“We’re in command eject,” Jeremy said precisely, his voice now under control. “On your order, sir.”
A fierce determination swept through him, a deadly fighting rage. He might be willing to eject and take his chances, looking forward to a reunion with Tomboy, but he wasn’t willing for Jeremy to do the same. He was a youngster, still with his whole life ahead of him. They were going to make it out of this.
A plan occurred to him, one so ludicrous and dangerous that he immediately dismissed it. But the thought wouldn’t go away, and all at once he could see how it might work. No, no guarantees — but it was their only chance.
“Hang on, Jeremy,” Tombstone shouted, fury in his voice. “We’re going to even the odds.” Tombstone yanked back hard to put the Tomcat into a steep climb. He pitched her over slightly to the right, heading directly for the center of the Russian fighters.
“Mother of god,” Jeremy breathed, as if to speak any louder would call the Forgers down on them. “Sharks — it’s like swimming into a school of sharks.”
“Heat seekers only, and guns,” Tombstone snapped, too busy concentrating on flying to worry about the weapons. This would have to be Jeremy’s show completely. Now that he knew what Tombstone had in mind, Tombstone had no doubt the Jeremy could finish the job.
All around them, the air was thick with Forgers. In aeronautical terms, with the aircraft maneuvering at around Mach 1, they were in each other’s laps. There was no margin of error, no chance to recover from a mistake.
Already, the results of Tombstone’s maneuver were having an effect. The AMRAAMs stayed locked on him, following him into the flight of Forgers. Tombstone punched up straight through them, his wing tips almost grazing them, then broke and came down behind them, temporarily shielding his aircraft from the missiles’ radars by interposing the Forgers’ fuselages.
The Russian anti-air missiles were fairly sophisticated, on par with the AMRAAM. But on final, their tiny radar control mechanisms locked onto his friends, they were unable to distinguish between Tombstone’s Tomcat and the Forgers. Those few that did stayed locked on Tombstone considered transferring their intentions to the Forgers but were simply going too fast to make the turn. As nimble as they were, they were not as responsive as an aircraft.
“Two down!” Jeremy shouted, his voice starting to show hope. “It worked.”
As he swept back and behind the Forgers, Tombstone stabbed a quick burst from his gun, stitching a line across the vertical stabilizer of one Forger. For a moment, it seemed to have no effect, then fire and smoke billowed from the tail.
“Fox one,” Jeremy said, and Tomcat shivered as the heat seekers leaped off the wing. “Any second now, they’re going to figure this out.”
Tombstone could imagine what was going on in the other pilots’ minds. They’d wasted precious minutes all trying to fire at once, crossing each other’s fields of fire and turning their weapons on each other. He took advantage of their confusion to compound their problems, weaving around them, piercing the center of the formation several times and taking shots from his guns and with Jeremy’s heat seekers when possible. In short order, ten Forgers were either seriously damaged and out of commission or destroyed.
“They’ve got it,” Tombstone said. Sixteen of the remaining Forgers were withdrawing, taking the risk of exposing their tailpipes to him as they rapidly left the area. He took advantage of the negligence to pop off a couple more short bursts from his nose gun, and was rewarded with two more kills.
But the remaining four Forgers were a problem. Two on one — that was something they all knew how to do. The confusion factor was eliminated by removing the other aircraft from the area. Now that they knew of his ruse, they would no doubt turn south to provide reinforcement to the rapidly decimated flight under attack by the main body of Tomcats.
“We have problems,” Jeremy announced. “Two chaff, two flares left.”
“Roger,” Tombstone said briskly. “I think it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge.” He toggled off their remaining AAMRAAM, targeting the lead aircraft, then slammed the throttles into full afterburner. He dropped the nose down, letting gravity add to the aircraft’s acceleration. Altitude was safety, but sometimes distance was even better.
“They’re on us,” Jeremy said. “Two high, two low.”
“I know, I know,” Tombstone said, his mind searching desperately for a way out. If he continued descending, he’d fall into perfect firing position for the two lower fighters. The higher two already had him targeted, and, secure in the knowledge that he could not escape, they were waiting for the perfect shot.
Suddenly, a voice came in over tactical. “One zero one, on my mark, break hard left and descend to five hundred feet, then clear the area for missile engagement, Stony.”
“The cruiser,” Jeremy shouted, joy in this voice.
“Five hundred feet, my ass,” Tombstone said. “And how the hell am I suppose to manage that?”
“Quit whining and do it,” Jeremy ordered, then sucked in a sharp breath as though surprised at his temerity. Tombstone cracked a grin.
Tombstone broke hard left, putting the Tomcat into a steep vertical dive. He waited for the precise moment, watching the geometry in this mind, then popped off the remaining flares and chaff. That was it. They were now out of countermeasures and weapons.
As he rocketed past, the two lower Forgers wheeled in concert to follow him. Just as they changed their angle of attack, they ran into the flares directly in their paths. Jeremy squirmed around to watch behind them and saw one Forger take a hit to the engine, followed shortly by an explosion as the turbine blades exploded off the rotor.
“One down,” Jeremy said. “Now the last one—”
But the last Forger was proving tougher than his wingman. He maneuvered nimbly to avoid the cloud of chaff and flares, then continued descending, circling slightly to decrease his actual descent and remain in firing position behind the Tomcat. Once clear of the countermeasures, he would shoot, of that Tombstone was certain.
“Spoofing,” Tombstone ordered. “One last time, Jeremy. And make it work.”
“Roger.” A second later, a flurry of contacts popped up around Tombstone on the screen. Invisible to normal eyes, but to the radar on the other aircraft, it must have seemed that the air was as cluttered as it had been earlier.
Tombstone broke hard to the left again, pulling out of the descent. The Tomcat complained, howling her protest as the g-forces built, stressing the aircraft past every design factor. She wasn’t built to take this hard of a turn at this speed, but she was doing her best to comply.
“Stay with me, Jeremy,” Tombstone shouted, fighting off the g-forces himself. “Stay with me.” The maneuver was intended to shield his tailpipes from the heat seekers that would be fired at any moment. Sure, the rest of the aircraft had heat sources as well, but nothing as attractive as the fiery glow of the tailpipes.
But he had to ease up on the turn. There was no point to it if it resulted in both pilots blacking out and the aircraft departing controlled flight. Fighting off the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him, Tombstone slowed the turn and pulled up.
On his HUD, he saw six new targets with long speed leaders. The cruiser’s missiles, headed now for the altitude he had just vacated, seeking out the remaining Forgers. Guided by the cruiser’s deadly accurate Aegis radar and precision fire control equipment, the missiles were far more accurate than anything fired by an aircraft. At the very least, they would put the Forgers on the run.
Tombstone’s problem was more immediate. The remaining Forger on his tail was not deterred and, having overcome his panic at the missile launch, was waiting for them.
