364 its a cream filled world
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Deja Vu AscendancyChapter 364: God's Servant Lands Some More Punches free porn video
Wednesday, June 6, 2007 (Continued)
Next on the itinerary was Fairchild AFB, about two hundred miles north. According to Wikipedia, home of KC-135s and some Huey helicopters.
Soon after I left Mountain Home, on my way to Fairchild, I picked up two high flying radars ahead of me. Judging by the weakness of their signals, they were a long way away, but the signals were slowly getting 'brighter' in my vision-mapped detection system. They were on the same band as the F-15Es behind me had used. It was a commonly used band, but there were fifteen Mountain Home F-15Es unaccounted for so maybe these were two of them.
I decided it would impress the authorities more if I intercepted these two, plus I didn't want fighters flying around in the same airspace as me. I put the helmet back on, adjusted the sheet so it also blocked infrared sight from the direction the radars were coming from, and headed straight up, putting an airtight silo around myself when I got to about 5,000 feet.
I thought about dogfight issues while I climbed. There were a number of factors that seemed important to me:
Detection systems. This was probably going to decide the battle, as they should never see me while I already knew the direction they were coming from. I wouldn't be able to tell their exact distance until I saw them, but that didn't matter much. Even if they turned their radar off and I lost sight of them, a max-sized radio blob would allow me to see them well before they saw me. Provided I was careful with how I positioned the sheet, my ability to detect them was a great deal better than their ability to detect me.
Speed. Their top speed was Mach 2.5, three times faster than mine. They could easily get away from me and stop me getting away from them. If they were flying supersonically now, I'd have to act very quickly before they were out of range.
Maneuverability. I was ALL over them for this. I knew enough about how planes flew to know that for a sustained maneuvering duel, power-to-weight ratio was a critical issue. All modern fighters have ratio of about 1.0; maybe as high as 1.3. I had 88! Sure they could pull high-g turns, but they did that by increasing wind resistance on one side of the plane, which slowed it down. Every time they turned, they traded away speed. With their low power-to-weight ratio, it'd take them a long time to rebuild that speed. After a few 'jiggles', they'd be going so slow that they'd be lame ducks compared to me. I could 'jiggle' all day long, and then accelerate after them far more rapidly than they could accelerate away. I'm particularly good at accelerating upward, whereas they can barely do it.
Weapons. My best defense against their weapons would be to fool them into firing at the Guardian Angel(s) rather than my much harder to see physical body. Guardian Angels could move DAMNED fast, so they'd be a hellishly hard target to hit. That should keep the pilots busy for quite a while, until I lured them into passing within five hundred feet of me. Assuming they actually fired at my body, then missiles and bullets would be the worries (bombs, not so much). Self-guided missiles shouldn't be much of a threat as radar-guided missiles would wonder what to do, and heat-seekers could be led around by the nose by heat blobs; which would be invisible to the pilot's eyes, to further confuse him. Missiles that the pilots could guide, maybe by putting a laser designator on me, would be more serious, but I could jiggle like crazy. I could also hide behind a huge area of max-sized light blobs, like I had for the sniper that had shot Ava. Jiggling and hiding is what I'd have to do versus cannon fire too. In short, they'd have trouble taking me out with their weapons. On the other hand, my 'weapon' was only a short range one, but if they got within 450 feet of me, it'd be all over.
It'd be a very interesting duel, but my money would be on me, especially in an ambush situation like this.
[[A point of explanation: The Blinks Allowed Effect means I could look away for up to thirty two seconds and NP-fingertips and blobs would not self-cancel provided they remained within my maximum range. I could send NP-fingertips out beyond my 500-foot limit, and the Effect allowed them to coast along for the next thirty two seconds before they self-canceled. That wasn't the case with blobs; they self-canceled the moment they got out of range. NP is a physical force that persisted after it got out of range, like a stone continues to exist after its thrown beyond five hundred feet. Blobs had no physical presence; they were maintained by my mentally interacting with the Universe at the desired location, which I couldn't do beyond five hundred feet. That, unfortunately, meant I couldn't send a Guardian Angel flying away from me at Mach 3.0 to have the planes chase after it. Nor could I 'fire' Mach 50 max-heat blobs toward the planes from miles away, which was a pity. That also would've made destroying air bases far easier and safer. Firing NP-propelled, long-distance missiles didn't work because beyond five hundred feet gravity exerted its influence and air resistance would slow them down and blow them off course, because I couldn't apply any corrective force.]]
I rose to 50,000 feet before the radar beams were coming at me horizontally. I lay down with my feet toward the radar sources, moving the sheet to cover that direction. I flew myself to be where I judged directly in front of the planes to be, although that was a bit of a guess so far. I also raised myself another 2,000 feet, and had a max-sized radio blob about three hundred feet above me and closer to them, to see them more easily when they approached.
I adjusted my position as my opinion of their flight path changed.
Five minutes later, my radio blob saw them, as clear as day. That made it easy to get myself lined up nicely. I started accelerating in the same direction they were flying, like the receiver in a baton-passing relay race. I didn't want to get up to even half their speed as that'd give them too much time to see me. I just wanted to have some speed on to give me more time to find where their ejection handles were.
