CARRIER 4: FLAME-OUT By Keith Douglass

a little. Tyrone, you and me are gonna play tag with the number-two MiG. Got

it?”

“We’re on it, Caped Crusader!” That was Lieutenant Commander Dallas

Sheridan, “Big D,” flying Tomcat 212. His aircraft peeled off, followed

closely by Lieutenant Adam “Loon” Baird in number 205. “We’ll be all over

that guy like ugly on my mother-in-law!”

“Let’s show the Commies what a real aviator can do!” Powers added.

“They’ll never know what hit ’em!”

“Just remember the ROES, children,” Batman said, mostly for the benefit

of Powers and Cavanaugh. Even though they’d done a good job in the encounter

Monday night he still regarded Powers as a potential troublemaker. The man

wanted to score a kill, and Batman was afraid he’d get too eager. He could

remember how it had felt when he’d been looking for his first ACM kill. “Do

not fire unless fired upon, or until you get the Weapons Free call from the

Jeff.”

“Yes, Mother,” Sheridan’s RIO, Lieutenant j.g. Edward “Fast Eddie”

Glazowski, replied. “We’ll be good.”

Under the lighthearted banter there was an underlying seriousness. These

men knew what was at stake today. After years of training for just this kind

of confrontation, it was still hard to believe that they were so close to the

brink this time.

“One minute, Batman,” Malibu announced quietly.

He tightened his grip on the stick and swallowed.

0916 hours Zulu (0616 hours Zone)

Tomcat 208 Redwing Flight

“Damn it, why don’t they let us do something?” Koslosky muttered. He was

maintaining the Tomcat’s position above the Bear, but so far there was no sign

that the Russians were willing to turn back. By now they would know about the

four new fighters from Ajax Flight, and that hadn’t seemed to change things

either.

“Stay frosty, kid,” Kirshner advised him.

Koslosky fumed. It seemed like everyone from the admiral down to his own

RIO was letting the Russians get away with murder just because things were hot

in Norway. He knew how the Soviets operated … hell, everybody knew. They

would push as hard and as far as they could just to see how much they could

get away with, but the first time they faced really determined opposition they

caved in. That had been the story of the whole Cold War era. It had led to

the end of the Wall and the retreat of the Red Army from Eastern Europe into

the Russian heartland.

“The hell with this,” he said aloud. With a quick movement he banked the

Tomcat right, standing it on one wing and letting the plane lose altitude.

He’d give that Bear pilot the fright of his life. Then they’d see how long

the Russians ignored the carrier’s exclusion zone!

“Jesus!” Kirshner swore. “What the hell’re you doing, Kos?”

“Trust me, Wild Card,” he said with a grin. “I’m just raising them

another few dollars.”

His hands worked the stick and the throttles deftly, settling the fighter

close alongside the huge reconnaissance plane’s starboard wing. It was a

tricky maneuver, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Sliding up to a tanker for a

midair refueling was no more hazardous than this. Slowly he edged his speed

up so the Tomcat would pull forward alongside of the cockpit. Koslosky

grinned again, his mind flashing back to the scene from the movie Top Gun

where the hero had inverted his Tomcat a few feet over an enemy plane. There

was no room for that kind of bravado out here … but you could make your

point clearly enough just by crowding the opposition a little. Tomcat and

Bear edged closer together.

0916 hours Zulu (0816 hours Zone)

Tu-95 Misha Three Misha Flight

“New American aircraft have split up,” the electronics officer reported

nervously. “Comrade Captain-Lieutenant, if they are serious about exclusion

zone we will be easy targets.”

Captain-Lieutenant Viktor Petrovich Kolibernov had been thinking the same

thing. It was easy enough for the Boishoi Chirey, the “Big Boys” who gave the

orders, to claim that the Americans would never initiate hostilities. Things

looked different from the cockpit of an antiquated Tu-95 with a swarm of

American fighters closing in.

He realized he was sweating. Kolibemov wiped his forehead with one

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