Alpha Strike

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Mein Low swore as the adversary Chinese Sukoi-27 Flanker vanished into the blinding glare. He could almost feel the other pilot yanking his aircraft into a hard, gut-wrenching turn, bringing his guns to bear on Mein Low’s advanced prototype F-10 fighter while the sun hid his turn.

In combat the lines between men and aircraft blur until the difference between them disappears. My vision — the radar. My will — the weapons. And so it is for him as well. We both know only one of us will land after this knife fight.

The sky flashed metal, slightly above him at ten o’clock. The Flanker pilot had underestimated the width of his cloak of invisibility, exposing one wingtip. The attack geometry flashed into Mein Low’s mind.

Bleed off air speed, turn, and drop in behind me for the killing shot. But now that you’ve exposed your direction of turn, you’ve lost the advantage of uncertainty. And you will lose this engagement as well!

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