Operation Granite Breaker

Scenario Name: Operation Granite Breaker

Time and Date: July 21, 1970, 01:00:00 (Zulu)

Friendly Forces:

Primary Country/Coalition: Soviet Union
Bases of Operation:

Airbase: Dolon Air Base, Kazakh SSR, Soviet Union (50°32'00.0"N 79°11'00.0"E)

Order of Battle:

Aircraft:

2x 3M 'Bison-B' Strategic Bombers

Loadout (per aircraft): 2x FAB-9000M-54 GPB
Home Base: Dolon Air Base

Adversarial Forces:

Primary Country/Coalition: People's Republic of China
Bases of Operation:

Military Installation: Subterranean Command and Control Bunker, near Hami, Xinjiang, China

Order of Battle (Known and Suspected):

Ground-Based Threats:

Integrated Air Defense Systems (IADS):

S-75 Dvina (SA-2 Guideline) SAM Site: At least one battery is protecting the high-value facility, likely positioned on the approach from the north (Estimated location: 43.15° N, 93.60° E).
AAA: Multiple batteries of 100mm KS-19 anti-aircraft guns are expected to be dug into the hills surrounding the target coordinates.

Early Warning Radars:

P-14 (Tall King) Early Warning Radar: A long-range VHF radar is providing surveillance over the region, likely positioned east of the target to cover the Mongolian border (Estimated location: 43.00° N, 94.20° E).

Aircraft:

Shenyang J-6 (MiG-19) Interceptors: A squadron is based at Hami Airbase (42.8422° N, 93.6694° E) with the specific mission of defending the command bunker.

Mission & Objectives:

Geopolitical Situation:
A year after the bloody Sino-Soviet border clashes on Damansky Island, tensions remain exceptionally high. KGB intelligence, corroborated by satellite imagery, has identified the construction of a massive, deeply buried command and control bunker in the mountains near the city of Hami. This facility is assessed to be a new strategic headquarters for the People's Liberation Army, designed to withstand a nuclear attack and command forces in a war against the Soviet Union. The Soviet Politburo views the operational status of this bunker as an immediate and unacceptable threat. A decision has been made to conduct a preemptive strike using the largest conventional bombs in the Soviet arsenal, the FAB-9000M-54, in a mission designed to cause a geological-scale collapse, entombing the facility.
Friendly Mission:
You are to command a two-ship element of 3M 'Bison-B' bombers on a deep-penetration night strike. Your sole objective is to deliver four FAB-9000M-54 bombs onto a precise point on the mountain above the suspected location of the subterranean bunker. The mission requires a high-altitude approach to maximize the kinetic energy of the weapons upon impact. The goal is not just to crater the surface but to trigger a seismic event that will collapse the underground facility. This mission will operate on a Hi-Hi-Hi profile, with a 3150 nm strike radius and a cruise altitude of 36,000 ft.
Success Criteria:

Primary Objective: Deliver all four FAB-9000M-54 bombs onto the designated target point (Coordinates: 43.105° N, 93.525° E). A successful mission will be determined by the "Heavy Damage" status of the target location.
Secondary Objective: Neutralize the primary S-75 SAM site during your egress.
Constraint: Both aircraft must exit Chinese airspace. Losing one aircraft is acceptable if the primary objective is met.
Constraint: The strike must be completed during the hours of darkness (Day only Limited All-Weather capability for this loadout).

Operation Granite Breaker: Probability Assessment

Scenario Overview

Mission: Two Soviet 3M 'Bison-B' bombers conduct a high-altitude, night strike to deliver four FAB-9000M-54 bombs onto a subterranean command bunker near Hami, Xinjiang, China. The goal is to inflict "Heavy Damage" by collapsing the facility, then exit Chinese airspace with both aircraft.
Key Threats: S-75 Dvina (SA-2) SAM site, 100mm KS-19 AAA, P-14 (Tall King) early warning radar, and J-6 (MiG-19) interceptors.

Key Threats and Mission Factors

1. Early Warning and Detection

P-14 Tall King radar provides long-range surveillance, making undetected approach unlikely.
Night operations reduce visual detection but do not negate radar coverage.
Probability of undetected penetration: Very low; bombers will be detected as they approach the target area.

2. S-75 Dvina (SA-2) SAM Threat

The S-75 Dvina was highly effective against high-altitude bombers, with a historical shootdown rate of 7–10% per engagement for large bombers, and higher if multiple salvos are fired1 2.
Probability of at least one bomber being hit during ingress or egress: ~40% (for a two-bomber formation, with coordinated defense and ECM).

3. AAA and Interceptor Threat

100mm KS-19 AAA is effective at medium altitudes, but less so at 36,000 ft unless bombers descend for accuracy.
J-6 (MiG-19) interceptors are fast and can engage bombers, but their effectiveness at night is limited by radar and GCI capabilities of the era3.
Probability of successful engagement by interceptors: ~20% (night, high altitude, and bomber ECM reduce risk).

4. Bombing Accuracy and Bunker Destruction

FAB-9000M-54 bombs are among the largest conventional bombs, with significant blast effect, but are unguided. High-altitude release increases survivability but reduces accuracy.
Probability of achieving "Heavy Damage" to a deeply buried, hardened bunker: ~35% (due to the challenge of precisely hitting a small, hardened target and the limited penetration of conventional bombs against deep underground facilities4 5).
Probability of neutralizing the S-75 site during egress: ~30% (requires accurate targeting and surviving initial engagement).

5. Bomber Survivability and Egress

Probability both bombers exit Chinese airspace after the strike: ~55% (considering cumulative risks from SAMs, AAA, and interceptors).

Probability Table

Mission Phase / Objective	Probability (%)
Penetrate to target area with both bombers	60
Achieve "Heavy Damage" to bunker (all bombs on target)	35
Neutralize S-75 SAM site during egress	30
Both bombers exit Chinese airspace	55

Combined Full Mission Success

Probability of achieving all objectives (bunker destroyed, S-75 neutralized, both bombers return):

0.60×0.35×0.30×0.55≈0.0350.60 \times 0.35 \times 0.30 \times 0.55 \approx 0.0350.60×0.35×0.30×0.55≈0.035 (~3.5%)

Partial Success

Probability of destroying the bunker and returning at least one bomber, but failing to neutralize the S-75 site:
~15%

Failure

Probability of failing to destroy the bunker, losing both bombers, or suffering heavy losses:
~81.5%

Summary Table

Outcome Description	Probability (%)
Full Success (all objectives, both bombers return)	3.5
Partial Success (bunker destroyed, one bomber lost or S-75 survives)	15
Failure (bunker survives, both bombers lost, or major loss)	81.5

Key Points

Most likely outcome: The bomber force is detected, faces S-75 launches and possible J-6 interception, and may suffer losses or only partial target destruction.
Greatest risks: Early detection, effective SAM engagement, and the challenge of precision bombing against a deeply buried, hardened target.
Best practices for success:

Maintain strict electronic discipline and formation.
Time the approach to exploit any gaps in radar or interceptor coverage.
Prioritize accurate bomb delivery and rapid egress.