I heard them coming, which confirmed they weren't supersonic. Had they been, I would've squeezed their fuel lines instead since I've heard somewhere that ejecting at supersonic speeds is REALLY bad for pilots.
I sped up to about 300 mph, angling down at a good angle to be just a little slow for a collision, so they'd undertake me. I carefully watched them get closer and closer, waiting to see it they reacted to my presence. My being in front of them made it very easy to imagine that they'd spot me even with my feet-first attitude and sheet in place. If they did react, I was ready with some VERY bright, high speed, and highly distracting lighting effects designed to herd them back toward me, but they weren't necessary; the pilots never saw a thing - I pulled all four ejection handles simultaneously.
#12:
One of me, that wasn't otherwise busy high-fiving himself, grabbed the planes' sticks, pulling back to make them climb steeply, then centering them again, making it easier for me to accelerate upward after them. If they flew above my range, I'd keep climbing until I caught them, as they'd slow down and stall soon. Going up also put me above the pilots, making it impossible for them to see me once their chutes deployed, not that I thought they had much chance of seeing me anyway. By the time they recovered from the shock of the ejection, and their world stopped tumbling around, I'd be a tiny dot.
I accelerated upward, braking my horizontal movement so the airmen would fly forward away from me.
The planes easily climbed out of my 500-foot range, but they were slowing down and I was accelerating, so I narrowed the gap quickly. They hadn't gone up in a tidy formation and were separating from each other, and one of them was spinning too. They were out of control, especially because the open cockpits had to be producing some messy drag.
I got within range of one plane, grabbed its stick, and tried to steer it closer to the other one, but flying one of these things was a hell of a lot trickier than flying my little two-seater training plane. I can't write, "I was all over the sky" because there hadn't been enough time for that yet, but I was working on it.
I was still struggling with the stick, when another of my minds suggested we 'manhandle' the whole damned thing. I grabbed hold of it with a great deal of NP, stabilized its spin and got it pointing in the right direction. It weighed more than I could lift, but it only required a fraction of my total force to push it around. I didn't bother with the stick, instead steering and pushing it with brute force as it caught up with the other one.
The other plane also required some manhandling to get stabilized, and then I pushed both sticks forward to put them into a shallow dive in the direction of the next base. It took a few adjustments (mostly the brute force way), but I eventually got them partnered and semi-stable; the open cockpits presumably the cause of the bouncing around they were still doing.
I would've LOVED to put a Guardian Angel in each front seat and fly it around the descending pilots, and maybe even buzz the next base with them. That'd be a superb distraction for my next attack. Unfortunately for that fantasy, the Guardian Angels would self-cancel five hundred feet from me, along with all my ability to control the planes. The planes' tightest turning circles were probably more than a thousand feet wide, and that'd be with a pilot who knew what he was doing. The only thing I was going to do with these planes was hold them in a controlled descent so I could crash them somewhere harmless (except for the planes).
There were no other radars currently emitting that I needed to worry about, only the very long range, metal-detecting emissions that the air is permanently full of, but I didn't want to be nursemaiding these planes for long so I made their descents steeper. If they got too fast for me, I could lift their noses for a little while.
On the way down I fiddled with one of the backseat controls to find out how to use it, so I could find out how good the infrared vision is. It took about 20,000 feet of altitude, but I found a way to display the infrared vision on one of the two screens.
I flew four hundred feet ahead of that plane and looked at its screen. With the sheet in place and my feet pointing at the plane, I couldn't be seen. With the sheet removed there was a faint smudge. I enlarged the sled so it could continue to fly directly ahead stably, while I turned my body sideways on it. The image that formed would have alerted the pilots. Taking my helmet off and facing the plane was even more noticeable. I was only four hundred feet away and the obvious human shape shouldn't be so bad at more usual ranges, but it was still scary how much I stood out. I kept my body position and interposed the sheet, seeing that it hid me very well again even without my wearing the helmet. I put it back on anyway. First chance I get, I'm going to buy something dark and sheet-like that folds up tightly, to carry around with me on these types of missions.
#23:
Locating the IR camera was simply a matter of creating a small heat blob near me and keeping it centered on the screen as I moved it toward the plane until it was right in front of the camera. Then we searched the cabling from the camera back through the plane. It merged into other things, but it wasn't that hard to find a cable that ran into a small, very strongly constructed box containing electronic chips. We removed that box from the plane, opened it up, and scattered very small pieces of chips across the countryside. I did the same to the other plane just in case its camera had got a shot of me during the struggle I'd had to get control of these things.
The planes and I descended to 8,000 feet and leveled off. I didn't bother increasing their throttles, just pushed them harder and somewhat upward with more NP-points, as I could control those precisely. We flew with me looking for a suitable crash site. The terrain under me was very hilly with lots of forest. At this time of year, forest was definitely not a good place to crash two high-explosive jet fighters. I kept heading west looking for a suitable spot.
I was getting worried how long it was taking, because if any other plane came to investigate, they'd be eyeballing the two empty planes carefully, and they might see me flying nearby.
