Kim Possible Porn Story: Summertime Blues Chapter 7

Kim Possible Porn Story: Summertime Blues Chapter 7

Assorted Legal Mumbo-Jumbo:

As usual, I dont own Kim Possible or anything associated with her. All KP-related items are the property of the Disney Channel and their army of ravenous lawyers who are the reason that Im writing this. I suppose that the story idea itself could be construed as mine, but that doesnt mean that the legal eagles out there wont try to claim otherwise.

In any case, read the story, leave a review, and look both ways before crossing the street.

(The preceding contains 100 Grade A disclaimer.)

Enjoy!

– Chapter Seven –

A blur of bright pink streaked through rush hour traffic at break-neck speed, brokering no argument from any vehicle so foolish as to get in its drivers way. The audaciously colored coupe slashed and weaved its way through throngs of commuters and lunchtime drivers, paying heed to neither speed limits nor turn signals, its driver clearly a person on a mission.

And indeed, its driver was a mission. Hanging a hard right as she exited the freeway, Kim Possible tightened her grip on the wheel and gritted her teeth. She was used to extreme situations by now, having faced death and disaster more times than any ten ordinary people put together, but there were some situations that still managed to put her on edge. She squinted slightly and muttered an oath as she mentally reviewed her current circumstances.

So far, this had been the day from hell. She had been awoken at 6:30 that morning by the sound of an explosion, only to learn that her brothers had destroyed her laptop and her I-pod as part of a failed attempt to launch a food processor into low earth orbit.

Things had pretty much gone downhill from there.

Her morning shift at Club Banana had been a marathon of continually re-straightening displays, answering dumb questions, and smiling at snippy customers who seemed to blame her for the fact that they could no longer fit their own flabby selves into a size six. Doubly gorchy was the fact that Monique had called in sick with a stomach virus, leaving Kim to face the onslaught alone.

The cherry on top of it all came later in the day, however, when a certain buxom brunette had strode haughtily into the store bearing looks that could kill and an attitude that could induce vomiting.

To spite what the status of summer school student might lead one to believe, Bonnie Rockwaller was by no means stupid. The former cheerleader and aspiring vixen could be quite devious in her own twisted way, and such talents would occasionally manifest themselves in chilling form. In the current case, she had learned that Club Banana employees were required to remain pleasant and polite at all times, no matter how rude, obnoxious, or otherwise out-of-line a customer may be. For Kim, it was like going into a fight with both her hands tied behind her back, and for Bonnie, it was like an open invitation to cop an attitude. In the bronzed beautys view of the world, this was simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Needless to say, by the time her shift ended, Kim was a virtual basket case, ready to spin around a punch the first person that so much as dared to look at her cross-eyed. A dangerous rage burned within her as she made her way across town, heading for the one thing that she knew would calm and soothe her frayed nerves before she wound up doing something that would test the limits of the phrase justifiable homicide.

The sloth barely slowed as it cruised through the service gate at Middleton Airport, with Kim briskly flashing her Global Justice I.D. as she passed the startled security guard. The modified suspension was put to the test as multiple speed bumps barely stunted the cars forward progress, and the final turn was nearly completed on two wheels as she brought the vehicle to a stop inside the garage area at the back of the familiar building.

Taking several deep, cleansing breaths, she gradually released her vice-like grip of the steering wheel, unclipped her safety belt, and stepped out of the car. She knew why she was here, and she knew what she needed to do. However, she also knew that she had to take the proper attitude before she entered. If she were to allow her anger to get the best of her, or otherwise lose control of her actions, then she would risk losing everything in the throes of an unintended outburst. She had to remain calm She had to be steady.

Finally, after several moments of mental preparation, Kim took one last breath and opened the double doors leading to the next room.

The sight that greeted her emerald-green eyes was something that qualified as the first humorous thing she had seen that day. There, perched precariously atop a stepladder with a rag in one hand and a bottle of carnauba wax in the other, was the animated vestige of her boyfriend. Wearing a threadbare pair of cargo pants and a tank top, he was enthusiastically buffing his beloved bird to a high-gloss shine, all the while waxing in time to the beat of an Oh Boys track that came blasting from a nearby boom box. Kim couldnt help but giggle slightly as she took note of Rufus, vigorously rubbing his own rag in small circles, diligently working on his own patch of plane.

After allowing herself a few moments to take in the silliness of it all, she decided it was finally time to make her presence known.

Whoa! Uh Hey there, K.P.! Ron nervously stammered as he turned around to identify the source of the sound behind him. So How long have you been, (gulp), standing there?

Long enough. Kim replied with a knowing smirk, causing an apparent majority of Rons blood to rush to his face. Waxing the wings, are we?

Wha Oh, yeah. Were just about done with the left side. Ron replied, nodding toward the object of his current attention. Hey! You wanna help out?

Ordinarily, yeah. Kim responded, her mood suddenly turning sullen. But right now Ive got something else on my plate.

With this admission, Ron turned to face his girlfriend fully, noticing for the first time her melancholy demeanor. As someone who had known the redhead for nearly her entire life, he could read her moods like a book, and the current chapter looked to be a somewhat less than happy one.

I know youre busy right now and what not, Kim continued, but could you spare about ten minutes or so? Its just been one of those days so far, and I I

You need a little shot of Ronshine to pull you through? Ron asked, guessing where Kim was going with the conversation.

Kim simply nodded in silence, bringing her arms up to embrace herself and shuddering slightly. To Ron, the simple gesture spoke volumes, and he knew exactly what needed to be done.

Okay Rufus, take five! he called over to his tiny pink assistant. Theres some premium smoked cheddar in the mini fridge. Go knock yourself out.

At the mere mention of cheese, Rufus needed no second invitation. With a tiny salute he was off in a pink blur, heading for the kitchenette in the next room, turning the boom box off as he passed.

Carefully climbing down from his perch on the ladder, Ron gently put a comforting arm around his girlfriends shoulders, (a gesture which she gratefully accepted), and led them both back through the double doors leading to the break room.

No sooner was the pair seated on the large sofa that lined one side of the room, before Kim had pulled in close to Ron, wrapping both her arms around his chest and nestling her face deep into the crook of his shoulder. She sighed contentedly as Ron tenderly drew his arms around her and began to gently massage the tense muscles of her back and shoulders.

Tension and stress now ebbed away like the tide, quickly giving way relaxation and bliss. Any and all thoughts of the days disastrous events were forgotten as her world now shrank to a tiny sphere encompassing only her and Ron. It was a harsh and chaotic world at times, she had to admit, and sometimes she questioned whether it was even worth saving, but as long as she had this, then she could make it through. She could see her way clear to fight another day, just as long as she had Ron along with her. He was her center, her emotional anchor, and in his arms she found a source of strength and belonging that she had never found anywhere else, and the longer she lived, the more strongly she became convinced that she never would.

She sighed again, craning her face upward to lightly nuzzle a particular spot just below his ear. It was one of his ticklish zones, she had long ago learned, and the reflexive giggle it elicited from him was like music to her own ears. She tried her best to look innocent as he glanced downward with a knowing smirk, then pulled her even closer to himself, gently kissing the top of her forehead through her auburn locks.

Oh yeah This was definitely just what the doctor ordered.

She craned her neck even further to capture his lips with her own when an all-too familiar sound roared through the tender silence like a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerine plant.

What? Kim growled, a little more harshly than she intended to, as Wades familiar image appeared on the flat screen TV that adorned the wall opposite the sofa.

Oh, uhhhhh Bad time, guys? Wade nervously stammered, his pre-teen mind stumbling awkwardly through the sitch.

Ferociously. Kim informed.

Well, I can uh call back later, if you want.

Just forget about it, Wade. The moments already gone. Kim lamented. What have you got for us?

Two things actually. Wade replied. First, I think Ive managed to pinpoint the target area of our next clue.

Well thats certainly good news! Ron chimed in, loosening his grip on Kim to lean forward and take in the conversation.

And second? Kim inquired.

Theres a secondary mission for you guys to take care of on your way there. Im uploading all of the particulars to Sky Rats onboard computers now. Wade dutifully informed. Briefing materials, maps, intelligence reports, itll all be there by the time you get the engines up and running.

Okay, Wade. Were on the job. Kim replied, reluctantly extricating herself from Rons embrace and rising to her feet. Well beep you once were in the air.

Roger that. Wade out! And the oversized screen went black.

Well, it looks like duty calls. Kim sighed, heading toward her locker in the back corner of the room.

Yeah, it always does. Ron lamented, quickly following Kims lead as he too fetched his flight suit and the duo began to gear up.

Were going to do what?

Uh, land?

On that little flyspeck?

Kim, that flyspeck is over twelve hundred feet long.

I dont care! It looks like a floating postage stamp from up here, and Im not liking the possibilities.

Hey! This isnt something I havent done before, after all!

Well, I suppose thats a little comfort.

I mean, Im bound to get it right sooner or later, arent I?

And thats not.

To be honest, Kim didnt know why she was so nervous about the current sitch. Sure, she had heard of carrier landings being referred to as controlled crashes, but Ron was right, after all: He had done this dozens of times and enjoyed the benefits of some of the best training available anywhere. He could put a 50 million dollar airplane down onto a pitching carrier deck in bad weather, stop it on a dime, and give you nine cents change when he was done. He was one of the elite few, and there was no one in the world that she would trust more with the task at hand.

But still, there was just something about trying to land an airframe as large as a Tomcat onto a piece of floating real estate not much larger than a football field that set her pulse to racing. There was zero margin for error here, and so many things that could go wrong. As a salty old carrier sailor once observed, There are far more airplanes in the ocean then there are submarines in the sky.

Mad Dog One, this is Pri-Fly. You are clear to the slot. Came the sudden radio call, startling Kim out of her thoughts. Call the ball.

Roger ball. Was Rons snappily brief reply, and with that statement, he dipped his left wing and began the wide, sweeping turn that would bring them in line with the Thors expansive flight deck.

With her RIO duties completed for this mission, Kim was now relegated to the role of passenger while Ron took them through their approach. Instinctively, she reached up to grip the hand holds that were mounted behind the headrest of Rons seat and swallowed hard. She felt the wings level out and chanced a cautious glance forward, feeling her heart leap as she saw the massive flight deck suddenly accelerate toward them, quickly changing from a tiny speck in the ocean below to a great mass of asphalt and steel that filled the windscreen. As the final moments of flight rapidly raced away, she closed her eyes and held her breath.

