Chapter 101 — The Tomcat Threat
Returning to Sokolovka, Andrei immediately noticed the shift in atmosphere. The base no longer carried the weight of old resentments or internal power struggles. Discipline had returned. Purpose filled the air. And above all, respect—genuine and unanimous—followed Andrei wherever he walked.
The reform, the investigations, and the quiet but total dismantling of Kozhedub's corrupt network had left an indelible mark. Officers and enlisted men alike knew that this renewed spirit of professionalism had a name: Andrei.
Even Kozhedub's disgraced nephew—sentenced and gone—was now a ghost of the past, and his fall had been met with silent satisfaction by many.
During a walk across the airfield, Andrei turned to Colonel Ivanov beside him. "Have the Americans been behaving while I was away?"
"The past two months, they've kept their heads down. Not even their recon aircraft dare cross the center line of the Sea of Japan," Ivanov replied. Then his expression darkened slightly. "But we just picked up movement from the U.S. Navy. The aircraft carrier Midway has been rotated out of Yokosuka. Replaced by a Kitty Hawk-class."
Andrei's steps slowed.
Kitty Hawk?
His brows furrowed sharply. That changed things.
He remembered the strategic balance of the region well. Following the U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam, the Pentagon's naval forces had been stretched thin. For years, the American presence in Japan was more symbolic than serious. No permanent carrier groups had been stationed at Yokosuka. The Midway was old, limited, and largely a placeholder. The threat it posed was minimal.
But now, a Kitty Hawk-class ship was in port.
And that meant something very specific.
It meant the arrival of F-14 Tomcats.
Andrei's mind snapped to the implications. The MiG-25 had, until now, enjoyed air superiority over the Sea of Japan. It was fast, intimidating, and unmatched in high-altitude performance. When Andrei had downed a U.S. Blackbird last year, the shockwave across the Pacific was immense. He had made the Americans cautious—defensive even.
But Tomcats would change the game.
"That carrier must be the Kitty Hawk herself," Andrei muttered. "She went in for retrofit last year. Now she's back. And with her… comes a serious problem."
The MiG-25 had been a sledgehammer, unmatched in speed and climb, but it had limitations—particularly in close combat and low-altitude dogfighting. And now, stationed just a few hundred kilometers from Soviet territory, the Tomcat posed the gravest threat yet to the 513th Regiment.
"The F-14 will be their answer to us," Andrei said grimly. "They've chosen to show their teeth."
He remembered the Tomcat well. Twin-engine, variable-sweep wing, advanced radar, and long-range Phoenix missiles—it had been designed from the ground up for fleet defense. Andrei had studied it before. He knew it was the most advanced carrier-based interceptor the U.S. had ever built.
But he also remembered its flaws.
"The intelligence department needs to prioritize this," Andrei told Ivanov. "We need hard data on the Tomcat's avionics, weapons systems, and especially—its engines."
Ivanov nodded. "We'll relay the request."
Andrei didn't say more. He couldn't—not without raising questions.
In truth, he already knew too much.
In his past life, he had read extensively about the Tomcat—its brilliance and its burdens. He knew about the AWG-9 radar's power. He also knew about the TF30 turbofan engines—civilian-derived, underperforming, and prone to compressor stalls in combat maneuvers.
It wasn't Grumman's fault. The Navy had pushed the aircraft into production before high-thrust turbofans were ready. For years, F-14s flew with a weak heart. It wasn't until the late 1980s that the F110 engines corrected the problem. Until then, skilled pilots knew the Tomcat had a dangerous vulnerability in high-alpha maneuvers.
Andrei would exploit that in time.
But for now, he had to let the KGB dig up the information on their own. He couldn't explain how he knew.
He also remembered the historical irony. In time, the Tomcat would be retired—replaced by far less capable multirole fighters like the F/A-18. The Americans would shelve their finest fleet interceptor, never truly tested in combat. Only Iran, isolated and sanctioned, would keep the Tomcat flying long after the U.S. abandoned it.
But that was decades away.
Right now, the Kitty Hawk had docked at Yokosuka.
Right now, the F-14 was real.
And for the first time in over a year, Andrei knew that air superiority over the Sea of Japan was no longer guaranteed.
He would have to earn it—one flight at a time.