Fandom is Area 88, that show about the mercenary fighter pilots.
---
The desert air is hot as you climb into the cockpit. It's the tiny, cramped cockpit of a Shenyang J-6 you pilot. It's a Chinese copy of the MiG-19 and has a radar, which is much better than the MiG-15 knockoff you used to pilot. Todays armament is a pair of FAB-250 bombs and a pair of Chinese AA-2 Atoll missiles. Ground attack with some measure of defense against aircraft. It works fine.
You've been having chats over the last few weeks with a loyalist intelligence spook. They're offering you a nice reward in gold, twenty-five kilos of it, for defection. You've decided at it's worth it because you can go move somewhere nice away from this shithole. You would also like to imagine that it has something to do with your skills, having knocked out five tanks and a few air defense positions. They want you to rendezvous at an airbase known as Area 88. You have been given a special radio tuned to the channel by which they will give you the signal to defect and guide you in to the airfield.
You throttle up to full military power and join the other three planes of the flight, also J-6s. The flight to bomb a position begins. Right now, you are at a high altitude for fuel economy. It will be a standard high-low-high mission. Tense nervousness spread through you, but you can't help. You piloting grows a bit sloppy. Your wingman comes in close and you give him a thumbs up from your canopy. You don't feel as good as you appear, knowing that you might have to shoot him down. You hear the call tone and switch off your radio. Your wingman comes up and you give the classic ôradio's bustedö gesture. He nods, understanding, since the Chinese pieces of shit always crap out like this. At least the engines and other hard components are tough and reliable.
ôHello,ö trying to avoid any others noticing your conversation, ôWhat do you want?ö
ôIt is time. Head northeast. I advise to destroy any planes in the immediate area.ö
It's not advice; it's an order. You swallow the lump in your throat and switch your weapons on. You work out a firing solution again the flight lead and his wingman. You're too close for a missile shot. Bombs are dropped, making your airplane significantly light and more maneuverable. Three thirty mike-mike cannons do horrible things to an aircraft and the flight lead goes down in flames. A similar burst rips apart his wingman. Your wingman in curving around to get on your tail. A quick glance shows that has dropped his bombload to make for a better shot at you. You twist and turn and somehow manage to get behind him. Thirty mike-mike saws off a wing and off he goes, burning, to the ground. You immediately apply rudder with shaking hands, sweaty under their gloves, and head northeast.
ôHeading northeast. No followers,ö you say, all too calm into the small radio set.
ôExcellent. I will guide you. Follow my directions or you will be fired upon by SAM sites and I am sure you don't want that. A narrow corridor has been cleared.ö
You proceed, following his instructions very carefully. Suddenly, you notice a number of contacts on the radar. Friendly and coming in at supersonic speeds. That means they are interceptors after you. You report as much to the loyalist agent on the line. You receive the channel used by the SAM sites. You go to tell them that the MiG-19 is friendly but you find your radio to actually be busted. Of all times. With sweating palms you inform the agent of your equipment failure.
ôI'll tell the SAM sites. Be careful though, your IFF is still hostile.ö
You invert your plane and see a the trail of greyish-white smoke of a SAM launch. The planes are still coming in at a supersonic dash. Probably MiG-21s, you decide. You can't go supersonic since you probably would run out of fuel. Your only hope is that they run out of fuel, but 21s have a rather short range.
One contact disappears, but three remain and the missiles don't seem to be doing any good. You roll your plane back over and hit the afterburners. The SAMs should be able to deal with them. You should be safe. Then you hear an explosion and the shriek of metal subjected to stresses that none should. You look behind and see the rear of your plain falling apart in flames. Immediately you eject. Suddenly you are struck with a notion as to how this happened when feel the acceleration and open air.
If the interceptors had been using jamming pods, there is a good chance that the missiles would have gone after the only thing which gave a reliable lock: you. You hang in the air until you see the blur of an incoming MiG. It's a MiG-21, just like you thought. You see a flash and you parachute shreds. It still holds but only just. Another burst of cannon fire and you are falling back to earth like an angel whose wings have been ripped off.