What happened next was a cacophony of sound, playing itself out through the entire cockpit: The roar of the engines as Ron pushed the throttle to full afterburner, the chirp of rubber tires kissing the deck, the metallic clang of the tail hook impacting the same, and the high-pitched whine of the arrestor cable playing itself out through the giant spools that lined either side of the aft deck.

Then there was the sensation of falling as the sudden deceleration pitched her forward into her harness. She could feel a distinct sting as the heavy nylon straps dug into her shoulders, promising to leave bruises that would be reminding her of this experience for at least the next few days.

Finally, there was a bouncing back sensation as Sky Rat came to a complete stop, then rolled back slightly under the tension of the arrestor cable.

By the time she opened her eyes, Sky Rat was surrounded by a buzz of activity. As Ron retracted their tail hook, a large group of the deck crew swarmed in to secure the plane. Some checked the wings and fuselage for any loose of damaged equipment, while two others approached with folding stepladders to assist the team out of the cockpit. To the front a trio approached to attach one of the ships many pusher tractors to the nose wheel. It wasnt but a few moments before they had been maneuvered away from the center of the landing strip and onto one of the four massive elevators that ringed the perimeter of the deck. A few moments longer, and they were safely ensconced below deck, within the confines of the cavernous hangar.

Just another day at the office, eh KP? Ron jovially asked, glancing back as he pulled off his helmet.

Most offices dont go from two hundred miles per hour to a dead stop in under five seconds. Kim dryly observed, rubbing the soreness from her aching shoulders. How do you ever get used to that?

You get used to never getting used to it. Ron replied as the canopy cracked open, admitting a sudden burst of fresh salt air. Its just part of the job.

Ever consider a comfy desk job somewhere?

Occasionally, but I stick around here because I like the hours.

Natch.

Gotta go with what works.

And with that, the two teen heroes dismounted to the ground and began walking hand-in-hand toward the stairway that would take them deep into the steel bowels of their temporary home away from home.

All in all, life on an aircraft carrier wasnt as bad as one might expect. Sure, it was cramped, somewhat sterile, and left something to be desired in terms of privacy, but it wasnt without its good points as well. The entire vessel was the very image of supreme organization, leaving one always aware of what was happening and when. If there was ever a problem, there were clear-cut guidelines of where and whom to go to, and you could always count on those around you to be where you needed them, when you needed them there.

And even the cramped conditions themselves held certain advantages, surprisingly enough. This was something that Kim would have never suspected on her own, but it nonetheless was made perfectly clear that evening when the nightly call of lights out went round.

Unlike enlisted personnel who were forced to literally share bunks in a practice known as warm racking, commissioned officers enjoyed the privacy of their own stateroom. However, unlike the spacious cabins of the same name that were normally available on cruise ships, a stateroom on a carrier wasnt much bigger than your average-sized walk-in closet. The six-by-ten foot room was sparsely furnished, providing little more than a bunk, a writing desk, a small wardrobe cabinet, and a sink in the corner. More extensive bathroom facilities were located at the end of the corridor, but when it came to ones personal space, the simple stainless steel washbasin was about as luxurious as things got.

For a young woman used to the normal routine of feminine primping and personal maintenance, such minimalist facilities represented a major adjustment, but it was the bunk that had grabbed Kims attention most of all.

Like everything else about the diminutive space, it fell on the small side of normal, and that in turn presented certain advantages. Without the ample real estate that they were both accustomed to, she and Ron were forced to lay close against each other: Perhaps closer than they had ever slept before.

It was a maneuver born of necessity that quickly grew into something much more enjoyable. Months earlier, before Ron had enlisted, the rides they accepted in the backs of dusty cargo planes and military transports provided some of their best quality time together as a couple. With the pilots well occupied in the cockpit and several hours to kill, some of their most enjoyable make-out sessions had taken place among stacks of anonymous packing crates and miscellaneous equipment. Kim often remembered such experiences fondly, and lamented the fact that with Ron now most often being the one at the controls, such amorous activities were far fewer and farther between.

But now, alone together in the dark, a golden opportunity was presented: An opportunity to make up for lost time.

Never being one to take the passive approach, Kim was quick to seize the initiative, pulling tight against Rons left side and allowing him to wrap his arm around her. Gently, she slid her hand up onto his chest and allowed her slender fingers to dexterously undo the top two buttons of his pajamas. Soon, she was tracing small circles with her fingertips in the light curls of hair that adorned the space between his pecks, feeling the taught definition of the muscles that had been developing there for over a year now.

Moaning slightly, Ron leaned down ad kissed the top of her head, prompting Kim to look up and capture his lips with her own. The kiss quickly deepened in its intensity, however, and within moments Kim had rolled herself on top of him, kissing him ravenously and allowing him to return the favor in equal measure. Hands explored and tongues fought for dominance over one another. Breath came in ragged gasps, and sensations of pure electric energy raced up and down their spines and throughout their entire bodies. It was perhaps more intimate than either of them had ever been with each other, and it wasnt until sheer exhaustion from the days events caught up with them that the decision was made to finally break it off for the night. Needless to say, neither of them got much sleep that night, but the sleep that was had was of the most wonderful sort, both their dreams filled with nothing but good knowing that the other was there right beside them.

A few hours later, following a hearty breakfast on of the ships many mess decks, the duo found themselves in full flight gear and sitting in one of the five ready rooms that could be found along the starboard side of the gallery deck, just between the flight deck above, and the hangar deck below.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as over two dozen young men and women awaited word of what their destination would be on this day. Some sat idly in the comfortable theater-style chairs that filled the room, while others stood along the rooms periphery, either lounging against the wall of pacing nervously back and forth. Some anxiously twiddled their thumbs, and some fidgeted with the clasp of their wristwatch, or whatever odd item they had managed to procure.

Kim slowly took in the scene, noting how the tension was almost palpable. Whatever was brewing this morning, it was big, and she mentally braced herself for whatever was going to happen next.

A quick glance to her left made her feel somewhat better about the entire sitch. Ron was sitting right beside her, a look of growing intensity quickly spreading across his face. It was what she had come to know as his game face, and it indicated that he was working his way into a mental position where he would be ready for action, physically and mentally prepared for whatever challenges the job may present.

Kim had to marvel at the novelty of the situation. Barely a year ago, she would have never expected Ron to be capable of such laser-like focus and intensity. Even when he displayed his serious face, he was laid back and easily distracted. His scattered thought patterns and child-like wonder inhibited his ability to focus on any important task, and made living up to his true potential a truly daunting task.

But ever since his enlistment, Ron had changed. The playful and carefree side of him that she loved so much was still there to be certain, but now, when the situation called for it, he would become steadfast and focused: a burning intensity showing through from behind his chocolate brown eyes. He would commit himself fully to the task at hand, and execute his duties with both precision and determination: As ferocious as a tiger, and as serious as a heart attack.

He had grown so much in just a few short months that Kim sometimes found herself star-struck. She could only gaze in awe at what this loose and loveable loafer had become what he had transformed himself into and that he had done it all for her. Indeed, he had stated emphatically on multiple occasions that his entire motivation for joining the Eagles had been his overwhelming desire to prove himself worthy of her, and to become a better partner to her in the process. For three months he had forged a path through the fires of Hell, and had emerged a changed person on the other side: Tempered and hardened by the flames, but still maintaining the wondrous spark of his beautiful soul.

With Ron now firmly entrenched within the zone, he was oblivious to the world around him, and Kim could only continue to gaze at this stoic image of duty and determination. She quickly found herself becoming lost in his stone-set stare, and nearly jumped out of her seat when the stillness of the room was disturbed by the sudden entrance of their squadrons commanding officer.

Eyes front, Eagles! he briskly started off, walking swiftly to the podium that graced the front of the room. We dont have a lot of time here, so Im only going to say this once. I suggest that you all pay attention.

My staff assistants are now passing out your briefing packets. He continued, as a rustling sound from the back of the room indicated that the aforementioned materials were indeed being dispersed. Hereafter, this operation will be referred to as Operation Rollback.

Kims attention shifted to her side as one of the junior enlisted men in the room shoved a small stack of manila folders under her nose. Briskly, she took two for herself and Ron, and passed the rest forward. After handing Ron his materials, she quickly opened her own folder and began to follow along. At the same time, a curtain behind the podium parted to reveal a large, flat-screen television with a graphic display showing the plotted route and waypoints of the planned mission.

Rollback, ladies and gentlemen, the officer started again, is a two-pronged strike mission against a large industrial complex located here, on the island of Xiamen, off the central coast of China. The facilities here are owned and operated by this man. The screen suddenly switched to an image of a well-groomed man with a purple shirt, black sport coat, and a smiling face that Kim found all-too familiar.

Jack Hench. She growled under her breath, taking note of the look of recognition that played out across Rons face as well.

HenchCo, as his organization is known, the officer continued, is the worlds largest manufacturer and supplier of advanced aggression-based technologies to the private sector. He read the last line with a strong tint of sarcasm in his voice, clearly disgusted with the creatively worded euphemism that Henchs lawyers used to protect the company from being labeled a criminal enterprise.

Our intelligence recently indicated that HenchCo soon plans to release a new line of combat-equipped robots that the company is referring to as Destructo-Droids. The speaker continued. Although HenchCo has produced similar technology in the past, this development represents a major step up in capability. For this model year, HenchCos droids will feature fire-and-forget missile systems, upgraded laser cannons, advanced infra-red and motion sensors, situation-adaptable programming, and will be available in three stylish new colors including Caribbean Blue, Hunter Green, and Onyx.

Oooooh! They should do well with that! Ron quietly remarked. Green is supposed to be in this year.

Kim simply laid a light elbow into his ribs and returned her attention to the front.

Clearly, we cannot allow such advanced weaponry to fall into the hands of this planets more unsavory individuals, the speaker continued once again, so to that end, we have marked this installation for destruction. As the primary production center for HenchCos droids, crippling the facilities here will shut down the entire operation.

The plan is a s follows: The main strike force will approach from the north-by-northeast, flying along a heading of one-nine-five degrees at an altitude of 26,000 feet. An advanced force will precede the main force by a distance of two miles, flying at 20,000 feet.

Recon reports that the facilities here are protected by a integrated air-defense network with SAM batteries concentrated here, along the eastern boundary of the complex, and to the northwest near this cluster of buildings. Therefore the advance force will consist of four F-4/Gs, functioning in a Wild Weasel role. The boys from VAQ-4 will be equipped with AGM-88s for this task.

Wild weasel? Kim whispered, leaning over toward Ron.

