Keith positioned the crew ladder next to the plane as the rest of the fitters cleared out. There was no saluting or formality as the dust covers were removed and chocks pulled. Lonnie turned back from the top rung and watched the others taking off observing who was carrying what armaments- noticing both the A-6 and the F-16 carried bombs. There hadn’t been any mention of ground forces in the briefing. He looked down at Xi who shook his head. They both heard the MiG-23 take off from the old dirt strip but couldn’t get a look at what he was carrying from inside their hangar. He glanced back briefly at his own payload before stepping into the front seat. Two short range, R-73 Archers hung under each wing while the belly carried four of the long range R-33, each one a little over a quarter length of a telephone pole. He rarely carried the medium range option. The ‘Rill were usually too fast for them and he much preferred mixing it up with them.

The preflight checks were a matter of complete muscle-memory for the pair and once completed Lonnie released the parking brake as Keith guided them out of the hangar. The MiG’s characteristic howl from its broad engine outlets was unmistakable. Lonnie had never owned a fast car in his youth but as he taxied down the ramp the plane drew steady glances. He reckoned it to be something similar to what he’d seen in a few western movies. The MiG underneath him wasn’t designed as a pure fighter, but to Lonnie it was everything a fighter should be: big, fast, loud, and its only function was to shoot down other aircraft, none of that “multirole” business. The radar could target the Yerrill high-speed scouts while the massive engines gave him more than enough power to run down fighters.  

“Don’t remember hearing any callsign for a tanker.” Xi said matter-of-factly.

“Yanks could have brought us some bloody gas upstairs instead of those damnfool bombs.” Lonnie said.

“It’s just their nature.” Xi replied. He shuffled through a few of the base frequencies listening to the various goings-on. Somewhere a backhoe had wrapped up a few feet of unmarked and hastily buried fiber-optic cable. Elsewhere a pallet of goods that were going back through the portal had apparently collapsed and would have to be restacked. It was all surprisingly normal for a base only just previously became operational on an [i]alien world[/i]. 

“Get us an unrestricted climb to 350.” Lonnie said. He was watching a C-17 on final that the controllers were working in before them as they taxied downwind. In the distance he could see another one behind it. “We’ll take Clembo up there with us. We don’t have the gas for formation flying with these bug-smashers.” 

Xi put the request through and got an immediate affirmative as the transport pulled off and Lonnie nosed on to the numbers and lined up. “Ranger Three to Lead,” He said switching to the squad band. “We’re cleared for unrestricted climbout to FL350, we’ll take Ranger Five with us and head upstairs for the CAP.” It was a sensible request and he figured the Mig-23 likely had the only radar system with which their ship could communicate directly without need for the AWACS and it would be wasteful for the CO to keep his two fastest assets burning Kerosene in a low altitude holding pattern.

They were blazing towards V1 when Lonnie briefly glanced over to see the camouflaged Draken still sitting in the same place. He eased back on the column when Xi called for rotation and as was his custom pulled the gear up when the wheels were scantly off the runway- it just spoiled the look of the thing.  He kept straight on the runway heading momentarily before increasing his hold on the controls. The MiG bit into the command and arced skyward in a trail of orange flame and rich exhaust.