What If? a Collection of Short Fiction by J. Paul Cooper Read online

  A few minutes later the Colonel shook Alex’s hand as he was about to leave. He paused and leaned closer to his officer, speaking softy so he wouldn’t be overheard.

  “Alex, this is third year you’ve volunteered to work Christmas Eve. That worries me. Are you having problems at home?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Try to stay positive.”

  “I’ll try Sir.”

  Sandra picked up the remote control and flipped through the channels on the television, as Alex poured coffee into two mugs. She stared at the baked goods arranged on a table by the wall. “Just great. I get to sit on my butt all night, and increase my intake of fat and cholesterol, while I listen to you complain.”

  Alex handed her a mug. “Well, you could have chosen a different career. Just think; you could be spending your days sitting at a desk in an office tower, preparing spreadsheets for the quarterly report. And since you’d have regular hours, you could spend Christmas Eve at home with your husband, two and a half kids and a dog.”

  Sandra sat down and stared at the ceiling. “So, would I have a really good looking husband?”

  “Hey, I already said you’d have a house, two and a half kids and a dog. You can’t have everything.”

  “You know,” replied Sandra, “it’s quite nice of you to volunteer to work Christmas Eve, so the others can be home with their children. But I can’t imagine your wife is happy about being home alone.”

  Alex paused for a moment while he considered whether or not to respond. He didn’t like discussing his personal life at work, but he trusted Sandra to show discretion. “Christmas Eve isn’t a good time for us. I told Francine before we got married that I didn’t want to have children. She didn’t care back then, but now that so many of her college friends have children of their own, things have changed. Now, every Christmas Eve we get into the same argument.”

  Sandra took a sip of steaming hot coffee. “I understand why a female fighter pilot wouldn’t want to have kids. You can’t strap yourself into a supersonic fighter and practice dogfights while you’re six months pregnant. But you don’t have to worry about that. I know the job is dangerous, but cops and firefighters put their lives on the line every time they start a new shift. They have dangerous professions too.”

  Alex stood by the window watching the snow falling outside. “My father and mother got divorced while I was quite young. He drank too much, and he never seemed to have a steady job.After the divorce, I spent a lot of my time at a neighbour’s house, because mother was always working overtime at the factory.”

  “My mother wanted to go back to school and train for an interesting job, but we had so little money it just wasn’t possible. At times she talked about moving in with her parents to save money, but there weren’t many jobs in the town where her parents lived, and at least the factory job was steady. She was trapped and she knew it.”

  Sandra’s voice was quiet. “That wasn’t your fault Alex.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter whether it was my fault or not. I watched my mother waste the best years of her life working at a miserable factory job, knowing she had so much more potential. I don’t want to put a child through that. It’s too much.”

  Sandra shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I can’t say that I really understand what you went through Alex, but I don’t see the point of assuming that your marriage will end in divorce, just because that’s what happened to your parents. You may still be married to Francine fifty years from now.”

  “Perhaps,” replied Alex, “but the odds aren’t in our favour. Did you read that article in the paper yesterday, about how many marriages end in divorce in this country? Fifty percent!”

  Sandra was about to answer, when the alarm sounded. The two pilots grabbed their helmets as they ran from the ready room.

  Minutes later, two jet fighters lifted off the runway, as their powerful engines hurled them through buffeting crosswinds, visibility almost zero. The pilots listened as the control tower reported the speed and direction of the aircraft they were tracking on long-range radar. It was approaching the coast at high speed and had ignored all attempts to make contact.

  “What do you think it is?” asked Sandra. “The Colonel said there were no training flights in the air tonight. I can’t think of any commercial aircraft that fly that fast. We’ll be lucky if we manage to get a visual.”

  Alex glanced to his right, the lights on his wingman’s aircraft barely visible. “If the pilot doesn’t have his lights on, we may not see anything at all.”

  “Let’s hope,” replied Sandra, “that he climbs above the clouds, and then at least we’ll have the moonlight.”

  As Sandra finished speaking, the control tower informed the pilots of a new course and speed for the unidentified aircraft. Alex considered the possibilities and replied to the control tower. “Tower,” he replied, “we are changing our course to intercept. Notify command that we are arming our missiles.”

  Sandra was concerned by what she had heard. “Repeat that last.”

  “Arm your missiles. Whatever it is out there, it’s dangerous and we have to destroy it.”

  “Our standing orders,” replied Sandra “is not to fire on any aircraft on Christmas Eve unless we make visual contact and we’ve been given permission.”

  The adrenaline racing through his system combined with the caffeine, made it hard for Alex to control his temper, especially with someone, anyone, questioning his orders. “I’m the officer in charge. I’m responsible. Arm your missiles.”

  “You’re asking me to disobey orders from our Commanding Officer Alex. I don’t want to start the New Year with a court martial.”

  Alex didn’t want to admit he was wrong, but he knew Sandra had a point; they could both be heading for serious trouble. He began explaining why he felt it was a real threat. “No commercial aircraft can change direction that fast or move at that speed. It may be some type of cruise missile or drone test that’s gone off-course. You never know, other government departments don’t tell us about every new weapon they’re developing. We don’t tell them all our secrets. Whatever it is, we can’t allow it to get any closer. Once it reaches the coast, citizens will be at risk.”

