“Black Leader, Mother; come to course zero-four-zero, rapid ascent to 6500 meters, weapons free; rear-hemispheric approach.”
“Holy shit!” Franklin said aloud. “That’s about twenty thousand feet.”
Franklin pushed his transmit button, glancing once to ensure he was on the formation frequency. “Pickles, we’re the bait. The damn British are using us as bait!”
“Bait?”
“Yeah, bait. The J-12s are going to see us, if they haven’t already, and they’re going to come right at us.”
“Good,” Johnson said emphatically. “I’m glad something’s about to happen. I’m tired of this chasing.”
“Chasing? We just saw them a second ago.”
“A second here, a second there, and the next thing you know you’re talking real time.”
She sounded almost giddy with anticipation.
“There’s a third one out there somewhere,” Franklin added. “No, there are four more out here. We’ve just got one formation. There’s another formation with three aircraft.”
“Then where’s the third one of this formation?” Franklin asked.
“Probably near the two we saw.”
Franklin leaned as far forward as the straps allowed and glanced behind him and to his sides. The air was clear as far as his quick glance could tell. But he knew it meant nothing. Aircraft were hard to spot unless you knew exactly where to look or something such as a sunlight reflection or contrail gave them away. Then, you wondered why you didn’t see them in the first place.
“Looks as if we are going to be the first to engage,” he said. “Captain Franklin, someone always has to be the first to engage. We’re not bait. We are the best of the fighters out here. If someone has to distract them, then it should be us. Think of us as more of the first wave to splash their silly asses.” “Black Formation, this is Mother; steady up at altitude 6200 meters. You are fifteen miles from bandits. Raptor Formation, you have weapons free, and we hold you ten miles from bandits. You are authorized to engage at your convenience.”
As Franklin watched, contrails emerged from the rear of the two Chinese fighters as the bandits turned right, heading directly toward them. No doubt about it. They were going to be the first on the scene. Damn! He hoped Black Formation wasn’t too far behind them.
“We count two bandits,” Johnson broadcast.
Suddenly, Mother erupted over the tactical frequency. “Weapons tight! Weapons tight! I say again to all formations, weapons tight!”
Weapons tight! What the hell was the AIC thinking? The Chinese were coming right at them and they couldn’t fire? Franklin reached up to turn the weapons switch off. An inch from the switch, his fingers rubbed together, and then he returned to flying the aircraft. If he needed to fire a missile, it would only take a quick flick of the wrist, and he wouldn’t have to rearm the weapons system. It achieved the same thing, and besides, the AIC only said, “Weapons tight”; he did not say to turn the weapon system off.
“Mother, Raptor Leader; I have three bandits dead ahead approaching. Request weapons free.”
“Raptor Leader, request denied. Orders are weapons tight. You are authorized to fire only if they fire on you first.”
In a near scream, Johnson shouted, “They have already fired on us. They shot twelve missiles at Weasel.”
“Negative, Raptor Leader, twelve bogies were in the air that we interpreted as missiles. We have no confirmation they were missiles.”
“Weasel said…”
“Raptor Leader, Mother; descend to angels thirteen immediately, diving turn to the right.”
Without thought, Franklin flipped his fighter to the side. In front and on his right, Johnson’s fighter dove also. In tandem formation, the two Raptor fighters headed nearly vertically toward the new altitude. Why in the hell they were diving, he had no idea. Without warning, a single bandit emerged through the sparse cloud cover at twelve thousand feet in a rolling turn, heading upward toward them.
Johnson broke right, Franklin left. The Chinese fighter zipped between them. The turbulence of the air wake shook Franklin’s aircraft as the bandit passed behind him.
“Steady at current altitude,” the AIC ordered.
Franklin pulled back sharply on the stick, leveling the aircraft up.
It was the missing third J-12 of the approaching formation. If they had not been in a rolling dive, the Chinese would have surprised them from the rear. How in the hell did the British know where the Chinese fighter was? They were stealth fighters and neither he nor any of the other Raptor pilots knew where the J-12s were. Must be an overhead something or other they were using, he told himself. When mysterious stuff happens, it’s always the eyes in the sky that know the truth. “What the fuck!” Franklin shouted.
“Keep off the circuit!” Johnson shouted back. “Reform, level up. I have angels ten.”
“Raptor Leader Formation, report status.”
“One Chinese fighter came up beneath us, Mother. We do not have a visual. Believe we have lost him. He was ascending when we passed. Request weapons free to engage.” “Negative, Raptor Leader. You are at angels ten; steady up at current altitude and report. Turn to course one-six-zero. Formation of three J-12s is attempting rear-hemispheric approach on your formation. Follow my orders explicitly, please.” “Roger, Mother. Steady at ten thousand feet.”
Franklin eased up on the left of Johnson’s aircraft, slightly to the rear of her aircraft about one aircraft length. She started to turn left; he turned left with her, trying to keep her in sight as his view of her became obstructed in the turn.
“Black Leader, increase speed. Raptor Formation is about to engage. You will be coming from above. For both formations, please do not collide with each other. Raptor, you are occupying the horizontal plane in this engagement. Black Formation will be shooting through on the vertical. If both will listen to my instructions, we will send the Chinese running for cover with their tails between their legs.”
“How about we send them swimming for the coast?” Franklin asked himself.
“I see the Chinese fighters,” Johnson broadcast. “They are approaching our left side. About ten miles from us.”
“Roger, Raptor Leader; they are in the system. You should be seeing them on your display.”
“That’s a negative, Mother. I have nothing on my display since the visual we reported earlier.”
Suddenly, on the display, the three bandits appeared. There was no radar video return beneath the hostile icons, but at least it gave Franklin some satisfaction as to where they were.
“Raptor-10 Formation, this is Mother. You are to start descent and close the engagement area to twenty-five miles.” “Roger,” Crawford acknowledged.
“Glad someone remembered the reserves.”
“Raptor-20 Formation, request you increase your speed. Steady up on course two-four-zero, angels fourteen.”
“Mother, Raptor Leader; this will increase separation between us and Raptor-20 Formation.”
“Roger, Raptor Leader; that is my intention.”
The British had the skies filled with aircraft and from the voice of the Air Intercept Controller, you would think it was a bright afternoon walk through Hyde Park. No excitement in his voice. Everything calm. Maybe the AIC was coming from the pub. Franklin knew they had pubs on board Royal Navy ships. From what the Navy officers on board Sea Base told him, every Navy in the world but the American Navy had pubs on them. Places to have an after-work drink and build camaraderie. When this was over, he could use a little camaraderie-building.
“Mother, Raptor Leader; steady on course one-six-zero, angels ten.”
“Roger, sharp ascent to angels sixteen, please. That is angels sixteen in feet.”