`~~~welcome to the future of dogfighting~~~`
You enter the hanger with the rest of your group, fresh out of flight training, the war that has been raging for years you have finally been allowed to join even at your young age. The Sergent eyes you all with cold hard eyes, before in a booming voice he shouts. "listen up! most of you joined this war...to help your country in a time of great need...or maybe because you thought it would be fun. i will tell you this, look to your left....now look to your right. within the next few weeks to months he or she will be dead!"
Months of non stop aerial combat pass. Turns out the Sergent's predictions were true, you sit in the hanger a hardened veteran, victor in countless sorties....and airborne killing machine. A female no older than 17 enters the hanger, she wore a dark gray flight suite unlike the normal olive drab she blinks silently at you then speaks up. "your record is impressive, and i have seen you fly, you have many skills that can be used in many ways. Only the elite are asked to join." will you join the turmoil? will you join the intense missions across the world? will you join sigma squadron?
Quick briefing
Your fighting for the motherland, the glorious USSR, and you defend it with your life. The war, was started by the Chinese and the rest of the countries were drug into it.
Our allies
Libya
Germany
Australia
Our enemies
America
China
Japan
France
The U.K
Canada
Battle scenarios aka sorites
high altitude air to air
low altitude air to air
air to ground strike
CAP mission(cap meaning combat air patrol)
escort mission
Aircraft
A-10 thunderbolt
F-2 viperzero
F-4 phantomII
F-5 tigershark
F-14 tomcat
F-15 eagle
F-16 fighting falcon
F-18 super hornet
F-20 tigershark
F-22 raptor
F-35 lightning II (Vtol)
Mig-25 foxbat
Mig-27 flogger-J
Mig-29 super falcrum
Mig-31 foxhound
Mig-35 falcrum
Su-27 flanker
Su-33 super flanker
Su-34 fullback
Su-37 termanator
Su-47 berkut
Yak-130
Yak-141 (vtol)
Av-8b harrier II (Vtol)
Pak-fa (T-20)
(This is a short list of them, So feel free to pick something off the list.)
You enter the hanger with the rest of your group, fresh out of flight training, the war that has been raging for years you have finally been allowed to join even at your young age. The Sergent eyes you all with cold hard eyes, before in a booming voice he shouts. "listen up! most of you joined this war...to help your country in a time of great need...or maybe because you thought it would be fun. i will tell you this, look to your left....now look to your right. within the next few weeks to months he or she will be dead!"
Months of non stop aerial combat pass. Turns out the Sergent's predictions were true, you sit in the hanger a hardened veteran, victor in countless sorties....and airborne killing machine. A female no older than 17 enters the hanger, she wore a dark gray flight suite unlike the normal olive drab she blinks silently at you then speaks up. "your record is impressive, and i have seen you fly, you have many skills that can be used in many ways. Only the elite are asked to join." will you join the turmoil? will you join the intense missions across the world? will you join sigma squadron?
Quick briefing
Your fighting for the motherland, the glorious USSR, and you defend it with your life. The war, was started by the Chinese and the rest of the countries were drug into it.
Our allies
Libya
Germany
Australia
Our enemies
America
China
Japan
France
The U.K
Canada
Battle scenarios aka sorites
high altitude air to air
low altitude air to air
air to ground strike
CAP mission(cap meaning combat air patrol)
escort mission
Aircraft
A-10 thunderbolt
F-2 viperzero
F-4 phantomII
F-5 tigershark
F-14 tomcat
F-15 eagle
F-16 fighting falcon
F-18 super hornet
F-20 tigershark
F-22 raptor
F-35 lightning II (Vtol)
Mig-25 foxbat
Mig-27 flogger-J
Mig-29 super falcrum
Mig-31 foxhound
Mig-35 falcrum
Su-27 flanker
Su-33 super flanker
Su-34 fullback
Su-37 termanator
Su-47 berkut
Yak-130
Yak-141 (vtol)
Av-8b harrier II (Vtol)
Pak-fa (T-20)
(This is a short list of them, So feel free to pick something off the list.)
The morning sun had crept over the horizion on that fatefull day, The day that the last few nations would be pushed back to a small island chain while the evil forces at hand almost owned the world. They were the last resistance to the forces at hand. Currently they nations were all still seperately owned but not for long. Because in one fell sweep their foes wouold decend on them like hawks and obliterate their forces. Over the skies in Russia A mixed squadron flies combat air patrol over the border, for the time being expecting nothing. The squadron consisted of several makes of aircraft. The lead, Zoya, known as Vexor lead or Vector-101, Flies a Mig-33, Black with a white stripe down the left wing. Next came Zasz, Vexor-102, Her sister who flew element lead on her right wing. In a mig-1.44. Black, with a burnt orange stripe down the right wing. Zoya's wingmate, located on her left wing, Sasha, Vexor-103, Flies a Su-37, Painted low light ops gray, with darker grey patches located all around the airctaft. And last of all, Hydra, Vexor-104, Zasz' wingmate, Flying off her right wing in a sock Su-47. Black with a white blue and red patch stripe down the right vertical staab. The squadron flies at 45 thousand feet, just under the engagement regulation ceiling. Not even ten thousand feet below them flies four more squadronos, most consisting of sukhois and Migs. This is Russias Invasion story. (All you other nations better fucking have one too.) Zoya banked softly along their teritory line, looking in every direction she could, minding the fact she had radar no one ever knew when the next generation stealth tech would emerge. Her ears flick in her helmet as she hears her raido. "Vexor Lead, Check your Radar. We have a large contact movin in....It appears to be a solid. Bigger than any thing we have ever seen." Her icy blue eyes fall to her radar display and just as she did she started to see the contact emerge, It was nearly the size of her daray display. She whispered softly. "good god..." As she looked down at her radar Zasz, Sasha, and Hydra all check it too. Sasha was the first to speak up after zoya, her voice was relaxed, and harmored a small hiss to her S's. "Vexor lead, do you see this? It's impossable!" Before Zoya could respond Zasz stated. "I have Visual contact." It turnes out she had rolled her jet inverted and looked down. "Its not one big contace....it's thousands of them....We are being invaded!" she shouted. Zoya banked hard as the aquadron followed to see and she could not believe what she saw. thousands and thousands of aircraft, so many it almost made her panic. She glanced down at her scope and noted that the other two squadrons had engaged alread. She was tracking several m issile locks and she sighed. "They are gone. There is no way we can best them in any way!" As she stated that the raido comm tower patched in on their headphones, telling all the aviliable jets in the country to evacuate. The ground forces mixed with the air power was so much it overwhelemed any defence we had. Zoya punched the firewall of the jet and banked hard as the squadron followed. Hydra spke up. "well...that was straight forward. Any order lead?" Vexor-leas sighed and she flw straighgt on. "Locate high value cavilian transports, and military transports. Other countried are falling as well. We are going so ecourt them to our last sanctuary. all the forvces of the free world will be meeting there." And with that they squadron snaprolled and dove down a few thousand feet to begind escourting out the civilian transports and military transports it was the most they would do. (DO note i have not described my characters for a reason so relax.)
