Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 (78 page)

 
          
Then,
just before AALF flew within gun range, it turned away, staying outside maximum
gun range. The crew of the Russian destroyer couldn’t ignore the threat, so
they kept on maneuvering to keep its stem to the missile in case it started
another attack. As it did, the tanker
Ustinov
sailed farther and farther away, well out
of gun range now. The Ka-27 helicopter with its commandos on board had no
choice but to turn around—they could not risk facing more shoulder-fired
antiaircraft missiles without some sort of covering fire to help screen their
approach. The launch carrying two dozen naval infantry commandos continued
their approach, easily overtaking the much slower tanker.

 
          
“See
’em yet, guys?” Luger radioed. He was watching the launch’s approach on the
satellite surveillance video. “About four miles dead astern, heading toward you
at forty knots.”

 
          
Patrick
McLanahan deactivated his helmet’s electronic visor. He and Hal Briggs were
wearing the electronic body armor and had led the assault on the tanker The
armor had originally been developed by Sky Masters Inc. as a lightweight
protective anti-explosive sheathing inside airliner’s cargo compartments, But
the material, nicknamed BERP (Ballistic Electro-Reactive Process), had been
adapted for many other uses, including strong, lightweight protection for
special operations commandos. Patrick picked up the electromagnetic rail gun
rifle and steadied it on the safety rail of the starboard pilot’s wing. He
searched, using his helmet-mounted imaging infrared sensor, positioned the
rifle, then activated the rifle's electronic sight. “Contact,” he radioed back
to Luger. “Brave boys. They keep on coming, even though their cover is
completely gone”

 
          
“Don’t
let them get within mortar or antitank range, Mack.”

 
          
“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. Mack. 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-l0’s fuel tanks.

 
          
But
while AALF was attached to the DC-l0’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, w ith three big engines glow-ing 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.”

 
          
“Our
fighters report downing one unidentified aircraft,” the tactical action officer
reported. “But now our fighters are surrounded by Turkish and Ukrainian
interceptors, and one of our fighters has been shot down. Our fighters are
greatly outnumbered,”

 
          
“Turkish
interceptors?” the captain retorted. “What are Turkish interceptors doing
flying over
Ukraine
?”

 
          
“They
call themselves the Black Sea Alliance,” the executive officer replied. “The
aircraft are Hying both flags. They prohibited Russian aircraft from entering
their airspace, and they shot down one of our planes.”

 
          
“My
God, are they insane? What is this Black Sea Alliance? What in hell is going on
here? How many fighters arc up there?”

 
          
“There
are at least six up there, outnumbering them two to one—MiG-29s and F-l6s. They
have forced our fighters to withdraw.”

 
          
“Is
Novorossiysk
sending more fighters?” the captain asked.

 
          
“Negative,”
the TAO replied. “They were pursuing an unidentified aircraft when they entered
Ukrainian airspace, but that aircraft has disappeared over
Ukraine
. There is no longer any justification for
overflying Ukrainian airspace, so no more aircraft will be launched.”