Something flashed past the cockpit, feeling close though it was at least a hundred yards away, then exploded astern. A lone fragment of shrapnel pinged off the canopy as Tombstone rolled toward the otiier plane.
“One Sidewinder left,” he said. “Let’s see if we can get on this bird’s tail!”
0848 hours, 26 March Tomcat 216
Explosions flashed and popped among the Indian aircraft. Streaks of black smoke scrawled from sky to sea as burning planes plummeted. Despite their bad rep, the Sparrows had struck, and struck hard. Now die aircraft formations were penetrating one another,
ARMAGEDDON MODE
245
;; swirling together in a colossal aerial dogfight that filled the sky With flashing planes and the long, white streaks of air-to-air missiles. The American Tomcats were heavily outnumbered,
–foat the majority of their opponents were older, slower strike ^jBicraft carrying bombs and missiles against the U.S. fleet: ?1Eanberras, Su-7 Fitters, and aging Hawker Hunters. Many of ^lfee more modern aircraft in the oncoming wave, Jaguars and ; jjwing-wing MiG-27 Flogger-Ds, were dedicated strike aircraft, vHJlawed by the bombs and missiles slung from their ordnance
hardpoints.
“Going for guns,” Batman called automatically, snapping
fee selector switch on his stick as the F-14 slid gently onto the
jjix of a Flogger.
‘ “You’d better,” Malibu replied. “That’s all we got left!” Batman let the HUD reticle drift across the other plane’s ; fuselage, following as the Flogger began a slow break to the %JefL His Lead Computing Optical Sight drew a short line on his 3ttUD, showing how much lead to give the MiG as it turned . wray.
” His thumb came down on the firing switch, and the M61A12
‘Yulcan cannon thundered. White smoke trailed behind Bat-IJMB’S Tomcat in puffs as he pumped burst after burst into the |jSceiiig MiG-27.
y Chunks of metal sprayed from the Flogger’s back and left ”- Wing. The Indian pilot tried to sharpen his break in a desperate
• attempt to throw himself clear of the deadly volleys but succeeded only in presenting his aircraft plan-view-on to his Otendess pursuer. Twenty-millimeter cannon shells smashed through his fuselage. The MiG began coming apart.
The Flogger-D’s hinged, squared-off canopy blew off. There was a flash, and Batman glimpsed the tiny figure of the pilot as his ejection seat rocketed him clear of the crumbling aircraft. Seconds later, there was another, far brighter flash . . . then another and another as the Flogger’s load of half-ton bombs detonated.
“Splash one MiG,” Batman called.
Around him, the dogfight swirled from just above the sea to over thirty thousand feet, dozens of aircraft circling one Mother in a melee across hundreds of square miles.
“We’re turnin’ and bumin’ now, Batman!” Malibu called.
“Affirmative!” But the American defenses were already
246
leaking. Indian aircraft were falling from the sky one after another, but plenty of strike aircraft had already made it through, were holding a steady course for the southwest, for Jefferson.
There were just too many of them to stop.
Batman checked the readout on his HUD that registered the number of rounds he had remaining for his Vulcan cannon. The M61 was loaded with 675 rounds, but since it had a rate of fire that burned up seventy to one hundred rounds a second depending on the setting, the F-14’s ammo store did not last for long.
The readout showed 206 rounds remaining. Three seconds’ worth of fire at the 4000 RPM setting . . . perhaps four or five quick bursts.
And then he would have neither missiles nor guns.
Batman began searching for his next target.
0650 hours, 26 March Tomcat 200
Tombstone pulled up hard as the MiG-29 in his sights cut in his
afterburners and stood on his tail.
“Watch it, Stoney!” Hitman yelled “He’s goin’ ballistic!” “I’m on him!” Tombstone rammed his throttles forward to
Zone Five to build up speed, then cut back to eighty-percent
power, allowing the climbing MiG to drift into his line of fire.
The angle was bad with a sharp deflection, but he squeezed off
a long burst in hope of getting one or two hits that might, might
puncture something vital. The Fulcrum rolled sharply right, seeming to float just