Green Skies (2)

“To the unidentified F-14 pilots... I have been ordered to find, and if necessary destroy you."


Green Skies (2)
by anonymous111.2

Continued from Part I, Part II, Part III.

Thirty thousand feet above northern Iran.

Inside the cockpit of an Iran Air Boeing 727, two pilots are quietly maneuvering the passenger plane through the night sky. Captain Shahram Nasseri and his copilot Payman Izadi try to busy themselves with routine cockpit chores, but their tension is clearly visible. They exchange nervous glances at one another. Every few seconds, one of the men looks at his window to look at the two fighter escorts that are flanking them on both sides. Izadi’s headset is lowered and is hanging lose around his neck. A voice can be heard trying to repeatedly hail the flight. It’s an airport tower.

“Iran Air Boeing 727, can you hear me, over.”

The two men look at each other. Nasseri breaks the silence.

“They told us not to respond. That’s what we’re going to do.”

Izadi nods in agreement.

Suddenly, and without a knock on the cockpit door, a heavyset, bearded and tall man in his late 40’s walks in. Commander Assadollah Rahmati is tired and disheveled. He hasn’t had much sleep for the past two days, and his puffy and bloodshot eyes are a testament to his fatigue. He has come to check to the progress of their flight. He too is nervous. He keeps raising and lowering the satellite phone that he is holding in his right hand, as if he wants to make a call, but then decides against it. With his left hand, he keeps adjusting the strap on the Kalashnikov that is slung over his shoulder. He also has a sidearm clipped to his belt in a leather holster. He barks at the pilots with a stern tone.

“What’s your altitude?”

Nasseri responds without looking at him.

“Thirty thousand feet.”

Rahmati is furious. “But I told you to keep low. They can pick us up on their radars.”

Nasseri loses patience, and turns toward Rahmati with frustration. “It’s dark. There are mountains down there, and there is a severe weather system below us. I have to stay above that storm. Otherwise, we will hit something and will all die. What are those fighter escorts there for, anyway?”

Before Rahmati can respond, his satellite phone rings. He gives the pilots an angry look, leaves the cockpit and walks into the aircraft’s small services area and answers the phone.

After a few seconds of listening to the person on the other end of the conversation, the expression on Rahmati’s face becomes one of rage and dismay, and he starts to scream into the phone, loudly enough to be heard by the pilot and his first officer.

“What do you mean they are refusing us entry into Russian airspace? Has he forgotten about the five million dollars in cash that was delivered to him just a week ago?”

He impatiently pauses to hear the response, but then seems to interrupt the person.

“Circumstances have change?!! They have changed? You tell Sergey that he was paid just so that he could help us in case of this inevitable change.”

Izadi and Nasseri exchange wary looks inside the cockpit. Nasseri turns to glance at Rahmati, whose face is beet red and is now joined by two other Kalashnikov holding bearded men. He has hung up the phone, but is still clutching it against his face, and staring down at the floor, contemplating what to do next. The other two men are silently watching him.

Nasseri then stand up and tries to walk out of the cockpit. Rahmati sees him and achrges into the cockpit, pulling out his sidearm. He then points and holds the weapon at Nasseri’s forehead.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Nasseri is frightened, but remains calm. He can feel Rahmati’s breath on his face, and can see the beads of nervous swaet dripping down his forehead.

“I was going to the bathroom.”

Rahmati presses the barrel of the gun tighter against Nasseri’s forehead. “You will do no such thing Captain. Now listen to me and listen to me good. You’re going to sit back down in that pilots’ seat and fly this plane until I tell you to stop. If you don’t, I will put a bullet in your skull. Do we have an understanding?”

Nasseri calmly nods.

“Now sit back down!”

As Nasseri turns around to take his pilot’s seat again, he takes a glance at the passenger cabin through the cockpit door. There, he sees four turbaned clergy and a civilian. They are former top government figures, and he recognizes them all. He is astonished at the high value human cargo that he is carrying in his aircraft. There are also about a dozen other machine gun carrying men onboard, some of whom seem to be conversing in Arabic. This is the first opportunity for him to have seen his passengers as he was locked in his cockpit by Rahmati while they were boarding.

