#3: 1917 A.D. A Wrong Turn
involving:
an unwelcome shock; a great deal of shouting, explaining, and more explaining; and yet another shock
The time machine came to rest with its customary rattling thump. Its rapidly blinking interior lights slowed to a regular pulse. Lord Blackadder got up from his toilet seat and took hold of the rope that opened the door.
"Well," he said with a slightly apprehensive look. "Here goes."
The three time travelers held their breath as Lord Blackadder lowered the door and peered out.
There was nothing to see. Beyond the door was utter blackness.
Lord Blackadder turned back to his companions in confusion.
"If it's night, shouldn't there at least be some stars or something out there?" he whispered. The darkness was so silent, whispers seemed appropriate. "I mean, even during a storm, I've never seen the sky this dark."
Baldrick came forward and stuck his head out of the door.
"It's not too dark for indoors, my lord," he said reasonably. He sniffed. "I can smell dirt. I think we're in some kind of hole."
Lord Blackadder felt a sudden wave of trepidation wash over him.
"What kind of hole?" he asked. "An empty hole? A tiger pit? The interior of a cave? The home of a savage grizzly bear?"
The professor spoke up.
"Do calm down, Edmund. Let's take this one step at a time. Do either of you happen to have an electric torch?"
Lord Blackadder turned to Baldrick.
"Well, Balders? You're the one who did the packing for this camping trip. Do we have a torch, as my uncle asked?"
Baldrick looked thoughtful.
"Well, I don't rightly remember, my lord. I'll just check the bag, shall I?"
"Bag? What bag?"
"The bag of things I collected from the basement while you were out showing your friends all the stuff we got on our first journey through time the second time round."
The professor looked confused, but Baldrick's unorthodox sentence seemed to make sense to his nephew, so he made no comment. Time travel made for awkward sentences. They came with the territory.
"What?" Lord Blackadder exclaimed. "Why did you do that?"
"Well, because I thought that you might be wanting to use the time machine again, my lord. I mean, why sit around at home when you've got a working time machine in your downstairs den?"
Lord Blackadder sighed.
"I must admit it wasn't too bad a thought. Especially considering that the result of your completely unprecedented flash of forethought just might come in handy in our present situation. So, what did you pack?"
Baldrick bent over and slid a small, lumpy sack out from the shadows behind the control panel. The professor looked at it hopefully. Baldrick set it down heavily on the narrow bits of wood between the two toilet seats and pulled open the drawstrings. Reaching an arm inside, he pulled out a dented, yellow construction worker's hat.
Rather expecting something like this, Lord Blackadder showed no surprise or confusion when he asked, "Right, Baldrick. And what's that for?"
"Well, my lord, I was thinking that just in case we happened to end up in the middle of a rocky landslide somewhen, this here hat just might come in handy."
"Even though it's got a dent in it roughly the size and shape of the Grand Canyon?"
Baldrick turned the canyon-shaped hat over in his hands, inspecting the massive dent carefully.
"Oh, I hadn't noticed that before."
"Ah ha. And what else have we got?"
Baldrick reached back inside and felt around. Then, with a slight grunt of effort, he pulled out...
"A stick," Lord Blackadder observed.
"That's right, my lord."
"And, pray, of what use could a fine, fat stick be to us at this time? Or, indeed, at any time?"
Baldrick's rough, though guileless, face took on a cunning look.
"Well, my lord, I was thinking that if we ever met up with another one of those Tyranny Saurous Rexes, we could cram this in its mouth and it would become helpless."
Lord Blackadder did not look impressed. "I see."
"It would also be quite good with giant sharks."
Lord Blackadder was rapidly losing patience.
"Yes, all right! Now, have you got anything that we can actually use in that sack of yours, Baldrick, or is this just some pathetic attempt to keep me from noticing that you've fouled up the dates again and landed us somewhere before the dawn of time?"
Baldrick looked shocked.
"Oh, no, my lord! I'm sure I've got something useful in here."
He reached back inside, feeling around with a look of intense concentration. He even stuck out his tongue a little. The two Blackadders waited as the objects in the bag clacked and tinkled and thumped against each other.
Finally, Baldrick's arm emerged triumphant, a thin, black cylindrical object clutched in its filthy fingers. Baldrick grinned.
"Here we are, my lord! A pocket torch, just the exact same shape as a pen. And look," he said, pointing it out, "it's even got a little plastic clip so it won't fall out of your pocket when you lean over."
Lord Blackadder tried to look patient.
"Lovely, Baldrick. But, does it work?"
Baldrick looked as if that thought had not occurred to him.
"I'm not sure, my lord. I'll just turn it on and see."
"Yes, you do that."
Baldrick pressed the tiny, soft indentation that served as the miniature flashlight's on switch with his thumb. To his utter delight, a tiny pinprick of white light appeared at one end.
"It works, my lord!" he stated as proudly as if he had been solely responsible for the concept, design, and construction of the device.
