Karl's Last Flight, part 19
(c)2006, Basil Sands
Karl leveled the MiG out at three thousand meters and scanned his radar for the nuclear MiG that was still heading down range.
He found it, four kilometers ahead, flying at an altitude of one hundred fifty meters.
He dove down into it, locking his missiles, not wanting to lose this chance to hit him the first time.
The lock alarm sounded from the panel. He fired his rockets and turned to watch them. The black jet banked hard left, then climbed. The rockets were within one hundred meters when Karl saw the bright white fire of the chaffe flares erupt behind his target. The missiles both turned to the flares, exploding harmlessly in the air.
"Blast!" Karl exclaimed.
He only had one more pair of missiles. If he missed with that, it would be nearly impossible to stop this guy.
He forced the throttle forward, thrusting the jet to mach 2. Pressing back against the seat, the blood rushing to his head as he grunted against the strain, he prayed. He prayed with all his heart that these rockets would find their target and stop this insane kamikaze pilot from detonating his payload.
At eighty meters the radar locked on. Karl pressed the firing button to send the rockets home. He waited a second expecting to hear the hiss of the missiles launching, to see the smoke trail at they delivered destruction to their target.
Nothing happened.
He flipped the arming switch off and on, then pressed the firing button again.
Nothing.
Misfire.
He was getting away.
"No! No, you don't you bastard."
Karl swiftly gained altitude to one thousand meters. Rising above the other jet, he put the fighter into a dive, angled himself to cross the path of the black MiG. He aimed at a spot two hundred meters ahead of it. Squeezing the trigger on the joystick, he let fly the 20mm cannon shells, firing a hundred rounds in a two second burst. He pulled up sharply to avoid running into his own bullets.
He saw the impact of many of the rounds along the wings of the other jet, but the pilot was able to keep his craft under control, and continued his flight to the border.
Karl banked the plane hard to the right and accelerated. He would position himself to come in from the side, firing on the exposed flank of the black jet.
If this didn't work, he would have no other options left.
He fired his burst, sending the remaining 20mm rounds into the side of the MiG-27.
Several rounds hit, but they were high in the fuselage, doing only minimal damage. The nuclear armed, black MiG-27 streaked through the sky, victoriously heading to his target.
Karl flashed above the plane, his heart sinking at his failure to stop this terrible suicide mission.
His mind raced. Was there anything else. There had to be a way to stop this guy. Then he realized, there was one more thing he could do.
He would ram it.
He pulled back on the controls, going into a fast loop that circled him around to the top of the other plane. Aiming his plane into the path of the other jet he pressed the ship on, making a beeline straight for the death ship.
This was it, he told himself. The best way for a Marine to go, saving the world, finishing the mission.
It was all just words.
His mind moved to the beautiful woman in the back seat. He muttered apologies and emotional words of the love he would never be able to express to her. In a few seconds they would both be blown to pieces, spread all over this rocky desert terrain by the explosion of these two colliding aircraft.
He was within twenty five meters of the end when plane was suddenly jolted hard, hitting turbulence in the jet wash kicked up by the other fighter.
An alarm sounded on the panel. He looked down and realized it was the locked alarm. His radar had locked the target. Karl was surprised by a sudden hissing sound, and watched as the two rockets that had mis-fired unexpectedly loosed themselves from their bonds under the wings and trailed off on lines of white smoke toward the black craft.
He pulled up hard and fast, only seconds before the rockets impacted.
The explosion came before Karl was safely away. His jet was knocked hard. The searing heat wave blew him up and sideways, causing the jet to spin and roll chaotically, tumbling upward through the sky.
Pulling at the stick with all his strength, he struggled to regain control. He thought his arms would break from the stress he was exerting.
The plane, after what seemed like an eternity of wild protest, gradually came under Karl's control, as he managed to level it out.
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