Which is exactly why he didn’t want to use them earlier, Englehardt thought.
“Use what we have.”
“I’LL TAKE THE LEAD SUKHOI,” STARSHIP TOLD ENGLEHARDT
and Sullivan. “You guys get everything else.”
A two-seater, the Su-30 bore roughly the same relation-ship to the Su-27 as the Super Hornet bore to the original F/A-18 Hornet. Starship knew that if he didn’t fly just right, the Su-30 could easily get past him. And even if he did, it still might.
His first move was to push Hawk One ahead of Hawk Two, increasing his separation to roughly five miles. Expecting the Sukhoi radar to pick up the Flighthawk, he put Hawk One on an intercept that would take it directly into the Sukhoi’s windscreen. The two aircraft were closing at a rate of almost 1,400 miles an hour, or roughly 23 miles a minute.
That would give the Sukhoi pilot only a few seconds to react before his aircraft was in range of the Flighthawk’s cannon.
A head-on attack at high speed had a limited chance of success, even with the computer aiming the gun. But Starship wasn’t counting on Hawk One to shoot the plane down.
He wanted to attract the Indian’s attention and break its RETRIBUTION
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charge. Once it began to maneuver, it would necessarily lose speed, taking away some of its advantage over the Flighthawks.
Hawk One was still thirty miles from the Sukhoi when the Indian pilot showed he wasn’t a pushover either—he fired two AMRAAMskis, not at the EB-52, but at the Flighthawks.
“Missiles in-bound for Flighthawks,” Rager warned from his station upstairs. His voice was so loud in Starship’s headset that he could have heard him without the interphone circuit.
“Yeah, roger that,” said Starship.
He guessed that the missiles had been launched in the equivalent of a boresight mode, with the hope that their onboard radars would pick up the Flighthawks as they drew close. But it was also possible that the Su-30 was hoping to simply clear the path in front of him: Once the Flighthawks began maneuvering to avoid the missiles, his path to the Bennett would be clear.
Starship pulled Hawk One up, discharged some chaff, then rode the robot straight upward increasing the ship’s radar signature to make it easier for the missiles to find him. At the same time, he continued Hawk Two on its course. The missiles saw Hawk One and began to follow—only to lose the slippery aircraft as Starship pumped more metal tinsel in the air and pushed down hard on his wing, spinning away as he reduced his radar signature to that of a pygmy grasshop-per. The missiles exploded several miles behind Hawk One; the Flighthawk had gone a little farther south than he wanted, but it was still close enough to recover if Hawk Two slowed the Sukhoi down.
Hawk Two was seven miles from the Sukhoi. Starship’s gun sight began blinking black, the other plane lower than he expected; as the sight blinked red, the Sukhoi veered north.
“Lock and fire,” Starship told the computer, letting C3
shoot while he flew the plane.
Always optimistic, the computer wound the Vulcan cannon 312
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
up and began spitting its bullets in the Sukhoi’s direction a few seconds before it was actually in range. Starship nudged his stick to follow the Sukhoi, trying to give the computer as much time on the target as possible without trading too much altitude or speed.
The Sukhoi rolled out and disappeared below him, heading almost straight down. Starship didn’t follow, knowing the Indian would only pull up abruptly and try to outmuscle him. Instead, he slid Hawk Two back in the direction of the Bennett.
Hawk One was now about eight miles to the east and two miles south of the Sukhoi, and at 30,000 feet, roughly 10,000
over the plunging Su-30. Starship pushed the aircraft toward an intercept, trading altitude for speed, but still staying east in case the Indian pilot decided to hit the gas in that direction.
“Launch warning! SA-3s,” said Sullivan, the copilot, over the interphone.
The Megafortress lurched beneath Starship. He tried to shut out the cockpit conversation and focus on the Sukhoi, pushing Hawk One closer. The Indian had to turn to stay on course for the Megafortress. His turn inadvertently closed the distance with Hawk One. His tail appeared at the bottom of the screen. The targeting piper boxed it in black—out of range.
Starship told the computer to pursue the Sukhoi and took over Hawk Two. As he did, the Sukhoi began a hard turn west. It was far too early to get behind the Megafortress, Starship thought; he checked the sitrep and realized what was going on—the Bennett had altered its course to avoid the SA-3s, and was now flying almost due south toward the Indian. The Sukhoi was lined up and ready to launch its missiles at the Megafortress’s nose.
“Flighthawk leader to Bennett—you’re closing the distance with the Sukhoi.”
“Take care of him.”
“It would help if you kept your distance,” muttered Starship.
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“Just fly your own damn plane,” answered Englehardt.
Starship pushed Hawk Two at the Sukhoi from above, taking on the plane from the forward right quarter. He managed to get a short burst into the fuselage before passing. The Sukhoi didn’t even seem to notice.
A warning sounded; the Indian pilot had managed to fire his two remaining radar missiles, both AMRAAMskis.
“MISSILES,” WARNED SULLIVAN.
“ECMs. Hang on.” Englehardt began pushing the Megafortress into a series of evasive maneuvers. He was tired, as tired as he’d ever been, yet so keyed on adrenaline his hands were shaking.
“Still on us,” said Sullivan.
“What’s with the SA-2 battery near the coast?”
“Tracking. No launch.”
“Sukhoi is breaking off, moving east,” said Rager.
“Sure. He’s out of missiles,” snapped Sullivan.
Englehardt’s neck was swimming in sweat. Even though the controls were electronic, pushing them felt like heavy work, and his arms and legs felt as if they were going to fall off.
“Missile two is gone. The first one is still coming,” warned Sullivan.
Englehardt slammed the airplane back to the north one more time, putting enough g’s on the air frame to get a warning from the computer. The AMRAAMski slipped by—but as it did, the guidance circuit in its tiny brain realized it had been fooled, and self-detonated out of spite.
Shrapnel spun through the air. A succession of light thuds peppered the right side of the plane.
The aircraft shuddered but responded to his controls, leveling herself off as Sullivan glanced at the sitrep to get his bearings. Warning lights began to blink on the dashboard, and before Englehardt could completely sort out what was going on, he heard a loud thud from somewhere behind him.
The Megafortress seemed to move backward in the air. He 314
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
knew he’d lost one of his engines, but his adrenaline-soaked brain couldn’t figure out which one at first.
“Copilot, status. Engines,” he said.
“Three is out. Problems with four. Temp high, moving to yellow. Shit. Red.”
“Bring it down. Trimming to compensate,” said Englehardt.
“SA-2 site has fired two missiles,” said Rager.
“Bastards,” muttered Sullivan.
THE SUKHOI BROKE EAST AFTER FIRING, EITHER UNAWARE
that Hawk One was shadowing him or thinking he could simply slip by.
Or maybe his pass had damaged the Sukhoi, Starship thought. The Indian aircraft was trailing black smoke from one of its engines.
The aiming cue on Hawk One went solid red, and Starship pressed the trigger. The first two or three rounds sailed to the right, but the rest ripped a large hole in the enemy’s wing.
“Get out,” Starship said aloud, even as he continued to press the trigger. “Bail. Time to bail.”