“Good thing the Libyans can’t seem to shoot straight,” the aircraft commander, Randall “Fangs” Harper, commented. “Otherwise we’d be Swiss cheese by now.” They had successfully fired two Kh-27 missiles at Libyan surface-to-air missile sites; one site was apparently destroyed, and the other shut down before the missile hit and never came back on the air again. Out of six attempts to launch Kh-15 attack missiles from the aft bomb bay, only two were successful, and of the four unsuccessful launches, they had to emergency-jettison two of them because their internal chemical batteries had overheated and threatened to blow the missiles—and the Megafortress— up with them. They had to stay at high altitude, above thirty thousand feet, to stay out of range of antiaircraft artillery and short-range antiaircraft missiles—the Libyans even still used searchlights to try and find the bombers.

Their mission was pretty much a bust, thanks to the unreliable Russian standoff weapons—except for the FlightHawk unmanned combat aircraft. Although they were not armed, they still had enough gadgetry and magic in them to affect the outcome of this mission.

“Coming up on the release point, sixty seconds ... now,” Kowalski announced. “Both birds are in the green and ready”

“It’s about time something we’re carrying works,” Harper mused.

At the planned launch point, Kowalski launched both FlightHawks within two minutes of each other. Their thirty-minute flights would take them on a zigzag track within ten miles either side of an ingress corridor they had planned for the second EB-52 Megafortress. The cruise missiles descended to fifteen thousand feet aboveground, powering up their turbofan engines and unfolding their wings as they fell from altitude.

The NightHawks were small and stealthy enough that they were almost invisible to Libyan search radars. At irregular intervals along their flight, however, they would suddenly begin sending out bursts of radar and radio energy and deploying small radar reflectors that would instantly make them appear on radar as if they were the size of Boeing 747s. When the Libyan air defense radars popped on, the RightHawks would instantly plot their position and type of system, transmit the enemy threat locations to the Megafortresses, then deactivate the reflectors and emissions to virtually disappear from radar. In just a few minutes, the RightHawks had flushed out almost a dozen new antiaircraft threats. The tactic worked great...

. .. until both NightHawks were shot down within seconds of each other, one by random, sweeping bursts of antiaircraft artillery fire, the other by a MiG-23 fighter with a radar-guided missile that had just showed up over the capital on air defense patrol.

“Zero, this is Fangs,” Harper radioed. “Be advised, we’ve got bandits in the area.” He stole a glance at Kowalski’s supercockpit display, which showed the entire battlefield area, along with their wingman and the inbound infantrymen, in a “God’s-eye” view. “Closest one is at your twelve o’clock, twenty miles, high. He got one of our ’Hawks.”