Suddenly, Izadi hears a communication in his headset. It is no longer the tower that wants to communicate with him. It is on a different channel. It’s the commanding pilot of the two fighter escorts. He asks to speak to Rahmati.

Izadi turns toward Rahmati, removes the headset from around his neck and extends it to him. “They want to speak to you”.

Rahmati grabs the headset from the pilot, placing on end on his right ear.

“What is it”, he demands.

The pilot responds. “We have company.”

Rahmati is startled.

The pilot on the radio remains professionally calm. “They don’t seem to be a match. It looks like a couple of Mig’s and a couple of F-5’s. We’ll take care of them.”

Rahmati nods as of the pilots can see him. The two F-14’s on either side of the plane then turn away from the 727 at a 70 degree angle, their bellies exposed to Izadi and Nasseri, revealing their missile loaded pylons.

A short while earlier.

With Ahangar’s aircraft in the lead, the formation of four fighter jets is speeding toward its target. The pilots’ silence is interrupted by an impromptu call from Parsaa.

“I think it’s best for us to maintain radio silence as much as possible. They are operating on the same channel as you know. Wouldn’t you agree Major?”

A few seconds go by, but there is no response.

Parsaa is impatient. He calls again. “Major, would you confirm?”

A few more seconds go by. Ahangar is looking out of his aircraft’s canopy at the night sky. He reluctantly responds over the radio. “I agree. Let’s cut the chatter to a minimum. We should also switch to our auxiliary channel. There is less of a chance that they will be monitoring that one.”

The other pilots respond almost in unison. “Acknowledged.”

As soon as that communication ends, two red lights begin to blink on Ahangar’s instrument panel and a loud alarm begins to go off.

Parsaa is first one screaming into the radio. “They see us. I’m lit up, their locking missiles, and we can’t even see them. Damn those F-14’s!”

The F-5 pilots call in their distress as well. “We’re lit to.”

Ahangar takes charge, and begins to sternly command his men. “I am too. Take some evasive maneuvers, release those flares and chaffs.”

Parsaa tries to yell out some instructions as well. “Climb, Climb, Climb.”

Ahangar shouts him down. “We have them on radar now. Stay on target.”

One of the F-5 pilots responds. “But they will fire soon.”

“Stay on target”, shouts a calm, but determined Ahangar.

Another buzzer goes off in Parssa’s plane.

“They just fired.”

Ahangar looks at his instrument panel. “I see it. It’s only one. They must not have a lot of missiles. Release those flares.”

There is a desperate call from one of the F-5 pilots. “Mine is malfunctioning. Flares aren’t working.”

“Get out of there... ” Before Parsaa can complete his sentence, a glowing stream of fire, metal and smoke zooms below, and to the starboard side of his aircraft, and heads toward the F-5’s in the rear.

Parsaa knows that one of the hapless F-5’s, more likely the one with the malfunctioning flare will be hit. He screams a frustrated scream into his radio. “It’s going to hit you, eject, eject, eject... ”

Within a second after Parsaa’s plea, the missile slams into the malfunctioning F-5 and transforms it into a huge ball of fire.

“Did they eject?” Ahangar’s voice is filled with anger and desperation.

No response.

“Did they eject?”

“Negative. I didn’t see any parachutes deploy.” The communication is from the other


Parsaa is screaming into his radio again. “That was a Phoenix that just went by. I saw it. I thought we didn’t have any of those anymore.”

“They must have kept a few for their rainy day.”

As Ahangar finishes that sentence, a buzzer goes off again in his aircraft.

“Incoming. They just fired another one. Take evasive action.”

The aircraft scatter in all directions.

The F-5 pilot is now calling for help. “It’s coming right at us. I don’t think we can get away.”

“Eject, eject!”

Ahangar looks to his right side after issuing the command. He can see the subtle glow of the two ejection seats as the two F-5 pilots shoot into the freezing cold of the night sky. There’s another strike, and the F-5 is pulverized in the air. The illumination caused by the explosion helps Ahangar see the two pilots parachuting to the ground below.

