TK421 - NEW CHAPTER!!!

[weemadando]

The edge of Mos Eisley, fifteen minutes before the interception of the Tantive IV.

The two stormtroopers lounge on the sun beds, their helmets sitting on the ground next to them. A thin column of smoke rises from the roll-up of wookie-weed, a collection of Huttweiser bottles garnishes the sand around them. Behind them the bustling spaceport continues its life, ahead of them the desert stretches uninterrupted to the horizon.
"Back-water posting they said, you'll never see any action out there they said, dead-end they said."
"Damn straight, and I love it." Both begin laughing and slap each others hands.
"I love this job. Just us and the Sarge. Closest other outpost is more than twenty parsecs away."
"And the Sarge is generally more out of it than us."
"Speaking of which, you seen him today?"
"Yeah, said he was meeting up with his contact who was bringing in more gear."
"Ever met him?"
"Nah, Sarge is pretty tight-lipped about him. Apparently they have a bit of a history together. From what I gather though this guy used to be an officer and now he's a smuggler for Jabba."
"Weird. Whoever he is, he's got some absolutely boom-shanka shit." A twi'lek female in a leather bikini wanders over to the troops.
"Can I interest you in any more drinks today boys?"
"You can interest me in a whole lot more than a drink today sweetie."
"Oh, I know that TK dearie, but I'm at work at the moment."
"Aw damn, in that case I'll grab another six-pack."
"On the tab as usual?"
"Like we'd do anything else." Both of the stormies crack up
"I know." The waitress turns and leaves.
"She is such a tight package."
"Cool it man, those twi'leks can be a bit, well, feisty."
"What'd you prefer NT? A gungan?"
"Shit no man. Give me one of them fine Corellian women and I'll be happy."
"Give me two." They begin laughing again.
"Hey man, did you hear the one about the Emperor and the nerf?"
"No, do tell . . ."
"OK man, the Emperors walking down the street and suddenly this rodian jumps out and the Rodian says: 'You wanna buy a talking gundark?' Naturally the Emperors a bit confused by this and asks: 'What would I want with a talking gundark?'. The Rodian replies -" A klaxon sounds in the building behind the stormtroopers.
"An alert?"
"Oh shit. Haven't had one of those since the Tuskens last got rowdy."
"Yeah, that was shit funny when they saw the AT-ATs." Another trooper emerges from the small barracks. His brown shoulder guard signifies his rank.
"Goddammit." The Sarge reaches over to wipe off part of a sign on the wall of the building, it reads: '998 Alert free days.' TK421 struggles off the sunbed, his legs wobbly underneath him.
"Sarge, what the hell is happening?"
"Get your arses inside, we've got a briefing coming through."
"Damn man. And I was looking forward to having a nice relaxing day."

The inside of the barracks was a mess. Empty takeout containers litter every surface. Empty bottles and ash-trays filled with dog-ends appear to have sprouted in the gaps. The small holo-projector springs to life. The standard 'awaiting connection' symbol appears, before being replaced by a helmeted head. A black helmeted head. "Mos Eisley barracks. This is Vader. We have several escape pods from a rebel vessel heading towards the surface. We need you to scout them for-" he is distracted for a moment by someone out of sight, "you have her? Excellent, bring her to me. Sergeant, I will be sending down reinforcements, but you must get moving immediately. Do not disappoint me." The holo flickers out of existance. The Sarge's head sags forward.
"We are so fucked."
"That was fucking Vader man. Vader is in goddamn orbit!"
"You think I didn't notice that TK? You and NT get on the dewbacks and head out towards the first impact site. I'll try and get this place cleaned up before the reinforcements arrive and we get killed."


The Dune Sea.

The dewbacks lumbered forward, their lumbering, swaying, thrumping movement would lead to hemorrhoids, he was sure of it. And it wasn't like this goddamn plasteel armour cushioned it all. NT stares outwards through a pair of high powered macrobinoculars.
"I can see the first pod up ahead. Its about two klicks away."
"Great. Only two klicks. Then how much further on these mobile ball-breakers?"
"Another days ride, good thing I brought a bit of weed in my survival kit."
"Yeah, we can be just like Batch Clonetrooper and the Suncrusher Kid."
"That was a great holo. Pure genius. 'Think you used enough thermal detonators there Batch?'" More laughter. They slowly disappear over the horizon, their silhouettes hazy against the setting sun.

