The Alex Kilgour Jokebook

by Allan Cole

  "It was a good holiday, but a strange one," the Emperor said, topping off his mug of Stregg and pushing the bottle over to Ian.

  "Strange how, boss?" Ian asked, filling up his own mug and taking a tentative drink. The fiery Bhor liquid hit bottom and bounced a couple of times, then settled in so its warmth could spread.

  "Well, you know I love to fish for bass, so I spent a small fortune stocking my lake with those bad boys," the Emperor said. "They can give you a helluva fight. I was eager to get out and at them, but that Lupus Cluster business descended on me so I was busy for a few cycles."

  He lowered the level of his mug, wiped his mouth, and filled it up again to the brim. Offered it to Mahoney, who shook his head. Not yet. His belly was still roiling.

  "Anyway, I finally got out to the lake and settled in," the Emperor continued. "The fish were jumping like a twenty-foot Gurion was after them, but they kept shaking loose of my line.

  "Finally, I ran out of bait. I looked around to see what I could do, and saw a cottonmouth swimming by with a fat frog in his mouth. I'm thinking, with a frog in his mouth he can't bite me. So I grab him behind the head, get the frog loose and dump it in my bait bucket.

  "Then I realize that I'm in real trouble. How do I let go of the snake without it biting me? Then I see my flask of Stregg, get it out, get the cap off with my teeth and I pour a few drops into the snake's mouth.

  "Well, his eyes rolled up and he looks kind of dazed so I put him in the water and he swims away. No harm done and I get back to fishing."

  "That was quick thinking, boss," Mahoney marveled.

  "But you haven't heard the whole thing," the Emperor said. "I was sitting there fishing away, when all of a sudden I feel a bump against my boot. I look down, and lo and behold it's that clottin' snake!

  "Except this time he has two frogs in his mouth."

  A long time later, when Mahoney finished laughing, he wiped his eyes, then had a thought.

  "Wait a minute, boss," he said. "Since when did they have cottonmouth snakes in Oregon?"

  The Emperor fixed him with a royal stare. "Are you casting doubt on my fish story, Ian?"

  "No sir. Not me. Never crossed my mind. Here, boss... how about another round of Stregg?"

  And so they finished that bottle, cracked another, and toasted old friends and fish stories.

  *****

  From The Alex Kilgour Toxic Scrapheap

  The Setup:

  While trying to settle on which "Pope" will end up running The Lupus Cluster, Sten and Alex put together a mercenary army funded by one of their "clients." The recruits are not only from different worlds - and species - but from different branches of the military. All traditional enemies, even when allied. Alex and Sten are hard put to get everyone straightened out and reading from the same fiche.

  The Joke:

  Alex has just stopped into a brawl over which was the superior service , knocked heads together, then sat the combatants down, poured Narcobeer all around, then told this tale for their edification:

  "A marine general, an army general an' a navy admiral waur discussin' fa hud th' tooghest men. Th' army general says, 'Alrecht, I'll prove th' army has th' tooghest men in all th' Empire. He shouts: "Private, gie ower haur!"

  The private reports as ordered, "Yes sairrr?"

  The general says, "See 'at soldier ower thaur? Kill heem!"

  Withit hesitatin', th' private kills th' poor mon.

  The general says to th' oth'rs, "See? 'At cheil has balls!"

  The marine general says, "That's naethin'. Private, gie ower haur!"

  The marine private reports, "Yes, sairrr?"

  The marine general says, "See 'at cheil ower thaur? Kill heem an' then kill yerself."

  Withit blinkin', th' marine private pulls ought his willy-gun an' blows away th' guy, 'en turns th' rifle oan himself an' unloads a roond into his head.

  "The marine general says, "See? Noo 'at cheil has real balls!"

  The admiral says, "That's naethin'."

  He calls tae a seaman high up oan a tower, "Yey, seaman! Jump aff that tower!"

  The seaman answers, "Excuse me, sairrr?"

  The admiral repeats, "Jump aff 'at tower!"

  The seaman replies, "Clot ye, sairrr!"

  The admiral says, "See? 'At cheil has balls an' he's got brains too!"

  *****

  When Chris and I were working in Hollywood we made frequent use of the Army Film Liaison offices. There were always at least six jokers staffing the office staff at any one time. One day we saw a poster on the wall. Title: Murphy's Laws Of Combat Operations. Immediately we vowed to steal them and adapt them for Sten.

