Sky-cracking Rider

Despite the A-39B "Big Mouth Monster" light turboprop attack aircraft's primary roles in reconnaissance, patrol, and ground fire support, and its more than adequate ability to bully unguarded ground targets, it's not considered an air superiority model. However, occasionally playing the role of 'hit-and-run' aerial support still falls within its capabilities—it always has some fight in it.

Carrying Chekhov and Chen Fei, the "Big Mouth Monster" dashed over three hundred meters on the runway. The nose of the plane suddenly lifted, the landing gear detached from the ground, and the aircraft swiftly soared into the sky, successfully completing the take-off procedure.

"Listen, the two of us are now grasshoppers tied to the same string. Whether we can survive now entirely depends on you. Keep an eye on the instruments and buttons in front of you, and start getting familiar with them."

After ascending, the unreliable Big Bear Squadron Leader finally started to take things seriously.

After all, being high up in the air, the higher you fly, the harder you crash.

"Ah?"

Chen Fei never even imagined he would become a co-pilot one day.

What to do if caught driving without a license? Online waiting, urgent!

Traffic Police Comrade: You first come down!

But right now, with the aircraft in midair, he couldn't come down!

Chen Fei was almost inclined to wish for death.

He quickly threw the liquor bottle under his feet and stepped on it hard. This thing even involved drunk driving!

He could already smell the disgusting stench of alcohol in the cockpit. Had this bear not brushed his teeth for hundreds of years?

"First, try the communication channels. The control tower will assist you, so recall what you saw in the technical manual."

Despite Commander Chekhov Leonidovich Ivanov of Aircrew Base Combat Flight Squadron appearing to randomly recruit a strapping fellow, it wasn't a haphazard selection.

When he saw Chen Fei, the rookie was holding a technical manual for the A-39B "Big Mouth Monster" light turboprop attack aircraft. Although it was only Book A, with Book B, C, D, E, F, and G still remaining, Book A was the general outline—covering all module components, including a basic introduction to the functions on the dashboard.

Even if it wasn't an operational flight manual, one could at least understand what was going on, more than enough for a Fire Control Operator's guidance.

Communication channels?

Having been shanghaied onto this thieving aircraft, Chen Fei had no choice but to fiddle with the controls on the dashboard, making a sad face.

Luckily, the technical manual (A) for the light attack aircraft was still tightly gripped in his hand, so there was still time to flip through the pages if needed.

He tried toggling the communication switches a few times.

"Roar!~Half-baked Finish, Minotaur! Roar! Eunuch! Roar! Docile face to face, looking like a ghost, complaining Dragon Lord is too tough, all go to die, die! Roar roar roar..."

The sudden roar startled Chen Fei, making him hastily adjust the frequency.

"What the hell is that noise! Scared the life out of me!"

It wasn't only Chen Fei who heard the sudden roar; Chekhov in the front seat also had the hairs on his back stand up in unison.

Just hearing those couple of sentences, they felt this was loaded with an awfully huge amount of information.

"It's not me, I don't know. That was the public communication channel just now."

Chen Fei quickly toggled the switches a few more times, and another voice came through his earpiece.

"Sss... Calling 211, calling 211, this is 911 control tower, please respond if you receive this."

"211 received. I am 'Peanut Butter,' ascending, speed 330 kilometers per hour, estimated to enter the combat airspace in 5 minutes."

Chekhov kept pulling on the control stick, opening the throttle to maximum, causing the "Big Mouth Monster" to maintain a steep angle of ascent. He wasn't in a rush to barge into the fiercely contested battlefield right away.

For aircraft within the atmosphere, altitude is the best booster.

With a sufficient altitude advantage, a propeller-driven fighter would even dare to take on a jet fighter.

"IFF friend-foe identification verified, battlefield data link connected, initiating temporary key, please maintain smooth communications."

The control tower staff had already retreated to the second backup command post in the underground bomb shelter, leaving the ground completely deserted.

Dragon Spikes raining down from the sky were everywhere, and even taking shelter inside armored vehicles wasn't necessarily safe.

The penetration ability of Dragon Spikes shed from Metallic Dragons was comparable to armor-piercing shells, especially effective against metal materials, with a strong erosion effect. Even the thickest armor steel was no different from paper mache, whereas the defensive effect of non-metallic composite materials was not discounted.

"'Peanut Butter' received. 'Genuine Fragrance' Squadron, pay attention, stay close to me. Prepare for dual aircraft formation dive-bombing. 'Devil Pepper,' are you still alive? I haven't seen you."

The suddenly serious Big Bear was a far cry from his behavior on the ground.