In summary:

Odds of full mission success: ~3.5%
Odds of partial success: ~15%
Odds of failure: ~81.5%

Operation Granite Breaker is an extremely high-risk, low-probability strike, with the main threats being robust Chinese air defenses and the inherent difficulty of destroying a modern underground command bunker with conventional munitions1 2 4 5.

1 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S-75_Dvina
2 https://www.eurasiantimes.com/shooting-down-a-dozen-b-52-bombers-meet-the-russian-missile/
3 https://www.historynet.com/mig-19-serve-north-vietnamese/
4 https://en.topwar.ru/257148-dostuchatsja-do-dna-granicy-vozmozhnogo-dlja-protivobunkernyh-boepripasov.html
5 https://www.businessinsider.com/russia-likely-using-upgraded-bombs-that-can-smash-underground-bunkers-2023-11

Based on the operational scenario "Operation Granite Breaker," here are 10 character profiles, each crafted to fit within the high-stakes world of a military and espionage techno-thriller.

1. The Soviet Bomber Pilot

Name: Major Ivan Kuznetsov

Callsign/Codename: Bear 71-Lead

Age: 38

Nationality: Soviet (Russian)

Affiliation: Soviet Air Forces, Long-Range Aviation

Rank/Position: Major, Aircraft Commander

Assigned Unit & Location: 362nd Heavy Bomber Aviation Regiment, Dolon Air Base, Kazakh SSR

Physical Description: A man of medium height and solid build, with a face that seems permanently etched with the fatigue of countless hours spent at high altitude. His eyes, a pale blue, are accustomed to scanning the vast emptiness of the stratosphere and the complex glow of his cockpit instruments. His movements are economical and precise, born of necessity in the cramped confines of a bomber.

Psychological Profile: Kuznetsov is a consummate professional, a pilot who trusts his machine and his training above all else. He is a man of few words, believing that discipline and action are the only things that matter once the engines start. The immense political weight of this mission is not lost on him, but he compartmentalizes it, focusing solely on the mechanics of the flight: altitude, airspeed, and fuel consumption. His primary internal conflict is the gnawing awareness of the low probability of success and the knowledge that he is leading his men into a mission from which they are unlikely to return.

Role-Specific Skills: Expert in high-altitude strategic bombing runs and long-duration flights. Master of the 3M 'Bison-B's' flight characteristics, particularly its unforgiving nature at the edge of its performance envelope.

Background Summary: The son of a Stalingrad veteran, Ivan was raised on stories of patriotic sacrifice. He was a natural pilot, graduating at the top of his class from the Orenburg Higher Military Aviation School. He has spent the last decade flying the 'Bison,' a machine he both respects and curses. He has a wife and two young children in Saratov, a life he has mentally firewalled away for the duration of this mission.

2. The Soviet Navigator/Bombardier

Name: Captain Alexei Orlov

Callsign/Codename: Bear 71-Navigator

Age: 32

Nationality: Soviet (Ukrainian)

Affiliation: Soviet Air Forces, Long-Range Aviation

Rank/Position: Captain, Navigator-Bombardier

Assigned Unit & Location: 362nd Heavy Bomber Aviation Regiment, Dolon Air Base, Kazakh SSR

Physical Description: Thinner and more academic in appearance than his pilot, Alexei has the intense, focused gaze of a man who lives by calculations. He wears thick-rimmed glasses and has a permanent ink stain on his right index finger.

Psychological Profile: Alexei is a perfectionist, obsessed with the mathematical purity of his task. For him, the mission is a complex equation of drift, wind speed, and terminal velocity. The target is not a place, but a set of coordinates on a map. He feels the pressure immensely, knowing that the success of the entire operation rests on a few seconds of precise calculation and the steady release of the bombs. He is deeply patriotic but harbors a quiet fear of the political leadership's willingness to gamble with their lives.

Role-Specific Skills: Proficient in celestial navigation and dead reckoning. Expert in the use of the OPB-11R optical bombsight, capable of calculating release points with exceptional accuracy under immense pressure.

Background Summary: A gifted mathematician from Kiev, Alexei was funneled into the Long-Range Aviation to put his talents to military use. He finds a strange beauty in the cold logic of ballistics. He is unmarried and spends his off-duty hours engrossed in chess and technical manuals, a man more comfortable with numbers than with people.

3. The Soviet Electronic Warfare Officer

Name: Senior Lieutenant Mikhail Voronov

Callsign/Codename: Bear 71-Spark

Age: 26

Nationality: Soviet (Russian)

Affiliation: Soviet Air Forces, Long-Range Aviation

Rank/Position: Senior Lieutenant, Electronic Warfare Officer

Assigned Unit & Location: 362nd Heavy Bomber Aviation Regiment, Dolon Air Base, Kazakh SSR

Physical Description: Young and wiry, with restless energy. His eyes are constantly darting, scanning his array of scopes and receivers. He has a nervous habit of tapping his fingers on his console.

Psychological Profile: Mikhail is a product of the new technological age of warfare. He sees the battle not as a physical confrontation, but as a duel in the electromagnetic spectrum. He is confident, almost arrogant, in his ability to blind and deceive the enemy. His greatest fear is encountering a form of electronic interference he cannot counter, a ghost in the machine that will render his skills useless and leave the bomber defenseless.

Role-Specific Skills: Expert in the operation of the SPS-100 "Reseda" electronic countermeasures suite. Proficient in identifying and jamming enemy radar frequencies, particularly the "Fan Song" engagement radar of the S-75 Dvina.

Background Summary: A graduate of the Voronezh Higher Military Aviation Engineering School, Mikhail was fast-tracked into the EWO role due to his intuitive understanding of complex electronic systems. He is a true believer in the power of Soviet technology and is eager to test his skills against a real-world adversary.

4. The Soviet Air Forces General

Name: General-Colonel Pyotr Volkov

Age: 55

Nationality: Soviet (Russian)

Affiliation: Soviet Air Forces, High Command

Rank/Position: General-Colonel, Commander of Long-Range Aviation

Assigned Unit & Location: Command Center, Dolon Air Base, Kazakh SSR

Physical Description: A broad, imposing figure with a chest full of medals that tell the story of a long and distinguished career. His face is a mask of authority, but his eyes betray the immense strain of command.

Psychological Profile: Volkov is a political animal as much as a military commander. He understands that this mission is a high-stakes gamble ordered by the Politburo. He is personally invested in its success, but also deeply concerned for the men he is sending into the jaws of the dragon. He projects an aura of absolute confidence, but internally, he is wrestling with the grim probabilities and the potential for catastrophic failure.

Role-Specific Skills: Strategic planning and command and control of complex air operations. A deep understanding of political-military dynamics and the art of managing expectations with his superiors in Moscow.

