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>>3532263
You wake up gently, after your short hour’s rest, to the sound of Major Grosky’s voice over a megaphone. “ALL CREW, TO YOUR ASSIGNED AIRCRAFT. REPEAT, ALL CREW, GET TO YOUR ASSIGNED AIRCRAFT. WE LEAVE IN TEN MINUTES.” The voice drones over and over, repeating the same call to your craft. As troops from various corners of the base stream towards their craft, you hop to your feet, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep from your nap. Popov wakes up groggily, and slugs Gulayev’s shoulder in an attempt to wake the slumbering beanpole. “Hzuh fuhhhh… the fuck was that for?” the punch-ee asks indignantly, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder. Popov simply shrugs, gesturing to the amply armed fighters waiting on the tarmac. It’s go time. The sight of the waiting warbirds glistening under the sun beckons to you, and you take a deep breath. Time to get serious. You wave for your squad to follow you, and step out from beneath the shade to cross the tarmac of Airbase 8842 one last time. You consider what to do with the brief space of time you’ll have before you reach your craft.

>Give a quick pep talk to the team
>Go over the likely threats you’ll encounter again
>Lighten the mood with some humor
>Other (Write-In)

Welcome back to Rogue Pilot Quest! Previously, we had a brief conclusion to Chapter 3, wherein we finally got ready to leave Airbase 8842 before nuclear fallout renders it uninhabitable and kills everyone living there.

In the meantime, you're heading for the Kingdom of Rabati, in the oil-rich Middle East, escorting a trio of IL-76 transport jets packed to the gills with support gear, fuel, and troops.

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=rogue+pilot

Pilot stats and aircraft info:
https://pastebin.com/QCCsjTdH

Rogue Pilot Quest aims to portray a relatively realistic look at modern 4th generation fighter combat. In an environment where death is quick and permanent, can you survive the harsh reality on the frontlines of a post-nuclear-war world?

Dice rolls are simple; 3d10+bonuses. Write-ins are encouraged. Enjoy and have a blast!

>>3532266
>Go over the likely threats you’ll encounter again
>Lighten the mood with some humor

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>>3532329
Well, I might fall asleep before we get more responses, but as it is I’ve written most of the next post. If the voting shifts by tomorrow, I’ll change the writing!

As always, any comments or reviews are super welcome and mega appreciated.

>>3532266
>Go over the likely threats you’ll encounter again
>Lighten the mood with some humor

>>3532266
>>Give a quick pep talk to the team
>>Go over the likely threats you’ll encounter again

>>3532329
>>3532419
>>3532753
>humor
>likely threats

Writing! And good morning. Or whatever time of day it is for you.

>>3532266
>>Give a quick pep talk to the team
>>Go over the likely threats you’ll encounter again

>>3532263
?

Uhhh
You ok QM?

>>3537519
The Freebies have captured Comrade QM. I need volunteers for a para rescue team.

QM pls no ded

Is it too late to revive the quest? Sorry to let you all down like this...

>>3550632
Woah hey, you alright QM? What happen?
Regardless I'd be glad if you're okay to run again.

>>3551136
Yeah, relationship stuff. And general malaise sent a whole fucking armored cav division after me. I’m getting my shit back in gear though.

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>>3551197
>And general malaise sent a whole fucking armored cav division after me.
What the fug

>>3551210
“General malaise” as in a general feeling of malaise. It was just a dumb pun, lol.

>>3551244
Oh ok

>>3551244
Oh right, one thing I should mention, try getting a twitter account. You can post it here and announce when a run is starting or planned, that way people can hop in instead of being unaware of a run ongoing.

>>3551639
Oh, good idea!

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https://mobile.twitter.com/Planefu1

Twatter here!

