Climb! Keep climbing! The MiG-25 surged higher into the sky, the roar of its twin engines fading into a low hum in the thinning air. Outside, the world faded into an endless blue as the aircraft pierced the lower boundary of the stratosphere. Andre gripped the control stick, eyes locked on the altimeter. 23,000 meters... 23,500... then 24,000. At this height, he was flying higher than any operational combat aircraft in the world. Only the American SR-71 Blackbird could boast a comparable ceiling.
"Direction 240. Maintain Mach 2.4," came the calm voice of ground command in his headset.
"Roger, heading 240. Speed 2.4," the second brigade's lead pilot confirmed.
Andre adjusted his heading accordingly. The MiG-25 arced through the sky, leveling out into a supersonic cruise. The stratospheric air, dry and thin, offered little resistance as the aircraft rocketed forward. Two long trails of superheated exhaust marked its path across the upper atmosphere.
He closed the throttle slightly to stabilize the flight. Inside the cockpit, the temperature was steadily climbing despite the high-altitude chill outside. The sealed canopy was doing its best, but the high-speed friction and radar system power draw were warming the instruments. Sweat formed beneath his flight helmet. He reached forward, flipping a switch to activate the upgraded radar system.
This wasn't just any MiG-25. Andre's fighter had been retrofitted with the RP-25M pulse Doppler radar. Unlike the older Cyclone-A system, which was barely capable of basic single-target tracking, the new radar had look-down/shoot-down capability and a respectable scan range. The 90cm inverted Cassegrain antenna emitted powerful electromagnetic pulses, penetrating the sky below.
"Radar active," Andre reported. His eyes narrowed as green blips began to appear on the display.
"Target group identified. Range 100 kilometers. Altitude 13,000. Velocity Mach 0.8. Count twenty."
Twenty targets. The radar was doing its job, and fast. The Sapphire-25 system lit up the screen with return echoes from the enemy formation. The digital integration wasn't perfect, but it was a leap ahead of the vacuum-tube legacy tech still used in many other aircraft. It could detect, track, and engage multiple targets at once—at least on paper.
Far across the sea, an American E-2 Hawkeye circling near Hokkaido also picked up the Soviets.
"Kraken Squadron, we have bogeys inbound. Eighteen contacts, bearing 090, range 100 kilometers," the early warning officer called out.
The 13th Fighter Squadron, 35th Fighter Wing—known as the Kraken Squadron—had launched earlier from Misawa Air Base. Their F-4E Phantom IIs had been circling in combat air patrol formation when the MiG-25s were detected. The two forces were closing fast.
"Drop external tanks, activate burners. Prepare for radar lock," Squadron Leader Major Dick Houston commanded.
One after another, the American fighters shed weight, then roared into a climb. The J79 engines shrieked as afterburners engaged, flames pouring from the rear. In the rear seat of each Phantom, radar operators activated the APQ-120 radars. Compact and transistor-based, these systems offered strong multi-mode scanning and had already acquired high-altitude targets.
"Targets locked," the radar operator called.
Major Houston knew the limitations of his aircraft. At this altitude and speed, the AIM-7 Sparrow missiles wouldn't be effective. But this wasn't about a shootdown. It was about proving control. Cold War air engagements often didn't come down to missiles fired, but radars locked. Prove you could pull the trigger—and make the other guy blink.
Back on the Soviet side, Kozhedub's voice broke into Andre's headset.
"Dive and lock! Get under 20,000 meters for engagement."
Andre frowned. Diving? That was the opposite of what the MiG-25 was designed for. Its strengths were high-altitude speed and long-range radar. Diving only sacrificed their advantage.
But he wasn't flying with the Cyclone-A anymore.
"Lock achieved. 032 requests launch clearance," he said into the radio, flipping his radar to fire-control mode.
"Negative! Do not fire unless engaged!" Kozhedub's voice was sharp, almost panicked. He hadn't briefed Andre on the rules of engagement. The young pilot hadn't even attended the emergency readiness meeting. He was seconds from sparking a Cold War firefight.
Andre grinned inside his helmet. The lock wasn't about firing. It was a statement.
"Target locked. Maintaining heading," he replied.
In the Phantom cockpits, warning lights flickered. The MiG-25s had locked on. Major Houston grimaced.
"Looks like they have a new radar system. Maintain formation. Do not fire unless fired upon."
For nearly a minute, both formations flew on intersecting paths, locked onto each other, their radars humming with silent threat. The Soviet MiG-25s glided like silver spears. The American Phantoms tracked them with narrowed eyes, their weapons armed but fingers off the trigger.
Then the Soviet fighters pulled up slightly, arcing away, their mission accomplished. They had demonstrated dominance at high altitude, shown off their new radar, and avoided direct conflict.
On the Soviet side, Kozhedub exhaled in relief. The last thing they needed was a missile flying over the Sea of Japan. Moscow wanted provocation without escalation. Andrei had danced on the line—and managed to walk away.
Back in his cockpit, Andre let his grip on the throttle ease. The MiG-25 coasted through the sky, Mach 2.4 and steady. He glanced down at the radar screen one last time before flipping it off.
Another silent confrontation. Another step in rewriting history. Andrei didn't fire a shot, but his presence would echo through debriefings on both sides of the Pacific.
The Cold War was fought in silence, shadows, and signals. And this chapter had just closed—without a single missile leaving the rail.