    Cody and the Baby Start Over Program 2: Ashes of the Sith

    Summary: This is not like most stories on this site in that it doesn't
    focus on diapers or being diapered. Instead, it is a comment on the
    Sith philosophy.

    In the story, a Sith Lord enters the program with a two part mission,
    1) find out the locations of any other start over programs, and 2)
    destroy the facility. He is all too eager to proceed with the second
    step; every adult in the facility enjoys their jobs and take pleasure
    from reducing teenage delinquents into teenage infants. That is, until
    he finds a nanny who genuinly loves and pities the children, and whom
    he finds it very hard to hate in return...

    Note; if you are looking for explicit 'diaper action,' this is not the
    story for you.

    Cody and the Baby Start Over Program 2: Ashes of the Sith

    Ch1

    	My name is Morgoth. I am of the Sith.
    	Ah, your prejudices are already apparent. You assume that I am an
    insane killer, driven by a lust for violence and blood, killing without
    a second thought. This type, however, represents only a small fraction
    in a much greater society, and are generally looked down upon by the
    rest of us. Like the humans we once were (for how could one with such
    advanced perceptions still bear that title?), no two of us are exactly
    alike: some derive their power from hate, some from fear, some pain;
    some specialize in manipulation, others in combat, still others in
    assassination; some may wish to conquer the world, some to kill it, and
    some, like me, wish to see the world become entirely Sith. Still,
    despite our differences, there is one thing that all Sith have in
    common: we all derive power from the Dark Side of the Force.
    	I sat on the bus and began to meditate. There was nothing else to
    do, after all. My belongings had already been taken away from me (among
    them, a lightsaber disguised as a flashlight), and the bus driver was
    too resistant to the more subtle forms of mental suggestion to provide
    me with much sport. It was also night, so the scenery was all but
    invisible. In any case, I would need to keep a clear head if I were to
    stay sane where I was going.
    	I closed my eyes and muttered, "beneath the surface there is the
    Force…" There is no special power to these words, no magic attached to
    him. I simply find that they help clear my thoughts. I focused for a
    moment, then opened my third eye to the world around me.
    	The once dark and vague shapes outside the bus were illuminated
    with the energy of a thousand lives. The trees, the grass, even the
    ground itself hummed and throbbed with it's silent pulse. It flowed
    ceaselessly, forever moving, forever changing, never still. Even the
    smallest life caused a ripple, a ripple that would never entirely
    cease. It was the Force in its purest form; neither Light nor Dark;
    simply Force.
    	I turned my attention to the bus driver. It was easier to probe
    his mind in this state, and even though my physical body was that of a
    14 year old boy, my mind had almost a hundred years of experience to
    pull from.
    	I searched for more information on this 'program' I was being
    sent to. After a few minutes of vainly searching, I decided to simply
    ask him.
    	"What do you know about this program?"
    	He tried to sound 'tough' and 'in control' as he responded,
    "Yeah, like I'd tell you." In reality, he was terrified of me. I can
    hardly blame him. Though I had done much to hide the marks of the Dark
    Side, I still didn't look like a normal human child. My eyes still had
    streaks of yellow in their mostly blue irises, my skin still too pale,
    and my veins still carried a faint blackish tint. It also didn't help
    that I wore a black robe, with the hood pulled down over my eyes.
    	 I had expected his answer, but the question achieved the desired
    result. Information about the Center came to the forefront of his mind,
    making prying that much easier. Unfortunately, he knew even less than I
    did; he knew that tough, bad-ass punks went in, and after a while they
    came out as whimpering, sniveling little babies. He then began to take
    pleasure from the though of 'that little freak back there' going
    through the process, imagining the results in great detail.
    	"Yeah, well fuck you, too." I myself am not prone to profanity; I
    find it much more effective to be polite when I crush someone's neck. I
    simply had to maintain my disguise as a troubled teen on a boring ride.
    I could not allow them to know what I truly was; a ninety-seven year
    old Sith Lord inhabiting the body of a fourteen year old boy.