--

The Dune Sea.

The twin suns shone down especially harshly today, the white armour of the troopers was flaring under the intense glare. The sandy dune was littered with debris, an escape pod sat at the top of the ridge, its hatch blown out and its occupants gone. Further down the ridge comes the cry: "Look sir! Droids!" TK and NT stand at the top of the ridge, guarding the pod.
"Oh look at me, I'm in the 19th Imperial Division. I'm an elite trooper." TK mimics the stiff posture and motions of the other troops.
"Yeah, what a bunch of brainwashed morons."
"You two!" An officer below shouts towards them, "Where would you go to find droids?"
"Jawas." They both say simultaneously.
"Jinx."
"Jinx."
"I totally got you first man."
"No way, I got you."
"Goddamnit you two! Get down here now!"
"Sir." A much more subdued voice. They stumble down the dunes shifting face towards the irate officer.
"You two, take a speeder and find those goddamn Jawas. When you do, call in your position, and _we_ will deal with them."
"Yessir. Come on NT." They move towards the speeder, its utilitarian design signifies its singular military purpose. "Its no Aerodyne-345 but its better than those goddamn dewbacks."

The sandcrawler was in sight, its massive frame lumbering slowly across the wastes. "To any copying unit, this is TK421, I have spotted a Jawa sandcrawler. Transmitting coordinates."
"Roger that TK421. At least you two aren't utterly incompetent. Hold position, a landing craft will be there shortly." TK looks through his macro-binoculars at the sandcrawler.
"Alright, payback time you little hooded bitches."
"You're not still pissed about that shonky prosti-droid are you?"
"Are you kidding? I'm not going to be able to rest until I've given every single one of those Jawas a whupping. I couldn't walk for a fortnight after that goddamn thing malfunctioned, I will be getting some goddamn payback."
"Fair enough, I don't envy them in the slightest, stuck between you and the 19th, whoo-boy." A deep rumbling begins shifting the sand, it jumps and slides as the landing craft comes swooping overhead. It swings into a tight bank before dropping to the ground, its ramps only partly descended when the first of the 19th's troops begins rushing out, quickly diving into a prone position, their long-rifles aimed at the sandcrawler. More and more pile out, rapidly establishing a perimeter around the craft.
"For crying out loud guys. Its some Jawas, not a rebel stronghold." Several of the troops are rushing to mount E-WEBs on their tripods. "Hello? Jawas! Little hooded blokes who couldn't kick a gungan's arse. Oh bugger it."
"Be quiet you two. Beta squad, hold here and provide high cover. Gamma, flank left and provide a cut-off. Delta, with me, we'll be knocking on the front door."
"What about us?" Asks NT.
"Stay with me. I want you boys in my sight at all times, where you can't cause any trouble."
"Us, trouble? Never." Says TK in a voice to make Groucho Marx flinch.
"Don't make me shoot you myself."
"Trouble? Wouldn't dream of it, no, not us." The groups scurry about rapidly, all moving into their designated positions. As Delta squad approaches the sandcrawler a ramp lowers and the Jawas rapidly run out, setting up various droids and other artifacts for sale. From the top of the sandcrawler a massive banner unfurls: "50% discount for imperial employees."
"You've got to be joking." Says the officer.
"No, its just the way the Jawas work." The officer steps forward to meet with the lead Jawa.
"We are looking for two droids."
