The situation in Siria is very complex.

This is the first time since the start of the civil war that air force formations from two different camps have confronted each other head-on in the sky.

Brigadier General Hudson remembered clearly that the Russian Aerospace Forces had never been so bold before, daring to issue such intense and stern warnings to his Air Force planes within his own no-fly zone.

Are these Russians crazy?!

FUCK!

Aren't they afraid of a misfire that could ignite a war!

Where do they get the confidence to provoke the world's only superpower with an incredibly powerful air force?

Hudson felt a strong impulse to start a fight, but as a professional soldier, a base commander, he knew the standard procedure for handling such situations.

Don't be impulsive.

Still, follow protocol and request instructions.

Otherwise, big trouble will happen.

"Yes, I fully understand the seriousness of the situation and the possible strategic-level chain reactions that it could trigger! The other side is extremely tough, leaving no room for negotiation... We request the highest levels of decision-making instructions! Should authorization be granted for 'Poison Snake' formation to engage in self-defense combat? I repeat, request engagement authorization (ROE)!"

The desire to fight had already seeped out from his voice, transmitted through the airwaves to the Pentagon.

However, from the other end of the call, there was no immediate response from deep inside the Pentagon, but rather, it fell into a brief, suffocating silence.

This silence, in the oppressive background noise within the CAOC, seemed to be infinitely stretched, as long as a century, as if a thousand-pound lead block weighed on the heart of everyone in the command center, making it almost hard to breathe.

The tiny movements on every cursor on the screen, the faint buzz of electric noise in the headphones, tugged at the taut nerves of everyone.

They all knew that the decision made by the Pentagon at this moment concerned not only those two pilots in the air and four multi-million-dollar fighter jets but also possibly shifted the balance of national strategy, even...

Could be a fragile and dangerous trigger for a world war.

A few seconds later, new instructions finally came through the encrypted phone.

Brigadier General Hudson listened to the superior's instructions with a grim face, then took a deep breath and conveyed the Pentagon's orders through the handset to the 'Poison Snake' formation far above Latamira:

"'Poison Snake 1-1', CAOC final instruction: Maintain the highest level of alert, strictly prohibited from firing first! Repeat, strictly prohibited from firing first! But maintain a deterrent posture, absolutely do not actively disengage! All necessary tactical maneuvers for evasion are allowed to ensure self-safety. All units, wait for the urgent communication results at the political and diplomatic levels! Over!"

"'Poison Snake 1-1' understands! Maintain alert, temporarily do not fire!"

Major Mitchell took a deep breath, trying to suppress the violent heartbeats thumping like a drum in his chest.

He clearly felt the dilemma behind this order—to uphold the presence and dignity of the US Army while avoiding igniting the fuse of a full-blown conflict.

He pushed the control stick, and the heavy F-15E began to perform slight defensive snake maneuvers. At the same time, he switched to that explosive international emergency channel, trying to maintain the last shred of conversation, his voice calm and firm:

"Russian Aerospace Forces 'Scythe' formation, this is U.S. Air Force 'Poison Snake' formation Major Mitchell. You have intruded into our designated no-fly zone. We are conducting a legitimate military mission in international airspace under UN authorization and our headquarters' approval, targeting confirmed terrorist objectives. Your fire-control radar lock behavior is extremely dangerous and provocative, contrary to international norms. I request you immediately disable fire-control radar illumination to avoid catastrophic tactical misjudgment!"

The channel was silent for a moment, with only the hiss of electric current.

Soon, that Slavic accent sounded again.

This time, more noticeably impatient and with a hint of undisguised mockery:

"U.S. Air Force Major Mitchell."

The Russian lead pilot's voice sounded as if it had just been taken from the freezer.

"Save your spiel about 'terrorists'. Beneath this sky, we are here as counter-terrorism partners invited by the local government. Your so-called 'confirmed targets' are our collaborators. I'm saying for the last time—turn around and leave! My finger is just on the missile launch button, and its patience is far less than mine. You have thirty seconds to decide. Timing starts."

This ultimatum sounded like the tolling of a death knell.

"Damn these Russians! These damn, reckless polar bears! They're just looking for excuses! They want to start a war!"

"In the cockpit of 'Poison Snake 1-2', the young pilot could no longer suppress his flaming anger and fear, cursing on the internal encrypted channel.

"Major, let's hit them. We're covered by our ground defense network here, even if they can shoot us down, they can't escape! Damn Russians are just intimidating us!"

Inside the No. 1 lead plane cockpit, sweat had soaked through Major Mitchell's flight suit lining, the cold touch constantly reminding him of the desperate situation.

His wingman is a young guy; he truly doesn't understand the gravity of this situation.

"Shut up, 1-2! Maintain formation, watch your six! They're using psychological tactics, possibly trying to find an opportunity to divide us!"

He yelled sternly, trying to stabilize the wingman's emotions, but his own right hand gripping the control stick trembled slightly.

Because he didn't know whether the Russians would also be able to restrain themselves.

Now with both sides confronting each other, the ground attack mission might be aborted.

It seems the Russians were well prepared; our intelligence didn't keep up. Otherwise, we could have called in F-35s or F-16s from Baghdad, which would have been more threatening than this ground-target-set formation.

Soon, the confrontation between the two formations in the sky entered a more dangerous phase.

Four Su-35S had already approached near the 'Poison Snake' formation. The Russians, with their excellent maneuverability and powerful engine thrust, started more aggressive tactical positioning.

They sometimes used altitude advantages to dive and probe, sometimes using a two-plane formation to perform cross maneuvers, trying to disrupt the 'Poison Snake' formation's defensive rhythm and find the best angle for radar lock and missile attack.

Although the F-15E 'Strike Eagle' is slightly inferior to the latest Su-35S in some aspects, relying on the pilots' superb skills and the aircraft's excellent energy characteristics, Mitchell commanded it to continue intense evasion maneuvers, sharp turns, climbs, and dives, striving to evade any firing solutions the opponent might establish.

The radar warning buzzer sometimes was sharp and piercing, indicating extreme danger of being steadily locked; other times, it became low and intermittent, representing temporary lock disengagement or the opponent switching to search mode.

This sound was like a nerve-wracking demonic hum, tugging at every near-breaking nerve inside the cockpit.

In the thin and cold air, thick ionized vibes and invisible gunpowder smoke permeated, as if it only required a single insignificant spark, a minor misjudgment, to completely ignite this originally serene sky.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com