IhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethis!

Simeon Cates chanted those lines over and over again in his mind, as if he'd invented an alternative Jedi Temple mantra. It didn't give him the least bit comfort. It didn't relax him. He felt as if the force had deserted him in his darkest hour.

How he wished those rotten kids would do the same!

In the space of an hour, he'd been kicked, punched, throttled and had to endure the most humiliating assault on a certain part of his anatomy, as a result of which he felt sure that producing children may well be an impossibility should the right lady ever appear on the scene. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

He hated kids. With a passion.

This miniature swarm of Sith had taken advantage of the fact that he was completely clueless when it came to entertaining children, Jedi or otherwise. The fact they had rudimentary force skills had made the matter worse. They had found out quite early on that he was extremely ticklish, and boy, had they made him pay.

Things had started off badly, he decided, and declined progressively thereafter. He had somehow rounded the little vrelts together and marched them over to the Ankula enclosure, a species of colorful, shaggy haired rodent that stood some three feet off the ground. Well, he thought, THEY had marched.

HE had limped.

The urge to whimper became a very strong one when he recalled the next stage in the whole sorry affair. The kids had tried to get as close to the force barrier as possible, in order to get as good a view of the creatures as possible. Only the animals in question were not to be seen. According to the data screen outside the enclosure, the inhabitants had just started their hibernation cycle.

Reading it was one thing; telling it to four disappointed children was another. Simeon just stood there, trying to get his head round the idea of fate conspiring against him. Who would have thought that Ankula's hibernated?

He wished he were an Ankula.

He sighed, scrunching up his dark, almost black eyes, wishing he wasn't here. Right now, he should be back at the temple with the healers, learning from An-Paj and the other Jedi who were skilled in all things medical. He had been proud to be taken on as an apprentice healer; he felt that his strength lay with trying to help combat all suffering, sickness and misery. He had said as much. But then An-Paj had taken him to one side, congratulating him on his noble ideals and ethics, before he proceeded to tell him that generally speaking, Jedi healers were the most miserable beings that inhabited the galaxy, which inturn helped them to cope with the job.

"Be miserable," he had said to Simeon Cates, "that way when the patients see how depressed you are, they feel a hundred times happier with their own situation." And then he had winked.

"Are you miserable, An-Paj?" he had asked, entirely confused.

"Of course I'm miserable," he replied deadpan, "I've got six wives, haven't I!"

Well, if being miserable was a pre-requisite of being a good healer, he was well and truly on the way to being the Universe's finest.

The kids had got restless. They had decided that if the Ankula's were not coming out to play, they would have to manufacture their own entertainment.

They had pelted him with Candyfloss.

During his attack, Simeon wondered briefly if Obi-Wan was fairing any better. He didn't really care, if he was honest, he just needed to be able to converse with somebody whose idea of a good time did not include coating him in sugar-based, edible fluff! His mind made up, he pulled the recalcitrant kids along behind him, ignoring the cries of protest, not to mention the strange looks he was beginning to garner. A piece of green floss had attached itself to his eyebrow. He left it there as a mark of his martyrdom, for all to see. Yes, he thought, as he limped off to find his friend.

IhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethisIhatethis...

*******

"No!"

"Pleeeeeease."

"I said NO!!!"

"Just one..."

Obi-Wan wondered how many ways there were to say NO. Obviously, it was a word that did not exist in Isadora Lucey's vocabulary.

"For the last time, I am NOT going to give you a kiss!"

"Oh, go onnnnnnnnnn!" she whined, following the object of her youthful crush as he desperately tried to move out of her reach.

"Just get back with the other children."

Silence.

"I love it when you frown. You've got such a neat frown!" she enthused.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Thought Obi-Wan.

" I bet I kiss better than that silly girlfriend of yours." she pouted.

"That is not something either of us are ever going to find out!" yelled Obi-Wan, trying to fend her off with raised arms. The other kids just stared at him blankly.

"You've got a really dreamy voice too," she sighed. "That is such a cool accent! I just loved it when you said the animals were proving "elusive". It was great!"

I wonder if it's too late to join the agri-corps, Obi-Wan thought darkly. She was beginning to move in on him again, when he saw the disheveled figure of Simeon Cates and a discontented huddle of children making their way over the hill in his direction. His fellow padawan was most definitely looking the worse for wear. Candyfloss stuck to him in large, ungainly clumps. His robe and tunic were plastered in it, as was his dark hair. Obi-Wan noticed that his friend seemed to favor his left side rather than the right. Forgetting his own problems for a moment, he wandered over to greet Simeon with a smile the size of a Hutt spreading rapidly across his face.