Background Summary: A veteran of the Great Patriotic War, Volkov rose through the ranks on a combination of tactical acumen and political reliability. He has overseen the development of the Soviet Union's strategic bomber force and feels a paternal connection to the men who fly them. He knows that a successful mission will secure his legacy, while failure will mean a quiet retirement to a dacha outside Moscow.

5. The KGB Intelligence Analyst

Name: Viktor Suvorov

Age: 42

Nationality: Soviet (Russian)

Affiliation: KGB, First Chief Directorate

Rank/Position: Analyst, Department of Strategic Intelligence

Assigned Unit & Location: The "Aquarium," KGB Headquarters, Moscow

Physical Description: An unassuming man in a rumpled suit who would be invisible in any crowd. His most notable feature is his piercingly intelligent eyes, which seem to see through deception.

Psychological Profile: Suvorov is a patient, meticulous analyst who trusts data above all else. He has spent months piecing together the puzzle of the Hami bunker from satellite photos, communications intercepts, and human intelligence reports. He is convinced of his assessment's accuracy, but he is also haunted by the human cost of his findings. He knows that his report is the reason men are flying into danger tonight.

Role-Specific Skills: Expert in satellite imagery analysis and the interpretation of signals intelligence. Proficient in creating detailed threat assessments and target packages for military operations.

Background Summary: A former academic specializing in Chinese studies, Suvorov was recruited into the KGB for his sharp intellect and deep understanding of the enemy. He is a man who operates in the shadows, his victories and failures known only to a select few. He will follow the mission's progress from a sterile room in Moscow, a world away from the violence he has set in motion.

6. The Chinese SAM Site Commander

Name: Colonel Lin Wei

Age: 45

Nationality: Chinese

Affiliation: People's Liberation Army Air Force

Rank/Position: Colonel, Commander of the S-75 Dvina SAM Regiment

Assigned Unit & Location: Air Defense Position, near Hami, Xinjiang

Physical Description: A stern, weather-beaten man with a ramrod-straight posture. His uniform is immaculate despite the dusty, remote location of his command.

Psychological Profile: Lin Wei is a staunch defender of the motherland, a true believer in the revolutionary cause. He sees the Soviet "revisionists" as a profound threat and is prepared to die at his post to defend Chinese sovereignty. He is a demanding but respected commander who has drilled his men relentlessly. His greatest challenge is the technological superiority of the enemy, a fact he compensates for with rigorous discipline and tactical ingenuity.

Role-Specific Skills: Expert in the deployment and tactical use of the S-75 Dvina missile system. Proficient in coordinating with early warning radar and directing missile launches under high-stress conditions.

Background Summary: A veteran of the Korean War, Lin Wei has firsthand experience fighting a technologically superior air power. He was selected to command the defense of the Hami facility because of his unwavering loyalty and proven competence. He knows his position is the primary line of defense and that the fate of the strategic command bunker rests on his shoulders.

7. The Chinese Early Warning Radar Operator

Name: Sergeant Chen Jing

Age: 22

Nationality: Chinese

Affiliation: People's Liberation Army Air Force

Rank/Position: Sergeant, Radar Operator

Assigned Unit & Location: P-14 "Tall King" Radar Site, Xinjiang

Physical Description: A young woman with sharp, intelligent eyes and a calm demeanor that belies her age. She has long hair tied back in a neat bun.

Psychological Profile: Chen Jing is diligent and focused, with an almost preternatural ability to discern faint signals from the background noise of her radar scope. She understands the importance of her role as the "eyes" of the air defense network. The vast, empty expanse of the night sky is her domain, and she watches it with a fierce, protective intensity.

Role-Specific Skills: Proficient in the operation of the P-14 long-range VHF radar. Skilled at identifying and tracking high-altitude targets and relaying precise information to the air defense command.

Background Summary: A promising student from a small village, Chen Jing was selected for technical training in the PLAAF. She has a natural aptitude for the work and feels a deep sense of pride in her contribution to the nation's defense. She will be the first person to see the approaching Soviet bombers, and her calm, clear voice on the radio will be the first warning of the impending attack.

8. The Chinese Interceptor Pilot

Name: Captain Zhang Wei

Callsign/Codename: Dragon 1

Age: 29

Nationality: Chinese

Affiliation: People's Liberation Army Air Force

Rank/Position: Captain, Interceptor Pilot

Assigned Unit & Location: Hami Airbase, Xinjiang

Physical Description: Lean and athletic, with the cocksure swagger of a fighter pilot. His eyes are constantly scanning the sky, even when he is on the ground.

Psychological Profile: Zhang Wei is aggressive and fiercely competitive, eager to prove himself in combat. He is confident in the capabilities of his Shenyang J-6, a fast and agile fighter. He is frustrated by the limitations of night interception but is determined to find and destroy the enemy. He views the Soviet pilots as arrogant intruders who have underestimated the will of the Chinese people.

Role-Specific Skills: Expert in high-speed, high-altitude interception tactics. Proficient in the operation of the J-6's limited radar and cannon armament.

Background Summary: A "Red Prince," the son of a high-ranking Party official, Zhang Wei has had a privileged path into the elite ranks of the PLAAF. He is a skilled pilot, but some of his comrades resent his political connections. He is desperate to prove that he earned his position through merit, and a high-altitude bomber kill would be the ultimate validation.

9. The Chinese Ground-Controlled Intercept Officer

Name: Major Fang Jin

Age: 35

Nationality: Chinese

Affiliation: People's Liberation Army Air Force

Rank/Position: Major, Ground-Controlled Intercept Officer

Assigned Unit & Location: Hami Air Defense Command Post

Physical Description: A man with a perpetually furrowed brow, his face illuminated by the dim glow of his radar console. He speaks in a clipped, precise monotone.

Psychological Profile: Fang Jin is the unseen choreographer of the air battle. He is a master of the complex geometry of interception, guiding his pilots through the darkness with a steady stream of verbal commands. He feels the immense pressure of having his pilots' lives in his hands, their survival dependent on the accuracy of his vectors. He is a calm, logical presence in the chaos of the command center.

Role-Specific Skills: Proficient in interpreting radar data and directing interceptor aircraft to their targets. Skilled at managing multiple aircraft and deconflicting airspace in a high-threat environment.

Background Summary: A former mathematics teacher, Fang Jin was recruited into the PLAAF for his exceptional spatial reasoning skills. He has a deep, almost symbiotic relationship with the pilots he controls, a bond of trust forged through countless hours of training. Tonight, that bond will be tested by fire.

10. The Commander of the PLA Command Bunker

Name: General Secretary Yao Li

Age: 60

Nationality: Chinese

Affiliation: People's Liberation Army, Central Military Commission

Rank/Position: General Secretary, Commander of the Western Theater

Assigned Unit & Location: Subterranean Command and Control Bunker, near Hami, Xinjiang

Physical Description: A man of advanced age, but with a sharp, commanding presence. He has a deeply lined face and eyes that have witnessed decades of political and military struggle.

