Thirty miles away, Janet Anderson was at home watching her favorite soap, when it was interrupted by a special new bulletin. "The president is not going to get the female votes if he continues to interrupt our soaps." She scolded the TV. As it turned out it was not a presidential briefing. The news anchor gave a run down on the situation developing in the gulf and reported on the local side of what was happening with the possibility of incoming enemy fighters coming in from the south and targeting the east coast of Florida.
"I hope John is on the ground by now." She said to herself.
The news anchor read a general warning for viewers that the following live coverage was not edited for content. The screen changed to a shot of an aircraft in the middle of US-1 with a fairly large crowd around it. The commentary continued describing what they were seeing and hearing.
Janet recognized the surroundings as the bottom of John Parents Street. She picked up the phone and dialed his parent's number. The coverage changed to a hand held camera of a man climbing up into the jet. When the man turned around as he lowered into the cockpit Janet just about dropped the phone.
No one answered the phone so she hung up, now totally engrossed at what they were saying on the news. She could see Johns father move through the picture. So that would be why they didn't answer. What the hell did he think he was doing, she thought. This wasn't a stunt from what the anchor was telling, and from the look on her husband's face. This was life or death. The house was only twenty miles from the Hutchinson Island Nuclear plant. If the Cubans were to drop a bomb on that facility, this whole area would parish in the radiation. From the couch where she was sitting she could see into the front office where Johns computer with the flight seat John had made up for it. Janet Anderson remembered all the nights John had spent in there for hours at a time. She knew he was a good pilot. She had flown with him many times on trips to the Keys or the panhandle for long weekends and vacations in the 310. This was not a Cessna he was getting into though.
Steve was about ten meters away from the plane, he had his camera focused on John as he strapped in and was connecting the wires and lines to his flight suit. John reached up for Ed's helmet and noticed Steve with the camera on him. Steve zoomed in tighter and he could see the sudden calm on John's face. John was looking directly into the lens as he mouthed the words I love you. Steve thought it odd but then removed himself from the thought. It had to be generic Steve thought. There were many people out there that John would want to say good bye too. So now they would all think he was directing it at them personally, they knew who they were.
John looked away from the camera, paused for a countable breath and was back to business. Steve figured he had what he needed and started away. When he had reached the ambulance where Ed and Valerie were, he heard the whine of the turbine spinning up for the engine start. Steve kept the camera on his shoulder and watched as the six cars around the Jet disconnect the jumper cables and pull away.
"That is one calm son of a bitch right there. What do you think his chances are that he will get them all Ed?"
"I'm not going to speculate on that Steve, because the cost of failure is very high." Ed said in a slightly unstable voice.
"So John it has come down to you talking to yourself." John said as he scanned the panels making sure that he had completed everything that he needed to. He pulled back on the throttle quadrant to the idle detent. He also noted the grip he had on the thing. Looking outside his Father was just off the left nose waiting for him. John went to take hold of the flight stick; his hand was shaking noticeably. "Cool Hand, what a name you picked for yourself John. Your not very cool now are you." He had to physically think about it to release the grip on the throttle. Clenching his fists and trying to relax them, he reached up and dialed in the COM frequency and turned up the volume a bit. "You better get a hold of yourself John. There are people waiting on you." He continued talking to himself. The adrenaline was at an all time high, making him almost dizzy. He looked at the picture of Ed Robinson's Daughter that was stuck under the ring bezel of the fuel pressure gage. She was young in this picture, about five or six. John reached out with his shaking gloved hand and touched the picture of the little girl. The adrenaline eased a bit and his hand stopped shaking some. "It's worth it John." He said to himself.
John reached over and grabbed the flight stick, and pulled it to the left. His Father signaled for left aileron. He pressed the stick right, then back, and then forward. His father signaled each as working. The stick felt odd to him as the fly-by-wire system worked on pressure from the stick, not actual movement. He then moved the rudder pedals and got the right response from his father. All flight control surfaces were working. He then keyed the mic.
"Tango Two is with you readying to taxi." John radioed and also dialed in the numbers given by the AWACS control and activated the transponder.
"Glad to have you Tango Two, your new designation is Falcon One, please expedite takeoff nearest bandit is bearing zero niner five, fifty miles at One thousand, copy." The AWACS Communications officer directed. His voice was calm, and to John seemed friendly enough.
"Copy Skyhawk Two Three."
Johns Father had the small hand held radio, and had gotten an earpiece from one of the police officers so that he could hear over the noise of the jet. He heard the conversation and signaled to John that the plane was clear of any obstacles. He then moved off towards the group at the ambulance. As his Father cleared the road John released the brakes and the jet started to roll. He looked down at his Father walking in the grass, but he never looked back, and he didn't say a word over the radio. That didn't bother John that was the way his father was, and had always been. If John had done something right, his Father would never admit he had, only tell him he could do better.