He radios to Parsaa. “Radio in their coordinates. And then follow me.”

“Yes, sir. I’m ready for these low lives.”

The two Mig’s rush toward the F-14’s.

“Both of those missiles were fired from the same plane. He’s out of missiles. We’re going to go for him first.”

“OK. But what about the other one?”

“I think he’s waiting to see whose side he should be on.”

“I see our target on the radar. He’s turning around and coming toward us. He is going to slam himself into us.”

“No, he’s going to fire his cannon. Get your missiles ready and fire on my mark.”

“He’s getting close.”

“Not yet.”

“He’s too close Major.”

“Fire NOW.”

On Ahangar’s mark, both men fire their air to air missiles at the incoming F-14. Two missiles slice into the air and zoom toward the F-14. At the same time, the F-14 opens up a stream of cannon fire. The rounds light up the night sky as they go between the two Mig’s. A barrage of cannon rounds strike Parsaa’s aircraft and slice through it, exiting on the other side of the palne. Thick black smoke begins to rise from Parsaa’s plane.

“I’m hit, I’m hit. Those sons of...”

The F-14 tries to evade the incoming missiles. It releases its flares and chaffs, but it’s too late. While one missile goes wide, and to the left of the F-14, the other one scores a direct hot into the craft’s afterburner. The F-14 is set ablaze and its two pilots eject into the night sky.

Parsaa is ecstatic. “Yes. That’s right you traitors. I hope you freeze to death down there in those mountains.”

Ahangar is more subdued. “You may want to control your excitement my dear Ali. You’re not in a much better predicament than those two poor souls.”

Parsaa turns around in his cockpit and tries to survey the damage to his aircraft. All kinds of lights and buzzers are going off in his cockpit.

“You may be right Major.”

“Go back to the base. You can’t do anything else out here, and pretty soon you will join those two bastards down there in the freezing mountains.”

“But I can’t leave you out here. There’s the other F-14 that’s still out there.”

“Listen to me Ali. You must turn around and return to the base. I will deal with the other one. Do it now before it’s too late.”

Parsaa is silent.

“Go now. That’s an order.”

Parsaa reluctantly gives in. “Fine. You take care out here... God will be with you.”

With that, Parsaa veers away from Ahangar’s craft and begins to head back to the base.

Ahangar moves forward toward the other F-14. Hs knows that he is outgunned, but deep down inside he also knows that the pilots of that aircraft will not sacrifice themselves for a lost cause. They have just been too quiet. He opens up a channel to them.

“To the unidentified F-14 pilots. This is Major Ahangar of the Iranian Air Force. I have been ordered to find, and if necessary destroy you. You may think that you have the upper hand in this fight, but know this: you will not live to see another day even if you shoot me down. Ground radar will track you down and you will be shut down. Don’t make a mistake. There is way out for you. Your superiors have fallen, and the last remnants of their brutality are being cleansed from our society. You have a choice to make now. You can either follow your masters to a dead end, or you can end this right here and right now. You can return to your family as men and not as murderers. You can also return that aircraft safe and sound to the people who own it... your people. The choice is yours. What will it be?”

There is no response. Ahangar braces himself for the inevitable volley of the Phoenix missiles. A few more seconds go by. No response. Suddenly, he hears the channel opening up.

This is Colonel Ebrahimi... and yes... I am part of the Iranian Air Force as well. With me is Major Khosravi... Major Ahangar, your hail is acknowledged... and appreciated. We will be returning to Mehrabad Airport.”

Ahangar smiles. It is a victory that he did not expect to be gained so easily. “Your country will appreciate what you have decided to do Colonel. I am sure that the authorities will as well.”

The F-14 veers off and flies back toward Mehrabad.

Ahangare whispers to himself. “Now for the real hard part.”

He can see the 727 on his radar. It is not too far. He gains speed and finds himself flying alongside it in a span of a few minutes.

Inside the 727, Rahmati is nervously pacing back and forth between the cockpit and the passenger area, waiting for news from the F-14 escorts.
Nasseri call him in. “You may want to come in and see this, Mr. Rahmati.”

