The Familial Composition

Odd Ends, Dashbalar city, Ansion, Mid Rim

Nine years before the Battle of Geonosis...

Shiv looked down his long, scarred and greying muzzle at his unexpected visitor. His nostrils flared and he caught the scent of tibanna gas cartridges, blaster lubricant and fire-hardened and plasma scorched beskar'gam.

"You've got balls the size of Nar Shaddaa, showing up like this."

Seated across from him, Jango Fett smiled, an expression that held little actual amusement. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment, Shiv."

Shiv grunted, sniffing the air once more. "What parts have you been straying about, Fett? You smell like an entire ocean world."

The smile turned a little harder, the corners of Fett's eyes tightened. "If you agree to my proposal, you can see for yourself. Until then..." The Mandalorian spread his hands, indicating his inability to elaborated.

Shiv sighed, feeling weariness settle into his bones. He stretched his long legs, curling the toes of his prosthetic leg. "As much as you reek of salt walter, Fett, this is starting to stink all the more of secrecy. Alright, lay it on me. What do you want?"

Fett leaned forward, the plates of his armor scraping together, the sound causing the ears atop Shiv's head to twitch and focus more firmly on the Human. To an unfamiliar observer, Shiv would have appeared calm, almost bored. But for someone familiar with Shistavanen behavior, it was obvious that he was on edge and certainly on alert. He'd allowed this Human into his den and was giving him the courtesy of his attention, but Shiv trusted Jango Fett no farther than he could throw a Hutt. The man was dangerous and dangerous men tended to arouse such suspicions in the usually affable Shistavanen. More than forty years in the army tended to do that to you.

"I have a job for you, Shiv," Fett said, his eyes intense as he studied Shiv's reaction. "For you and that terror you call a wife."

"Oh?" Shiv cocked his ears, the Shistavanen equivalent of raising his eyebrows. "I'm afraid you're a bit late, Fett. Eda and I are retired or hadn't you heard?"

"I've heard, which is exactly why I'm here. You and Eda are no longer in the Republic's pocketbook, which means you're free to place your loyalties where you wish."

Shiv took a deep breath, the action expanding his already impressive ribcage. His dark brown fur rippled and rose and he seemed to expand to almost twice his natural size, though he did not move an inch from the comfortable position he'd taken on his recliner chair.

"My loyalties," Shiv said in a half-growl, "have always been where I wanted them to be, Fett. And for the sake of my mate's carpeting, I'll not take offense at your implication that I have ever been a paid-off lackey and rip your throat out with my bare teeth."

Fett didn't flinch - Oh, he had balls alright - but he did sit back in his own chair, resettling his hands on his lap. And closer to his holstered blasters.

"I appreciate that, Shiv," Fett said drily.

Shiv grunted and cocked his head, narrowing his one remaining eye. "So? I'm assuming you're not going to leave until you've said your piece, no matter how much I growl, so get on with it. What kind of job are we talking about?"

"I've been hired by an independent party to train an army." Fett raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his hard features. "I'm the man for the job, but even I can't train an entire army on my own. I need others, to act as training sergeants and I believe you and Eda could be real assets. There aren't many who've been in the business as long as you two have and lived to tell the tale."

Shiv snorted, unimpressed by being complimented by one of the most famous - and successful - bounty hunters of their time. It was a simple fact of life that covert ops was a dirty and dangerous business and very few agents survived long enough to retire. He and Eda had had to clean house quite a bit before they'd been able to disappear on this little Mid Rim world. Their retirement was paid for in blood and that made him resent Fett's intrusion all the more.

"An army," Shiv repeated, the tip of his tail twitching slightly. He didn't like the sound of that. "Who in all the moons' glory would need an army. The Republic's at peace."

Fett barked out a laugh that was as unamused as his previous smile had been. "Come now, Shiv. You of all people know what a load of bantha dung that is. A thousand years of peace." He said it as if the words were something foul and usually best flushed down the nearest 'fresher. "It's the galaxy's biggest joke. The Naboo blockade should have proven that."

Shiv folded his clawed hands before him. "Fett," he said slowly, "I hope you're about to tell me that that army is an early lifeday present for Naboo's queen, because the only other option is the Trade Federation and in that case, I will have to spill your blood on Eda's good carpet."

"I wasn't hired by the Neimoidians, Shiv, or Naboo."

"Then who?"

"I can't tell you."

Shiv shook his head. "That's not good enough, Fett."

The cold muzzle of a blaster pressed against the back of Fett's head. "I agree."

Fett knew better than to turn around and face his assailant. "Eda."