Diversionary tactic. Ron quietly explained. They trick enemy radars into revealing their positions by targeting them, then turn around and roast the jerks with anti-radiation missiles.

Ah, gotcha.

The main force will be a composite group consisting of six A-6s from squadron VB-6, and six A-7s from VA-12. The speaker continued on, unabated. VB-6 will be carrying GBU-32 ordinance and will strike here, destroying these large buildings near the center of the complex. These structures are the primary production facility, and contain all of the assembly and sub-assembly lines in the plant, as well as the onsite power generation facility. If we take out this infrastructure, we cut the heart out of HenchCos entire operation. Are there any questions so far?

When his question was answered with nothing but silence, the officer continued.

Good! As VB-6 exits the target area, VAL-12 will sweep in low around the western boundary of the complex and attack the area here, to the south. These warehouses here are the shipping and receiving department, where all incoming raw materials are processed, and finished products are shipped to HenchCos customers around the world. Our Corsairs will attack with a load-out of CBU-72s that should prove effective both against the warehouses and any vehicles parked nearby. Once this is accomplished, VAL-12 will then turn back into the target area and complete another pass, this time engaging any targets of opportunity with strafing attacks.

Okay So far, so good. Kim silently observed to herself. But that leaves the question of where do we fit into all of this.

Which brings me to the subject of our escorting squadrons. The officer then stated.

Bingo.

Our latest intel reports that HenchCo has recently obtained a small number of fourth-generation interceptors through a third party based somewhere in Europe. We believe these aircraft to be either Eurofighter Typhoons or Dassault Rafales, although at this time we are unable to determine which. If engaged by these craft, remember your spotting features and try to verify their identity: The Typhoon has box-shaped intakes under its fuselage, while the Rafale sports a uniquely-shaped refueling tube from its upper-right side.

There is a civilian airport on the mainland to the west where we expect the HenchCo squadron to be based. However, there is also heavy civilian traffic in the vicinity, so be sure to positively identify your targets before engaging. This is a politically sensitive part of the world folks We cant afford a major incident. Questions?

Yes sir. One airman in the back spoke up, raising his hand. What are the anticipated air-to-air threats?

At this time, we believe the enemy to be in possession of AA-11 Archer heat seeking missiles, although we believe these to be the older R-73 variant with the associated reduced range. Also, we do not believe that these weapons possess the helmet-mounted targeting capability or advanced counter-countermeasures of the frontline AA-11 models.

BVR? the airman inquired.

At this time, our intel does not indicate the enemy to be in possession of beyond visual range capability. Came the reply. Anything else?

No sir.

Very well, then. He continued. Escort duties will be carried out by selected elements of squadrons VF-4 and VF-5, organized into four teams of four ships each. Call signs for each group are listed in the briefing reports youre currently holding. These groups will position themselves in a protective position above and behind the main force, trailing by a distance of a half-mile at an altitude of 32,000 feet. In the interest of preventing collateral damage, said units are instructed not to fire unless fired upon.

A few muttered oaths could be heard filtering through the room as this was said. A notoriously aggressive and self-motivated lot, fighter pilots hated going into battle with their hands tied. Having to submit themselves to restrictive rules of engagement was something that usually went over about as well as a waterproof sponge.

Following this, all units will rendezvous here, at the location labeled Point Recall, four nautical miles due south of the target. S-3 tankers of VAK-1 will be stationed at positions here and here along the route for those of you who need it, and an E-2 from squadron VAW-1 will be keeping watch over you for the duration. If you need a status report on the tactical situation, his call sign will be Ghost Eye. The officer concluded. Youll then return to formation and head home to what should be one heckuva party! Last one to catch a wire buys the drinks!

That remark elicited a faint smattering of laughter from the room.

Are there any other questions?

Not a word was spoken in reply.

All right then Theres nothing to it but to do it, folks! the officer bellowed, straightening him self to look out across the room. Dismissed!

Wow. He sure doesnt beat around the bush much, does he? Kim observed, rising up out of her seat to follow the rest of the squadron out the door.

Yeah. Commander Argus does tend to favor the direct approach. Ron replied as the group turned into a narrow corridor and headed for the nearby escalator that would take them to the flight deck above. I heard that he once danced the Minute Waltz in thirty seconds.

Lets hear it for brevity. Kim responded as they stepped onto the moving staircase and began their ascent toward the wide-open and windswept space above.

Altitude has a surprising way of bringing clarity to the world; many people might be surprised to learn. Accustomed to their normal sea-level lives, most individuals dont realize the visual distortion caused by simple air molecules. Distant objects become blurry, and a light haze constantly surrounds us all. Its like perpetually looking at the world through screen door, and the majority of people simply take it all for granted.

For Kim Possible, this lesson was now being driven home with crystal clarity. Soaring more than six miles above the open sea, she found she could see more than forty miles in all directions. Objects so far away that they would be lost over the horizon at lower altitudes now became easily identifiable, and she found she could just make out the slightest hint of the earths curvature.

Glancing to her left and right, she took note of the three other Tomcats that were dutifully riding their wings in fingertip formation. These were the other members of Rons team, and it was their collective job to anchor the right flank of the Eagles defensive line. To their left, another team from the Red Tails could be seen in their assigned positions, and beyond that, the two teams of their counterpart squadron appeared just as ready.

She took note of the elegant paint scheme carried by the F-18 Hornets of this second group. While the majority of the airframe was done in a light gray, there was a narrow V of royal blue outlined in gold that started mid-ship, right between the wings. Widening as it swept forward, the sides of this blue field curved gracefully down the sides of the fuselage until they met once again beneath the cockpit, leaving the entire nose of the aircraft in a truly regal tone.

It was a motif with a meaning, Kim had learned, for these were the Blue-Nosed Bastards of squadron VF-5, and they enjoyed a reputation nearly as outstanding as the Red Tails. It was an effective one-two punch that the enemy would be hard pressed to counter.

Ahead of and below them, the planes of the strike team were maintaining their own positions. Craning her neck to look over Rons shoulder, Kim could clearly see the familiar outlines of Vought A-7 Corsairs, bearing broad, yellow stripes on their wings, fuselages and tails. These were the Yellow Jackets of VA-12: A light-attack squadron with a reputation for swift precision that would be the envy of most top-notch surgeons.

To the Yellowjackets left flew the A-6/E Intruders of VB-6: The Windreapers. Packing clusters of 1,000-pound satellite-guided bombs under their wings, they would be the first to put steel on target: The last delivery that this particular factory would ever receive.

Ahead of it all, in the far-off distance, she could see the quartet of F-4 Phantoms flown by the Phantasms of VAQ-4, their solid-black tails bearing the stylized silhouette of a goblins face. These four planes were the vanguard of the group the sharp end of the stick and the fate of the entire mission hinged on their ability to do their job.

Under any other circumstances, Kim would have found this to be cause for great concern. As an ordinarily take-charge sort of person, she was used to handling things herself, taking her own fate in her own hands. Delegating responsibility in this way just wasnt part of her usual modus operandi.

But in this sitch, however, she felt she could relax somewhat. In the few short months that she had been working with the Eagles, she had come to know them as a group of pure professionals, skilled in their abilities and dedicated to their duty. If she could count on anyone, it would be this group of people. She could count on them more than anyone else in the world.

Well, with the obvious exception of the one person currently seated in front of her, of course.

Glancing down at her displays, she took a quick note of the tactical situation. Nothing appeared out of place, as the only blips on her screen were clearly identified as being friendly. She began cycling through other scan modes, just to be sure, when she became aware of a faint sound. It started small at first, barely audible over the sound of the engines, but it quickly grew, taking on a melodic, almost musical nature.

It took several seconds to realize that the sound was coming from in front of her, and her curiosity was piqued even further when she recognized its exact source. Ron was seated in front of her, both hands on the controls, eyes intensely focused, and he was humming. It took a few more moments before Kim recognized the familiar strains of the Battle Hymn of the Republic, and before she knew it, lyrics were accompanying the tune.

When I was a little lad, t’was only seventeen…

The sorriest excuse for a man that you have ever seen…

And then the Thunder Eagles came and made a man of me…

Now the thunder rolls in me.

It was a beautiful reconstruction of the time-honored lyrics, Kim had to admit, and she continued to listen in silence as the volume of Rons voice steadily built

Glory, glory, I’ll be screaming through the sky…

Glory, glory, I am not afraid to die…

Glory, glory, burning bright for all to see…

The thunder rolls in me.

Slowly, other voices began to join in over the open radio frequency, building steadily in their intensity like the wrath of an approaching storm, and an entire chorus soon filled sky

When evil marches forward and the end it seems grows nigh…

I shall stand against the darkness and shall spit right in its eye…

Bearing justice as my weapon I shall slay it by and by…

The thunder rolls in me.

Glory, glory, I’ll be screaming through the sky…

Glory, glory, I am not afraid to die…

Glory, glory, burning bright for all to see…

The thunder rolls in me.

Kims heart seemed to soar with the music as nearly 100 voices joined forces, belting forth in perfect harmony, bolstering their collective spirits and steeling themselves for the fight ahead.

And through the snow and wind and hail and darkness of the night…

I shall always do my duty, always keeping up the fight…

Upholding freedom’s honor, always doing what is right…

The thunder rolls in me.

Glory, glory, I’ll be screaming through the sky…

Glory, glory, I am not afraid to die…

Glory, glory, burning bright for all to see…

The thunder rolls in me.

And in your darkest hour, you can lay your fears to rest…

Bearing peace beneath my wings, your safety always is my quest…

Sleep in peace tonight, you are protected by the best…

The thunder rolls in me.

Glory, glory, I’ll be screaming through the sky…

Glory, glory, I am not afraid to die…

Glory, glory, burning bright for all to see…

The thunder rolls in me.

The patriotic splendor could have very well gone on longer, for all that Kim knew, but any further musical ruminations were cut short by a sudden burst of radio chatter.

Phantasm One to Control One! Weve got active radar on scope! Repeat: Active targeting by ground-based defenses! Permission to engage!

Roger that, Phantasm One. Came the flat and unemotional reply. You are clear to engage selected targets. Good luck and good hunting.

Copy that, control. We have the green light to engage. Okay, boys Lets light this candle!

From her position high above and behind the formation, Kim could see the familiar image of the Phantoms roll and break downward toward their targets far below, quickly disappearing into the patch clouds that lay beneath them. From that distance, it looked as though they had simply vanished into thin air, and she suddenly felt struck by the sheer magnitude of what was happening.

Any further philosophizing on the matter was quickly pushed aside, however, when a second burst of radio traffic rudely intruded upon the relative silence of Sky Rats cockpit.

