The tiny human who sat on the floor, cooing as he felt the rough coral beneath his hands. Nom Anor watched him carefully. If the Jedi baby died, they would lose their chance of dealing a blow that would cripple the order and most likely destroy its leaders.

He did not care about any of this however. All he wanted was for this pathetic infidel to be passed on to a less important member of his caste so he could get back to work.

He was torn away from his thoughts at the sound of the baby shrieking.

"What is it, you mewling infidel?" He demanded. The baby looked up at him with tears in his eyes and said softly "Boo-boo." sure enough, there was a cut, presumably inflicted by the Yorik coral, on the tiny palm.

"That's it?" Nom Anor asked incredulously. "That is why you cry? I would think the child of a Jedi would be better at embracing the pain! Any one of our children would have purposely done that and then enjoyed it!"

"Boo-boo." Was the adamant reply.

"I will not pander to you like some pet! You will endure this! How else will you prepare to be a weapon against the Jedi?"

"Boo-boo."

"Gah! Why do the gods punish me so?"

The child was had crawled up to him and was now holding his hand out.

"What? What do you want me to do?"

The baby pursed his little lips, and made a wet smacking sound.

Nom Anor sighed and wiped spittle from his face. "Use your limited vocabulary."

"Kiss Boo-boo."

"What? No. No, no, no. I refuse."

As soon as he said it, he knew he had made a mistake. The little face scrunched up, the mouth opened and the most unearthly sound came out.

"That won't help."

More screams

"This is extremely immature of you."

The wails continued.

"Stop this! It is beneath you." It might attract too much attention. It was starting to give him a headache too.

"That was your last chance. I will be forced to use other methods."

The wail stopped abruptly. "F-force?" Came the tearful voice.

"No, not the Force, use force."

And the screaming continued.

"That's it! Fine! I'll kiss your 'Boo-boo' if you just stop that infernal racket!"

The hand was stuck in his face again.

How are you even supposed to do this? He thought.

He puckered up him fringed lips and pressed them against the baby's hand. Behind him he heard the Hatch-Sphincter open. He spun to find a warrior standing there, a look of shock on his face. As fast as he could he twitched his eye shooting poisen from his Playrin Bol at the other. The warrior collapsed in in a writhing heap. soon his convulsions stopped and he lay still.

Nom Anor turned back to face the baby, only to find him gone. He felt a tugging on his robe and looked down. There was the child, crawling towards the dead body. "Wait!" He yelled. Too late. The baby poked the warriors face and pronounced solemnly "Dead."

"Yes. Dead."

The baby smiled. "Good! Do again!"

Nom Anor groaned. This was going to be a long night.