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The night air was calm, save for the shrill sound of maintenance and the longing songs of crickets and cicadas which echoed through the desert landscape. The moon was directly overhead, casting a perfect, pale spotlight on the isolated Air Force base below. Its planes waited patiently on standby, ready as replacements for whenever the wing was ready to return from its fail-safe posts over Eurasia. Despite its isolation, Burpleson still found itself caught in the crossfire of this global conflict, trapped in a sort of no-man’s land that neither superpower was prepared to cross. Even so, on this night at least, the tension which so choked the world didn’t seem to settle on this lonesome fortress.
As the moon began to make its slow, creeping descent to the horizon, the airmen of the base began to retire for the night, with replacements slowly filling in their posts. One room, however, had yet to falter in its occupancy for even a moment: the office of the base commander.
The blinds of the office were still open, casting the room’s light across the street it resided beside. Inside the office was General Ripper and General Turgidson. Turgidson was lying on the couch which sat at the center of Ripper’s office, his head propped up by its arm as he stared up at the ceiling. Ripper was still hunched over his desk finishing up his work, the wisping trail of smoke from his cigar dissipating around him as he calmly but methodically worked.
Even without looking at the clock, Turgidson knew it was late. Although he had finished his work a while ago and could very well go home, he knew that if he didn’t stay to pester Ripper, the general would never leave his office.
Slowly but suddenly, Ripper sat back in his seat with a grunt. Turgidson shot a glance over to him, with Ripper meeting his look with confusion. He broke away to look at the clock, finally realizing how late it had gotten since his last ‘just five more minutes’. With a sigh, he leaned further into his chair as Turgidson went back to looking up at the ceiling.
“Over a decade of service for what? A desk job?” Ripper grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke.
“Tell me about it,” Turgidson said, “sometimes it makes me miss the ol’ 26 even.”
“Yeah, sometimes I miss those days…” Ripper said, longingly, “Sure the missions were hell sometimes, but at least you were doing something…”
Ripper looked off towards the other side of the room as he trailed off, lost in thought for a few moments, his eyes distractedly darting back and forth as he did so.
“You know what was always my favorite?” Ripper said finally, “Every once in a while when they would host a dance at the base. I always enjoyed those nights, a couple of us from our crew would go together... Did you ever go to any?”
“No, I can’t say I ever did,” Turgidson chuckled, “I don’t even know how to dance.”
Ripper looked back over to Turgidson. “You don’t?” He asked, “One of our other gunners taught me, it’s not that hard, I could teach you.”
“No, no, really, it’s fine,” Turgidson said while sitting up, slightly flustered at the offer, “I mean, it’s never come up before now.”
“No come on, it’ll be fun.” Ripper said. Before Turgidson could protest more, Ripper reached for the handheld radio he kept on his desk. He turned it on and began flipping through the stations, combing through static and late night radio shows until he eventually found a station that was playing jazz. Finally satisfied, he set down the radio and put out his cigar before walking to where Turgidson was sitting. As he stopped in front of him, he held out his hand for Turgidson to take.
Turgidson thought for a moment. “Fine,” he said, amused, “but then we’re going home.”
Ripper jokingly rolled his eyes while still holding out his hand. “Deal.”
Turgidson grinned as he took his hand. Ripper helped Turgidson stand before leading him to a more open part of the office. The pair stopped in a spot in front of the window, the pale moonlight competing with the harsh artificial lights of the office, as Ripper took Turgidson’s other hand.
“You’re going to want to follow what I do,” Ripper told him. There was a softness to his voice that Turgidson had rarely heard, but he still spoke loud enough to be heard over the music. “It’s kind of like marching, in the sense you have to follow the rhythm of the other person.”
Turgidson awkwardly, but surely, fell into rhythm with Ripper as the two began a slow, circular waltz. As Turgidson became more comfortable in his footing, Ripper steadily picked up the pace until they matched the tempo of the song.
“Where did you say you learned to dance?” Turgidson chuckled.
“One of my crewmates taught me.” He smiled, “so I could be ready for if I met someone special.”
Turgidson blushed awkwardly; he wasn’t expecting that answer. Neither, however, was he expecting Ripper to lead him into a spin before he could even think of an answer. Even caught off guard, Turgidson just leaned into the motion until he found himself facing Ripper again.
“There, you’re getting it.” Ripper said, grinning.
The two continued through the motions as the song danced through the air alongside them. Turgidson began to catch on to each addition Ripper tried to throw in, his motions becoming more and more certain with each pass. The two men circled each other just as the wing orbited their fail-safe points. The music directed their motions like wind pushing waves against a retreating tide, drawing them nearer until they were inevitably pulled away again.
Steadily, Ripper began to slow his pace. Although the song was still going strong, Turgidson figured it must be ending soon. As the pair slowed, they were drawn in ever closer, like planes stalling during an ascent. Just as the song began to rise once more, Ripper pulled Turgidson in close, letting go of his left hand to rest his arm on his back.
Just a moment later, Ripper bent Turgidson into a dip, their hands still interlocked above them as they both leaned into each other. Ripper’s grip was steady, his stance prepared. Close now, Ripper leaned further and into a kiss, his hold on Turgidson never wavering. Although surprised for just a moment, Turgidson didn’t fight it, instead resting his free hand on his neck and pulling him in closer.
Just as soon as it had begun, Ripper had begun to pull away again. Their eyes met, both men blushing as they stared at each other. After a moment, the two began to laugh a little. As the song finally came to a close, Turgidson helped Ripper pull him back up until both of them were fully standing once more. As the radio host began to announce the next song, Ripper broke away to turn off the radio. Now, it was time for Ripper to fulfill his end of the deal. Neither said a word as they prepared to leave the office and head home.
Finally, the lights were shut off and the room was vacated, leaving the moonlight to pour through the blinds: the only witness to their escapades.