Three weeks had passed sense the mass invasion of the defending countries. Japan had backed off after the initial invasion and remained in their country. Our allied forces Has finally gained a sturdy foothold on a small chain of islands south of the Philippines. Ground forces, air forces had been massed on the island. HOWEVER, thanks to a treaty, nuclear weapons were forbid to be used, and that is what made this defense possible. In the late afternoon Vexor squadron flies a combat air patrol around the border of the island, making sure to scan for Subs and any other disturbances. They had leveled out at twenty thousand feet in a scanning pattern for anything, keeping close contact with the other squadrons to coordinate any advanced that could be made by the enemy. Zoya, vexor lead flicked her ears back and listened to the call a call out of enemy contacts, consisting of one old B-52 and an escort F-14,Then she looked out the side of the window, not bothering to respond. Vexor-102, her sister, called into her her comm unit and asked. "Lead aren't we going to adjust course to engage?" Zoya replies quickly and sternly, which was odd for her seeing as she has a kind person, who hated conflict. "Negative Vexor-102. If that squadron sect cannot defend against ONE bomber, then we might as well be doomed anyway." She adjusted her flight course and glanced upward. "Besides...why would the allies attack with one bomber and one escort. That seems a bit odd do you not think?" Zasz had a rough idea of what her sister had meant, and turns out they would be right. Not even a few seconds later Vexor-103, Sasha calls out. "Bogies! ten o' clock high!" The squadron adjusted their course and looked up, To their not so much surprise they spot 14 B-2 stealth bombers on a course for the airfields. However on the other side of the island, where silver, the pilot who called out the original bogies would be located, An entire three squadrons of fighters descends from the skies. Consisting of f-22s, F-35s, F-4 phantomII's, and F-15E's. About thirty in total that swoop down from over head, diving at the squadrons that protect that side of the base, and as expected all the squadrons were scrambled to counter them, leaving the B-2's open to bomb the island to hell. Hydra was first to realize this dawn and she stated quickly. "Vexor lead, They were doing a fighter sweep and bombing from the opposite direction, we are all that stand between them now." Zoya pitched the nose of her aircraft up, angling her jet at the B-2's as she replied. "Da, so it's up to us to stop them. Save your missiles, and use quick cannon bursts and take out their wings." She said it in cool confidence, harboring nothing in her voice, not even a tone. But zasz knew every second of this war was hurting her more and more. They all choose their independent targets and slash through the formation. taking down four on the first pass. Their high velocity explosive cannon shells tearing though the B-2s like they were paper. After the first pass from below the squadron split and pulled hard banking around to realign with the bombers to take down four more. (By the way i'm changing all of their aircraft to Su-47's. Black with an eagle on the left wing, and thin stripes on the left wing. It's on the pictures variant of the site.) Zasz had banked off to the right, with hydra trailing her to keep on her six clear like a good wingmate. And Zoya and sasha split the other way, to bank around from the other side and get the bombers in a crossfire. Their plan worked perfectly as five more dropped from the sky. The very last one started to bank hard away from the island, but it was to no avail. Hydra, who was eager to get another kill had dive down from above, letting lose a perfect purst of explosive rounds, right into the B-2's cockpit. It detonated in mid ait, and fell from the sky as a burning hunk of metal, like te rest of its friendly bombers. "Vexor squadron form up on my lead." Zoya stated as she banked hard to enter the fray that was going on on the other side of the island. Fer ears flicked at the, personaly, comferting voices of her squadron giving herr affirmitives. Now that they were back in proper form she orderd them simply. "Prep your SARH missles. And prepair for a long range attack." The squadron did as she told them, each one prepping their missiles and geting ready to launch on her mark. "Fire at will, ripple fire!" she called out. Almost simultaneously all four of them ripple fire two SARH missiles. they watch as their missiles streak into the tangled melee that was a dogfight over the edge of the island. Due to most of the enemies stealth capabilities and defencive maneuvering and chaffs, most of the missiles miss, out of the eight missiles fires, only two make contact. Zasz and sasha had kep a clos eeye on their missiles and zasz called out. "Bogey down." Just as sasha had also stated. "Target hit confirmed, bogey is down in flames." Zoya focked her wings and inahles softly. "Okay vexor squadron, throttle up and engage!" With that she hit full afterburners and banked hard to the left then pitched the nose up so she could pounce from above, sasha followed close behind. And off to the right, engaging on a more level state, taking whatever they could get, would be zasz and hydra
Jamie hadn't been with the kick off of the war. He had been on leave in Frankfurt, testing the German beer, but when his new orders found him, he managed to put that Scottishness of his to use to fight off the effects of being slightly drunk. By the time he was back around the world, in the cockpit of his F-22 Raptor, and taxiing off the runway, he wasn't the drunk playboy with his own money people expected him to be. He was coldly efficient and sparse with words, like his father always was. So he took off and linked up with the rest of his squadron, going from Jamie MacRae the playboy, to Wolfhound and Wolf Lead. This war wasn't his choice, or his want, or his need. But he had sworn an oath, and the United States needed him to defend her against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and if his father had taught him nothing else, James Ian MacRae, First Lieutenant, United States Air Force, knew the meaning and duty of an oath. All a man could take with him beyond the grave and leave on Earth was his reputation, and oaths made a man's reputation. Jamie kept all his oaths, no matter what. They marked him as a man. And in the world of international fighter aviation, a man had little else but his reputation.
And so Jamie was flying to fight. He didn't want to fight, he didn't want to kill, but he was ordered to, and at least it was head on engagement, not bombing. So he flew an instrument of war, as he was himself but an instrument, directed where he was needed. His wingman, Tigger, or Second Lieutenant John P. Walters, was nervous. Jamie was too, but he didn't have any time at all to reply before they came upon a giant furball, with at least the American and allied side being directed by an AWACS. An enemy formation had found a bomber and singular escort playing decoy for real bomber and fighter escort force, and the fighters were doing their best to cover the bombers. The enemy fighters were Russian, and that told Jamie all he needed to know, which was simple: He needed to get in there and cover the allied fighters' retreat. They would be needing time to regroup and come in for another pass, and Wolfhound and his flight of Wolves could provide that. His clear tones went to the AWACS far above the fight, and they hadn't expected six F-22's to show up.
"AWACS, this is Wolf Lead, Wolfhound. You got us on radar? Good. Tell our buds with their asses being handed to them to disengage and lead the bogeys our way. We have a full payload and fuel, and we're roarin' to go. Over."
"Damn, Wolf Lead. Good to see you guys. This is a real mess, man. These Russkies are tearing us a new one, and it's nice to know that not all Scots-Americans are useless, over."
"All right, AWACS. I get the picture. You're glad to see us. Let the punks getting torn a new one know to disengage so we don't rip them another new one, over." The AWACS controller laughed, but let the mixed-bag of Allied fighters know to disengage. Most did their best, but some were being harassed overly much by the group of Su-47's, so Jamie vectored his flight that direction. He set them up for a pass from above and across the more level Su-47's, and then the six F-22's were screaming down from their high altitude, and Jamie heard five calls of "Fox Three, Fox Three!" in addition to his own. Then the F-22's were coming around for another pass, and Jamie felt himself slide into a darker half, the unthinking, only reacting and acting half that kept him alive in the cockpit. But before he fell all the way, he switched to their frequency, being monitored by the AWACS, and broadcast a warning.
"Bogey flight, this is Wolf Lead. My men and I would much prefer you bug out than sit here and get into a furball with you. It's not very pleasant, and my former religion was quite against killing, even for a nation or one's own defense. So, uh, yeah. Please leave?"
And so Jamie was flying to fight. He didn't want to fight, he didn't want to kill, but he was ordered to, and at least it was head on engagement, not bombing. So he flew an instrument of war, as he was himself but an instrument, directed where he was needed. His wingman, Tigger, or Second Lieutenant John P. Walters, was nervous. Jamie was too, but he didn't have any time at all to reply before they came upon a giant furball, with at least the American and allied side being directed by an AWACS. An enemy formation had found a bomber and singular escort playing decoy for real bomber and fighter escort force, and the fighters were doing their best to cover the bombers. The enemy fighters were Russian, and that told Jamie all he needed to know, which was simple: He needed to get in there and cover the allied fighters' retreat. They would be needing time to regroup and come in for another pass, and Wolfhound and his flight of Wolves could provide that. His clear tones went to the AWACS far above the fight, and they hadn't expected six F-22's to show up.
"AWACS, this is Wolf Lead, Wolfhound. You got us on radar? Good. Tell our buds with their asses being handed to them to disengage and lead the bogeys our way. We have a full payload and fuel, and we're roarin' to go. Over."
"Damn, Wolf Lead. Good to see you guys. This is a real mess, man. These Russkies are tearing us a new one, and it's nice to know that not all Scots-Americans are useless, over."
"All right, AWACS. I get the picture. You're glad to see us. Let the punks getting torn a new one know to disengage so we don't rip them another new one, over." The AWACS controller laughed, but let the mixed-bag of Allied fighters know to disengage. Most did their best, but some were being harassed overly much by the group of Su-47's, so Jamie vectored his flight that direction. He set them up for a pass from above and across the more level Su-47's, and then the six F-22's were screaming down from their high altitude, and Jamie heard five calls of "Fox Three, Fox Three!" in addition to his own. Then the F-22's were coming around for another pass, and Jamie felt himself slide into a darker half, the unthinking, only reacting and acting half that kept him alive in the cockpit. But before he fell all the way, he switched to their frequency, being monitored by the AWACS, and broadcast a warning.
"Bogey flight, this is Wolf Lead. My men and I would much prefer you bug out than sit here and get into a furball with you. It's not very pleasant, and my former religion was quite against killing, even for a nation or one's own defense. So, uh, yeah. Please leave?"
