[b]In the skies above Lampedusa[/b]

The ferry had no chance to avoid the SLAM-ER. Anchored and at rest, and with none of the defences a military vessel might have, it had no means to escape the hit. Missile pierced the side of the ship just above the waterline, the kinetic energy of the heavy missile punching it through the unarmoured hull, before the 500-pound blast fragmentation warhead detonated inside the ship, tearing through decks, walls and bulkheads, and igniting anything flammable within reach. The blast heaved the ship sideways and rocked it off axis, and rolling back put the gaping tear in the hull under the waterline, instantly starting to flood the ship. The explosion shattered glass in windows around the harbor, sending people running for cover. All too late, air defences started to search frantically for the source of the missile, as personnel threw themselves to cover at the worry of any follow-on attacks. 

Over the airport, the Mirage F1's rose, climbing rapidly to meet the intruding Shattered Steel planes. As they grew closer, it became easier to pick them out to the pair. They didn't wear the same camouflage as the other planes sighted, nor the same Libyan national insignia either. Instead, they were coloured in two-tone grey splinter camouflage on their upper surfaces and dark grey-black on their undersides, their logos hard to see in low-viz grey. 
Chevy's shot was a good one, pulling the trigger as the first of the pair rose put them already on the defensive, and when they had little room and power to manoeuvre at that. Desperately, the pilot triggered countermeasures, a spread of cloud-white trails arcing out as flares burst across the skies. He hauled over on the stick, trying desperately to avoid and risking rolling the jet into a spin as the missile closed in. The Mica's proximity fuse detonated, and it tore up the starboard side of the jet, leaving ragged tears in the aluminium skin and structure below. As the pilot hauled into the turn, the strain on the damaged areas grew, and the wing buckled in half, at the same instant as the engine inhaled chunks of debris from the damaged intake. The pilot punched out as the doomed jet turned on it's back and began to tumble and spiral through the air, trailing flame and smoke.

The wingman rose, cautious of the hunting planes now that his leader had gone down. He was more canny, and instead of climbing straight up, they extended; going shallower and flatter and hugging ground cover to attempt to scatter radar signals, before pulling into steep, sharp banks to lose the visual against the surface of the sea and the island below, before ascending as the dark shape of Fuka's Superhornet flashed by. The F/A-18 had more power with its' twin engines, but it was heavier and the Mirage F1's pilot used that to their advantage, turning inside the bigger, heavier carrier jets' circle as they sought for a lock-on, and were rewarded as the recticle in their HUD turned red and the buzzing growl of a positive tone sounded, and a Mica leapt off the wingtip rail to scythe through the air toward the gleaming black F/A-18 

[@Smike], [@Kensai]