Project SX - Chapter 1

Keith gazed out over the graveyard. The hangar behind him buzzed with activity as his green eyes scanned the worn-out aircraft scattered across the desert sand. Keith sighed and placed his elbow on the white flight helmet cradled against his knee. The sun beat down on his neck, evaporating the sweat off his skin before it ever reached his flight suit. Keith started to drowse off before he was startled by a voice behind him.

“Nodus! Get over here and run your flight checks!” Keith shook his head and turned toward the command. His flight leader, Jason Eylter, stood next to his plane, glaring at the younger pilot. Keith jumped up from the egg crate he was sitting on, grabbed the plastic box, and jogged toward his plane. He tossed the egg crate away from the aircraft and examined his plane. His F-15C Eagle towered over him, more than twice his height at almost 19 feet. Keith ran his hands against the fuselage, then moved to the wing, evaluating his armament. He checked the Gatling gun rounds, at a full 940, then moved to his missiles. He was lightly armed for air-to-air combat, with two AIM-9 Sidewinders mounted under each wing and two AIM-120 AMRAAM missiles on the fuselage pylons. Keith checked to make sure his munitions were fastened securely, then moved to his engines. Two Pratt & Whitney turbofans stared down at him, threatening to burst into their signature roar at any moment. Satisfied with his checks, he followed after his flight leader and climbed into the cockpit of his Eagle. The dark gray camouflaged metal released a dull clank as his boots made contact with the fuselage. Keith ran his eyes over the top of his plane, examining the air brake and looking for any type of wound, before stepping into the cockpit and putting on his flight helmet. He closed the canopy and strapped his oxygen mask onto his helmet, leaving it dangling in front of him for the moment. Jason's voice buzzed over the radio.

“Alright Nodus, we're flying out to investigate some suspicious activity across the border. Don't mess this one up Zero, this mission is coming from the top brass.” Keith pulled the oxygen mask, containing his microphone, over his face and responded, “I'll do my best, Pulse.” He made sure the throttle was set to idle, then started his engines. The two massive turbofans behind Keith burst to life, rattling Keith in the cockpit. The engines settled into a gentle hum and Jason contacted the Air Traffic Controllers in the tower above them.

“Grave Oh-Three to control tower, requesting permission for Graverobbers flight Five-Seven to taxi and take-off.” The ATCs came on over an open channel.

“Grave Oh-Three, taxi permission granted, please hold for take-off permission.” Jason looked across to his wingman and gave him a sharp nod. Keith returned the gesture and waited for his flight leader to crawl out of the hangar onto the apron, then followed suit. The two war birds moved slowly across the sun-scorched pavement to the taxiway when Jason called back to the control tower.

“Grave Oh-Three requesting permission to take-off.”

“Control tower to Grave Oh-Three, permission to take-off granted.” Keith was following his leader when Jason's voice came on over the radio again.

“Newbie, that's mine. Call up there and get your own permission.” Keith shook his head, surprised at his forgetfulness, then called up to the control tower.

“Uh, Grave Oh-Four to control tower, requesting permission to take-off.”

“Control tower to Grave Oh-Four, permission to take-off after Grave Oh-Three granted.” Keith followed his flight leader, stopping short of the runway as Jason pulled onto it. Through his tinted visor, Keith could see the numbers 03 emblazoned on the tail, along with the squadron's insignia. As his flight leader engaged military power and careened down the runway, Keith was tracing his own craft's tail markings in his mind. He shook the thought away and pulled onto the runway.

“Grave Oh-Four to control tower, now taking off.” With that, Keith pushed his throttle to full dry thrust and started his journey down the runway. The plane started slowly, grumbling and dragging its feet like a child with temper problems, then kicked into full gear and reached 350 knots seemingly instantly. Keith gently pulled down on the stick and his plane lifted into the air.



“Grave Oh-Three to Grave Oh-Four, everything functioning normally?” Keith pulled his F-15C beside Jason's and issued an Affirmative over the radio, along with a small nod. Jason acknowledged this and Keith moved back into the wingman position as Jason came on over the radio again.

