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On the Jazz - Vol 02 Issue 11
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The totally unofficial A-Team electronic mail newsletter
***** Now in it's second year of publication !! *****
Reflector submission address: onthejazz
Administrivia: Nicole Pellegrini
Please use the following address for subscribe/unsubscribe
and back issue requests (do NOT send them to the reflector address):
pellegri
Also use that address if you wish to change your subscription status
to receive the newsletters only (or vise versa).
The A-Team Homepage: http://www.seas.upenn.edu/~pellegri/ateam.html
**Recently ranked in the Top 5% Of All Web Pages by Point Communications!**
The A-Team On the Web: http://www.xs4all.nl/~jmm/a-team/
**Home of the On the Jazz Newsletter Archives**
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DATE: February 27, 1996
ISSUE: 11
VOLUME: 2
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Greeting everyone! As they say, we're better late than never around
here...I just made it back into town this week after being in D.C. to catch
Dwight Schultz on "Nowhere Man" Monday night. Good episode, yet another
good appearance by Dwight, who also had just appeared in the new Outer
Limits last week in the episode "If These Walls Could Talk." If that's
not enough Dwight spottings recently, well, I also have heard to keep an
eye (& ear) out for the new audio book version of the "Unofficial X-Files
Companion" this coming month. Dwight, along with Nana Visitor (of ST:DS9)
are the readers of this 2 volume set, priced at $10 US each.
Also spotted Eddie Velez in at least a small part on "Walker, Texas Ranger"
last week. The UPN show he was in, "Live Shot," has met an "untidy
demise" recently. Not an especially good show, but Eddie was quite good
and had one of the only really interesting characters on it, IMO. No other
news on upcoming appearances by any of the Team, but as always I'll keep
you posted as soon as I hear of anything.
In other news, I got my copy of Mr. T's appearance on Howard Stern's E!
show from last month but haven't had a chance to transcribe anything from
it yet. But look for it in the next newsletter. The program was taped
sometime last year (right before he was heading to England, so there is no
mention of his being ill and he is really in super-charged form for the
show.) If anyone has this show taped off the radio, let me know, as the TV
version is not complete, I think.
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NEWS & ANNOUNCEMENTS
Last issue I made an announcement about the next A-Team Philly party, asking
people for what dates in March/April were good and if they were interested in
coming. Well, only 2 people got back to me on this, which was rather
surprising as many other people had been asking me about this recently. So,
I'm repeating the announcement this issue. I'm proposing that the party will
be held on either Saturday, March 30, or Saturday, April 6, based on any
feedback one way or another. The place, as last time, will be my apartment in
Center City Philadelphia. If you are interested in attending PLEASE make a
preliminary RSVP with me sometime in the next week. If I don't hear from
a few more people about this by the next newsletter, I'm going to cancel the
party (although those 2 people who I've talked to about it already are more
than welcome to come over & hang out that weekend anyway :-)
I've heard back from a lot of people who have either called Columbia House or
written them since last issue, which is great. I think they must be getting
flooded by requests for carrying A-Team videos by now. But if you haven't
written them yet, please do so! The address to send mail to is:
Columbia House
1400 North Fruitridge Ave
P.O. Box 1114
Terre Haute IN 47811-1114
Also, several people have suggested to me that a cable station like FX would
be a perfect place for the A-Team. You might want to call them at
1-800-fxfxfx1 if you can't get the show in your area currently.
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STORY TIME
Well, this week, on to part 2 of...
SHADOWS IN THE RAIN
by Michele Lellouche
Originally printed in "Closed for Remodeling #1," 1986
Face was on watch, perched on the meager pile of firewood, legs stretched
toward the fire, rifle across his knees. He scratched at his beard with
chill-stiffened fingers and tensed as he stared into the darkness around them.
It was eeire to look at a sky not lit up by a city's glow or tracer
flares from a Cobra gunship. Darkness that made him wonder where their
persuers were, how close. Darkness that chilled him more than the damp, cold
air. It was a beautiful night, especially with an almost full moon, but it was
on unfamiliar ground -- and that made it deadly.