"'Devil Pepper' is still here, I see you, 'Peanut Butter.' 'Genuine Fragrance' Squadron is all here, beginning to assemble."

The deputy squadron leader of the "Genuine Fragrance" Combat Flight Squadron, the short-haired girl Irinei Rusios, spoke up in the communication channel with a calm and collected voice.

Her flight call sign "Devil Pepper" really matched the temperament of a feisty South American chili.

Before Chekhov's 211 turboprop aircraft took off, the "Genuine Fragrance" squadron made a probing attack and then began to play to their strengths by adopting hit-and-run tactics. They struck once and left immediately, whether they hit the target or not, refusing to engage in a prolonged fight.

"Hey! Rook behind me, give yourself a call sign. How about 'Rookie'? It really suits you!"

"Peanut Butter" Chekhov turned his attention back to his rear once again.

"No, no, no, I don't want that!"

What the heck is 'Rookie'? Chen Fei shook his head as if it were a rattle-drum. He was an apprentice in the repair team, a hard-working tool person. Why would he need a call sign?

Not "Peanut Butter," then it's "Devil Pepper," and even "Genuine Fragrance"?

What, are they planning to cook?

Why not stew this Big Bear first?

That's the true essence of "Genuine Fragrance."

Chen Fei couldn't understand these pilots' twisted sense of humor at all.

"Every pilot needs to have their own flight call sign. It's a tradition, like me—my call sign is 'Peanut Butter.' My father is also a pilot; his call sign is 'Caviar,' and my grandpa, he flew La-9s and his call sign was 'Ketchup.' The Ivanov family has a long lineage of pilots; our veins flow with aviation kerosene, hurrah!"

Great, three generations of sauces passed down in the family!

While meeting up with other A-39B "Big Mouth Monster" light turboprop attack aircraft from the "Genuine Fragrance" squadron, Chekhov took the opportunity to explain all this to Chen Fei.

"I just started learning to fix aircraft, I'm not a pilot."

Little Chen Fei was almost crying. He was pushed into this situation like a duck being forced onto a perch, inexplicably stuffed into the cabin.

He really wanted to use the thick and heavy technical manual in his hand to slap this unreasonable Big Bear to death.

"So where are you? What do you want to do?" Suddenly, Chekhov raised his hands high, then shouted loudly, "Tell me, who are you?" These were almost soul-piercing triple questions.

At this moment, nobody was holding the control stick!

The "Big Mouth Monster" continued to climb upwards on its momentum for a while, before beginning to turn aimlessly and drift downwards.

"Are you insane?"

Seeing the Big Bear in the front seat playing double hands-free at this critical moment, Chen Fei was beside himself with anger. Now was not the time for jokes.

A fighter jet is not a bicycle; without autopilot, letting go is like shaking hands with the Grim Reaper.

"Tell me, who are you?"

Chekhov was relentless, letting the Combat Aircraft he shared with Chen Fei begin to fall freely.

"'Peanut Butter,' what are you guys doing?"

The second backup command center, located inside the underground air defense facility, not only heard the conversation between the two but also captured the irregular maneuver of aircraft number 211, the "Big Mouth Monster," on radar.

"Squadron Leader, stop fooling around!"

"Devil Pepper" girl Iline Rusios flew her aircraft closer and noticed the anomaly of 211 as well. This was definitely not a proper dive attack maneuver.

"Grab the control stick, we're going to crash! We're crashing! We're crashing!"

Chekhov waved his hands, jumping up and down in the front seat performing the Big Bear dance, causing the 200-plus-pound aircraft to shake even more violently.

"Are you out of your mind? Aaaaah, pull it up, pull it up aaaaah..."

Chen Fei could no longer hold back. Tucking the technical manual under his arm, he grabbed the control stick and pulled it back with all his might.

Where the "Big Mouth Monster" would fly to next, the ground, the sky, or level out—who knew!

Finally, with human intervention, the turboprop aircraft dove at an angle for a distance before gradually leveling off. The shaking frame once again stabilized and began to climb.

An aircraft with a statically stable design like this was actually not difficult to control. Only when the speed dropped below 130 kilometers per hour would there be a risk of stalling. Even so, given the speed at which it dove spinning, hitting the ground would only be a matter of mere seconds, but there was still enough time to recover.

"Hurrah!~~"

Chekhov cheered, saying, "Look! Look! I knew it, you're a qualified pilot. Tell me, who are you?"

Who am I, where am I, and what do I want to do?

The standard triple question of the soul. This Big Bear wasn't stupid at all, just a bit too drunk.

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