They fray that dreadful day was getting worse and worse, more and more allied aircraft would be engaging from almost every direction, and it would leave the small number of Mig's and Sukhoi's that defended the small island chain from attack. Now the allies were supported with an AWACS, AND F-22's It was just going straight to hell. The constant call of missile locks, bogies and check six's was a constant assault on ones ears, confusing almost while trying to stay alive.
The odd voice of their foe crossed their frequencies, Leaving them in a slightly confusing state. Seeing as Zasz and Hydra were the lowest of the group they instantly looked above to look at the F-22s diving in. Reacting on pure instinct they snap right, and pull into their dive then they proceed to reverse their turn and pull back on the stick, elevating their noses skyward. on the other end of the spectrum, Zoya and her wingmate Sasha trail an F-15 that had broke from his or her squadron. Zoya had never wanted to blatantly kill anyone, but to defend her country from an unneeded war. Her soft white ears flick in her helmet and she quickly reversed to stay on the 15's tail who frantically tried to lose her. She picks up the strange frequency and replied darkly, more darkly than she ever had in her life. Her thick russian accent made it difficult for anyone not familiar with her language. Her words carried a bit of meaning to them. "I do not know who you are, nor do I care. You are attacking This military and refugee base unjustly, as you have just like when you started the war. If anything YOU need to disengage!" As she grew more exasperatedand let out a dark growl then murmured softly. "Lisa tre." Then the clicked the small red button on her flight stick, sending an R-73 Archer heat seeking missile at her prey. the F-15 popped flairs and snap rolled then pulled into a high-G turn, successfully evading the missile, but not losing the trailing Sukhoi's.
Zasz had listened quite intently to the conversation. She was appualed and completely dumbfounded that this pilot would randomly come out of the blue and ask them to just surrender the battle, hence surrendering their last home. She glanced over her shoulder then back in front of her, judging distances and calculating the odds of victory, or would this be just another martyrdom for them all, another lost battle, and the end of a bloody, unprovoked war. She grunted softly as she pulled into a tight turn, spotting a passing F-4. "Hydra, I've got this one, Watch my sex and keep those damn raptors off my six you got that?" Her ears flick as she hears a simple. "Affirmative. I got your back." Then she pulled tighter into a turn, lining up for a shot, but she would not fire, not yet, not until she figured out what would happen with this new situation. After al with missiles running low, and getting low fuel, they had to back out eventually.
The odd voice of their foe crossed their frequencies, Leaving them in a slightly confusing state. Seeing as Zasz and Hydra were the lowest of the group they instantly looked above to look at the F-22s diving in. Reacting on pure instinct they snap right, and pull into their dive then they proceed to reverse their turn and pull back on the stick, elevating their noses skyward. on the other end of the spectrum, Zoya and her wingmate Sasha trail an F-15 that had broke from his or her squadron. Zoya had never wanted to blatantly kill anyone, but to defend her country from an unneeded war. Her soft white ears flick in her helmet and she quickly reversed to stay on the 15's tail who frantically tried to lose her. She picks up the strange frequency and replied darkly, more darkly than she ever had in her life. Her thick russian accent made it difficult for anyone not familiar with her language. Her words carried a bit of meaning to them. "I do not know who you are, nor do I care. You are attacking This military and refugee base unjustly, as you have just like when you started the war. If anything YOU need to disengage!" As she grew more exasperatedand let out a dark growl then murmured softly. "Lisa tre." Then the clicked the small red button on her flight stick, sending an R-73 Archer heat seeking missile at her prey. the F-15 popped flairs and snap rolled then pulled into a high-G turn, successfully evading the missile, but not losing the trailing Sukhoi's.
Zasz had listened quite intently to the conversation. She was appualed and completely dumbfounded that this pilot would randomly come out of the blue and ask them to just surrender the battle, hence surrendering their last home. She glanced over her shoulder then back in front of her, judging distances and calculating the odds of victory, or would this be just another martyrdom for them all, another lost battle, and the end of a bloody, unprovoked war. She grunted softly as she pulled into a tight turn, spotting a passing F-4. "Hydra, I've got this one, Watch my sex and keep those damn raptors off my six you got that?" Her ears flick as she hears a simple. "Affirmative. I got your back." Then she pulled tighter into a turn, lining up for a shot, but she would not fire, not yet, not until she figured out what would happen with this new situation. After al with missiles running low, and getting low fuel, they had to back out eventually.
Shock went through Jamie's system for a moment, but then he was back under control and in control."I'm not asking you to surrender the humping battle, you fool girl. You've taken out the bombers and there's nothing more the fighters want to do. For them to keep on with their mission would be suicide! The bombers are gone, so why should the fighters stay, other than to get shot at? Discretion is the greatest part of valor, and discretion is saying "run the Hell away" as loud as possible!" Jamie signaled for his flight to break off and cover the escape of the other fighters while he himself used his thrust vectoring to climb, wingman right there beside him. They rocketed higher into the sky, and there Jamie used a flashlight to signal something to his wingman. Once he received confirmation, they both dropped back into the fight, where Jamie started talking to the AWACS again.
"Alright, Mother Falcon, you have one powerful mother-humping radar, right? Over."
"Uh,Wolf Lead, that's an affirmative. Why, over."
"Ok, Mother, tag the enemy lead with a beacon that only shows up on my radar. They're good, but I'm better, over."
"Oh, alright, Wolf Lead. Roger that." Jamie grinned to himself. His father had tried to teach him pacifism, but had also instilled a deep sense of right and wrong in his son. Right consisted of protecting women and children, even if they didn't know it. The enemy lead wanted to think the bombers were heading for the refugee base, that was her business. They had actually been heading for industrial crap. Ammo factories, and the like. It was a religious day, so it was empty. Jamie knew this because he made it his business to know as much as possible.
So now Jamie was going to protect this one, even if it killed him. He didn't know if the rest of her flight were female or not. That was something for a different time. Now he had a different duty; protect this one girl while making it look like he was trying to kill her. For a non-practicing Quaker, that was about as close to a call from God one got. So Jamie did his best.
He dropped behind her and sent a burst of cannon over her, and maintained just a slow enough airspeed to put a burst above, below, or to one of her sides every now and then, to make sure she kept her head down and busy trying to not get hit. Whenever they passed a MiG, and Jamie got the chance, he triggered a missile, on the off chance it could get a hit.
"Alright, Mother Falcon, you have one powerful mother-humping radar, right? Over."
"Uh,Wolf Lead, that's an affirmative. Why, over."
"Ok, Mother, tag the enemy lead with a beacon that only shows up on my radar. They're good, but I'm better, over."
"Oh, alright, Wolf Lead. Roger that." Jamie grinned to himself. His father had tried to teach him pacifism, but had also instilled a deep sense of right and wrong in his son. Right consisted of protecting women and children, even if they didn't know it. The enemy lead wanted to think the bombers were heading for the refugee base, that was her business. They had actually been heading for industrial crap. Ammo factories, and the like. It was a religious day, so it was empty. Jamie knew this because he made it his business to know as much as possible.
So now Jamie was going to protect this one, even if it killed him. He didn't know if the rest of her flight were female or not. That was something for a different time. Now he had a different duty; protect this one girl while making it look like he was trying to kill her. For a non-practicing Quaker, that was about as close to a call from God one got. So Jamie did his best.
He dropped behind her and sent a burst of cannon over her, and maintained just a slow enough airspeed to put a burst above, below, or to one of her sides every now and then, to make sure she kept her head down and busy trying to not get hit. Whenever they passed a MiG, and Jamie got the chance, he triggered a missile, on the off chance it could get a hit.
By the time that zoya had received the comm from the enemy pilot she had executed her foe. A focused look on her face, with some other hidden feeling crossed her facial features. She squeezed the trigger and activated the Gsh-30-1 30 mm cannon, sending a hail of the shells at her prey. They hit home and shredded though Pratt and Whiteny F100-229 turbofan engines, essentially making them burst into flame. The F-15 pilot loses control of the craft almost instantly, turning into a death roll and started to break apart as it fell. the pilot ejected to safety, leaving one less allied aircraft in the skies. Zoya had been raised as a ruthless killer, to never surrender and always fight until death took her, or she came out victorious. However at a more personal level, on the inside of her mental state, the real zoya seemed to be trapped. Her inner, 'lighter' half, the shy, timid, loving, would not hurt a fly zoya. But that always stayed locked away.
