We Were Not All Born in Cloning Tanks

The Last One Standing

By Fairy Chipper

Note: Sorry, I am not Disney, therefore I do not own Star Wars. However, I am happy that Lucas cannot inflict another Jar Jar upon us all.

Kana Leed-Fett hated nursing homes. No matter how many droids the facility employed, there was a certain stench that made her stomach churn. A part of her wished that all these old folks just Become One with the Force. Another part started contingency planning for the day she would snap and go on a killing spree. She had a blaster hidden under her cloak and knew how to use it.

However, the sane part of her overworked mind knew that old Mandalorians were the most dangerous Mandalorians. Unlike other cultures were the old were generally peaceful, Mandalorians only get more vicious with age. Today, she was going to meet the oldest Mandalorian alive.

The Fett clan was the largest clan in all of Mandalore. It always was since Jingo Fett got cloned. In old Mandalorian, clans names were based on occupation, location, or physical feature of some ancestor. Fett was Mandalorian for fat.

Kana was thankful that she did not inherit the name or physical features associated with the name.

Instead, as a child, she was nicknamed Maus because she was small like her mother and shy. Her cousins on her father's side of the family were the big and stocky Fetts. They made the mistake of thinking that Maus would cower forever until she nearly killed five of her cousins during a family reunion when she was twelve. Suddenly she went from the soft and dainty mouse to being the most sought after bride. Hell, violent was always the new sexy for Mandalorians. Thirty-six years, six kids, and a career in the New Republic's Commando Corps later, General Kana Leed-Fett, retired, returned home planning to enjoy retirement until she got stuck with clan duties.

First, Kana thought it would be easy to retire. She was respected, bashed in the appropriate heads, and learned from her mother's Cornellian family how to get others to believe that they were doing their own thing when in reality they were following your wishes. She climbed up the ranks, but wisely stepped aside before they could make her Mand'alor.

Now all she had to do was hold a meeting and occasionally bash some heads if they were just being stupid. Mandalorians might worship conflict, but even they knew when they were outclassed. No one wanted to mess with the former head of the New Republic's commando forces.

However as acting clan head, part of her duties were to ensure that the clan head was well taken care of, as well as bring in clan council decisions for his ratification. Kana was the second generation descendant of the first acting clan head and the sixteenth person curse to deal with the 'Old Man.' For sixteen months, she had to deal the a senile, mean bastard who was getting soft upstairs, but still had an old-school Mandalorian trigger finger and a couple extra spare blasters in reach. So far, he had managed to hang on, surviving half a dozen attempts. The old man was a target. Being the last living stormtrooper mean that for certain species, he was the last possible target for their vengeance.

For the fifteenth time in as many minutes, Kana cursed the fact that half her family were Mandalorians.

Mandalorians were fighters. Even when they knew that their position was 'wrong' they still stubbornly fought. Once a Mandalorian staked his or her position, not even death made them compromise. Herding cats or going into politics was easier than getting the Old Man to compromise.

Kana took a deep breath, placed a fake smile, and walked into the suite of doom.

It took a lifetime of self-discipline to not run back out.

Okay, the Old Man does not need male stimulants to be aroused.

Kana walked out and waited fifteen minutes until the shower was off. She place the memory of seeing her great grandfather yanking off into the mental bin of 'Get Eff'ed Up Until There is No Way I Can Ever Recall This Incident Again.'

She straightened out her blouse and walked back in.

The Old Man was dressed in a robe and thankfully was wearing shorts underneath the robes.

"Hello Maus," the Old Man asked, "Do you want grandma's candied apples?"

"No thank you," Kana replied.

"It was your favorite," the Old Man insisted.

"Grandmother said that I can't while I am getting my braces adjusted."

"Sorry."

Thankfully the Old Man was tamed enough to not even think of going behind his wife's back. Thankfully, the fact that his wife was twenty years dead did not matter.

"Grandfather, I brought with me some documents that needs your signature."

Kana slowly reached into her bag and brought out the data pad. Only a fool spooked a trigger happy old man.

"I just need your thumbprint here."

"Kana…did I ever tell you how I ended up joining the Empire and eventually the Rebel Alliance?"

Kana resisted the urge to attempt to kill the old man.

Must not reach for blaster…must not reach for blaster…must not…

She had only heard the tale a thousand times growing up and heard it a thousand times more since she was the one now stuck with being temporary clan head.

"Contrary to what Rebel propaganda says, stormtroopers are not clones," the old man said. "I had a mommy and daddy just like you and your cousins have a mommy and daddy. My daddy was called Rex and my mother was Ahsoka. Or was Ahsoka my older half-sister Asha's mother. Oh yes, my mommy was Pele. She had the prettiest red hair and boy did she have a temper to match. She would let daddy come over and if daddy did not bring enough money, she would chase daddy shooting his blaster."

Not again…

"Mommy named me Rex Junior after my daddy. Like all the other kids, our daddies were clone troopers. Our mommies' jobs were to collect our daddies' paychecks, raise the kids, and ensure that no one could get access to our daddies DNA. It worked quite well. Our daddy's were only fourteen years old when the Clone Wars were over and they did not have any daddy to teach them about using condoms."

Please shoot me. I do not want to be reminded that my great-great-grandmother was a camp follower.

"By the time we were seven, we all knew that we would be the next generation of Imperial Stormtroopers. It's natural. Our fathers were clones of a Mand'alore and all survived the worst fighting of the war. Between breeding and training, we were too dangerous for peaceful jobs like bounty hunting and living obstacle removal specialist. I could not wait to pass secondary education and become a shiny!"

The old man was standing on his bed in a heroic pose.

"Oh, were was I…" the old man asked.

Thankfully, his confusion gave her an opportunity to fast forward through a small part of his recollection.

"Talking about your tour on the Death Star."