    	How the heck are you an old dude in a kid's body? you must be
    wondering. Among the Sith, I am known as one of the Elders. One of the
    'new' ones, I suppose, even though our minds are relatively old
    compared to that of an ordinary Sith's. We have mastered a technique of
    the Dark Side, in which a living mind can move from one body to
    another. This, in essence, allows anyone with sufficient skill to take
    over the body of another when theirs begins to fail. In times past, we
    would usually abduct a young child off the streets and use their body
    as a new vessel, but recent advances in technology have made that
    unnecessary. I myself had cloned my old body, made a few alterations,
    and when it was mature, I made the switch.
    	Indeed, the new one is even better than the old; Force Crystals
    run along my central nervous system, channeling my force energy and
    reinforcing mental commands; there are some in my frontal lobes that
    can store information perfectly and indefinitely; I even have special
    'organ' crystals located at various points along my blood stream,
    breaking down waste products into useable nutrients, essentially
    eliminating the need to eat altogether.
    	The Jedi, of course, consider all of this an 'unnatural
    abomination'. The Sith, on the other hand, merely think of it as a
    useful way to make themselves more powerful.
    	The bus soon passed though a prison-grade chain link fence, and
    came to a stop in front of an immense building. Once parked, two armed
    security guards wearing dark trench-coats escorted me off the bus and
    into the building. I silently laughed at that; if they knew how
    dangerous I really was, they would have brought in the national guard
    and held me at gunpoint.
    	They took me through a set of double doors, into a sort of lobby
    area. A short, greasy haired man greeted me with at the front desk with
    a clipboard.
    	"Ah, Mr. Jacob Robert Harrison, I assume? Convicted of Arson,
    Vandalism, Hate Crimes, and… oh dear, we seem to have a Murderer on our
    hands!"
    	His annoyingly high voice dripped with malicious sarcasm.
    Supposedly, I had been a member of a Neo-Nazi gang (the most convenient
    excuse, considering my now blue eyes and permanently hairless head),
    and had broke into a Jewish girl's home, set it ablaze, and killed her
    on the front lawn. I even had a small swastika on the shoulder of my
    robe. The police report was a complete fake, created by some of our
    people in the police department, just so that I could be 'sent' here.
    	"What, that's it? You should have been able to dig up more than
    that." Which was true enough. I had done enough in the past to put a
    hundred people in here, but it would be awkward to explain how a
    fourteen year old boy committed crimes twenty years ago.
    	He leaned over the desk and glared at me with hatred in his eyes.
    "You're so proud aren't you? Think you're a 'big man,' right? Well, we
    have ways of cutting kiddies like you down to size."
    	With that he snapped his fingers, and the guards put some sort of
    metal collar on me. I ignored this; instead, I focused on probing his
    mind.
    	The Sith Intelligence was right about him; he was just as sick
    and twisted as they described. Every single thought that ran through
    his tiny mind was somehow connected to sexual pleasure, domination in
    particular. Just sifting through his thoughts made me feel soiled, as
    if I was wading though a fetid bog filled with all manners of decay-
    	"GHAAA!" The shock had caught me by surprise. I was used to pain
    though; a former master, nicknamed "Sion" after the ancient Sith Lord,
    had trained me for a short time. He specialized in pain, and could even
    use his own to fuel his power in the Dark Side. The more he was hurt,
    the stronger he became. I was not as skilled as him, but I was
    certainly good enough to handle something as amateur as physical pain.
    	 "…and that is how we keep you in line." he finished. I glared up
    at him, anger burning within me. He caught me by surprise, making me
    cry out as if I had no control over my reactions. I would have dearly
    loved to show him how the Force could be used to shock someone.
    	"Painful, isn't it?" he said softly. "Be a good little boy, and
    you won't have to use this."
    	An idea came to me; if I they thought they could hurt me, I could
    catch them off guard. Not only that, but I had to put up the facade to
    maintain my disguise as a teenager. My anger cooled somewhat, and I
    decided to humor them.
    	"Fuck You!" I spat.
    	It shocked me for five seconds, as I knew it would when I uttered
    the curse word. I pretended to shriek in agony, while only feeling a