Psychological Profile: Yao Li is a survivor of the Long March, a true believer in Mao Zedong Thought. He is utterly convinced of the inevitability of a war with the Soviet Union and sees this bunker as the key to China's survival. He is ruthless, pragmatic, and unshakably confident in the strength of his fortifications. The idea of a conventional attack is almost laughable to him; his primary concern is the threat of a nuclear strike.

Role-Specific Skills: Strategic command of large-scale military forces. A deep understanding of political indoctrination and maintaining morale under extreme pressure.

Background Summary: A veteran of every major conflict since the founding of the People's Republic, Yao Li is a living legend within the PLA. He was personally tasked by Chairman Mao to oversee the construction and command of the Hami facility. He is deep underground, surrounded by concrete and steel, convinced of his own invulnerability, unaware of the two lumbering giants approaching through the night sky, carrying a storm of conventional fury designed to bring the mountain down upon him.

GRANITE BREAKER

01:00 ZULU

DOLON AIR BASE, KAZAKH SSR, SOVIET UNION

The noise was a physical thing. It was a pressure wave that vibrated deep in the chest cavity, a raw, elemental roar that seemed to tear at the very fabric of the frigid night air. On the windswept concrete of Dolon Air Base, under the indifferent gaze of a billion stars, two beasts of the apocalypse were breathing fire.

The 3M ‘Bison-B’ strategic bomber was not a creature of grace. It was a monument to brutalist aeronautical engineering, a 190-ton sledgehammer designed for a single, terrifying purpose. Its four Dobrynin VD-7 turbojets, buried in the roots of its high-mounted, sharply swept wings, screamed their protest at the Kazakh steppe’s thin atmosphere, chugging kerosene at a prodigious rate. The exhaust, a shimmering wave of heat and unburnt fuel, distorted the harsh floodlights that bathed the hardstand in an unnatural, sterile glare.

In the cockpit of the lead aircraft, designated Bear 71-Lead, Major Ivan Kuznetsov completed his pre-flight checklist with the detached precision of a surgeon. His gloved hands moved with an economy born of a decade spent strapped into this very seat. Engine temps, green. Hydraulic pressure, green. Fuel flow, nominal. Each flick of a switch, each confirmation from his co-pilot, was a small prayer to the god of mechanics.

Kuznetsov, at thirty-eight, had a face that seemed carved from the same unforgiving granite as the Ural Mountains. His pale blue eyes, accustomed to the deep, star-dusted black of the stratosphere, scanned the constellation of glowing green dials. He was a man who trusted his machine, his training, and little else. He especially did not trust the political officers who had delivered the mission briefing four hours ago, their faces shining with a patriotic fervor that never seemed to reach their eyes.

A geological-scale collapse. The phrase echoed in his mind, clinical and obscene. They weren’t just bombing a target; they were being sent to kill a mountain.

“Navigator to command,” a voice crackled in his headset, crisp and devoid of emotion. It was Captain Alexei Orlov, the human calculating machine tucked away in the glazed nose of the Bison, a man more comfortable with slide rules and celestial charts than with people. “Final coordinates locked. Course plotted and verified. We are ready to break granite, Comrade Major.”

Kuznetsov keyed his microphone. “Acknowledged, Navigator. Spark, how is our little secret?”

“The Reseda is whispering sweet nothings, Comrade Major,” came the youthful, almost cocky reply of Senior Lieutenant Mikhail Voronov, the Electronic Warfare Officer. From his station in the fuselage, surrounded by the humming racks of the SPS-100 countermeasures suite, Voronov was the ghost in this machine. His job was to fight a war that couldn't be seen, a battle of manipulated photons and phantom signals. “The Chinese will be listening to static and fairy tales tonight.”

“See that they do, Spark,” Kuznetsov said, his tone flat. He glanced to his right, at the second Bison, Bear 72, sitting like a patient predator a hundred meters away. Its lights blinked once, a silent confirmation. They were ready.

Inside the command bunker at Dolon, the air was thick with stale cigarette smoke and the low hum of ventilation fans. General-Colonel Pyotr Volkov, Commander of Long-Range Aviation, stood before a massive map of Central Asia, his hands clasped behind his back. The map was a sea of Cyrillic notations and grease-pencil vectors, but his eyes were fixed on a single red circle deep within the Xinjiang province of the People’s Republic of China.

Volkov was a bear of a man, his broad chest a billboard for a lifetime of service to the Soviet Union. He had flown Shturmoviks over the ruins of Stalingrad, and the ghosts of that war had never truly left him. Now, he was a political animal, a commander who understood that the orders emanating from the Politburo in Moscow were not requests. They were pronouncements, and his career—his very life—depended on their execution.

“They are spooling up, Comrade General,” an aide reported, his voice hushed with reverence.

Volkov nodded, the movement barely perceptible. He was sending two of his best crews, ten men, on a mission with a probability of success that his own analysts, in hushed and terrified tones, had placed at less than four percent. It was a political statement written in jet fuel and high explosives, a message to Chairman Mao that the border incident at Damansky Island had not been forgotten, and that the Soviet bear still had very long, very sharp claws. He felt the immense weight of the decision, the cold calculus of acceptable losses. Losing one aircraft is acceptable. The words from the directive were a splinter of ice in his gut. He was sacrificing his men on the altar of geopolitics. He just prayed the sacrifice wouldn't be in vain.

“Signal them,” Volkov commanded, his voice a low rumble. “Execute Granite Breaker.”

The order flashed across the airfield. Kuznetsov saw the green light from the control tower and gave a curt nod to his co-pilot. He pushed the four throttles forward, and the Bison lurched, its massive undercarriage groaning under the strain. The roar of the eight engines from the two bombers became a singular, deafening crescendo. Slowly, ponderously, the two metal behemoths began their taxi toward the runway, their wingtips slicing through the frozen air. Inside their cavernous bomb bays, nestled like monstrous steel eggs, sat four FAB-9000M-54 general-purpose bombs. Nine tons of steel and advanced explosives per bomb. Thirty-six tons in total. Enough to crack the world.

01:45 ZULU

P-14 ‘TALL KING’ RADAR SITE, XINJIANG, CHINA

The night was vast and silent. Here, in the desolate, windswept hills east of Hami, the world felt ancient and empty. Sergeant Chen Jing, her long hair tied back in a neat, practical bun, sat hunched over the circular screen of the P-14 Early Warning Radar. The air in the dimly lit van smelled of ozone and hot vacuum tubes. The rhythmic sweep of the green line on her scope was hypnotic, a steady heartbeat in the profound quiet of her post.

Chen Jing was twenty-two, but her eyes held the focused intensity of someone much older. She was the first line of defense, the unblinking eye that watched the northern border. Her job was to see what was coming from the land of the Soviet “revisionists.” For hours, her screen had shown nothing but the usual background clutter, the faint ghosts of meteor trails and atmospheric disturbances.

Then, she saw it.

It was not a sudden flash, but a subtle change in the texture of the noise. Two blips, faint but persistent, painting at the extreme edge of the radar’s range, just over the Mongolian border. They were high. Very high. And they were fast. Her heart gave a single, hard thump against her ribs. This was not a civilian airliner. Their trajectory was too direct, their altitude too strategic.