"Fett." Shiv's mate was a lovely vision of glorious beauty and fury, dressed in dramatic red shimmersilk and her greying hair twisted into a complex knot.

"I see marriage has mellowed you considerably," Fett observed. "Your hospitality has certainly improved."

"The carpets are new," she answered shortly. "Blood and brain matter are difficult to scrub out."

"Naturally."

"Best tell her what she wants to know, Fett," Shiv said jovially. "You know she'll get it out of you, one way or another."

"And you will not enjoy the other," Eda added.

Fett let out a sigh, as if this were all just one big inconvenience, but Shiv's sharp ears could detect the increased tempo of the bounty hunter's heartbeat and the slightest whiff of sweat in the man's body odor.

"I was hired by a man named Tyranus."

Shiv and Eda exchanged a look, Eda giving the barest shake of her head. The name meant nothing to her either.

"That's not much," Shiv told Fett.

"That's all you're getting," Fett answered. "I have a reputation to protect."

"Reputation of the hired help," Eda snapped.

"Would that be your expert opinion?" Fett challenged.

Eda's nostrils flared and Shiv quickly interfered, before she decided to forget about her carpets and shoot Fett anyway. Not that Shiv would particularly mourn the man - he'd had his run ins with Fett, mostly from opposite sides - but if Fett was involved in a job of this magnitude, then there'd be someone out there waiting for his return; and perhaps willing to come looking, should Fett fail to reappear.

"I'm guessing there are some considerable benefits involved in this job. I can't imagine you'd be interested otherwise."

Fett's eyes flashed with the first real touches of irritation. He was a man for hire, more ruthlessly mercenary than a bounty hunter had a right to be, but even Fett had his code of honor.

"The contract is for ten years," he said shortly. "And pays with more credits than you'd know what to do with." He jerked his chin at the living room, taking in the house as a whole. "You could buy half of this city within five years, if that's your fancy now."

"What's the catch?" Eda demanded. She still hadn't removed the blaster from the back of Fett's head and Shiv doubted she was considering to do so any time soon. Eda had crossed paths far more often with Fett than her mate had and there was no love lost between the two.

"You disappear." Fett wasn't one to beat around the bush. "Completely. No contact with the outside world; no trips off-world. You become Cuy'val Dar."

"'Those who no longer exist'," Eda translated and gave a derogatory sniff. "How poetic."

"That's quite a catch, Fett," Shiv added.

"And a lot to gain as a consequence," Fett retorted. His attention was solely focused on Shiv, but one look at his mate told Shiv that Eda was listening carefully, taught as a Corellian sand panther deciding whether or not she should strike. "Think about it, Shiv. You've complained for decades about the way the Republic runs its army. Well, now you have the chance to train men the right way and you'll be given whatever you need to do it. All you have to do is give up on this backwater dream and in return, you'll train the finest army this galaxy has ever seen."

It was, Shiv thought, the most passionate speech he'd ever heard from Fett.

The old wolf narrowed his one eye. There's more in him for this than just credits. He believes in what he's saying.

"I spent a lot of years waiting for this 'backwater dream'," Shiv put in. He exchanged another quick glance with Eda and this time, his mate didn't even have to twitch an elegantly arched eyebrow. One look sufficed and Shiv knew what Eda's stance on all of this was. "And we aren't ready on giving up on it just yet."

"Shiv..." Fett began, but Shiv raised a hand, shaking his head.

"No, Fett. You're on your own on this one." An unusual wave of foreboding swamped Shiv and he found himself leaning towards the other man, his voice a mix between entreaty and impassioned indignation. "Rings and moons, man, can't you see what a gundark's nest you've gotten yourself into? Training some secret army at a time like this, when half the systems in the Republic are ready to jump for cover and the other is reaching for their blasters? The Trade Federation blockaded Naboo. This is a thermal det waiting to go off."

"And you're sitting on one of the blasting caps," Eda added acidly.

For the first time, Fett turned to look at her and his control slipped just enough for the couple to catch sight of the hostility beneath. "I know what I'm doing."

"Then do it without us. Leave." And Eda underlined her order with a quick jerk of her blaster.

Fett regarded Eda for a moment, then glanced once more at Shiv. "Shiv, think about..."

"She speaks for both of us," Shiv interrupted. "And were I in your boots, I wouldn't risk overstaying my welcome."

With slow, deliberate movements, Fett rose from his chair.

Eda took a step back, giving the man room to move, but the blaster remained aimed for a killing shot.