He broke off his perusal of the sky when one of the horses snorted. He
stared at their mounts, seeing ears prick, nostrils flare. He got to his feet,
moving with the stealth with which he had always walked point. He came
alongside
his mount, rubbing the black nose to quiet him.
"Easy..." he breathed, then went still, listening. In Nam, he was always
the one on point, always the one to hear Charlie before they struck. He heard
now. "Yeah...yeah, I hear 'em." He rubbed the horse's neck, then turned
back to
the fire.
****
Impassable Bay was almost that, closed against Fulbright and his men with
the thick growth of pine trees, the standing deep water, the bone chilling cold
and darkness. The four-wheel drives finally had to be abandoned, and Fulbright
sent his men further into the depths on foot with electric lanterns. He led
them himself, hearing their grumbling and feeling their unease all too clearly.
Fulbright was moving faster than they were and was unaware of it. He slogged
through the swamp remembering, as his followers did not, the Delta in Nam. He
remembered, too, the men he was after.
They were legends in Vietnam, but they had been in I Corps while Fulbright
had been in IV. They were Special Forces, and he had a regular Army distrust of
Berets and their unorthodox tactics. They had rarely ventured into his
country,
and Fulbright had never seen them in action. He had a stubborn cynical streak
that was disinclined to believe anything he had not seen. So far all he had
seen of them was their humiliation of him. To him, they were only arrogant
fugitives who had humiliated the U.S. Army for much too long.
He froze suddenly when he heard the howl of a wolf, eerie anywhere under
a nearly full moon, but especially so in a swamp that had no wolves. The call
seemed to rise from the water under his feet and whistle mournfully through the
trees. He heard his men breaking far behind him, and he realized he was cut off
from them. An answering howl came from seemingly miles away as Fulbright
regained his pace. He kept going forward, trusting his second to do something
with the squad.
He broke from the woods almost half an hour later, landing completely alone
in the rain-soaked clearing. He surveyed it, smiling as he saw the signs of
habitation. He knelt at the dying fire and knew. He might be a cornered
hunter,
but a hunter he still was, and he could sense his prey.
****
Murdock kicked his horse into a slow trot, his saddlesore muscles no longer
even trying to go with the jolting ride. He slung his rifle over his shoulder
and drew the automatic from his holster, riding on a few dozen yards before
nonchalantly sending two shots into the air.
He and Face were playing an elegant game, circling the squad of persuers
using gunshots, a few grenades, and lightning charges to cause panic. /Age and
treachery will always overcome youth and skill,/ he thought, trying to remember
where he had heard it. /And teamwork will always triumpth,/ remembering
his and
Face's coordinated runs dividing the men.
He pulled his mount to a stop, rubbing the bay under his shaggy mane. He
felt sorry for the squad milling in the trees, irrationally, since they were
hunting him like an animal. Still, he had been there himself, running through
unfamiliar woods under fire. But it had been deadly fire then, not the kind he
and Face were laying down now. He stood in his stirrups wearily, trying to see
if the troops were regrouping, when he heard the mournful wolf cry once
more. He
grinned and sank back in his saddle; only someone who knew the voice could
detect
the conman lilt to the howl. Face could sell even in another tongue. Murdock
howled his trademark call in response and urged his mount back to a canter.
He circled their persuers and rode slowly up on the rendevous he and
Peck had
set on their way out. He shivered as fog rose up around him and his mount. He
was tired of swamps and cold, chilled through for so long that he was beginning
not to feel cold anymore at all.
He nearly went for his rifle as he cleared the trees and came up on
the sandy
knoll. Face held his rifle ready, his horse ready to leap as well.
Murdock, on
edge for so long, almost skidded over it on seeing the lieutenant practically
emerge from the mist. Carefully, the captain drew a deep breath and calmed
down
as Face lowered the gun and gave his trademark smile. Murdock's return grin was
shaky as he rode alongside.
"In a little deep, aren't we, Faceman?" Murdock hissed, a razor under
his jest.
"Over our heads again," Peck returned, razor edge matched. He turned his
horse. "B.A.'s up the trail. Hannibal's found Fulbright." Face urged his
horse
to a trot.
"We have met the enemy and he is ours..." Murdock murmured, following.
