“Don’t let them get within mortar or antitank range, Muck.”
“Don’t worry, Dave,” Patrick said. He aimed his rifle and fired. A streak of blue-yellow vapor ripped through the night sky, followed by a supersonic CCRRAACCKK! as loud as a thunderclap. The sausage-size hypersonic projectile pierced the front of the launch, passing between the launch captain and helmsman and barely missing one commando, before passing through the deck, right through the diesel engine, out the bottom near the stem, and through one hundred and fifty feet of seawater before burying itself seventy-five feet in the bottom of the Black Sea. The launch’s engine sputtered, coughed, and died within seconds. The automatic bilge pumps activated as the water in the bilges started to get deeper. Soon, the commandos and the crew were scurrying for life preservers.
“Target neutralized,” Luger radioed. “He’s dead in the water. Good shooting, Muck. I’m going to recall AALF for refueling. That destroyer won’t be back in gun range before AALF gets refueled.”
“Roger,” Patrick responded. “We’re working on rigging auxiliary control for remote operation. Stay in touch. You should be expecting company any minute.”
“We’re ready for them. Texas out.” Luger entered commands into the computer.
AALF stopped making false attacks on the Russian destroyer Besstrashny and headed back to the DC-10. It automatically began an approach behind the launch aircraft. Luger extended a refueling probe, much like a U.S. Air Force KC- 10 Extender tanker, and, using its onboard radar as well as following laser steering signals from the DC-10, AALF flew itself toward the refueling probe. A small receptacle popped open on the upper portion of its fuselage, it guided itself into position, and the drone flew itself into contact with the probe. Mechanical clamps secured the drone onto the probe, and it began taking on jet fuel directly from the DC-10’s fuel tanks.
But while AALF was attached to the DC-10’s refueling probe, the crew was in its most vulnerable position — and AALF’s approach had been watched and plotted by Russian ground-based and airborne radars. Minutes after AALF attached itself to the probe, threat-warning receivers on board the DC-10 bleeped to life. “Russian MiG-27s, bearing zero-seven-zero, forty-seven miles, coming in fast!” the sensor technician shouted. “We’ve got company!”
“I’m detaching AALF and sending it after them,” Luger said. “Jon, tell the flight crew to get us out of here ASAP.” Luger entered instructions into AALF’s computerized brain, and the little craft detached itself from the refueling probe, drifted behind and away from the DC-10, then turned and flew toward the oncoming MiGs. The DC- 10 turned northwest and headed for the Ukrainian coast.
AALF was a small aircraft, much smaller than a MiG-27, but it had been built for speed and maneuverability, not stealth. It detected the MiG’s radar-guided missile attacks, evaded the first salvo, and flew close enough to the pack to cause them to break formation and scatter. But there were too many Russians versus one unarmed aircraft, and no matter how smart, fast, and maneuverable it was, it couldn’t evade its attackers and protect the DC-10 at the same time. When it turned to pursue two MiGs that had pressed their attack westward toward the DC-10, two more MiGs managed to bracket it from behind and kill it with a heat-seeking-missile shot.
“Those MiGs got past AALF,” the sensor operator said. “They’re on our six, thirty-nine miles and closing fast.”
The two MiG-27s in the lead had shot their two long-range radar-guided missiles at the drone already, so they had to continue to close in on the DC-10 for a heat-seeking-missile shot. But they had orders to get a visual ID on the aircraft first, so they continued inside missile range. They closed the distance quickly — their quarry was obviously very large and not very maneuverable, with three big engines glowing bright enough to be seen ten kilometers away on the IRSTS infrared sensor. The pilot of the lead MiG could feel buffeting and hear the engine roar from five kilometers away. This aircraft had to be big to create turbulence like that! He flew a bit farther to one side, out of the turbulent air, and continued. Just a few more seconds and he’d—
Suddenly the Russian MiG pilot’s threat warning indicators lit up like a holiday centerpiece. They were surrounded by fighters! Where did they come from? Who …?
“Attention, attention, unidentified MiG-27 aircraft at our twelve o’clock position,” the MiG pilots heard in fluent Russian, “this is Eskadril Twenty-seven, Six-twenty-six Polk, Odessa, Viyskovo-Povitryani Syly, Air Force of Ukraine. You are in violation of Ukrainian airspace. You will turn right immediately to head south, decelerate, and lower your landing gear, or you will be attacked without further warning.”
“Twenty-seventh Squadron, this is the Ninety-first Squadron, Novorossiysk, Air Force of the Russian Federation,” the lead MiG-27 pilot replied. “We are in pursuit of unidentified hostile combat aircraft that attacked a Russian tanker and a Russian Federation Navy destroyer. The unidentified hostile is at our twelve o’clock position. We request your help to pursue and identify this hostile. Over.”
In response, the MiG-27 on the leader’s right wing exploded in a ball of fire.
The Russian pilot couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. “You … you shot down my wingman!” he cried on the radio. “You bastards! How could you do this? We are allies! We are neighbors!”
“Negative, Russian MiG, negative!” the Ukrainian pilot responded. “Turn starboard right now or you will be destroyed!”
“You cannot do this! This is not permitted!”
“You will be fish food if you do not comply immediately!” the Ukrainian pilot responded. “Turn now!”
He had no other choice. The MiG-27 pilot pushed his control stick right and pulled his throttle back a few notches. The large unidentified aircraft quickly disappeared from his IRSTS sensor. He thought about turning and trying a missile snapshot at the aircraft — but at that exact moment, he saw a burst of cannon fire shoot from a fighter just a few meters off his left side. The damned Ukrainian fighter was right there! The threat warning receiver counted six more aircraft in the vicinity. “Flaps and gear, or you will be shot down!” the Ukrainian warned him. He had no choice but to comply. With his flaps and landing gear down, his fire control system automatically shut itself down.
“Bastards!” the Russian pilot shouted. “What do you think you’re doing? We have permission to overfly Ukrainian airspace when necessary for defense purposes! Aren’t you familiar with our memorandum of understanding? We are allies!”
“Not anymore, we’re not,” the Ukrainian responded. “The Russian Federation is no longer welcome over Ukrainian airspace.”
“What in hell are you talking about? Russia has the right to fly over the Black Sea or anywhere else we choose.”
“This airspace belongs to the Black Sea Alliance,” the Ukrainian pilot said. “Russian warplanes are not welcome over Alliance airspace.”
“The what? What Black Sea Alliance?”
“This,” came a different voice. The Russian pilot looked. The aircraft off his left wing turned its identification lights on…
… and revealed itself not as a Ukrainian fighter, but as a Turkish F-16 fighter! It still wore the star and crescent of Turkey, but it wore the blue and gold of the Republic of Ukraine on its tail as well!
“Left turn smartly heading one-eight-zero, then flank speed to intercept that tanker!” Captain Boriskov of the Russian navy destroyer Besstrashny ordered. “I want all the patrol and smaller combatants available to rendezvous with us as soon as possible. We need help to stop that tanker before it reaches Turkish territorial waters.”