Lord Blackadder rolled his eyes.
"Oh, marvelous" he said, his voice positively soaked through with sarcasm, "We ought to be able to see for inches ahead with that light."
Baldrick grinned. Sarcasm always seemed to go over his head. Lord Blackadder strode over to him and snatched the torch.
"Give that to me, you grinning idiot. Now, let's see what's out there."
He stepped cautiously out of the time machine, the others following close at his heels. They stood in something of a huddle for a moment while they waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim light that emanated from the time machine's interior. Then, Lord Blackadder strode boldly forward, holding his pen light out in front of him as if it could somehow defend him from whatever lurked out there in the dark.
"Ooph!" grunted the professor from behind him. "Errrch!"
Lord Blackadder spun around, heart pounding.
"What?" he blurted. He cleared his throat and said, more calmly, "What is it, Uncle?"
His uncle was rubbing his shin and wincing.
"I seem to have bumped my leg against a table. But I'm all right."
Lord Blackadder's brow wrinkled.
"A table? So, we're not in a hole after all. We're in some kind of room."
Just then, there was a loud squeaking sound. Baldrick screamed.
"My lord!" he yelped. "There's rats in here! Big, black, rats with long, pointy teeth and horrible, nasty, wormy tails!"
Lord Blackadder shuddered. He hated rats.
"Did you see them?" he asked anxiously.
"No," Baldrick answered, still shaky. "But I stepped on one."
Blackadder hurried over to shine his mini torch at the mud under Baldrick's sneakers.
"Well, it's gone now," he said, relieved.
"I want to go back inside the time machine, my lord," Baldrick whined. "I don't like it here."
Just then, there came a series of terrific booms. The ground under them quaked and dirt fell onto their heads from somewhere above them. In the distance, muffled shouts and softer bangs could be heard. The shouts seemed to be getting nearer.
Baldrick started whimpering.
Lord Blackadder glared at him.
"Oh, shut-up and stop that blubbering, Baldrick. Quick, everybody, find somewhere to hide. I think someone's trying to get in here."
Baldrick and the professor dived under the table the professor's shin had discovered. It was a very close fit. Lord Blackadder shone his light frantically around the shadowy room, looking for a place to stow himself. However, as his pen light only lit up an area about the length of his pinkie finger, he was unable to spot one. Finally, he gave up and leaped into the time machine, closing the door up behind him with a resounding slam and leaving his two companions in complete darkness.
The professor and Baldrick looked at each other, or they tried to. At least, they pointed their faces towards the general area of the place where they knew the other was crouching.
"You don't think he'd leave without us, do you," the professor asked nervously.
"What, Lord Blackadder?" Baldrick looked shocked at the very suggestion. "Of course not!"
The professor breathed a sigh of relief.
"It is reassuring to know that my nephew is as noble in mind as he is in status."
Baldrick shook his head.
"No, it's not that, Mr. Lord Blackadder's Uncle. He don't know how to work the controls. Only I know that, because I'm the one what built them."
The professor nodded, somewhat disappointed.
"I see."
The voices outside were near enough to be understandable now. A man with a strangely familiar, rather nasal voice was speaking.
"Oh, no!" he shouted, somewhat frantically. "Some granite-brained moron's bunged up the entrance! Quick, George, help me shove this whatever-it-is aside!"
"Yes, sir!" came a second, slightly deeper voice.
"Hurry, now!" the first voice shouted. "Put your back into it! They're still trying to kill me!"
"Um, trying to kill us, I think you mean, sir," the second voice corrected politely.
"Never mind that! Shut-up and push!"
The noises outside were like the sound effects from a bad science fiction flick, the plot of which centered on an apocalypse in which the earth is overrun by colossal, exploding tortoises and gargantuan dragonflies that went wizz! as they passed overhead. The shaking continued, seemingly without end, and dirt, invisible in the blackness, continued to fall liberally from above.
Gradually, the two men outside managed to scoot the time machine far enough inwards for them to squeeze themselves into the small room. They also let in enough daylight to make the majority of the room visible. The shorter of the two raced for a small bunk at the far end of the room where he quickly exchanged his dusty, green hat for a slightly battered green helmet and tucked its strap snugly under his chin.
"Quick, George," he shouted to his taller companion, who was just standing blankly in the middle of the room. "Get in under the table and put your arms over your head." He looked frantically around the room. "Oh, God, where's Baldrick?"
Baldrick brought his head up out from under his arms at the unexpected mention of his name. Before he could respond verbally, though, someone else beat him to it.
"Here I am, sir!" a small voice piped from behind a greenish towel that was hanging by the sink. The towel was swept aside, revealing a short, spectacled, dirt-streaked figure in a tattered, greenish uniform. A floppy, ragged hat perched atop his very short, yet extremely greasy, dark hair. He seemed to be wearing every single one of his worldly possessions on his person. He stumped forward in his scratched-up boots and gave a small salute.
