Mykhailo's charge into the Jastrebs sent them scattering like a flock of frightened birds before the falcon that was his F-16's namesake. His attacks hit true; the plane chased by the AIM-9 heading a plume of thick, white smoke that corkscrewed across the blue sky valiantly pulled into a steep banking turn, straining to out-turn the heat-seeking missile, the little jet shuddered as it's engine howled; but the dart-like shape of the AAM smashed into the plane where the starboard wing met the fuselage, the dirty cloud of flame from the explosion severing the wing and sending the rest of its' carcass into a tumbling somersault, shedding debris as it fell from the sky. 
The second one persecuted by the young pilot frantically wove to and fro, throwing itself into violent manoeuvres as the F-16's 20mm Vulcan cannon spewed hotdog-sized shells at the plane. A string of rounds slashed across the planes' fuselage, and it belched and billowed smoke, immediately losing speed and starting to shudder. The pilot turned away from their original course immediately, reversing and trying to withdraw from the battle, and losing altitude with each passing moment; until the canopy blew away, and both ejection seats fired. 
The final one of the three small planes was going hell-for-leather at low altitude, having used the chaos of his wingmen trying to avoid the hunting F-16's the last one of the jets closed in on the convoy, frantically moving into a desperate attack position.

Meanwhile, Valkyrie's flight were fully engaged with the patrol boats. The six vessels had split up from their V formation as soon as Valk and Rook pressed their attack. Freyja's strategy was sound; the boats were already at a disadvantage, and with the planes diving in on them from both sides, they couldn't counter as effectively. 
The gripen's RBS-15 Anti-ship missile turned the targeted boat into a ball of greasy fire as it impacted, the warhead much more than enough to blast the comparatively small craft to splinters, a shockwave blasting out across the water as it detonated. 
On the opposite side, Ilya's Yak-141 let fly with a brace of Kh-25 missiles. The boats swerved and tried to avoid the inbound short-range missiles, but it was a forgone conclusion as the missiles impacted; one caught the superstructure of the first boat and left the hull a flaming wreck that continued on, guideless and under its' own momentum. 
The second missile plowed into the hull of the second boat at the waterline amidships. The explosion almost seemed to rudely shove the vessel sideways in place with a lurch. As it crashed and bounced across the waves, water gushed in as smoke gushed out, and it started to list, slowing down and tipping to one side with increasing speed. Not long after, people starting jumping over the side, the fire from the stricken vessel immediately dropping off. 
In moments, their numbers had been halved - but they weren't out of action yet. 
As Rook's Yak-141 pulled up in an elegant, smooth climbing bank to break off, a warning sounded in his cockpit. Hydraulic pressure in the airframe dropped away sharply; and Ilya found himself fighting his controls, struggling to keep the jet in the air and get any response from the controls.
"This is Cobalt 8, I've lost al-"
The transmission cut off with a burst of static as a shoulder-fired Igla missile from one of the boats slammed into the belly of the Yak-141, and it exploded into a shower of debris and flame.

Scott's Super Tomcat was thoroughly engaged in a knife-fight with the L-59's. The big, swing-wing interceptor dwarfed the the lighter planes; it was like a condor hunting sparrows. It was a strangely uneven battle; the ASF-14 had power with its' two, huge engines and its' advanced avionics, but the L-59's small size and lighter weight made them nimble and mobile. 
Nonetheless, Scott and Kat had experience and skill on their side as well as the advanced tech of their plane. 
Scott hauled the big jet into as tight a turn as he could manage; popping flares as the howling tones of a hostile lock-on sounded. 
The big swing-wing jet went inverted as Scott pulled them over and round, and a successful lock-on to one of the smaller planes sounded, as he framed the jet in his helmet-mounted sight. The growling, warbling tone filled his ears and he squeezed the trigger.
"Cobalt one, Fox Two!" 
The missile flew true, and despite an impress show of flying, the L-59 went down in a cloud of smoke and flame. He changed course immediately after the launch, the jets' wings sweeping forward and out for more lift and agility as he turned sharply, hauling the nose around. The L-59 on his tail overshot, going wide past them as he hauled the nose around to follow the third of the trio, bringing the jet sharply around at close range.
"Too close for missiles; going to guns"
"Roger, I'll keep an eye on our tail," Kat called back in a voice strained by the G's that pressed her into her seat. 
The gunsight pipper danced across Scott's vision, and the sandy-haired pilot jockeyed the pedals and stick to get the sight into the right place for a shot, rewarded as it turned green. A squeeze of the trigger and the plane hummed with as the multi-barrelled Vulcan spat out a string of 20mm armour-piercing incendiaries that stitched a line along the side of the Albatros. Smoke billowed, and the plane seemed to continue on straight for a moment, before it almost lazily rolled over on one side, before the canopy burst away, and the crew launched away on plumes of fire. 
The fluttering, straining through the airframe that had been felt earlier had got worse and worse through each movement of the dogfight, the vibration getting so bad in their last turn that they'd both got double vision. As Scott rolled the plane out once more, there was a sharp [b]BANG[/b] and warnings sounded through the cockpit, 'bitching betty' calmly relaying a litany of problems. 
"What the hell was-"
"-Engine is on fire, we're losing pressure!" 
Scott and Kat tried to speak at the same time hurriedly as they struggled to bring their wounded plane back under control. In the same instant, the warning for a hostile lock-on sounded as the remaining hostile plane closed in behind them. 

[@Letter Bee], [@Damo021]