"Welcome, always glad to see some imperials, what are you interested in we have many droids here today, something for everyone and a little bit more, and of course our famous 50% discount for loyal imperial subjects, so what can I interest you in, a mine defuser, only used once, we've got a great selection of med droids, though who would dream of harming the great imperial legions, we've got a new shipment of astromech droids, straight from the ships of Mos Eisley to you, how about a power droid -"
"Shut up!"
"Going cheap, he's a bit low on charge, but we'll knock another couple of hundred of the price, hey, what about a drinks-bot, always need some refreshing beverages on a sandy planet like this one -"
"Shut up!"
"Buy, hey, you're a long way from home aren't you, a long way from that special someone, out on patrol for months at a time, no females within a dozen parsecs, how about a prosti-droid -"
"SHUT UP!"
"Got two in stock, the new fully modular models, adjustable height, sizes, the lot, how about it - one for you and one for the men, I can even throw in a nerf-bot if that's your thing, so whaddya say, twelve thousand for the -" The jawa is flung backwards, a column of smoke rises from its body, the officer stands with his pistol aimed squarely at the next Jawa.
"Two droids. A protocol and an astromech. Where?"
"Not here, sold already, nice couple, do business with them a bit, the kid's a bit of a wannabe, well a dick to tell you the truth, too picky and a little poncy bastard," the Jawa switches to a mocking tone, its sarcastic mimicking completes the illusion, "'Oh, Uncle Owen, there's something wrong with this one.' 'Oh why don't you buy more droids, I don't want to work the harvest.' Whinging git. So anyway, what was it you wanted? We've got great deals on agri-droids at the -" *vwap* The officer shifts his aim again.
"Right. Straight off, a protocol droid and an astromech. Who did you sell them to?"
"Owen Lars. Moisture farmer, couple of dunes that-away."
"What way?"
"That way." The Jawa points, the officer looks in the direction and raises his commlink to his mouth. The Jawa takes advantage of the distraction to deliver a whopping hit with a convenient droid arm to the officers groin.
"Ooooh shiiiit." The officer crumples to the ground in a foetal position. A dozen jawas come pouring from the hatches armed with EMP weapons, the blue pulses triggering twitching convulsions amongst the stormies.
"This is sooo fucked up."
"Seconded." TK and NT drop the ground for cover as a wave of blaster fire comes from the ridge above, blowing out the chain links of the 'crawler and hitting all of the weld points. Another wave quickly dispatches all of the Jawas. The battered troops slowly come to their feet as the officer waddles uncomfortably towards TK and NT who are sitting on the dune, their helmets off, lighting up a reefer.
"What the fuck was that? 'Wouldn't be able to kick a gungan's arse?' 'Just Jawas?'"
"Gee Sir. Maybe they were just pissed that you started shooting them?"
"Shut the fuck up. What was all that shit that they were babbling?"
"It's the way Jawas are. One track minds. Money and business."
"You could have told me."
"Tried to."
"And what the fuck is that your smoking? Better not be death-sticks."
"Hell no man. That shit will kill you. This is just a bit of wookie."
"We're in a fucking combat situation and you two fucking clowns are sitting around smoking goddamn wookie weed?"
"Actually Sir," NT butts in, "We didn't light up until _after_ the fire-fight had finished." Even through the armour the furious shuddering of the officers body is evident.
"You two! Get your fucking arses back to Mos Eisley and establish a checkpoint. Stop and question anyone with droids. We'll deal with this Owen Lars."
"You sound tense Sir, how about a toke?"
"GET THE FUCK IN THAT SPEEDER AND OUT OF MY FUCKING SIGHT TK421!"

----------------------------------------

The edge of Mos Eisley.