à
à...
à......
Splat.
---
The desert air is hot as you climb into the cockpit. It's the tiny, cramped cockpit of a Shenyang J-6 you pilot. It's a Chinese copy of the MiG-19 and has a radar, which is much better than the MiG-15 knockoff you used to pilot. Todays armament is a pair of FAB-250 bombs and a pair of Chinese AA-2 Atoll missiles. Ground attack with some measure of defense against aircraft. It works fine.
You've been having chats over the last few weeks with a loyalist intelligence spook. They're offering you a nice reward in gold, twenty-five kilos of it, for defection. You've decided at it's worth it because you can go move somewhere nice away from this shithole. You would also like to imagine that it has something to do with your skills, having knocked out five tanks and a few air defense positions. They want you to rendezvous at an airbase known as Area 88. You have been given a special radio tuned to the channel by which they will give you the signal to defect and guide you in to the airfield.
You throttle up to full military power and join the other three planes of the flight, also J-6s. The flight to bomb a position begins. Right now, you are at a high altitude for fuel economy. It will be a standard high-low-high mission. Tense nervousness spread through you, but you can't help. You piloting grows a bit sloppy. Your wingman comes in close and you give him a thumbs up from your canopy. You don't feel as good as you appear, knowing that you might have to shoot him down. You hear the call tone and switch off your radio. Your wingman comes up and you give the classic ôradio's bustedö gesture. He nods, understanding, since the Chinese pieces of shit always crap out like this. At least the engines and other hard components are tough and reliable.
ôHello,ö trying to avoid any others noticing your conversation, ôWhat do you want?ö
ôIt is time. Head northeast. I advise to destroy any planes in the immediate area.ö
It's not advice; it's an order. You swallow the lump in your throat and switch your weapons on. You work out a firing solution again the flight lead and his wingman. You're too close for a missile shot. Bombs are dropped, making your airplane significantly light and more maneuverable. Three thirty mike-mike cannons do horrible things to an aircraft and the flight lead goes down in flames. A similar burst rips apart his wingman. Your wingman in curving around to get on your tail. A quick glance shows that has dropped his bombload to make for a better shot at you. You twist and turn and somehow manage to get behind him. Thirty mike-mike saws off a wing and off he goes, burning, to the ground. You immediately apply rudder with shaking hands, sweaty under their gloves, and head northeast.
ôHeading northeast. No followers,ö you say, all too calm into the small radio set.
ôExcellent. I will guide you. Follow my directions or you will be fired upon by SAM sites and I am sure you don't want that. A narrow corridor has been cleared.ö
You proceed, following his instructions very carefully. Suddenly, you notice a number of contacts on the radar. Friendly and coming in at supersonic speeds. That means they are interceptors after you. You report as much to the loyalist agent on the line. You receive the channel used by the SAM sites. You go to tell them that the MiG-19 is friendly but you find your radio to actually be busted. Of all times. With sweating palms you inform the agent of your equipment failure.
ôI'll tell the SAM sites. Be careful though, your IFF is still hostile.ö
You invert your plane and see a the trail of greyish-white smoke of a SAM launch. The planes are still coming in at a supersonic dash. Probably MiG-21s, you decide. You can't go supersonic since you probably would run out of fuel. Your only hope is that they run out of fuel, but 21s have a rather short range.
One contact disappears, but three remain and the missiles don't seem to be doing any good. You roll your plane back over and hit the afterburners. The SAMs should be able to deal with them. You should be safe. Then you hear an explosion and the shriek of metal subjected to stresses that none should. You look behind and see the rear of your plain falling apart in flames. Immediately you eject. Suddenly you are struck with a notion as to how this happened when feel the acceleration and open air.
If the interceptors had been using jamming pods, there is a good chance that the missiles would have gone after the only thing which gave a reliable lock: you. You hang in the air until you see the blur of an incoming MiG. It's a MiG-21, just like you thought. You see a flash and you parachute shreds. It still holds but only just. Another burst of cannon fire and you are falling back to earth like an angel whose wings have been ripped off.
à
à...
à......
Splat.