Her hand, steady and sure, reached for the communications handset. She did not allow excitement or fear into her voice. She was a professional. She was a soldier of the People’s Liberation Army.

“North-Eye to Central Command,” she said, her voice clear and calm. “I have two contacts, bearing three-five-zero. Range, four hundred kilometers. Altitude, estimated eleven thousand meters. Course, one-seven-five. I say again, two high-altitude, high-speed contacts, inbound.”

The response was immediate, a crackle of static followed by a clipped, tense voice. “Central copies, North-Eye. Maintain track. Report every five minutes.”

Chen Jing acknowledged and returned her gaze to the screen. The two blips crept steadily downward, two tiny sparks of light moving with predatory purpose across the green void. The silent, empty night was over. The wolves were coming.

02:30 ZULU

EN ROUTE TO TARGET, ALTITUDE 36,000 FEET

“Contact! We’re being painted!”

The voice of Mikhail Voronov, the EWO, cut through the steady drone of the engines like a shard of glass. The youthful arrogance was gone, replaced by a sharp, metallic edge of adrenaline. On his primary threat receiver, a new symbol had blossomed: a bright, angry strobe identified by the system’s logic as a ‘Tall King’ VHF acquisition radar.

“I see it, Spark,” Kuznetsov replied, his knuckles white on the control yoke. The Bison felt heavy and unresponsive at this altitude, flying at the very edge of its performance envelope in what pilots morbidly called “coffin corner.” “They see us. Right on schedule.”

“Working on it, Comrade Major,” Voronov said. The air in the cockpit suddenly felt thick, charged with unspoken tension. Voronov’s fingers danced across his console, activating the powerful SPS-100 jamming suite. He was throwing a blizzard of electronic noise back at the Chinese radar, trying to obscure their two tiny, vulnerable aircraft in a storm of phantom returns and false signals. “Sending them a sky full of ghosts. Let’s see if they can find the real ones.”

Alexei Orlov, the navigator, remained hunched over his bombsight, seemingly oblivious to the electronic duel taking place. His world had shrunk to a set of crosshairs and a series of calculations on a notepad strapped to his knee. “Wind shear at this altitude is seven knots greater than forecast,” he announced, his voice a dispassionate murmur. “Adjusting drift calculations. Target acquisition in forty-seven minutes.”

Kuznetsov grunted in acknowledgment. Forty-seven minutes. Forty-seven minutes to fly through the teeth of the Chinese air defense network. He scanned the blackness outside. There was nothing to see but the faint, reassuring glow of Bear 72’s formation lights off his port wing. Ten men, flying in a straight, predictable line toward a target that was now wide awake and waiting for them. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a feeling that the two bombers were utterly alone against an entire nation.

HAMI AIR DEFENSE COMMAND POST, XINJIANG, CHINA

“The signal is dirty.”

Major Fang Jin stared at the large, vertical plotting board where two women were manually updating the intruders’ position based on reports from the radar sites. The plots, once solid, were now flickering. The P-14’s signal was being degraded by powerful jamming.

“They are professionals,” Fang Jin muttered to himself. A former mathematics teacher, he saw the battle as a problem of geometry, a deadly theorem playing out in three dimensions. The enemy’s move was jamming. His counter-move had to be precise.

“Dispatch the interceptors,” he ordered, his voice cutting through the tense quiet of the command post. “Vector Dragon Flight to intercept point delta. Tell them to burn through the jamming. I want visual confirmation.”

He turned his attention to another officer. “Alert Colonel Lin. Tell him his battery is to come to full combat readiness. No emissions until the targets are within the engagement envelope. I don’t want him to give them a sniff of his radar until it’s time to kill them.”

HAMI AIRBASE, XINJIANG, CHINA

The klaxon’s blare sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through Captain Zhang Wei. He was already in his flight suit, playing a listless game of cards with his wingman. He threw the cards down and sprinted across the tarmac toward his Shenyang J-6 fighter, a machine he knew better than he knew his own brother. The J-6 was a copy of the Soviet MiG-19, a brutal, powerful interceptor, a “pilot’s aircraft” with two roaring engines and a reputation for speed.1

As his ground crew scrambled to get him strapped in, Zhang Wei grinned with feral anticipation. He was a “Red Prince,” the son of a Party grandee, and he burned with a desperate need to prove his worth. A high-altitude bomber kill, a Soviet strategic bomber, would be more than a victory; it would be an ascension.

“Dragon 1, you are cleared for takeoff,” the tower radioed.

Zhang Wei pushed the throttles to their stops, and the J-6 leaped down the runway. He was climbing at a ferocious rate, a silver dart rocketing into the blackness, his eyes scanning the dark canopy above. His radar was primitive, almost useless at this altitude, especially against the powerful jamming he’d been warned about. This would be a visual hunt. A search for a shadow against the stars.

“Dragon 1 to Control,” he barked into his mask. “Where are the revisionist bastards?”

“Climb to twelve thousand meters, Dragon 1,” Major Fang Jin’s calm, steady voice came back. “Vector three-four-five. They should be ahead of you. Be advised, they are hiding in a storm of electronic lies. Trust your eyes.”

03:15 ZULU

APPROACHING TARGET

“Multiple new contacts! They’ve launched fighters!” Voronov’s voice was strained. His scopes were a chaotic mess of jamming feedback and the faint, intermittent signals of the J-6 interceptors climbing to meet them. “And… Comrade Major… I have a new emission. A ‘Fan Song.’ It’s a SAM battery.”

The blood ran cold in Kuznetsov’s veins. The ‘Fan Song’ was the engagement radar for the S-75 Dvina missile system.2 The SA-2 Guideline. The same system that had brought down Gary Powers’ U-2 spy plane a decade earlier. It was a killer of high-altitude aircraft.

“They’re active,” Kuznetsov said, his voice grim. “They’re waiting for us to get closer.”

On the ground, in a camouflaged bunker dug into a hillside, Colonel Lin Wei watched his own radar screen. The jamming was powerful, but through the electronic snow, he could see the two large, slow-moving targets. They were holding their course, steady and resolute. Arrogant.

“They are in the envelope,” his fire control officer reported, his voice tight.

Lin Wei allowed himself a thin, cruel smile. He had drilled his men for this moment until their hands bled. He would not fail. “Track the lead target,” he commanded. “When I give the word, you will fire a salvo of two missiles. Then you will immediately track the second target and prepare a second salvo. Do not wait for confirmation. Fire and re-target. Understood?”

“Understood, Comrade Colonel!”

High above, Zhang Wei was cursing in his cockpit. The sky was empty. He was flying through the coordinates given to him by ground control, but there was nothing. Just the endless black and the faint, shimmering curtain of the Milky Way. The Soviet bombers were ghosts.

03:22 ZULU

THE BOMB RUN

“Five minutes to release,” Alexei Orlov announced, his voice a steady anchor in the swirling chaos of the moment.

