Hot Air

"Hannibal, I hate to admit this, but I don't actually know how to fly this thing."

"I don't think you fly one of these, Murdock," Hannibal said, "I think it flies you."

Murdock opened the valve on the burner again. The propane fed flame roared and the bright yellow balloon rose higher. When Murdock shut off the burner peace descended. Murdock grinned.

Hannibal stepped carefully over BA, who was lying unconscious in the bottom of the basket, where they had tipped him head over heels in their rush to escape the rapidly gaining MP's. He looked over the edge of the basket at the knot of green uniformed men on the ground and chuckled as he imagined the look on Decker's face. The MP's didn't even dare fire at them. Too many civilians in the flotilla of balloons crowding the sky.

Only the A-Team, Decker must be thinking, only the A-Team could run out of gas with him right up their tailpipe, and get stranded right beside a hot air balloon festival.

Face, hearing the colonel's chuckle, rolled his eyes. "Yeah, this was a great idea, Hannibal." He made his voice as deep and gravelly as he could. 'Damn they're getting away, really, really slowly.' How long..." he switched back to his normal voice, "do you think it will take him to get back to his cars and come after us?" He looked down at the teeming field below them. "There's dozens of cars and vans and motorbikes down there. But, no, you had to commandeer a hot air balloon."

"Of course." Hannibal said, with a grin.

"Of course," Murdock echoed.

"Of course." Face sighed. He leant on the basket edge, still grumbling under his breath.

As the wind blew them gently across the summer sky Hannibal lit a cigar and smiled.

"Enjoy the ride, Face. And hey, if we run out of hot air, could you, you know, just talk into the balloon?"

end