At the sa mont, the inky black sea surface below.
The Liberian-registered bulk cargo ship "Seagull," disguised with rust, gently bobbed with the waves.
The superstructure on the deck was silent, except for a faint and eerie glow emanating from a porthole on the top floor of the pilothouse.
Iron Wolf's calloused fingers swiftly darted over the control console filled with buttons and screens.
On the central main screen was a breath-taking real-ti image generated by the "Multi-satellite Coordinated Staring Technology" — the viewpoint seed to hover tens of thousands of ters in the sky, capturing the entire refueling airspace.
The images were clear down to the finest details: four F-15I jets circled the tanker like sharks, with one tightly connected to the enormous KC-707; the other three patrolled around vigilantly; the swaying of the refueling hose from the tanker's tail, the hot tail flas from the fighter's exhaust nozzles, and even the reflection on the pilot's canopy were vaguely visible!
At the screen's edge, a cascading stream of data flowed, providing coordinates, altitude, and speed vectors precise to ters.
"Target locked. Four F-15I, one KC-707. Relative position paraters stable."
Iron Wolf's voice was hoarse and icy, like rusty gears turning.
Next to him, Vasily and several missile operators held their breath, their foreheads brimming with tiny beads of sweat.
Behind them, at the center of the rear deck that initially seed piled with miscellaneous items, the heavy waterproof canvas had been lifted, revealing nacing fangs — two quad-launch setups for SA-6 (2K12 Kub/SA-6 Gainful) anti-air missiles.
The stout missile bodies glead with a cold, dark green sheen in the faint light of the deck work lamps.
The fire-control radar antennas beside them lay low, yet to be activated.
"Brother, do we really not need to turn on the radar now? Just rely on those eyes in the sky?"
Vasily's voice carried an irrepressible tension and a hint of doubt.
Using missiles from decades ago, guided by satellites, to attack one of the world's most advanced fighter jets sounded like a tall tale.
"Satellites provide initial coordinates and ongoing mid-course corrections. In the terminal phase, radar illumination is needed to provide precise continuous wave guidance."
Iron Wolf didn't turn his head, his eyes fixed on the screen.
"But we only have one opportunity. They're at their slowest speed, least maneuverability, and are bunched together right now!"
He abruptly pressed a red button on the console: "Rear deck! Prepare to launch! Target: Hamr 1, Hamr 2, Hamr 3, Hamr 4! Sequential lock! Launch angle 70 degrees, azimuth 033! Fire-control radar — activate preheat, prepare to illuminate on my command!"
A muffled hydraulic noise ca from below the deck.
The quad-launch setups slowly lifted, the stout missile tubes pointed towards the northeast's pitch-black night sky.
Inside the fire-control radar control cabin, the operator's fingers hovered above the launch button, heart pounding.
"Hamr 1, fuel transfer complete. Disengage."
Ilan steadily issued the command, gently pulling back the control stick. The refueling probe precisely slid out of the cone.
The warplane smoothly disengaged from the refueling position, making way for "Hamr 2."
His fuel gauge showed 98%.
"Hamr 2, begin docking."
The second F-15I began steadily approaching the swaying cone.
Just as "Hamr 2" pilot focused all his attention on docking operations, Ilan relaxed his tight nerves, preparing for a formation regroup —
Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep——!!!
A piercing, shrill, tal-scraping alarm sound instantaneously tore through the peace in all four F-15I cockpits!
Red lights flashed wildly inside the cockpit! The AN/ALR-56M Radar Warning Receiver (RWR) display screen lit up with 8 high-priority red sector icons representing missile lock sources, pointing directly downward at the sea surface!
Beside the icon, cold letters flashed — SA-6!
"Missile lock! Missile lock! Downward view direction! SA-6! Sea surface direction!"
Ilan's shout carried an incredulous horror, exploding across the formation's channel!
Every pilot's heart tightened suddenly!
"Impossible! We're dozens of miles from the coastline! They can't launch SA-6 from the sea surface!"
The "Hamr 3" pilot's voice carried a hint of panic.
"ECM full open! Deploy decoys! Maximum density! Break away imdiately! 'Sword,' deploy jamming! Evade!"
Ilan almost roared the order while thrusting the throttle to its limit, the jet engines roared with deafening fury!
The AN/ALE-55 Fiber-Optic Towed Decoy (FOTD) under the wing instantly activated, releasing a large volu of infrared flares and chaff!
In an instant, the tranquil night sky was completely ablaze!
