Thor counted to three, then pickled off his own load, breaking left just as gravity wrenched the last one off his wings. He felt the Hornet jolt upward, the engine’s power now applied just to airframe, fuel load and pilot without the heavy weapons.
Thor came around hard, standing the Hornet on its wingtip until he reached the reciprocal course. The Tomcats were high above him now and still climbing, each one gouting afterburner fire out of its tailpipes. He followed them up, increasing his rate of ascent in order to try to avoid their jet wash. He caught a flash of steel off to his right as his wingman followed.
“How’d it look?” he asked the other Hornet.
“Good hit, good hit,” the younger officer said, his enthusiasm patent in his voice. “Man, if I could have pulled a run like that in the pipeline, I’d be a fucking general by now.”
“Yeah, felt solid to me,” Thor said. They’d have to wait for the BDA but he was willing to stake some mighty stiff drinks on being dead on target.
“Cut the chatter,” Tomcat Lead ordered, his voice harsh. “We got some problems.”
“You hit?” Thor asked. He hadn’t seen any antiair installations except the two the HARMS had taken out, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been any. Still, Lead could have called out a warning as soon as he’d—
“No, not that. Button two,” Lead ordered.
Thor clicked over to the private circuit in use only between the American aircraft. It was encrypted, ensuring that anyone scanning the frequencies couldn’t pick up their conversation. “What gives?” he asked.
“Looks like we got a problem with the Greeks,” Lead said. “Look at their disposition. Doesn’t look to me like they’re wanting to tank and head home.”
Thor glanced down at his fuel indicator. Not critical yet, but lower than he liked. He swore silently at himself for pulling the hot dog maneuvers with the steep angle of ascent as they’d left the airfield.
“They’re high-low,” Lead continued. “And they’re not RTB as briefed. They’re sitting there in a fighter sponge like they’re waiting for someone. One guess as to who that might be.”
“What the hell are they doing?” Thor asked. “Surely they’re not—” The hard warble of his ESM gear cut him off, the tone indicating that it had detected radar guidance signals from an air-to-air missile.
SIXTEEN
Greek Army Captain Simeon twisted in his cockpit, unable to hold still under the force of the clear, burning rage coursing through his body. He’d known Helios since their earliest days in the Air Force, had gone through all phases up to and including advanced combat fighter tactics together. They’d fought together, drank together, and chased women for the better part of seven years.
All that ended now, Helios’s life snuffed out in the most cowardly attack that he’d ever witnessed.
Not that he’d actually seen it. Helios had been at the tail end of the Greek wave of aircraft. Just as the base had made the first report of the American’s treachery, there’d been a brief, confused sputter from his own ESM gear. His backseater had been howling and he’d slammed his own aircraft up into as steep a climb as he could coax out of the Tomcat. Altitude meant room to maneuver, and while diving for the deck might be an acceptable counter-missile technique, no pilot he knew ever wanted to start an engagement so short on elbow room.
Now, with the rest of his aircraft sorting themselves out, their orbit intervals and altitude separation gradually obtaining some semblance of order, Simeon had a few moments to think.
“You saw it?” he asked his backseater over the ICS.
“I think so. Something that looked like a missile anyway. But General Arkady, he said it came from the American ship. The bearing was all wrong — it was coming from further inland, not from the sea. Besides, if it had been from the ship, I would have seen it for much longer time.”
“Inland? You’re certain?”
“Yes. But the detection was so short”—Simeon could hear the mental shrug—“I could be wrong. I probably am. If the generals says…”
If the general says it came from the sea, then it did. Neither of us would survive reporting data that contradicts his orders. Simeon knew that was exactly what his backseater was thinking.
“A malfunction in your radar,” he announced.
“Yes, of course,” the backseater said quietly. “But Simeon, these orders… do we truly want to attack the Americans now? After they’ve just flown a mission with us?”
More than anything in the world, Simeon did not. Yet caught between the Americans behind him and General Arkady ahead of him, there simply was no choice. Better to die here than to face what would greet him on the ground if he returned without following the general’s orders.
Or trying to obey them, at least. Simeon had no great illusions about the damage he could do to the men and women in the aircraft behind him. Americans had built the Tomcat, knew its power and capabilities better than any other nation on earth. Their aircraft would be just as potent — even more so, since there were certain capabilities built into the American aircraft that were not available on the export models. The Greeks had tried to make up for that by cobbling together some systems they’d bought from Russia, but the results had been far from satisfactory and had resulted in intermittent errors just like the one he’d concocted to explain his backseater’s missile detection.
Simeon heard silence on the tactical circuit as the rest of the men orbited and waited for him to decide what to do.
As though he had a choice. He took a deep breath and toggled the microphone on. “You heard the general’s orders. Maintain separation and avoid interfering with each other’s shots. Weapons free on all American targets.”
Someone snorted and did not identify themselves, although Simeon thought he could identify the person. “Weapons free. Which weapons would that be exactly, Lead?” They’d left the airfield with a minimal antiair loadout, configured as Bombcats for this particular mission. Each aircraft carried one Sidewinder and one Sparrow, along with a full magazine of rounds for the gun.
The general hadn’t thought of everything, now had he?
At least the American Tomcats were in no better shape. And at least they knew what sort of fight to expect. Except for the Hornets… now there was a nasty little addition to the problem. The Tomcat airframes were heavy and powerful, and they’d be forced by wing loading considerations to fight the same fight. The lighter, more maneuverable Hornets were a different problem altogether.
“We use what we’ve got,” Simeon announced. “Call your target.”
From the intelligence compartment next to TFCC, Lab Rat watched the Greek fighters peel out of their strikes waves. Before they’d even formed up into fighting teams, he tapped the TAO on the shoulder. “Call Admiral Wayne. Tell him it’s urgent.”
Tombstone Magruder was flanked by six guards as he entered the command post. The look on his face would have caused most officers to break out into a cold sweat and start planning their civilian careers. Yet General Arkady merely waved a congenial greeting and beckoned him over to stand before the radar screen.
“What is the meaning of this?” Tombstone demanded, his voice even colder than the expression on his face.