Chapter 82: The Fighter Jet Truly Suited for Pakistan

These words struck at Mudad’s soft spot and spoke directly to the heart of Pakistan as well. To be able to put forward requirements during the development phase, and have a plane designed according to Pakistan’s needs—this was truly a blessing.

No matter how Pakistan chose, buying aircraft from other countries always meant accepting designs tailored to the producer’s requirements; some aspects simply could not meet Pakistan’s operational needs, and sometimes there were even conflicts. But if there really could be an aircraft with Pakistan involved from the initial development stages, that would be an entirely different matter.

By highlighting Pakistan’s unique circumstances, it would be possible to make the fighter jet perfectly suited to the country’s needs. Given the strong relationship between China and Pakistan, it was not impossible to even secure part of the production within Pakistan. The current JJ-7 jet trainer was an excellent entry point—even though it was just a trainer, Pakistan had special requirements for training aircraft as well.

Presently, Pakistan’s aircraft fleet was quite complicated, ranging from the oldest J-6 fighters to the J-7 and F-16s—three entirely different generations. The J-6 had twin-seat trainers, which could be set aside, but the J-7 and F-16 presented real problems.

The J-7 had no twin-seat trainer, and though there were a few twin-seat F-16s, using them for training always made the Pakistani Air Force’s logistics officers ache; training pilots on twin-seat F-16s was simply too expensive to bear. Yet, there was still no third-generation trainer for pilot instruction—a truly difficult situation.

Even in later years, Pakistan’s trainer dilemma remained unsolved until the mass deployment of the Thunder allowed for a reduction in F-16 training, letting the Thunder take on the responsibility of guarding Pakistan’s skies. But this was only a superficial fix—the challenge of training F-16 pilots persisted.

Now, things could be different. If Pakistan could secure a voice in the development of the JJ-7, everything would change. Not only would it resolve the trainer issue for the J-7, but by incorporating some Western technologies into the Pakistani variant, perhaps even introducing elements of a fly-by-wire system, some F-16 flight training could be carried out with this new trainer. This would significantly reduce the training load and wear on the F-16s.

The more he thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. As long as this trainer jet project was executed well, it would be a huge boon for the air force.

“Mr. Yang,” Mudad asked, “are you serious? You can really take our requirements into account in the design?”

He had taken the bait. Now it was just a matter of negotiation—if Pakistan was interested, there was no doubt they could be convinced.

“Of course. Pakistan is our Republic’s most reliable friend. What issue could there be in jointly developing a trainer? And since Pakistan is a major J-7 user, we naturally need to consider your requirements.”

Regardless of how reliable this young man named Yang seemed, if there was a possibility, it was worth fighting for. Mudad couldn’t wait to lay out Pakistan’s unique needs for a trainer.

“Very well. If we need the trainer to be able to perform some of the training functions for third-generation fighter pilots, is that possible?”

Training some third-generation pilots? That wasn’t a major issue. With some modifications, the JJ-7 could manage it. The L-15 trainer from later years was developed in exactly this fashion, and the situation in China then was almost identical to Pakistan’s now.

The Republic’s vast fleet of second-generation fighters required pilot training, as did the newly expanding third-generation fleet. The JJ-7 could no longer suffice. In the competition for developing the new generation of trainers, the L-15 succeeded precisely by meeting the needs of the forces: training pilots for both the enormous second-generation fleet and covering at least half of the third-generation flight curriculum. That alone won overwhelming support, and combined with full domestic production, led to a massive trainer contract.

Now, letting the L-15 technology out early wouldn’t be an issue—the technology wasn’t particularly advanced, and with a little effort and secure funding, it could be achieved.

“That’s not a problem. We can incorporate this requirement into the design for you, but your country will need to bear part of the development costs.”

Sharing development costs was only natural; if the design was tailored to their requirements, they would have to invest. Unless the sum was outrageous, it should be manageable.

“That’s understandable. If that’s the case, we are prepared to pay part of the design costs. But I wonder roughly how much?”

Sensing the hesitation in the team leader’s words, Yang Hui easily guessed the reason. Pakistan was not a wealthy country; with the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, Pakistan had to support the Afghan resistance for its own security, all of which required funds.

Even though the United States was providing substantial military aid, all of it went to American arms dealers; Pakistan never saw a cent and could only order American weapons, just as with the F-16s.

All these factors meant that Pakistan simply didn’t have much money to spare, so the financial burden had to be carefully weighed—ask for too much, and they would refuse outright. But neither Yang Hui nor the delegation could give a concrete figure—nothing but a rough estimate, to be discussed later.

“As for funding... Probably about 30% of the total project. The exact number can’t be determined right now; it will have to be negotiated later.”

Hearing the figure, though still high, it wasn’t unbearable. The only thing to do was agree for now and report back to the Prime Minister; if there was genuine interest, more delegates would be sent to the Republic for concrete negotiations.

“Very well. I’ve noted the figure and will report today’s meeting to the Prime Minister. We will provide a definite answer by the end of June at the latest.”

Discussion was necessary. Today’s talks with Yang Hui and his group didn’t even count as preliminary negotiations—just a proposal. Now they would have to consult with Institute No. 1, which was the real linchpin of this cooperation.

“All right, I’ll also need to return to the base to discuss this.”

With that, both sides prepared to leave, each with their own thoughts, but suddenly Yang Hui remembered something.

“Mudad, could you help us get in touch with the Saudi delegation?”

At this point, the Republic had not established diplomatic relations with Saudi Arabia, making it extremely difficult to meet anyone from the kingdom. A bridge was needed, and Mudad was the perfect candidate.

“Oh, you want to meet the Saudi delegation? I can introduce you. Just wait here, and I’ll bring our Saudi friends over.”

Though he didn’t know what the Republic’s people wanted with Saudi Arabia, Mudad was willing to act as a go-between—both countries were friends of his own.

Mudad left to find the Saudi delegation, leaving Yang Hui and the others pondering. What was the point of contacting Saudi Arabia? The two countries had yet to establish diplomatic relations.

“Yang Hui, what are you thinking? We have no diplomatic ties with Saudi Arabia—the rules of foreign affairs are clear, you know that,” Director Bai whispered, scolding the young man for letting success go to his head and disregarding such important protocols.

“Director, I understand the foreign affairs discipline, but my analysis suggests we might be able to strike a major deal with Saudi Arabia. Such a deal could even promote diplomatic relations between our countries.”

He didn’t know what to say to Yang Hui anymore—it was as if he was blinded by the prospect of money. Was this a deal worth making? Was it wise to take such a risk based only on analysis? He spoke again, anxious.

“Yang Hui, you’ve got a bright future—don’t throw it away for this. Money can’t compare to your future. Come on, let’s go. We can’t meet the Saudis.”

“Director, I can’t leave now. If my analysis is correct and this project succeeds, our institute will be completely revitalized, maybe even leap ahead of the Liming Factory.”

Revitalizing the institute, surpassing Liming Factory—the temptation was great. The director hesitated. He knew the state of the institute: it could just about survive, but real revitalization was nearly impossible. If Yang Hui was right, then maybe it was worth the risk.