As the battle raged on, Zasz had already eliminated the F-4 PhantomII with a quick burst from her 30mm cannon, It was falling from the sky burning as well now, this time there were no chutes. By now Zasz was starting to get quite distressed over the immensity of the battle, no air battle should be this deadly and intense. She took a moment to analyze her situation. No missiles, limited cannon ammo, and low fuel. the battle was quickly deteriorating and there was no real reason to stay. She inhaled softly and stated to the squadron leader. "Vexor-101 I am breaking off and returning to base, I will me taking 104 with me. Stay safe and return to base soon ." With that being said she pushed the stick left and rolled the aircraft invert, then proceeded to use gravity and slightly adjustments of the stick to pull a quick Split-S as she bugged out. Hydra, her trustee teammate quickly followed, keeping any unwanted bogies off her six.
Back on Zoya's side she had just received her squadrons message and she nodded slowly whispering to herself, "so be it..." then she spoke up and stated. "Affirmative 102, Get back to base and be safe...." Knowing that the rest of here squadron was running low on fuel the time to break away was upon them, however, she had a modification that allowed her to have 20 minuets more fuel worth than her comrades, and because of that she issued an order. "Vexor-103. Break off and return to base. This fight is over for you." She flicked her ears and listened to Sasha's voice in her headset. "Roger that 101, I'm breaking off." Zoya glanced over her shoulder at her wing-mate bugging out. No sooner than even a few seconds after she had bugged out 20mm cannon tracers engulfed her cockpit. She looked at all of the glowing balls of led and a sense of wonder came over her, they all looked beautiful, like little shooting stars. She had never been on the receiving end of a dogfight before, so it was a first for her. She had to snap out of it quick, a small yelp came from her as one of the tracers skimmed the aircraft, maing a small screeching sound as it did. Instinct took over and she yanked the stick back, pulling into Pugachev's Cobra. It was even more smooth due to the thrust vectoring systems on the aircraft that gave her a thirty degree better angle. The sudden surge of G's made her drunt softly but she had to do something, anything to lose the trailing F-22. Upon half way though the maneuver she rolled the craft and pulled back hard on the stick again, pulling the craft into a steep screaming powerdive, hopefully away from the trailing F-22.
As the battle raged on, Zasz had already eliminated the F-4 PhantomII with a quick burst from her 30mm cannon, It was falling from the sky burning as well now, this time there were no chutes. By now Zasz was starting to get quite distressed over the immensity of the battle, no air battle should be this deadly and intense. She took a moment to analyze her situation. No missiles, limited cannon ammo, and low fuel. the battle was quickly deteriorating and there was no real reason to stay. She inhaled softly and stated to the squadron leader. "Vexor-101 I am breaking off and returning to base, I will me taking 104 with me. Stay safe and return to base soon ." With that being said she pushed the stick left and rolled the aircraft invert, then proceeded to use gravity and slightly adjustments of the stick to pull a quick Split-S as she bugged out. Hydra, her trustee teammate quickly followed, keeping any unwanted bogies off her six.
Back on Zoya's side she had just received her squadrons message and she nodded slowly whispering to herself, "so be it..." then she spoke up and stated. "Affirmative 102, Get back to base and be safe...." Knowing that the rest of here squadron was running low on fuel the time to break away was upon them, however, she had a modification that allowed her to have 20 minuets more fuel worth than her comrades, and because of that she issued an order. "Vexor-103. Break off and return to base. This fight is over for you." She flicked her ears and listened to Sasha's voice in her headset. "Roger that 101, I'm breaking off." Zoya glanced over her shoulder at her wing-mate bugging out. No sooner than even a few seconds after she had bugged out 20mm cannon tracers engulfed her cockpit. She looked at all of the glowing balls of led and a sense of wonder came over her, they all looked beautiful, like little shooting stars. She had never been on the receiving end of a dogfight before, so it was a first for her. She had to snap out of it quick, a small yelp came from her as one of the tracers skimmed the aircraft, maing a small screeching sound as it did. Instinct took over and she yanked the stick back, pulling into Pugachev's Cobra. It was even more smooth due to the thrust vectoring systems on the aircraft that gave her a thirty degree better angle. The sudden surge of G's made her drunt softly but she had to do something, anything to lose the trailing F-22. Upon half way though the maneuver she rolled the craft and pulled back hard on the stick again, pulling the craft into a steep screaming powerdive, hopefully away from the trailing F-22.
Jamie grinned, because she did exactly what he would do in her position. Pugachev's Cobra, stop half way through, and dive. He followed her through it, grinning because she couldn't know he wasn't going to splash her, but then a random allied fighter launched a heat seeking missile at her. He swore loudly and in Gaelic, then threw his F-22 into afterburners, switched off the IFF for a moment, marking him as an enemy to all allied planes in the vicinity, then dashed in front of the missile aimed for the girl's Su-47. Grinning with the thrill, he threw his plane into a screaming climb, dropped chaff, switched his IFF back on, then stalled himself out to drop back down to her six. It took him only a few precious moments as he did so, but he smiled when it worked. With any luck, she and the AWACS would both have not noticed his aerial idiocy. If she did, perhaps he could convince her to stay away when he was flying. If the AWACS did..... James Ian MacRae was going to be grounded, court-martialed, dishonorably discharged, and imprisoned for the rest of his life for treason.
He gave a very French shrug, even though he wasn't French, and continued tailing the girl. Damn. He couldn't keep referring to the girl, as 'the girl.' It just wouldn't work. He switched to her frequency and coughed before flipping the radio on.
"Uh, ma'am? I'd like to inquire as to your name, ma'am. Generally I don't, but for someone to avoid my cannon burst, that's something, ma'am. That's something."
He gave a very French shrug, even though he wasn't French, and continued tailing the girl. Damn. He couldn't keep referring to the girl, as 'the girl.' It just wouldn't work. He switched to her frequency and coughed before flipping the radio on.
"Uh, ma'am? I'd like to inquire as to your name, ma'am. Generally I don't, but for someone to avoid my cannon burst, that's something, ma'am. That's something."
Upon diving there was not much more she could do, before slam full afterburners and try to lose the trailing 22, which was impossible due to the fact that the F-22a was faster than an Su-47. Her headset screamed a missile warning into her ears for a brief moment then it strangely went silent, as did the enemy IFF signal. For the time being she did not notice, in face the millisecond she had heard the missile lock she had pumped out chaff and turned hard into where she thought the missile would be coming from. As the f-22 pilot maneuvered fancily to rip the missile lock off her she did not notice it at all, in fact she had lost sight of him. A small growl rumbled in her throat as she pushed forward on the stick, pushing positive G's until almost Redding out, She was not about to let anything harm her precious aircraft again, or else the ground crew would chew her out quite violently. To her surprise she again hears her adversaries voice in her headset. IT bothered her because she thought her frequency was secured, and more importantly he seemed to know her language quite well! Quickly thinking, as she maneuvered, she replied softly. "Look, You need to stop talking to me. We are not allies, and you will not get my name. Even if you did, I can assure you that you would not live to use it!" As she finished her sentence the emphasized her last words by violently yanking back on the stick, then rudders hard to the left as she pulled the throttle down to idle. This should have ripped the aircraft into a sharp decrease of speed, and into a spinning, slightly controllable, stall. The craft plummets for a few seconds before Zoya pushed the throttle up again, into full afterburner. Fuel levels were critical now, she had to get back to base, but something told her to stay and try and outmaneuver her foe, even if it was just to prove some ridiculous point. She pulls back on the stick and levels out before pulling back slightly, elevating the nose of the aircraft so she could look around for her prey. By then the skies had mostly cleared, only a few craft remained in the sky, all of the allied aircraft, none of her own allies remained.
Jamie let her do whatever she wanted, maneuvering, wise. If he stayed far enough back, missiles were a threat, and he didn't have to waste fuel following her through her maneuvers. As the rest of her team left, his flight formed a defensive barrier around the AWACS, because the United States only had three, in theater. They were trying to get more, but that would place a strain on the other theaters, so three it stayed. For Jamie and his flight of F-22's, that meant that if anything happened to the AWACS, they would be yanked out of combat operations and use one of them as an electronic warfare platform, with the rest flying cover for it.
Jamie rolled left, to get a better sight of her plane. It was indeed an Su-47, with a strange paint job. Knowing his duty done, Jamie pulled alongside her and tried to catch her attention. "And if you look to the port, ma'am, you'll see an American Air Force F-22 piloted by myself. Time for me to go now, and I hope you have a good day.
Although a name would be nice, ma'am. It's not fair for friends to leave without even knowing each other's name."
Jamie rolled left, to get a better sight of her plane. It was indeed an Su-47, with a strange paint job. Knowing his duty done, Jamie pulled alongside her and tried to catch her attention. "And if you look to the port, ma'am, you'll see an American Air Force F-22 piloted by myself. Time for me to go now, and I hope you have a good day.