Fett, in Shiv's opinion, was a brash, unhealthily stubborn lone wolf, but he was not stupid. Shiv and Eda were older than the Mandalorian by more than a decade - almost two, in Shiv's case - but those same decades also amounted to years of experience Fett could not hope to match. And, aged or no, Fett was outnumbered and on their home ground. Even the purportedly greatest bounty hunter of the galaxy wouldn't risk those odds.

"Alright." Fett heaved a sigh of real regret. "I'll leave. But I'm telling you, Shiv, you're making a mistake. We have the chance to change the galaxy."

Shiv had risen as well and he towered over both Humans. "It'll change with or without us. That's the nature of things."

Fett gave him a last, lingering look and Shiv could not quite identify the emotion in the other man's eyes. Was it disappointment or disdain?

Then the Mandalorian turned to look at Eda, but if anything, his mate's face was even more inscrutable. And then, without ever turning his back on them, Fett left; disappearing into the Ansionian night like a ghost.

Eda didn't relinquish her expert hold on the blaster until she was absolutely certain that Fett was gone. When she did lower the weapon, her carefully maintained mask of blank hostility dropped. She let out a shaky breath, the color draining from her face.

Shiv was at his mate's side in an instant, taking her slight form into his arms. She put up a token resistance - his fireworm would never surrender to anything, not even affection, without a final stand - but eventually Eda melted against his shaggy form.

"Next time," she mumbled against his chest, "I'll kill him."

"There won't be a next time," Shiv assured her. "At least, not for the next ten years." And maybe not ever again, he added silently. Shiv couldn't give a concrete reason for his suspicions, but something about this 'job' Fett had proposed set his teeth on edge and made his fur stand up on end. You didn't train an army unless you were willing to use it and having them trained by a man like Fett, or by people personally selected by Fett? You didn't need to be a Shistavanen to smell the trouble on the horizon.

"I don't like it," she declared. "None of it. All of it."

"You don't have to," he assured her, stroking her back until he felt the stiff muscles relaxing. "Because we're going to stay well out of it. We're retired now. Nothing going on in this galaxy has anything to do with us anymore."

Present day...

Eda stood in front of the transparisteel wall of the library, her arms crossed over her chest. She was peering at the street below as if the intensity of her gaze could conjure up - and incinerate in the same breath - the object of her displeasure.

"I don't like it."

From his seat on the library's plush sofa, Shiv gave an inaudible sigh. He loved his mate, he truly did, but she'd been saying the same thing for the past half hour and there was really only one response it was safe for him to give. Silence, he knew from experience, would be as damming as pointing out her constant repetitions. "I know."

Eda drummed her fingers against her arm and a tense silence settled over the library. Then: "Where is she? She's late."

Shiv glanced ceiling-wards, sending off a silent prayer for patience. "They are certain to get here soon."

A delicate sniff was his only response.

Several minutes passed.

Shiv twiddled his thumbs, silently counting down in his head. When he reached 106, Eda burst out, "What is she thinking? Bringing one of them?"

The Shistavanen looked down at his big, furred paws, his brow wrinkled. "Ro seemed quite taken with the lad," he pointed out. As a matter of fact, their adoptive daughter had been downright ecstatic during her last comm call, full of news about her new partner. Shiv tended to be happy when Ro was happy, but even he had to admit to a moment of doubt when she'd mentioned just who her new partner was.

"She," Eda said, "has a terrible history with men. And to bring home a Fett..." She let the sentence trail off, as if the consequences of such a disastrous move were too horrid to voice aloud.

Shiv, always a fair-minded man, roused himself to the clone trooper's defense. "Now, Eda, we don't even know the lad. There's no saying that he'll be like Jango Fett."

Eda turned on him, an incredulous, irritated look on her face. "He's a clone. A copy of the original. That is the whole point."

Shiv scratched behind his tattered ear. He couldn't really argue, mostly because he didn't actually know all that much about cloning. And he certainly didn't know any clones personally. In fact, he didn't know a single person who did. Cloning was a widely accepted practice and he knew of companies who used legions of clones as a cheap workforce. But that was the extent of his knowledge. And he'd never actually felt the urge to gather more Intel on the subject.

Shiv considered himself a generally open-minded sentient and not just because he'd married outside of his species. But he was honest enough to admit that the idea of artificially creating - copying - individuals deeply unsettled him. And that was not even taking into account the fact that this particular clone - and the entire Republic clone army - wore the face of a man he'd known, fought against and who'd died well over a year ago.

Perhaps this line of thinking made him a backrocket Rimmer, but he couldn't help it. And wasn't a man of his age entitled to some prejudices?

