Cowboy Casanova

7

 "You will be trained and evaluated by a few civilian specialists as well. These civilians are here because they are the very best sources on enemy aircraft. But the most qualified is our TAGREP - callsign: Red. She has a PhD in astrophysics and she's a civilian contractor, so you don't salute her, but you'd better listen to her, 'cause The Pentagon listens to her about your proficiency." Viper introduced, as a woman walks up from the back of the room to the front, standing in front of us all. She had short red hair and she leaned against the desk, looking at all of us. Hangman was on the other side of the aisle, sitting somewhat near me. I rolled my eyes as his eyes watched her every move.

"Pig." I muttered under my breath, looking back up at Red. Bradley is the only one that hears, chuckling.

"Hello. We will be dealing with F/A-18s in our simulators. As most of you know, the F/A-18 does not have the thrust to weight ratio of the MiG-35. It also does not bleed energy below 300 knots like the MiG-35. The MiG-35 incorporates advancements of the MiG-29K/KUB and MiG-29M/M2 fighters in combat efficiency enhancement, universality and operational characteristics improvement." While I took notes, I couldn't help but notice every time that Hangman thought it would be appropriate to stare at the "teacher". I knew that it shouldn't have bugged me as much as it did, but I let myself believe that it was because women in this type of expertise need to be treated with respect because of how hard it is for us to get into such a male dominated work-force. "The main features of the new design are the fifth-generation information-sighting systems, compatibility with Russian and foreign weapons applications and an integrated variety of defensive systems to increase combat survivability. The new overall design overtakes the design concepts of the baseline model and enables the new aircraft to conduct full-scale multirole missions as their western counterparts." I caught Hangman whisper something to Coyote and then both of them nodded, smirks resting on their lips. "New avionics are intended to help the MiG-35 gain air superiority as well as to perform all-weather precision ground strikes, aerial reconnaissance with opto-electronic and radar equipment and to conduct complex joint missions. This includes the RD-33MK engines and the newly designed optical locator system, OLS-35. The number of weapon stations has increased to 9, flight range has increased by 50%, and radar visibility has been reduced." Red looked over at Viper and he nodded.

"Gentlemen, ladies. You have a hop to take. The hard deck for this hop is 10,000 feet. No engagement below that altitude. Let's move it." All of us move out of the hangar to get ready for pre-flight.

𐑺

"This is your first hop. The jets you are flying against are smaller, faster, and more maneuverable. Just like the enemy MiGs. The clock is ticking and as of now, we are keeping score." Viper says into the radio headset. At twenty-eight thousand feet, I go against Viper with Bradley (Rooster) and Hangman, our planes circling each other, going in different directions. As we jockey for position, we snap past each other like ends of bullwhips. The earth spins, the horizon appears and disappears. With each hard turn, I grunt to keep blood in my brain, and to keep from passing out. The fight is hard, physical, and exhausting. The extreme G forces flattens me against my seat, causing my head to weigh over one hundred pounds. I strain my head to try and track the other jet as it streaks past Mach One.

"Damn. I've lost him. Rooster, any sign?"

"On your six, coming hard. Four hundred, losing airspeed! He's on your six and closing fast! Hard left!" I jerk the jet to the left and the F/A-18 takes an astonishing turn. Viper's jet roars past into a wide arc.

"Thanks, Rooster."

"Great move. Great." I furrowed my eyebrows. He should've gotten me there.

"You want to call for a draw, Banshee?" I hear Hangman ask. I glare at his voice, shaking my head.