"Private Baldrick, reporting for duty, sir."
The first man was too frantic to even look exasperated.
"Don't report, Baldrick, get some cover! We're under attack, can't you see that? There's an air raid going on!"
"But, sir," said the dirty, ragged little man. "I can't get some cover."
"Why not?"
"Because there's two men crouching under the table where I usually hide, sir."
"What?" the first man exclaimed.
"It's true, Cap," said the tall man called George. "There are two men under the table. See for yourself."
There was another shrill, ear-piercing whizzing sound, followed almost immediately by another thundering boom. Further dirt rained from the ceiling.
The first man, who very closely resembled both Lord and Professor Blackadder except for the neatly trimmed, black mustache that covered his upper lip, screwed his face up into a truly piercing glare.
"I really don't have time for this," he said. "There's an entire army of Germans outside at the moment, just waiting for me to poke my head up out of this trench so that they can use it for target practice, and I can't take cover because the only available spot is taken by two strange men in odd clothes who have absolutely no business here."
He strode angrily on booted feet over to the table, bent down, and peered at the two men huddling beneath it. They had hidden their heads under their arms and covered their eyes with their hands to avoid his stare at close range.
"Right," he said. "I'll give you to the count of one to get out from under there and explain your business. If you refuse to cooperate, I will be fully justified in having you shot. Ready? Ooonnn-"
Baldrick and the professor scrambled awkwardly out from under the table and leapt to their feet rather clumsily.
The tall one called George stared at them, his goggly eyes all a goggle.
"I say, Cap!" he exclaimed. "If this doesn't beat all. These two chappies here look just like you and Private Baldrick!" He paused for a moment to reconsider his last words. "Or, they would do if you were both about ten or fifteen years older. And if Baldrick's hair was longer, and perhaps a bit cleaner."
Captain Edmund Blackadder, for that was the shorter man's name, had turned his piercing glare on Baldrick and the professor while George was voicing his observations. The two men were feeling quite intimidated by the time he spoke. His voice had a commanding tone, quite different from the soft, almost gentle tone the professor used or the bored, sarcastic tone that was Lord Blackadder's habitual mode of speech. Aside from the disparate tones, however, the three voices were so similar that had they been involved in conversation together, they could easily have been mistaken for the sound of one man talking to himself.
"Explain your presence in this trench," the officer ordered, "and explain what that great clock is doing blocking up the door during an air raid. And this had better be phenomenally good because I've been having a really bad year."
The professor looked at Baldrick who looked back at the professor who looked back at Baldrick who looked blank. Nervously, the professor cleared his throat, struggling to think of something to say that would sound more plausible to this rankled soldier than the truth.
His mouth opened, but before any sound could come out, the noise outside stopped completely. The silence was deafening. The three soldiers paused their inquisition to peer around the time machine and out the door. The professor closed his mouth.
"Thank God!" Captain Blackadder sighed as he turned back to his dugout. "It's over." Then, he remembered he had intruders to question. "Right," he said, rubbing his palms together. "Where were we?"
"Um, excuse me, sir," said George, who had been walking around the time machine and trying to peer into the narrow cracks between the planks of the door.
The Captain turned with a very small sigh.
"Yes, what is it, George?"
"Um, I think there's someone hiding in this clock-thing, sir," he said with his face pressed against the door. "I could swear I spied something move."
Captain Blackadder shot a glare over his shoulder to make sure his captives remained frozen in place, then strode over to George.
George took a step back and pointed to the crack he'd been using.
"There, sir. See for yourself."
The Captain had to raise himself up on his tip-toes in order to see through George's crack, but he did it in the most efficiently dignified way possible.
"All right, you!" he shouted through the door. "Don't think I can't see you! Out of there! I want to see you lined up with the others in ten seconds, or else."
George and Captain Blackadder stepped aside as the wooden door came thumping down.
Private Baldrick, who had the clearest view inside from where he was standing, exclaimed, "Why, it's a giant latrine!"
"What?"
Captain Blackadder stepped onto the ramp to look inside. He laughed, shortly.
"Well, what do you know. It is a giant privy."
He turned a particularly piercing glare at Lord Blackadder, who was standing rather stiffly beside the panel of pull-down controls.
"And you must be the janitor. Come on, beard-face, out of there."
Lord Blackadder stepped out of the time machine and took a place beside his companions with as much lordly dignity as possible under the circumstances.
"I would assume from your uniforms that this is not the late eighteenth century?" he inquired politely.
The three soldiers looked extremely perplexed. After a tense moment, George laughed.
"Of course this isn't the late eighteenth century!" he said with a cocky toss of his head. "This is 1917, don't you know, and you've landed right, smack in the middle of the Great War!"
He leaned towards his captain confidentially and discretely made a circling motion around his ear with his finger.
"Phew! This one's madder than a hatter who's lost his favorite hat!"