"Falcon One this is Tango Two, you copy John?"
"Loud and clear Ed."
"The airspeeds are the same as the simulator; keep an eye on your stores list. Don't forget to strap on your mask and use the oxygen. It will help a great deal when you start pulling G's."
"Copy Ed." John radioed and he pushed forward on the throttle quadrant to get moving faster. Looking off to the side John had to do a double take, that woman, yes it was her, Amanda Lang from High school. It had been awhile since he had seen her, and she looked the same as she did twenty years ago. She stood in the parking lot looking up at the massive jet moving by, her hands over her ears to block the loud whine from the intake and exhaust. Her brown hair flowing over her shoulders, her well-proportioned figure John found himself lingering on. He couldn't see her eyes well but he could remember them. She wasn't smiling at the moment but he remembered that too. "So beautiful, and you left her without telling her how you felt, you idiot." John was taking to himself again. "That was twenty years ago John, Give it up buddy."
She was out of sight now and John forced her out of his thoughts. Making the end of the makeshift runway, John got the large jet turned around and in line with the centerline of the north bound side.
"Falcon One we have good reading on transponder, confirm you are at nineteen foot MSL."
John had to think for a second, this area was about the same as the airport was above sea level, and his altimeter read about twenty.
"Roger Skyhawk Two Three, reading Nineteen MSL." John Confirmed. John reached over and touched the little girl's picture, "let's do this sweetheart." He pressed hard on the brakes and pushed the throttle to the full military power detent.
The officer directly behind the jet took cover behind his cruiser as the thrust from the jet engine increased. People behind him were running for cover, some being blown over in the process. The police officer suddenly realized his mistake when the cruiser started to skitter sideways and back. Try as he may he couldn't get clear before the cruiser pinned him in-between the first car in the traffic jam and his own cruiser.
"Falcon One, bandits now zero niner zero at five miles, one thousand feet, closure rate three fifty knots."
"Copy Skyhawk, Falcon One rolling." John released the brakes and the jet began to roll. John gently controlled the rudder pedals to keep the Jet in a straight line as it quickly accelerated down the road pinning him into the seat. He pushed the throttle further forward into afterburner. At one hundred knots John slowly eased back on the stick bringing the nose up a bit. Shortly there after the main gear came off the ground. He eased the stick forward holding the large jet at five-foot off the ground and raised the gear.
"Falcon One, Bogie is coming in at your three o clock overhead."
John didn't answer but just clicked the mic button twice. This low to the ground he didn't dare take his eyes off the view in front of him, but from his periphery he could see them just overhead and flying off his left side. John pulled the throttle back out of afterburner and back to the full military detent. Airspeed was now approaching two fifty knots as he pasted under the power lines. He pulled back on the stick and looked up to see the trail Mig had banked over his head to his right side. John banked hard left and fell into trail behind the lead Mig who had turned hard left opposite of his wingman. The hard pull John had made bleed off some of his airspeed, but he knew that would happen. He was within range for the guns when the Mig pulled into vertical.
John pulled hard back on the stick and toggled the armament switch till he had guns in the HUD display. The AOA angle of attack recticle also appeared on the HUD and John carefully placed it just in front of the Mig and kept it there with stick pressure.
Gently he squeezed the trigger. In the practical sense the fifty-millimeter rounds were aimed in front of the Mig. But the rounds continue straight, thus the Mig moving forward flew right through the burst of fifteen 30mm rounds. John only saw a panel blow off and he rolled right pulled back hard and pitched the jet to the right, which angled him towards the ground. He couldn't take the chance on flying though debris not to mention he was out of position to fire again and didn't have the airspeed to continue climbing. He continued down looking up and towards the back of his canopy to try and find the other Mig. Rolling wings level at five hundred foot he once again saw the lead plane. The pilot had ejected and the Mig was tumbling to the ground.
"Splash one, where is the other Mig, over." John called.
"Falcon One, we have heavy ground cover but believe the second Mig is in trail, less than one mile." The Skyhawk controller advised.
John was now headed back south and angled left to fly over Ed on the ground so that he could have some good eyes on info. Until he got there he was jerking left and right and straining to see in back of him, looking for the Mig.
Ed looked up at Johns Father after seeing the first Mig tumbling out of the air. "He doesn't mess around does he, looks to be at home just like he was on-line."
"I must say that was impressive, Ed. But he may be in some trouble with that other Mig on his tail." Brad Anderson said. "I don't think he had a choice, the wing man must have seen him taking off. Lucky break for him I suppose."