Although a name would be nice, ma'am. It's not fair for friends to leave without even knowing each other's name."
Zoya looked out of the side of her aircraft, starting at the F-22 beside her. She had never been so close to such a powerful aircraft. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and her tail bristled slightly as she looked at him. He had managed to stay on her six the entire time...but had never took her down, why? She nodded to him and rocked her wings in a tributary manner as she replied softly, making sure her channel was secure."My name is Lieutenant Zoya Kidrov. For now we will part...I hope if we meet again the war will be over." If lintel caught her chatting with the enemy, she would be tossed into prison for quite a time, even though they needed aces. With that being said she knife edged the aircraft and banked away, keeping the afterburners running hot as she shot away from the engagement zone. Her heart raced in her chest, she had to admit even though it was a near death experience, it was exhilarating. She recieved several more communications from her wingmates as the unblocked her comm channels. She smiled hearing her sister alost shouting. "Zoya! Respond! Come on I know you are alive!"
Zoya responded calmly. "Da sister. I am alive and well. I was...under jamming influence. I will be back in base momentarily." The engines started to rattle and Zoya looked back over her shoulder to see a thin trail of smoke from her number one engine. "Dammit...looks like iv'e been fragged....I'll make it a soft landing."
Zoya responded calmly. "Da sister. I am alive and well. I was...under jamming influence. I will be back in base momentarily." The engines started to rattle and Zoya looked back over her shoulder to see a thin trail of smoke from her number one engine. "Dammit...looks like iv'e been fragged....I'll make it a soft landing."
Jamie waved as she left. So she was Zoya Kidrov. Slightly pleasurable business done, it was time for the not so pleasurable business. He racked his radar all the way up, searching for any more enemies. His screen was clear, and the AWACS was telling him that was unnecessary, so he switched it back to air-to-air search and combat mode. His flight dropped back down to take up a combat spread formation, because they were deadly men, and carefulness was the mark of such men. Jamie whistled to himself, ignoring the chatter and banter his flight threw at each other.
"Wolf Flight, this is Lead. Report your fuel and weapon status, over." Jamie's flight responded quickly. Two had full weapons and the expected fuel status, and the other three had half weapons and fuel. Jamie thought for a moment, then decided. No escort to base for Miss Kidrov. He would run out of fuel, even his reserve, partway there. The flight banked and set course for the allied air base. With any luck, he wouldn't have to fight them again. They were good, but he was better, and that meant if they had to really fight, someone would get unlucky, and unlucky got someone killed.
"Wolf Flight, this is Lead. Report your fuel and weapon status, over." Jamie's flight responded quickly. Two had full weapons and the expected fuel status, and the other three had half weapons and fuel. Jamie thought for a moment, then decided. No escort to base for Miss Kidrov. He would run out of fuel, even his reserve, partway there. The flight banked and set course for the allied air base. With any luck, he wouldn't have to fight them again. They were good, but he was better, and that meant if they had to really fight, someone would get unlucky, and unlucky got someone killed.
About a week had passed sense the last major engagement. Vexor squadron had a new mission these days. Their Su-47's had been equipped with landing hooks for carrier based operations, and their carrier fleet was sent out under cover of darkness and radio silence, To meed an american battle group to sign a peace treaty. It had turned out that the Americans, in their quest for freedom and peace, ignored the debt they owed China and they broke away, refusing to fight for them anymore. The president had agreed to meed under cover of darkness to sign a peace and allies treaty with the Russians.
March 8th, 2016. Somewhere near Hawaii. The small scout carrier fleet that counted a total of ten ships. It consisted of one Admiral Kuznetsov Heavy aircraft carrier, tree Slava class cruisers, five Udaloy class destroyers and a Borei class submarine. The Pacific waters were calm during the Autumn seasons, and it provided better stability for the carrier. Resting on active readiness on the deck of the aircraft carrier Vexor squadron waited for their launch orders. Clearly they were suppose to meet with the infamous 'wolf flight' mid way between the two fleets, then guide the fleets together Via radar signatures. There the treaty would be signed and the Americans would join the fight with Russia. Not even three minuets later they receive commands that it was time to leave the deck of the carrier. Vexor 101 and 102 lined up on the deck, waiting for their launch comfimation. The Russian design of a carrer was not slingshot activated, but the front of the deck was elevated 30 degrees, giving the aircraft that took off extra lift. Finally they receive their clarification to take off. Zoya looked to her sister and nodded slowly. Zasz returned the gesture then seemingly almost in exact synchronized manner, they pushed the throttles forward into full afterburners. Their Lyulka AL-37FU afterburning, thrust-vectoring turbofan engines scream out as they hit top RPMs as the engines glowed brightly in the night. They quickly accelerated down the deck and into the skies. Their wingmates, 103 and 104 followed soon after. Deciding to meet up at fifteen thousand feet. About one hundred and thirty miles away from their meeting place they lower the engine thrust power to almost idle levels as they almost glided to their destination. They were aloud no radio chatter until they met with the other squadron.
March 8th, 2016. Somewhere near Hawaii. The small scout carrier fleet that counted a total of ten ships. It consisted of one Admiral Kuznetsov Heavy aircraft carrier, tree Slava class cruisers, five Udaloy class destroyers and a Borei class submarine. The Pacific waters were calm during the Autumn seasons, and it provided better stability for the carrier. Resting on active readiness on the deck of the aircraft carrier Vexor squadron waited for their launch orders. Clearly they were suppose to meet with the infamous 'wolf flight' mid way between the two fleets, then guide the fleets together Via radar signatures. There the treaty would be signed and the Americans would join the fight with Russia. Not even three minuets later they receive commands that it was time to leave the deck of the carrier. Vexor 101 and 102 lined up on the deck, waiting for their launch comfimation. The Russian design of a carrer was not slingshot activated, but the front of the deck was elevated 30 degrees, giving the aircraft that took off extra lift. Finally they receive their clarification to take off. Zoya looked to her sister and nodded slowly. Zasz returned the gesture then seemingly almost in exact synchronized manner, they pushed the throttles forward into full afterburners. Their Lyulka AL-37FU afterburning, thrust-vectoring turbofan engines scream out as they hit top RPMs as the engines glowed brightly in the night. They quickly accelerated down the deck and into the skies. Their wingmates, 103 and 104 followed soon after. Deciding to meet up at fifteen thousand feet. About one hundred and thirty miles away from their meeting place they lower the engine thrust power to almost idle levels as they almost glided to their destination. They were aloud no radio chatter until they met with the other squadron.
"Ahh, Hawaii. Man, there's a song somewhere that's called "Let's Talk Dirty in Hawaiian" I'm telling you, AWACS, it's absolutely hilarious. About as hilarious as Hawaii is beautiful, man. Makes me wish I had brought my guitar out here, but it didn't fit in my Raptor. Trust me man, I tried. Say the words I long to hear, AWACS! Sing it, baby!"
Jamie was silently laughing, and deliberately on an open channel, so the Vexor Flight people could hear him and know he was in fact in the air. He waggled his wing tips at the United States Navy Carrier USS Pearl Harbor as she and her battle group sailed to meet the Russians. Wolf Flight rocketed past in their F-22's, pained normal gray with the Air Force insignia on one rudder.
"Wolf Lead, this is AWACS. Are you trying to let the Chinese know what's going on, over."
"Awh, come on man, don't do this to me. We both know they got sat pics of the Russkie fleet steaming here. Don't do this, baby. I love you, AWACS! I promise I won't be such a Scots-American from now on!"
"Wolf Lead, your blatant disregard for radio rules and endless inane chatter are damn hilarious, and that's the only thing keeping the Mission Commander up here from ratting your ass out. So you better keep being funny, honey buns."
"Thanks, babe. Oops, gotta go. Looks like Vexor Flight has shown up to party some. Give the Mission Commander a kiss for me, K?" Only the laughter echoing from Jamie and the controller's radios let everyone listening in know that they weren't actually serious. Still shaking his head, Jamie switched to Russian and called a greeting to Vexor Flight, who following rules, unlike Jamie, were maintaining radio silence until contact between the two was made.
"Welcome to this most historic of events, Comrades! After the mission, you have been invited to land at Pearl Harbor and drink with us. I'm providing the drinks, friends. Because we'll be on an American airbase, though, American drinking rules apply. Nothing alcoholic for those under 21. I am deeply sorry, and ask that you please don't shoot me down. I would hate to not to get to know you. I am First Lieutenant James Ian MacRae, United States Air Force. If you would kindly follow me, I propose we fly over bother carriers. Russian first, if you like?" He waggled his wings at them, and his flight dutifully followed suit.
