504: Chapter 504 Dragon Sky Rescue, Jointly Locking Down the Strait

"Let them come," Senior Colonel Lin Haisheng said. "The Shan State and the Kachin are to maintain their original formation. Do not fire, but prepare the fire-control radar for locking on. Wait for my command."

Two minutes later, the P-8A closed in to five nautical miles, dropping its altitude to three thousand feet—this was the standard flyby altitude for low-altitude reconnaissance and provocation against warships.

As its wings brushed past the port side of the Bhamo's bow, the electronic reconnaissance pod mounted on the wingtip was almost level with the bridge.

The P-8A pilot left a shouting message in English over the channel, his tone flippant:

"Morning, boys. Nice boats you got there."

Senior Colonel Lin Haisheng pressed the intercom.

"All-ship anti-air radar, high-power illumination. Track it."

The main beam of the Bhamo's S-band phased array radar transitioned from standby to full-power lock within 0.3 seconds.

Inside the P-8A cockpit, the radar warning receiver shrieked simultaneously—the pilot's back was drenched in adrenaline.

There were only two types of signal sources that could trigger this warning sound in a fighter cockpit: an anti-aircraft missile fire-control radar, or the main lobe of a destroyer's full-power air-search radar.

The former meant preparation to fire, while the latter meant the captain had a bad temper.

"Radar lock—they've locked onto us!"

The P-8A pilot shoved the control stick forward, and the aircraft made a sharp turn and climbed.

The right wing tore a crackling sound from the air, overload vibrations transmitted up from the skeleton, and his tailbone tingled from the shock.

He cursed, put away his flippant tone, and switched to standard communication format:

"——Diego Garcia, a Myanmar warship is illuminating me with fire-control radar.

Requesting to depart the current airspace. Repeat, requesting to depart the current airspace!"

After listening to the intercepted call, Senior Colonel Lin Haisheng flicked away the tea leaves with his teacup lid.

"Turn off the fire-control radar.

Reply on the public channel: This is the Myanmar Navy destroyer Bhamo, conducting routine anti-submarine exercises.

All civil airliner flights and military aircraft, please maintain a safe distance. Thank you for your cooperation."

When the watch officer wrote this repetition down in the logbook, the tip of his pen poked an ink spot onto the paper.

The wording of this sentence was standard international sea-air collision avoidance rule terminology, and not a single word could be faulted procedurally.

But the effect was equivalent to demoting the P-8A from a military aircraft to an "air traffic participant" that needed collision avoidance—like shooing away a pigeon blocking the front of a truck.

After climbing to 25,000 feet, the P-8A turned northeast, its track gradually moving away from the Mozambique Channel.

Inside the cabin, the pilot loosened the chin strap of his flight helmet and took a deep breath of oxygen.

Diego Garcia base pressed him in the encrypted channel on "how many seconds the fire-control lock lasted," to which he replied "seven seconds," and then added: "They weren't locking on—they were measuring me.

The radar main lobe swept across my fuselage for seven seconds, recording my electronic signature every single second."

Diego Garcia fell silent for a few seconds.

"Received. Return to base."

Before the P-8A flew out of Vega's monitoring range, the crew transmitted back to Diego Garcia base all the photos taken during the flyby—including close-ups of the Bhamo's bridge antennas, the hull numbers of the two 054B frigates, and the maneuvering patterns of the three-ship anti-submarine formation.

Senior Colonel Lin Haisheng knew very well where these photos would be sent.

He had Vega intercept the P-8A's data link transmission, but did not order any interference.

Among this batch of photos, there were a few he deliberately wanted them to send back—the one capturing the bow vertical launch system in a fully open state, the one showing the shipboard Z-20F dipping sonar, and the banner hanging outside the bridge portholes of the Shan State.

Printed on the banner in Chinese, Myanmar, and English were:

"Nakara Waterway Joint Patrol Formation."

Pressed in the lower right corner of the banner was a line of small text: "Myanmar Navy - Dragon Kingdom Southern Theater Command Joint Operation."

Eleven minutes after the photos were transmitted back to Diego Garcia, two new radar echoes appeared over the northern entrance of the Mozambique Channel.

The echoes entered at high speed from fifteen degrees west of true north, at an altitude of 26,000 feet and a speed of 1.5 Mach—fighter jets.

Vega completed the friend-or-foe identification within two seconds.

The identification result popped up on the Bhamo's electronic warfare system screen:

[Identity: Dragon Kingdom Southern Theater Command Air Force · J-16 two-ship formation. Route: Patrolling along the southern section of the centerline of the Mozambique Channel. Airborne radar is in standby mode. Communication frequency matches the joint patrol mechanism.]

Senior Colonel Lin Haisheng heard the voice of the J-16 lead pilot over the channel—not in English, but in Mandarin:

"Myanmar Navy formation, two aircraft from the Dragon Kingdom Air Force are rendezvousing with you.

Ordered to execute joint patrol at the northern entrance of the strait. Four subsequent fighter jets will arrive for handover within one hour."

Senior Colonel Lin Haisheng pressed the communication button: "Received. Welcome aboard.

Current sea area status—a P-8A just completed a low-altitude flyby and departed, and the three-ship formation is conducting anti-submarine searches. No abnormal merchant ship activity on the sea surface."

"Received. We'll circle above you."

The two J-16s traced two intersecting flight paths in the air, their wingtips pulling out white condensation trails, drawing a perfect X-shape in the deep blue sky north of the Tropic of Capricorn.

As they turned, the Dragon Kingdom Air Force red five-star emblems on the fighter wings shone brilliantly red in the reflection of the sea surface.

That same afternoon, at a regular press conference of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Dragon Kingdom, a Western reporter asked whether "the military presence of the Dragon Kingdom Air Force in the Mozambique Channel means an escalated risk of military confrontation in the sea area."

The spokesperson did not answer directly, but only said:

"The flight activities of the Dragon Kingdom Air Force in the relevant airspace are joint training missions executed at the invitation of the Myanmar side and in accordance with the defense mutual assistance provisions of the Framework for Regional Cooperation in Southern Asia.

This airspace is international airspace, and all flight activities comply with international law and international aviation practices."

The reporter pressed further: "What is the position of the Dragon Kingdom regarding the activities of the remnants of Council of Elders in the Mozambique Channel?"

The spokesperson paused for a second: "The Dragon Kingdom has consistently maintained that no non-state actors should deploy armed forces in high seas waterways or hinder freedom of commercial navigation.

We maintain a high level of concern regarding related intelligence."

Manhattan. Federal Prosecutor's Office.

Haskins was arraigned twenty-four hours before the extradition plane took off.

The fluorescent lights in the arraignment room were blinding, and spread across the table was that half-page of Barrett's signature page confiscated from the Park Avenue apartment.

The horizontal stroke of the letter t at the end of the signature curved slightly upward, the ink blackened by shredder machine oil.

The prosecutor placed the printed copy of the telegram reading "Burn everything. No witnesses" in front of Haskins.

"This telegram was sent to the battlefield commander in the caves of Mount Kinabalu.

The sender is Barrett, copied to you.

Three minutes after the commander received the telegram, those contraband weapons were ordered to be destroyed.

What crime do you think this constitutes?"

Haskins did not answer.

His lawyer whispered something in his ear, and Haskins shook his head.

The lawyer answered for him: "My client refuses to answer this question."