Dozens, even hundreds of blazing infrared flares, bright as miniature suns, spilled crazily from the bodies of four fighter jets and a tanker, like the wildest festive fireworks, exploding into clusters of brief yet piercing orange-red light on the dark sky!
At the sa ti, a sky full of tallic chaff scattered like a silver snowstorm in the moonlight and firelight, forming imnse clouds of interference that sharply reflected radar waves!
The entire refueling airspace turned into a bizarre and deadly stage filled with lethal traps!
"Hamr Squadron! 'Sword'! This is Hamr 1! Multiple missiles detected launched! Repeat, multiple missiles launched! Position directly below! Speed extrely fast! They... they're not distracted by the flares! God! They're still tracking us!"
The voice of "Hamr 4" pilot was altered by extre shock and fear. On his radar warning screen, the sharp symbols representing the missiles were penetrating the chaff clouds and flare barrage, locking onto their target signals relentlessly, with no reduction in speed!
"This is impossible! How can the SA-6 have such anti-jamming capabilities?!"
Ilan's pupils dilated with horror as he stared fixedly below.
Through the canopy glass, he could clearly see four bright orange-red trails tearing through the darkness at astonishing speed, piercing the sky straight from above the sea surface.
They seed to have a life of their own, ignoring the chaff and burning flares flying across the sky, resolutely closing in on the squadron!
One of them was heading straight for the massive KC-707 tanker, clumsily dumping flares and trying to accelerate away!
"'Sword'! Quick evasive actions! A missile's coming for you! Dive! Dive! Release all flares!"
Ilan shouted hoarsely over the channel.
The tanker pilot had obviously seen the deadly spear of the Grim Reaper, as the huge aircraft began to tilt and dive drastically, sending out its last dense stream of flares from the belly, like a desperate swarm of fireflies.
But it was all too late.
The SAM-6 missile, like a precision scalpel, sliced through the night sky with a rciless straight line, piercing the fleeting brilliance created by the flares instantly—
Boom!!!!
A huge, horrifying orange-red fireball, even larger and brighter than all the flares combined, exploded fiercely at the center of the KC-707's enormous body!
The explosion's light instantly engulfed the massive silhouette of the tanker, illuminating the surrounding sea and sky as if it were dayti! Shattered tal debris and burning aviation fuel shot out in all directions like Hell's fireworks, with a mournful whistling!
The massive shockwave even caused the F-15I squadron kiloters away to experience intense vibrations!
"No——!!!"
Desperate cries from the F-15I pilots echoed in the channel.
However, the disaster was only beginning.
The remaining death rays did not pause for a mont after the tanker's destruction.
They cut sharp arcs in the air, piercing the turbulence caused by the explosion and the lingering interference clouds, firmly locking onto their targets—the three F-15Is desperately performing extre maneuvers, struggling to shake off the locks!
"Hamr 2! It's got you! Dive! Dive! Release counterasures!"
"I'm doing it! Damn it! Can't shake it! It's still chasing!"
"Hamr 3! Climb! Climb! Sharp turn!"
"G-force overload! I'm starting to black out!"
"Hamr 4! Missile closing in! 5 seconds! 4 seconds...!"
The pilots' shouts interwoven into a symphony of despair on the channel. They tried everything they could, pushing the F-15Is' formidable maneuverability to the limit.
The fighter jets executed severe rolls, Cobra maneuvers, extre dives, and climbs, their engines roaring heartbreakingly.
But no matter how they struggled, the three death beams from the sea locked onto them persistently, guided with precision by satellites and terminal radar, closing the distance with them at a suffocating speed!
Ilan watched helplessly as the missile symbols rapidly enlarged on his RWR screen, the warning sound speeding up to beco an ear-piercing siren!
He forcefully pulled the control stick all the way back while stepping on the rudder pedals, causing the fighter to shake violently as if hit by an invisible giant hamr, its nose pulling up abruptly, climbing at a nearly vertical angle!
The enormous G-load pressed his body tightly against the ejection seat, the edges of his vision swiftly darkened, contracting, showing symptoms of consciousness loss due to gravity overload.
"Ugh—!"
He gritted his teeth to fight the blackout, adrenaline surging to the limit.
But just as his fighter was reaching the top, when its speed was sharply dropping—
Boom——!!!
Boom——!!!
Boom——!!!
Three massive almost simultaneous fireballs erupted in the icy high altitude of 7,000 ters, like three of the most flamboyant death flowers offered to the Grim Reaper, bursting into bright bloom under the dawn sky!
User Comments
0 comments from readers