“Sukhoi-27 Flanker,” another voice cut in. That was Major Nancy Cheshire, also manning the “virtual cockpit” back at Elliott Air Force Base, helping advise Annie as her “virtual pilot.” “Looks like single ship so far … no, wait.” At that instant, a second enemy aircraft appeared, several thousand feet higher and slightly behind the first. “He’s got a wingman in high combat air patrol. Another Flanker. We got any help on the way, General?”
“The Ukrainian Air Force has scrambled some fighters from Kiev,” Samson replied. “ETA sixteen minutes. Hang tight.”
By then, Duane Deverill was climbing back into his seat. He now wore a pair of insulated mukluks with leg gaiters reaching all the way to his knees instead of flying boots; a short winter-weight flight jacket; a pair of thick insulated mittens over glove inserts with a finger opening so he could work the controls; a watch cap under his flying helmet; and his survival vest and parachute harness over his parka. It took him an extra minute to readjust all his straps for the added bulk.
As soon as he was all strapped and plugged in, he announced the threat also. “Go get in your survival gear, Annie,” he said urgently. “I’ll keep an eye on this bastard.”
“No. He’s flying away from us.”
“Even better reason to clear off and get in your cold-weather gear,” he said. “I’ve got the aircraft. Get going.”
Annie nodded and began to safe her ejection seat when suddenly they heard a fast-pitched DEEDLEDEEDLEDEEDLE! tone in their headsets. Annie looked up. A yellow triangle was now emanating from the pointed top of the bat-wing enemy aircraft signal, the computer’s estimate of the enemy aircraft’s radar range and sweep — and it was completely surrounding the aircraft symbols of the MC-130P tanker and the MV-22 Pave Hammer transport. The yellow color meant that the radar had locked onto them.
“That Flanker just locked up the -130s! “ Deverill shouted.
“We gotta do something!” Annie shouted. “We’re well within Anaconda range. Let’s get ‘em warmed up!” The AIM-152 Anaconda missile was the Air Force’s newest air-to-air missile-so new that it was still several years from deployment. The AIM-152s, carried in a rotary launcher in the forward bomb bay, was unique because it was the first air-to-air missile that did not need to be guided by its launch aircraft — it could be launched against a target designated by another aircraft or ground radar station. It used a scranijet propulsion system that gave it extremely long range, in excess of eighty miles, and a top speed of over five times the speed of sound, making it capable even against incoming ballistic missiles or reentry ballistic missile warheads. Once in the predetermined vicinity of the enemy aircraft, the Anaconda activated its onboard radar and infrared sensors to locate its target, or it could continue to home in on sensor signals passed from other aircraft.
“We can’t launch missiles — the bomb bay doors are inhibited from opening when we’re in takeoff or land mode,” Deverill reminded her.
“Then override it!” Annie shouted.
“We still can’t do it,” Nancy Cheshire radioed to the crew from the “virtual cockpit.”
“We never tested a missile launch from this high angle of attack or this configuration. We don’t know how the missile will fly if we launch it in your present configuration or airspeed. It could fail to stabilize, the wingtip vortices or uneven flow patterns from the flaps and slats could disrupt it during the rocket pulse, the missile could accidentally arm — dozens of things. It just hasn’t been tested!”
“Dammit, I don’t care! Override the lockouts and launch those suckers!”
“Stand by,” Cheshire finally said, after a momentary pause. A few moments later: “Try to prearm the weapons, Dev.”
Deverill spoke “Ready Anaconda missiles” into the voice-command computer.
“AIM152 ready, “ the computer responded, and it presented a target reticle in his electronic visor. Deverill looked at the attacking enemy aircraft, centering the bat-wing symbol in the center-aiming reticle, and spoke: “Attack.”
“Warning, aircraft configuration error,” the attack computer responded, then added the computer’s next recommended command: “No attack. Ready.”
“Override configuration error and attack,” Duane said.
“Warning, configuration error override, aircraft still out of launch parameters,” the computer responded. “AIM152 in range. Recommend launch two. Ready.”
“Launch two,” Deverill ordered.
“Warning, launch command received, stop launch … bay doors opening partial … missile one away, seven remaining … launcher rotating … missile two away, six remaining … bay doors closed,” the computer responded. When the bomb bay doors opened, it felt as if the entire bottom of the EB-1C Vampire was ready to shake off. But seconds later, both AIM-152 Anaconda missiles could be seen for a brief instant flying off into the murky sky, trailing a wobbly line of fire through the storm-filled sky. Moments later, as the missiles accelerated through Mach 2, they heard two distinct BOOMs as the missiles’ scramjet motors ignited.
Just then, the triangle from the bat-wing symbol turned from yellow to red. “Oh, shit, missile launch!” Annie exclaimed. “You bastards … c’mon, Anaconda baby, nail that sucker!” A few seconds later, the triangle changed from red to yellow, then to green again. “What happened?”
“Jammers,” Deverill said. “The MC-130P has almost as many electronic jammers as a bomber. They might have just saved their lives.”
It did. Exactly thirty-seven seconds after launch, the computer reported, “Splash one target,” along with the next recommended command: “Attack target two.”
The second Su-27 Flanker made several heading and altitude changes, as if uncertain what had happened or what to do. He made a complete one-eighty, scanning the skies around him-and then the triangle disappeared and a green, then yellow, circle appeared around the bat wing. “He’s got us locked up!” Annie shouted. “Get that SOB!”
Deverill centered the target reticle on the second Flanker. “Attack,” he ordered. The computer gave him the same warnings as before, and as before, Deverill overrode them and ordered, “Launch two.”
“Warning, launch command received, stop launch … bay doors opening … missile three away, five remaining … launcher rotating…”
But the first missile did not appear from under the belly. The EB-1C hit a patch of turbulence right at the instant the missile was ejected from its rotary launcher. The ejector’s push was canceled out, so the missile failed to push free of the bomb bay doors. Instead of a smooth SWOOOSH! of a successful launch, they felt a tremendous BANG! as the missile struck one of the bomb bay doors. Instead of falling free, the missile clattered underneath the partially open bomb doors, caught in the disturbed air swirling under the bomber caused by the deployed flaps and slats and the bomber’s high nose-up flight attitude.
“Missile four…”
“Stop launch!” Deverill screamed into the voice-command system.
But it was too late. “… away, four remaining, “ the computer spoke. The second missile shot off the launcher-smack into the first missile, still caught under the bomb bay. The first missile went spinning out of control, thumping hard against the bottom of the Vampire’s fuselage until it reached the number-two engine’s intake. It bounced hard off the mouth of the intake, nearly cracking the entire nacelle off the wing. The disruption of airflow caused the number-one and — two engine to do a double compressor stall — the fire was still on inside the engines, but now there was no smooth airflow directing air and hot gases out through them. The overtemp automatically caused the power-plant control computer to shut both engines down.