“Colonel Lin, the lead target is entering the optimal kill zone,” the voice on the radio said in his ear.

Kuznetsov took a deep breath, the recycled air tasting metallic and stale. This was it. The culmination of the entire mission. The moment where the cold calculus of the generals in Moscow met the unforgiving reality of physics and steel.

“Bomb bay doors, open,” he commanded.

A low hydraulic groan shuddered through the airframe. Far below them, two massive panels on the Bison’s belly swung open, exposing the four dark, cylindrical shapes of the FAB-9000s to the screaming, sub-zero wind. The aircraft bucked slightly as its aerodynamics changed.

“One minute to release,” Orlov said. He was peering intently into the rubber eyepiece of his OPB-11R bombsight, his hands making minute adjustments. The fate of the mission rested on his eyes and the steadiness of his hands in these final seconds.

“They’ve opened their bomb doors,” the Chinese fire control officer reported to Colonel Lin. “They are commencing their attack run.”

Lin Wei’s eyes narrowed. “Fire,” he said, his voice cold as ice.

Two massive, telephone-pole-sized missiles ignited their boosters with a deafening roar, leaping from their launch rails on tongues of brilliant white flame. They clawed their way into the night sky, accelerating rapidly, trailing thick plumes of smoke as they climbed toward their unsuspecting prey.

In the cockpit of Bear 71-Lead, the world suddenly went insane.

“MISSILE LAUNCH! MISSILE LAUNCH!” Voronov screamed, his voice cracking with sheer terror. “TWO MISSILES, INBOUND! BREAK! BREAK!”

Kuznetsov didn’t hesitate. He slammed the control yoke hard to the right, throwing the 190-ton bomber into a gut-wrenching bank that it was never designed to perform. Alarms blared, a cacophony of electronic shrieking. The airframe groaned in protest, rivets straining against their moorings. He could feel the massive weight of the aircraft fighting him, wanting to fall out of the sky.

“Thirty seconds to release!” Orlov yelled, his face pressed hard against his bombsight, trying to keep the crosshairs on the invisible point on the mountain below.

“I can’t hold it!” the co-pilot shouted, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at the airspeed indicator plummeting toward the stall line.

Kuznetsov could see the missiles now, two impossibly bright stars climbing toward them at supersonic speed. His mind worked with ice-cold clarity. He could break and evade, and the mission would fail. Or he could hold the course for a few more seconds.

“Hold your station, Alexei!” he roared. “Give me the drop!”

He leveled the wings, the bomber shuddering violently. The two missiles, guided by the ‘Fan Song’ radar beam, adjusted their course, homing in on the massive target.

“Ten seconds!” Orlov counted down. “Five… four… three… two… one… BOMBS AWAY!”

Kuznetsov felt a profound lurch as eighteen tons of ordnance fell away from his aircraft. The Bison, suddenly lighter, surged upward. At the same instant, he threw the yoke hard over again, pulling the bomber into the tightest possible turn.

The first S-75 missile detonated.

It didn't hit them directly. Its proximity fuse triggered a hundred meters below their port wing. The sky erupted in a blinding flash of white-hot light, and a shockwave of unimaginable force slammed into the Bison. The aircraft was thrown onto its side, its port engines sputtering as they ingested shrapnel. A sheet of metal peeled away from the wing, vanishing into the darkness. Red lights flashed across the entire cockpit console.

The second missile shot past them, its rocket motor a demonic hiss, failing to acquire a lock in the chaos of the first explosion and Voronov’s desperate, last-second jamming burst.

“Report!” Kuznetsov yelled, fighting to regain control of his crippled aircraft.

“Port engines one and two are out! We have a fire on the port wing! Hydraulic pressure dropping!” the co-pilot screamed.

From his station, Voronov saw the second bomber, Bear 72, successfully release its own bombs and begin its own desperate turn away from the target.

Far below, the four FAB-9000M-54 bombs, silent and patient, fell through the night. They were not aimed at the SAM site, or the radar station, or the interceptors. They were aimed at a single, mathematically precise point on the surface of a sleeping mountain.

03:24 ZULU

THE MOUNTAIN

General Secretary Yao Li was reviewing troop readiness reports in his command center, buried a thousand meters beneath the surface. He was a man convinced of his own invulnerability, encased in a fortress of concrete and steel designed to withstand a ten-megaton nuclear blast. The reports of a conventional air raid were a nuisance, a fly buzzing outside a sealed tomb. He had complete faith in Colonel Lin and the air defense network.

The first bomb impacted.

It wasn't the sound that came first. It was a tremor, a deep, violent shudder that ran through the very rock of the mountain. Lights flickered. Dust rained down from the ceiling of the command bunker. Yao Li looked up from his papers, a flicker of annoyance on his face.

Then the second bomb hit. And the third. And the fourth. All within a few hundred meters of each other, their impacts separated by milliseconds.

The effect was not merely an explosion. It was a focused, catastrophic release of energy. Nine tons of TNT equivalent, multiplied by four, delivered in a kinetic sledgehammer blow. The shockwaves did not dissipate. They traveled down into the granite, converging, amplifying, finding fault lines and fissures in the rock.

The mountain groaned.

Deep in the command bunker, the initial tremor became a violent, world-ending earthquake. The reinforced concrete walls cracked. Steel support beams twisted and screamed under the strain. The lights went out, plunging the bunker into absolute, terrifying darkness, punctuated by the shrieks of his staff and the sound of the world coming apart. General Secretary Yao Li, the survivor of the Long March, the living legend of the PLA, was thrown from his chair as the ceiling of his impregnable fortress began to collapse.

High above, in the burning, crippled wreck of Bear 71-Lead, Ivan Kuznetsov wrestled with the controls. He had lost two engines and most of his port wing was a ruin, but he was still flying.

“Comrade Major,” Alexei Orlov said, his voice quiet, awestruck. He was looking back, through a blister window. “The target.”

Kuznetsov risked a glance. He couldn't see the mountain itself. But he could see the effect. A vast cloud of dust and rock was rising into the night sky, illuminated from within by the faint, dying glow of the fire on his own wing. It looked as if a volcano had just been born.

His radio crackled. It was the pilot of Bear 72. “Lead, we are clear. We are turning for home. What is your status?”

Before Kuznetsov could answer, a new voice, sharp and clear, cut through the static. It was Mikhail Voronov.

“New threat! Another missile launch! They’ve re-acquired us! It’s tracking us, Comrade Major! It’s tracking us!”

Kuznetsov looked forward, into the blackness. He could see it. A single, bright point of light, climbing with terrible purpose, directly for them. He was out of altitude, out of airspeed, and his bomber was dying. There would be no escape this time.

03:25 ZULU

34,000 FEET OVER XINJIANG

There was no time for tactics. There was no room for a masterful evasion that would be written into the annals of the Soviet Air Forces. There was only the brutal, unforgiving physics of the situation: a crippled, wallowing bomber and a guided missile closing at Mach 3.5.