Captain Blackadder straightened.
"Well, be that as it may, it still does not explain what these people are doing here!"
He took an intimidating step forward.
"I want some answers, you three, and I want them now! You could have been our deaths just then, bunging up the door with your pointless clock-faced latrine! Now, explain your presence in this dugout!"
The three time travelers looked at each other, at a loss. However, before Lord Blackadder could open his mouth to release a hopefully plausible lie, fate intervened once more and they were rudely interrupted by a tremendous, roaring shout outside in the trench.
"By Neptune's watery wet bits, what in the world is this great clock doing here!"
"I'm sure I don't know, sir," came a strained, tense voice, "but you can be sure that I shall find out at once!"
"You do that!" the first voice roared. "And tell that fool Blackadder that if he doesn't remove this thing IMMEDIATELY, I will see him shot at dawn before a firing squad! Baaah!" he brayed.
The peevish voice seemed pleased to hear this.
"Yes, of course, sir. My pleasure, sir."
George and Private Baldrick came to attention as a tall, thin man dressed in a uniform so clean and neatly pressed it looked as if it had never experienced the rigors of combat or even spent one night in a muddy dugout in a trench (which, by the way, it hadn't) squeezed his way into the dugout. His hat had a red strip around the middle. He was obviously a member of the General Staff. He gave a start when he caught sight of the three strangers standing stiffly by the table. Then, he turned a cold, questioning look at Captain Blackadder.
Captain Blackadder returned his look with a false smile.
"Why, hullo, Darling," he said, and smirked.
The man's left eye gave an involuntary twitch. Captain Blackadder seemed not to notice.
"And what is it that has torn you from your beloved desk this lovely afternoon?"
The tall, brown-mustached man screwed his eyes up into a squinty glare and shook a very rigid finger at him.
"That's Captain Darling to you, Blackadder," he sneered. "And for your information, I'm here to tell you that General Melchett is outside and he says that if you don't remove that giant clock from your door immediately, he will have you shot."
The chronically tense officer seemed to brighten at this thought.
"Is that so?" Captain Blackadder asked. "Well, tell the General that I would be more than happy to do so just as soon as I find out what it is doing there in the first place and how it was brought in-for you will notice that it is both wider and taller than the door."
Captain Darling looked uncomfortably surprised and more than a little suspicious when he noticed there was truth in the Captain's statement.
"Are you trying to tell me that you have absolutely nothing to do with this?"
"Yes, I am."
Captain Darling looked down at Captain Blackadder over his nose.
"It's interesting that you should say that, Blackadder."
"And why is that?"
A small grin tweaked the corners of Captain Darling's mouth.
"Because this whole situation sounds rather like another one of your tiresome plans to get out of performing your duty."
Captain Blackadder straightened.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Darling. I am a professional soldier and as such have always endeavored to perform my duties to the best of my ability. In fact, Darling, my duty is precisely what I was doing when you squeezed your way in here. At that very moment, I had just commenced the process of ascertaining the answers to all your questions from these three intruders," he made a brusque gesture toward the time travelers.
The time travelers looked at each other in discomfort. The removal of the Captain's paralyzing glare had allowed the professor's brain time to start working, though, and now his round eyes went wide.
"Oh, my God," he whispered through his fingertips. "I believe I recognize that dark soldier."
Lord Blackadder seemed almost interested.
"Yes? Who is he?"
The professor looked pale and shaken.
"It's Uncle Blackie!"
Lord Blackadder squinted his eyes and peered critically at the dark soldier.
"You mean that's Captain 'Blackie' Blackadder? Hero of Umbodo Gorge?"
The professor grinned.
"Amazing, isn't it? Our family's own living, breathing history – and its playing out right in front of us!"
Baldrick nodded his agreement, though his eyes were riveted to Private Baldrick who was standing next to Lieutenant George beside the time machine.
Captain Darling and Captain Blackadder had continued with their sparring match, for it was more of a sparring match than a conversation, while the time travelers whispered to each other and, so, hadn't heard a word they'd said. Which was a pity, really, because their whispers had held the answers to many of the questions they were now shouting at each other.
Captain Darling turned his rigid, shaking finger towards the time travelers.
"And just who are these persons?" he asked with a cold squint. "Relatives of yours, Blackadder?"
"What, these bug-eyed, beetle-browed freaks? I've never seen them before in my life!" Captain Blackadder retorted angrily.
Captain Darling smirked.
"It's funny you should describe them that way, Blackadder, because I couldn't help noticing what a strong resemblance they bear to you."
Captain Blackadder drew himself up, clearly offended and terribly imposing in his uniform.
"They look nothing like me! Exactly what are you implying, Darling? That I invited my family here to the trenches in the middle of a war and just for larks we decided to bung up the door with an enormous clock the presence of which, unless it was constructed right on this spot in the past fifteen minutes, is an utter physical impossibility? It doesn't look compactable, does it?"
