The moment the contrails became visible, they broke formation and went after the Chinese aircraft that hadn’t been targeted. Four of five missiles hit home, with the last passing over the top of one of the Chinese fighters as it dived desperately toward the ground.

There were now six J-11s against the five Americans. Smith twisted in his seat, watching through the canopy while his pilot pushed the trainer’s engines to the very edge.

His combat career had been with the infantry and Special Forces, leaving him with a limited knowledge of aerial warfare. In the end, though, it seemed pretty much the same as the frenzied chaos of ground battles—just a hell of a lot faster and in three dimensions.

It was impossible to pick out individual confrontations in something that looked like a swarm of bees crisscrossed with contrails. One of the F-15s took a series of rounds to its tail, but managed to stay on target and launch one of its missiles at the aircraft in front of it. The AIM-120 hit, but then the damaged American fighter lost control and went into a flat spin that wasn’t recoverable. A fireball erupted to the east, too distant for Smith to tell whether the plane was one of his or one of theirs. A moment later a Chinese aircraft broke from the melee and began streaking in their direction.

“We’ve got an incoming plane,” Smith said, twisting a bit more in his harness to keep his eyes on it.

“I know,” the pilot responded, but other than that he didn’t seem inclined to take any action at all.

“Can we outrun it?” Smith said.

“No way in hell, sir. We’re too heavy and your little toy is compromising our aerodynamics.”

“Can we outmaneuver it?”

“It’s like flying a pig with wings, sir.”

And they were carrying no missiles. Only the Gatling gun.

“ETA to the target?”

“About two and a half minutes.”

It wasn’t enough time—the Chinese fighter was coming up on them fast and none of the F-15s was in a position to break away and engage it.

His pilot rammed the stick forward and Smith found himself pinned to the seat as they dived. The jet shook like it was going to come apart as the Chinese fighter swung in behind.

Smith wanted to look back at the warplane hunting them but the g-forces made it impossible. How close was it? Had it been able to match the ferocity of their dive? Did its pilot have a shot?

His questions were answered a moment later when the cockpit was filled with the dull screech of an alarm. The aircraft behind them had radar lock.