  Along about the Wolf Worlds we thought we had a good place for them and at one point they were even in the book - posted on a barracks room wall. But, by the time The Wolf Worlds hit the presses they were gone -cut for space.

  So, here they are now in all their bleak - but hilarious - glory.

  STEN'S LAWS OF COMBAT OPERATIONS

  Friendly fire - isn't.

  Recoilless rifles - aren't.

  Suppressive fires - won't.

  A sucking chest wound is Nature's way of telling you to slow down.

  If it's stupid but it works, it isn't stupid.

  Try to look unimportant; the enemy may be low on ammo and not want to waste a bullet on you.

  Never forget that your weapon was made by the lowest bidder.

  If your attack is going really well, it's an ambush.

  The enemy invariably attacks on two occasions: when they're ready and when you're not.

  Five second fuses always burn three seconds.

  The easy way is always mined.

  Teamwork is essential; it gives the enemy other people to shoot at.

  Never draw fire; it irritates everyone around you.

  If you are short of everything but the enemy, you are in the combat zone.

  When you have secured the area, make sure the enemy knows it too.

  Incoming fire has the right of way.

  No combat ready unit has ever passed inspection.

  If the enemy is within range, so are you.

  The only thing more accurate than incoming enemy fire is incoming friendly fire.

  Things which must be shipped together as a set, aren't.

  Com units will fail as soon as you need fire support.

  Anything you do can get you killed, including nothing.

  Make it too tough for the enemy to get in, and you won't be able to get out.

  Tracers work both ways.

  Professional soldiers are predictable; the world is full of dangerous amateurs.

  Fortify your front; you'll get your rear shot up.

  Weather ain't neutral.

  If you can't remember, the Claymore is pointed towards you.

  Mines are equal opportunity weapons.

  The one item you need is always in short supply.

  Interchangeable parts aren't.

  It's not the one with your name on it; it's the one addressed "to whom it may concern" you've got to think about.

  When in doubt, empty your magazine.

  The side with the simplest uniforms wins.

  If you can keep your head while those around you are losing theirs, you may have misjudged the situation.

  Whenever you lose contact with the enemy, look behind you.

  The most dangerous thing in the combat zone is an officer with a map.

  The quartermaster has only two sizes, too large and too small.

  If you really need an officer in a hurry, take a nap.

  There is nothing more satisfying than having someone take a shot at you, and miss.

  Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

  The enemy always times his attack to the second you squat on the Loo.

  *****

  STEN 3 - The Court Of A Thousand Suns

  The Book:

  Sten had fought his way up from slave labor on a factory world to commander of
the Eternal Emperor’s bodyguard, the Imperial Gurkhas. But during his first three months on Prime World, the most dangerous weapons Sten had encountered were the well–phrased lies of Court politicians. It seemed no place for an honest fighting man. But when a bomb destroys a local bar, Sten discovers the danger and corruption behind Court intrigue. Only quick work by Sten, Alex Kilgour, and a tough female detective can keep the Empire together and the Emperor alive.

  *****

  The Setup:

  This twisted tale is another original from the Real Alex Kilgour. In this scene, Sten and Alex - who are hot on the trail of the man responsible for killing the Emperor's favorite Joygirl - are posing as guards on a Dru - a prison planet named after my younger, red-headed brother, Drew. Reluctantly, Sten agrees to Alex's plan to distract the other guards with one of his horrible stories, while Sten does some sneaky stuff.

  The Joke:

  Step One was Alex's story. "Ah," he mock-yawned. "Nae a month on Dru, an a'ready Ah heard y'r best stories."

  "You got a better one, Ohlsn," a guard jeered. The tubby Scotsman had already established himself as a character and a favorite among the guards. Especially since he was more than willing to buy his round and another.

  "Since Ah'm buyin't, shouldna ye be shuttin' y'r mouth?"

  Silence fell.

  "Ah'm tellin't a story aboot Old Earth. Before e'en the Emperor. Back when we Scots ran free an' bare-leggit on a wee green island.

  "But e'en then, afore the Emperor, there was an Empire. Romans, they were call't. An because they were sore afrait a' the wee Scots, they built this braw great wall across the island. Wi' us on one side, an' them on the other.