The drone of quickly approaching repulsors made his ears prick. Eda, noticing the action, whirled back to stare out the window.

"She's coming?"

"They are," Shiv agreed and heaved himself off of the sofa, coming to stand next to his mate at the window. He put an arm about her shoulders and instinctively, Eda leaned against his side.

They watched, together, as a groundspeeder rounded the corner.

Shiv winced, his ears flattening against his skull when the repulsors whined in protest, as the speeder took the curve at a murderous angle, crossing over onto the opposite lane as it did so.

"Ro is driving," Eda observed blandly.

Shiv, thinking of the clone trooper who likely shared the speeder, felt the first stirrings of sympathy for the lad. Hopefully this clone had a cast-durasteel stomach.

The vehicle came to a sudden stop in front of Odd Ends, then did a rapid three-point turn and drove backwards into the alley and, no doubt, the garage at the back of the house.

Shiv and Eda exchanged a look; Shiv dropping his jaw in his signature smile, the corner of Eda's lips twitching upwards.

By the time they'd made it downstairs, they could hear the shouting.

"My driving's fine!"

"Fekked up, more like!"

"I've never been pulled over! Not diddly once!"

"Probably ran down the kriffing traffic clanker who crinking tried!"

Artee shot through the front door, causing the shop's entrance bell to jingle. The astromech was whirring and chirping to himself in a droid's equivalent of a mutter, so worked up he didn't even veer violently at the sight of Eda. Instead, R3-T3 passed them both by at top speed and exited again through the shop's back door, disappearing into the yard.

Shiv and Eda exchanged another look, this one far more bewildered than the first.

The shop's door flew open again and the colorful little whirlwind that was Ro stormed inside, shouting at someone behind her.

"You'd better wash out that poodoo-mouth of yours, Cookie, before..."

She turned, catching sight of Eda and Shiv.

"Eda." Her face brightened to the radiance of a sun going nova. "Shiv!" With a squeal of absolute delight, Ro rushed over to them, enveloping both of her parents in an enthusiastic hug, which was returned just as heartily. "I'm so bombad happy to see you. Everything been stellar on your part? Was your vacation as mono fun as promised?"

"Quite," Shiv answered her, adding an extra tight squeeze to her lithe frame. "You seem to be in good voice."

"So's the clone," Eda muttered under her breath.

Shiv shot her an admonishing look and something like contriteness crossed his mate's face. They had talked about proper hospitality when meeting their daughter's partner. The glimmer of good intention on his wife's face died though, the instant the clone trooper walked into Odd Ends.

"Don't kriffing walk away from me, cheeka. I'm not fekking done telling you what a crinking bad..." The man stopped as he realized he was on the receiving end of three different glowers. He cocked an eyebrow, glancing from one to the other. "Fek, so there is an effing family resemblance."

Indeed, there was.

Shiv thought he'd been prepared for the resemblance, but the reality hit him harder than a Hutt-load of nerfs.

Jango Fett. It was Fett's face staring back at him; Fett's dark eyes that regarded him cooly, almost arrogantly. That was Fett's dark eyebrow raised at Shiv in both amusement and subtle challenge.

They even got the posture right. The lad's feet were slightly spread, his hands dangling loosely at his sides, close to the holstered blaster slung low on his hip. Every line of his body screamed alertness and suspicion. He even wore the black and grey camo armor in Jango's manner: confident and naturally.

"Eh, Eda? Shiv?" Ro, fiddling with the triangular charm hanging off of her Padawan braid in sudden anxiety, stepped into the no-man's land between her parents and partner, looking more nervous than she had on her first date. "I'd like you to meet Wren. My new partner. Government issue and everything. Wren," she turned towards the clone, smiling and gesturing at the couple. "Meet Eda and Shiv, my folks."

No one moved. At his side, Eda was as rigid as a Woostroid statue and just as unmoving. The clone - Wren, Shiv mentally chided himself - looked like a man waiting for the trap to be sprung.

Ro, no doubt sensing the mounting tension and awkwardness, shot a pleading look at Shiv.

Shiv cleared his throat and hastily stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, lad."

The lad grimaced and glanced down at the outstretched hand, as if wondering if he should grasp it in turn or just save them all the trouble and pull his blaster.

Ro elbowed Wren in the armored side. "Go on, Cookie," she urged. "Try the civil act. Just like we talked about."

Wren shot her a look that could have dropped a bantha from fifty meters away, a sneer working its way onto his lips. Even with his back turned, Shiv could feel the icy blast of Eda's disapproval at the gesture.

