Arctic Fire Read Online Free Page A

pressure suit inflated,
pushing the blood back to his brain, keeping him from blacking
out.
    “All missiles defeated… radar shows one bandit
splashed.” Packard reported.
    Madison didn’t acknowledge as he concentrated,
watching two of the enemy fighters streaking high above his canopy
with the third one going low, disappearing under his wing. He was
breathing heavier now, drawing in deeper breaths, keeping the
oxygen flowing to his tense body, he now sounded like Darth Vader
on steroids. He snapped his head around and saw that Packard was
swinging in behind him; Madison now switched his mindset from prey
to predator.
    Madison was below and behind the pair of enemy
fighters and watched as they continued to climb, then curiously
they began to turn to the right to reengage. Having lost speed in
the turn, he could now easily turn on their inside and track for a
missile lock. Within moments his computer “sang” to him with a
perfect lock-on tone.
    “Fox two!” Madison calmly called out. “Missile
tracking …tracking…contact hit, splash two.” Madison put his head
back on a swivel and started searching for the single aircraft.
“Where is the low bandit?”
    A moment later, Packard called out. “Got him.
Four o’clock low, he’s trying to get an angle on us sir.”
    With one eye on the remaining high fighter and
the other on the low bandit, Madison calculated that he would be in
firing position on the high bandit about the same time the low
bandit would be in position to get a shot off at Packard. He wanted
that third plane badly but no kill was worth the life of his
wingman.
    “I don’t like this set up. Break to
two-seven-zero degrees and egress west. We’ll see if they want to
reengage or call it a day.”
    “Two.” Packard replied automatically.
    Several minutes went by as they watched the two
remaining planes leave their radarscopes. After another five
minutes of making sure they didn’t double back, Packard let out a
huge sigh.
    “Man that was intense. I almost forgot this was
an exercise. I was sweating bullets back there when that aggressor
was crawling up our six.” Packard said.
    “This is your first Red Flag isn’t it?” Madison
asked.
    “Yes it is sir, I’ve been looking forward to it
for months. They told me in the briefings that it would be
realistic but I had no idea.”
    Madison smiled under his mask. “It doesn’t get
any more real than this.”
    During the Vietnam War it was discovered that if
a pilot could complete his first ten combat missions, then his
chances of surviving and finishing his tour increased dramatically.
Red Flag was designed to give pilots that edge by providing
realistic training for those first ten missions.
    “One hop down, nine more to go.” Packard said, a
slight cockiness floating in his voice.
    “Blackjack Flight, this is tower, we have an
unidentified fast mover at your two o’clock, thirty miles out on
the edge of restricted airspace. Please put eyes on the
target.”
    “Tower, Blackjack, roger your request.” Madison
replied, then thought for a moment. “Tower is this part of the
exercise?”
    “Negative Blackjack, bogie is unknown at this
time.”
    “Roger, we’re on our way.”
    “Begging the Colonel’s pardon sir,” Packard
said, “but it’s probably just a corporate jet flying some bigwigs
into Vegas for the weekend. Or who knows, it could even be a UFO up
from Area 51. Anyway sir, I’ve got the weekend off and have plans,
if you know what I mean sir? Besides, my fuel is getting a little
low, couldn’t we just abort the mission because of fuel
status?”
    Unlike his wingman; Madison didn’t have a hot
date waiting for him at the end of the flight, instead, he had a
desk full of paperwork. Even though he knew Packard was probably
right about the corporate jet, anything to delay the inevitable was
worth it, even if it meant chasing a UFO.
    “What’s the matter Lieutenant, don’t you want to
see a UFO? Turning right to a heading of