Blackmail

68 BANDAR ABBAS, IRAN

Under the bright air base lights, Russian Air Force Major Vadim Aleyev guided his tactical fighter toward the left strip of the two-runway base. The Iranian Air Force had been kind enough to open its runways and facilities to Russian aircraft, and Bandar Abbas Air Base, occupying a strategic location on Iran’s southern coast near the Strait of Hormuz, was now home to several squadrons of Russian tactical fighters.

Bandar Abbas’s hot desert climate, with summer temperatures peaking near 120 degrees Fahrenheit, wasn’t much different from Aleyev’s last assignment. Having spent several months in Syria flying over one hundred missions in support of President Bashar al-Assad’s regime, Aleyev was one of Russia’s most experienced combat pilots. He now was preparing to relieve one of the fighters aloft in Russia’s combat air patrol over their ships in the Gulf of Oman, ready to defend them if necessary.

Aleyev applied the brakes, coasting to a halt beside another Sukhoi Su-35S waiting on the adjacent runway, while ahead, another fighter completed final preparations for takeoff. Although Aleyev’s Su-35S was one of Russia’s most advanced multi-role fighters, designed to engage air, land, and sea targets, Aleyev’s aircraft was armed with ten R-77-1 active-radar homing missiles tonight. Like the jet beside him and the one in front, they were configured for air-to-air combat, should the American carrier strike groups in the Arabian Sea attack.

The engines of the Su-35S in front of Aleyev flared, and the aircraft accelerated down the runway. As the jet beside Aleyev pulled forward, next in line for takeoff in the alternating sequence, a bright flash at the end of Aleyev’s runway caught his attention. The Su-35S taking off disintegrated in an orange fireball, and chunks of runway and aircraft rained down on the air base.

The Su-35S beside Aleyev began streaking down its runway and Aleyev followed suit, engaging both afterburners as another explosion rocked the base. As his fighter accelerated to takeoff speed, a crater opened up just ahead of the fighter on the adjacent runway and the jet disappeared into the roiling orange-and-black cloud, with only bits and pieces of the aircraft emerging on the other side.

Another explosion bathed Aleyev’s cockpit in an orange hue, leaving a crater in his runway only fifty meters ahead. He was below takeoff speed but had no choice; he pulled back on his stick when he reached the crater. His wheels cleared the far edge with only a foot to spare, and Aleyev climbed into the night sky as additional bombs hit the air base, the explosions illuminating the landscape below in a pulsating orange glow.

As he rose into the darkness, Aleyev checked his instrumentation. Only eighteen aircraft from his cycle, launching from various bases across Iran, had made it airborne. There were another hundred above the Sea of Oman, and although they’d be running low on fuel, there were several tankers aloft. Aleyev turned southeast with a grim determination. With the assistance of the missile batteries on the Iranian coast, they would teach the Americans a lesson they would not soon forget.