The radar was dead, the guards reporting all clear, the air crisp and clear. Christmas Eve in Zanzibarland. Dingo took a long sip of coffee and watched the monitor, feeling a general sense of ineffable goodness about the world.
"You all set up in here?"
Dingo jumped out of his feet and into a salute before his mind registered the words. When it did, he replied quick and clear. "Yes sir, all clear, ready to watch through the night. ...Though I'm not expecting much trouble on Christmas Eve, sir," he added, as an afterthought.
"All clear?" Big Boss' brows drew together as he chewed on his ever-present cigar. "That's funny. We should be seeing Santa Claus by now, right?"
"...Sir?"
"We're set up to track Santa, aren't we? And got the IFF codes all sorted out? If we shoot down Santa there'll be a lot of disappointed kids tomorrow morning." Big Boss' face and tone betrayed no hint of a joke.
Dingo laughed a little anyway, hesitant. "Ah, well, sir...we don't really have the equipment to track Santa...I don't know who would, really..."
"NORAD does."
"NORAD, sir?"
"North American Aerospace Defense Command. You should know that one, all the eggheads are up all night working on a foolproof method of getting Metal Gear's nukes past them so we have a real threat." Big Boss took a long drag on his cigar, the harsh scent filling the cramped command room. "They track Santa, every year. Should be just getting set up now. And if they can track Santa..." The one eye bored into Dingo like a drill. "...then they can track our nukes."
"I...yes sir, of course, I know what NORAD is. I didn't know they tracked Santa." Dingo's eyes flitted around the room. This was all a joke, right? A bit of holiday humor for the men?
"Sir, I believe Santa's sleigh is magical," Hyena smoothly cut in, and Dingo could've kissed him right this very moment. "NORAD has a lot of resources we don't. If we want to track Santa, we're going to need magical assistance. Fortunately, since he won't show up in our radar, we don't have to worry about shooting him down."
Big Boss nodded, slowly, as he took the information in. "That makes sense," he allowed, taking another drag on the cigar. Dingo felt like he was going to pass out from the smoke, or maybe that was nerves. "Good, glad to hear it. Keep the radar up for what we can see, and keep the Hind-D patrolling. Let me make this clear." His gimlet gaze fixed on every man in turn. "If the crew shoots Santa Claus down they answer to me. Personally."
"Yes sir!" Every soldier in the room chorused, and a smile finally broke out across Big Boss' face.
"Good, glad to hear it. I'm looking forward to tomorrow! All the kids wrote letters, and most of them were good. Some asked for dumb stuff like dolls or toy trains, but I fixed them up to ask for AK-47s and Nikitas. Good, solid stuff, serve them well in the future." He laughed, a big, jolly sound. "I'll have the mess send up some holiday dinner for you all too. Merry Christmas!"
