Skies Ablaze

by Jetstream S

A Relaxing... ish Flight

May 13, 2015 0900 hours...

"Luke Tower, this is X-ray One and Two requesting taxi and takeoff on runway three eight, bearing one seven three East."

"Copy X-ray flight, ATC confirms skies are clear, proceed to runway Three R."

Allen pushed the throttle forward slightly, causing the F-35E to roll forward.

"X-ray One, contact ground."

"X-ray Two, contact ground."

Allen turned to see his wing man, Charles, begin to follow. Rolling onto the tarmac from the parking lot, he flipped the switch to go into STOL mode. The muffled humming and thuds of hatches opening and locking met his ears as he let a satisfied smirk come across his face.

"Alright Two, enter Short Takeoff and Landing. Tower, thank Air Traffic Control for me."

"Copy X-ray."

Allen punched right rudder, positioning his jet for takeoff. He turned to his left and right looking back and up, making sure the VTOL fan door was open. Seeing it was, he pressed both rudder pedals, activating the breaks and stopping a few feet short of the main tarmac.

"Luke Tower, X-ray One and Two awaiting final turnout."

"Yo Allen," asked Charles, "ever been over the Bermuda Triangle?"

"Negative Two, I've heard some freaky shit about it though. Why do you ask?"

"I'm going over the flight logs, and our little trip to Ramstein is gonna take us right over it."

"Well, I'm not one to complain but I thi--"

A transmission came over the radio, cutting him off, "X-ray One and Two, you are cleared for takeoff. Unrestricted climb to thirty thousand approved, have fun in the Triangle."

"Copy tower, proceeding to primary."

Allen and Charles both threw their throttle handles forward and launched down the runway. Aided by the STOL engine, they were airborne in mere seconds. Alright, let's see what this thing can do... Allen raised the landing gear pulled back on the stick, making the F-35E heave into a near vertical climb, followed closely by Charles. His eyes watched as the altimeter began spinning rapidly down, 22,000... 26,000... 28,000... He rolled inverted, pulling on the stick once again to level out on his back, then completed the roll. The result was a smooth transition to level flight at just under 30,000 feet.

"X-ray flight heads up traffic eighteen thousand feet northbound radar contact, maintain flight level three zero thousand."

"Copy Tower, X-ray One out."

Charles pulled up, abreast to his left wing. Allen nodded to him, setting the F-35E's autopilot to only maintain elevator control. He then decided to take in the sights, rolling slightly to the right and looking down at the orange and red desert below. Arizona wasn't exactly the most hospitable state given the intense temperatures, but from the air, it was a sight to behold. Luke Air force Base had extended an invitation to Charles and himself for an air show to demonstrate the new F-35E. Despite some rough weather conditions, the flight went rather well. Charles had the pleasure of doing a very low supersonic flyby for the crowd, busting out some windows in the process.

"Luke Center X-ray One contact Miami Center two seven at decimal three four."

Allen made a mental note of Luke Center's command, still enjoying the view. He watched as the horizon seemed to split down the middle, head-on. The Grand Canyon.

"Two, check it out."

Charles looked forward, eying the canyon in the distance. Blinking rapidly twice, the HMD began measuring the distance to the terrain obstruction.

"Looks like the Grand Canyon, about a hundred miles out. Why?"

Allen thought about his decision for a second, before making up his mind. He switched to cockpit frequencies, only allowing Charles to hear his voice.

"I'm gonna pull some Star Wars shit."

"Wait wha--"

Allen rolled inverted, pulling into a steep dive. The altimeter began spinning, 29,000... 17,000... 6,000... He completed the roll, pulling up as hard as he could.

Warning, over G.

The computer repeated the message throughout his pull, annoying him more than trying to stay conscious. The familiar death-grip of the G suit around his legs and stomach was the only thing keeping the blood in his head and chest. Nevertheless, the black curtain of a blackout began falling over his vision, just over five hundred feet. The canyon, much closer now, resembled a winding hallway with only the clear blue sky as the ceiling.

Charles watched with awe as his flight lead approached the opening of the canyon, descending ever closer to it's gaping maw. Oh God, he's insane... He thought, watching as the afterburner lit up like an orange traffic cone. He pushed the nose down, putting on negative Gs and lifting him slightly from his seat. He loved that feeling. Despite his insanity, Charles would follow him anywhere. I must be outta my mind...

Allen approached the opening of the canyon, rolling inverted and activating the ATFR. The Active Terrain Following Radar was standard in the F-35E, and it allowed the HMD to plot a visible course through a canyon or other low level obstruction by use of way points. It also projected the "recommended speed" for each turn it detected.

"Alright, time to test this new ATFR out!"

He pulled on the stick while inverted, and smoothly rolled into the canyon.

