With a heartbreaking metallic groan and billowing smoke, the "Shadow" lurched violently at low altitude like a giant bird with broken wings, struggling towards the alternate landing site.
Inside the control tower, all communication channels were deathly silent, save for the hum of the equipment and the heavy, suppressed breathing of the crowd.
Mingzhao pursed his lips, his gaze fixed on the main screen. The gray phantom representing "Shadow" was fluctuating violently, its height and speed readings plummeting like the electrocardiogram of a dying person.
"Height 4000...3500...3000! Speed 0.6...0.5!"
Every jump in the altitude and speed readings gripped everyone's nerves.
"Sky Curtain! Report your posture! Can it be controlled?"
Mingzhao's voice, transmitted through an encrypted channel, carried an unprecedented tension.
The only sounds on the channel were the intense airflow noise and the creaking of the machine's structure as it struggled to keep up with the strain.
A few seconds later, Old Zhao's voice came through, weak and feeble, like a broken bellows:
"Barely... aligned... with the runway... landing gear... down... speed... too slow... might... overshoot..."
Every word struck the hearts of the people like a heavy hammer.
If the speed is too low, the landing gear will bring enormous drag, and the fighter jet could stall and crash to the ground at any time!
"Hold on! Maintain this position!"
Mingzhao's instructions were brief and powerful. Her fingertips flew across the keyboard, retrieving real-time weather and terrain data from the alternate landing site. Her brain, like an overclocked computer, instantly calculated the most likely impact point and the probability of survival.
"2000 meters! Speed 0.4! Altitude continues to drop!"
The radar operator's voice was filled with despair.
The edge of the alternate landing area. The rudimentary runway rapidly magnifies in the field of vision.
Old Zhao's vision was blurred by overload and excruciating pain, and his mask was soaked with a mixture of sweat and blood.
With an iron will and the instinct honed from countless life-or-death emergency landings, he gripped the violently shaking control stick tightly, resisting the immense force that was pulling the fighter jet toward the ground! The yellow earth below was now clearly visible through the landing gear wheels!
"Control tower... I... I did my best..."
Old Zhao's voice was so weak it was almost inaudible.
Just then!
Buzz,
A terrifying tremor, far more violent than before and like the explosion of a hellish furnace, suddenly erupted from the deepest part of the machine!
The entire "shadow" seemed to be gripped and kneaded by an invisible giant hand!
The structural stress curve on the main screen instantly broke through all scale limits, and the deep black disaster symbol flashed wildly!
The burst of broadband noise on the spectrum reached a devastating peak!
"No!" Zhang Meng cried out in anguish!
Boom!
A dull, massive impact, accompanied by the tearing of metal and a piercing, distorted shriek, was clearly transmitted back to the control tower via ground-based listening equipment!
The gray phantom signal representing the "Shadow" flickered violently on the screen for a moment, then disappeared completely! The altitude and speed readings instantly dropped to zero!
Inside the control tower, all was deathly silent. Time seemed to stand still.
Zhang Meng staggered, her face ashen.
Su Xuan covered her mouth tightly, tears streaming down her face.
Wang Tiezhu closed his eyes in anguish.
Jiang Feng slammed his fist hard against the wall.
Mingzhao's body trembled almost imperceptibly. For the first time, her usually calm and deep eyes clearly reflected the enormous shock. She stared intently at the screen where the signal disappeared, her fingertips digging deeply into her palms.
"Alternate landing site report! 'Shadow'... 'Shadow' has made an emergency landing! Overruns the runway! Rolls violently! On fire!"
The monitoring channel carried the terrified, trembling screams of an observer at the alternate landing site, with the background sounds of a massive impact and a muffled thud resembling an explosion.
"Ambulance! Fire truck! Hurry! Hurry!"
Zhang Meng screamed into the microphone, her voice ripped apart.
The base's alarm blared mournfully!
Paramedics rushed frantically toward the alternate landing site!
Across the ocean, at the U.S. Pacific Command Joint Command Center.
On the massive integrated situation screen, the three dots representing Operation Falcon exhibited an odd state:
The SR-71 "Blackbird" signal was flying at top speed, fleeing East Asian airspace in a panic like a stray dog, its trajectory pointing straight toward Guam.
The signal for the F-15 wingman, representing "Raven," followed immediately.
The F-15 lead aircraft, representing the "Vulture," signaled weakly and erratically, its altitude and speed far below the formation, like a wounded lone goose staggering behind.
The main communication channel was filled with chaos, terror, and incredulous roars:
The vulture cried out in a hoarse, nervous voice, "Ghost! Radar can't see it! It's real! It touched me! It touched me!"
Raven, exasperated, rattled off incoherent commands and questions: "Radar malfunction! Confirmed! All systems are normal! But he saw it! The Ghost touched him! What the hell is going on?"
"Crow" cried out in alarm, "Vulture! Maintain course! Altitude! You're losing altitude! Damn it! Where is that thing?"
The entire command center was deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop.
On the huge screen, the green background that represented the absolute cleanliness of the airspace below was now seen by everyone as the deepest and most unfathomable abyss!
The assessment report, which had been regarded as the gold standard not long ago and asserted that "Ghost" had major flaws, was now like a piece of waste paper stained with blood, torn to shreds by an invisible force and thrown in the face of every officer!
A gray-haired admiral stared intently at the screen as the "Blackbird" fled in panic and the "Vulture" sent out signals as if it were a frightened bird.
The coffee cup in his hand fell to the ground with a "clatter," and the scalding coffee splashed onto his shiny military boots, but he was completely unaware.
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