"DON'T ask." warned Simeon.

If anything, the grin became bigger. He motioned Simeon to sit down on the bench nearby, whilst Isadora hurrrumphed! in disgust that her prey had made a temporary escape. As the rest of the children played and screamed and fought, Obi-Wan held his head in his hands.

"I am WHACKED!" he groaned.

"YOU'RE whacked?!!" challenged Simeon. He gestured to the kids. "I've tried being nice to this Sithspawn, but all I got for my trouble was a kick in the buffers!"

"They never!" laughed Obi-Wan. Perhaps he had got off lightly. He looked at his wrist-chrono, and his expression became more subdued. "You haven't run into Jemmy have you?" he grimaced. "I've been round and round this damn enclosure so many times I'm beginning to feel dizzy."

Simeon shook his head. Sorry, Obi. I'm sure she'll turn up." He smirked. "She's probably ran into Master Jinn!"

Barely repressed fear danced its way across Obi-Wan's features.

"Don't say things like that!" He hung his head once more. "Jemmy's clever. She'll manage to stay out of his way."

Although for how long, Obi-Wan had grave doubts. Qui-Gon wasn't strong in the living force for nothing.

He blew out a deep breath.

"I'm STILL whacked."

"I know. Makes you wonder how Master Jinn and Master Windu manage it." Simeon paused, reaching deep into his robe, before pulling out what seemed to resemble a hip flask. "Here," he offered it to Obi-Wan, "try some."

Obi-Wan took the proffered flask, unscrewing the metal stopper before sniffing the contents warily. He pulled a face.

"What in the name of Yoda's sainted stick is this?!" he cried in revulsion.

Simeon looked offended.

"It's medicinal alcohol. An-Paj made it in his still. I added some Cherryblade mixer to make it more palatable. It's from the store rooms in the medical..."

"You STOLE this from An-Paj's medical stores!" Obi-Wan began to quake visibly, "Simeon, you are a prize Nerf! What do you think he's going to do when he discovers it's gone? And who's taken it?"

Cates shrugged. "You'll just have to help me dispose of the evidence, then." he replied cheerfully.

Obi-Wan peered into his face. He hadn't really noticed how flushed his friend was before, or that his words were just a little slurred. Judging by appearances, Obi-Wan guessed that Simeon had started disposing of the evidence long before he'd met up with his friend.

"He'll know!" groaned Obi-Wan. "An-Paj always knows. He sees everything that goes on in the temple." He stared at his lap forlornly. "He once told me to see to my blisters half an hour before they came up!"

"Relax, Obi."

"Relax?!"

"I put a flagon of water in its place at the back of the store. He'll never find it."

Obi-Wan shivered. "Do you know what a plant looks like?" he asked Simeon finally.

The question surprised his companion, even in his Semi-inebriated state.

"Of course."

"Good." snapped Obi-Wan "Coz, we're both going to be seeing a lot of them when we're shipped off to Bandomeer!"

He looked about. Jemmiah was nowhere in sight. One of the children seemed to be attempting to eat one of its fellows. To his right, Isadora Lucey stalked and circled like a Wampa with the smell of blood in its nostrils.

Obi-Wan gave another groan.

"I'm after you with the flask."

Simeon nodded. "Here's to being miserable."

*******

"...And this is the Murrit enclosure." the keeper indicated with a general sweep of his arm.

Mace Windu felt as if he was glowing. In fact, he felt positively radiant. In many ways, this was his greatest triumph since he had gone from padawan to knight.

The kids were quiet!

He'd cracked it! The little horrors were listening attentively to the animal keeper, literally hanging on his every word, excited at the chance to actually mingle with the creatures and see them face to face instead of behind a force barrier. It had taken a little persuasion on Mace's part for the eight strong private party of master and initiates to be allowed into the enclosure itself, but the keeper had taken pity on him and agreed, on condition that everyone was silent and well behaved.

The keeper had stressed the well-behaved part, Windu had noticed, before fixing him with an "OR ELSE" kind of look. But then again, if you can't trust a Jedi to remain calm and placid in times of chaos, who could you?

If only Qui-Gon was here to see this wondrous transformation from hellions to little angels in one fell swoop. Mace wondered if his friend had had any luck with locating the little boy, and found himself glancing at his wrist chrono. I hope he finds him soon, he thought, hissing through clenched teeth. Yoda would have them dismembered if they didn't. Or worse still, assisting the temple cooks for a month...

He was brought back to the present by a quite deliberate kick to the shin. "You're not listening." the little girl hissed at him. Frowning, as he rubbed his injured leg, Mace tried for appearance sake to look interested. After all, if the kids could stay quiet, he could stay awake.