>>3551780
Yay OP is back

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>>3532266
As the line of cracked and ruined hangars, strewn rubble, and blackened hunks of metal fade into the distance, you speak up. “Alright comrades, let’s go over this before we take off. We’re heading to the desert, so if you’re not used to sand in your crotch, you either need vacuum sealed pants or to get over it. We’re flying in over the coast, but the end of our flight path will terminate over an isthmus jutting out into the gulf. Apparently, their AD system is pretty much gone after the last war, but we’ll need to watch out for a couple mid range SAMs and short range SACLOS launchers, alongside their Kfirs. The kfirs did pretty well in the last war when they got in close, so watch your radar and don’t let them sneak up on you. We’ll be coming in high, so we should have plenty of warning if anything scrambles. You two in your MiGs are gonna be pretty low on gas though, so watch your fuel if you get in close. If you DO get shot down, the water’s warm and I’m pretty sure there aren’t too many sharks nearby, so you should be alright until someone can pick you up. Any final questions?” You ask. All you get in reply is a curt headshake from Popov and the usual cocky grin from Gulayev. “Alright, then.” You reply. “Take a last look around and say your good riddances. We’re outta here.”

Satisfied that your talk’s concluded, you make it to the assembled jets. Sokolov, standing next to the neat line of airframes, gives you a salute and walks with you as you finish your walkaround before climbing into the cockpit and finishing your preflight checks. As you punch in the waypoints for the voyage ahead, the Major’s voice crackles over the radio. “Saber One, as established before, you will be flight lead for this operation. Girya Flight will follow you up into the air, and we follow your orders once we’re airborne.” You settle into your seat, closing the canopy and firing up the engines as you respond. “Affirmative, Comrade Major.” Once you’re ready, you radio the rest of the flight. “Saber One, taking off.” You taxi to the end of the runway, and sit back in your seat, doing your usual preflight ritual of a sigh, followed by bracing yourself, followed by walking the throttle forward. As the airframe whines and roars, the rubble of airbase 8842 whips past your view, and before you know it, the familiar weight of gravity settles over you as you pull the stick and gently pull into the air.

As you climb to cruising altitude, you toggle the radio and give takeoff permission to all aircraft in turn. Eventually, with the flight together, you set your course for Rabati and settle in for a long trip. “Saber Lead to all, heading confirmed. Let’s go.” As you speak, you tilt your fighter into a gentle bank. The formation follows suit, drifting off into the open sky.

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>>3552786
You cruise along in silence, speaking only to verify waypoints and check that the formation’s all together. The countryside below passes in a green and brown blur, occasionally punctuated with the blackened craters of the other nearby bases. As you pass out of familiar airspace, a voice hails you from one of the IL-76es. Strangely, it’s directly to you, not to your wingmen or the other transports. “Saber One, this is Lieutenant Nikulina. I’ve been fiddling with the direction finder on this jet, and one of the radio stations has something you need to hear. Tune in to 612. They’ve stopped broadcasting in Morse, it’s just a loop now. I’ll leave it up to your discretion what you tell Gulayev and Popov, but nobody on board besides myself and the Majors know what’s going on. I trust I can count on your discretion. Nikulina out.” Your forehead crumples into a scowl. “Roger, Comrade Nikulina.”

You dial in your direction finder to the right frequency. As the antenna turns to pick up the signal, the voice on the other end crackles in faintly. You suppose it wasn’t primarily meant to pick up voice communication, but it’s better than nothing. “—oice of the People, broadcasting from Smolava Station. We repeat, the following thirty-seven cities have been confirmed destroyed: The capital, Valdograd, Maensk, Muscovia, Grossograd, Liventch…” the list drags on for over two minutes, the announcer’s monotone voice droning out a list of many of the most populous cities in the Union and its satellite states. “This is the Voice of the People, backup station Smolava, broadcasting to anyone who can hear us. As we understand, the Union has been partially destroyed by NC forces, in the most brutal attack in human history. If it is possible, seek shelter in neighboring states. If that is not possible, gather what resources you can and hide indoors. It will be several weeks before it is safe to go back outside. We also have information suggesting that Union ground forces are on the move, and large swathes of Eastern Orapea are currently being attacked with nuclear weapons. It seems that these are the end times. We wish you the best of luck. Please spread the word.”

“The fucking world is ending.” You say numbly to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. The tinny voice starts to loop through its message again, but as it starts to read off the names of ruined cities, the pit of your stomach curls into a knot. You gently reach down and flip the direction finder off, and then move over to the radio controls. Your finger hovers over the switch, as you consider your options.

