The missile-impact estimate on his HUD kept counting down. When it flickered to 4 seconds, he snapped, “Countermeasures!” Nadia’s finger stabbed at her display. Brad yanked the XCV-62 upward into a hard, tight, climbing turn — briefly handling the Iron Wolf aircraft more like it was a fighter jet than a transport. G-forces slammed him back against his seat. The color started to leach out of his vision, turning the world gray. The Ranger soared skyward, trading airspeed for altitude as it climbed.
Dozens of flares streamed out behind them, each a miniature sunburst against the black sky.
Decoyed away, the first Russian missile veered off toward one of the tumbling points of fire and detonated. Slowing visibly, the second K-74 swung through the flare cloud and chased after the Iron Wolf transport as it climbed and turned. Every turn it made in a vain effort to home in on the evading aircraft ate more energy, until at last, out of airspeed and at the extent of its range, the Russian missile fell away — plummeting toward the darkened earth several thousand feet below.
Instantly, Brad rolled out of the climb and dove back toward the ground, again heading east toward the Urals. He throttled back to reduce their heat signature, allowing gravity to accelerate them as they plunged back down.
“Warning, warning, X-band radar locked on,” the computer said.
Shit, Brad thought. He kept his eyes on the altitude reading sliding down the edge of his HUD. Five thousand feet. Four thousand feet.
“Engaging X-band radar,” Nadia said from beside him. She tapped a display, directing their SPEAR system to try to jam or spoof the Russian airborne radar that had them zeroed in. “I show two Su-50s on our thermal sensors,” she continued coolly. “They are fourteen miles behind us and closing at high speed.”
“Understood,” Brad said tightly. Suddenly his “brilliant” plan to backtrack deeper into the Urals didn’t look quite as smart. There was no way he could outrun those enemy fighters. And how the hell was he going to outmaneuver them in this crate? The XCV-62 handled beautifully for a transport aircraft, but she wasn’t built for dogfighting. That 4-g turn he’d just pulled was right at the edge of her performance envelope. In contrast, the Su-50s now in hot pursuit were some of the most maneuverable combat aircraft in the world.
The Ranger streaked east, still losing altitude fast. Three thousand feet. Twenty-five hundred feet. They roared low over a steep-sided ridge and dropped behind it. A wide valley opened up before them, running northeast deeper into the Urals. Brad rolled left to follow it.
“X-band radar lock broken,” the computer reported.
With that ridge crest between them and the Russians, they had a few moments’ grace. It wouldn’t last long, he realized. Those enemy fighters had two options, both equally dangerous: If their pilots were aggressive, they could go for a balls-out chase through this maze of ice and snow, relying on superior speed and maneuverability to close in for a better IR missile shot… or even drive into knife-fight range for a gun kill, using their 30mm cannons. If they were cagey, the Russian pilots could go high, using their powerful radars and IRST systems to cover every possible escape route out of the mountains. That way they could either vector in other fighters to finish the job — or make the kill themselves with long-range, radar-guided missiles as soon as fuel constraints forced Brad to break back west… out of cover.
“One Su-50 just popped over that ridge and is now dead astern,” Nadia said. She had one of her displays cued to their rear-facing thermal sensors. “Range is now eight miles. The trailing Russian aircraft is one mile behind the leader.”
That meant they’d decided to chase him down themselves, Brad figured. That was no great surprise. That first long-range shot they’d taken at him signaled that these guys were aggressive as hell. A sharp tone from their SPEAR threat-warning system sounded in his headset. At this range, those X-band radars probably had him painted again. And the IRST systems carried by those enemy fighters certainly did.
He rolled back right, turning tightly down another gorge running east between two serrated spurs. The threat-warning tone cut off. More high ground rose steeply about three miles ahead, where this valley bent sharply back to the southeast.
“We can’t run. We can’t fight. And we can’t hide forever,” he muttered. “Which leaves—”
“Deception,” Nadia finished for him.
“Exactly,” Brad said. He slammed the Ranger into another tight, 3-g turn, following the trace of the gorge as it veered right. There, about five miles ahead, a rugged mountain summit soared sharply, sharp-edged in white snow and gray rock against the black, star-spangled night sky.
“I am laying in an evasion course for MALD One,” Nadia said, straining forward against the g-forces to input commands on her display. “General heading?”
“East and then north,” Brad told her. He flew on straight toward that huge peak. The mountain grew larger and larger with frightening speed — spreading across the XCV-62’s windscreen until it filled it completely.
“Course programmed,” Nadia told him. Another warning tone sounded from SPEAR. “The lead Su-50 is now six miles astern and turning after us,” she said. “He could fire at any moment.”
Brad shook his head. “That guy already fired his only two heat-seekers at us. It’s the trailer we have to worry about.” His eyes narrowed, completely focused on the steep slope looming ahead. He could make out huge boulders now, half buried in ice and snow. This was going to be close… very, very close.
At almost the last possible moment, he pulled back sharply on the Ranger’s stick — yanking the aircraft into a near-vertical climb. His left hand shoved the throttles forward, running the engines up to full military power. They soared skyward at high speed, roaring above the slope with just a few feet to spare. Another glistening rooster tail of swirling snow fanned out in their wake.
Still flying at more than four hundred knots, they cleared the top of the peak. Instantly, Brad rolled right almost inverted, causing the Ranger’s nose to tuck sharply down the other side into a wide valley. Negative g’s tugged him forward against his shoulder straps.
The warbling tone from their SPEAR system went silent. He’d put the massive bulk of that mountain and its millions of tons of rock between them and those pursuing Su-50s. They had maybe thirty seconds before the Russians could pick them up again.
Brad rolled back wings level and cried, “Launch the MALD!”
Nadia stabbed her display. “Launching!”
Bay doors whined open, and a small ADM-160B decoy dropped away from the Ranger. Its small wings unfolded as it launched. Then, powered by an ultralight turbojet engine, the MALD veered away, jinking wildly as it flew northeast above the mountain slopes. It went active, mimicking the radar signature and flight profile of their XCV-62.
Immediately Brad rolled away and dove, following the trace of the valley opening before them as it curved back west around the mountain. He throttled back to minimum power to cut their heat signature as much as possible. The roar from their engines faded away, replaced by the eerie, keening sound of wind as they glided down and down — slanting toward the ground at high speed. The needle-sharp tops of pine trees reached out toward them.
Far behind and above them, two blinding flashes lit the sky.
“Missile launch!” Nadia shouted. The leading Su-50 had fired K-77 radar-guided missiles at the fleeing MALD. Both missiles slashed through the darkness, curving northeast as they guided on their target.
Seconds later, another explosion seared the darkness. Bits and pieces of flaming debris tumbled toward the earth — scattering widely across the boulder-strewn slopes of another mountain spur miles away.