I finally found a small lake. More like a temporary widening of a mountain river, but it'd do. It wouldn't burn and there were no humans or houses in it, as could be the case with the forest. I steered the planes in an arc so they could get into a good position for a side-by-side dive into the lake. I got them oriented properly with their wings lining up with the long axis of the lake, tilted their noses down, and guided them all the way down.
Their dual impact splashed a HELL of a lot of the water out of the lake, damned near emptying it, but it rapidly refilled. Wreckage had broken off and scattered all over the place, but none of it ignited, saving me from having to scoop up tons of water to dump on any fires. It would've been a lot less trouble if I'd cut the fuel instead of ejecting the pilots, but I wanted the Guardian Angel's destruction to be total. I wanted: Shock, Awe, Respect and Terror. Plus some Big-Titted Girls please, that being something to think about for the next settlement agreement.
I headed west again. I was a little confused about where I was, as the little dogfight and subsequent struggle to recover and control the two planes had made me lose my bearings somewhat because I'd stopped keeping track of my sense of direction. When I saw the lights of a town in the distance I angled toward it, read signs to find its name, then searched through cars parked in out of the way places to find one with a map. I found where I was, where Fairchild was, got a new compass heading, and headed that way.
I'd just got up to speed when two more radars lit up ahead of me. Two more of the missing F-15Es, presumably.
The ambush had worked before, and after my experiments with the plane's infrared sensor, I had even more confidence in the wonderful effectiveness of my $5 sheet versus $100 million worth of fighters. Plus I knew where a suitable lake was to put my soon-to-be-acquired toys after I hijacked them. I climbed rapidly.
A few seconds later I could tell that the new radar sources were heading to the previous planes' graveyard, no doubt to find out what had happened to them.
Long story short: a few minutes later, there were four planes in that little lake.
#5:
^
When I finally managed to get close to Fairchild, I saw two more F-15Es flying a circuit over it. It would've been rude to exclude them from the fun, and they were flying circuits in a neat formation, which made it SO easy. I didn't want to waste time trying to control the two planes, and I couldn't let them fall to earth themselves as there were many houses in this area, so I crimped their fuel lines. I'd let the pilots glide them down for me, then I'd destroy them on the ground.
There were no fighter aircraft at Fairchild, just a couple dozen KC-135s and a few helicopters. It looked like the order had gone out to evacuate the base, because everything that could get into the air was lining up to do so as fast as possible. The first few of the choppers were already rising into the air and the others weren't far behind joining them with pilots and ground crew running flat out to get that done.
I had a bright Guardian Angel rise from the tarmac at one end of the helicopter area and fly along its length while I followed it a few hundred feet above pulling fuel lines out of their sockets. One after the other all the chopper engines died. Those in the air already weren't for much longer, returning to the ground fairly quickly after their engines died. Quite roughly in a few cases, but I'd been confident that none of the landings would be so hard as to injure anyone. The impacts might be hard enough to damage a few of the choppers, but that wasn't going to matter in a few minutes.
The first KC was just starting to lumber down the runway, with the rest lined up behind it like a lumbering line of elephants. The Guardian Angel accelerated across the airfield to intercept the leading KC. The angel slowed down when it neared its destination, flying into the middle of the first plane's large cockpit by passing through the glass and pilot at a speed slow enough that the crew could see it happening. I imagine that'd give them nightmares, especially the pilot, and the story will scare the shit out of everyone that hears it.
I used several tons of force to push the cockpit's instruments and controls out of the sides and front of the aircraft. There wasn't even a yoke left for the pilot to hold. They were left sitting in their seats with the front and sides of the cockpit missing and the breeze blowing straight in. A second later, the roof was missing too. I held the three crewmen firmly, unbuckled their harnesses, and lifted them out; placing them a hundred feet away while I was slicing, dicing and then burning their ex-aircraft.
The other KCs were lined up going nowhere, blocked by the burning wreck. They weren't the sort of aircraft that could make a quick cross-country getaway, but they tried. The Guardian Angel flew from cockpit to cockpit, quickly repeating what it'd done to the first plane. There were only twenty four KCs, and it only took a few seconds to destroy each cockpit, so the most successful evaders only managed to get about twenty yards cross-country. Sadly for them, that was much shorter than their minimum takeoff distance.
Soon there was a VERY big bonfire going because they'd been quite close to each other and chopped up airborne tankers burn REALLY well.
There were the usual fire trucks, which suffered the usual fate. And when the last KC was alight, the buildings, helicopters and any Air Force cars and trucks got dealt with in the usual way too. It was just business as usual. The base didn't have much in the way of aggressive attack options, only small arms, which did the usual damage to the angel. Wiping out Fairchild AFB had been quick and easy.
^
Last on the night's itinerary was McChord AFB, about two hundred miles west. Dad's parents' lived in Seattle, only thirty miles north of McChord, but popping in for a visit after destroying the base probably wouldn't be a good idea.
McChord is home to quite a few C-17 Globemaster IIIs. At $250 million each, it was going to be an expensive visit.
Or not, because when I arrived there wasn't a plane to be seen, not even any F-15s on patrol.
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