>Tell Popov and Gulayev about the mass destruction
>Keep it to yourself for now
>Other (Write-in)

>>3552887
>Tell Popov and Gulayev about the mass destruction
They'll learn about it eventually, why not now

>>3552887
>Tell Popov and Gulayev about the mass destruction

>>3552887
>>Tell Popov and Gulayev about the mass destruction
Steel your resolve, comrades.

>>3552887
>>Tell Popov and Gulayev about the mass destruction
The Freebies won't get away with this

>>3553042
>>3553741
>>3553832
>>3553850
Good stuff! Let's get a-writin' and break the bad news.

Rolled 67, 65 = 132 (2d100)

Morale roll for Gulayev, Popov

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>>3552887
Your watch ticks by as you follow the waypoints you’ve set in your nav, as you struggle to relay the news to your wingmen. The rolling greens of the Orapean mainland shores begin to fade, as mottled splotches of tan and brown start to appear. The sun settles comfortably above the horizon, bathing your flight in an eerie orange glow. “Looks like we’re getting ready to leave Union airspace. Arid terrain appearing below.” radios Popov. Gulayev is quick to respond.

“A-firm. Drier than your mom’s—“

“Shut up, you stupid bastard.”

“Just trying to lighten the mood, jeez. Or would you rather talk about that time at University when you got so drunk that you ended up fucking Olga on the balco—”

“Permission to jam Saber 3’s radio, Saber lead?”

“You used to be such a party animal. What happened to the Popov that took his Differential Equations final completely hungov—“

“PERMISSION TO JAM SABER 3’S RADIO, SABER LEAD?”

Your uncharacteristic silence unnerves the two pilots. Gulayev’s tone carries notes of concern as he asks “Boss, what’s up?”

You swallow, hard, and then speak up. “The Union may no longer exist as a functional political entity. Tune your direction finders to 612. They’re broadcasting a list of the cities that got hit. They… got Grossograd.”

At first Gulayev doesn’t respond. “…Those bastards…” He laughs, the last of the humor gone from his voice. “I was looking forward to visiting home next summer, too.” He cackles unhingedly. “Heh, you know what, hoss? Wouldn’t it be hilarious to kill every single NC sol—“

“Gulayev, get ahold of yourself.” You say, cutting him off. “You’re not the only one whose home is gone.”

“Fuck you. Everyone we ever knew is probably dead! The radio said they nuked the Sino-Xin Republic too! There is NOTHING left for us! Shit, they manufactured half the consumer goods in the… the fuckin’ world. Why would… how can a human do this?”

“Imagine if the Czar had nuclear weapons when the revolution came. This is just what power does. It protects itself, even if it destroys itself in the process. Those NC men, they’re not normal humans; they’re twisted by the greed that their society baked into them from birth. It’s not supposed to be like this… Capitalism turned them into monsters. How can they be so blind as to worship the beast that led them to this?” You respond. “If you want to survive, you better get used to keeping your emotions in check. Do that, and I’ll help you kill every last one of those scum.” Gulayev snorts. “Whatever you say, boss. Popov, what do you think of the big barbeque?”

Popov is still silent.

>See if you can get Popov to talk
>Tell Gulayev to lay off him
>Other (Write-in)

Reminder to follow the twitter if you're into that kind of thing.

https://twitter.com/Planefu1?lang=en

>>3554123
>>Tell Gulayev to lay off him
BBQ doesn't care for politics, only glorious meat, it transcends all forms of state and mind.

>>3554154
..? The uh, "barbeque" thing was Gulayev referencing the fact that a huge chunk of the Union's population got roasted in the nuclear apocalypse...

Do I need to work on my similes and metaphors and jokes?

>>3554169
I thought he was insinuating popov liked filthy capitalist quisine, but im also sleep deprived

>>3554123
>Tell Gulayev to lay off him

>>3554123
>>Tell Gulayev to lay off him

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Morning, buddies! I’ve got work in 45 minutes that will last for about 8 hours, so I’ll see you at the end of all that. Maybe a plane/weapon post will make it through in the downtime.

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>>3555447
So, everyone knows about the F-15E Strike Eagle

But what about the F-15A *Streak* Eagle?