Rahmati runs into the cockpit, followed by one of his men. Nasseri points out Ahangar’s Mig that is flying along the plane’s portside.

Rahmati is confused, and cannot quite tell the difference. “Has our escort returned?”

Nasseri smiles and shakes his head. “No, Mr. Rahmati. That is a Mig-29. Last I remember, our escorts were two F-14’s... this doesn’t look very good.”

Iazdi pulls the headset that is hanging around his neck to his ear, and after a small pause, turns to Rahmati. “We are being hailed by the pilot.”

“Give me that.” Rahmati grabs the headset and puts it to his ear.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“This is Major Reza Ahangar of the Iranian Air Force. You are ordered to turn around, head to Ghaleh Morghi Airbase, surrender your aircraft and prepare to be boarded.”

Rahmati smiles. “Or what?”

“Or I will fire my weapons and will blow you right out of the sky.”

Rahmati’s assistant, who has been standing next to him and listening in on the conversation motions to Rahmati to cut the radio, which Rahmati does.

“Did he say his name was Reza Ahangar?”

Rahmati is perplexed. “Yes, why?”

The man pulls Rahmati out of the cockpit and into the service area. He then whispers a few words in Rahmati’s ear. Rahmati smiles and walks back into the cockpit and grabs the headset.

“Major Ahangar, I don’t think you will do any such thing.”

Part I, Part II, Part III


Recently by anonymous111.2CommentsDate
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more from anonymous111.2

Sargord - At least read the story before you criticize

by anonymous111.2 on

I do this for a leaving, you know, and am quite used to criticism...and compliments.  My work has been reviewed, criticized and praised in all kinds of media.  But people who have done so have at least made an effort to read my material.  You, on the other hand appear to have not done so.

Who said anything about these aircraft taking off from Shiraz?!!!  Ghaleh Morghi airbase is in Tehran.   Speaking of Wikipedia, please take the time to look it up there.  Also, who said these aircraft were at 40000 feet?  The first sentence in Part II says 30000 feet.  (It's in bold and italics.  You can't miss it)

Based on these basic errors in your assumptions, it appears that the rest of your analysis about catching up and the range, etc. are equally wrong.  And as far as call signals, etc., this is a short story, and not a Tom Clancy novel.  The reader must get a sense of the characters' emotions within very restrictive time and length parameters, and that cannot be conveyed through call signals.  One must take liberty with certain elements in situations like this.  

Again, I don't mind being criticized.  But criticism must be fair and based on facts, not erroneous assumptions.  Now, if this story rubs you the wrong way politically to the extent that you have to make things up to criticize it, or if you believe, for whatever reason, that you do not like it, then you have the obvious option of not reading it.  I suggest that you do so.  Thank you.  

Sargord Pirouz

Fair, resources have been

by Sargord Pirouz on

Fair, resources have been put into overhauling F-14s, so I don't understand your comments belittling resources put into the F-5 upgrade programs. 

While the old planes are no longer the latest and greatest, they still serve as reliable aviation weapons platforms. This was ably demonstrated by the recent force-down of Rigi's commercial airline B-737.

My intention here is not to demean this story, per se. But honestly, anyone with access to Wikipedia can point out half the faults I've pointed out. Even if it is fiction, it has to convince the reader it is imaginable. Taking off from an AFB near Shiraz and catching a B-727 flying northbound from Tehran, with a lead time- well, anyone with the most basic skills in physics is going to realize the proposition is absurd.

My advice is to perform the most basic research necessary to make the story believable.

One other thing: the radio communication between the pilots in this story is unbearable. You could, at the very least, include call signs. 


United Iran

by anonymous111.2 on

Thank you for your kind comment.  Glad you enjoyed it.


WHO GIVES A..........

by UnitedIran on

Good job Anonymos111.....exciting story!! And to the rest of you non-experts... keep you opinions to yourselves. This is a fiction for God's sake and who gives a damn about your non-knowledge. Take it from an aerospace engineer that used to work on F14's.