Major Ivan Kuznetsov did not waste his final seconds on fear. His entire being was focused on a single, desperate objective.

“Bail out! Eject! All crew, eject now!” he roared into the intercom, his voice a raw command that brooked no argument. He grabbed the ejection handle for his own seat but did not pull it. A captain, even of a dying metal beast, was last to leave.

“But Comrade Major–” the co-pilot began, his hand frozen.

“THAT IS AN ORDER!” Kuznetsov bellowed, wrenching the yoke with all his strength, trying to keep the nose from dropping, trying to buy his men two or three more seconds of stable flight.

In his station, Mikhail Voronov’s hands were a blur. He was throwing every last watt of power from his damaged SPS-100 suite at the incoming missile, cycling through jamming techniques with a speed born of pure desperation. It was like trying to stop a tidal wave with a bucket. The ‘Fan Song’ radar on the ground had a clean, solid lock. His electronic ghosts were being burned away by the sheer power of the guidance beam. His screen showed the missile’s signal strength growing exponentially. It was a line rocketing toward infinity.

Alexei Orlov, the precise, mathematical navigator, was fumbling with the latches of his escape hatch, his charts and calculations scattered around him like fallen leaves. The cold logic of ballistics had been replaced by the primal chaos of survival.

Kuznetsov saw the missile in his peripheral vision. It was no longer a star. It was a sun, a brilliant, malevolent point of magnesium-white fire. He braced for the impact. His last conscious thought was not of the Politburo, or of the mission, or even of the mountain they had just broken. It was a fleeting, crystal-clear image of his wife’s face, smiling at him over a cup of tea in their small apartment in Saratov.

The S-75 missile struck the Bison’s right wing root.

The explosion was absolute. The half-million pounds of aircraft, laden with jet fuel, simply ceased to exist in any coherent form. A fireball of incandescent orange and roiling black smoke blossomed in the night sky, a second, more terrible sun. The shockwave, even more powerful than the first, tore the fuselage to pieces. Wings cartwheeled away from the main wreckage, trailing flames. The tail section, with its proud red star, sheared off and began its long, silent tumble toward the dark earth below. The ten men of Bear 71-Lead were consumed, their lives extinguished in a microsecond of heat and force.

S-75 DVINA SAM SITE

“Impact! Direct hit! Target destroyed!”

The jubilant shout echoed through Colonel Lin Wei’s command bunker. His men erupted in cheers, their faces, moments before tense and pale in the green glow of the consoles, now flush with victory. Lin Wei allowed himself a moment of fierce pride. He had done it. He had downed a Soviet strategic bomber, a beast that had arrogantly violated their sovereign airspace. He keyed his microphone to the Hami Air Defense Command Post.

“Central Command, this is Fire-Dragon. Lead intruder is destroyed. I repeat, lead intruder is destroyed. We are tracking the second target, which is now egressing on a course of three-five-five. Requesting permission to engage.”

The reply from Major Fang Jin was clipped. “Negative, Fire-Dragon. Negative engagement. The second target is moving out of your optimal envelope. Conserve your assets. Dragon Flight is moving to intercept.”

Lin Wei scowled. He wanted the second kill. But an order was an order. “Understood, Central.”

He stepped outside the bunker into the cold, thin air. The smell of spent rocket propellant was sharp and acrid. High in the sky, he could still see the faint, fading glow of the funeral pyre he had created. A masterpiece of air defense. A perfect execution.

It was then that he felt it.

It started not as a sound, but as a low-frequency vibration through the soles of his boots. A deep, resonant hum that seemed to be coming from the very bones of the earth. He had lived in earthquake-prone regions before, but this was different. This was a steady, powerful thrumming, like a colossal generator coming to life deep underground. The ground beneath him trembled, not violently, but with a sickening, persistent shudder.

His radio operator stuck his head out of the bunker door, his face ashen. “Comrade Colonel! We have lost all contact with the Western Theater Command Bunker.”

Lin Wei stared at him. “What? Communications failure? The jamming?”

“No, sir,” the operator said, his voice trembling. “The lines are dead. All of them. The landline, the high-frequency radio…everything. It’s just…silence.”

Lin Wei’s gaze drifted from the fading fireball in the sky to the direction of the Hami mountains, hidden in the darkness. The low, terrifying vibration continued, a deep, planetary groan. The elation of his victory evaporated, replaced by a cold, gnawing dread. What had those bombers dropped? What had they truly been aiming for? He had won the battle in the sky, but the silence from the mountain felt like the sound of a far greater, more catastrophic defeat.

COCKPIT OF J-6 INTERCEPTOR ‘DRAGON 1’

Captain Zhang Wei saw the kill. One moment, the sky ahead of him was an empty black canvas. The next, it was filled with a colossal, expanding fireball that momentarily turned night into day.

“Yee-haw!” he shouted into his mask, the Americanism learned from a contraband film strip slipping out in his excitement. “Control, Dragon 1, I see the kill! The bomber is gone! I see a second aircraft, turning north! I am in pursuit!”

He had a visual. The second Bison, Bear 72, was a dark shape against the stars, banking hard for the border. No more hiding in electronic storms. This was a simple chase. A wolf after a wounded sheep.

“He is mine, Control,” Zhang Wei growled, pushing his throttles into full afterburner. The J-6 surged forward, a predator closing on its prey.

COCKPIT OF 3M ‘BISON-B’ BEAR 72

The crew of Bear 72 had watched it happen in horrified silence. One moment, their lead ship was there, a familiar shadow with its steady formation lights. The next, it was a star that had fallen into the sky.

“They’re gone,” the co-pilot whispered, his voice choked with disbelief. “Kuznetsov… they’re all gone.”

The aircraft commander of Bear 72, a stoic, unflappable Major named Dmitri Raskov, gritted his teeth. There was no time for grief. Grief was a luxury you could afford only when you were back on the ground, swimming in a bottle of vodka. Right now, grief was a distraction that would get them all killed.

“Navigator, time to the border,” Raskov snapped.

“Fifty-two minutes at current speed, Comrade Major,” came the reply.

“EWO, what’s out there?”

“The SAM site is quiet,” the electronic warfare officer reported, his voice shaky. “But… I have a new contact. A fighter. Closing fast from our six o’clock low. It’s one of the J-6s. He saw the explosion. He’s coming for us.”

Raskov’s eyes scanned his instruments. They had successfully dropped their payload. The primary objective was, theoretically, complete. Now, only one thing mattered: Constraint Two. Both aircraft must exit Chinese airspace. A constraint they had already failed. Now, it was about saving one.

“Full power,” Raskov ordered. “Get us as high and as fast as this bird will go. EWO, you make us invisible. I don’t care how you do it. Use every trick you have. We are not joining Major Kuznetsov tonight.”

The four Dobrynin jets spooled to their maximum thrust. The second Bison accelerated, a desperate, lumbering beast racing for the imagined safety of the Soviet border. Behind them, gaining with terrifying speed, Captain Zhang Wei lined up the bomber in his gunsight. The hunt had just begun.