TK and NT stand at the makeshift checkpoint on one of the major "streets" into the spaceport. "Why the fuck are we looking for two droids anyhow?"
"How the fuck should I know. All I know is that after this week I'm going to ask for a transfer to Endor."
"Hell yeah. Goddamn Tatooine is meant to be quiet." A pair of jawas approach the checkpoint with a droid.
"Excuse me. Can I see that droids papers?"
"Un-tiini!"
"Look, I don't give a shit about it. I'm having a fucking shit day and I want to see your mother fucking papers."
"Niutiini!" One of the jawas digs into his pocket and removes an identicard. Handing it to TK the jawa turns to polish the droid.
"OK, this appears to be in order. I don't want to find a complaint about a stolen droid on my desk later though. Move along."
"Man, this is one shitty assignment."
"Too right, hey, you got any wookie on you?"
"Yup. Right to skin up?"
"Sure as shit! How the fuck were we meant to make it through this shift without any wookie-weed. I haven't been on checkpoint duty for more than a year." They each take several hard tokes from the massive reefers.
"Yup. Sucks to be us. Goddamn traffic cop duty. Here's another likely customer. Speeder, two passengers. Aaaand two droids!"
"Hooray for us. With any luck this will be them and we can all go home." Stepping out infront of the speeder NT waves for it to stop. TK steps up to the drivers side.
"How long have you had these droids?"
"About three or four seasons." The young sandy haired kid seemed nervous. They always seemed nervous. Man this was going to be an easy bust. Looked like he was taking his grandpa out for a Sunday drive.
"They're for sale if you want them." Recalling his experiences with the malfunctioning prostidroid, TK didn't need any excuse to ignore this question.
"Let me see your identification." The kid reaches into his pocket.
"You don't need to see his identification." Well, Grandpa had a voice. One hell of a voice.
"We don't need to see his identification." NT looks over at TK with a quizzical tilt to his head.
"These are not the droids your looking for." Damn, either it was the old mans voice or that weed was some heavy shit.
"These are not the droids we're looking for." NT continues staring at TK.
"He can go about his business."
"You can go about your business."
"Move along."
"Move along. Move along." TK waves the speeder forward and NT steps over to his side.
"Dude."
"Yeah."
"Those were the droids we were looking for."
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Shit."
"Well, what Vader doesn't know won't hurt him." Another speeder is pulling up. Two battered droids sit behind the driver. The driver is a smarmy looking git with blond hair. Designer sunglasses sit high on his forehead as his brand new landspeeder purrs away.
"Sir, are these your droids?" TK gives NT a slight nod.
"Yeah."
"How long have you had them?"
"A few days, got them from some Jawa's on the commute over from Mos Espa. Why?" NT nods back at TK.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the speeder now."
"Huh? What? I haven't done anything wrong."
"Sir. Step out of the speeder."
"Why!" TK and NT both grab the man and haul him out of the speeder bodily. Throwing him onto the ground they draw their batons and begin pummeling the man. "I didn't do - yeaargh! - anything. I've got - OW! - bills of sale!"

*fifteen minutes later*

TK stands over the battered man, the two droids are still sitting inert in the rear of the speeder. "Sir, this is TK421, we have apprehended a suspect in possession of two droids matching the description given to us." TK disengages the comm just in time to break out laughing.
"Excellent. Maybe you two aren't completely fucking useless. Dump the prisoner and droids at the barracks and get your butts to the Cantina, some idiot is busting it up. Can't have that kind of thing on my watch."

-----
[new chapter]

TK421 stood with a datapad in one hand and stylus for it in the other, he had already taken four statements and was getting started with his next one.

"So you say it was a guy with a lightsaber?"

"Yeah, an old guy . . ."

"Great, so an old guy kicked your friends arse and you did . . . ?"

"Nothing - do I look suicidal to you?"

"With that face I'm surprised you're not."

"Hey screw you man - this guy had someone else with him, some young kid, whiny git by the sounds of him. Looked like a farmboy."

"Well that really narrows it down in this end of space."

"What - you think my info is bad?"

"Personally I think it fucking sucks. But I'm not meant to say that - PR and all that."

"I don't like you either . . ."

"Strange you should say that - apparently that's what started the fight."

"Hey - I've told you already: the old guy just pulled a lightsaber on us."

"And you wouldn't happen to be carrying at all would you?"

"Awwww, man - why you gotta go and do this?"

"C'mon, hand 'em over."

"This ain't right man - I know my rights. 2nd Amendment and that shit . . ."

"This ain't the Republic anymore chump - and well, is this a DL-44? With the increased yield and secondary refire addition?"

"No- no no no, you must be mistaken.

"No, no - I'm pretty sure - and wow, you even have this thing wired for automatic fire. That doesn't come standard - tell me, how many shots do you get before you melt the containment field on the capacitors?"

"About 12 - shit."