Ghost Eye to all units! Repeat: Ghost Eye to all units! Inbound bogeys on your two oclock. Copy contacts bearing zero-seven-two degrees, angels two, Mach two. Range, two-two-eight nautical miles.

Sounds like thats the welcoming committee. One of the team commanders observed.

So we gonna go introduce ourselves to the new neighbors, then?

Affirmative! My mother always did tell me to be neighborly. The same voice responded. Just remember to positively identify your targets. We need to know what were up against here, and we cant risk any civilian casualties.

Roger that.

Okay then All teams status report go or no-go!

Rapier flight, GO!

Bolo flight, GO!

Cutlass flight, GO!

Ron momentarily paused to take a quick glance over his shoulder at the three other Tomcats of his team.

Saber flight, GO!

All right then Confirm we are go for engagement! Lets show em what were made of, boys!

And at that command, 16 aircraft turned in unison, steering an intercept course with the anonymous blips on their radarscopes.

Talk to me, K.P. Ron said as he completed his turn. What have we got out there?

Looks like two dozen individual aircraft. Kim informed, her slender fingers deftly racing over the controls before her. The newly-installed AESA radar system was a quantum leap beyond the older, mechanically-scanned model, possessing the ability to actively track almost a hundred separate contacts, and at far greater ranges and resolutions that had been previously possible. The signals are week, so these things have a low radar cross-section, but theyre there.

Okay, then. Lets get this ship ready to fight! Ron responded, quickly reaching to the flat-panel touch screens before him and switching his own radar display from vertical-scan to bore-sight mode. Instantly, the configuration of several key video displays changed, as did the graphics being projected onto the heads-up display in the Tomcats windscreen.

His own view changed at this moment as well, as the newly-installed helmet-mounted display flickered to life, projecting a variety of navigational and targeting data directly onto the visor of his flight helmet. This little bit of technology would make life considerably easier in the future, as its use meant that targeting another plane would no longer require turning his own. He could now lock onto a target simply by turning his head and looking at it.

One minute to visual range. Kim called out.

Roger that. You ready for this, K.P?

Kim swallowed hard. Sure, she had flown with Ron on several occasions by this point, but this was her first time riding with him into actual combat. It was virgin territory for her, and it gave her a distinct sense of unease. Even with all of the training and instruction she had gone through since the day she agreed to become Rons RIO, there was something about strapping in and flying into battle for the first time that put her on edge.

She supposed that it was the same for every soldier stepping onto his first battlefield. It was certainly the same when she accepted her first mission, she recalled. Standing before the imposing gates of the Paisley estate, the butterflies in her stomach had been so bad that it was as if she had swallowed a caterpillar farm. The instinct to turn and run had been almost irresistible, but it had been ultimately overcome by one simple fact: The fact that Ron was right there beside her.

And it was this thought that suddenly snapped her mind back to the situation at hand. Ron had been there for her on that night so long ago, and although neither of them would have ever suspected as much at the time, his actions had served to set them both on the life-path leading to the point where they now found themselves. Ron had helped her to become a warrior that night, and now he needed her to do the same for him.

And it would be a cold day in Hell before she would ever let him down.

Ready! she replied emphatically. Lets make some turbulence!

Screaming into the merge at a combined 1,300 miles per hour, it wasnt but a few seconds before the opposing force came into view on the horizon. A few thousand feet below and climbing steadily, the outline of their delta wings and canard-style elevators was clearly visible against the blanket of brilliant white clouds beneath them. Ron sharply rolled Sky Rat 40 degrees onto its left side for a better visual on his opponents, then made a snap decision.

Saber One to all units. Were gonna break right and sweep around their flank. With any luck, we should be able to roll these dudes up like a carpet. He said matter-of-factly.

Affirmative, Saber One. Good luck. Came the reply.

With a swift kick of the rudders and a twitch of the stick, Ron sent Sky Rat into a sharp right-hand turn, allowing the other three planes of his team to follow closely behind. Swinging wide to the right, both teens could see the two formations close the range and merge together, briefly passing before turning into one another to initiate combat. Planes twisted and climbed, violently mixing together into a roiling furball, and all the while with frantic radio chatter filling the airwaves.

Rapier Three, check you six! Youve got one behind you!

Check off! Check off! Ive got one dead ahead and closing fast!

Roger that! Taking him on the left Im going around!

Fox three! One away!

Yeah, BABY! Splash one for the good guys!

Look alive, Bolo flight! Weve got two inbound, four oclock high!

Im on it! Just keep heat off me, boys!What the heck are these things, anyway? Eurofighters?

Negative, number two. Check the fuel tubes.

French aviation Gotta love it. Ron remarked as he carefully observed the escalating fight. Not yet involved in the ruckus himself, he would wait for the right moment to commit his team to action. If he played his cards right, he surmised, the enemy would never know what hit them.

Dassault does have a history of top-notch design work. He added, thinking back to the aircraft identification course he took during his flight school days.

Yeah, thats the French for you. Kim replied. Experts at building weapons for the world, but totally clueless when it comes to using them themselves.

Oh cmon, K.P. Im sure the French military isnt that bad.

Okay then, so what was the last war that they won?

Well, lets see Hmmmmm Ummm There was the French Revolution.

Doesnt count when youre fighting yourself.

Napoleon?

Initial success Followed by getting his imperial butt kicked.

World War Two?

Youre kidding, right?

Oh, well then Ive got nothing.

Exactly! Point for me.

I didnt realize we were keeping score.

Were always keeping score, Ron. Kim smugly smiled.

Yeah, whatever. Ron groused before quickly screwing on his game face. Now hold on tight cause were going in. Saber flight, on me!

And with that command, he broke hard left and dove into the unfolding fight at break-neck speed.

Releasing the turn, Ron rolled his bird back onto a level plane and dropped the nose slightly into a shallow dive. A lightning-quick glance confirmed that his team was still in position, and ready for the attack. Another glance to the front revealed several enemy planes scattered over a wide area, somewhat removed from the main body of the fight.

Tempest, you and Rebel break right. Ron called out to his second-in-command. Splinter and I will go left. Try to sow as much confusion as you can. Splinter, watch my back.

You got it, Commander. Rons ever-faithful wingman replied.

Then lets take it to em! Ron cried out. Tally HO!

Screaming downward at Mach 0.75, Ron quickly singled out a lone Rafale that had become separated from its wingman. As he attacked from behind and to his targets right, the enemy pilot realized his predicament and broke hard across Rons path, trying to force an overshoot. Ron was having none of that, however, as he calmly dropped flaps and followed the turn, the aerodynamic effect of the flaps helping to both decelerate his speed and sharpen his turning radius.

Falling in a half-mile behind his target, he wasnt quite within gun range, but was more than close enough to fire one of his AIM-9X Sidewinder missiles. It was a thought that gave him a mental case of the warm-fuzzies.

An updated version of the classic Sidewinder, the AIM-9X was light years ahead of the venerable weapon that had been in active service since the early days of Vietnam. With jet-vane controls, it was far more agile than previous models that relied on adjustable tail fins for steering. Also, there were advanced counter-countermeasures built right in, allowing the weapons integrated brain to distinguish between an aircrafts exhaust, and the magnesium flares normally deployed by a targeted craft as thermal decoys. It featured an improved cooling system for the onboard electronics, the ability to lock targets up to 60-degrees off of bore-sight-center, and enjoyed a lock-on after launch capability. Overall, this missile could go farther, faster, turn tighter and hit harder than any of its previous incarnations. It defined the state of the art.

Holding his firing position behind the seemingly hapless Rafale, Ron was momentarily caught off guard when the enemy pilot suddenly broke back toward his left. He quickly followed suit, but soon found himself out of position, too far to the inside for a shot. He silently cursed himself, realizing that his target was too far off of his bore-sight for a traditional lock, and that the nose of his own plane obscured the target enough to prevent a lock with the helmet-mounted systems.

But none of that meant he was out of the game, of course.

Throwing the stick hard against his right knee, Ron pitched Sky Rat over into a barrel roll. In a split second, he was back in position, directly on his enemys six; the low electronic growl of the targeting computer confirming that he was locked and loaded. He squeezed the trigger.

Fox two! He called out, signaling that a heat-seeking missile was in the air.

With his onboard computers alerting him to the launch, the Rafale pilot punched flares and pulled up sharp, performing exactly as countless hours of training had conditioned him to do. Such drastic actions were to no avail, however: When it came to next-generation weaponry, the old rules were simply no longer sufficient.

With its integrated computer logic disregarding the flares, the Sidewinders revolutionary flight-control system easily held the turn and the missile tore into the Rafales left wing like a razor slicing through tissue paper. Mortally wounded, the Rafale shuddered and pitched over into a death roll. There was a momentary flash of light as the pilot punched out, with pilot, plane and canopy all going in separate directions before disappearing into the clouds below.

Splash one! Ron called out. Repeat one bandit down!

Good kill, Ron! Good kill! Kim commended from the back seat. Now lets keep our heads in the game. Theres a lot more of them out there.

Almost as if to drive the point home, Sky Rats sensors chose that exact moment to screech out a high-pitched warning.

Were being targeted! Kim shouted, her fingers racing across her stations controls, desperately trying to identify their attacker. Hes behind us and moving in for a lock!

Shooting a glance to his right, Ron confirmed that his wingman was still at his appointed station. The next words from his mouth flowed nearly without conscious thought.

Thatch weave! he shouted into his microphone.

In one fluid motion, the two Tomcats turned into each other and began to swing back and forth through a series of lazy S turns, repeatedly crossing each others paths. On the surface the maneuver may have looked like two planes out for a leisurely Sunday hop, but in reality the move was as serious as aerial combat tactics come.

The Thatch-Weave had been around since the early days of World War Two, after all. Invented by a pilot of the American Navy, the maneuver allowed two aircraft to cover one another by repeatedly crossing each others flight paths. If an enemy dropped onto the tail of one pilot, his partner could easily fall onto the enemys tail and either drive him off or dispatch with the annoying little pest entirely.

And just as it had over the crystal blue waters of the Pacific Ocean nearly 60 years before, the maneuver worked like a charm. The mutual coverage that the Tomcats afforded each other was more than sufficient to frustrate their adversarys aim.

After several seconds of futility, the Rafale decided to cut bait and retreat, rather than risk having a third Tomcat crash the party and make his life considerably more difficult. Rons muscles tensed as he prepared to wheel Sky Rat around and pursue this would-be attacker, the aggressive spirit of a fighter pilot quickly taking hold of his actions. He was just about to bank hard when Kims voice redirected his attention elsewhere.