"Well, if they're not your relatives, what are they doing in your trench?" Captain Darling asked in a maddeningly reasonable tone. "And what is that gigantic clock doing blocking up your entrance way?"
"I am certain that all these queries can be answered quite easily by the intruders you are keeping me from questioning!"
"Well, they had better have a mighty fine explanation for all this. I can assure you that the General sounded quite serious when he threatened to have you shot."
Captain Blackadder swallowed.
Darling's smirk broadened as he continued, "Don't forget that you are the officer in charge here, and so are responsible for all happens." He drew himself up with a snively look of haughty superiority.
Captain Blackadder ground his teeth.
"What is taking so long in there, Darling?!" the General boomed angrily from beyond the time machine. "I told you to find out what's going on in there, not to have a have a four hour chat! Somebody remove this thing! I want to get in!"
The four soldiers moved at once to the time machine, pulling it inwards inch after strenuous inch until the gap was wide enough for the General to squeeze through. The General was a very tall man with a red face, an extremely bushy mustache, and a rather crooked nose. His short, dark hair was parted in the middle and neatly oiled and combed back from his forehead. He seemed to be in rather a bad temper. However, even with all this taken into account, the time travelers couldn't help noticing what a remarkable resemblance this man held to the Roman soldier Melchettus, whom they had seen back in the year 43 AD.
"Attention," Captain Darling barked.
All soldiers present snapped to attention. The time travelers looked nervous. General Melchett strode forward.
"Blackadder!" he bellowed, advancing towards the stiffened, yet seemingly unintimidated Captain. "What do you mean by blocking up your door like that? I couldn't get in!"
"I do apologize, sir," he answered briskly. "But then, neither could we when we were trying to take cover during the recent air raid. Lieutenant George and I had to push it aside as the bombs were dropping above our heads before we could enter."
"Well, then, you shouldn't have put it there, should you?!" the General roared.
"But, sir, I am trying to tell you that we did not put it there. In fact, we have no idea how it even got here. But, we were just about to find out from these three civilians who seem to have come with it."
"CIVILIANS!" General Melchett looked shocked. "What! What are you doing, letting civilians in this trench, Blackadder? And during an air raid, no less!"
"Sir, I did not let them in."
"Then why are they here?"
"With respect, I would try asking them that, sir."
General Melchett looked angry.
"This is very shoddy work, Blackadder, very shoddy! I would have expected better from an experienced soldier like you. What has happened to discipline, responsibility? Things like this wouldn't happen if you were more alert. Why, back in my Cambridge days, if a linebacker wasn't alert, he'd get the stuffing knocked out of him! This is no way to win a match, Blackadder, no sir! Alertness, that's the key! Alertness! And durable shoulder pads. Baaaaaah!"
Captain Blackadder's eyes had taken on a dark, smoldering cast.
"Yes, sir," he answered.
Captain Darling, who had taken up his customary position behind the General's broad shoulder, looked smug.
"Though," the General continued, taking no notice of the Captain's affirmation, "it is quite an attractive clock, I must say."
"It's not a clock, sir," piped Private Baldrick from the corner beside Lieutenant George. "It's really a giant latrine."
"What?" boomed the General with interest. He strode around it and peered inside. "Why, so it is! Even better! Darling!"
Captain Darling straightened with a slight twitch of his eye.
"Yes, sir?"
"Take this down!"
Captain Darling pulled out a pad and held a pen poised half-eagerly over the paper. The General continued speaking without pause as his personal secretary performed these familiar actions.
"I want you to order me one of these for my office. And see if they come set on wheels. This could be very handy to me. You know how it is, with my wooden bladder, what!"
Captain Darling grimaced. His eye twitched. "Yes, sir."
General Melchett rubbed his large palms together.
"Well, I suppose that's all. Good afternoon, Blackadder."
He started to go out. Captain Darling looked pensive.
"But, sir-?"
General Melchett turned around, slightly annoyed.
"Yes? What is it, Darling?"
The man's eye twitched again.
"Sir, I thought you'd come to tell Captain Blackadder about-"
The General interrupted him with a very loud, "Oh, yes! I nearly forgot!" He strode back over to Captain Blackadder. "I came to tell you that in response to Gerry's attack on us today, we are going to strike back tomorrow with all we've got!"
Captain Blackadder looked cynical.
"Are you certain that's wise, sir?"
"Of course I am! We've been standing still for far too long!"
"Three years to be precise," the Captain muttered under his breath.
"Exactly!" the General bellowed. "It's about time we pushed ahead! So, tomorrow, we shall cross over No Man's Land and go over the top to glory! Baaaaaaaaah!"
Captain Darling clapped obsequiously. George and Private Baldrick broke out of their attention stance to clap enthusiastically along with him, George adding a boisterous "Hoorah!" into the bargain. The General basked in their applause.
