone, which advised him that numerous U.S. craft had established weapons lock. Knowing he could outrun the missiles if he had the proper angles, he determined that he would have to break off his chase of the enemy recon plane. His HUD immediately displayed the eight air-to-air missiles the enemy had launched in his direction. He shut down his radar, knowing that the AIM-140s locked onto both radar and heat signatures and hoping he could shake them.
“Laz, he’s broken off! The 35s got off eight AIM-140s,” Ollie shouted.
“Which way is he heading?”
“Southeast! It should buy us about four more minutes. We should be able to make the Florida coast.”
“Great! We finally got a break!”
Ollie felt as though they might finally have a chance, the only one they’d had since their initial meeting with this enemy. His hope faded as he watched six of the eight missiles miss their target while the excellent pilot blasted his aircraft through their air blockade. However, two of the missiles still had a chance at the target; one of them closed in, and as it exploded, it damaged the Soviets’ rear tail fin. The second missile fell toward the sea as it was outpaced by the scramjet.
After fighting through the American lines, Dmitri realized he had sustained a slight degree of damage to his craft from the AIM missiles that had exploded nearby. As he increased his speed to resume pursuit, mission control ordered him to break off due to the damage to his aircraft and to immediately land his plane at the nearest Cuban airfield. Shrugging off those orders, he shot upward at a speed the Americans couldn’t keep up with while turning his radar back on to reacquire the Blackwing.
Laz wasn’t surprised when Ollie told him that the RSU craft had reacquired them as they turned toward MacDill. He closed to within six miles of the air base, but Dmitri had also closed in on them. He was above and to the south of the Blackwing, and he watched as five more F-22As managed to get off the ground. Dmitri nosed his aircraft into a dive and targeted the lead Raptor, causing the aircraft to explode and shower debris into the path of the other planes that were also leaving the ground. One of the F-22As tilted to its right and slammed into the ground as the jet intake of the trailing plane inhaled some of the falling debris. That debris caused the turbine blades to shred and shoot out of the exhaust port, destroying the engines. Three of the planes managed to avoid receiving any damage, and they took off to continue the mission.
Obi One’s flight was waved off due to the volume of debris and hydrazine burning on the runway. Laz shot toward the east coast and headed for Myrtle Beach, as Shaw Air Base was the only remaining authorized landing site for their craft.
Ollie watched with awe as the RSU plane managed to maintain its pursuit, even after hearing over the tactical net that the enemy craft had sustained some minor damage. The patriot missile batteries got off several missiles but with no success. Laz was beginning to feel that the situation was hopeless.
“Ollie, I don’t think we’re going to make Shaw.”
“I think you’re right. What do you want to do?”
“We should get out over the water. If he does get us, at least this plane won’t fall into someone’s living room,” Laz stated as he turned the plane out toward the Atlantic Ocean.
Dmitri saw his enemy again change course toward the Atlantic Ocean. He wasn’t sure what the American was up to, but there wasn’t much more he could do. He noticed a slight shaking of the airframe as he changed course
to get above the Americans. His onboard computer automatically changed the flight surfaces to stabilize the aircraft while allowing Dmitri to maintain flight control. He ran a quick diagnostic check, and the LCD display advised him not to exceed Mach 9.7. If he did, he could expect the aircraft tail to shear. Since the recoil of the pulse cannon was engineered into the spine of the airframe, he should only fire the weapon in directed-beam mode; otherwise it could further weaken the airframe.
A quick check of his airspeed indicator showed that he was traveling at a speed of Mach 9.6. He immediately scanned the targeting system and struggled to get the Blackwing locked in. He continued to maneuver his aircraft, trying to gain an advantage on the American. He switched the weapons system to a directed beam mode as the AI system had advised him to.
As the Russian continued to fight to gain an advantage, Laz fought equally hard to ensure that he didn’t. The cat-and-mouse game continued, and Ollie wondered why the Dragon Fox didn’t close. He knew the aircraft had the speed to overtake them, so, why wasn’t he? He turned to try to get a visual on their enemy. Unable to see the Soviet, he turned back to his instrument panel and looked at his radar, which showed that the plane was still just under a mile away, high above them.
“Laz, why isn’t he attacking?”
“Man! You talk about me being negative! The reported damage must be slowing him down.”
“If that’s the case, then doesn’t this level, steady flying benefit him?”
“Yeah! I see what you’re saying! Hang on!”
Dmitri watched his radar as the American began making radical course changes, which forced him to follow in order to catch up. Each maneuver he performed caused more stress and damage to the tail section of his aircraft. The increased damage then caused the aircraft’s AI system to take over more of the flight characteristics to augment Dmitri’s flight control. As Dmitri dove downward, Laz also banked the Blackwing down toward the ocean at a speed of Mach 10.1 while performing a hard-spiral roll to the east.