03:28 ZULU

THE BORDER RUN

The race was a study in contrasts. Behind, Captain Zhang Wei’s Shenyang J-6 was a creature of pure predatory grace, its twin Tumansky engines in full afterburner, gulping fuel at an alarming rate as it sliced through the thin, cold air. Ahead, the Myasishchev 3M ‘Bison-B’ was a wounded titan, its four turbojets screaming at their limits, pushing the massive airframe through the stratosphere with sheer, brute force. It was a dagger chasing a sledgehammer.

“He’s gaining,” the EWO on Bear 72 reported, his voice tight with tension. “Range, five kilometers and closing. He’s not using his radar; he’s on a pure visual track. My jamming is irrelevant.”

“Tail gunner, are you awake back there?” Major Dmitri Raskov’s voice was unnaturally calm, a deliberate effort to keep the rising panic in the cockpit at bay.

Deep in the tail of the aircraft, in a lonely, cramped turret, a young sergeant named Pavel clutched the spade grips of his twin 23mm cannons. He had watched the fireball of Bear 71 and had been silently reciting the Lord’s Prayer, a habit beaten out of him in training but one that returned in moments of sheer terror.

“I am here, Comrade Major,” Pavel’s voice crackled over the intercom. “I have him in my sight. He is… beautiful.”

Zhang Wei, in his cockpit, was grinning. This was the pinnacle of his existence. The lumbering Soviet bomber filled his windscreen. He was closing the distance with contemptuous ease. He armed his 30mm cannons, his thumb resting on the firing stud. A few more seconds, a perfect deflection shot into the wing root or the cockpit, and he would be a hero of the People’s Republic.

“Pavel,” Raskov said, his voice low and intense. “When he gets to one kilometer, you fire. Don’t try to hit him. Just put a wall of steel in front of him. Make him fly through it.”

“Understood, Comrade Major.”

Zhang Wei’s J-6 surged forward. 1.5 kilometers. 1.2 kilometers. He could clearly see the tail turret of the bomber, the red star painted on the massive fin. He brought his pipper up, leading the target slightly.

“Now, Pavel! Fire now!”

The rear of the Bison erupted in a torrent of orange-white tracer fire. The twin Afanasev Makarov cannons chattered, spitting out a hundred rounds a second. It was not a precise stream, but a violent, whipping hose of explosive shells that filled the air between the two aircraft.

Zhang Wei swore and instinctively broke hard left, the J-6 rolling onto its side. He hadn’t expected such a volume of fire. He saw several tracers flash past his canopy, close enough to make him flinch. He was a duelist, a fencer; this was like trying to fence with a man swinging a flail.

“He broke off!” Pavel shouted, a note of triumph in his voice.

“He’ll be back,” Raskov said grimly. “Reload and stay ready.”

Zhang Wei stabilized his aircraft, his heart hammering against his ribs. The peasant in the tail was lucky. Now the arrogance was gone, replaced by cold fury. He swung his fighter around in a wide arc, positioning himself for another attack, this time from a high-six o’clock position, a dive that would make it harder for the tail gunner to track him. As he climbed, his eyes fell on his fuel gauge. The needles were dropping with frightening speed. The afterburners were draining his tanks dry. He had maybe two minutes of combat fuel left before he would hit ‘bingo’—the point of no return.

On the ground, the tremors had stopped. Colonel Lin Wei stood in the profound and unnerving silence, staring at the dark mountain range. A cold wind whipped dust around him. The victory over the bomber felt like a distant, irrelevant memory. The silence from the command bunker was no longer a communications issue; it was a presence. A void.

“Get me a jeep,” he commanded a subordinate, his voice hard. “And two men with rifles. We are going to the perimeter of Sector Gamma.”

“But Colonel, that is the command facility’s outer security zone–”

“I know what it is,” Lin Wei snapped. “I want to see it with my own eyes.” He had a horrifying suspicion that the mountain he had been ordered to defend no longer contained what he thought it did. He suspected the Soviets hadn’t missed their target at all. He suspected they had hit it perfectly.

The J-6 fell out of the sky like a hawk. Zhang Wei initiated his dive, the bomber swelling in his gunsight once more. This time, there would be no mistakes.

“Here he comes! High-six!” Pavel yelled. He swung his cannons up, the motors straining at the limit of their traverse.

Raskov did the only thing he could. “Jink! Hard to port!”

The big bomber lurched sideways, skidding through the air. The maneuver threw off Pavel’s aim, but it also threw off Zhang Wei’s. His burst of cannon fire stitched across the Bison’s broad right wing, punching a series of dark holes in the aluminum skin, but missing the engines or fuselage. A warning light for fuel loss in the outer wing tank began to flash on Raskov’s console.

Zhang Wei pulled out of his dive, screaming past the bomber. He pulled back on the stick to climb for a third pass when a series of sharp, angry beeps filled his ears. The bingo fuel warning. He had five minutes of fuel left, just enough to throttle back and make the long, ignominious glide back to Hami airbase. He could try one more pass, a quick, desperate snapshot, and risk flaming out over the unforgiving terrain. Or he could return home, a victor with one kill, but with his primary target escaping.

He slammed his fist against his canopy in frustration. He watched as the lumbering Bison, trailing a thin vapor of fuel from its punctured wing, continued its steady, relentless flight north. It was slipping away.

“Dragon 1 to Control,” he spat into his radio. “I am disengaging. I am bingo fuel. The second target is damaged but will escape across the border. Returning to base.”

He throttled back his engines and turned his silver fighter south, leaving the wounded bomber to limp its way home.

04:25 ZULU

COMMAND CENTER, DOLON AIR BASE

General-Colonel Pyotr Volkov had not moved from his position in front of the map for three hours. The cigarette smoldering in his hand had burned down to the filter. The room was silent, the previous tension having given way to a grim, patient vigil.

The voice of a communications officer cut through the silence. “Comrade General! We have them! It’s Bear 72! They have just crossed the border into Soviet airspace!”

A collective sigh of relief went through the room. Volkov closed his eyes for a brief moment. One crew was coming home.

“What is their status?” Volkov asked, his voice steady.

“They report heavy damage to the starboard wing, fuel leak contained. All crew are safe. They report… they report Bear 71 was destroyed by enemy action. No survivors.” The officer’s voice faltered at the end.

Volkov’s face remained a mask of stone, but a deep ache settled in his chest. Ten men. Ten good men. He looked at the map, at the red circle deep inside China. The mission had succeeded on paper. The target package had been delivered. Operation Granite Breaker was complete. The political objective had been met with a hammer blow. But as he stood there, shrouded in the smoke of his cigarette, he could only feel the profound, chilling weight of the cost. He had ordered men to kill a mountain, and the mountain had claimed ten of his own in return. He wondered, with a sense of deep foreboding, what horrors they had truly awakened in the silent, sleeping rock of the Hami range. The telex from Moscow would call it a victory. Volkov knew it was something far more complicated, and far more terrifying.