Caution, pull up, caution, pull --

Allen switched off the vocal warning system, and it was replaced with not a loud alarm, but a noticeably annoying one. No matter, Allen would not be denied his fun, no matter the risk or annoyance. The first turn was coming up, and he activated the rudder brake, making him slow to three hundred knots. He rolled to the left, pulling back into a high G turn. He quickly reversed the motion, taking the counter turn even better than the first. Charles simply watched from his higher altitude position, mouth somewhat in an uncontrolled gape. Seeing a straightaway, Allen fire-walled the throttle handle, igniting the afterburner. Realizing the next turn was much closer than anticipated, he pulled up, shooting out of the canyon and rolling inverted. When the half-circle turn returned to another straightaway, he pulled down and rolled back into level flight within the canyon.

"Allen, enough man, you're gonna get yourself killed!"

Allen paid no heed to his wing man's words as he activated the breaks again, and flew underneath a large rock between the cliff sides.

"Woo! Low bridge!" He yelled, oblivious to the fact he was nearly killed.

Going nearly five hundred miles her hour, the next obstacle was a very narrow opening between the canyon, where Allen rolled and stood on his left wingtip. Even at the F-35E's thinnest sector, it was barely enough to squeeze through the crack in the rocks. Allen punched right rudder, launching sideways out of the canyon. He barrel rolled into level flight, panting loudly into the mic.

"Dude, for fuck sake, you could've been killed! Who exactly is the Flight Lead again?!"

"Exactly," Allen interrupted, "so drop it."

Charles opened his mouth to speak, but he knew very well to shut it. The silence remained until Miami came into view.

"X-ray One-One Miami center, you have us on radar?"

"Miami Center X-ray One-One and Two-One radar contact, maintain current flight heading and level, three zero thousand. Be advised, your current flight path will take you into the heart of the Bermuda Triangle. We will loose comms. and radar contact once you enter, so be sure and make it quick. There is a KC-135 Stratotanker en-route to your rendezvous, callsign Delta Two-Seven."

"X-ray One-One and Two-One Miami Center, solid copy"

Now the pair were out over the ocean,

Allen looked at the instrument panel of his F-35E. The large touch screen that displayed everything didn’t seem to align with his current trajectory, or altitude for that matter. He looked at his GPS and through the static saw that he was indeed in the Bermuda Triangle, the area known for disappearances and extreme magnetic disturbances. Even though the F-35E Lightning III was technologically superior to that of its predecessors, it’s instruments were not immune to the strange effects of this region.

“Allen, … A..en…,”

“Looks as though the radio is also bugging up,” Allen said. “Two, are your instruments beginning to bug up?” Allen asked, raising his voice a bit so the mic could pick it up.

“Yeah, they’re really jumping around. I think the radar is showing a tanker not far from here. We should fuel up. We got another four hundred miles to the next tanker. Who knows what will happen. A few MIGs can burn our fuel right up.”

Allen looked at his fuel gauge. It was pressure controlled, so it was clear and not bugged up. It was a good idea after all.

“Good idea Charles. Looks like I have about 2,000 pounds of fuel left.”

“That’s cutting it WAY too close man! You aren’t a Viper Driver anymore; the F-35’s engine burns about 25 gallons a MINUTE--”

“AT peak thrust,” Allen said, cutting him off. “I see the tanker. Tanker this is Major Allen and First Lieutenant Charles, X-ray One-One and Two-One requesting immediate gas-n-go, fuel state critical.”

The tanker didn’t respond as fast as Allen had hoped, and he began to panic at the sight of less than 100 pounds of fuel remaining. His engine began to sputter. He lowered power to slow fuel consumption and it was then the tanker responded.

“X-ray flight you are cleared for refueling. IF signatures are cleared, drink up.”

Allen's heart began to race as the sputtering increased in volume and frequency. His hand tightened around the throttle, pulling it back farther to slow enough for docking. His hand grasped the stick like the "Oh Shit" handle of an overturning truck. His panic seemed to sharpen his senses, making maneuvering the F-35E somewhat erratic. Faster than he could blink, his hand involuntarily pressed the button to open the fuel receiving hatch. The awaiting fuel boom loomed in front of him, almost taunting. C'mon Allen, low fuel means a chance, no fuel means ejecting over Texas. Not a bad idea, but the 288 million dollar aircraft strapped to your ass might not land so well.

His thoughts were halted by the sound of a loud thud.

"X-ray One-One, contact."

Allen shook his head slightly, wondering what just happened. He saw the fuel boom over his canopy, and by the sound of rushing fuel, he was connected. Wow, my subconscious needs to take over more often...

He looked to his fuel gauge, seeing the primitive-looking needle begin rising from zero. He looked from the instrument panel to the plane only a few feet away. Charles held up his hand in a thumbs up position, to which Allen returned.

"Alright, you done yet?" Charles asked, the low fuel alarm ringing though his mic.

"Releasing dock, you're up Two-One."

