There was a couple seconds of silence on the cockpit before Kensington's CO came in with orders for him to follow, a smirk forming as he gave a "Yes sir will do." then turned to look over his shoulder at his co-pilot. "You got anything?"
"Unknown contact according to radio chatter is bearing... 230 uhh fast mover." Dane replied, his finger pressing against the wind shield as he pointed out the cockpit towards where the reported air contact was detected. Right then the senior airman rotated the helicopter until it was pointed that direction, the pilots exchanging glanced before Kensington changed to the open frequencies and inhaled before speaking.
"This is senior airman Kensington of the Landren Defense Force hailing the unidentified aircraft approaching area of operation. You are in an active combat zone. Identify yourself immediately, or be subject to defense action."The unknown radar contact - still somewhat intermittent as it was - had dropped altitude, and was now under 1000ft above the ground and dropping further as it slowed, almost directly on course for the newly revealed combatants as they headed for the outskirts of the city.
The large aerial craft was visible now, and was clearly not of Landren, or any other identifiable independent state origin. It's sleek, hi-tech lines also pointed firmly away from the aesthetics and design philosophies of the North. Clearly, it had something in common with the GEARs now moving swiftly through the settlement.
The crew of the vehicle gave no answer to Ken's calls, and kept their machine well clear of the helicopter, neither heading to intercept it, nor locking it up with radar or any other targeting or tracking systems as they proceeded on course, shifting heading and course slightly to make for the open area of a playing field at the edge of the town.The wolf waited for that response, the uneasy silence creating a tense environment in the cockpit. When Kensington had enough of waiting he spoke into his microphone once more."I say again, you are in an active combat zone. Identify yourselves immediately!" This moment the pilot lined the front of the helicopter with the aircraft, keeping it in sight while he contemplated whether making an engagement call or not. "Send one missile to intercept their course of movement."
"One away." Dane replied, the monitor before him showing an image of the distant aircraft with a square painted around the vehicle giving the sign he had a legitimate lock on. He paused, then pressed down on the small red button on his joystick, sending the missile after the target.
The inbound aircraft again made no move to respond to the hails, though didn't drop altitude any lower than the few hundred feet it was above ground, still heading for the cleared area at the edge of town at low speed; while jet propelled, it evidently had some kind of ducted thrust system enabling it to hover quite readily and manoeuver not unlike Ken's helicopter.
However, as soon as the missile was away, the craft span with surprising agility for its' large size and ejected a spread of countermeasures. Jamming flooded the radar, as the craft regained some speed and mobility, its' own radar and other sensors stabbing out for a lock-on on the gunship helicopter as it manoeuvered through the skies. Weapons pods unfolded from concealed positions on the sides of the machine, bristing with dart-like missiles and rocket pods. Kensington watched the trail of the missiles as it flew through the sky towards it's target, waiting for the impact before the aircraft's countermeasures kicked in. When the aircraft changed course the senior airman muttered a curse under his breath and continued to raise the helicopter's altitude, pitching it forward to initiate some form of movement. "Get another one out there. Quick!"
"Can't! Countermeasures are still kicking in we gotta close in five hundred for an accurate shot!"
"What?! Alright adjust eight hundred meters on the cannon and engage we gotta throw something before it can retaliate."
"Roger uhh you see anything out there? Radar's fuckin' up that thing's jamming us!" While Dane asked about additional information the younger pilot was busy trying to keep up with the fast mover, waiting for it to get close enough to use the cannon that was adjusted for an effective range of 800 meters. With elevation on their side he was confident the demand to climb altitude would atleast slow the jet down if not stall it. Then again the skills of this aircraft pilot was unknown.
The hostile aircraft reacted as Ken and Dane moved in, while also adhering to its' mission, the towns' outskirts now below both aircraft, and the battle between the GEARs now clearly visible below and a short distance away. Diverter panels opened up on the aircrafts' body, and engine nozzles swivelled as the large combat transport swivelled virtually on the spot, with a kind of ponderous agility as it hovered over the field below, holding position and altitude. A barbette turret unfolded from below the aircrafts' chin, the multi-barrelled gun swivelling as it sought out the helicopter pressing the attack. A ramp unfolded from the rear section as it hovered like a sleek, angular bird of prey. The attack helicopter pressed on despite the opposing aircraft's preparation for the attack run, both of the pilots coordinating with one another as one relayed information and the other maneuvered the vehicle. With each second passing the numbers on the range finder slowly decreased, inching closer to the effective range for the cannon. That was until Dane spotted the swiveling gun and called it out. "Sir it turret on the front! Can't tell caliber but that thing is not good for our health." Right when Kensington heard the term 'turret' he slowed down his speed and took a look into the live feed. With the target's somewhat stationary position the wolf was quick to jump the gun, taking the predicted opportunity as soon as he realized he had one.
"Engage, engage, engage!" Was all the senior airman said, and like an instant reflex the younger pilot reacted. Despite it not being in 100% accuracy range Dane compensated by raising the cross hairs of the camera above the intended target. If he were to miss he'd adjust accordingly, knowing very well that they are as vulnerable as the aircraft.
The aerial gunfight was an awkward affair; unlike the high-speed encounters of Jet aircraft, or the oversized infantry battles of GEARs, the battle between the two VTOL aircraft was an affair of near-passes and juggling for angles and deflections. As the Skyhawk let rip with a burst from its' cannon, the VTOL from the South angled sharply aside, the rounds stitching a line of damage and shredded composites across the upper surface of the hull, chunks of the shredded ceramic-polymer material dancing away in the airstream, along with a thin stream of reddish vapour. The aircraft dipped and wobbled, dropping altitude several feet before it recovered. Losing its' angle to fire back, the VTOL's burst went wide, the tracers zipping well-wide of the attack helo.
A proximity alarm and a warbling lock-on warning sounded in the helo as a pair of missiles; much smaller than conventional air-to-air missiles and arrowhead-shaped, angled in toward the helicopter. Moments later, the angular shape of one of the Southern GEARs jetted past. Damaged and missing an arm, and with sections of its' torso armour torn asunder, it somehow held together long enough, propelled by flaring blue engines in the backpack-like attachments to its' body, to land awkwardly on the ramp of the VTOL's hold, and slide inside. As soon as it had done so, the craft lit its' afterburners, climbing on roaring pillars of exhaust. The engines quickly swivelled as it gained altitude and speed, acclerating quickly past the supersonic and climbing thousands of feet high."Sir target is mobile again!" Dane cried out as he stopped firing and shifted his attention to the radar. By that time the target was moving at a rather quick speed, and all he could see was the aircraft flying out of range. Just like that the hostile was gone with whoever it picked up, causing the two to glance at eachother before Kensington muttered a curse under his breath and spoke into his microphone.
"Sir we've lost contact with the aircraft its way too fast for a helicopter to pursuit. Standing by for orders." He said with a tone of disappointment and defeat dominating his voice. What would the commanding officer think? Did he do good enough as a pilot?