In 1975, the USAF modified an F-15A in order to set several performance records. They stripped out:
The gun
The radar and all unnecessary avionics
One of the plane’s generators
And most of the radios

However, they still had to add some stuff for the record attempts:
Since pressurizing the pilot’s suit instead of the cockpit saved on weight, they installed the equipment for a full pressure suit, saving weight.
They also had to add a bunch of instruments to detect airspeed, too
They replaced the generators they removed with lower endurance but much lighter batteries
Stuck a lightweight camera in to get verifiable footage
And last but not least: they modified the arresting hook. They strengthened it to be hooked up to a bar that kept the jet in place while it fired up the engines on the runway.

All told, the Streak Eagle weighed nearly a ton less than the basic F-15A, 1800 pounds under its weight.

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>>3555483
Also, it had the weirdest flight profile of all time. It was used primarily to set climb speed altitude records. The pilots would fire up the engines, build up power, then shoot down the runway. They’d be in the air after only 400 feet, which is an absurdly short distance, do an Immelman after flying forward, and fly over the base in a 2.5G climb while upside-down. Then they’d roll upright, briefly pull the nose up a short ways, level out, and cruise until they hit 2.2 mach. After that, the fun began: the pilot put the jet in a 60 degree climb and maxed out the power.

Thanks to the incredible thrust to weight ratio of the plane, the jet could get up to 100,000 feet, so high that towards the peak of the flight arc, the pilot had to shut down the engines due to lack of oxygen. Usually, if you’re up that high, you’re going incredibly fast, fast enough that you can collect enough air molecules in your intake to burn with your fuel. But when you’re flying a ballistic arc going for maximum altitude and climb rate, your speeds can get very low towards the apex of your climb.

After reaching the peak, the pilot would push the nose down, descend a bit, restart the engines mid-flight, and return to base.

The Streak Eagle was nuts. It dethroned the famous MiG-25 from the “fastest time to altitude” title, and overall showed the world how formidable the F-15 was, even in its earliest form.

>>3555483
>St. Louis
>all those parking lots where there should be buildings
look how they massacred my boy

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>>3555634
Napalm the suburbs and mandate high density zoning everywhere desu

Cities designed around cars are unsustainable and cancerous

Also amend the constitution to allow land taxes and replace all taxes of any kind with a single tax on the unimproved value of land.

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>>3554123
You butt in before your other wingman can say anything. “Lay off him for now, Gulayev. There will be plenty of time to talk after the flight. Popov, let us know when you’re ready to talk.” You realize your fist has been clenched against your leg for the last several minutes. You slowly relax the muscles, feeling the tension ease as you flex your fingers beneath their gloved exterior. The flight cruises along wordlessly, the only sound the familiar mechanical hissing roar of the engines. You check back in with the transports, if only to break the silence.

“Saber One to Girya Flight, you guys keeping up?”

A familiar voice answers your call. “Affirmative, Saber One. En route to the next waypoint. Any threats we should know about?” It’s Major Nikonov. Her voice, harsh as ever, betrays no hint of emotion. You guess she’s not the type to dwell on the horrors of war when survival is at hand.

“No, nothing on the RWR. Looks like a clear shot if our luck holds for the next few hours. Any word from friendly forces?” You ask. The Ilyushins are hauling all the radio equipment, so if anyone had news, they’d be the ones to know.

The Major exhales into the microphone. “I won’t mince words.” When does she ever, you wonder. “Yes. We have received automated orders on a military channel to report to the staging area in Kronetsk, in the Northern Great Tundra. However, we will be maintaining our current flight path and heading to Rabati. We need to get somewhere safe to assess the situation in more detail.”

>The hell you’re ignoring orders like that. You should be regrouping to strike the NC however you can. Have Saber Flight lock up Girya Flight and force them to reroute to Kronetsk Staging Area.
>She’s right. You don’t even know if there’s anyone alive at Kronetsk. The orders are an automated message; what if there’s no base to land at? You can always gather more intel in Rabati.
>Other (Write-in)

This decision represents a major turning point in the story; your choice to go to the unknown oil kingdom of Rabati, or head to the unknown tundra base at Kronetsk is critical.

Remember, bad decisions can get you killed. Maybe not right away, and maybe not if you're lucky and skilled, but they'll get you eventually if you make enough of them.

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Well, while we wait for responses, I’ve got a manhwa or whatever the korean manga strips are called for you.