"Hey Mr. Anderson, my god what is going on, did that plane just crash?"
Brad Anderson looked to the voice to his left. It took him a second or so to remember who this young lady was. "Yes it did. Your Amanda aren't you?"
"Yes I am, John and I used to hang out together. I thought I saw his truck, where is he at?"
Just then the roar of the F-16 came just over their heads, followed by the Mig.
Looking up Ed saw the missile drop from the rack. "Spike spike, John move it!" Ed screamed over the radio.
There was no reply, but John cut between two buildings, pulling nine G's to make the turn so to pass in-between them. Just before he cleared the corner he released a chaff and flair. The Missile pitched to follow him but lost its lock as the F-16 disappeared behind the building. The missile acquired the chaff and blew out the corner of the building.
The Mig pilot was close in pursuit and didn't expect the explosion of the corner of the building. He quickly rolled the opposite direction and clipped the other building sending him crashing though an adjacent furniture store ripping out the roof and back wall of the building.
"Splash two." Ed radioed.
John's F-16 could now be seen arching up to the left behind the buildings and trees. "He's right there." Brad answered the shocked young Amanda. "As to what is going on it is a long story. Short of it is, there are now four-Migs trying to bomb our nuclear plants and John is trying to stop them." Brad pointed toward the radio and speaker. "You can have a listen to it all right there. This is the pilot that was flying the jet, Mr. Robinson. Ed this is Amanda, a friend of John's from High school"
Amanda shook his hand, and smiled at Valerie. "Nice to meet you."
"You can call me Ed. Do you ever go by Mandy?"
Amanda smiled at Ed, "Only person that ever called me by Mandy was John. He used to say it reminded him of a song."
The radio came to life, this time the controller had some enthusiasm in his voice. "Falcon One come left to zero niner zero and get down on the deck for radar avoidance. New pair will be at your two-o'clock and twenty miles. Get it moving, we'll call your turn to angle you in behind them."
"Copy Skyhawk Two three, Zero niner zero, in the trees." John radioed back.
Ed looked over his left shoulder and could just make out in the distance the F-16 diving back for the ground and turning in to the new heading. "See Valerie, the controller seems to be a tad bit happier." Ed could hear a slight whistling sound. "Cover your ears people!"
Seeing Ed and Brad cover their ears, most of them caught on in time. Just above the trees and below most of the rooftop of buildings John crossed over the group heading out toward the ocean on his intercept heading the controller gave him. There was but a couple of seconds before Ed had heard the light whine of the intake till the jet came over head at six hundred knots, just below the speed of sound. The thunderous roar and the air displaced were unconceivable to these civilians. It was nothing like any of them had seen at air shows, this was how the jets operated in the field. It was emphasized by a couple of pains of glass in nearby office building shattering to the ground.
"Good thing he didn't break the sound bearer or there wouldn't be one piece of glass left in anything around here." Brad Anderson said with somewhat of a laugh and a smile after the roar of the jet died down.
John Anderson eased back on the throttle so he wouldn't exceed the sound barrier. The range of emotion was eating away at him. On one hand there was the thrill of flying the F-16, and on the other hand he had just downed two Migs. Shooting down Migs was nothing to John, he had shot down many of them, but they had been computer generated. These two were real, he had seen the pilot eject and the other pilot was surly dead. This was no computer game, as lives were at hand. John was also afraid for his own life. At the moment he was threading his way though the terrain hoping not to mess up and hit a tree or building. This time he would have the jump on them if they didn't spot him, if the controller in the AWACS plane vectored him far enough away from them. Less than a minute from the call from Skyhawk Two Three he was in range of the Migs.
"Falcon One your target is at your two o'clock one thousand at one mile, come right to three one zero degrees they will be off your nose."
"Copy Skyhawk I have them in sight." Johns nerves turned cold as the adrenaline hit again. He banked the jet to the right pulling back at the same time adding g-forces to his body as he turned back the way he had come just below and right behind the two Migs.
"John pull up close before you lock them up. Don't give them any warning." Ed Robinson called from his handheld survival radio.
John was behind the left most Mig, and worked the mouse like joystick button on the throttle quadrant to move the cursor on the left MFD display over the Mig to the right. Pressing the small joystick in would lock the target the cursor was over. He didn't press the button but instead scrolled the weapons to guns with one of the twelve buttons on the flight stick.
John placed the tadpole in the HUD right over the lead Mig on the left and pulled the trigger. He must have hit something vital as the Migs had two or three small explosions before it caught fire in earnest. The sight of tracers flying over John's canopy scared the shit out of him.
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