Title: Countdown
Author: sss979
Rating: PG
Warnings: Non-graphic wartime violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own the A-Team.
"You're sure you only want an hour?"
The question was still echoing in Hannibal's mind, forty-five minutes after Murdock had dropped them in the jungle near COSVN – the headquarters for the entire Communist military operation in South Vietnam. The last thing he'd said to their pilot was a firm "yes" and a warning to be careful. If – for any reason – he was not back to pick them up in one hour, they would never make it out of here alive.
"Charges are set on the west side," BA whispered as he dropped to his stomach in the red dirt.
Hannibal scanned the structures – small and poorly constructed, spread out over a wide area. The communication lines ran from one building to the next, but it was nothing like the headquarters that they reported to in Saigon.
"Were you seen?" Hannibal asked.
BA stared at him incredulously. "I'm still breathin' ain't I?"
A quiet laugh under his breath, and Hannibal looked away. "BA, it's nice to see you developing a sense of humor."
Thirteen minutes left.
"Where's Face?"
"He went to the north side." As he spoke, Hannibal was also working. Careful fingers wired together three separate lines. "He'll be back." He glanced up again, and fell silent as he saw several NVA soldiers pass from one building to the next. But they didn't look his way. They didn't expect to be attacked here, of all places. Hannibal's attention returned to his work. "He's got eleven minutes."
"How long you settin' that timer for?" BA asked.
"Fifteen."
BA frowned. That was cutting it close. Hannibal knew it. They'd planted enough C-4 here, at various points along those fuses, to level half the compound. The other half was going to be very pissed. Hannibal smiled reassuringly as he cast a look at the sergeant. "Murdock will be here," he said confidently. "And it'll be nice to watch the fireworks from the air."
"Hannibal!" The hissed whisper from Hannibal's left attracted his attention instantly. Face was running toward him, bent low. He dropped to the ground as he approached.
"What's the matter, Lieutenant?"
"We gotta get out of here," Face rushed. "The dogs picked up my scent."
"Did you get the charges planted?"
"Yeah, all the way to their communications bunker, like you said."
"Good." Hannibal checked his watch. Nine minutes. He set the timer on the detonator for fourteen.
BREAK.
Murdock didn't have to see the rocket launchers to know they were there. The wide-open field was certainly not the safest LZ he'd ever shot. Too close to the trees, he was just asking to get shot. Too far away and his team would get shot on the way out to him. "RT Cannon, this is Howlin' Mad One-Niner and you all had better be ready to get picked up in exactly," he paused to look at his watch, "two minutes or I am leaving your sorry asses in the jungle."
He smiled as he released the talk button, cutting communication with the ground. He would never leave them, and they knew it. But with all of Hannibal's insistence that he only needed one hour – even to the point of synchronizing their watches – he was interested to see whether they would actually be waiting for him at the end of the allotted time.
"Keep about a hundred yards back from the trees," he instructed the peter pilot. "Until we hear from them. We don't want to get shot out of the sky."
The other pilot clicked the mic once in acknowledgment and Murdock turned the channel back to the team's radio frequency. "Howlin' Mad to RT Cannon," he tried again. "Don't you guys make me come down into that jungle after you."
"Murdock! This is BA! Read? Over!"
"Read you loud and clear. Cuttin' it kinda close, aren't you?" He grinned as he checked his watch. "You only got thirty seconds left."
"Murdock!" The joking dropped from his thoughts and his tone as Hannibal's authoritative voice came over the radio. "Get us the hell out of here!"
"Roger. Pop smoke?" He turned to the copilot and switched over the radio again. "You get as close to that smoke as you can," he ordered. "And if we start taking fire, you take your hands off the controls. Clear?"
"Clear, Captain."
Murdock scanned the trees for any sign of incoming fire as the white smoke spread from the edge of the trees. "Smoke's up. Identify?"
"I see white."
"Affirmative."
"SITREP, Hannibal?"
"You don't get us out of here in the next four minutes, we're going to have a lot of really pissed off NVA looking to shoot at something. And it might as well be you."
"Captain! Two o'clock!"
The RPG went up, and past them before there was any time to react to the copilot's cry. Murdock growled and slid his hands and feet into the controls. "I got it."
Murdock shot the approach recklessly fast – but he knew his chopper. By the time he pulled it back, the Huey drifted within feet of where his team was waiting. He kept his hands steady, watching as another rocket came in. If they shot him before he had a chance to get out of here, there would be nothing he could do about it. He couldn't lift off until he had the word.
"Go, Murdock!"
Music to his ears. The final incoming rocket would've probably gone right through the windshield if he hadn't moved at just that moment. Pulling up to a safer height, he felt a hand clap over his shoulder. "You got it," he ordered the copilot, who obediently took the controls. Murdock glanced up at Hannibal. "What was that all about?" he asked, curious.
"Circle around," Hannibal grinned. "Up over COSVN. Wide, though. And don't get shot down."
Murdock translated that to actual numbers of altitude and coordinates for the peter pilot, and they circled over the jungle. "What are we looking for?" he asked, curious. Hannibal seemed entirely too pleased with himself for this to be an ordinary reconnaissance fly-over.
"Oh, you'll see it," Hannibal answered. He looked down and studied his watch. "Right about… now."
The explosion was immediate – the sound easily loud enough to be heard over the rattling of the chopper. As the smoke went up, Murdock smiled and Hannibal let a quiet chuckle escape his lips.
"Right on time."