“Alright Zero, our mission is to fly over a nuclear power plant about 300 miles out from the border. We're flying recon, so don't attack the facility.”

“Why would they send out a fighter squadron to do surveillance work?”

“Top brass doesn't want any screw-ups with this one. Apparently some shady business has been going on around here and the government doesn't trust this mission with a UAV.”

“But why fighters?” Keith repeated. “Why not an EW or recon craft?”

“I guess they expect us to run into some trouble out here,” Jason replied. Keith's stomach turned, and he took a reassuring glance at his weapons readouts. Keith sighed and followed Jason into a slight climb as they passed over the border. The pair leveled out above the clouds and Jason came on over the radio.

“We're now officially in Mexican airspace, Zero. ETA at the plant is about two and a half hours. Settle in and get comfortable, because you're going to need to be on the ball once we get to the plant.”



Keith was about to fall asleep as Jason came on over the radio. The young pilot jumped and shook his head.

“Zero, we're about fifteen minutes out from the plant. Lower your altitude to 10,000 feet and maintain radio silence.”

“Romeo, Pulse. Beginning radio silence.” Keith followed after Jason, pitching his nose down to a 30 degree dive. He watched his altitude closely, and pulled up at 10,000 feet. Keith stole a glance downward and watched the mountaintops skim past his plane. The peaks sloped off and gave way to a deserted mountain valley, and Keith could see the nuclear power plant rising into view. It was a squat, rectangular building, made of solid concrete. Three large pillars rose from the roof of the building, expelling smoke into the blue sky above. Keith could see no windows or anything of the type, and the sole door to the inside was on the other side of the building. Jason banked his Eagle and swooped across Keith's view, to his right side. Two large parking lots held countless tanks, helicopters, and men, all sitting by idly. Three SAM launchers sat in the grass surrounding the plant, and Keith stared at them with nervous eyes. He looked over at Jason, who was pointing upwards. Keith nodded quickly and the two rose again, skimming the bottom of the clouds. Keith knew they would be spotted, but a higher altitude lessened the chance of a SAM site getting a bead on you. Keith lost sight of the power plant and followed Jason into a turn when the warning tone went off in the cockpit. His eyes widened and he broke away, reversing his turn. Jason broke radio silence, shouting over the airwaves.

“Nodus! What are you doing?” He banked his aircraft and turned towards his wingman, then noticed the missile rising to meet them.

“Oh, crap.” Jason's missile warning tone went off as well, and he pulled up sharply. Keith could see the burst of smoke preceding the missile launch, then spotted the one coming after him. It was moving fast, abandoning its corkscrew path for a straight beeline toward its target. Keith stopped his bank and pulled up hard. His G-suit started to squeeze on his legs, trying to keep the G-forces from drawing his blood down to his feet. Keith's vision blurred and started to go dark, the missile warning still buzzing in the cockpit. His Eagle started to groan as it reached its peak climb, and Keith pushed down on the stick. The plane flipped over and Keith came face to face with the missile. He sighed as his vision came back and he rolled to the right, turning away. Keith could see the missile pull up and start accelerating toward him, and he panicked.

“Pulse! Help me out!” Keith reversed his turn again and banked to the left as Jason swooped low and engaged full afterburner. Keith knew this maneuver well, and he cut his engines back to the lowest power possible. His flight leader made a swift dive between Keith and the missile, and in the cockpit of the latter's Eagle, the missile warning tone died away. Keith let out a massive sigh, then shook his head in disappointment and watched as Jason quickly evaded the missile. Jason banked and turned to the right and the missile slowed, then detonated before it reached its target.

“Stay on your toes, Zero. Fighters climbing to meet us, bearing 183. They're about 5,000 feet below us. Get ready for a dogfight if need be.”

“Copy that, Pulse. Should we engage?”

“No. We don't know whether they want a fight or not, so let's-” A missile warning tone went off in both pilot's cockpits, cutting off Jason.

