“Two-one” sounded in his headset. “This is Two-three!”
“Brewer! Where are you? I can’t shake this guy!”
“I’m on him! When I tell you, break right!”
Batman winced at the thud-thud-thud of a trio of shells slamming into
his fuselage. “Do it! Do it!”
“Three … two … one … break!”
1325 hours
Tomcat 218, Shotgun 2/3
Over the Kola Inlet
Brewer had been angling for a clear shot with her last Sidewinder
missile, but the MiG had been riding so hard on Batman’s tail she
couldn’t get a clear shot, one that would nail the Russian without
accidentally locking onto Batman’s engines. When he broke hard right,
however, he slipped clear of her targeting pipper and the AIM-9M system
signaled a lock on the MiG.
“Fox two!”
The Fulcrum was already into its starboard turn, still dogging Batman,
when the missile slammed into its right engine and detonated. Flame
spilled from the MiG’s tail … and then the Russian’s fuel tanks
detonated into blossoming orange flame.
“Great shot, Brewer!” Batman called.
“That makes the score six-to-six, dead even, Batman!”
“Listen, babe! After that shot, we concede. Right, Malibu?”
“That’s affirmative,” Malibu agreed. “Beer and dinner’re on us!”
She laughed. “Who’re you calling ‘babe,’ fella?”
“Anyone who handles a Tomcat like that is one hot babe. Where’s
Stoney?”
“I got him,” Pogie said. “One-eight-five at angels one. He’s got
troubles.”
“Let’s help him! Two-one’s in!”
“Two-three,” Brewer added. “We’re in!”
1325 hours
Tomcat 200
Over the Kola Inlet
A Fulcrum had dropped in behind Tombstone for a high, plunging attack.
He’d countered by pulling into a steep climb, rolling left. Inverted
now, he looked down through the top of his canopy at the Russian plane
passing beneath. Damn! Now it was climbing, rolling into a maneuver
identical to his.
Rolling out over the top of his climb, Tombstone tried to line up a
hasty shot with his guns, but the MiG pilot had already broken into his
own climb, forcing Tombstone to overshoot and pass cockpit-to-cockpit
beneath the rolling Fulcrum.
The two aircraft were now locked in a deadly maneuver called a rolling
vertical scissors, each plane in turn trying to line up on the other,
only to have the target evade its diving approach with an inverted roll.
Each repeat of the maneuver cost both fighters airspeed and altitude.
The altitude ladder on Tombstone’s HUD showed seven hundred feet now,
and still the two aircraft were rolling around one another, each trying
for the upper–and final–hand, neither able to disengage without giving
the other an immediate advantage.
“Stoney!” Tomboy warned. “Watch your altitude!”
“I see it!”
They’d just plain run out of sky. A mountain, black rock patched with
ice and snow, loomed ahead and Tombstone cut left and high to clear it.
The MiG-29 tried to copy the maneuver, pulling nose high …
… and slammed into the cliff.
“Way to go, CAG!” Tomboy yelled.
Tombstone rolled out, afterburners thundering, fighting for altitude …
… and then the Tomcat’s left wing disintegrated in a blaze of fire.
The shock was so sudden, so unexpected, that it took a moment for
Tombstone to realize what had happened. Another MiG had been hanging
back throughout those repeated vertical scissors, waiting for a chance
to fire, and when Tombstone had broken left, he’d given the guy a
perfect shot with a heatseeking AA-8 Aphid.
The crippled Tomcat, still climbing, went into a gentle roll, streaming
flame. “That’s it, Tomboy!” he called to his RIO. “We’re punching
out!”
“Go! Go!”
“Eject!” He yanked on the ring. The canopy blew away, filling his
universe with roaring, thundering wind. Then the thunder of his
ejection seat rocket drowned even that, and he was hurtling out into
chill, empty sky.
The snow-patched Russian tundra spun crazily about Tombstone’s head.
CHAPTER 30
Tuesday, 17 March
1325 hours
Tomcat 201, Shotgun 1/1
Over the Kola Inlet
“Tombstone’s been hit!” Coyote called. “I see him,” Cat said. “Two
chutes! Two good chutes!”
“Thank God. Batman! Brewer! Where are you?”
“We’re on the guy that flamed CAG,” Brewer replied. “Shit, too close!
Goin’ for guns!”
“Two-three, Two-one! I’ve got the shot! Clear!”
“You’ve got it. Breaking left!”
“I’m on him! Splash one MiG!”