Check it out! Down there! she frantically shouted.

Down where? Ron inquired, equally frantically.

Down there! Kim clarified, pointing wildly. Ten oclock low and coming across!

Rolling Sky Rat slightly for a better view, Ron quickly recognized what had caught his girlfriends attention. A blue-nosed Hornet was streaking across the sky below them, a lone Rafale hot on its tail. It didnt take a decorated pilot to realize the predicament of the Hornet, or the advantageous position of the Rafale.

Reacting reflexively to the sight of a fellow Eagle in trouble, Ron instantly forgot all about the enemy plane he had just been about to pursue. Jamming the stick hard left, he kicked rudder and pulled back, rolling over into a screaming, inverted dive. A high-pitched mechanical whir could be heard throughout the cockpit as the Tomcats wings swept back at the sudden increase of speed, and moments later the entire airframe shuddered with the resounding rapport of a sonic boom as Sky Rat passed Mach one.

Rolling back into an upright position, Ron took careful note of the relative positions of all the planes involved. He was approaching his target at an extremely sharp angle, forcing him into a high angle of deflection. He was too close for missiles by this point, and the Tomcats gun sight that normally compensated for such variables was ineffective at such extreme angles of approach. He would have to line the shot up himself, gauging the complex relationship of speed, range and deflection through simple guesswork and dead reckoning. Adjusting his bank and pulling up lightly on the stick, Ron allowed plenty of lead, figuring that even if he missed his mark, the sight of tracers streaking across his nose would be enough to force the enemy pilot into reconsidering his course of action.

Screaming down onto his prey at Mach 1.2, he made one final adjustment and pulled the trigger. For the first time, dual GAU-22 Gatling guns roared to life, producing an ominous growl as they unleashed a hailstorm of 25-millimeter shells. Twin braids of fire burst forth from the corners of Sky Rats shark mouth insignia as the guns belched out ammunition to the tune of over 6,000 combined rounds per minute, throwing a veritable wall of lead toward their unsuspecting target.

In this modern age of fourth-generation fighter jets, aerial gunnery can be a difficult task even under the best of conditions. Factor in super-sonic speeds and high deflections, and hitting ones mark becomes more a condition of pure luck than anything else. Such was the case for Ron this day, as his burst narrowly missed the targeted Rafale, zipping harmlessly in front of his intended victim.

But thats not to say that the move had been any less effective, however. Clearly rattled by the sudden appearance of white-hot projectiles streaking past his canopy, the Rafales pilot quickly broke off his attack and pulled up, breaking hard right as he went. The sudden turn, combined with the speed from Rons dive, forced Sky Rat into an overshoot, and the teenaged pair looked up in unison to see the belly of the French fighter streak past their own canopy before receding in the distance behind them.

Rather than try and mimic the Rafales turn, Ron chose to continue his dive, accelerating even further past the sound barrier. Any attempt to turn now, he figured, would only cost him speed and allow the slower Rafale to play catch-up. If he could just keep his nose down for a few more seconds, he would open the range to a point where his adversary would be far too far away to do anything. Then, he could turn back into the fight and re-engage on his own terms.

It was Kims angelic voice that once again redirected his attentions to more urgent matters.

Two inbound! Twelve oclock level and closing fast!

Of course angels normally didnt have such a propensity toward yelling.

Taking stock of the situation, Ron once again confirmed that his wingman was in position, flying slightly behind and about a quarter-mile to his right: A classic combat-spread formation.

Whats the enemy formation look like, Red Fox? he inquired, using Kims assigned code name.

A straight daisy chain, Mad Dog. Kim snappily replied. Its one right behind the other.

Okay then, heres how were gonna play this. Ron quickly decided. Were gonna take these gnat-brains right between us, then run a cross-turn straight into them. You ready to rock n roll, Splinter?

Born ready, sir! His wingman nearly shouted in response.

Glad to hear it.

Moments later, a dark streak tore through the space between the two Tomcats. Ordinarily, a pilot in Rons position would have broke hard into the intruder and initiated an attack. But in this case, however, Ron knew better. Thanks to Kims keen eye and proficiency with the Tomcats sophisticated radar systems, he knew that the target presented by this Rafale was a trap. Turning onto its tail would only serve to expose his own tail to the second jet, which was by now rocketing past him at incredible speed.

Break now! Ron shouted as the booming roar of the Rafale thundered past them.

Pitching up in perfect unison, the two Tomcats climbed briefly before turning toward each other and executing a coordinated pair of U-turns, with Ron passing slightly above his wingman. Concluding the maneuver with a shallow dive to regain their lost airspeed, they were both soon hot on the tails of the two bandits.

Realizing their predicament, the Rafales now split up, with one breaking hard left while the other pulled up sharply and climbed vertically away. It was time to make a decision.

You take the one on the right! Ron called to his wingman. Ill take straight-up Susie here!

Firewalling the throttle, Ron buried the control stick deep into his gut. Over 60,000 pounds of thrust responded, sending the duo surging toward the stratosphere. They both struggled for breath as the force of seven Gs pressed them back into their seats with crushing intensity. Then, the world flipped upside-down as the Rafale rolled inverted and dove for the deck with Ron following suit.

Pulling out of the dive, the Rafale immediately went into a hard left-hand turn. Being smaller and more nimble than the Tomcat, the delta-winged craft was soon slipping to the inside, gaining the advantage of position.

To counter this, Ron quickly transitioned into a maneuver known as a high yo-yo. A tactic perfected by aviators of the early jet age, the yo-yo allowed a pilot to cut a tighter turn by breaking to the inside and diving slightly, then pulling up, essentially tilting the arc of the turn onto its edge. In this way he was able to hold tight with the Rafale, to spite its superior agility.

Then, in a split second, the situation changed. As Ron plunged Sky Rat into yet another yo-yo, the Rafale pulled straight up. Ron tried desperately to follow, but with the speed of the dive pushing him forward, simple physics dictated that he would slide past his adversary, and into the position of prey.

In an instant, the Rafale was on his six, well within missile range and perfectly positioned for a shot. Words were echoing in his ear almost before Kim had even shouted them.

Incoming! was her one-word warning.

Pickle flares! And the chaff! Ron responded, initiating evasive maneuvers.

Already on it! Kim informed. Her hands deftly raced across the controls, activating Sky Rats various defensive countermeasures. In an instant, her mind flashed back to the briefing they had received that morning, and the words of Commander Argus

At this time, we believe the enemy to be in possession of AA-11 Archer heat seeking missiles, although we believe these to be the older R-73 variant with the associated reduced range. Also, we do not believe that these weapons possess the helmet-mounted targeting capability or advanced counter-countermeasures of the frontline AA-11 models.

The last line about counter-countermeasures rang in her ears, and she silently prayed that the G.J. intelligence services were correct in their assessment. If they werent, then she and Ron were both as good as char-broiled.

As the distinctive popping sound of the flares resonated behind them, Ron rolled and broke hard right, once again plastering the two of them to their seats. He held the turn for several excruciating seconds before finally relenting as the shriek of the missile could be heard screaming past them.

Nice save Ron, but hes still back there! Kim shouted, pivoting in her harness to look behind them, the intense maneuvering of the plane repeatedly slamming her against the sides of the cockpit. Hes right between our tails!

Okay, then Hang onto your lunch! Ron replied. This ride is about to become E-ticket rated!

Gunning the throttle to the max, Ron pulled up sharp and climbed steeply away from his pursuer. Then, in a single, swift motion, he dropped his left hand from the throttle down to the black-and-yellow striped air brake handle and pulled hard. Butterfly flaps between Sky Rats twin tails suddenly snapped open, causing a burst of deceleration that threw both teens forcefully forward into their harnesses.

Seconds seemed to tick by like hours as Sky Rat continued to slow, plunging its precious air speed dangerously close to a stall. A telltale shudder could be felt through the airframe as their speed dropped even further, but it was quickly followed by another sensation: A rumbling sensation of incredible power.

As their speed plummeted to nearly zero, Ron increased throttle and held tight, maintaining control and effectively suspending the massive interceptor in mid-air.

Kim didnt need to be told what this was. It was the same maneuver Ron had pulled with the unidentified craft in Europe while the pair had been on their way to confront Drakken in his underground salt lair. Pugachevs Cobra, as the maneuver was known, had already served them well once before, and now as the roar of the Rafales twin engines could be heard passing beneath them, she knew that it had served them well once again.

Hanging there, suspended between heaven and earth, Ron paused a moment for their enemy to completely pass, then flipped his nose downward. Ordinarily, such a maneuver by an F-14 would be quite impossible, but with the thrust-vectoring system installed by the Eagles during Sky Rats most recent overhaul, it was something easily executed. Soon the two teens were screaming into a headlong plunge, the form of their capable adversary squarely framed in the center of the windscreen.

Now, with his latest effort thwarted, it was the Rafales move once again. The enemy pilot didnt disappoint in this regard, quickly throwing his plane into a screaming dive that sent both aircraft hurling toward the earth far below.

As the deep-blue tones of the ocean rapidly rushed up to meet them, both aircraft pulled out of their respective dives, transitioning into level flight at a point less than 1,000 feet above the waves. The Rafale then dipped its nose again, enticing Ron to follow, before pulling up to force yet another overshoot.

Ron quickly elevated his own nose, using the same trick to stay behind his enemy. The Rafales response was to dive once again, attempting the same trick, this time apparently hoping for improved results.

And so it went, the two fighters quickly falling into a high-speed diving and climbing pattern, pitching up to reduce speed and force and overshoot, then plunging downward to regain lost speed and hopefully fall onto their opponents tail. It was a maneuver known as the rolling scissors, and it had held a place of prominence in every flight-training manual since World War One.

Would you stop waving goodbye, already? Im getting seasick back here! Kim panned from the rear seat as the intense maneuvering dragged on. Dogfights, as she understood them, tended to be brief and intense. And while the current exchange would definitely qualify as intense, brief was an adjective that was becoming less and less befitting of the situation.

Well dont tell me! Tell HIM! Ron shouted back, pointing to indicate the current object of his attentions. Hes the one with the repressed childhood see-saw issues!

As the two planes continued their deadly dance, one of the regions many small islands began to loom large on the horizon. With emerald green slopes and rugged, wave-battered cliffs rising prominently from the churning ocean surf, it steadily grew, changing from a hazy, indistinct mass in the distance to a monolithic edifice that filled their respective windscreens.

