"They still are not acknowledging," Tanzan Mino said grimly. "We don't know their exact vector, but they will have to gain altitude soon. When they do . . ." He turned to General Sokolov. "Radio Dolinsk and confirm the order."
This was the moment Valentin Sokolov had been dreading. The AA-9 missile, which was carried on the MiG 31’s recessed underfuselage stations, came in two versions: the active radar homing model and the heat-seeking infrared design. He suspected that Daedalus had enough Stealth and ECM capabilities to partially defeat radar, but Stealth couldn't mask IR.
Sooner or later, Androv would have to make his move, come off the deck. And when he did, the MiGs would pick him up and it would be over.
But that was still preferable to letting Daedalus fall into the hands of the Americans. So if Androv refused to answer his radio and comply with the call-back, there'd be no choice.
"What do you mean?" Androv asked, wiping at his brow.
Vance took a deep breath. "We've got no choice. You know what I'm thinking."
"We'll need ten G's of acceleration to power in the scramjets, my friend." He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. His face was now drawn with pain, but the bleeding had stopped. Above them, Petra silently flew the plane and flashed messages on the screens. "I've trained for years," he continued finally. "Even with your inflatable G-suit, you couldn't possibly take the G-loads and stay conscious."