  “Perhaps,” Sandra suggested, “we should try and make visual contact, then arm our missiles if we can’t.”

  “Agreed. Well try to make visual contact,” replied Alex, “but if we can’t, it will have to be destroyed. It’s Christmas Eve, one packed church could be hundreds of charred bodies if a cruise missile or drone slams into it.”

  As the two fighters closed in on the target, it constantly changed is speed and direction, making it difficult to follow. Sandra noted it first. “It’s an aircraft and someone’s flying it Alex. Cruise missiles can’t maneuver like that.and I;m not sure drones can. The pilot knows he’s being tracked.”

  Alex tried contacting the pilot. “Unidentified aircraft, you are in violation of our national airspace. Reduce your speed and respond. I repeat, reduce your speed and respond.” The only response was static as the unidentified aircraft accelerated and climbed through the clouds. The two jet fighters cut in their afterburners and followed.

  The old man’s knuckles were white as he grasped the reins. He strained to see through the blowing snow as he called out to the reindeer pulling his sleigh. “Come on boys, let’s move it! We can’t let them get close enough for a look.”

  Alex gave the order, “Arm missiles.”

  Sandra moved her thumb to depress a small switch on her control column and the heads-up display on her canopy indicated that her missiles were ready to launch. “Missiles armed.”

  She spoke quietly to herself, “I can’t believe this is happening; it’s Christmas Eve and I’m getting ready to kill.”

  Santa Claus had flown this same route countless times, but as the years passed radar became more sophisticated and jet fight
ers became faster. That’s why he eventually had to start contacting governments, asking them to show special restraint on Christmas Eve. That is, the governments he trusted to keep his schedule secret. He didn’t want a media circus waiting for him at every stop. For years a handshake had been enough, but since 9/11 everything in the sky, even commercial aircraft carrying tourists, were considered a potential threat. The world was becoming more paranoid, more trigger-happy every year and his job was becoming very dangerous.

  The jet fighters turned sharply, as they closed in behind their target. Alex had not yet received permission to fire his weapons, but he had already made up his mind. Barely visible smoke trails followed the two missiles as they left rails beneath the wings of his aircraft. He knew it would be obvious to Sandra that he had fired his weapons, but he made it official for the record. “Missiles launched.”

  Santa was furious; here he was delivering presents, and some idiot was disobeying orders and trying to kill him. He knew it would be dangerous flying at high speed just above the waves, but there was no other way. “Let’s take her down!”

  The missiles tracked the target, but it dove suddenly, making seemingly impossible corkscrew maneuvers. Alex fired a second salvo of two missiles, but they missed as well. He knew he had no hope of getting close enough to use his cannons. He contacted Sandra, who still had four missiles ready to launch. “Do you have a lock on the target?”

  Sandra glanced at the heads-up display on her canopy and saw the flashing light that indicated her missiles were ready. “Affirmative. Missiles locked on target.”

  “Fire missiles.”

  Sandra hesitated. “An aircraft would have to use afterburners to move at that speed, but our heat-seeking missiles didn’t work. That’s not a jet, and prop aircraft don’t fly that fast.“

  “Then,” replied Alex, struggling to remain calm “it must be a new type of cruise missile or aircraft that can minimize its heat signature. Either way we have to try and destroy it. Fire your missiles!”

  “No. It doesn’t feel right.”

  Alex started screaming. “What do you mean it doesn’t feel right? I gave you a direct order. Whatever it is may be seconds away from killing civilians. How does that make you feel?”

  “I know what I’m doing. He won’t kill anyone.” Sandra flipped a switch, disarming her missiles.

  “He won’t kill anyone! Who’s he?”

  Sandra watched as the target disappeared from her radar screen. “That wasn’t a hostile aircraft Alex. If it was, we’d be dead by now.”

  Alex contacted the control tower at their home base. There had been no reports of explosions. Perhaps it hadn’t been a threat after all, but as far as he was concerned it didn’t excuse Sandra’s actions. As they turned to return to base, Alex spoke again. “You better have a good explanation for the board of inquiry. You can’t disobey a direct order without a very good reason. I hope you didn’t think it was Santa Claus.”

  Sandra didn’t reply. There was no point. She had made her decision and she would have to live with the consequences. The flight back to base was silent; the only conversation was between Alex and the control tower as he confirmed they had enough fuel to return to base.

  Following them far below, dangerously close to the ground to avoid radar detection was a sleigh being pulled by eight tiny reindeer. The face of the man holding the reins was as red as his suit.

  The howling wind was muffled as the ground crew closed the hangar doors behind the two aircraft. They rushed forward to chalk the wheels and rolled steps up to the sides of the jet fighters as the pilots opened their canopies. The Sergeant in charge of the ground crew stood staring at the empty missile racks beneath Alex’s fighter.

  “Well Sir,” he began, “I can’t wait to hear your story, because you weren’t going to the firing range.”

