Deutschland über alles. The spirit was in the air, the aroma rich and heavy on the military bases. He knew what people like Eisenach and Weismann were thinking, and it sickened him. As soon as his two years were up, he would retire from the Luftwaffe and purchase a small shop to run near his cottage. He would take weekends off and visit the boys in Frankfurt.
Metzenbaum scanned the HUD, then the panel. The radarscope displayed the three other aircraft and the freighter. His was the only active radar.
Fish. He was a fish.
Waiting for a bigger fish to come along.
Metzenbaum did not think much of his chances against a super aircraft that he could not see nor shoot at.
Yet again, he scanned the skies above. They were overcast at 4,000 meters, 3,000 meters above him. He had elected to fly low, using the lighter hue of the clouds as a movie screen. Behind him, Tiger Sieben’s silhouette was clearly visible against it.
As was the dart that zipped quickly past, several kilometers to the east.
He never took his eyes off it. The slim shape disappeared when it crossed caverns in the clouds, reappeared against foamy bases.
It was moving faster than his flight, which had been holding 550 knots. Metzenbaum clicked his radar off, advanced his throttle, and began to climb. Turning slightly to the right he began to close on the dart.
“Tiger Seven, stay with me. No radar.” He blinked his wing lights once for his wingman’s benefit. “Panther Two, go to zero-zero-eight, and begin losing altitude. There is a MakoShark below the cloud cover at two-five-zero-zero meters and descending.”
Still there. He kept himself from staring directly at it, looking instead slightly ahead of it, and holding the silhouette in his peripheral vision.
Closer.
A thousand meters away, it took on the delta shape. Sleek. So black against the cloud base.
Metzenbaum armed all four of his Sky Flashes, aimed them with his gun sight, and launched.
“Incoming,” Munoz said matter-of-factly. “Four hot ones, Snake Eyes. Seven hundred yards.”
“Hell, he’s right on our tail,” McKenna said. “Going over.”
“Hit it! Now, please.”
The rocket motors had been on standby since Delta Blue had passed below 30,000 feet. McKenna shoved the throttles in and sank back into his lounge seat as the MakoShark leaped forward. He hauled back on the hand controller, and the nose pulled up. Seconds later, they entered the clouds. Droplets of moisture hit the windscreen and trailed backward over the canopy.
In the rearview screen, he saw the four missiles swoop upward after him, now locked onto the rocket exhaust.
He killed the rockets, pulled the nose on over, and was headed south, inverted.
Rolled upright.
The four missiles kept climbing straight up, looking for the heat trail they had lost.
The screen gave up the night vision view as Munoz went to radar.
“Bogies dead ahead, Snake Eyes. Two of ’em, eight thousand feet, two miles and closing fast.”
Delta Blue had no missiles.
Two of the hard points held four torpedoes, and the other two mounted a gun pod and a camera pod.
“Two more below us. Under the clouds. All of ’em will be lookin’ for our radar.”
McKenna armed the gun, held his head upright, and at the right side of the cockpit, raised a protective flap, and pushed the switch that interfaced the helmet with the MakoShark’s computer controls. The secondary trigger was mounted in the front of the armrest, so he would not have to grip the hand controller.
An orange gun sight appeared on his visor.
Moving his head slowly downward, the sight dropped to the bottom of the windscreen, and the MakoShark immediately followed, lowering her nose, slanting down toward
8,000 feet.
Forefinger on the trigger.
“Come right a hair,” Munoz ordered.
McKenna moved the sight to the right.
The MakoShark followed.
“You should have it any second, jefe.”
There.
A thousand feet above the cloud tops, now coming up, looking for him.
Two missiles blossomed from under its wings.
Munoz killed the radar almost as soon as the threat receiver went off. The CRT flashed HOSTILE LOCK-ON, then lost it.
Outlined nicely against the clouds.
Eurofighter, by its rudders.
The two missiles missed them by a couple hundred yards.
The pilot might not have him visually, looking up at a dark sky.
Straight-in.
Five hundred knots on the HUD.
Lead it.
He dropped the gun sight in front of the German’s line of flight.
The MakoShark dipped almost imperceptively.
And pressed the trigger.
Hot green tracers arcing out from the pod.
Dancing on the sky and clouds.
Traipsing toward the fighter.
The German saw them, whipped a wing over and tried to dive away.
The twenty millimeter shells stitched across his canopy, then the left wing.
The wing shredded and peeled away.
Red-yellow flames licking.
Delta Blue flashed over its victim as McKenna raised his head.
Active radar again.
“The other one’s hightailin’ it. Take her down!”
McKenna canted his head, then pulled it back, and the MakoShark rolled inverted, then dove into the clouds.
“Keep Comin’, keep Comin’… upright. Left turn hard.”
McKenna rolled upright, turned to the left.
“Right there! Come back right.”
To the right.
“See him?”
“Not yet, Tiger.”
“Well, shit! I see him.”
“You have radar.”
“Oh, right. This one’s the son of a bitch that fired on us first.”
At 5,000 feet, McKenna scanned the lower side of the cloud bank with his eyes, not moving the helmet.
There he was. Another Eurofighter.
He was in a tight circle, coming back to where his threat receiver had shown him an active radar.
McKenna was about to say something when Munoz shut it down again.
But the Eurofighter pilot had seen him.
He was diving hard.
They lined up on each other, McKenna seeing a front-view silhouette against the cloud layer. The German had to be working mostly on instinct.
No missiles fired. He may have only had the four.
Three thousand feet, McKenna judged.
“Brave bastard,” Munoz said.
The German opened up with his guns. Red tracers whistling above the canopy.
McKenna pressed his trigger and pulled his head back a little.
The first shells — about thirty of them — went right through the Eurofighter’s engine intake. The turbojet exploded and spewed debris in flaming arcs.
McKenna jerked his head back, pulling the MakoShark into a tight loop, but still felt the pings as they flew through some of the debris that filled the air.
When he straightened his head, the rearview screen showed him a ball of flame plunging toward the sea.
“You had it, Tiger. Brave guy.”
“Tornado Comin’ up under us. Two launched.” The radar had flashed on, then off again.
McKenna rolled hard to the left.
Jammed the rocket throttles forward.
The sky behind them lit up as the rockets fired.
The HUD went quickly to 600 knots, 700, switched to Mach numbers. 1.1. 1.5.
He pulled the throttles back.
“Lost the missiles, lost the Tornado. He’s tryin’ to figure out what happened.”
A minute later, Munoz flashed the radar again. “He’s goin’ west, still looking for us. The other Tornado is joinin’ up with him.”