“Flight Highschool” by Anyan. It’s fully translated, with very, very occasional updates. If you check the tumblr linked below, they have breakdowns of most of the jokes (though if you’re here you’ll probably get a good number of them anyway).

The series is just about cute plane girls doing cute things, and it makes me smile every time I read it. I’ll be posting a few samples with brief descriptions of the jokes from them.

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>>3557701
>>3557701
This one’s about the Falklands War, where Sea Harriers used the then-new AIM-9L (the first major Sidewinder model with high aspect targeting capability, it could engage enemy aircraft even from the front, instead of having to see their exhaust and engines directly) to claim air superiority over the super etenards and mirage Vs of the argentine air force.

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>>3557701
Oh, SPEAKING of the tumblr linked below, here you are:
https://flight-highschool.tumblr.com/

The MiG-23 was notorious for being a complex maintenance hog, despite being widely exported to foreign countries from the USSR. So, a new, massively simplified modification was created: the MiG-27. By replacing the air to air radar with air to ground targeting systems, replacing the 20mm (I think) cannon with a gigantic 30mm, and removing the variable intake ramps in favor of much less maintenance intensive fixed ramps, the conversion turned the MiG-23 from an overly complicated high altitude drag racer to a usable ground attack fighter.

In the process, it lost its air to air radar guided missile capabilities, but of course still retains compatibility with the lethal and powerful R-73 missile.

The joke in the comic? The 30mm produces vibrations so powerful that they damage the airframe with extended use.

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>>3557720
This one’s simple and funny. Gripen is super cheap for the excellent capabilities it offers. It’s no 5th gen beast like the F-35, but its extremely low maintenance costs and low price have made it very popular.

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>>3557730
2/3
Also, the Gripen has a great payload for its weight. Hence the rather large boobs.

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>>3557732
And of course, when you’ve got the typhoon and rafale and their high prices trying to compete, and the F-35 slowly getting cheaper than either of them while STILL having more capabilities, the two main options for most countries are the cheap gripen or the more expensive f-35.

>>3557291
>>She’s right. You don’t even know if there’s anyone alive at Kronetsk. The orders are an automated message; what if there’s no base to land at? You can always gather more intel in Rabati.

>>3557291
>>She’s right. You don’t even know if there’s anyone alive at Kronetsk. The orders are an automated message; what if there’s no base to land at? You can always gather more intel in Rabati.
We already agreed to and prepared for this course, rerouting so suddenly is too high risk.

>>3557291
>She’s right. You don’t even know if there’s anyone alive at Kronetsk. The orders are an automated message; what if there’s no base to land at? You can always gather more intel in Rabati.

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>>3557875
>>3557960
>>3558162
Looks like we’re going to Rabati after all.

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>>3557291
“…Alright, Major. Saber One out.” You respond, cutting the connection. As much as you want to hunt down the bastards that did this, it’s not the right time. Not yet… Damn. All those warm, well-stocked bars in every corner of every Union city. The kids playing in the streets of the massive housing blocs. The cold winters that brought people together. The camaraderie of fighting for the rights of workers. Where did it all go? You again have to force yourself to unclench your fist, willing the muscles into an obedient peace. As you do, you imagine a long-lost day in the sun, spreading out your fingers to catch a flying ball thrown by a good friend. The parents sitting about idly in their brightly patterned outfits, watching the children run about, chatting about the latest appliance or international happenings. Your thoughts drift to Rabati, the ocean of sand and rock punctuated with tiny oases of light and wild riches. You try to imagine Gulayev and Popov wearing the customary white desert robes of the Rabatis, but the image brings only laughter. You lose track of time in your daydreams, when suddenly Popov’s voice breaks you out of your reverie.

“Saber Three to Saber flight. Thirty minutes until probable enemy contact over the gulf. One hour until arrival in Rabati.” You respond. “Confirmed, Saber Three.” There is little else to say. You contact Girya flight and check back in with them, set your course, and look back down at the countryside below.