Making a break to the left, the Rafale dove hard and accelerated toward the islands towering vestige, enticing Ron to follow suit. Soon, both aircraft were through the sound barrier once again, tearing two rooster tails through the sea as they screamed along at near wave-top level.

Then they were upon it, roaring over pristine beaches and into the islands interior, both planes darting back and forth, roaring through deep canyons and cresting over mountain ridges with only feet to spare. They dodged and weaved, flowing down rugged, jungle ravines like a shimmering metallic river, screaming up nearly vertical mountainsides, then rolling inverted before plunging into the tree-studded valleys once again. It was an elaborate game of cat and mouse, played out at supersonic speed across a battlefield of deep greens and even deeper blues.

Ron and Kim both grunted and strained against the force of eight Gs as Ron pulled an especially hard turn, placing himself onto the Rafales six. The Rafaels pilot didnt hesitate to respond, executing a maneuver that left both teens stunned to the point of speechlessness: He snap-rolled.

Ordinarily, a snap roll is a perfectly acceptable evasive maneuver. Allowing a pilot to both dodge an attack and quickly reduce speed simultaneously, it brings with it the ability to kill the proverbial two birds with one stone.

But when executed at low altitude, however, such a maneuver constituted legal insanity. With no room to recover from the violent rotation and sudden drop in altitude, any pilot foolish enough to attempt such a feat in this situation would qualify as either crazy, suicidal, or both.

But snap roll was exactly what this pilot now did, and the unexpected move shocked Ron so badly that before he could so much as think about it, he had reflexively followed suit, imitating the exact same maneuver with all of the reckless disregard that accompanied it.

What the heck was that? Kim managed to shout, once her own shock at Rons actions had worn off.

Sorry! Knee-jerk reaction! he replied. Still focusing all of his attention on his quarry. While the Rafales maneuver had failed to give him the slip, it had managed to force Ron in much closer to his target than he was ordinarily comfortable with. By this point, Sky Rat was only ten yards behind the Rafale, so close in fact that the Tomcats entire airframe was now being buffeted by jet wash from the Rafales two high-performance engines.

They were close at this point: Close enough to make out individual details on their adversarys aircraft. The graceful, triangle-shape of the delta wings with their 53-degree sweep pointing perfectly forward to the curved nose flanked by canard-style elevators The elegantly swept vertical stabilizer The awkwardly angled refueling tube The missiles that it carried on its wing tips The way the entire assembly was painted in an eye-popping scheme of coal mine black with purple trim that vaguely resembled the power suit favored by their corporate owner and master. It was actually a rather beautiful machine. It was a shame that it had to be destroyed.

Making a quick juke to the left to escape the turbulent jet wash, Ron was shocked once more as the Rafale executed another snap roll, tempting fate and the Gods yet again.

But this time, Ron was ready

Ignoring the instinct to play follow-the-leader with this thrill-seeking nut case, he instead pulled up ever so slightly, juked back to the right, and settled his nose back down. By the time that the flight-level indicator returned to zero-pitch moments later, the Rafale was pegged squarely in the dead center of his gun sight, the piper directly over the middle of its fuselage.

Game over, punk. Ron muttered to himself as his finger tensed around the trigger.

Once again, Sky Rat resounded with the vibrations of dual GAU-22s unleashing their full fury upon their hapless victim. Caught squarely by the onslaught, the Rafale instantaneously burst into flames, flipped over, and disappeared into the dense jungle landscape below. A half-second later the jungle came alive as a brilliant fireball erupted from the forest canopy, billowing upward with massive columns of black smoke and orange flame, and rolling forward in a torrent of fire and flaming debris.

Booyah! Splash two for the good guys! Ron jubilantly shouted as he wheeled Sky Rat around and began climbing back toward his assigned patrol altitude. Saber One reports two down and requests mission status report.

Copy that, Saber One. The reply crackled over the open com-link. Attack units report all targets neutralized. Remaining enemy aircraft retreating toward the west. Ghost Eye reports clear skies all along extraction path. You are confirmed R.T.B.

Roger that. Ron replied in turn. We are clear of bandits and returning to base. Will update if situation changes.

Roger, Saber One. Over and out.

Saber One out.

Once the communication link was closed, Ron pivoted awkwardly in his harness, shooting a glance back toward the auburn-haired beauty seated behind him.

You okay back there, Red Fox? he inquired, more than a tint of loving concern evident in his voice.

Never better, Mad Dog. Kim replied, pulling down her oxygen mask to beam a radiant smile in his direction.

So tell me Was your first real combat mission all that you thought it would be?

Well it was certainly up there in the wild-ride department, she answered, but overall Im still sitting pretty.

Arent you always?

Please Ron, Kim sighed before leaning forward with a sultry grin spreading quickly across her face

Flattery will get you everywhere.

Wha (Cough) Whoa there, KP! Uh Safety first, now. (Cough) Ron stammered in response.

Why? What do you mean? Kim asked, perplexed.

Visibility, Kimbo. Youre steaming up my visor.

Oh right, sorry. Kim smiled as she settled back into her seat, satisfied that her goal had been accomplished.

It was then that the roar of another aircraft drew the two teens attention to their right, as Rons wingman retook his position along Sky Rats side.

Hey! Good kill down there on the deck, Mad Dog! Splinter chimed in. Nice to see youre not afraid to grapple in the dirt.

Meh Just doin that voodoo that I do. Ron dismissed with a shrug. The show of humility seemed genuine enough, but Kim could tell that on the inside, Ron was positively beaming.

Say, how fast were you going when you took the shot? Splinter inquired.

Dunno, really. Ron replied with a shrug. About Mach one point one five, I suppose. Why?

Dude! Thats a supersonic gun kill!

Yeah So?

Jeez, Mad Dog! Youre only the second person to ever do that!

Really?

Really!

Wow!

This is what Im saying.

And with that thought running through their minds, the team pointed their planes toward the blip on their GPS maps labeled as Point Recall, and settled in for the long flight home.

The remainder of their mission had been the definition of routine. They had rendezvoused with a tanker and taken fuel, returned to the carrier and caught a wire, gone through the customary debriefing and shared a satisfying dinner in the main galley. Then, after some much needed decompression, it was time for a few hours sleep before they took to the air once more, this time heading for the mountainous regions of northern Japan.

But to spite the exertions of the days activities, Kim found sleep to be elusive this night. She lay awake, tucked snugly against Rons side, the rhythmic cadence of his breathing echoing softly and reassuringly in her ears. Ordinarily, such circumstances would have almost instantly lulled her into sleeps warm embrace, any and all worries being erased from her mind by Rons ever-vigilant presence. But this sitch was different, however: There was something troubling her psyche that Rons mere presence was insufficient to address. Only talking with him could do that.

Ronnie Sweetie? she whispered into the darkness of the small cabin.

Hmm-mmmm. Ron mumbled in response.

Just to make sure How many did we get today?

Two, unless my math is off. Rons half-awake form softly responded.

To be truthful, Kim had already known the answer to that question, just as she did to the question she was about to ask. But still, something deep inside of her needed to confirm the reality of the situation.

And how many chutes did you count?

Although the darkness of the room made it nearly impossible to see, Ron chanced a thoughtful glance down at the lithe form that lay nestled beside him. He already knew where this conversation was going, and in all honesty he had been expecting it for some time.

One. He answered softly, resignedly dropping his head back onto his pillow and maneuvering his arm to pull his girlfriend a little closer: A gesture that Kim gratefully accepted.

So we?

Yeah.

For the longest moment, silence reigned throughout the room, the only perceptible sounds being those of the ships ventilation system, and of Rufus, softly snoring from his makeshift nest on the writing desk in the corner. There was profound meaning in the few words that had just been spoken, and Kim found herself taking moment to compose her thoughts before continuing.

So so what do we do now? she asked with a light sniffle.

How do you mean?

I mean how are we supposed to deal with this?

Well its not easy at first. Ron morosely admitted. Itll be a real shock to your system for a while, but eventually youll learn to make your peace with it. Just trust me when I say that itll get easier over time.

Youre sure about that?

Absolutely.

Serious?

Dead serious.

With these words, Kim silently settled her head back down onto her boyfriends chest and heaved a heavy sigh. Ron certainly seemed sure of what he was saying, and that shed eventually find a way of dealing with this new knowledge that she was now forced to carry. She supposed he was right, after all: That time really did heal all wounds. However that left one entirely new question to be answered.

Ron?

Yeah.

How is it that you know so much about this sitch?

At this question, Ron glanced downward once again. He quickly found that even in the nearly lightless confines of the stateroom, he could clearly see the two green orbs that were now boring into him, searching for an answer whose nature they could not fathom.

Ahhhhh Ron stammered.

Ron! Kim growled, a little more forcefully than she would have liked.

Alright! Alright! Heres the scoop! Ron relented. You remember the Philippines Incident, dont you?

How could I ever forget? Kim wistfully replied. That day, after all, had been one of the most adventurous days in a young life filled with adventure.

On that day that glorious day Ron had literally flown back into her life. After three anguish-filled months of desperately missing him and fearing the worst for his safety, and with her entire family facing eminent destruction at the hands of Drakkens make-shift air force, he had come charging down from the heavens like a guardian angel, launching himself headlong into the fray like a mythical knight in shining armor. He had shown skill and bravery that went beyond all ability of words to describe them, and had succeeded in either driving off or destroying all those who dared threaten either Kim or her loved ones.

And then, for the coup de gras, he had bested none other than Shego herself in a one-on-one dogfight to the finish. He had proven himself to be the complete package that day, elevating his game and himself to levels that no one, not even Kim, had ever dreamed him capable of.

And now the events of that day had suddenly taken on a more ominous tone.

So what about it? Kim hesitantly inquired, battling back against the sinking suspicion that she wasnt going to like the answer.

You know how many I got, right? Ron asked, his tone suddenly turning much more subdued.

Well, there were twelve starting out. Kim thought aloud. Half of them bounced, so that leaves six in the drink. When you add in Shego, that makes it a lucky seven.

Exactly. Ron informed her. And how many chutes did you see?

Honestly, I was too busy keeping my lunch from making an encore appearance to be counting parachutes. Kim sarcastically replied. I know Shego punched out successfully, but I guess I just didnt think much about the others.

A sudden realization now swept over her, and a small bulb in the back of her mind flared to life as she recognized where Ron was going with all of this.

How How many were there? she shakily asked, already dreading whatever the answer would be.

Besides Shego? Ron clarified.

Yeah.

Three.

So the other three were?

Yeah.