Moons, grant me strength, he thought. In a desperate effort to head-off an early bloodbath, Shiv quickly grasped one of Wren's hands, shaking it vigorously, half-thinking that the greater amount of vigor he applied, the less likely the man was to be skinned alive by his darling wife and made into a new pair of opera gloves.

"It's good to have you here, lad. Eda and I are looking forward to getting to know you."

Wren looked down at the hand engulfed in Shiv's big paw. "Sure," he drawled. "Whatever the fek you say."

Eda drew in a sharp, hissing breath.

"And this," Shiv continued hastily, "is my lovely wife." Shiv took the young man by the elbow, giving him a slight push forward as he did so and using the moment to exchange a quick look with Ro.

Ro was waving her hands frantically, shaping silent words with her lips too fast for Shiv to catch their meaning.

He didn't get the warning until Ro closed her eyes in defeat and he heard the distinctive rustle of shimmersilk and the sound of a sharp songsteel blade cutting the air.

"Manners," Eda hissed, "are important. Especially in this house."

The lad had incredible self-control. Wren's eyes slid down to where the tip of the songsteel dagger rested against his Adam's apple, but otherwise didn't so much as bat an eye. Indeed, he appeared to be more amused by the threat pricking the skin of his throat than alarmed.

Ah, lad, you've got no idea what force you're dealing with.

"I've heard that," Wren said in a laconic drawl.

If Shiv had possessed sweat-glands, he would have been dripping from his pores right about now.

Ro's going to need a new partner before the sun sets, he realized and wondered what sort of flimsis the GAR would need him to fill out to explain the untimely demise of this hapless trooper.

Nostrils flaring in outrage at the attitude, Eda speared Shiv with an accusing glare. "See. I told you. Just like Fett."

That got a reaction out of Wren that was definitely not amused.

It never ceased to amaze Shiv how well a Human could bristle with their distinct lack of body fur.

"I'm nothing like Fett, you kriffi..." Wren's snarl of outrage was cut short by a bellow - most likely more of surprise than pain, given the strength of plastoid - as Ro kicked his knee from behind.

"You jerk," Ro yelled, red faced from anger and embarrassment. "Don't you dare go calling my mother names!"

"Mother?" Wren repeated incredulously and cast a quick glance at Eda, while rubbing his abused knee. He snorted in derision. "When did she fekking have you? While she was standing with only one fraggin' leg in the grave? I don't kriffing know much about fems, cheeka, but even I know a bantha past her effing expiration date when I see one."

The silence that followed was thunderous, broken only by Shiv's resigned sigh and the squeak of his prosthetic leg as he moved out of firing range.

Wren hit the back porch hard, shoulder first, the songsteel blade thudding into the wooden railing above him, missing his scalp by an inch. A second blade, smaller and thinner, but no less deadly, followed a breath behind the first. The tip of the throwing knife buried itself in the wood between his legs, dangerously close to his manhood.

"Fek!"

He looked up just in time to see two figures appear by the backdoor; one dressed in crimson and bronze shimmersilk and the other in a bright yellow dress patterned with silver stars.

Eda and Ro were the iconic picture of female fury and the combined power of their glares was enough to make the virility of every man within a twenty-meter radius shrivel up and die.

The old woman sniffed, looking down her nose at him like he was something unpleasant she'd found clinging to the bottom of her silky slippers. "Cretin," she said crisply. "Uncouth boor." And she turned in a whirl of elegant shimmersilk and walked back into the house.

"Mono jerk," Ro added and followed the old woman, slamming and locking the door shut behind her for good measure.

Wren drew a hand over his face. "Kriff. Ing. Hell."

An hour later, Shiv decided to have mercy on the lad.

The respective tempers of the two women in his life had cooled sufficiently for Shiv to deem it safe for his own hide to check up on Wren. He even went so far as to risk life and tail to snag a plate and some of the goodies Eda had prepared in advance. After all the excitement, no doubt the trooper would be hungry.

Much to his surprise, when he unlocked the backdoor, Shiv found Wren in the same spot he'd been before, back leaning against the wooden railing, idly running his fingers over the edge of the throwing knife that had nearly speared a vital part of his anatomy, courtesy of Shiv's daughter.

He looked up at the sound of Shiv's approach, but made no effort to rise or even overly acknowledge the Shistavanen's presence.

Shiv was no Jedi and certainly no Force-empath like Ro, but even he could see that the boy was in a brown study; tightly controlled anger and humiliation flickering through his eyes like lightning.

Oh dear.