"Right!" the General exclaimed. "Get a good night's sleep, boys! I want bright eyes and bushy tails for tomorrow's advance! Come along, Darling, it's time to go."
Captain Darling's eye twitched once more as he turned to follow the General out.
Once they were gone, Captain Blackadder let out a deep groan. He seemed about to comment when his glare fell upon the time travelers once more. He turned towards them ominously, and strode forward until he was standing practically nose to nose with them. He paced slowly up and down the line for several long seconds before he spoke.
"Right," he said. "Now, can any one of you tell me just what is going on here?"
"I can, sir," Private Baldrick said from behind him."
"I wasn't asking you, Baldrick, I was asking these intruders here."
"Yes, sir. But I do know what happened."
The Captain turned reluctantly, clearly not believing a word of it.
"Very well, then, Baldrick. I'll ask you. What happened?"
"Well, sir, it's like this. I was standing in the corner, there, setting out my rat trap, when everything around me went all wibbly."
"Wibbly." The Captain repeated the unfamiliar term with palpable distaste. "Yes. And could you define, 'wibbly', Baldrick?"
The unkempt Private looked thoughtful.
"Well, it's sort of wavy-like, you know? Sort of like pavement on a hot day."
"Well, Baldrick, that's not so surprising then. Things always seem wibbly around you. A result of never having bathed, no doubt."
"I'm not with you, sir."
"You never are, Baldrick. Now, get on with it. What happened after everything went 'wibbly'?"
"Well, it got very dark and there was a loud thump. After a while, a door came down from that giant privy there and these three men came out. The old one that looks like you bumped his leg on that table there, and the other one who looks like you called him 'uncle'. The one with the strange shoes is called Baldrick, like me. He called the bearded one who looks like you 'Lord Blackadder'. When they heard the bombs and airplanes overhead, Uncle and Baldrick hid under the table, and Lord Blackadder ran into the privy. Only, they called it a time machine. Then, you and Lieutenant George came in."
Captain Blackadder looked at the scruffy, little, spectacled soldier, not comprehending. Then, he turned to Lieutenant George.
"George, did you get any of that?"
"Well, sir," he said, "as far as I can tell, these three chappies here appeared out of nowhere in a giant time machine, which I suppose is a fancy name for a clock that looks like a water closet on the inside, the two that look like you are related, and at least one of them has the same last name as you. Also, the little one with the funny shoes has the same name as our own Private Baldrick. Other than that, I didn't understand a thing."
The Captain looked unhappy.
"Unfortunately, that's all I could get out of that jumbled mound of syllables as well."
"Private Baldrick's right, though, Captain Blackadder," Baldrick spoke up.
The soldiers looked at him as if he were some sort of strange smelling fungus that had just popped unexpectedly up out of the ground.
Captain Blackadder turned his attention back to the time travelers.
"All right, I want a full, coherent explanation and I want it now. No more of this shilly-shallying. You!" he said, pointing directly at Lord Blackadder. "You seem to be the ringleader of this little party, standing there so silent and cocky. You do the explaining. And, as I said, this had better be phenomenally good."
Lord Blackadder straightened and tugged the wrinkles out of his, now slightly dusty, velveteen dinner jacket. His brain felt empty as a void in which a vacuum cleaner had been at work clearing up whatever specks of matter might have wandered in by chance. He had to stall for time in order to come up with something good to say to this rather irritable soldier.
"Well, before we get into explanations," he tried, "I think a few introductions are in order." The Captain glared darkly at him. Lord Blackadder cleared his throat. "After all," he continued, "we are guests in this trench."
"He's right, sir," said George. "Introductions do seem to be in order, if proper etiquette is to be followed."
Captain Blackadder seemed ready to explode.
"Fine!" he cried. "Introductions! Unwelcome intruders, this tall moron standing beside me is Lieutenant The Honorable George Colthurst St. Barleigh-"
"Tally ho, pip-pip, and Daniel Boone's your uncle, it's jolly nice to meet you all!" George interrupted boisterously. He held out a jovial hand and the time travelers each shook it in turn.
Captain Blackadder gave him a glare that could have frozen the helium in a child's balloon into a small, hard lump.
"Finished?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, sir! Quite."
"Good."
He turned to Private Baldrick, who grinned good-naturedly behind his dusty spectacles.
"And this escapee from the London Zoo is Private S. Baldrick. I wouldn't advise you to attempt to satisfy your curiosity as to what the S in his name stands for. You will find you are better off not knowing."
Private Baldrick looked as if he had just been given a great compliment. The time travelers smiled weakly at him, except for Baldrick who seemed somewhat star-struck.
The Captain continued.
"And I am Captain Edmund Blackadder, the unfortunate officer in command of this sorry trench. Now, make your introductions short and snappy then get right on into your explanation. I am starting to lose the last of my ever waning supply of patience."
Lord Blackadder nodded.
"Very well. To my left stands my uncle, Edmund Blackadder, professor of English History at Oxford University."