After what seems like an eternity, you reach your penultimate waypoint. You can see the coast of the peninsula jutting out into the gulf below, and you can almost feel the electromagnetic eyes of the enemy upon you. Almost. As you feel the tension setting into your muscles, Gulayev breaks the silence on the radio. “Oh, shi—“

Scene Music [https://youtu.be/f4BFRqgI1tM]

Before he can finish speaking, your RWR lights up like a christmas tree, indicating a tracking threat. You cross reference the direction of the radar with your map—it looks like a long range ground radar tracking you. Damn it. You mentally calculate your range to the peninsula; probably 80 or so kilometers. “Saber One to Girya and Saber flights, it looks like they know we’re here. Saber, radar on. Stay alert for their interceptors.” As your flight accelerates ahead of the transports and moves into a combat spread, Major Nikonov’s voice hisses over the radio. “Roger, Saber. Don’t get us killed. Good luck.”

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>>3558499
You take a moment to note the tactical situation.

Your weaponry:
2x R-73
2x R-27
2x R-77
2x Kh-31
2x Kh-29L

Gulayev's weaponry:
2x R-73
2x R-77
2x B-8M rocket pods (20 S-8 and 20 S-8D)

Popov's weaponry:
2x R-27
2x R-77
2x Kh-31

Targets:
None Detected (Yet)

>Go straight for the peninsula. The sooner you can get in range of that radar, the sooner you can kill it and blind the enemy.
>Hang back for now. No need to overextend before you've seen any threats
>Other (Write-in)
>Before you choose, please ask any questions you have about the combat situation, weaponry, or anything else you would like to know before making your decision.

Weapon information here:
https://pastebin.com/tLGaU8ee

>>3558616
>Go straight for the peninsula. The sooner you can get in range of that radar, the sooner you can kill it and blind the enemy.
Best we catch them on the back foot and take as many out as we can while our civvie companions are still a ways away from danger

>>3558616
>>Go straight for the peninsula. The sooner you can get in range of that radar, the sooner you can kill it and blind the enemy.

>>3551780
Nice, the quest lives!

>>3558616
>Other (Write-in)
>we charge the peninsula along with Popov, Gulayev hangs back. Hopefully we can take out the radar with anti-radiation missiles.

Thanks to a massive storm you can all google, the internet’s out in my neck of Dallas, in case you’re wondering why there haven’t been any updates. More to come when the network gets unfucked; til then I’m stuck phoneposting.

>>3566191
Thanks for the update, was getting worried here.

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>>3558616
You issue your commands “Saber flight, fight’s on, just like the briefing. Popov, arm your Kh-31s and stick in the front with me. Gulayev, hang back three kilometers. I don’t want anything slotting our rear without you ready to blast it.” Your wingmen reply in the usual fashion. “Good copy boss, taking the rear.” You can hear the venom in Gulayev’s voice. You shrug it off. He just has to hold together long enough to land in Rabati. Popov seems to have calmed down from before, issuing only a professional “Roger. Saber 3 arming Kh-31s and increasing thrust.” Kilometers to your flank, Gulayev peels off from the formation as he swings his Fulcrum to the rear. You and Popov close ranks and match pace, blasting over the glinting waters below towards the unknown enemy. Your HUD reads 140 kilometers to the enemy shoreline.

The moments hang heavily on the second hand of your watch, dripping past in slow motion as the familiar time dilation of combat sets in. Your RWR continues to insistently remind you that the enemy’s electronic eyes are upon you, and the distance counter ticks down the kilometers to the shoreline—140, 130, 120… You scan your gaze around the cockpit, checking your instrumentation and various systems, then focus back in on your weapons.

It isn’t until 70 kilometers that your KH-31 picks up the enemy radar. “Got a positive ID on a radar site, let’s see if we can’t hit it. Popov, do you have the same target?” You ask. “Confirmed. Single target, 70km range, right on the shoreline.” Well, it looks like the professionalism is here to stay. Your trigger finger is itching to take the shot, but you’re not sure how many other radar sites are in the area. You think over your options in the few moments you have before you reach the shore.

>Have Popov take the shot (QM rolls 3d10+bonuses)
>Roll 3d10 to see how long it takes you to lock onto the radar site, then shoot it yourself
>Both of you shoot at it. If a missile fails you’ve gotta lock another one, and you’re closing pretty fast
>Other (Write-in)

>>3570342
>Have Popov take the shot (QM rolls 3d10+bonuses)
If something happens we can react

>>3570342
>>Have Popov take the shot (QM rolls 3d10+bonuses)