“Okay, scratch that. Engage!” Keith rolled inverted, then pulled down on the stick. His Eagle flipped over and went into a sharp dive. Keith could see the enemy aircraft rising to meet them, climbing at an insane rate. Keith armed his cannon, and his HUD switched to GACQ mode. The system automatically targeted the nearest aircraft, which was still out of gun range. Keith increased his throttle a bit and yawed his Eagle into position. The virtual bore sight lined up with the nose of the enemy aircraft, and a soft buzz went off in the cockpit.

“Guns!” Keith squeezed the trigger, and the enemy did the same. He rolled his Eagle, tracers whizzing past his head as he kept up the pressure. Keith's tracers flew wide, and he rolled away from the enemy seconds before the two collided. He went into a wing-over, then rolled out of the maneuver and leveled out at the top of his turn. The enemy plane hadn't turned yet, and Keith pushed his F-15 into full afterburner, arming a Sidewinder. The Mexican pilot went into a wing-over, and Keith followed him. The enemy leveled out, and Keith got a missile lock.

“Zero, Fox Two!” He squeezed the trigger and the heat-seeking missile launched out from underneath his wing, tracking the Mexican fighter's exhaust. The pilot rolled into a left turn, but the missile had a better turn radius and struck the aircraft's single engine. The plane exploded and the pilot narrowly escaped.

“Splash one!” Keith called over the radio, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Well done, kid,” Jason responded. “Keep it up.” Keith glanced at his radar, set to track while scan, and searched for a target. A red blip appeared on the edge of his radar, and he banked toward it. Jason swooped over his head, pursuing an enemy in that direction. Keith armed an AMRAAM and leveled out, pushing the throttle up. His Eagle rocketed forward and the Mexican hostile flew past him like a blur. Keith cut his throttle and engaged the air brake, swinging his F-15 into a sharp turn, the airborne equivalent of a handbrake turn. The Mexican fighter had engaged full afterburner and was gaining distance quickly. Keith followed suit, slamming his throttle to full. Jason's voice crackled over the radio.

“Pulse, splash one. Hostile inbound, bearing 008, coming in fast. You got this one, Newbie?”

“This one's mine,” Keith responded confidently, then a missile lock tone went off in the cockpit. “Zero, Fox Three.” He squeezed the trigger simultaneously, and felt the shutter of the AMRAAM being disengaged from the body of the plane. The projectile's rocket ignited, and the weapon became a streak across the sky, leaving a billowing trail of white smoke behind. The enemy fighter rolled and turned to the left, belly to belly with Jason as he turned to the right. The Mexican hostile went into a high-g wing over and the AMRAAM overshot, losing its lock. The missile, without any sort of target, went into a random corkscrew before detonating. Dammit, Keith muttered under his breath, then lowered the throttle and said over the radio; “Grave Oh-Four to Grave Oh-Three, have you identified the hostile aircraft?”

“The hostile aircraft is an unmarked F-16 Fighting Falcon.” Keith was puzzled, and wasn't afraid to voice his question.

“How did an F-16 get into the hands of the Mexicans?”

“I think it's a mercenary plane,” responded Jason. “They tend to fly unmarked aircraft in case it should get captured. Keeps the organization stable higher up.”

“I don't really care who it belongs to, it tried to kill us, so it goes down.” With that, Keith engaged full afterburner and went after the Falcon yet again. He stole a glance at his weapons readouts. A Sidewinder, an AMRAAM, and 358 rounds left in his cannon. He selected his gun and his HUD fashioned itself into GACQ mode. The fighter had lowered its throttle and didn't see Keith until it was too late. The American cut his throttle and squeezed the trigger, shouting “Guns!” over the radio. The tracer rounds smashed into the F-16's wing as the pilot tried to roll away, tearing the aileron to shreds. The fighter rolled out of control and the pilot ejected.

“Zero, splash two. Is that the last of them?”

“For now. We should probably get back to base.” Jason banked and turned back toward his wingman as Keith changed his heading to the north. Jason slowed down as he banked into the lead position, and the two headed back for base, dark smoke rising from the hills around the plant.