"See," whispered Private Baldrick with a nudge to Lieutenant George. "I told you they was related."
Captain Blackadder turned coldly to his subordinates.
"You two are not to speak from this moment on unless I give you my express permission. Is that clear?"
The two looked uncomfortable. The Captain sighed very deeply.
"Permission to speak."
"Yes, sir! Quite clear, sir!" they chorused.
Captain Blackadder shook his head and turned back to the time travelers.
"Go on," he commanded.
"The scruffy little man in the sneakers by the table is my servant. By some strange coincidence, his name is S. Baldrick as well, and if what the S in his name stands for is anything like what the S in your Private's name stands for, I must say you are quite right in your view that it is not worth knowing."
The Captain was not amused.
"And yourself?"
"I," Lord Blackadder stated, drawing himself up, "am Lord Edmund Blackadder, of Blackadder Hall."
The Captain looked unimpressed.
"I can't say I've ever heard of you. But then, you could be lying. Now, get on with your explanation. There shall be no further interruptions."
Lord Blackadder's brain was still feeling ticklishly vacuous. Under the cold, brown eyes of his great-uncle, however, his mouth started to speak before his brain had time to think of what would be best to say. By the time his brain caught up to his mouth, he had pretty much told their entire story, from the bizarre Roman battle to where they were just about to leave little Edmund in the alley, meaning to meet with him at the palace gates the next day. Fortunately, his mouth had had the sense not to let slip any of the secret, personal ambitions which were the main reason for their entire adventure. His brain breathed a sigh of relief.
"So," his mouth was concluding, "the next thing we knew, we were here. So, now you see the reason for my question earlier, relating to your uniforms and the late eighteenth century."
There was absolute silence for a moment. Then Captain Blackadder, who had been sitting on his bunk with his arms crossed (and one finger toying with the butt of his gun) listening to the story in a somewhat incredulous fashion, gave him an unmistakably incredulous look. He raised one dark eyebrow.
"That," he stated, "has to have been the biggest load of total codswallop mankind has been subjected to since the invention of the horoscope."
The professor and Baldrick looked uncomfortable. Lord Blackadder looked haughty. The one time he actually told the truth, and he wasn't believed! He breathed out sharply through his nose with cynicism.
"Typical," he thought.
George spoke up.
"Well, sir, it does explain how they managed to squeeze the thing in here. And why they look so much like Private Baldrick and yourself. Imagine! Getting a visit from your own descendants from almost a hundred years in the future! It's absolutely incredible! And I must say, it was a rollicking good story! I especially liked the part about the elephants!"
Private Baldrick grinned.
"And I liked the part when Baldrickus wiped clean the professor's turdy shoes." He gave a rather snorty chuckle. "That was funny!"
Their Captain tried to look patient through his annoyance. "Well, Baldrick, if that so-called story of theirs is true, it means that your family has not done much evolving since the days of the ancient Romans. If I'm not mistaken, you still do eat dung, don't you?"
"Only on special occasions, sir," Private Baldrick replied seriously.
"Yes. The rest of the time you stick to trench rats."
Private Baldrick grinned widely, showing yellow, filmy teeth. "That's right, sir."
Captain Blackadder turned his head with a slight shudder.
"God save us," he moaned. Then, he bit the inside of his cheek, closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply through his nose. When he looked up, he seemed slightly calmer.
The professor stepped forward, thinking it was as good a time as any to return the subject to its previous track.
"So you see, sir, our presence here is a complete accident. If you would just let us re-enter our time machine, we would be able to return to that poor boy we left behind and leave you to your duties."
The Captain seemed to consider this. Lieutenant George looked excited.
"Oh, please, sir!" he pleaded. "I would so like to see a real time machine in action, what! Zim- skiddel-ee-dee-zoom and they're off into the depths of time and space! It really is quite exciting, isn't it, Captain?"
A sly look had entered into the Captain's skeptical brown eyes. He smiled without parting his lips.
"Very well," he said. "Let's see you make this great box vanish into thin air. I must admit, that is something I am really quite interested to witness."
Lord Blackadder fixed him with the mirror image of the look described above, except for the part about the skeptical brown eyes. His brown eyes were actually looking rather smug.
"All right, Captain." He leaned over to Baldrick and whispered, "This'll show that smarmy son of bachelor."
The professor, who had overheard, straightened, scandalized.
"Really, Nephew!" he whispered, "He's your own great-uncle! Show some respect."
"Perhaps I would, if he'd do the same for me. Besides, he doesn't believe we're any relation to him. Come on, let's get going before he changes his mind and decides to interrogate us some more."
The three soldiers watched as the three time travelers strode up the ramp and entered the time machine. Attempting to show off a bit in front of the Captain, Lord Blackadder turned to Baldrick, who had taken up his place by the controls, and said theatrically, "Right, Baldrick! Set the date and let's be off!"