Jamie was silently laughing, and deliberately on an open channel, so the Vexor Flight people could hear him and know he was in fact in the air. He waggled his wing tips at the United States Navy Carrier USS Pearl Harbor as she and her battle group sailed to meet the Russians. Wolf Flight rocketed past in their F-22's, pained normal gray with the Air Force insignia on one rudder.
"Wolf Lead, this is AWACS. Are you trying to let the Chinese know what's going on, over."
"Awh, come on man, don't do this to me. We both know they got sat pics of the Russkie fleet steaming here. Don't do this, baby. I love you, AWACS! I promise I won't be such a Scots-American from now on!"
"Wolf Lead, your blatant disregard for radio rules and endless inane chatter are damn hilarious, and that's the only thing keeping the Mission Commander up here from ratting your ass out. So you better keep being funny, honey buns."
"Thanks, babe. Oops, gotta go. Looks like Vexor Flight has shown up to party some. Give the Mission Commander a kiss for me, K?" Only the laughter echoing from Jamie and the controller's radios let everyone listening in know that they weren't actually serious. Still shaking his head, Jamie switched to Russian and called a greeting to Vexor Flight, who following rules, unlike Jamie, were maintaining radio silence until contact between the two was made.
"Welcome to this most historic of events, Comrades! After the mission, you have been invited to land at Pearl Harbor and drink with us. I'm providing the drinks, friends. Because we'll be on an American airbase, though, American drinking rules apply. Nothing alcoholic for those under 21. I am deeply sorry, and ask that you please don't shoot me down. I would hate to not to get to know you. I am First Lieutenant James Ian MacRae, United States Air Force. If you would kindly follow me, I propose we fly over bother carriers. Russian first, if you like?" He waggled his wings at them, and his flight dutifully followed suit.
The four plane formation of Su-47's glide past the F-22's at near stall speed. Now that they had made visual contact with them they pushed the throttle forward ever so slightly and banked in a lazy large circle, waiting for further orders from their command group. They kept their silence towards their new found allies and kept any stray radio chatter to themselves. It started off simple with Zoya stating a soft command. "Vexor flight,stay in form and maintain a looping circle over this position until our fuel runs to low for us to fly here. Wait for further instruction from command, and keep your guard up." She had to admit no matter how kind and relaxed she was in real life she liked her flight to be strict and professional.
"Roger that 101, wew will stay in form as needed. We are also picking up transmission from the Americans. I don't speak English oh too well but I am guessing they are asking us for some sort of beverage...." Vexor-103, Sasha spoke softly, her 'S' syllables were hissed softly due to her forked tongue and small venomous fangs. "Please advise 101."
"Ignore their communications for now. We have yet to sign the treaty, we never know how trustworthy they can be. Keep your weapons hot and your eat in a swivel." Zoya replies sternly then she looked out the window at the F-22's that seemed to dance though the skies, twitching and wriggling, either in anticipation or excitement. Either way she was far from able to guess what was going though their minds. Letting the rumble of the engines relax her, zoya let her muscles relax and thought to herself. Maybe...jusst maybe. This will be a turning point in the war, Maybe one day we can all return to our countries and live in peace...Beside's It's not like the Americans got attacked on their own land. She Adjusted the trim on her yaw then leaned back a bit, letting her mind drift.
Off to Zoya's left Sasha rocked her wingtips lightly in the low looping turn, she had to admit the Americans could manufacture some mean warbirds. Of all the things she had done in the war, she had never managed a kill on an F-22. She shrugged softly and then continued to observe the warbirds in the sky, it was a beautiful sight, the most graceful machines built, all working in unison for a few moments in time, It gave her chills up her spine.
"Roger that 101, wew will stay in form as needed. We are also picking up transmission from the Americans. I don't speak English oh too well but I am guessing they are asking us for some sort of beverage...." Vexor-103, Sasha spoke softly, her 'S' syllables were hissed softly due to her forked tongue and small venomous fangs. "Please advise 101."
"Ignore their communications for now. We have yet to sign the treaty, we never know how trustworthy they can be. Keep your weapons hot and your eat in a swivel." Zoya replies sternly then she looked out the window at the F-22's that seemed to dance though the skies, twitching and wriggling, either in anticipation or excitement. Either way she was far from able to guess what was going though their minds. Letting the rumble of the engines relax her, zoya let her muscles relax and thought to herself. Maybe...jusst maybe. This will be a turning point in the war, Maybe one day we can all return to our countries and live in peace...Beside's It's not like the Americans got attacked on their own land. She Adjusted the trim on her yaw then leaned back a bit, letting her mind drift.
Off to Zoya's left Sasha rocked her wingtips lightly in the low looping turn, she had to admit the Americans could manufacture some mean warbirds. Of all the things she had done in the war, she had never managed a kill on an F-22. She shrugged softly and then continued to observe the warbirds in the sky, it was a beautiful sight, the most graceful machines built, all working in unison for a few moments in time, It gave her chills up her spine.
"Wolf Lead, this AWACS. Do you surrender the ship, over?" Because Jamie was liked by nearly all he met, he had inside jokes with nearly all of them. Several with this particular AWACS, because the controller that talked to Jamie and his flight was one of Jamie's closest friends, and as such, Jamie had acted as his wing-man at several bars, trying to pick up chicks.
"Sir, I have not yet begun to fight! Care for a drink at the after signing party, man? I invited the Russian Vexor Flight, but they're ignoring me. Must be my charming personality, no?"
"Wolf Lead, do you insist on making a mockery of everything serious?"
"Of course I do, AWACS. Why would I not? Life is meant to be lived at maximum speed, dude. Look, I love you like a brother, but you need to relax. The treaty's gonna get signed, the Russkies are gonna meet up with us, we're gonna boogy on down to Pearl Harbor, and we're gonna get drunk. What else is there to tonight?" Jamie's voice clearly showed he was smiling, even if no one could see him.
"Uh, Wolf and Vexor Flights? I got sixteen bogies headed your way. I bounced them with radar, looks like they're MiG-31's. Their IFF shows Chinese. I have the Mission Commander checking with the Russians and his assistant checking with your commander for orders, Wolf and Vexor Leads." Jamie acknowledged, then split his flight. Two of the six F-22's were down with mechanical problems; the two pilots were on the AWACS making a nuisance of themselves.
"Alright Wolf Flight, split. Rebel and Archer will stay in reserve. Tigger and I will make a pass. They're gonna try and hit us hard, ok? Be prepared to use the Thach Weave a Hell of a lot, over." The F-22's pulled apart as they turned to meet the MiG-31's, and the two that would be reserve climbed, to have the advantage of altitude and the sun in the MiGs' eyes. Jamie and and his wingman throttled up to eight hundred knots, switched to missiles, and let loose all four of them each possessed. The missiles were AIM-120 AMRAMM Slammers, mid-range semi-active radar guided. As the two fighter formation screamed towards the sixteen fighters, the missiles, somewhere in between, were watching the MiG's and adjusting their course in response to the MiGs. Jamie and his wingman triggered their last two missiles each, AIM-9 Sidewinders, short range heat seeking, for a total of twelve missiles in the air. Something went wrong with four of them, but the other eight scored kills or splashed planes. Jamie's reserve dropped down now, and triggered all their missiles. They scored less; the MiGs, now alerted that there were enemies in the air, managed to avoid six of the twelve, leaving two enemy planes for Jamie's four. The MiG's had their missiles, but they were fighting F-22's at close range, with guns now, and Jamie grinned as he let loose a rebel yell.
The last two MiG's turned tail and ran, but the AWACS broke the celebratory cries with more bad news. "Wolf and Vexor Flights, there's a formation of fourteen enemy bombers armed with anti-ship missiles headed your way. Wolf Flight is out of missiles, but has full cannon. Vexor Flight, Wolf Flight will provide cover for you if there are any more enemy fighters while you go after the bombers. You have your orders; those bombers could be headed for the Russian fleet or the American. Wolf Lead, sit rep on your flight's fuel, over."
"We're good, AWACS. Just make sure the Vexors take down those bombers. There's someone on the carrier I want you to meet, buddy." The F-22's formed up at a high altitude, the better to watch for enemy fighters.
"Sir, I have not yet begun to fight! Care for a drink at the after signing party, man? I invited the Russian Vexor Flight, but they're ignoring me. Must be my charming personality, no?"