  "Hadrian's Wall, it was namit.

  "But e'en then, bus'ness was bus'ness. So a' course, tha' were gates in th' wall, for folks to go backit an' forth.

  "A' course there were guards on th' gate.

  "On th' evenin' in question, there wa' two guards on th' wall, Marcus and Flavius... "

  *****

  (There's an interruption as Sten and Alex are nearly discovered. Then things relax again, and Sten resumes his sneaky work while Alex resumes his story...)

  *****

  "... Now here's Marcus, who's been on this wee isle for years an' years. But puir Flavius, he's only been there for a month or so. An' the puir lad's scarit solid. He dinna like th' food, he dinna like th' weather, an' most a' all, he's messin' his tunic aboot th' Scots.

  "'Dinna Fash,' Marcus tells him. 'Aboot nine a' th' evenin't, y'll be hearin't a braw whoopin't an' hollerin't an' carryin't on.

  "'Tha'll just be the Scots comin't oot a' th' grogshops. But y'll noo have to worry.'

  "But Flavius is worryin'… "

  Sten was also worrying. He looked around - every eye in the rec room seemed intent on Alex's story.

  Sten slithered a microdrill from his pocket and touched it to the rear of the game machine. The drill whined in. Sten plugged the connection on the drill handle into an outlet on the microbluebox and keyed the analysis button. The blue-box hummed concernedly.

  "… So noo it's nigh nine, and sure enow, there's whoopin't an hollerin't an' carryin't on. And aye, doon the street toward our wee Romans comit this braw great cluster a' Scots. An' they're hairy an' dirty an' wearin't bearskins and carryin't great axes a' claymores.

  "And Flavius knows he's gone to die here on this barren isle light-years from his own't beautiful Rome. So he's shakin't an' shiverin't.

  "But Marcus, he's got this braw smile on his face a' this horrible horde comit staggerin't up.

  "‘Evenin', he says.

  "‘Clottin' Romans,' comit th' growl, an' somebody unlimbers a sword.

  "‘You're lookin't good a' this night,' Marcus goes on.

  "‘Clottin' Romans' is th' solo thing he gets back, an' th' Scots are e'en closer, an' Flavius can smell their stinki't breath, an' he's a dead mon.

  "‘Nice night tonight,' Marcus keeps goin't.

  "‘Clottin' Romans,' comes again.

  "Flavius hae his wee eyes shut, not wantin't' see the blade tha' rips his guts out an' all. But nae happen't.

  All th' braw hairy killer monskers pass through the gate.

  "An Flavius is still alive.

  "He relaxes then. Takit twa deep breaths, grins a' Marcus, an' says, 'Y're right. Tha Scots na be so bad.'

  "‘Aye, lad. You're learnin,' Marcus comes back. 'But in another hour, when their men get done drinkin't, p'raps there'll be a wee spot a' trouble." '

  As usual when Alex finished one of his stories, there was uncomprehending silence.

  *****

  The Setup:

  After getting the things they need to go undercover, there is some very necessary work to be done. Like making false ID's - with phony records to back them - and the creation of the disguises themselves. This task falls to Sten. And what happens to him comes from something that actually happened to Chris when he was using glue and Velcro to attach the sheath of his boot knife to the boot.

  The Joke:

  "Alex, help," Sten said plaintively.

  "A min, lad. A min. Ah’m lockit up noo." Alex was indeed quite busy in the tiny slum flat they’d rented. Kilgour was feeding the ID cards, personal photos, and such from Keet and Ohlsn into one of the few Mantis tools they’d brought with them. The machine was copying the ID cards and personal data from the two originals then altering them so that Sten and Alex’s pictures and physical characteristics were implanted on the documents.

  "Sergeant Major Kilgour, I still outrank you, damn it!"

  The final photo clicked out a shot of Keet, arm in arm with some female-by-courtesy who must have been the love of his life. The new photo, however, showed Sten as the erring lover. Kilgour beamed and fingered a button. The machine began hissing — in less than a half a minute the original documents in the machine, and the guts of the machine itself, would be a nonanalyzable chunk of plas. He turned to see what Sten’s problem was.

  "I am not," he said firmly, "a clottin’ seamstress. I am a captain in the Imperial Guard. I do not know how to sew. I do not know how to alter uniforms to fit, even with sewing glue and this clottin’ knife. All I know how to do is glue my fingers together."