Baldrick, not quite catching on to the proper mood, turned to his employer with a rather blank look.
"And which date is that, my lord?"
Lord Blackadder pursed his lips.
"1778, of course, you toad-brained little gimp!" he hissed through his teeth. He turned a false smile towards the soldiers, who were watching their every move with the deepest interest.
Baldrick looked enlightened.
"Oh," he said. "Right."
The professor walked over to him with a kind smile.
"I'll assist, if you don't mind," he offered.
"No thanks," said Baldrick. "I've got this well in hand."
"We'll see about that," Lord Blackadder muttered to the wall as Baldrick pulled the lever that would start them off. The wall gave no reply, save for a slight creak as the time machine started juddering.
Baldrick gave Lord Blackadder a confident wink as the shuddering smoothed out. Then, they both went to sit down. The professor remained standing for a moment, bending over or standing on his tip-toes now and then as he inspected the controls, then he joined them on the toilet. He seemed happy.
"Maybe now, we'll get somewhere," he said cheerily.
"One can only hope," Lord Blackadder said, unhopefully.
Lieutenant George rubbed his eyes. He just couldn't believe it. One moment the giant clock was there in front of them, as solid as Chuck Norris's abs, the next it had vanished in a wibble of light and sound.
"I say!" he exclaimed rather inarticulately, completely forgetting the Captain's earlier order for him not to speak until he was first spoken to. "I jolly well say! That was just...well...it was just..." He broke off to think of the proper phasing for the meaning he wished to get across. "Well, it was brain-crunchingly fantastic, that's what I say! What do you say, Cap?"
The Captain seemed to have frozen in place, a strange look of wild disbelief swimming in his widened eyes, though his lips were still twisted into a skeptical smirk.
Private Baldrick nudged him gently.
"Captain Blackadder?" he queried.
The Captain didn't move.
George and Baldrick looked at each other, rather at a loss.
"I think he's dropped off, sir," said Baldrick.
George shook his head.
"No, I don't think so. See, his eyes are open. And he's standing up."
Baldrick nodded, then looked thoughtful.
"Well, horses stand up when they're sleeping, don't they, sir?"
George laughed.
"Yes, but the Captain is hardly a horse, Baldrick. Or a fish for that matter."
"Why a fish?"
"Well, fishes sleep with their eyes open."
"They do?"
"Yes. Well, that's what I've heard. But, as I was saying, the Captain is neither a horse, nor a fish. Are you, Captain?"
The Captain remained frozen.
George looked concerned.
"You don't think he's dead, do you?"
"How do you mean, sir?"
"Well, he's not moving. Do you think the shock of seeing the time machine vanish has killed him?"
Before Baldrick could answer, a hand reached out and grabbed George tightly by the arm. George started, then tried to squirm free. The hand held fast, refusing to come dislodged. George ran his eyes up the hand's arm, trying to see who it was attached to. Once he had, he breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, the Captain had defrosted.
"George," Captain Blackadder rasped with some difficulty. He seemed rather ill.
"Yes, sir?" the lieutenant asked brightly.
"Please tell me you just saw what I did."
"You mean the time machine vanishing into thin air with a wibble of light and sound?"
"Yes, that's the one."
"Then, yes, I jolly well did. And, as I was just saying, and Private Baldrick can vouch for me here, it was brain-crunchingly fantastic!"
Baldrick grinned.
"It was as fantastic as a turnip what's grown into the exact size and shape of General Melchett's mustache."
Captain Blackadder nodded weakly.
"George," he said as he staggered to his bunk, "I'm going to bed to sleep off whatever it is I ingested to trigger such a series of hallucinations. If I get a call from Headquarters, tell them I've gone temporarily insane."
"Yes, sir. But-that wasn't a hallucination, sir."
"Oh, yes it was, Lieutenant! If it had been real, that would mean that I have just missed out on a miraculous, once in a lifetime opportunity to get out of this crazy war with my skin intact in such a way that those fools at Headquarters would be totally unable to track me down and have me shot as a deserter. Those men who have just vanished into thin air could have taken me to any time I wished! Since this thought is too soul-crushingly depressing to even consider as fact, this whole experience has to have been a hallucination. Understand?"
George nodded, uncomprehendingly.
"Yes, sir," he said. "Private Baldrick and I will leave you to rest, then."
Captain Blackadder sat heavily on his bunk with a low groan and started to raise his feet. Then, he paused. A sly smile started to grow on his slowly brightening face.
"Insanity!" he cried. "That's it!"
"Beg pardon, sir?" asked George, turning back from the door.
Captain Blackadder shot his subordinates a crafty grin.
"I've just come up with a plan to get out of that suicide charge the General has scheduled for tomorrow!"
"Is it a cunning plan, sir?" asked Baldrick.
Captain Blackadder rubbed his palms together.
"Oh, yes," he said, and grinned. "Very cunning."
Until next time! :)