Ali9 Akbar

american Junk????

by Ali9 Akbar on


yea right....  you guys never herd of Area 51.....???


the technology that exists there would look like the stuff that Gene Roddenberry saw in his mind when he was writing the scripts for Star Trek back in the 1960's ......  



by anonymous111.2 on

Thank you for your kind comments.  Of course, this story is work of fiction, and, as such, I can extend the range of the 727 so that it can reach the moon. :-))  But technical aspects of various aircraft are not the focus of this story.  The focus is, and should be, on the characters. Everything else is just ancillary stuff that can be pretty much ignored.  

All of that being said, the Sargord can criticize whatever he wants.  It's a free forum and free country. :-))   


relax major...

by Fair on

boro baba, nemoodi mara be een analeeezet!  bezar yeh dastane ghashang ham keh doostemoon meegeh ghashang begeh deegeh:)

...there you go again, ruining the story.

Of course,  you are citing all the weapons these planes had 30 years ago, remember, when there was an American puppet in power who was dependent on the US and would buy American junk?

What ever happenned to all the great improvements made by our self sufficiency jahad and hezbollahi motaahed experts (all on their own of course)?  You know, like the

-ghamare bani hashem missile developed for the F5 with 1000 km range and 100% probability of kill (only if imam zaman is around of course and not eating dinner with our beloved president)

-the ya-abolfazl miniature jet engine that provides 20,000 lbs of thrust and is so fuel efficient that it gives the F5 a range of 6000 miles?

-the ya hazrate abbas radar on the F5 which is so powerful that if any plane even detects its presence it will immediately crash land to avoid being tracked?

The fact that you completely neglect these accomplishments of our motekhasses and motaahed engineers can only be due to your being an exile here and out of touch with the realities on the ground in Iran I guess.

Oh, but need I not forget mention, the B727 will not make it to Russia, because of inhumane American sanctions which cause it to crash into the Alborz mountains.  


Meanwhile, anonymous keep up the great work, I love this story, and the suspense is killing me!  Please don't let waffen SS major with his 35 year old obsolete acronyms deter you:)



Sargord Pirouz

Taking off from TFB.7, the

by Sargord Pirouz on

Taking off from TFB.7, the MiG-29s range will not allow it to reach the target formation. Likewise, speed and range restrictions of the F-5 will not allow it to successfully reach and engage a target formation flying north at near Mach 0.90 @ 40,000 feet, especially given the fact of a built-in lead time.

In case the F-14s somehow were alerted and chose to break away from escort and engage at a distance south of the northward bound B-727:

There's actually a lot missing in this engagement. The Tomcats should be using the AN/AWG-9 combat trees and RWRs (in TWS mode). (It should be noted their AN/APX-76 IFF interrogators will relay "friendlies") They'll most likely climb and adopt a "combat spread". The pilot will order the RIO to switch on "noise jammers" and will give the go ahead to "light off" AIM-54As when ready (where did the ground crews get the maintenance kits to make these LRAAMs serviceable?). The shoot-down will most likely be made BVR. Four AIM-54As could possibly take out the entire intercept formation.

How did the intercept formation determine the target had spent its AAMs? (Especially with the F-14s firing BVR.) Why weren't the F-14s equipped with the addition of more readily serviceable AIM-7Es? And surely they'll have a compliment of AIM-9Ps.

The relatively limited range of the MiG-29's AAMs put it at a distinct disadvantage. The F-5s only carry heat-seeking SRAAMs. The F-14s will clearly get off the first shots, and it is doubtful the intercepting formation will survive. Be this as it may, regardless, it is an absolute certainty the B-727 will escape.


Hé, that's a famous picture.

by پیام on

Iranian F-14 modified to carry a Hawk SAM.


Thanks AI

by anonymous111.2 on

for the compliment.  

Artificial Intelligence


by Artificial Intelligence on

I liked the dog fight sceen and the suspense. More exciting than the first submission. Can't wait for the next part.


Movie Trivia

by anonymous111.2 on

There are three almost direct quotes from three different films in this part of the story.  Can you find them?  If you do I will give you....well, I really can't give you anything, but I'll shout "sad afarin" for you from behind my laptop!