Shiv ambled over to the clone slowly, making a show of his own frailty. Brooding or no, it was not a good idea to come across as too much of a threat to a man trained from birth to do nothing but fight. Especially when said man had just gotten his arse handed to him by a little girl and an old woman.

The low groan that escaped him as he slid down next to the clone, was, however, not at all faked. His bones no longer liked resting against hard, unforgiving surfaces. Shiv stretched out his prosthetic leg, wriggling a little until he could dangle his tail from the gaps in-between the porch's railing. Then he presented the plate of food to Wren.

"Hungry?" he asked. "It's good."

Wren glanced over the offering and Shiv saw a curious mix of emotions cross the young man's face. Derision, anger, but also something that might have been shame and perhaps a touch of longing.

"I'll pass," he said tightly.

Shiv cocked his ears. "You sure? I've never heard a man pass on my wife's cooking."

Wren's lips thinned and he pointedly looked away.

"Alright. We can save it for later." Shiv put the plate down between them and settled back against the railing, letting the silence stretch. Wren seemed determined to look anywhere but at Shiv and Shiv took the opportunity to study the clone's countenance more closely.

Fett seemed to stare back at him from Wren's closed face, but now that the initial shock over the resemblance had passed and he was looking more closely, Shiv noticed some definite differences between Wren and his...What? Donor? Template? Father?

A question best left for other days.

The point was, Eda had been wrong. Wren was not a carbon copy of the original, at least, not exactly. The features were all there, but time and experience had put quite a different stamp on them.

For one, Fett had never been quite that tall, nor as broad in the shoulder and chest. And even with the armor on, Shiv could tell this lad had more muscle on him.

Fett's body had been marked by a hard childhood, malnutrition and the endless, brutal years he'd spent as a slave.

It was obvious from Wren's built that he'd spent his life eating right and exercising his body until it was a finely tuned machine. The trooper exuded good health and vitality, enough so to make an old wolf like him almost jealous.

But there's the same hardness around the mouth and the same jaded look in his eyes. Whatever the differences, Wren and Fett did have one thing in common for sure: bitter experiences and memories.

Though even Fett had a tad more tact than this pup. Thinking of Fett and his last encounter with the man, Shiv chuckled, then broke into whoops of laughter, slapping his durasteel knee as he did so.

Wren's head whipped about at the sound, the brooding look on his face replaced by one of irritation.

"What?" he asked, in a tone so harsh that it turned the question into a demand.

"You," Shiv said, pointing one finger-claw at the clone, then howling with laughter again. "You certainly know how to make a first impression."

Now the poor pup appeared to be just as confused as he was irritated. "Kriff. So is the insanity genetic or just plain effing contagious?"

Shiv shook his head, wheezing with laughter and clapped the lad companionably on the shoulder. "Forgive an old wolf," he said, wiping a tear away from his one remaining eye. "The past just caught up with me."

Wren frowned, clearly not understanding and Shiv, dropping his jaw in a Shistavanen smile that exposed a row of long, white fangs, deigned to explain. "I remembered a different occasion on which a man such as yourself walked into my den and my love threatened to kick him out in small, convenient pieces. Fett though," and the smile widened to frightening proportions, "had the sense or lacked the guts to force Eda to make good on her threat. I'm still trying to decide which." He slapped Wren's shoulder again, rocking the trooper slightly, despite his sturdy frame. "My mate's a feisty little fireworm and there aren't many who dare to fan the flames. I'm not sure if that little display back there makes you a brave man or a dead wet walking."

He peered thoughtfully at Wren's face, which had grown darker by the second. Angrily, the clone shrugged off Shiv's big hand, standing abruptly. "I'll tell you the same kriffing thing I told that effing harpy of yours," he snarled down at the still seated Shiv. "I am. Fekking. Nothing. Like Fett."

Shiv regarded the Human for a few long seconds, then slowly got to his feet as well, all laughter gone from his usually affable face.

"No," he said, slowly. "You're not. For one, Fett had enough manners and common sense not to insult someone in their own home." He thought about that for a bit, then amended, "Or if he did, he had the grace to at least pretend like he was sorry afterwards."

Wren looked away, leaning his elbows on the porch's railing. The lad was back to brooding.

Shiv sighed, wondering what in all the moon's bright blazes Ro saw in this snarling pup. The other fellows she'd brought home hadn't been nearly as moody or suicidal. And that mouth of his. He'd better clean up his act if he was going to become a permanent fixture in Ro's life, or else he'd find himself on the receiving end of liquid soap and Eda's unforgiving hand.