Maybe.

It appeared that they were just past the Murrit breeding season, but for as yet unexplained reasons the egg production of the impossibly hairy creatures had been extremely low.

"It's probably because we had to move them to a larger enclosure earlier in the year." explained the keeper in hushed tones. "Murrit's are very territorial creatures. They don't like a lot of disturbance to their surrounds. We think that by moving them we may have stressed them slightly, hence the low egg production."

Sabra-Ni held up her hand to ask a question. "Why do they lay eggs? They've got fur."

The keeper smiled. "That's a good question. Usually, it's birds and reptilian creatures that lay eggs..."

"And spiders." whispered one of the older girls.

"Yes." agreed the keeper, slightly annoyed at the interruption.

"And fish." muttered another girl.

"Yes, thank you." glared the keeper, with a just-who's-the-expert-here-anyway look about him. "However, this is a prime example of how truly diverse nature is. Murrits are warm blooded, lactating animals that just happened to lay eggs. Nobody knows why."

"Because eggs go better with toasted bread!" giggled Sabra-Ni.

Mace recalled Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's earlier urge to hit their heads off various walls and supporting structures and found that it was all he could do to stop himself from walking over to the nearest tree to do likewise.

"Why are they so far away?" little Kelda Rosset asked in disappointment, pointing to a group of suspicious looking Murrits hovering some forty feet away.

"Well, because they don't know who you are," the keeper tried to console her gently, "They're used to myself and the other keepers, infact they're quite tame. They're hanging back to see if you're a threat to themselves and the few eggs they've managed to produce."

As he spoke, one of the male Murrits started to edge its way forward out from the tall grasses where they were congregating. For some reason Mace couldn't fathom, it seemed to have fixed its beady eyes firmly on him...

The keeper continued cautiously, "Murrits make very protective parents. They have special grips on their feet like suckers, that help to grip hold of their eggs. They secrete a rather foul smelling glue-like substance from glands in their paws that allow them to do this. Once the Murrit father has attached himself in this way, it becomes almost impossible to remove him from the egg."

"Why do they do that?" asked Kelda, frowning.

The keeper thought. "Well, when they're in the wild there are lots of hungry predators that might be looking for something to go with their toasted bread." he smiled. "By staying attached, the male can almost make certain of the initial survival of the offspring. He has another interesting defense mechanism; a spray of scent from the base of the tail which, believe me, is quite enough to deter the most persistent of egg robbers."

Oh, charming, thought Mace. They sound so cute. Maybe we should get one to use as the temple mascot. He noticed the Murrit still had its eyes trained rigidly on him. He watched it slink a little closer to them.

"How big are the eggs?" Sabra-Ni asked.

The keeper pointed to the Murrit. "You can see how big that one is," he replied. "Well, that's the normal size for a fully grown adult. The eggs are about the size of a human head," he said gesturing to his own skull, "and are a shiny brownie-tan color. They only lay one at a time to enable the male to protect it at all times."

At this point, Windu thought he ought to look as if he'd been paying attention. "Why the male?"

"Whilst the male is sat on the egg, the female goes out and collects the food. Berries, nuts, grasses and the like. She also, err..cleans up after the male."

A small groan of disgust ran through the group. Sabra said " You mean he doesn't get off the egg even to have a..."

"NO!" finished the keeper quickly. "As I say, the female does all the work."

"Figures." muttered one of the eight-year-old girls in Windu's group.

The Murrit that had been eyeing Mace had paused momentarily, its head cocked to one side as if in thought. Infact, it reminded him greatly of a cannoid of sorts, with its almost doglike snout and small sharp fangs. For most part it was covered in vast quantities of hair, ranging in golden brown through to near black on its tail, which it held aloft like a streamer.

Slowly, it continued its stalking. Slowly.

"How long do they sit on the eggs for?" asked one of the boys.

"Usually, about two months. Sometimes longer, sometimes less. You can never really tell. For as long as it takes for the Murrit to hatch. But as I say, they are doting parents, and once they're on their egg, it's very much a case of being there for the duration..."

A flash of golden-brown fur and a crescendo of screams from the kids in Mace's charge told him that something unexpected was happening, and before reaching out with the force to confirm his bad feeling, there was a whoosh of air from towards his left side, and a horrible feeling of hairy warmth settling upon his face and head. He reached up instinctively to see what was going on, and received a nip to his right hand. Suddenly, his vision went completely black, as a dark blanket of long hair settled over his eyes.

Mace tried to swat the offending object once more, but it was futile. Whatever it was, it was stuck tight.

