Rogue Element

Hasanuddin Air Force Base, Sulawesi, 2305 Zulu, Wednesday, 29 April

Captain Radit ‘Raptor’ Jatawaman lit the afterburner and the F5 Tiger 11 sprang forward. The acceleration pushed the pilot back into his seat, taking some of the pressure off the tightly adjusted five-point harness. His eyes focused on a point at the end of the long runway as the world shooting past his peripheral vision became increasingly blurred. There were only a couple of knots of headwind floating down the airfield into the aircraft’s nose, and the sky above was a cloudless blue; a beautiful day to fly. The sweep hand on the airspeed indicator hit the right number. Raptor fed some gentle back pressure on the stick and the F5 rotated off the strip.

His eyes scanned the dials that monitored the turbine’s health. Everything was as it should be. The old fighter responded well to his input. It climbed away easily from the suck of gravity without any weapons or external fuel tanks attached to underwing hard points. Raptor cycled up the undercarriage quickly before the aircraft’s airspeed exceeded the manufacturer’s maximum limit for leaving those bits exposed to the airflow. He went through the checks listed on a thigh-pad on his g-suit. He deselected the afterburner. Without the additional savage thrust it provided, the F5 settled into its best rate of climb. Raptor called the tower to inform the controller that he was climbing to his cleared altitude before initiating the standard crosswind turn. The tower then cleared him out of controlled airspace and into restricted military airspace.

It had not been long since Raptor had flown the Tiger. He’d departed the squadron less than two months ago after getting the call to fly Falcons. F-16s. The Tiger was a good little fighter but it was starting to show its age, especially in its avionics suite, which had to be three or four generations behind the state-of-the-art. Although it was still one of his country’s primary front-line fighters, Raptor, and everyone else in the air force, knew the Tigers would be merely target practice against the more advanced fighters of the region. The transfer to an F-16 squadron was like a gift from God. It was every Indonesian fighter pilot’s dream to pilot the legendary Falcon. And he, Raptor, had been chosen.

The F5 he was flying had been in the workshop having some minor problems in its avionics package debugged, and was now ready to come back on the flight line. Surely one of the regular F5 pilots could have taken it for a test flight? It seemed odd to him that they’d asked him to do it. No one else available, they said. Still, he didn’t really mind, and he was still current on the type. The F5 was a sweet aircraft and he was happy to take one out for a spin for old times’ sake. He thought he’d probably pack in a few loops and rolls too. He applied pressure to the stick and felt the aircraft respond. Yes, it was light and nimble; a nice little package.

He lit the afterburner for the thrill of it. Fuel was instantly dumped in the turbine’s tail pipe and ignited. The gas from the ensuing controlled explosion exited furiously in an orange cone, forcing Raptor back in his seat as the fighter leapt forward.

A little back pressure on the stick and the F-5 climbed vertically to 15 000 feet. Raptor deselected the burner and levelled out. He aileron-rolled the aircraft first, deflecting the stick slightly to the left. The Tiger’s roll rate was so fast that the aircraft’s nose was still slightly above the horizon, where it should be, when the wings returned to the level position. Next, he pulled back on the stick until four gs registered on the accelerometer. The aircraft’s nose came up steadily, and then continued over until it was flying wings level with the horizon, inverted. Raptor kept the stick position constant and the Tiger continued to scribe a giant vertical circle in the air. The gs started building again as it dived back to its starting position at the base of the circle. The aircraft buffeted slightly, which brought a smile to Raptor’s lips — he’d just flown through his own turbulence created at the loop’s beginning, indicating a perfectly symmetrical manoeuvre.

Next, he joined high and low yo-yos together, pulling five and six-g climbing and descending turns, creeping up on clouds then blasting holes through them exuberantly. He was congratulating himself on having the best job in the world when a small explosion rocked the Tiger and filled the cabin with smoke. The smell of an electrical fire found its way into his oxygen mask. The stick felt heavy and he deflected it slightly to the right to see how the aircraft would respond. Something was very wrong. The Tiger continued to roll to the right once the stick was centred. Indeed, the stick position had no effect on the aileron’s deflection. They had locked up solid. The fighter rolled once, twice, three times around its longitudinal axis before the nose started to dip, and the arc scribed by the nose became more elliptical.

Raptor tried to reduce the roll rate by using a little left rudder and retarding the throttle. This worked to some degree, but the plane continued to roll. Too much rudder input would cause a cascade of other stability problems he could well do without, so Raptor kept his foot pressure to a minimum. He found that he did have some control over the aircraft’s pitch but not to a significant degree.

A Mayday call was made in the calmest voice he could muster, giving his position and a brief account of his difficulties. ATC responded that it would immediately dispatch SAR to his position.

Raptor wrestled the aircraft down to 3000 feet and still it rolled around its longitudinal axis. He kept his cool and his spatial orientation. Raptor was a good pilot, but this aircraft was determined to drill a hole in mother earth and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Raptor waited until the Tiger was at the top of its roll before pulling the yellow and black striped rubber ejector release handles between his legs. He tugged hard. Nothing. He tried again. A sudden explosion should have sent him and his seat skywards to safety, away from the metal coffin spinning to its doom. Raptor fought the Tiger all the way to his death. The aircraft hit the sea nose low and inverted. The impact tore the aircraft, and his body, into very small chunks.

Air Force Colonel Ari Ajirake received the report of the death of one of his pilots at breakfast. The lieutenant, who phoned him with the news, thought his commanding officer took it well.