Reaching a decision, he looked up into Tikhomirov’s troubled face. Clearly, the other man also understood the stakes involved. Allowing the Americans to retrieve a downed astronaut out from under their very noses would not win any accolades from their country’s impulsive and often unforgiving leader. “Contact Colonel Federov! I want his Super Flankers headed back north at full speed!”
With his force of twelve twin-tailed Su-35S Super Flankers spread in fighting pairs across a sixty-kilometer-wide front, Colonel Ivan Federov clicked his radio. “Sentry Flights, this is Sentry Lead. Let’s not be subtle about this. Activate your radars and go to full military power! We’ll climb to three thousand meters. There are no other friendly aircraft ahead of us. Repeat, no friendlies. You are cleared to engage any bogeys without positive IKS with every available missile.”
IKS, or identifikatsionnyy kod samolet, was the Russian equivalent of the IFF, or identification friend or foe, system used by Western air forces. It was a transponder code used by aircraft to verify themselves as friendly to fighter interceptors and radar sites.
Federov called to his wingman. “Sentry Two, are you ready to go hunting?”
“Two,” the other pilot confirmed.
“Then follow me.” Federov advanced the throttles and pulled back on his stick. Accelerating fast, his Flanker soared higher into the night sky. Its dark and light blue “Shark” camouflage scheme rendered the fighter almost invisible to the naked eye. As it leveled off at three thousand meters, he thumbed a button on his stick to power up the Su-35’s IRBIS-E hybrid phased-array radar. Instantly, one of the cockpit’s two big multifunction displays lit up… showing a lot of empty sky ahead of them.
No great surprise there, he thought. They were still well south of the Oldjikan area. And against a stealthy target, the radar would be lucky to sniff out anything much farther than twenty or thirty kilometers away. In fact, his Flanker’s passive infrared search-and-track system was more likely to spot the enemy stealth aircraft’s heat signature first. Still, there was a value to coming in fast and loud, with all radars booming. Learning suddenly that a massive force of Su-35s was coming after them at high speed should scare the crap out of that American flight crew.
And frightened men were more likely to make mistakes, Federov knew. One of the keys to victory in any air-to-air fight was getting inside your opponent’s decision cycle. If you could push another pilot into reacting to your moves… or better yet, to what he feared you might do… instead of carrying out his own plan, you were well on your way to scoring a kill.
Nestled between the two MQ-55 Coyotes, the XCV-62 Ranger streaked southeast over the pitch-black Russian countryside. The radar- and jammer-equipped Howler drone followed right behind. All four aircraft were flying so low that they almost brushed the treetops that flashed past below them in a blur.
“S-band search radar and multiple I-band radars at two o’clock. Estimated range is seventy miles,” the Ranger’s computer said calmly. “Detection probability at this altitude is nil.”
“Those are the ‘Big Bird’ and ‘Clam Shell’ radars operating with the S-300PM regiment stationed near Komsomolsk,” Nadia Rozek said, after checking the signal characteristics shown on her threat display. “We are not at risk on this course.”
“Understood.” Peter Vasey’s voice was calm. Only the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead revealed the intense concentration required to avoid slamming them into the ground at more than four hundred knots.
Momentarily free to focus on her personal concerns, Nadia clicked the intercom, opening a channel to the troop compartment. “Major Schofield, how is Captain McLanahan?”
To her surprise, Brad answered for himself. “Captain McLanahan is just fine.”
But Nadia could hear the pain and tension in his voice. “You do not sound… fine,” she said cautiously.
“Okay, so my shoulder and leg hurt like hell… and we’re probably going to have to dodge about a billion SAMs to get out of this mess alive,” Brad acknowledged. Curiously enough, she could almost “hear” the crooked smile on his face. “But trust me, Nadia Rozek, I am fine. Because we’re together now… and that’s good enough for me.”
“Oh,” she said quietly. Her cheeks flamed red. “Well, I love y…”
“Warning, warning, multiple airborne X-band search radars detected from two o’clock to three o’clock,” the computer interrupted. “New radar contacts evaluated as IRBIS-E Su-35S Super Flanker systems. Range ninety miles and closing. Detection probability very low, but rising.”
“Bother,” Vasey said softly. He risked a quick glance in Nadia’s direction. “It seems the Russians have finally tumbled to our little game. Should we engage those fighter radars with SPEAR?” Like almost all Sky Masters — designed aircraft, the Ranger carried the ALQ-293 Self-Protection Electronically Agile Reaction system. When active, SPEAR transmitted precisely tailored signals intended to hoax enemy radars. By changing the timing of the pulses sent back to a hostile radar, it could fool an enemy set into “seeing” the XCV-62 somewhere else in the sky… or even render it essentially invisible.
Nadia shook her head. “Not yet.” She paged through her threat displays. “I count ten-plus Su-35s flying northeast toward us at more than six hundred knots. SPEAR cannot successfully deceive so many radars.”
“Then it’s time to let our little friends off the leash?”
“It is,” Nadia confirmed. Unless things changed, their tactical situation was going to go from bad to worse… and quickly. On their own, they could not outrun or outmaneuver the large force of Russian warplanes hunting them. Nor could they fight them, since the XCV-62 was completely unarmed. And there was no chance they could slip past that oncoming aerial wall of Su-35s unnoticed. Based on their current course and speed, at least six of those enemy fighters had a very high probability of picking up the Ranger either on radar or with their thermal detection systems. Turning back to the northeast to reduce the rate at which the Russians were closing on them would delay the inevitable… but not for long.
That left her with one viable option.
Quickly, she opened data links to the two Coyotes and the Howler electronic warfare drone. Her fingers flew across a virtual keyboard, programming new navigation waypoints and other instructions into their autonomous flight control systems. Lights blinked green, confirming that each unmanned aircraft had received her orders. “Stand by to execute breakaway maneuver,” she told Vasey.
All three drones climbed a couple of hundred feet and flew on toward the southeast.
“Execute.”
Below the three Iron Wolf drones now, Vasey inched his throttles back. Gradually, the XCV-62’s airspeed dropped by fifty knots. The aircraft shuddered slightly, buffeted by turbulence as the trailing EQ-55 Howler passed low overhead. Gently, he nudged the stick slightly left, banking into a gentle turn toward the northeast. Then, rolling back out of the turn, he throttled back up to four hundred and fifty knots. They entered a valley that ran generally in the same direction and flew on, with rugged hills rising more than a thousand feet above them off the port side.