For the Motherland
Between the fuel warning, RWR and a plethora of other warning lights and sirens, Major General Morozov’s cockpit was lighting up like a Christmas tree. The airframes were being pushed well beyond their design tolerances, and it was not responding well to the heavy strain the mission was imposing on it. The touchscreens, a brand new addition to the already maintenance-hell airframe, were flickering to the point that no information of importance could be discerned. The automated flight control system was the only thing keeping the hypersonic aircraft stable as it burnt through the atmosphere, maintaining optimal approach vector. Hundreds of rapidly approaching tracks launched from the surface appeared on the radar. Auto-countermeasures engaged in their distinctive thud thud shakes. In such a modern aircraft, there was not much that Morozov had to do other than selecting targets and issuing commands to the squadron he was leading. Then, with a jump, the munitions were released. Trusting his training, he pulled hard on the yoke and tried to bank away, yet the aircraft did not respond. Confused, Morozov attempted to disengage the autopilot, yet he was met with a system alert: Autopilot locked. Rapidly losing altitude, he flushed the systems of the aircraft, yet was blocked from the operation. On his left, a missile the size of a telephone pole exploded near his wingman. At first, it appeared that the missile did not damage the aircraft in any significant way. A few seconds later, however, the entire aircraft vanished in a blinding flash, leaving virtually nothing behind. The horizon was rapidly approaching, and every attempt to disengage the autopilot had been in naught. As his strike target came into sight, he only had the time to think of his family, before he and his aircraft vanished into the ground.