"Right - you're under arrest for the possession of an illegal concealed weapon and the possession of a pistol-type weapon with a magazine capacity of more than 10 shots. You have the right to have the shit kicked out of you, your creds stolen and your ship impounded. I also reserve the right to liberate you of that very nice chronometer you're wearing and will be making sure this pistol doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

"Fuck man, that wasn't cool."

"No-one ever accused you of being smart I'm guessing. Place your hand on the datapad to scan for ID." The ugly perp does so.

"Shit man, it would appear that you are listed for the death penalty in more than four systems, that's a summary execution . . ."

"Wait - that can't be right, try my other hand! No - here! Try this one!" The man grabs the severed arm from the floor and presses its hand against the pad.

"According to this, there is a bounty of more than two million creds on you now. Payable - well, shit, not more than a parsec from here. Damn, today is a good day. I get a two million cred bonus AND a totally sweet gun."

"Screw you! This totally sucks for me."

"Hey - if you don't shut up right now I might be tempted to transfer you to Moerka, you're wanted there and I hear that their execution method involves a whole damn bunch of acupuncture droids."

"Man, what do you want me to do."

"Sit down and shut up for the time being. And while you're there, why don't you have a look at these mug shots. Tell me if the old guy is on there." TK421 walks over to near the door and activates his commlink. "NT man, tell me you got something from your snitch, because this guy is fucking useless."

"Yeah, the sarge and I got a line on a ship departing from the space port in about 10 minutes. You gonna be there?"

"Sure - just let me sort shit out here." TK turns to the barman. "Make sure noone leaves here. And you -" he points to the man flipping through the digital mug shots, "most definitely stay . . ."

"Yeah - keep oppressing me you facist bastard!"

----

[NecronLord]

Wasn't TK-421 on the Death Star. Unless he's going there I'd make him say...

KL-363

[weemadando]

Wasn't TK-421 on the Death Star. Unless he's going there I'd make him say...

KL-363

*WHAP*

In case you haven't already figured it out, TK421 is the most inept and unlucky trooper in the force. Of course he's going to end up on the DS. And he is going to live to have misadventures in ESB and RotJ.

[His Divine Shadow]

Wasn't TK-421 on the Death Star. Unless he's going there I'd make him say...

KL-363

*WHAP*

In case you haven't already figured it out, TK421 is the most inept and unlucky trooper in the force. Of course he's going to end up on the DS. And he is going to live to have misadventures in ESB and RotJ.

Wasn't he shot inside the Falcon though?

[weemadando]

Wasn't TK-421 on the Death Star. Unless he's going there I'd make him say...

KL-363

*WHAP*

In case you haven't already figured it out, TK421 is the most inept and unlucky trooper in the force. Of course he's going to end up on the DS. And he is going to live to have misadventures in ESB and RotJ.

Wasn't he shot inside the Falcon though?

Thats what Rebel propaganda would have you believe.

I have a much more amusing end to ANH for him in mind.

[Kuja]

I like it, but the story of the droid-hunting platoon's been told already.

But hey, who cares? I'm enjoying it.

[Einhander Sn0m4n]

LMFAO!!! That was a phunny story! "Wookie weed!" LOL

[weemadando]

I like it, but the story of the droid-hunting platoon's been told already.

But hey, who cares? I'm enjoying it.

I should point out that I started this BEFORE I saw Troops. So don't accuse me of ripping it off (not directed at you, but I've had the accusation levelled at me before).

[Kuja]

I like it, but the story of the droid-hunting platoon's been told already.

But hey, who cares? I'm enjoying it.

I should point out that I started this BEFORE I saw Troops. So don't accuse me of ripping it off (not directed at you, but I've had the accusation levelled at me before).

Actually, I've never seen Troops. I'm talking about the story of stormtrooper Davin Felth, from Tales From the Mos Eisly Cantina. It's about the "Look sir, droids!" guy, and it's very well-written.

But so what? I actually wanted to write a story about "Clumsy the Stormtrooper", the biggest klutz in the Empire. I got the idea after I saw the guy bash his head in ANH. This is pretty close, and I'm loving it.

[His Divine Shadow]

Weemadando, you never continued this fic, I found it interesting.

