Chapter 2

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey."

Somewhere in Blackadder's unconscious mind, a thought stirred. As he slowly awoke, he realized that there was something wrong. He could hear voices, smell the cold, septic air of the medical ward, and feel the warm sheets under him, but he saw only darkness. Then he realized that was because he had not opened his eyes.

His eyelids slowly opened to see a familiar, blurred figure looming above him.

"Got your nose," the figure mocked, nipping Blackadder's nose between two fingers and pushing the tip of his thumb between the fingers, as if Blackadder was some child. "Got your nose. Do you want it back?"

"George, stop arsing about up there and tell me what just happened," Blackadder snapped as he reacognized the figure. A Commissar might have the right to execute him at a whim, but mocking was something Blackadder would not put up with.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not the Commissar." The figure pried open Blackadder's eyelids and inspected his pupils with a flashlight. "Gregor House, Medicae."

"No need to apologized, believe me." Blackadder sighed in relief. "So, give it to me straight doc: how long have I got?"

"Ooh, I don't know. A case like yours? I'd say maybe eighty, a hundred years tops unless you get shot or something."

Medicae House picked up a coffee mug lying on the bedside table and inhaled deeply.

"Mmm. You just got to love the smell of Pryscura in the morning. Common byproduct of the Promethium refining process. Cheap to obtain, easy to apply. Tastes pretty sweet, so you just toss it onto the victim's food and wait for his sweet tooth to do the rest."

"Well, I feel fine right now, unless this is some sort of deathbed hallucination. Which would explain why the breath monster and Commissar peabrain haven't been pestering me yet."

"Yes, well I'm afraid you aren't so lucky. Whoever poisoned your coffee was being particularly thick about it. Sipping hot coffee means that you only take a small dose of Pryscura at a time, so it kicks into effect before you take a lethal dose, and heat has this annoying tendency to cause toxins to break down."

The medicae set aside the cane he had been using and sat down on the table beside him.

"So come on and spill. Who could hate the infamous Colonel Blackadder enough to poison him? Got any bodies in your closet? Bee in your bonnet? Heresy in your trunk? Or did you run out of sugar and decide that Pryscura would just have to do."

"Tell me, doctor, is this insolence covered by my health plan, or am I paying extra for it?"

"Actually, there's a ten throne co-op. Now let's get back on topic, shall we?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it past Baldrick to do something man's the galaxy's worst cook. Had to torture a Dark Eldar pirate that wouldn't respond to beatings, so I made him eat Baldrick's cooking for a week and he broke down like a little girl." Blackadder shifted in the bed and moved to get out. "If you'll excuse me, doctor, I must forsake your refreshing and entirely uplifting brand of personal abuse to throttle the bastard for nearly poisoning me to…"

Blackadder squinted at the coffee mug the doctor was holding, mouth left handing in the hair.

"Hang on a moment, Baldrick didn't make my coffee today. I nicked it from some prat who was about to send it to Cain. Bloody hell, of all the luck! If I'd just have left him be I'd -"

"Not have saved the life of the most heroic man in the galaxy," George finished, striding into the room. "Bloody hell, imagine that! Colonel Blackadder, saving the life of Commissar Cain! The papers will eat this one right up!"

"Of course, George. Nothing would have pleased me more." Blackadder deadpanned, hoping there was enough Pryscura left in the coffee for a fatal dose.

"This is going to be fun." House smirked, obviously enjoying Blackadder's displeasure.

Blackadder ignored him and resumed talking to George.

"So what do you think about it all - pardon the exaggeration, of course."

"I think you're a bloody hero, sir."

"No, what do you think will happen? What kind of investigation, who would want to bump off Cain, etc, etc. What are they saying on the ship?"

"Well, sir," George began, "It's rather funny you should mention an investigation, because as of this moment, the Inquisition has started rounding up suspects. It turns out we had a trio of Inquisitors traveling incognito as three holofilm actors doing research on the life of a Guardsman for their latest film. I hope this investigation won't delay production – I was so looking forward to The Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer: The Movie in 3D."

Blackadder raised an eyebrow with practiced grace. "Well! I can honestly say that I wasn't expecting the Inquisition."

"Nobody expects the Emperor's Inquisition!" An ornately robed woman shouted as she burst through the medical ward's doors, followed closely by two others. "Our chief weapons are surprise, fear, a ruthless efficiency, and a fanatical devotion to the Emperor!"

"And those nice red uniforms, I'm sure," Blackadder deadpanned. "Hello, auntie."