"Self Sacrifice"
Cobra Air Defense Coordination Center, Baghdad
"Cobra Commander!" one of the Tele-Vipers in the radar command center shouted. "We have a single, low-flying aircraft, approaching at high velocity from the American-occupied zone!"
"Report the estimated course, Snakeling!" Cobra Commander replied sharply.
"It's coming right for us, Commander!"
Cobra Commander stepped down from his dais and looked over the radar operator's display. A worried expression crossed his face under his azure blue hood. "Condition One! Sound air raid alarms throughout the district and man up all ASP defense batteries!"
"Yes, sir, Commander," the Tele-Viper replied. "Shall I challenge the aircraft?"
"What do you think, you dolt?" the Commander bellowed. "Challenge it with our firepower!"
***
Explosions began to burst around the nose of an aging Sky Striker XP-14F fighter, as blasts from the closest ASP 40mm gun batteries attempted to score a hit on the jinking combat airplane.
The hands at the jet's controls made split-second, fluid movements, timed to offset the response time of the older fly-by-wire systems of the Sky Striker. Under the pilot's flight helmet, the radio ear pieces crackled to life.
"Blackout, do you read? This is Duke on Guard channel. Blackout, respond!"
Blackout, the ex-Joe recruit turned Cobra sniper, shifted in his seat, watching the navigation cues on the fighter's cockpit HUD. A target marker lit up when he was twenty miles from the Cobra air defense center. He struggled to keep the jet flying straight and level as the ASP gunners on the ground bracketed the stolen fighter in their deadly fire.
"Blackout, this is Duke! Turn back! Bring that Sky Striker to base, son! You don't have to do this!"
Blackout thumbed the transmit switch for his onboard radio. "Duke, this is Blackout. I have to do this. I betrayed my country by joining Cobra. I betrayed my family. My brother and sister both almost got killed because they came to Baghdad to bring me home. I can't atone for my betrayals."
"But you can, kid. You're young. You still have time to lick your wounds and change your life. You can still be a credit to your country, like we first thought when you volunteered for Joe training."
"I can't change anymore, Duke," Blackout said sadly. "I can't escape what I am - a traitor."
"I don't fuckin' believe that, soldier! Bring that fighter home! I won't promise that you don't have to answer for what you've done, but we'll consider what you're doing now. Don't waste your life because you're more afraid of jail!"
"I'm sorry, Duke," Blackout said, "for everything. Tell Dwight and Alyssa that I'm sorry..."
Blackout keyed off the radio, as the tall signal towers on the roof of the Cobra communications center came into view above the Baghdad skyline. A near hit from an Iraqi ZSU-30-6 rattled his plane's starboard wing. His right thumb flicked the Master Arm switch on the Sky Striker's joystick.
***
"Status report!" Cobra Commander bellowed. "Where the fuck is this intruder?"
"He's inside our inner defense envelope and less than ten miles from the city center, Commander! The bandit was positively identified by several defense batteries as a G. I. Joe Sky Striker!"
"Deploy every available Viper onto the nearby rooftops with SA-7 missiles! I want that American blown out of the sky before he kills us all!"
Cobra Commander walked to the rear of the command center, pressing the elevator call button for an express car that ran to the building's emergency underground bunker. He tapped his foot impatiently, as the car started its trip up the shaft from the bunker level.
***
"Blackout, you damn fool!" Barrel Roll shouted into the radio, as he watched the satellite tracking video from an orbiting KH-13 Keyhole. The real-time feed showed the mass of fire enveloping the stolen Sky Striker and Blackout's every jink and move.
He was already over the outer suburbs of Baghdad, as the interlocked neighborhoods of streets and apartment blocks began passing below the speeding fighter.
Barrel Roll's younger sister, Bombstrike, wrapped her arms around her brother and began to sob softly. Duke rested a hand on each of their shoulders.
"We have to get him to turn back!" Specialist Alyssa Stall cried. "He's still a good man! It's suicide to try to keep going!"
"Hang tough, you two," Duke said. "There's still a chance. If he punches out, the CIA cell in Baghdad can try to find him and smuggle him out to our front lines."
"That's only if he decides he wants to punch out," Barrel Roll said.
***
The three Joes watched the satellite feed intently.
A brace of 40mm rounds stitched across the Sky Striker's port engine, and smoke began to pour out of it, causing the plane to lose trim.
The Joes knew that Blackout would have the fight of his life just to keep the fighter aloft and level, if he was to have a chance of punching out.
He would have to eject up and away from the plane so that the ground fire wouldn't catch him, or that his ejection seat wouldn't slam him into a tall building at more than nine hundred feet per second.
The Sky Striker's wings began to waggle, as the enemy defensive fire became more accurate. White streaks from SA-7 missile engines lanced up from rooftops all over the high-security sector of Baghdad, the Strela warheads blasting and shaking the fighter to pieces.
The fighter's nose dipped, and everyone watching the video feed feared the worst. Blackout must've bought it trying to keep the plane level. It began to yaw and then dropped toward the Cobra air defense command center's twin, three hundred foot tall radio towers.
Thickening smoke began to obscure the images on the screen, as the surveillance satellite's optical system tried to keep tracking the Sky Striker's descent. Even through the surrounding haze, the impact was no less terrible to watch.
A bright flash nearly whited out the light-adjusting optical lens of the tightly focused camera. Metallic debris and large chunks of masonry were thrown about as the Sky Striker smashed into the command center towers and then plunged through the upper rooftop.
"Oh, my God!" Bombstrike gasped, tearing her eyes away from the video screen and burying her face into her brother's arm. "No!"
"He had a chance to come back," Duke said. "He made his choices, and decided how to take responsibility for them."
Blackout's last words echoed loudly in Duke's ears as he watched the unfolding conflagration from the crash of the fighter. "I can't change anymore, Duke. I can't escape what I am - a traitor.
"I'm sorry, Duke, for everything. Tell Dwight and Alyssa that I'm sorry..."