  Kilgour tsked, poured himself a now off-duty drink, and sadly surveyed Sten.

  "How in hell did y’manage to glue both hands together? M’mum w’d nae have trouble wi’ a simple task like that."

  Before Sten could find a way to hit him, Alex solved the problem by dumping his mug of alk over Sten’s hands, dissolving the sewing glue, which Sten had rather ineptly been using to retailor Keet and Ohlsn’s uniforms. The mug was swiftly refilled and handed to Sten, who knocked it back in one shot.

  "Ah," Alex pointed out wisely after Sten had finished choking and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Y’ve provit th’ adage."

  Sten just stared lethally at his partner.

  "Ah y’sew, tha’s how y’weep."

  Kilgour, Sten decided, was definitely rising above his station.

  *****

  The Setup:

  Two jokes from the Real Alex Kilgour made it into "Court." We come in on Sten and Alex, who are on yet another deadly mission - this time to get aboard a heavily guarded warship to save the Emperor and his Tahn diplomat guests from assassination. As the tension mounts, Alex falls back on humor to ease things up for his Gurkah comrades.

  The Joke:

  "I did not know, Sergeant Major, you were aware of just who your ancestors were," Naik Gunju Lama said in seeming innocence.

  Kilgour sneered at him. "Frae off'cers Ah hae't'take drakh like tha', but no frae a wee private who hae to gie back to Katmandu to have his pubes pulled.

  "As ae was sayin't, Captain. One ae m'ancestors went on th' dole, an'— "

  "What the hell's a dole?" Sten asked. There'd been no signals from his remotes, and so they had time to kill. Listening to another of Kilgour's absurd stories seemed as good a way to pass the time as any.

  "A wee fruit, shaped like
a pineapple. Now dinna be interruptin' me, lad. So it's necessary tha' m' ancestor sees a quack, to certify he's nae able to ply his trade.

  "The doc looks a' m' ancestor, one Alex Selkirk Kilgour, an' blanches. 'Lad,' he says. 'Y' be missin't parts!'

  "M' ancestor says, 'Aye.'

  "‘Why'd y' nae hae transplants?'

  "‘It was nae possible,' Selkirk explains. 'Y' see, till recent, Ah was a pirate.'

  "The doc thinkit tha' makit sense, an proceeds wi' th' exam. Whae he's done, he says, 'Sir, y'be't healthy aye a MacDonald.'

  "‘Exceptin' tha' missin't parts.'

  "So Selkirk, he explain'it: 'Y'see't tha' missin't leg? Wi' the peg? Ah was boardin't a richun's yacht, an' th' lock door caught me.'

  "Th' medico listen't, mos' fascinated.

  "‘The hook?' Selkirk gie on, 'Tha' be from't ae laser blast. Took m' paw off clean't ae whistle.'

  "‘An' the eye?' the doc asks.

  "Selkirk, e' fingers th' patch. Th' eye? Tha's frae seagull crap.'

  "Th' wee surgeon's a' puzzled an' all.

  "‘Seagull crap?'

  "‘Aye. Ah was in th’ dockyard, starin't up ae a crane, an a gull go't o'er an' deposits in me eye.'

  "‘But how can seagull crap…. '

  "‘Ah, doctor, y'see, Ah'd only had the hook twa days.' "

  Sten fought for the proper response and then found it. "Clottin' Romans!" And then he focused his attention back on the warning screens.

  *****

  The Setup:

  Hot on the trail of a suspect, Sten and Alex track a rogue medic to the mining planet of Kulak, populated by very tough miners. The sheriff was even tougher - Jill Sherman, "the only law on Kulak." (Trivia: She was named for one of our producer friends on The Incredible Hulk TV series, starring Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno.) Naturally, in the course of things the miners all go after Sten and Alex. Our heavyworlder must head them off while Sten goes after the bad guy. And in the middle of the brawl, Alex has a hankering to recite Horatio At The Gate - in his fashion.

  The Joke:

  And there was nothing that Kilgour enjoyed more than a vulgar brawl. In motion, he looked like a heavily armored ball that ricocheted away from the lock entrance to connect with a target and then spun back to position, an armored ball confusedly quoting half-remembered and terrible poetry.