Allen released the dock, pushing the nose down slightly and pulling up right after. He then barrel rolled over Charles, coming to level flight abreast of his left wing.

"Show off..." Charles teased.

"Yea well, if you got skill, use it. That's what I always say."

"Hold on while I dock, I think I hear my engine dying."

Allen assumed a watch position, radar scanning for any potential threats throughout the sky

"You know Allen, Ramstein is supposed to be host to the Thunderbirds this weekend... maybe they have word on your application?"

Allen looked to his wing man, who was flying steadily abreast of his right wing, still refueling.

"Don't know man, They have hundreds of applications, and Thunderbird Three doesn't retire until the twentieth."

"Yea, but wouldn't they want a new pilot to be ready before their next show? I mean, having a fresh pilot join right after Three leaves would be like handing a Private a SMAW and telling him to hit a tank from a mile away."

He paused, allowing his leader to think on his next words. His reply made him laugh,

"You think too much dude."

"Hah, I learned from the best."

Allen chuckled a bit, and looked around into the sky. His HMD followed his eyes' every move, scanning for threats along his line of sight. Seeing nothing but bright blue, He lifted the visor, disabling the HMD.

"Well, looks like it's smooth sailing to Germany. Not another bird for miles."

He looked at the long range radar, seeing nothing.

"One hundred and seventy miles to be exact," he corrected.

Thinking it was going to be a long, boring flight, Allen gave the command to switch to autopilot.

Warning, atmospheric disturbance detected. Flight path alteration advised.

"Yo Allen, you heard that right?" Charles asked, pulling up closer to Allen's wing.

"Yea man, But since when does the F-35E need to change flight paths for a little weather?"

Charles dove deep into thought, analyzing the new aircraft's strengths. The new F-35E, operational as of late 2014, was the pinnacle of the F-35 legacy. Fitted with all-new Thrust Vectoring technology, It's maneuverability closely rivaled (or in the hands of a skilled pilot could even surpass) that of the F/A-22C Raptor. Numerous upgrades to the already extremely powerful Pratt and Whitney F-135 Turbofan have made it even more powerful and reliable, and doing so enabled super cruise, a state of flight that allowed an aircraft to fly extremely fast without aid of the afterburner. Along with engine upgrades, The twin air intakes now featured titanium debris screens that could deflect an oncoming bird and almost any other object that threatened the blades of the main compressor fan. To top all that off, the cockpit now featured new and improved visibility, cameras mounted in both rudders for rear surveillance, and a remote canopy opening feature. The fuselage was also tweaked a bit, cornering the round profile of the main fuselage. Instead of a cylinder, it now resembled a trapezoid. This allowed more space for fuel, increasing the F-35E's capacity from 18,000 lbs to over 21,000 lbs. One of the engine upgrades allowed the F-35E to switch to VTOL while in any situation whether it be in a dogfight, or landing on a twenty foot wide plateau in the middle of the desert. It's very first upgrade incorporated a type of artificial intelligence, known as Betty. Betty was responsible for warning the pilot of considerable dangers, such as missile lock, low altitude and incoming threats on the radar. "She" could even strike up small talk on very long flights. In short, the F-35E came as prepared as any pilot would ever need it to be.

A sudden alarm broke his concentration, making him face his radar out of instinct. One contact appeared on the screen, unidentified.

"Allen, looks like we have an aircraft on radar. Possible bandit bearing one eight three West, one hundred and ten miles out. Looks like its coming from Africa or something."

"I guess so," Allen replied, "let's check it out, keep your finger on the trigger."

"Got it boss."

They both accelerated past mach 1.5, speeding toward the merge. After about seven minutes of super cruise, the distance had closed to just under fifty miles.

"Alright Charles, would you like to do the honors?"

"Aww, why me?"

"Because you love to hear yourself talk am I right?"

"Well, I do have the best singing voice out of the squadron..."

Charles adjusted his frequency, enabling all radios within range to hear.

"Attention unidentified aircraft, this is United States Air Force First Lieutenant Harland of X-ray squadron. You are now entering United States airspace, state your intentions."

A few seconds went by before Charles adjusted the frequency more.

"Attention unident--"

"We heard you the first time Lieutenant. This is Varias One en-route to Tinker Air Force Base from Durban Air Force base in South Africa.

"State aircraft specifications," Allen ordered.

"C-5 Galaxy, call sign Varias One, along with two F-15SE Silent Eagles of Omega Squadron for escorts. I'm hauling two M-1 Abrams and one Pratt and Whitney F-135 Turbofan."

Allen thought about the conversation, and allowed them to pass.

"Alright Varias One, maintain current bearing and flight level."

"Roger X-ray One, proceeding to primary, Varias out."

Allen looked to the east, spotting three glints of metal. There they are.

Caution, unknown disturbance detected, three miles current vector. Flight path alteration advised.