****
General Fulbright stood at the sound of hoofbeats coming at a slow trot
over the pine needles. He knew at least one rider was ahead of him, the
others behind him. He drew his automatic, his mouth set in a grim line. They
wanted a battle; he would give them one. The hoofbeats stopped.
He froze, then turned in a tight circle. Even in the light, he could
see nothing. He laughed at himself sharply as the hoofbeats started again.
Then he heard four rifle bolts slipped simultaneously in a circle around him.
This time as he circled, he saw his quarry. For a silent minute, he had to
stare at the four horsemen to be sure they were indeed the A-Team.
/"They are a law unto themselves."/ Fulbright thought of Decker's
parting words as the A-Team stared down at him. The legends of these men
suddenly became believable when he saw them now, no longer the laughing,
arrogant gang that had held him at bay so often. They were the A-Team they
had been in Nam -- hungry-eyed and gaunt, with muscled frames he could see
as the wind tore through the clearing, gazes that promised easy, random
violence planned to the highest degree, and hands that could fulfill those
promises. Bearded, hooded with fatigue and dying adrenalin, they looked more
dangerous than Fulbright had ever seen them. Defiant stare met defiant
stare as he settled his gaze on Hannibal Smith, blue eyes glinting with
dangerous laughter over a white-gray beard.
"Whaddya say, General?" Hannibal asked, his usual insolence worn to a
rasp. His rifle was crossed over his saddlehorn, steady even as his bay
tossed his head up and down.
"We've got you, Smith. For once we've got you," Fulbright snarled with
a confidence he did not feel.
"I don't know about you, General, but I don't exactly see any 'we' out
here except us," Hannibal returned archly.
"I have a whole squad out here behind me." He whirled at the sound of
hollow, derisive laughter from Peck and Murdock, stirrup to stirrup behind
him, and caught sight of B.A. at a right angle to Peck, a length away. All
three rifles were trained loosely on him, their eyes cooling rapidly.
"Had, General," Face corrected. "Murdock and I sent them around in so
many circles they'll be dizzy for weeks." His Faceman smile was sinister
under the dark beard.
"We gave them 'Good Hunting.'" Murdock grinned and then howled the
truly chilling howl that had scared even his teammates at first. It rose
all around the clearing and seemed to draw the moon even closer. Fulbright
swallowed -- he could believe all the reports of the pilot's insanity. The
general knew he had to bluff it out.
"It's not gonna matter. The whole National Guard is out after you, and
an infantry company from Bragg is coming intomorrow."
At that Hannibal shook his head. "I doubt the entire Guard is out here.
The Suwannee's at flood stage -- the Guard will be out there helping people,
which is what they're supposed to do. Maybe you should join 'em and take the
detachment from Bragg along with you -- let 'em do some good. You're
certainly not going to get us."
"You're too sure of yourself, Smith, you and your whole tribe."
Hannibal laughed, sitting back in his saddle. "Tribe, huh? I like
that." He looked at his team. /We certainly look like a tribe -- Geronimo's
at the end of the chase./ "And this is one chief who will never say 'We will
fight no more, forever.'" He jerked the reins, kicked his mount, and they
turned with precision just as Face and Murdock moved their own mounts,
leaping into the clearing and past Fulbright. Face tossed over his shoulder
as they went past, "And we will never surrender!"
B.A.'s larger horse was slower, and he was trotting past as the general
shouted, "I'll get you, Smith!"
"Not today, sucker!" B.A. barked over his shoulder, finally kicking
his mount to a gallop.
Fulbright had no choice but to watch as the A-Team disappeared into the
pines and the mist, leaving only the dead fire and hoofprints, their departure
echoed by a mournful howl -- one Fulbright had come to hate with fury.
To be continued...
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That's all for this week, everyone! "Shadows" will finish up next time,
after that I've got a bunch more stories from various sources lined up
for the coming weeks, so there's lots to look forward to.
Until next time, stay on the jazz...
nicole
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Quote of the week:
Amy: Hannibal, where are you going?!
Hannibal: Through the front door - where else!
Amy: *Stupid* question...
(from "Diamonds 'n Dust")
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The great Vorlon God Boojie has spoken.
ZOG!