Kim instinctively shuddered and pulled herself closer into the warmth of Rons body. The Philippines Incident had always been such a joyous event in her mind, but now it seemed forever tainted: Tainted with the blood of those men who had perished in the clear, thin air of the South Pacific skies.

So youve actually taken a I mean Youve Somehow, she just couldnt bring herself to say the word, as if by not speaking of it specifically, then it somehow would never be real. It was a rare sitch where her vocabulary failed her in such a way, and she suddenly found herself fumbling for something anything to say.

How did this happen? Kim asked, her voice somewhere between a squeak and a whisper. It was probably the stupidest question imaginable, she would later admit, but at the moment it was the only coherent thought that she could form.

Well those werent spitballs that we were shooting at each other up there. Ron dryly observed. He took a deep breath and sighed deeply, allowing Kims head to rise and fall with his chest. This was perhaps the most difficult question she could pose right now, so much so that it bordered on rhetorical. However, even a dim bulb such as him self could sense the anguish in his girlfriends words, and he owed it to her to at least attempt a meaningful answer.

I dont claim to have all the answers, Kim. He started out by saying. All I know is what they taught me in leadership training. He paused thoughtfully before continuing.

One of the things they taught us is that to spite what the proverb may say, there are in fact certain rules when it comes to war. Rule number one is that when youre in a war, young men die.

And rule number two? Kim hesitantly asked, her voice trembling slightly.

That theres nothing anyone can do to change rule number one. Ron replied with yet another sigh.

So you think of this this thing we do as a war? Kim inquired, trying to grasp some insight into Rons thought process regarding this aspect of his activities.

I thought that much would be obvious, K.P. Ron replied matter-of-factly. Ordinarily we just drop into the bad guys lair, bust up the plot and hold the dudes until the local authorities show up. Were basically arresting people: Like a police action of some sort.

But this, Ron continued, this is different. The Eagles were created to deal with criminals that operate beyond the scope of regular law enforcement. These are the sorts of people whom you dont just drop in and slap the cuffs on. Theyre much bigger than that: We have to take them down hard, and we have to make it hurt.

And youre okay with all of this? Kim asked, an incredulous tone running strong within her voice.

Hey! I never said that I was okay with any of it. Ron replied defensively. Im just saying that Ive accepted the reality of the sitch, and that Ive come to some sort of mental understanding. It doesnt do anyone any good if I go off getting all bent out of shape about things I cant change, now does it?

No, I guess it doesnt. Kim replied, a hint of melancholy still evident. It all just seems so ferociously whacked, you know?

Yeah, I know K.P. I know. Ron sighed, reaching up with his free hand to massage the bridge of his nose. But I think some of it goes back to what you said to me in the tree house that night before the prom.

What? That well always be tight? Kim inquired, clearly perplexed by this sudden turn in the conversation.

No. The other thing. Ron clarified.

What other thing?

The thing about it being time to grow up?

Oh, that other thing. Whats that got to do with us in the here and now?

It illustrates my point, K.P. Ron explained. Up until recently, our whole save-the-world thing has been a pretty black-and-white type of operation. We know who the bad guys are, we know where they are, we go in and we get them. The good guys win, justice is served, and nobody gets hurt.

Yeah. So?

So Im saying that things are different now. Ron continued to explain. Like it or not, were both becoming adults, and in the adult world things are a lot less clear-cut, both in terms of crime-fighting and, well, everything for that matter.

So youre saying that were not in Kansas anymore.

Im saying that in this game, good and evil arent as clearly defined. Bad guys can have redeeming qualities, good guys can carry a dark streak buried deep within them, and people sometimes die, on both sides of the equation, both good and bad.

Ron heaved an exasperated sigh as he finished his last sentence. This was something that he obviously felt very strongly about, and had undoubtedly spent a great many hours thinking about.

Wow, Ron. Kim observed. How did you ever get so deep about these things?

Lots of sleepless nights, staring at the ceiling and sorting stuff out. Ron admitted, his voice clearly etched with concern for the topic.

It really keeps you awake at night? Kim asked concernedly.

Sometimes it does, yeah. He replied, his voice suddenly growing weary. But what about you? Are you gonna be okay with all of this?

Yeah, Ill be all right. Kim responded after a long, thoughtful pause. I think Im kind of like you, though. Ill probably learn to accept it, eventually, but I dont think Ill ever be okay with it.

Thats my girl. Ron replied with a smile, leaning down to gently kiss the top of Kims head. Id never expect anything less from you. Now what say we grab about forty winks?

Works for me. Kim answered, snuggling herself once again into Rons warm embrace.

Oh, and Ron?

Yeah.

Thanks.

And with that, the veil of blissful slumber finally descended over both of them.

Authors Notes:

Forty-two pages! Like, WOW, man! Sometimes, when I get on a roll with these chapters, I just have a hard time knowing when to quit. Somebody, stop me! Stop me before I write again!

A special note regarding the previous chapter: I have personally reviewed all of the comments that were sent regarding Chapter Six, and I would now like to say one thing

I take back everything I said: Neil Diamond is GOD! Now PLEASE, just put down the torches and pitchforks, and calmly back away!

I apparently had not realized what a loyal fan base Mr. Diamond enjoys, as my stated comments stirred up an entire hornets nest worth of wrath. Over the past month, I have had the distinct pleasure of receiving approximately 273 personal messages, all of which have been consolidated and summarized into the following paragraph

You stupid imbecile! Blah, blah, blah If you had one tenth of Neils talent Blah, blah Greatest musician in the history of ever Blah, blech blah, blah Listened to Cracklin Rosie twenty-seven times, and the next day the cyst was GONE, and the doctor said he had never seen such a rapid recovery Blah, blah, blahbity-blah

You get the general idea.

So anyway, on to the current chapter!

Pri-Fly: The Primary Flight Control Center is the air-traffic control tower of an aircraft carrier. Usually positioned high above the flight deck on the rear end of the superstructure, this is the workstation of the carriers Air Boss and his staff. Together, these men are responsible for regulating and directing the movement of all aircraft, on, above and below the flight deck.

SAM: Surface-to-Air Missile. As the name suggests, this is a family of ground-based weapons that are intended to be fired against airborne targets, either fixed-wing or helicopter.

F-4/G Phantom: The most modern variant of the venerable Phantom, the F-4/G was developed specifically to fulfill the Wild Weasel roll for the United States Air Force, and proved once again that the Phantom is one of the most adaptable and well-designed airframes ever built. Now while purists will undoubtedly point out that the F-4/G is an Air Force plane, and not equipped for carrier operations, Ive chosen to assume for the purposes of this story that the Eagles were able to adapt modifications that made these birds carrier-operable. After all, the original F-4 was a navy airframe How hard could it really be?

AGM-88: Known as the High-speed Anti-Radiation Missile, (HARM), the AGM-88 has found widespread deployment on a variety of military platforms. Designed as a counter-weapon for integrated air-defense networks, the HARM has the ability to lock onto virtually any source of radar energy. By essentially flying itself down the radar beam, the HARM can destroy air defense installations with pinpoint accuracy, essentially blinding the enemy and greatly reducing his ability to shoot back.

Grumman A-6 Intruder: First introduced in 1963 as a replacement for the propeller-driven A-1 Skyraider, the Intruder is twin-engine, mid-wing, medium attack bomber built by Grumman Aerospace. (Builders of the F-14 Tomcat.) Officially retired in 1997, many Intruders still remain in inactive reserve status, should the U.S. Navy experience the need for increased firepower.

Vought A-7 Corsair II: Named for the legendary naval fighter of the Second World War, the A-7 is a single-engine, high-wing tactical strike aircraft employed by the U.S. Navy between 1967 and 1991. Built as a replacement for the aging A-4 Skyhawk, its design was primarily based on the highly successful F-8 Crusader: A move that helped to keep development costs on the project down.

McDonnell Douglas F-18 Hornet: Introduced on January 7, 1983, the Hornet is an all-weather, multi-role strike fighter still in use by the United States Navy and Marine Corps. Originally designed as part of a competition sponsored by the United States Air Force, the Hornet, (then known as the YF-17 Cobra), was nearly relegated to the scrap heap of aviation history when the USAF awarded its contract to Lockheed-Martin, and its design of the F-16 Fighting Falcon. The Navy, however, had been closely following the competition between the two designs, and having been duly impressed by the performance of the YF-17 prototype, placed an order for several airframes. The rest, as they say, is history.

Grumman E-2 Hawkeye: A carrier-based airborne early-warning system, the Hawkeye is easily distinguishable by the large, dish-shaped radar array that it carries atop its fuselage. Known to many as the Hummer because of the distinctive sound of its twin turboprop engines, the Hawkeye is forecast to remain in service with the United States Navy well into the foreseeable future.

Lockheed S-3 Viking: Known as the Hoover because its twin turbojet engines are said to sound like a vacuum cleaner, the Viking was originally developed as an anti-submarine aircraft known as the ES-3A Shadow. Designed to replace the propeller-driven Grumman S-2 Tracker, the U.S. Navy soon realized the need for a carrier-capable in-flight refueling tanker within their inventory, and the ES-3A seemed to fit most of the performance criteria. Several airframes were modified for testing, and when the results proved positive, the Viking was born.

Still in service today, the S-3 is forecast to be replaced sometime in 2009 by an in-flight refueling variant of the F-18 Hornet.

Squadron Designations: It may seem like a bowl of alphabet soup, but theres actually a method to the madness of this designation system. For the purposes of this story, Ive chosen to use the same system adopted by the United States Navy, owing primarily to the fact its pre-established, and actually quite simple once you understand it.

First off, all navy squadrons carry a designation starting with the letter V. (Im not aware of any reason behind the choice of this letter, but I suppose its as good as any of them. They had 26 to choose from and they picked one!) Squadrons of the Marine Corps, (technically, a department of the navy), are designated by the prefix VM.

Now, following the designator for the military branch, there will be either one or two letters indicating the specific function of the squadron in question. Fighter squadrons, as one would expect, carry the designation of F in this spot. Similarly, bombing squadrons carry the suffix B and attack squadrons are labeled as A, although either of these can be further specified as heavy or light squadrons, giving us designations such as VBH, VBL, VAH, and VAL.

To finish it all off, the alphabetic indicators are followed by a number distinguishing the particular squadron from all others of the same designation. Your average carrier will carry two fighter squadrons, one bombing squadron, one attack squadron, an electronic warfare squadron and an in-flight refueling squadron.

Other designations can include tactical electronic warfare, (VAQ), airborne early warning, (VAW), photographic reconnaissance, (VAP), weather reconnaissance, (VPM), and in-flight refueling, (VS).