If he stayed, that was. And given Ro's reaction to his unflattering first encounter with her family, that prospect was looking rather dubious. It was a rare occasion indeed to see Ro's wrath on full display and the consequences were not to be taken likely.

Shiv looked from Wren to the house, feeling sorry about this whole darn mess. Ro had been so excited about finally having a partner and she'd sounded confident over the holo-transmitter about this one's staying-power. She'd be crushed if she let anger guide her decisions now. Maybe not right this instant, but certainly once Wren was over the horizon. He'd better try and smooth some of the friction before decisions were made that could not be taken back later on.

"Perhaps," Shiv suggested as casually as he could, "you should meander back in there and apologize. Ro will forgive and it would go a long ways to mollifying Eda. She still won't like you, mind," he added admonishingly, "but she mainly wants Ro happy and if Ro's happy with you, then Eda will refrain from using you for target practice." He nodded at the songsteel blade still sticking out of the railing.

Wren glanced at it, sneered and turned his attention back to the tree that dominated the inner courtyard. It was in full bloom and the afternoon air was thick and sweet with the scent of its blossoms.

Shiv waited a while, but Wren made no move towards the door. His tail lashed out in irritation. "Rings and moons," he muttered, "you cannot be that proud."

But the lad was and a single glance at his closed face proved that.

"Now that," Shiv said, poking his finger-claw into the clone's bicep, "makes you like Fett."

This time, Shiv was prepared for the rush of rage coming his way.

Before Wren could do more than snarl, Shiv had clamped down on the back of his neck with a vice-like grip. Flexing powerful muscles, Shiv slammed Wren back down onto the railing.

The lad struggled, - Shiv had expected no less - cursing up a foul storm that Shiv hoped to all heavens Eda couldn't hear, but even a strong young man like Wren didn't stand a chance against a Shistavanen's pure muscle mass.

And it didn't take Wren too long to figure out that fact either.

Breathing hard, his struggles slowly abated, until he lay flat against the railing, hands gripping the wood hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Shiv cocked his head, looking at the lad with the mild curiosity of a veteran parent of a thousand temper tantrums. He had, after all, trained recruits for the military for several decades.

"You done yet, lad?"

"Fek off," Wren snarled, good enough to put any wolf to shame.

"Uh-huh. You know, I had a squadmate once; a Wookiee by the name of Freyyar. Smart as a whip she was and one of the best heavy gunners I ever knew. But she had a temper; a bad one."

"I'm not in the effing mood for some kriffing bed-time story."

Shiv decided to ignore the interruption. "That temper of hers, it kept getting her into trouble until she was declared an outcast and banished from Kashyyyk." He was listening now; Shiv could practically smell the attention Wren was paying the words. "She tried working on it," Shiv continued and felt the old nostalgia settle into his bones as he remembered Freyyar, smashing a sabacc table to pieces after losing a game, scaring the attending waitress into heart-palpatations. She'd been sorry afterwards, but regret after the fact did not tend to erase the past and it had been only one of many such similar incidents. "Freyyar never could get a handle on her temper." Shiv sighed. "Until the day it got her killed. She lost her head during an op and as a result, got herself shot by a small time smuggler not even worth the flimsi work it would have taken to run him in."

Wren's breathing had calmed, but it still rang loudly in Shiv's ears; evidence of the trooper's own continued battle with his temper.

"Are you getting what I'm trying to say here, lad?"

"Yes." The word came out through clenched teeth.

"Good." Shiv let go of his neck and Wren immediately straightened, taking three cautious steps back and revealing Ro's slim throwing-knife in his right hand. He made no effort to bring the knife into an attack position, but his grip on the hilt was firm.

Like a pup baring his teeth at the big bad wolf, Shiv thought with some amusement.

"You need to work on your self-control, lad."

Wren narrowed his eyes at Shiv, but this time he managed to fight down the fit of anger. He didn't answer, but Shiv noticed the way his face tightened and the slow movement of his left thumb over his knuckles.

Too proud to admit it, but he knows I'm right.

To demonstrate that the confrontational part of the evening was over, Shiv leaned back against the railing, deliberately putting himself into an awkward position, should it come to another fight. Wren's eyes flickered, noting the movement.

"I'm just pointing it out," Shiv went on affably, jerking his head towards the house, "because there are tempers in there that I wouldn't want to risk provoking, if I were you. That," and he pointed at the knife in Wren's hand and Eda's songsteel blade still stuck in the railing, "is my girls being vexed. You don't want to see what they can do when they get really angry. My Eda's been known to frighten gundarks."