"Wolf Lead, do you insist on making a mockery of everything serious?"
"Of course I do, AWACS. Why would I not? Life is meant to be lived at maximum speed, dude. Look, I love you like a brother, but you need to relax. The treaty's gonna get signed, the Russkies are gonna meet up with us, we're gonna boogy on down to Pearl Harbor, and we're gonna get drunk. What else is there to tonight?" Jamie's voice clearly showed he was smiling, even if no one could see him.
"Uh, Wolf and Vexor Flights? I got sixteen bogies headed your way. I bounced them with radar, looks like they're MiG-31's. Their IFF shows Chinese. I have the Mission Commander checking with the Russians and his assistant checking with your commander for orders, Wolf and Vexor Leads." Jamie acknowledged, then split his flight. Two of the six F-22's were down with mechanical problems; the two pilots were on the AWACS making a nuisance of themselves.
"Alright Wolf Flight, split. Rebel and Archer will stay in reserve. Tigger and I will make a pass. They're gonna try and hit us hard, ok? Be prepared to use the Thach Weave a Hell of a lot, over." The F-22's pulled apart as they turned to meet the MiG-31's, and the two that would be reserve climbed, to have the advantage of altitude and the sun in the MiGs' eyes. Jamie and and his wingman throttled up to eight hundred knots, switched to missiles, and let loose all four of them each possessed. The missiles were AIM-120 AMRAMM Slammers, mid-range semi-active radar guided. As the two fighter formation screamed towards the sixteen fighters, the missiles, somewhere in between, were watching the MiG's and adjusting their course in response to the MiGs. Jamie and his wingman triggered their last two missiles each, AIM-9 Sidewinders, short range heat seeking, for a total of twelve missiles in the air. Something went wrong with four of them, but the other eight scored kills or splashed planes. Jamie's reserve dropped down now, and triggered all their missiles. They scored less; the MiGs, now alerted that there were enemies in the air, managed to avoid six of the twelve, leaving two enemy planes for Jamie's four. The MiG's had their missiles, but they were fighting F-22's at close range, with guns now, and Jamie grinned as he let loose a rebel yell.
The last two MiG's turned tail and ran, but the AWACS broke the celebratory cries with more bad news. "Wolf and Vexor Flights, there's a formation of fourteen enemy bombers armed with anti-ship missiles headed your way. Wolf Flight is out of missiles, but has full cannon. Vexor Flight, Wolf Flight will provide cover for you if there are any more enemy fighters while you go after the bombers. You have your orders; those bombers could be headed for the Russian fleet or the American. Wolf Lead, sit rep on your flight's fuel, over."
"We're good, AWACS. Just make sure the Vexors take down those bombers. There's someone on the carrier I want you to meet, buddy." The F-22's formed up at a high altitude, the better to watch for enemy fighters.
Vexor flight listened to the radio chatter that the Americans had put out rather blatantly. However they started to receive stray transmissions. Shot ones, one for small under the radar orders. Even worse off Zoya recognized the voices at an infamous MiG-31 Ace squadron. To this very day she had no idea why they would put their top aces in MiG-31's and not the newer J-10's. Either way their tactics eluded her. The sudden chatter about enemy contacts confirmed her suspicions and she waited to see how the Americans would react. Instead of engaging Zoya had her squadron pull up to the altitude of the AWACS and then monitored the MiG's movements with their radar. Apparently something was not right, they would just never stupidly charge, that was the Japaneses job. A new comm came though her helmet, it was Vexor-104 she spoke quickly. "Vexor Lead, Why are we not engaging? We clearly have the skill, missiles and fuel to take them all out."
"Negative 104, we are staying back until further notice. However lock up all the enemies you can with your radar multi-lock missiles and wait for my command to fire. " Zoya instructed quietly. She already knew there were no more foes, but she wanted to study the American battle tactics. Apparently their AWACS, was their eyes. It was a weakness she spotted now and she nodded then looked at her radar scope again. "There are bombers on the prowl....We need to hunt them, accordingly. We don not know who they are heading for but we need to take them down. They should be on our scopes soon enough. Be patient Hydra...we will have our shot in no time."
"Negative 104, we are staying back until further notice. However lock up all the enemies you can with your radar multi-lock missiles and wait for my command to fire. " Zoya instructed quietly. She already knew there were no more foes, but she wanted to study the American battle tactics. Apparently their AWACS, was their eyes. It was a weakness she spotted now and she nodded then looked at her radar scope again. "There are bombers on the prowl....We need to hunt them, accordingly. We don not know who they are heading for but we need to take them down. They should be on our scopes soon enough. Be patient Hydra...we will have our shot in no time."
"Hey Wolfhound, I found the bombers. They're Xian H-6's, copies of the Russian Tu-16. Like the AWACS said, there's fourteen. So we sit here and provide top cover for the Russkies while they bag the fat targets?"
"Affirmative, Rebel. Spirit of international cooperation and all that. Wouldn't want a Second Cold War, would we? We took care of the hard work and now get to let the Russian flight get the easy kills. Unless the bombers have defenses. Then they're hosed." The other pilot waggled his wing at Jamie, signalling acknowledgment of Jamie's words. Jamie brought up his radar, transforming from an air-superiority fighter to a mini-AWACS with weapons and the abilities of an air-superiority fighter. The flight of F-22's cruised along in a racetrack pattern, one element going one way, the other going the opposite direction. Because it was so easy, it allowed Jamie to watch the Russian Su-47's go after the Chinese H-6's. He poked the screen to try and get a better resolution, but sighed when it didn't work. He had figured it wouldn't.
"Affirmative, Rebel. Spirit of international cooperation and all that. Wouldn't want a Second Cold War, would we? We took care of the hard work and now get to let the Russian flight get the easy kills. Unless the bombers have defenses. Then they're hosed." The other pilot waggled his wing at Jamie, signalling acknowledgment of Jamie's words. Jamie brought up his radar, transforming from an air-superiority fighter to a mini-AWACS with weapons and the abilities of an air-superiority fighter. The flight of F-22's cruised along in a racetrack pattern, one element going one way, the other going the opposite direction. Because it was so easy, it allowed Jamie to watch the Russian Su-47's go after the Chinese H-6's. He poked the screen to try and get a better resolution, but sighed when it didn't work. He had figured it wouldn't.
As the small sortie progressed they waited for their prey, and listened to their American 'team mates' Chatter. Not too much longer Vexor-104 called out. "Enemy bombers located. Bearing south-east towards our position. I'm tracking heavy jamminm. They are probably equipped with rather heavy jamming equipment. I'm also seeing three escorts, lead."
Zoya flicked her ears in her helmet as he tail thumped her leg inside of the G-suit. "Okay then, 104 and 102, engage head ono with the bombers. 103 and myself will cover from above." She glanced out the window and then started to ascend, and as she did she stated softly, making sure to use her utmost slang and bad Russian to confuse any translators the Americans had. "Okay ladies. Let's show the Americans how we dance with the angels." She pushed her engine throttle up into full throttle and waited calmly for the other two to make their assault on the bombers.
Zasz and her wingmate, Sasha, attacked head on into the bombers. The heavy jamming aloud no missile tracks from their aircraft so they had to do what they had mastered by themselves. Run and gun. Zasz eyed the bombers as they closed in, her hand poised to pull the trigger of the 30mm cannon. While they approached she quickly ordered her wingmate into a new position. "Take position a kilometer to the north-east then attack. We might as well make this a bit more interesting." A quick reply buzzled into her headset. "Roger that. I'm on the way." Her wiingmate broke off and circled around the formation as she attacked from the front. The sky seemed to light up as small bursts of tracers arched tough the skies, followed bu flashed of bright white phosphorous flashes caused by impacts and detonations of the ammo spent. On the first pass the two downed four of the bombers and as they did the three J-10's engaged them. However, as the J-10's engaged them, from the sides, and one from below. 102 and 104 broke hard and rolled away, seeming to run for a few seconds. As they did 101 and 103 came down from above in a screaming bower dive.
