A Fictional Tale about the Captured Stealth Drone’s Christmas in the Islamic Republic
RQ-170, the downed CIA drone was finally released from the solitary confinement and put in an airbase in Esfahan. He was so delighted to be in an outside hanger and in the company of some the US-made fighter jets. Upon his arrival at the Sepah airbase and once his batteries were fully charged, he looked around and saw a few Phantom F-4’s and F-5’s left over from the Shah’s time. He also saw a couple of F-14 Tomcats and a C-130 cargo plane. He had heard about these planes but had never seen one before. For RQ, it was like looking at an old family picture album of the relatives that he had never met!
The jet fighters gathered around him away from the watchful eyes of the Sepahi maintenance guys. They couldn’t quite figure out who he was or what he was doing there.
“Who are you? Where does your pilot sit? Are you a toy?” Asked Mrs. Phantom.
“Oh, I am a drone. I lost my way over Iran and ended up here. I have heard about you guys. Are you still flying?”
“Mr. Phantom and I, and a few of our friends came here many years ago. We loved it in Iran. The pay was great. The pilots were well-trained. We always had plenty of spare parts and we never worried about a war or getting shot down. After a while, we decided to start a family. I had the F-14 twins, Tommy and Junior. The other ladies also had children. We were all so happy here. We were ready to retire here until one day one of the Homafars who was refueling us said that things were changing.” Mrs. Phantom said with tearful eyes.
“Then the war started and we lost so many of our friends. After the war we didn’t have any spare parts. We were constantly in need of maintenance. Once in a while, they would take a part from one of us and put it in another one. It was horrible. We shouldn’t be flying. We should be retired and sitting in a museum or in an airbase back home where kids can come and see us and sit in our cockpits and dream about flying. Look at that chubby C-130 napping in the corner. He can barely take off.” Mr. Phantom shook his head.
“Then a few years ago they brought in a few of their Saegheh jets here and told us that we should treat them like our own and have Tommy and Junior marry them. But we refused to talk to them. Our boys didn’t want to convert to Islam and marry 4 Saegheh’s each. They want to go home and marry one of those next door F-16’s. They have seen them a few times flying over Iraq and are in love with them.”
The next night on the Christmas Eve, once all the guards went to sleep, all the fighter jets gathered around RQ as he told them about the life back home. The jets were homesick. They missed Christmas and wanted to be home near friends and family, around the Christmas tree with all the presents. RQ then told them the story of The Chicken Run where a group of chickens who were going to be cooked and put in pies by greedy farmers decided to escape. They didn’t know how to fly over the fence and were afraid of the world outside of the farm. But a brave rooster gave them the courage to put their heads together and build a plane and escape.
Mrs. Phantom was skeptical. “You are going to get us all killed. How about the C-130? How are we going to get him over the fence? What if get shot down by mistake by the Americans? They may think that we are attacking them.”
“Here is the plan.” RQ said confidently. “Tomorrow morning when the guy comes in to put the fuel in our tanks, we will give him the wrong read on the gauge so he put more fuel in us. Then when they all go to sleep at night we will quietly line up on the runway and get ready for take off. Tommy and Junior will put their wings under C-130’s to help him take off and Mr. Phantom will push him from behind. That should be enough to get him airborne. Once in the air, I will lead the way and tell our guys in the base in Afghanistan that we are on our way. Trust me, it will work.”
Later that night, as Santa and his sleigh were traveling over Iran on their way to Europe and North America to bring toys for the kids, RQ and all the fighter jets dreamed about the escape from the Islamic Republic and the wonderful life that was ahead of them back home.