*******

"I'm sorry Master Windu," the keeper shook his head in despair, "Nothing like this has ever happened before in all the days I've been working here."

Mace Windu just stood there with his arms folded, complete with his new Murrit headgear. It had been a considerable amount of time since his head had been this warm, and it made him feel damned uncomfortable. The Murrit itself seemed quite content, and had settled down remarkably quickly. It fixed one eye on the keeper, watching for any sudden movement.

GO AHEAD, it seemed to be thinking, YOU KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF YOU DO.

"So it's never happened before," Windu's reply came back slightly muffled under a cascade of Murrit hair. "That doesn't help me in the slightest."

"I don't know why it's behaving this way." The keeper scratched his head, at a loss to know what to do next.

There was a wave of giggling from amongst the children, until a tug on his robe got Mace's attention.

"Master Windu," Sabra-Ni tittered, "HE THINKS YOU'RE AN EGG!"

Mace swallowed. Where was Qui-Gon when you needed him?

He turned to where he thought the keeper was.

"Err, how long did you say these things stayed put?"

*******

"Our sneak-thief has taken the bait."

An-Paj shot out of his seat is if burned. Grabbing his cloak, he hastily made his way across the marble floor, footsteps echoing as he moved towards the direction of the storeroom.

Got you now Cates, he thought, you thieving little vrelt.

Not that An-Paj didn't like Simeon. He was in most respects a hard working, indeed almost over-zealous individual, whose first concern was usually with his patients. Except that recently, his mind had been elsewhere altogether.

The healer had no direct proof that Simeon had been stealing the medicinal alcohol from the stores, but it did seem a likely bet. There was no telling how long it had being going on for, as whoever was responsible covered their trail fairly meticulously. But this time, An-Paj would put a stop to it once and for all. He grinned.

It had been one of Yoda's more enterprising ideas.

Hurrying towards his colleague who was awaiting An-Paj's arrival, he subconsciously rubbed his hands in glee. He would need proof of guilt.

And this time he would have it.

I'll show you what true misery's really like, Simeon. By the time Yoda and I are finished with you, you'll be begging to go to Bandomeer.

Ferdi Xadaani met him by the door. "Look. He's replaced it with a flagon of water." she smiled. "Oldest trick in the book."

"Hmmm." nodded An-Paj. "He won't be up to playing tricks of any kind for a long time, let me tell you."

She looked at him suspiciously. "What have you done?"

"It was Yoda's idea, really. I can't take any credit." He smiled enigmatically. "I informed our resourceful friend that we had a thief in our midst, and he suggested that we add a little something to make his drink a bit more interesting. Oh, nothing harmful, I assure you. In small doses, it'll just give him a bit of a green-ish coloring. And maybe a slight belly ache."

She stared at An-Paj. "How did you know he'd take the right one?"

"I doctored the lot." An-Paj said simply. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Padawan Healer Dimallie caught up with them outside the door. "Did it work?" she breathed in anticipation.

"Apparently so. Provided you dosed them as I said, I think we'll have no problems picking the guilty party out."

"Oh, yes," she smiled, delighted at being able to assist the great An-Paj, "I put in three heaped spoonfuls of Sandolomide, just as you said."

"Between all the flagons?" An-Paj somehow felt the need to reassure himself. He had a very bad feeling... "No...in each of them. Wasn't that what you wanted?" Alarm seemed to root her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

"In each of them." repeated An-Paj.

"Yes." she swallowed.

An hour seemed to pass as An-Paj stared ahead of him at nothing in particular.

Finally, he pulled out his com-link.

"Master Yoda? I think we have a problem."

*******

"Bad news, this is." Yoda frowned.

"Indeed, Master."

"Harmful, it is?"

"Master, not to put too fine a point on it, if he drinks the whole lot he's going to be up there flying with the Mynocks. I warned you how strong it was."

"True, this is."

"Not to mention the fact that the coloring will probably take months to fade from his skin."

"Serve him right, it will!"

"Maybe. But, Master, I am a healer. I'm supposed to make people better, not make them ill. I'm sure the Jedi council has rules against poisoning padawans."

"Know some who would benefit from it, I do." muttered Yoda.

"Master?!"

"Joking, I was."

An-Paj pursed his lips. "I hadn't really expected to have to do another padawan stomach pumping exercise, which is what this is going to turn out to be if we can't get hold of Master Jinn and Master Windu."

He cut the connection off quickly. It was not one of the most glorious moments in An-Paj's glittering career.

Yoda snorted, annoyed. Yet another person had put him on their hit list. He decided that now would be a very good time to practice that cough he was trying earlier...