[weemadando]

Weemadando, you never continued this fic, I found it interesting.

It is going to be continued.

All my fics are on temporary hiatus until I get settled back into uni.

[weemadando]

[new chapter]

TK421 stood with a datapad in one hand and stylus for it in the other, he had already taken four statements and was getting started with his next one.

"So you say it was a guy with a lightsaber?"

"Yeah, an old guy . . ."

"Great, so an old guy kicked your friends arse and you did . . . ?"

"Nothing - do I look suicidal to you?"

"With that face I'm surprised you're not."

"Hey screw you man - this guy had someone else with him, some young kid, whiny git by the sounds of him. Looked like a farmboy."

"Well that really narrows it down in this end of space."

"What - you think my info is bad?"

"Personally I think it fucking sucks. But I'm not meant to say that - PR and all that."

"I don't like you either . . ."

"Strange you should say that - apparently that's what started the fight."

"Hey - I've told you already: the old guy just pulled a lightsaber on us."

"And you wouldn't happen to be carrying at all would you?"

"Awwww, man - why you gotta go and do this?"

"C'mon, hand 'em over."

"This ain't right man - I know my rights. 2nd Amendment and that shit . . ."

"This ain't the Republic anymore chump - and well, is this a DL-44? With the increased yield and secondary refire addition?"

"No- no no no, you must be mistaken.

"No, no - I'm pretty sure - and wow, you even have this thing wired for automatic fire. That doesn't come standard - tell me, how many shots do you get before you melt the containment field on the capacitors?"

"About 12 - shit."

"Right - you're under arrest for the possession of an illegal concealed weapon and the possession of a pistol-type weapon with a magazine capacity of more than 10 shots. You have the right to have the shit kicked out of you, your creds stolen and your ship impounded. I also reserve the right to liberate you of that very nice chronometer you're wearing and will be making sure this pistol doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

"Fuck man, that wasn't cool."

"No-one ever accused you of being smart I'm guessing. Place your hand on the datapad to scan for ID." The ugly perp does so.

"Shit man, it would appear that you are listed for the death penalty in more than four systems, that's a summary execution . . ."

"Wait - that can't be right, try my other hand! No - here! Try this one!" The man grabs the severed arm from the floor and presses its hand against the pad.

"According to this, there is a bounty of more than two million creds on you now. Payable - well, shit, not more than a parsec from here. Damn, today is a good day. I get a two million cred bonus AND a totally sweet gun."

"Screw you! This totally sucks for me."

"Hey - if you don't shut up right now I might be tempted to transfer you to Moerka, you're wanted there and I hear that their execution method involves a whole damn bunch of acupuncture droids."

"Man, what do you want me to do."

"Sit down and shut up for the time being. And while you're there, why don't you have a look at these mug shots. Tell me if the old guy is on there." TK421 walks over to near the door and activates his commlink. "NT man, tell me you got something from your snitch, because this guy is fucking useless."

"Yeah, the sarge and I got a line on a ship departing from the space port in about 10 minutes. You gonna be there?"

"Sure - just let me sort shit out here." TK turns to the barman. "Make sure noone leaves here. And you -" he points to the man flipping through the digital mug shots, "most definitely stay . . ."

"Yeah - keep oppressing me you facist bastard!"

[Mark S]

Great stuff.

[Hitch Hiker]

Great Story.

but how come you repeated the last chapter?

[Companion Cube]

That rocked.

[Singular Quartet]

Grand shtuff! Now write another chapter, dammit!

[LT.Hit-Man]

Hahahaha I love this thanks for keeping this puppy going.

[Captain Cyran]

LOL, this is hilarious. "Wookie Weed" Damn man, that's great.

[darthdavid]

New chap-ter!!! New chap-ter!!! New chap-ter!!!

[Peregrin Toker]

I simply loved this, for one reason:

Originality.

When the Imperial point of view is presented, it's usually the way the Imperial leaders view it.... having a lowly Stormtrooper as the protagonist was rather entertaining.

This is what "Troops" would have been if it was intented to be serious.


Keep up the good work!