Two
"So I cut some empty diesel fuel barrels in half, used them as the runners. Plastic, so light, but strong. I used these wooden slats to create a platform to pile stuff on."
"Nice, BA." Hannibal took out his second from last cigar and lit it. BA stood proudly beside the sled in the middle of the workshop. Murdock started patting him on the back and smiling. BA shrugged him off and spoke again.
"Kept the runners pretty wide apart, distribute the weight, see, so it won't sink into the snow as much. And the nose should work." He pointed to the two bolted together sheets of plastic that formed a V shape on the front of the sled, to cut through the snow. Hannibal nodded, crouched down, looking it over critically.
"Let's load it up now, test it outside. I don't want to waste any time tomorrow. We'll test it then leave it back in here, ready for first light. Face, get the supplies."
No-one moved. Hannibal looked up at the group. Face and Decker were both looking down at the sled, arms folded, identical scowls on their faces.
"I'm pretty sure I just spoke." Hannibal said coldly, straightening up. "I'm certain I heard something."
Face looked at him, into his eyes, a blank and defiant look. Then he turned away to fetch the supplies he and Murdock had gathered. Hannibal watched Face go. Murdock gave a nervous laugh called "wait up Face" and followed him out.
BA bent over the sled again, making adjustments, tightening screws, checking bolts. Decker stayed, still frowning. Hannibal decided to make a small effort at reconciliation.
"Thanks for helping BA build this."
"Yeah, man." BA glanced up. "You did okay." He turned back to his work.
That counted as high praise from BA, Hannibal supposed. And it had probably been a nice change for him to work with an assistant who didn't ask crazy questions the whole time. Or complain about how this manual work was beneath him and would ruin his hands.
Decker hadn't responded to either Hannibal or BA. Hannibal tried again.
"It's a good sled."
Decker looked at him.
"That's not a sled, Smith. It's a bier."
Decker turned and walked out.
BA looked up at Hannibal.
"Beer?" He said.
"Other spelling." Hannibal said, grimly.
He hurried after Decker, caught up with the other colonel and grabbed his arm to stop him. He made Decker face him.
"Listen, Decker, you don't want to go, fine, stay here. But cut out that defeatist crap in front of my men."
"Smith..." Decker took a breath, as if trying to control his anger. "I can't stop you going, but I can't let you go without me either."
"Yeah, I know, because we're your prisoners and you can't let us escape."
Decker stared at him. "Christ, Smith, you're a bigger fool than your damn pilot. Yes, you're my prisoners. So I'm responsible for you. It's my duty to keep you alive." He snorted in disgust. "Didn't they teach you anything at West Point?"
Decker pulled his arm from Hannibal's grip and marched away.
~~~~
Hannibal woke to the alarm clock in the morning and felt guilty for sleeping well. Shouldn't he have had a sleepless night worrying? But the fact he'd managed to sleep so well just gave him confidence that he'd made the right choice.
He groped for the alarm clock and shut it off. The room was chilly, the heater turned down maybe a little too low. He lay for a while warm and cosy under the covers. The wind howled outside.
It was very tempting to snuggle under the bed clothes and go back to sleep. Did they really have to leave today? Was he rushing things? But the longer they waited the worse the weather would get, the shorter the days would be.
Did they really have to go at all? Maybe even the A-Team couldn't beat the winter. Should they just accept reality and settle down here until spring? But that meant accepting another reality. Prison. That was very real. It was all very well to say they would escape again, but would they? Would they escape when the army knew exactly where they were and had four months to plan how to drop the net on them and keep them inside it?
And four months here? Barely able to go outside? Being stuck here with Decker was a horrible enough thought, but there was a worse one. Could Murdock deal with that kind of confinement and isolation? Sure he lived at the VA, theoretically confined and isolated, but theory and practice were two different things.
No, they had to get out, that was the reality. So it was time to get moving. Two hours to first light. They were going to be ready to go on the dot. Hannibal got up and walked out of the bedroom, the cold of the floor perceptible even through his socks.
"Okay, everybody up!"
~~~~
"Hannibal," Face said, as they put away the dishes after breakfast. "One thing that bothers me. Leaving behind the artworks out there on the plane. It's not just the money," he added hastily, "they're irreplaceable."
"They're not going anywhere, Face. Who's gonna steal them out here?" Hannibal grinned. "The polar bears? They're all packed in crates. None of the crates broke open in the crash. They'll be fine till they can be picked up in the spring."
"Right. Okay," Face said. He closed the cupboard and looked around the tidy kitchen. As far as possible they intended to leave the station as they found it. That was only polite.
"Is that the only thing bothering you, Face?" Hannibal asked. "If you have doubts about this trip -"
"Hannibal, I always have doubts, about any of your plans, you know that." Face laughed. "Still, I guess you always come through. But..." He looked away, through the window. The first hint of dawn lightened the sky.
"But what?" Hannibal prompted.
Face turned back to look at him. His expression was serious.
"You can be very stubborn, Hannibal. If you're just doing this because Baker says you can't and because Decker says you can't..." He shook his head. "Well, that wouldn't be good, Colonel. That really wouldn't be good at all."
Face turned and walked out of the kitchen. Hannibal stood for a moment. He got the distinct impression he'd just been given a warning.
~~~~
They didn't make the same mistake as they had yesterday.
The day before they had tested the sled. In the workshop they stacked all the supplies on it, secured them carefully. Then they looked at the door to the outside. More specifically at the width of the door. And they'd turned back and started to unload the sled.
This morning they took it out on its side in the dim early morning light and then loaded it.
"Keep the tent where we can get at it quick," Hannibal ordered. "We'll have to put it up fast if bad weather comes down."
"When." Hannibal heard Decker mutter. He ignored that.
"Okay," Hannibal said as they piled on the last of the supplies. "I'm going to go and call the Mounties and tell them we're heading out. Give me the keys, Decker. I'll put them back in the office." He held out his hand. Decker looked at him then slowly he reached into his pocket and took out the keys, handed them to Hannibal.
"Thanks."
Hannibal went inside. The station was dim, the generator was off again. The last of the heat was dissipating. Hannibal walked slowly up the long corridor towards the radio room. He knew what Baker was going to say. "Don't go." Maybe... maybe Hannibal should start listening to him. Let him give all the arguments again. Let him persuade Hannibal to change his mind.
The radio was back on the battery pack. Hannibal tuned in and called up the Mounties. As he waited for a response he chewed things over. What if he did change his mind now? What would the team think of that? What would Decker -?
"Hello, station twelve, RCMP receiving." Hannibal blinked, taken by surprise by a female voice over the connection. He identified himself and asked. "Um, is Captain Baker there?"
"No, Colonel, he's not in yet."
"Oh." Hannibal bit his lip. "Are you a constable, Miss...?"
"Barlow. No, sir, just a radio operator."
"Okay, Miss Barlow. Well can you please tell Captain Baker that Colonel Smith's party headed out? Thanks. We'll call him in a month. Out."
He broke the connection. Then he sat and waited for a few minutes. No-one was about to talk him out of it. Not Baker and definitely not Decker. They were going.
He stood up, took the keys back to the office and left them on the station manager's desk. Then, closing doors behind him as he went, he walked back outside. It was full daylight now, sun glared off the snow and Hannibal pulled his goggles down over his eyes. The other four stood around, silent, waiting for him. Hannibal went and grabbed one of the ropes for pulling the sled.
"Let's move out." Three of the other men moved. One didn't. It took Hannibal a moment to identify who.
"Lieutenant?
Face pushed his hood back and took off his goggles.
"We're not going."
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© Elizabeth Charles 2006