Chapter 107 – Supersonic Provocation
"The altitude is 20,000, speed is 1,000, and it's still accelerating!" Almost at the same time, the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk at the rear also received the pilot's report, and everyone on the bridge frowned.
Damn it.
"The altitude is over 20,000—it can only be the Soviet MiG-25," said Colonel Ted, the flight wing commander. "But the radar return of a MiG-25 isn't normally this strong. Our Tomcat picked it up at a range of 300 kilometers, something that usually only happens with large targets like the Tu-95."
The contradiction was obvious. What exactly were the Soviets doing? A Tu-95-sized echo with the flight characteristics of a MiG-25? That made no sense. If the Tu-95 could suddenly achieve Mach 3 speeds, then the U.S. Navy—and all of NATO—would be in serious trouble.
Fortunately, a radio transmission from Captain William, the wingman's radar operator, brought clarity: "Damn, the target has split—it's not a large Tu-95, it's three MiG-25s!"
They were flying in dense formation.
Aware of the Americans' electronic superiority, Andrei had planned this tactic before takeoff. Ground radar and early warning systems could detect high-altitude MiG-25s from long distances, but dense formations could confuse enemy tracking. This was a page taken from the Syrian Air Force in the 1973 October War, where similar tactics helped mislead Israeli defenses.
Three MiG-25s—one MiG-25R reconnaissance aircraft and two MiG-25PD interceptors—had launched from Kamenei Ilyushchy Airbase. They maintained tight formation: five meters apart in both height and length, forming a near-perfect triangle. On radar, the group appeared as a single large echo. It was a daring maneuver requiring absolute precision; one slip could mean a deadly mid-air collision.
Andrei piloted No. 032. Lieutenant Alexander was in No. 027. Both were seasoned veterans. Leading the formation was the reconnaissance plane from a sister regiment. They had cruised at 10,000 meters and 700 km/h, giving the illusion of a lumbering Tu-95.
Now, 300 kilometers from the American exercise zone, the trio began their climb and acceleration. At these speeds, the dense formation would naturally break apart. But it had served its purpose.
The roar of afterburners echoed across the sky as the MiG-25s soared higher, faster. Their wings bore red stars, their fuselages gleamed in the sunlight, and the Soviet hammer-and-sickle insignia flashed with defiance.
In his cockpit, Andrei felt a surge of exhilaration. They were about to streak directly over the American carrier group. He wanted to witness the Americans' response firsthand. Would they fire? Even if they did, there was little on board capable of hitting a Mach 3 target.
At these speeds and altitudes, the MiG-25 was virtually untouchable. During the Iran-Iraq and Gulf Wars, MiG-25s were only downed at low or medium altitudes. At full performance, they were nearly impossible to intercept. Not even the Phoenix missile posed a real threat.
From his canopy, Andrei could see the curvature of the Earth. A view usually reserved for astronauts was now visible through his helmet visor. Every time he saw it, it stirred something in him.
"Beep, beep." A warning tone crackled in his earphones.
Radar lock.
"Report, 032, radar illumination detected," Lieutenant Alexander radioed.
Radar lock meant a potential launch. But Andrei was unfazed.
"Hold formation. Continue to climb," he replied calmly. "Altitude and speed are our shield."
Altitude and speed—this was the MiG-25's gospel. In the 1973 war, MiG-25s flew reconnaissance missions over Israeli airspace without a single successful interception. Even against Tomcats, the outcome would be no different. And in this scenario, the Americans had no legal grounds to fire.
This wasn't like the incident with Belenko's defection. This was a calculated show of strength. If the Americans fired unprovoked, they'd be blamed for escalating tensions. During the Cold War, despite countless standoffs, both sides typically adhered to a set of unspoken rules: don't shoot first.
"Phoenix missile ready for launch—requesting permission to fire," said the RIO aboard one of the Tomcats.
The AIM-54 Phoenix was the most advanced air-to-air missile in the U.S. arsenal, with a theoretical range of over 200 kilometers. But this range required optimal launch conditions: the missile climbed to high altitude where air resistance was minimal before diving toward its target.
Yet the missile had a ceiling—24,000 meters. Only the later AIM-54C, introduced in the late 1980s, could reach 30,000 meters. At the current rate, the MiG-25s would soon exceed the Phoenix's effective envelope. Once past that, interception would be impossible.
Onboard the Kitty Hawk, Captain Steve listened to the launch request. But he shook his head.
No.
They were still over international waters. Launching missiles in neutral airspace would be seen as a deliberate act of war—something Washington would not tolerate.
And yet, if they did nothing, three MiG-25s would tear past overhead unchallenged.