Flying Shark Attacks

The alarm blared, and the Naval Aviation personnel waiting in the combat duty room grabbed their helmets and sprinted toward the fighters already prepared for takeoff on the flight deck.

Liu Jun had only taken a few steps forward when he remembered his own fighter was still in the hangar. He hurriedly followed his instructor, Zhang Peng, and dashed toward the J-15S [139].

As he reached [139], he noticed an auxiliary fuel tank mounted on the J-15S's belly hardpoint, instantly realizing this mission would cover a long range—the extra tank was necessary to meet fuel consumption demands.

"Take the back seat."

Zhang Peng said to Liu Jun, then climbed into the cockpit via the front-seat boarding ladder. Liu Jun watched his instructor settle into the front seat before climbing into the rear cockpit himself. After adjusting his helmet, he began checking the instruments and ensuring no loose or unsecured items were in the cockpit.

The twin-seat J-15S carrier-based fighter had the pilot in the front and the weapons officer in the rear—one handled flying, the other managed onboard weaponry. This division of labor reduced the pilot's workload; a single-seat fighter required the pilot to both attack and control the aircraft, which was mentally draining, and human energy was limited.

As a veteran pilot, Zhang Peng had far more flight hours than Liu Jun and was much more familiar with aircraft control, making mistakes less likely in intense combat. Letting Liu Jun handle the weapons system meant he could fire missiles by following training procedures step by step.

But that was just the surface. There was another deeper reason: in the event of a dangerous ejection, the tandem ejection mechanism in a twin-seat fighter meant the rear seat would eject slightly earlier than the front. In a critical situation, that small head start could mean survival.

After confirming everything was in order, the ground crew used a tug to tow the J-15S to the takeoff position. Amid the mechanical noise, the three blast deflectors behind the aircraft slowly rose. [139] entered takeoff preparation, and the wheel chocks in front of the landing gear locked the rear strut in place.

The tug drove away, and the ground crew crouched to inspect the J-15S's exterior. After confirming no abnormalities, they signaled to Zhang Peng, [All clear].

With a sharp whine from the engines, the J-15S's left engine started, followed seconds later by the right. The instrument panel showed normal engine status. The folded wings extended, and the ground crew checked the Flying Shark's various aerodynamic surfaces—canards, ailerons, horizontal stabilizers, elevators.

After confirming the aircraft was in good condition and the instruments were normal, Zhang Peng placed his left hand on the throttle and gripped the control stick with his right. He nudged the throttle forward, and the engines expelled high-temperature exhaust, which the blast deflectors scattered upward.

The J-15S surged forward, but the wheel chocks in the takeoff zone held it in place, building energy for launch. The engines' shriek grew louder.

When the Flying Shark was ready, Zhang Peng looked at the yellow-vested deck crew and signaled for takeoff.

Whoosh! The chocks behind the rear landing gear retracted into the deck. The already-primed J-15S shot forward. Zhang Peng pushed the throttle steadily, and the fighter rolled up the ski-jump at the bow's 14° angle. Instantly, he felt as if he'd slammed into a wall. The sensation had barely reached his brain when the J-15S, with its flaps deployed, launched off the carrier deck along the incline.

The Flying Shark dipped a few meters, and the familiar feeling of weightlessness hit. Zhang Peng pushed the throttle to full. Once the J-15S stabilized its attitude, he pulled back on the stick to climb, retracting the landing gear and flaps. In the rear seat, Liu Jun watched his instructor execute a textbook carrier takeoff—no wonder the chief engineer had said the old man had real skill.

Next, Zhang Peng climbed the Flying Shark toward high altitude with what could almost be called aggressive handling. Liu Jun noticed the wingman [140] had also taken off. The two J-15S formed a dual-aircraft formation, heading 030, climbing to 8,000 meters.

[Distant air situation report: Our electronic reconnaissance ship is being harassed by three unidentified aircraft. 139, 140, your mission is to cover the 815A's retreat.]

The air traffic controller's voice came through the comm channel, relaying the mission.

[Note: These unidentified aircraft are armed.]

[139, roger.]

[140, roger.]

After reporting in, the dual formation climbed higher. On the radar's IFF identification, several other Flying Sharks could be seen patrolling the waters around the Liaoning. They had burned significant fuel, and since the combat zone was far, only the four J-15S on the Liaoning could be dispatched for this task.

This was Liu Jun's first night mission, and a combat one at that. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He checked the J-15S's payload: two PL-10 short-range missiles on the wingtips, four PL-12 medium-range missiles, and 150 rounds of cannon ammunition.

The J-15S's payload capacity was far greater than this, but limited by the Liaoning's ski-jump takeoff method, it couldn't launch with full fuel and full ordnance. Some weapons had to be sacrificed to extend range.

"Xiao Jun, nervous?"

Once the J-15S reached sufficient altitude and stabilized, Zhang Peng asked over the internal channel. This live combat mission was stressful not just for Liu Jun—even this veteran pilot felt the pressure.

From satellite remote sensing imagery, airborne early warning radar, and subsequent reconnaissance feedback from the WJ-7 drone, the battlefield situation showed that while the USA's Carl Vinson Carrier Strike Group hadn't lost any ships yet, it had taken a severe beating. Nearly every vessel was damaged, thick smoke billowing out, and raging fires scorching the hulls.

This fight wouldn't be easy. Zhang Peng mentally raised his alert level. Years of flying had honed his instincts, and he sensed danger. He glanced at the rearview mirror at his apprentice, who was focused on the radar.

"A little nervous."

Liu Jun answered honestly. After all, this was his first time in actual combat, and the enemy was an unidentified aircraft.

Data-link information showed severe electromagnetic jamming in the mission area, with radar signals suppressed. In such a complex environment, even the PL-12 medium-range missile couldn't guarantee a 100% hit rate, especially if the enemy was at low altitude—multipath clutter would also affect the missile's seeker targeting. The Carl Vinson Carrier Strike Group at the center was getting pummeled by these unidentified aircraft.

If the enemy were that simple, the USA would have shot them all down long ago and made a big show of it on the international stage.

Time ticked by. The auxiliary fuel tank's aviation fuel was nearly spent, and they were now approaching the mission area. According to the data link, the 815A was still 30 nautical miles away.

[Jettison auxiliary fuel tanks.]

Clunk! The fuel tank under the belly hardpoint detached and fell toward the sea below. An empty fuel tank was just dead weight for a fighter.

Under the hands-on-throttle-and-stick control system, the PL-12 missiles under the wings powered up their seekers. The onboard radar strained to search for signals from those unidentified aircraft. Even knowing the medium-range missiles' hit rate was low, the missiles had to be fired!