The scarred corner of Wren's lip twitched and he glanced quickly at the songsteel blade. "The old bat's fast," he conceded.

Shiv chuckled. "Lad, you've got no idea. Didn't Ro warn you in the least?"

Chagrin briefly flooded Wren's face and he looked away from Shiv. "She tried," he admitted grudgingly.

And you didn't believe her. Or downright weren't listening.

Shiv idly scratched behind his tattered ear. "Well, you're in luck. Ro's a happy little bit in general and she'll calm down quick enough and Eda will probably let you back into the house if Ro puts in a good word for you. Though I'll tell you right now, it'll be a warm day on Hoth before my mate'll forget and forgive this little episode. An apology would pave the way, however."

Wren crossed his arms over his chest, a sullen and stubborn expression crossing his face.

"I don't apologize."

Shiv let out a deep breath, trying very hard not to introduce his head - or the trooper's - to the house's wall.

Of all the milking traits Fett had to pass along, he just had to go ahead and give this one a double dose of pride.

Alright, time to try another exit strategy out of this mess.

"Sometimes," Shiv said slowly, raking his claws along the wooden railing, "a small gesture can go a long ways. If you don't want to say you're sorry, perhaps you could do something to prove to my girls that you're perhaps only half the bastard that you come across as."

Much to his surprise, that comment garnered a smile from Wren, along with a snort that might have been the first stirrings of real laughter. The gesture changed his entire appearance from angry and sullen to rakish and surprisingly boyish.

It lasted only for a few seconds, but having caught the change, Shiv found he felt better about the lad than he had before. He'd seen worse characters in his life and the Force alone knew he'd had to drill through terrible character flaws, back when he was still training recruits. There was some good raw material in the pup, Shiv thought, once you got past the bared teeth and raised hackles and knocked him arse-over-tail a few times.

"Well, just think over what I said," he told the trooper, striving for the kindly, well-meaning tone he'd used on the few occasions his pups had sought some advice from their sire. "A little give can go a long way. It's just plain good tactics."

Someone cleared their throat and Shiv and Wren turned to see Ro standing in the doorway.

His daughter ran one hand over the skirt of her dress, smoothing out a few wrinkles in the bright yellow material. "Shiv," she said, without glancing in Wren's direction, "Eda says she would like some music now. Do you want to come to the library?"

Shiv slanted a quick look at Wren, but his expression had grown closed and guarded once more.

"I'd like that," Shiv said, straightening until his spine popped. He crooked one clawed finger at Wren. "Come along, lad, you're in for a treat."

Both young people looked startled at his invitation.

"Well?" Shiv looked expectantly from one to the other.

Ro shot a doubtful glance at Wren from beneath tousled bangs.

Wren hesitated and Shiv thought he could smell the first onsets of slight panic on the lad. His heart had certainly accelerated a few beats. Wren, it would appear, was treading new, unexplored waters and was only just now realizing he might be in too deep.

But before Shiv could come to his rescue, the moment of indecision passed and Wren, giving himself a slight jerk, walked over to Ro.

The little Jedi watched him, first warily then in astonished delight as Wren showed her the throwing-knife he still held. The trooper tossed the knife into the air, flipping it end-over-end with a deft twist of his wrist and caught the blade easily, proffering it to Ro hilt first.

"You've got kriffing good aim, cheeka," he told her solemnly. "The old bi..." he stopped, glanced at Shiv who cocked an ear at him, then changed what he'd been about to say. "Eda does as well."

Ro looked from him to the knife, her face taking on that thoughtful, slightly spaced-out expression she tended to wear when she was sensing something through the Force.

The depth of Wren's good intentions perhaps?

Shiv didn't know and apparently neither did Wren, for both men waited tensely for Ro to come to a decision.

She plucked the knife out of Wren's hand, sliding it back up the sleeve of her dress and securing it in the arm sheath. She gave Wren another long, thoughtful look, then went back into Odd Ends.

Wren stared after her, then shot Shiv a quick, questioning look, clearly not used to the silent treatment and uncertain what to make of it.

Shiv slapped his back enthusiastically, the gesture sending Wren over the threshold.

"Well done, lad," Shiv told him, the smile back on his face. "Now remember, the fight you walk away from is a victory and it's the duty of every soldier to do what he can to achieve that victory." The old Shistavanen looked about, but Eda must already be upstairs. He leaned closer to Wren, whispering in a conspiratorial tone. "So if you want to take home the prize and enjoy the spoils, I'd suggest rolling on your back and wagging your tail. The fems love that."

Wren snorted, rolling his eyes. "Thermal, the whole kriffing lot of them."