TK-217: an introduction

Hi, I'm TK-217, also known as Trooper Tripp, newly assigned by TK-421 to the Naranek household in Springfield (IL), USA, Earth*.

Did the Naraneks include me in the Census?

* NOTE: ... I suppose I should be thankful to be assigned to this version of Earth.

You see, a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, I used to hold the rank of Captain, on an Earth just like this one. I was in charge of security of the Empire's experimental biological warfare laboratory in the Mojave Desert: the scientists called it Project Blue; my superiors called it A-Prime.

Then something went wrong for Fay Wray and King Kong, and we got the flock out of there.

I certainly wasn't responsible for the leak, but when the few surviving locals started calling the supervirus Captain Trips, General Starkey decided the coincidence to be too great, and that I had smuggled the virus out into the population, how else would my name get associated with it otherwise? Typical CYA behavior! But I suppose when you're staring down the black muzzle of Lord Vader's helmet, you might have a tendency to pass the blame on down instead of owning up to your own faults.

What happened after, I'd rather not dwell upon. Let's just say it's been a long road, getting from there to here; It's been a long time, but my time is finally near. Mine has been an arduous journey of starships, enterprising engineers, and treks through the stars.

My primary objective right now is to impress my handler lynne naranek Her Meanness the Minion of Death and Destruction with my prowess and intelligence and whatever other skills she expects of me in my capacity of bodyguard and travel companion. My fate, and future in the Empire and Clone Army, rests in her hands.

It's not been going so well, though. During the recent St Patrick's Day celebrations I guarded her as well as I could from a sea of green-clad drunken boors. Wasn't my fault I tripped over that necklace of beads!!

I was still reeling from the swill they call Bud Light.

I didn't fare much better the next time around, either: something about Bloody Mary Mafia?! They say I tripped and fell, and could barely walk straight. I don't remember any such thing, but whaddaya know, they took pictures.

Good thing I had my helmet on, because my cheeks were burning in shame.

I'm not making excuses for myself, but I have to say that my poor performance might have something to do with the weird out-of-scale size of things on this version of Earth. For example, I swear I caught sight of an R2 unit that might have been 100x my height -- didn't they come up to my waist before? So any alcoholic fumes might also be 100x more potent than what I'm used to, right?

Uh-oh. Her Meanness wants to play Bejeweled Blitz again. I've gotta go.

TK-217 signing off!