Zoya had already lined up her prey, but she wanted an actual dogfight. Something that would give her a challenge, maybe. Her voice held a more aggressive hint to it, now that they were actually engaged. "103, take down the one on your right, i'l take the left. But the last one is mine." Then she squeezed the trigger sending a hail of cannon fire down at the left J-10, Just as Sasha had done the same. both J-10's burst into flame and start to plummet. On the downside 102 and 104 had sharply pulled back around and took down two more bombers and then arched their trajectory away from the bombers that had now turned to flee, as they jettisoned their payloads. Back on the upside Sasha had puled out of the dive and strafed a passing bomber, just to make a point then she looked over her shoulder and watched Zoya engage the last J-10 who would not run away. the J-10 had pulled up violently to avoid being gunned down, making the classic maneuver to initiate a dogfight, he pulled up into her dive and then rolled inverted once they passed, then pulled back hard to try to get on her six. Zoya had reacted roughly the same except instead of pulling into a tight Split-S she knife edged the wings and yanked back into a tight turn, almost drifting the aircraft around to catch her prey. The J-10 had pulled out of the split-S and mimicked the maneuver she had pulled. Zoya laughed softly and shook her head,this was going too be far to easy. She dropped the throttle and spun the aircraft again. The spin would disorient any normal pilot but she had used it many times before. As the aircraft spun, the nose passed by her foe, and she squeezed the trigger, sending a stream of cannon shells at the J-10. All of the bullets miss, except one. The one that punctured the cockpit and killed the pilot, almost instantly, leaving the J-10 to fall lazily from the syk. Zoya let out a small scoff. "Cake. Vexor form up back at fifteen thousand feet and await further instruction."
"Roger that lead, we re on our six." Came the reply form her wingmates as they formed up and dropped down to their designated location once again.
Zoya flicked her ears in her helmet as he tail thumped her leg inside of the G-suit. "Okay then, 104 and 102, engage head ono with the bombers. 103 and myself will cover from above." She glanced out the window and then started to ascend, and as she did she stated softly, making sure to use her utmost slang and bad Russian to confuse any translators the Americans had. "Okay ladies. Let's show the Americans how we dance with the angels." She pushed her engine throttle up into full throttle and waited calmly for the other two to make their assault on the bombers.
Zasz and her wingmate, Sasha, attacked head on into the bombers. The heavy jamming aloud no missile tracks from their aircraft so they had to do what they had mastered by themselves. Run and gun. Zasz eyed the bombers as they closed in, her hand poised to pull the trigger of the 30mm cannon. While they approached she quickly ordered her wingmate into a new position. "Take position a kilometer to the north-east then attack. We might as well make this a bit more interesting." A quick reply buzzled into her headset. "Roger that. I'm on the way." Her wiingmate broke off and circled around the formation as she attacked from the front. The sky seemed to light up as small bursts of tracers arched tough the skies, followed bu flashed of bright white phosphorous flashes caused by impacts and detonations of the ammo spent. On the first pass the two downed four of the bombers and as they did the three J-10's engaged them. However, as the J-10's engaged them, from the sides, and one from below. 102 and 104 broke hard and rolled away, seeming to run for a few seconds. As they did 101 and 103 came down from above in a screaming bower dive.
Zoya had already lined up her prey, but she wanted an actual dogfight. Something that would give her a challenge, maybe. Her voice held a more aggressive hint to it, now that they were actually engaged. "103, take down the one on your right, i'l take the left. But the last one is mine." Then she squeezed the trigger sending a hail of cannon fire down at the left J-10, Just as Sasha had done the same. both J-10's burst into flame and start to plummet. On the downside 102 and 104 had sharply pulled back around and took down two more bombers and then arched their trajectory away from the bombers that had now turned to flee, as they jettisoned their payloads. Back on the upside Sasha had puled out of the dive and strafed a passing bomber, just to make a point then she looked over her shoulder and watched Zoya engage the last J-10 who would not run away. the J-10 had pulled up violently to avoid being gunned down, making the classic maneuver to initiate a dogfight, he pulled up into her dive and then rolled inverted once they passed, then pulled back hard to try to get on her six. Zoya had reacted roughly the same except instead of pulling into a tight Split-S she knife edged the wings and yanked back into a tight turn, almost drifting the aircraft around to catch her prey. The J-10 had pulled out of the split-S and mimicked the maneuver she had pulled. Zoya laughed softly and shook her head,this was going too be far to easy. She dropped the throttle and spun the aircraft again. The spin would disorient any normal pilot but she had used it many times before. As the aircraft spun, the nose passed by her foe, and she squeezed the trigger, sending a stream of cannon shells at the J-10. All of the bullets miss, except one. The one that punctured the cockpit and killed the pilot, almost instantly, leaving the J-10 to fall lazily from the syk. Zoya let out a small scoff. "Cake. Vexor form up back at fifteen thousand feet and await further instruction."
"Roger that lead, we re on our six." Came the reply form her wingmates as they formed up and dropped down to their designated location once again.
Jamie's radar went out, and he swore. The bombers had jammers mixed in among them. "AWACS, this is Wolf Lead. You know they have jammers? All right, here's what I propose we do to help out our Russian friends. Your radar is more powerful than mine, but can I transmit my picture to allies?"
"Affirmative, Wolf Lead. You have to make sure they're willing to receive, but if they are, yeah, you can transmit your radar picture to 'em. You know how?"
"Yeah, AWACS, I know how. I was just making sure. All right, burn through their jammers with your radar, and once my picture clears, I'll transmit to the Russians."
"Roger that, Wolf Lead." The AWACS controller boosted output from his radar, a rotodome on the back of the E-3 Sentry, from "not dangerous" to "dangerous levels of radiation", and that burned through the jamming of the H-6's, allowing Jamie's F-22's radar picture to clear. He climbed to the altitude the AWACS was at, allowing him to get a pretty good observational view of the battle-space, and there he attempted to talk to his Russian counterpart.
"Uh, Vexor Lead, this is Wolf Lead. I have our AWACS burning through their jamming, but that won't do you any good because your radar system isn't linked to ours. I can, however, transmit what's going on on my radar to you. I need permission to do so, though. Eventually you'll run out of cannon ammo, and your missiles won't do any good if your radar picture is all buggered up, over." Jamie began working his radar to transmit to the Russians, anyway. If they said no, he could always claim their accent was bad. If they said yes, he could keep working. To the plane, he said; "F-22, this is the pilot, First Lieutenant MacRae. Set auto-pilot to loop the last three minutes of flight for the next fifteen minutes. If something happens, let me know. Now walk me through adjusting our radar to beam to four Russian made and piloted Su-47's."
A soft, female voice piped through Jamie's helmet. "Welcome, Lieutenant MacRae. Please remain calm while your orders are processed. Flight plan, accepted. Technical aid request, accepted. I'll take care of the radar issue for you while you fly the plane, sir." The AI in his plane's computer, something not many pilots had been willing to risk, was as good as its word. While it waited for Jamie to receive approval or denial from the Russians, Jamie watched the Su-47's take care of the escorts before his flight had the opportunity to, and then watched as they switched to the bombers.
"Affirmative, Wolf Lead. You have to make sure they're willing to receive, but if they are, yeah, you can transmit your radar picture to 'em. You know how?"
"Yeah, AWACS, I know how. I was just making sure. All right, burn through their jammers with your radar, and once my picture clears, I'll transmit to the Russians."
"Roger that, Wolf Lead." The AWACS controller boosted output from his radar, a rotodome on the back of the E-3 Sentry, from "not dangerous" to "dangerous levels of radiation", and that burned through the jamming of the H-6's, allowing Jamie's F-22's radar picture to clear. He climbed to the altitude the AWACS was at, allowing him to get a pretty good observational view of the battle-space, and there he attempted to talk to his Russian counterpart.
"Uh, Vexor Lead, this is Wolf Lead. I have our AWACS burning through their jamming, but that won't do you any good because your radar system isn't linked to ours. I can, however, transmit what's going on on my radar to you. I need permission to do so, though. Eventually you'll run out of cannon ammo, and your missiles won't do any good if your radar picture is all buggered up, over." Jamie began working his radar to transmit to the Russians, anyway. If they said no, he could always claim their accent was bad. If they said yes, he could keep working. To the plane, he said; "F-22, this is the pilot, First Lieutenant MacRae. Set auto-pilot to loop the last three minutes of flight for the next fifteen minutes. If something happens, let me know. Now walk me through adjusting our radar to beam to four Russian made and piloted Su-47's."
A soft, female voice piped through Jamie's helmet. "Welcome, Lieutenant MacRae. Please remain calm while your orders are processed. Flight plan, accepted. Technical aid request, accepted. I'll take care of the radar issue for you while you fly the plane, sir." The AI in his plane's computer, something not many pilots had been willing to risk, was as good as its word. While it waited for Jamie to receive approval or denial from the Russians, Jamie watched the Su-47's take care of the escorts before his flight had the opportunity to, and then watched as they switched to the bombers.
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