And then there was the force-multiplier that set US and Russian drone doctrine apart. The semi-autonomous combat AI. The first Fantom that had launched was Bunny’s LMV or lead mission vehicle, and she had slaved the second Fantom to that one. Fantom 2 was in support mode, providing cover for the primary drone and feeding it with sensor data. The third Fantom was her SMV, or secondary mission vehicle, with orders to join the wedge and hold formation, while the fourth Fantom flew cover for the SMV. All machines were programmed with the ROE, ordered to identify but not engage any potential threats and evade enemy fire if fired upon. In this way, switching from the lead machine in each two-plane element to the other, changing their orders on the fly, Bunny flew the four drones with keyboards and a mouse, her head nestled inside a virtual-reality helmet, just like a gamer on a console. She could manage up to six drones at once in this way — even when the lead started flying.
“How long to Savoonga?” Halifax asked, for about the third time.
“Seven minutes Sir,” O’Hare replied in a deadpan voice, fingers dancing over the keys. Although on org charts NCTAMS-A4 was listed under Naval Network Warfare Command, in practice due to its covert nature it was anchored under the Headquarters of Commander, Naval Air Forces with a direct line up to the Navy’s main ‘Air Boss’. Its mission was to ‘develop future weapons and tactics for the defense of the Continental United States’. And that meant that today they took their tasking from Alaska NORAD Region, or ANR.
Bunny keyed her mike, reaching out to the controllers at NORAD, “ANR, this is NCTAMS-A4 flight of 4 inbound Saint Lawrence, targeting overflight of Savoonga. I have good feed on passive arrays, I see six, repeat six Russian fighters at 50,000 feet over the east coast, three over Savoonga, three over…uh…Gambell. I’m also picking up Russian encrypted radio traffic on electronic intel further west, probably also Gambell. Confirm?” The Russians might be trying to jam electronic surveillance of their sub rescue operation, but between satellite mounted synthetic aperture radar and infrared sensors, the long-distance radar at Elmendorf-Richardson Air Force Base, and now the data being fed to them by Bunny’s Fantoms, NORAD should be able to burn through.
“ANR confirming. You are clear to ingress. Get eyes on the prize NCTAMS. We have F-35s én route. They’ll try to pull the Russian fighters east of Saint Lawrence, give you a window.”
“Roger ANR,” Bunny said. “Starting ingress.”
Bunny was flying nap of the earth, counting on wave and ground clutter to hide her 5th gen stealth aircraft from Russian naval or air radar.
It was the first time in her career Bunny had the chance to face off against real Russian radar and weapons platforms and operators.
She was looking forward to it.
“Raptor Control to Swan leader, we have business for you,” Bondarev heard the voice of the controller on his A-50W say in his helmet. “Sending data to you now.”
Bondarev tightened his hand on this throttle and saw his heads-up display flicker before it switched into targeting mode. Immediately he saw six arrows on the screen with target identifier icons underneath them. F-35s moving out from Eielson AFB, and they were not trying to hide. They were being tracked either by the Airborne Control aircraft circling back over the Russian mainland at Providenya, or by satellites overhead. The data lock looked solid, which meant that Bondarev didn’t need to risk confirming his own strength and position and could track the incoming American aircraft with passive systems.
But he had learned over Syria and Turkey to assume that if he could see the enemy, then they could probably see him. He had no faith in Russian electronic countermeasures against sophisticated US weapons systems; they had failed him too often.
“I have them Raptor Control,” Bondarev confirmed. “Orders please.”
“Swan leader, you are to fly within visual range of the bogies but do not cross the Alaska coast. Repeat, you are not to cross the Alaska Coast. Warn the American aircraft to stay outside of a fifty-mile diameter around Saint Lawrence Island while our submarine recovery operation is underway. You can tell them this has been agreed personally between the US and Russian Presidents.”
Bondarev smiled. He knew how he would react if he was one of the approaching Americans. He’d think twice before pushing through the Russian perimeter without checking first. It should buy the troops on the ground below some precious minutes, maybe even hours.
“Roger Raptor Control, Swan 1 moving to intercept,” he said. “Raptor Control can you please scramble Eagle flight from Lavrentiya to my current position. I’m going to have to burn some fuel; I want overlapping CAP coverage in case the US pilots do not respect our kind request.”
“Scrambling Eagle flight, roger.”
“Element 1, stay with me, Element 2, top cover please. Element 3, go low and maximize stealth profile. All elements, passive tracking only.”
Bondarev lit his tail and felt his spine sink into the backrest of his seat as he accelerated toward the incoming Americans. He didn’t want them to think they were being attacked, yet, so he kept his wingmen in tight formation and switched his radio to the Guard international communications frequency as soon as his system indicated he should be in range of the Americans, which was about 50 miles and closing rapidly.
“US aircraft approaching Saint Lawrence, this is the commander of Russian air force operations over our rescue zone. We kindly request you to hold station at least 50 miles back from Saint Lawrence Island so as not to compromise our submarine rescue operation,” Bondarev said in slightly accented English. He had learned from a British teacher at the fighter academy, and then polished his language working with Syrian pilots and ground controllers in combat in the Middle East. Not to mention the American girlfriend he’d had when stationed briefly in Moscow, but that was another story.
“Unidentified Russian aircraft,” the American fighter commander immediately replied. “You are ordered to depart US airspace immediately or risk being fired upon.” At that moment, a threat warning sounded in Bondarev’s helmet and his heads-up display showed that his flight was being tracked with active airborne targeting radar.
“Stay in passive mode,” Bondarev said to his pilots, “But unsafe weapons and prepare to engage on my orders.” The six Russian machines were linked via a data net that coordinated their targeting so that two long range and two short-range missiles were allocated to each American aircraft. Satisfied they were bracketed, Bondarev turned his attention back to the radio. The Americans were 20 miles out now and within reach of medium range missiles but he was not seeing missile targeting radar warnings, so they had not armed their missiles yet. They would soon be within short range infrared missile range though — which was the equivalent of airborne knife fighting — and any short-range missile launch warnings would give him milliseconds to react.