Trailing
"Major, we've run into some trouble."
The group captain found the data-link button and transmitted the three contacts' coordinates to aircraft 02's multifunction display. The two J-10s could not exchange encrypted data with the Pakistani ground-control network or with the AWACS, but they could share information between themselves. Now Song Ning, without switching on his own radar, could see three aircraft drifting from his ten o'clock to eleven. He faced a choice: press on, or run.
"We can descend and break right, away from them, Group Captain. The ground network has already spotted this formation. Let your colleagues handle it."
"But this geometry is too perfect. They've walked straight into our gunsight."
"Perhaps we can turn back to the airfield. Either way, we cannot engage."
"Major, this is a simple beyond-visual-range engagement. We hold our heading, let them fly past, slip in behind them at thirty kilometres, press the button, and it's over." Sami made it sound effortless. Song Ning knew the mechanics were roughly correct, but what he did not know was Sami's other motive: the group captain feared these three low-flying Mirages were heading for the heavy-water plant at Khushab.1 He knew that days earlier, Air Headquarters had pulled No. 9 Squadron's F-16s from Sargodha north to reinforce the Kashmir front, leaving the area around Khushab dangerously exposed. He could not say any of this to Song Ning.
"No. I cannot do this. I am not authorised to fight." Song Ning rejected the idea. He, too, could not say everything on his mind; he worried that voice transmissions would be intercepted, and a careless word might let the other side's intelligence deduce that foreign fighters were operating in the area.
"Major, you don't understand how vulnerable aircraft are when they're deep inside enemy territory. The pilots can't watch every direction at once. This is the perfect moment to attack."
"I understand perfectly. The geometry is excellent. But—" Song Ning wanted to shut Sami down, but found, to his dismay, that the argument was getting through. The situation was genuinely rare. Many pilots fly their entire careers without catching an enemy formation head-on, oblivious to a pursuer on their tail. As a fighter pilot, he was finding it very hard to say no.
"Black Spider lead, I cannot. This is a matter of discipline." Even as he spoke, Song Ning checked the updated range: the three Indian fighters were barely 100 kilometres away, almost directly ahead, with his own aircraft at their three o'clock. The range was still a touch long, but the opportunity was once in a lifetime.
"This is an encounter engagement. We have no better option. If we turn away, we'll actually be in more danger. Think about it."
"Tell me your plan." Song Ning said.
"Slip into position thirty kilometres behind them. One salvo. Then we disengage." The group captain's words were hard to resist.
"…If we don't get drawn into a dogfight."
"Relax, Major. After the missiles hit, they'll be spooked birds. They won't get a look at your markings. I guarantee it."
"You guarantee?"
"I guarantee. Now, afterburner. We're running out of time." He shoved the throttle forward.
"I'll stay to one side and observe. I will not participate in the attack."
"Fine. I'll handle it alone." The group captain replied.
Song Ning gave in. A man can always find a reason to persuade himself. This was deep inside Pakistani territory; India could not possibly know the full picture. And Beijing's orders were to collect operational data; combat itself was data.
"Major, you can hold your fire, but we need to alternate our radar sweeps. We can't let them pick up a sustained track. These French systems are sensitive."
"Copy." Song Ning glanced down. The target data had gone stale; the group captain had already shut off his radar. Sami was cunning: he was worried that a prolonged track would trigger the enemy's RWR. Song Ning switched on 02's radar and resumed tracking.
Their speed quickly reached 1,000 kilometres per hour. The J-10 pair began a right turn. The Mirages had entered the J-10's medium-range missile envelope, but Sami still refrained from locking on. He had only two SD-10s;2 he wanted the first salvo to guarantee at least one kill. If he locked on too early, the enemy's RWR would alert the pilots and they would react. He might miss all three.
"Major, do you know why Air Headquarters never bought your medium-range missile?" The group captain suddenly asked an irrelevant question over the radio.
"How would I know? I don't do arms-trade negotiations."
"Ha. Because the missile contains Israeli technology, and part of our funding comes from Saudi Arabia."
"I had no idea you looked at it that way." Song Ning almost laughed; the answer was absurd. But the g-forces in the turn squeezed his chest and he could not get the laugh out. He had to clench his throat and push air upward to keep blood flowing to his head.
"Well, now your missiles get to prove their worth in combat," the group captain said.
Sixty kilometres away, Captain Matanga3 of IAF No. 1 Squadron sat tensely in his cockpit. He had noticed something troubling. For the past two minutes, a faint, intermittent radiation source had been lurking behind his formation's flank. It flickered between X-band and L-band, never settling into a tracking mode, but in the last forty seconds it had been growing steadily stronger. An ominous sign. The scan rate was too fast for a mechanically scanned radar, and the angle was wrong for a ground station.
An hour ago, at the briefing, No. 1 Squadron's intelligence officer had assured the pilots that no Pakistani AWACS would be in the area. The officer had spoken with complete confidence, claiming they had mapped the AWACS's operating patterns and that the aircraft had all been drawn north. This was supposed to be the ideal moment for Operation Hurricane. The situation on the ground appeared to say otherwise.
"Tiger Two, check the radar emission at five o'clock. Something isn't right."
"Tiger One, I see it too. Could be an AWACS a few hundred kilometres out."
"They promised us this mission would be trouble-free. What's going on? Tiger Three, prepare electronic countermeasures."
1. Khushab heavy-water plant (胡萨布重水工厂): The Khushab Nuclear Complex in Punjab, Pakistan, roughly 200 km south of Islamabad. It houses four unsafeguarded heavy-water reactors producing weapons-grade plutonium and tritium for Pakistan's nuclear arsenal. An Indian strike on Khushab would represent a direct attack on Pakistan's nuclear infrastructure, a catastrophic escalation. Sami's unspoken motive for wanting to engage is to protect this target. ↩
2. SD-10 (SD-10导弹): The export designation of the PL-12 (霹雳-12), a Chinese active radar-homing medium-range air-to-air missile comparable to the AIM-120 AMRAAM. "SD" stands for Shan Dian (闪电, "Lightning"). The J-10B carries these on its centre-body stations. Sami's aircraft 01 has only two; Song Ning's 02 has a full load. ↩
3. Captain Matanga (马汤加上尉): A pilot with IAF No. 1 Squadron "Tigers," flying one of the three Mirage 2000Hs on the deep-strike mission. His suspicion that the intermittent radar source is a fighter rather than an AWACS shows tactical competence, but he has no way to confirm it without breaking his own radio silence. ↩