In addition to these official designations, squadrons also carry names, These are chosen by the squadron members, and often reflect the collective self-image of the group. One of the most notable examples of such colorful imagery is the case of VMF-214, a World War Two squadron of Marine fighter pilots better known as the “Black Sheep Squadron.”

In choosing some of the names for this chapter, I looked to the Second World War for inspiration. The name “Blue-Nosed Bastards,” which I assigned to squadron VF-5, was originally the name of the 352nd Fighter Group based in Bodney, England. Known for their blue-nosed P-51 Mustangs and aggressive tactics, the moniker was first coined by pilots of the German Luftwaffe who had the misfortune of facing them in combat. Upon learning of this, the American pilots quickly adopted it as their official identity, and the rest is history.

And Ron’s own squadron, VF-4, also carries a name with historical roots as well. The squadron name “Red Tails” was first carried aloft by pilots of the 332nd Fighter Group. One of the most highly decorated combat units of the war, this group of brave men is better known to history as the “Tuskeegee Airmen.”

Flight Names: When entering combat, its not uncommon for a fighting force to be broken up into smaller units known as flights. In order to make delegation of responsibility and direction of friendly forces easier, flights are almost always given code names, and these names usually follow a common theme.

In this chapter, the flights mentioned were named after bladed weapons. The rapier, saber and cutlass are all swords of European ancestry, while the bolo is a type of curved fighting knife most commonly found in the Philippines.

GBU-32: This is a 1,000-pound, satellite-guided bomb deployed by the United States Navy and occasionally referred to as a Joint Direct-Attack Munition. (JDAM) Using pre-programmed G.P.S. coordinates, the weapon is able to hone in on a target from long range, usually striking within a 30-foot diameter circle.

CBU-72: A type of incendiary cluster bomb, the CBU-72 is essentially a cylindrical casing containing three sub-munitions with a weight of 100 pounds each. When deployed, the outer casing will burst open at a pre-determined altitude, scattering the sub-munitions over a wide area. At an altitude of 30 feet, these sub-munitions then burst open releasing 225 pounds of ethylene oxide to create a cloud of highly combustible vapor.

Milliseconds later, an embedded detonator activates, igniting the cloud and releasing a shockwave of sufficient strength to flatten any structure or vehicle within 100 yards of the epicenter. At greater ranges, the shockwave is sufficient to create substantial damage to even heavy structures.

RIO: Radar Interception Officer. This is the second crewman in an F-14 Tomcat, sitting directly behind the pilot. It is his or her responsibility to operate the sophisticated radar and sensor systems, and to function as a second set of eyes for maintaining situational awareness while in combat.

AESA: The Active Electronically-Scanned Array, (AESA), radar system represents the next generation of airborne radar detection. By redirecting the angle of the radar beam itself, rather than physically manipulating the entire radar emitter head, a faster and more accurate picture of the battlefield can be obtained. The result of such improvements is the ability to track and target more aircraft at greater ranges than had been previously possible.

Dassault Rafale: First flown on July 4, 1986, the Rafale is the latest installment in a long line of highly agile, delta-winged interceptors to be produced by Dassault Aviation. Essentially a highly evolved version of Dassaults revolutionary Mirage-series aircraft, the Rafale is available in both land-based and carrier-based variants, and features such innovations as passive, electronically scanned multi-role radar, and a reduced radar cross-section resulting in limited stealth capability. Rafales currently serve with both the French Navy and Air Force.

Although no Rafales have yet been built for export, several nations have expressed interest, including India, which is interested in purchasing up to 126 individual aircraft.

Eurofighter Typhoon: A twin-engine, canard-delta wing strike fighter currently deployed by the German Luftwaffe, British Royal Air Force, Italian Aeronautica Militare, and the Spanish Ejrcito del Aire. Developed jointly by several European nations during the 1970s, the Typhoon is one of the most widely fielded air superiority fighters in the European theater of operations. Bearing delta wings and canard-style elevators near its nose, it bears a strong resemblance to both the French Rafale, and the Swedish-built Saab 37 Viggen and Saab 39 Gripen.

AA-11 Archer: A highly-evolved variant of the AA-2 Atoll missile, the Archer came as a major shock to western military experts when the collapse of Soviet communism allowed them their first close look at the weapon. Impressed by its superior speed, agility and kill ratio, knowledge of this weapon soon prompted concerted efforts by several western powers to develop effective weapons to match the Soviet capabilities.

AIM-9X Sidewinder: As stated, this is a highly advanced variant of the classic AIM-9 weapon first deployed during the conflict in Vietnam. Features of this weapon include, improver range, speed and maneuverability, all-aspect targeting, and advanced counter-countermeasures the greatly improve the hit-miss ratio of the weapon.

Development of the AIM-9X can be traced to the early 1990s and the collapse of the former Soviet Union. Following the fall of the Iron Curtain, western aerospace engineers received their first good looks at the Soviet-built AA-11 Archer missile, and were shocked by its highly advanced features and capabilities. Soon, a joint program between the United States and her European allies was started to develop an effective counterpart weapon to trump the Soviet advantage. The Advanced Short-Range Air-to-Air Missile program, (ASRAAM), soon degenerated into partisan bickering between the various nations, however, and the United States opted to withdraw from the program, choosing instead to develop their own weapon, parallel to and independently of the European effort.

After extensive research and testing, it was determined that the venerable AIM-9 could be updated to meet the project requirements, and that development of an entirely new weapon was not necessary. The AIM-9X first entered operational deployment with the United States Air Force in November of 2003.

GAU-22: A four-barreled, 25-millimeter Gatling gun developed for deployment aboard the Lockheed F-22 Raptor, the GAU-22 is a derivative of the five-barreled GAU-12 that is currently deployed by the United States Marine Corps AV-8B Harrier II. Smaller, lighter and more accurate than the GAU-12, and sporting a larger caliber than the 20-millimeter M-61 Vulcan cannon, the GAU-22 represents a major leap forward in the field of aerial gunnery.

Thatch Weave: One of the more colorful maneuvers in the field of aerial combat, the so-called Thatch Weave can find its roots in an article published in the September 22, 1941 issue of the Fleet Air Tactical Unit Intelligence Bulletin. This was one of the first articles to contain substantial information on a revolutionary new fighter then being fielded by the Japanese military: The Mitsubishi A6M2 Type 00 The aircraft that would later become legendary as the Zero.

The following month, a copy of this bulletin found its way into the hands of Lieutenant Commander John S. Thatch of the United States Navy, who at the time was living in Coronado, California while his squadron was stationed at the nearby San Diego Naval Air Station being re-equipped with newer Grumman F4F-3 Wildcat fighters. Thatch fancied himself an armchair tactician of sorts, and held a fondness for diagramming new tactics on his kitchen table, using matchsticks to represent the various aircraft involved.

Although the United States was not yet involved in the Second World War at this point, rampant aggression by both the Japanese and Germany led many to believe that it was only a matter of time until this changed. Recognizing that American pilots would soon be facing the Zero in combat, and alarmed by the Zeros apparently superior agility, Thatch brought the matchsticks out in earnest, trying desperately to come up with a tactical maneuver that would negate this advantage. By early November, he had his plan.

The task of first testing the revolutionary maneuver fell to one of Thatchs squadron mates, Ensign Edward Butch OHare. During mock attack runs with OHare playing the role of attacker, Butch quickly found that executing a clean attack against the new tactic was nearly impossible. He later claimed that he couldnt even get close to his target without having some other plane pointing its nose at him.

The first combat test came on June 2, 1942 during the battle of Midway, and in this real-life trial-by-fire, the weave held up. As a squadron of Zeros jumped a flight of four F4F-3s, Ensign R. A. M. Dibb was attacked by a lone Japanese pilot and responded by turning toward his wingman, Commander Thatch. Thatch in turn executed his plan to perfection, dropping in on the Zeros tail and firing until its engine ignited.

Throughout the course of the war, the Thatch Weave continued to frustrate Japanese aviators across the breadth of the Pacific. Top-scoring Japanese ace of the war, Saburo Sakai, would later recount an incident involving one of his squadron mates during the battle for Guadalcanal

For the first time today, Lt. Commander Tadashi Nakajima encountered what was to become a famous double-team maneuver on the part of the enemy. Two Wildcats jumped on the commanders plane. He had no trouble in getting on the tail of an enemy fighter, but never had a chance to fire before the Grummans teammate roared at him from the side. Nakajima was raging when he got back to Rabaul; he had been forced to dive and run for safety.”

Even to this day, the Thatch Weave is considered to be a legitimate combat tactic.

Pugachevs Cobra: A tactic first used by pilots of the Soviet-built MiG-29 Fulcrum, the Cobra can only be performed by the most high-powered and agile of aircraft. In executing this maneuver, a pilot pitches his nose up into a vertical position, then reduces throttle until engine thrust cancels out, but does not overcome, gravity. The result is a sort of vertical hover that presents a difficult target for modern weapons systems, which are designed for high-speed engagements.

Credit for inventing this maneuver is most often given to Viktor Pugachev, a test pilot with the Sukhoi Design Bureau, who first demonstrated the maneuver in a public setting at the Paris Le Bourget air show in 1989. However, it is now known that Soviet test pilots had been performing the move in secret for some time prior.

Super-Sonic Gun Kill: This is really something for Ron to be proud of. As it currently stands, there is only one known air-to-air victory to occur above Mach one where a gun was used to bring down the winning pilot’s opponent. It occurred over North Vietnam on June 2, 1972, when an F-4/E Phantom flown by Major Phil Handley fired its M-61 Vulcan Cannon and brought down a MiG-19 Farmer. At the time of the kill, Major Handley was flying at an altitude of approximately 500 feet, and traveling at approximately Mach 1.2: The highest velocity ever recorded for a gun kill.

Well this chapter has certainly been a long and turbulent ride. I hope all of you packed your Dramamine and had your seat backs forward, (whatever the heck that means).

As a final note, Id like to once again personally thank Rei Ronin for running the beta check on this chapter. As the site guru for all things winged and technical, I just wouldnt feel right about posting this without his input. Mad props and a great big shout-out, dude!

And so, with the skies once again friendly, our heroes are about to embark for the next target in their search, which as many of you correctly guessed, is Japan: The land of the rising sun, and really cool techno-gadgetry. (Aint capitalism just the greatest thing?)

As always, read and review at your own risk, and Ill catch you all on the rebound with chapter eight!

Until next time

Nutzkie

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