  Alex took off his helmet as he climbed down the steps next to his aircraft. “Sorry Sergeant, I can’t talk about it right now. There’s going to be an inquiry. If the aircraft are secure, I want everyone out of here.”

  The Sergeant saluted Alex and turned to members of his crew. “You heard the Captain, everyone out. Right now!”

  Sandra stood at attention with her helmet under one arm. Alex stood and glared at her. “For the record Captain, you have contravened several rules and regulations. The only way you’re going to avoid time in military prison is if you claim some kind of psychological problem, but if you do that you may never be able to fly commercial aircraft, and I can assure you that you’ll never fly a military jet again. You’ve just destroyed your career with one stupid decision.”

  Alex heard the hangar door open, and felt the cold air rush inside. He turned away from Sandra and walked around the aircraft to see who had disobeyed his orders to leave the hangar. “Who opened the hangar door? I told everyone to get out!”

  Alex heard something growling. He had good reflexes, but by the time he spun around it was too late. Screaming in pain, he put his hand over a rip in the seat of his pants and stared in amazement at a reindeer standing next to a portly man in a red suit. Behind them was a sleigh and several other reindeer.

  Alex looked over at Sandra. “This has all been a practical joke. That’s why it didn’t fly like a commercial aircraft, one of our pilots was in on this, flying one of our fighters. That’s why my missiles didn’t explode; you had the ground crew take the fuses out of my missiles. And now a guy in a Santa Claus suit shows up. I hope for your sake that you can’t be court-martialed for a practical joke.”

  Sandra looked at the man in the red suit. “This is no joke Alex. He isn’t laughing.”

  Alex stared at the rip in his pants. “Those bite marks better not become infected. I’m going to have you arrested for bringing a dangerous, uncontrolled animal on the base.”

  Santa Claus glared at Alex. “Go ahead and try. You’re just getting what you deserve. Look what you did!”

  “What I did?”

  Santa Claus pointed at the reindeer standing next to him. The fur on its tail was singed. “That’s how close one of your missiles came to killing us.”

  Alex watched as Santa Claus walked over and gave Sandra a hug. Tears ran down her cheeks. The old man smiled. “You know, my reindeer were pushed to their limit. If you had fired your missiles too, we’d all be dead now. Thank-you for believing.”

  Alex snorted. “I want to see some ID. If you’re on this base illegally, it won’t matter whether or not I get the joke. And I hope that you have some air-to-air missiles in that bag of yours, because I launched four of them and someone is going to have to pay for their replacements. And what happens if they killed someone when they fell from the sky? Dead civilians make really lousy PR.”

  Santa Claus reached into the large bag in his sleigh. “Well Alex, I don’t have any air-to-air missiles, but I do have something that belongs to you.”

  Alex stared at the model aircraft in Santa’s hand for a moment, taken back by what he saw. He shook his head. “I’m not impressed. Sandra knows that my favourite aircraft is the F-4 Phantom, and she could have told you. Anyone could have put that model together and painted it. “

  Santa Claus turned the aircraft over and pointed at the bottom of the aircraft’s tail. “Did she know that you always put your initial under the wing on the left side?”

  Alex glanced at Sandra. “I’ve told her many things.”

  “Did you tell her,” asked Santa Claus,” that you lost this model when your parents divorced and you had to move from the house you loved to an apartment near the factory, because your mother couldn’t afford a car on her salary?”

  Santa Claus stepped closer and placed the model in Alex’s hands. “Your dream was to become a fighter pilot and your dream came true because of your mother’s love for you. She’s proud of you Alex and when her friends at the senior citizens home come to her apartment, the first thing they see is a picture of you with those pilot’s wings on your uniform. You didn’t ruin your mother’s life Alex.”
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br />   Alex coughed. “How do you know all this? You’re just some kind of actor.”

  Santa Claus climbed into his sleigh. “Listen Alex, if I was an actor, I’d be much better looking, and my reindeer would probably talk.”

  Alex stared at the model aircraft as a single tear ran down the side of his face. “If it’s so dangerous, why do you keep delivering presents every year?”

  “Life involves risk, even if what you’re doing is right. At any time you could be ordered to fly into a war zone and be put in harms way. But you keep flying fighter jets. Why?”

  Alex smiled. “Because I love my country.”

  “The love you have for your country, the courage to follow your dreams, those are solid values that you can pass onto children . You’d make a good father Alex, even in a dangerous world. All you have to decide, is whether or not you’re willing to take the risk.”

  Alex walked over to the control panel next to the hangar door. As the hydraulic doors opened, he waved at the old man in the sleigh. “I’ll call my wife tonight. I think it’s time we started a family.”

  Sandra laughed. “Well, I guess that goes to show that even a cold fish can have a warm heart.”

  Santa Claus turned and waved. “Merry Christmas Alex and don’t worry about those missing missiles, I’m sure I can make a couple of phone calls and have everything taken care of with no fuss. After all, I have connections and a lot of free time during the summer months. In fact, I already have rounds of golf booked with the President and the Prime Ministers of Canada, Great Britain and Australia in July!”

  The two fighter pilots watched as the hangar door closed behind the sleigh. Sandra turned to Alex, “So when are you going to file the charges for my court martial?”