    mild discomfort. When it was done, I hung limply between the two
    guards, as if the 'pain' had left me exhausted.
    	He tittered in an intensely irritating fashion. "Oh, you've found
    out about our potty-language policy, have you? Let me break it down for
    you: Every time you curse, you will be shocked for five seconds. After
    two hundred, you will be shocked for ten, at four-hundred, fifteen,
    etcetera, etcetera. It's our special way of cleaning up dirty little
    mouths like yours."
    	While I could not overtly use my powers, subliminal influence was
    not out of the question. I lifted my head and stared directly into his
    eyes, allowing mine to flash their true color. Once again I connected
    with his wretched mind, but this time to plant a message in his
    subconscious. Fear Me, I thought. You do not understand what I am, and
    you will fear Me more than you have feared anyone before. Fear the
    Morgoth.
    	For a moment, I thought I had gone too far. He seemed paralyzed
    with terror, his eyes wide, his body trembling. After several seconds,
    however, he pushed a button on the desk and spoke into the intercom.
    	"Mrs. Ratchet, come to the front desk and take care of Morg- of
    Mr. Harrison. Quickly, please!"
    	I continued to stare at him until the attendant came in, just to
    make sure the message was deeply embedded in his mind. Sometimes, the
    ones who were strong willed enough, or just plain stupid, could manage
    to purge the message. I didn't want him to forget it any time soon.
    	The woman that came in was not unattractive. She seemed to be in
    her late twenties, and had her brown hair done up in a tight bun. She
    also sported wide hips and a rather large…chest region. If I had such
    desires, I may have found her 'hot,' but I felt nothing. I had
    specifically altered the sexual organs and glands in my second body so
    they would be non-functional. Such urges were distractions only, and
    nothing compared to the pull of the Dark Side.
    	The woman took me from the guards and picked me up effortlessly,
    confirming our suspicions that the collars were used to make the
    inmates weigh less, as well as being used for discipline. I wouldn't be
    surprised if they weaken us as well.
    	"Now who's this little guy?" She said to me in a baby-like, and
    rather foolish, voice.
    	Before the twisted man could speak (he was still terrified), I
    calmly answered her, "The name on the report says Jacob, but I prefer
    to be called Morgoth."
    	She remained un-phased. "Oh, but that just won't do! You're just
    such a cutesy pie-"
    	"Then perhaps you can shorten it to 'Morgue'." I cut her off, my
    temper blazing. "I've certainly done my share to fill one, and if
    you're not careful-"
    	As much as I hated being interrupted, I had to shriek as if the
    shock was actually painful. I had not anticipated how incredibly
    annoying this charade could be, but took solace from the fact that I
    would personally kill (painfully) every adult there before my mission
    was over.
    	'But what is your mission?' you must be asking. 'What could
    possibly drive one to endure this system willingly?' It's quite simple;
    I was attempting to recruit new Sith. Before the events in this story
    took place, the two main sources for new recruits were prisons and
    orphanages. Prisons, because the people sent there are inherently more
    Sith-like than others, and orphanages, because the children could be
    more easily taught than adults. Unfortunately, neither group is
    perfect: it is harder to teach adults, much less prisoners, to follow
    our ways, and the orphans could be a mixed batch, with some Dark and
    some Light. This new program would solve both problems; the kids sent
    here were Dark by nature, and could be properly raised under the Sith
    Code.
    	But for this to take place, we needed additional reconnaissance.
    We needed to know how they decoded the kids, who was in charge of the
    program, and, above all, if and where there were other facilities like
    this one. We had been trying for months to get one of our people a job
    here, but without success. For some reason, Sith didn't seem to be
    ideal caregivers for the children. We changed tactics. Instead, we
    would have one of us go through the process itself, and learn what we
    could. I volunteered, partially because I felt the experience would
    test me to my limits, but mostly because I wished to see the Sith Code
    grow and prosper. So far, the first had certainly proven to be true.
    	I knew what would happen next; I would be taken into a room,
    changed into a diaper and baby clothes, and then put into a 'nursery'
    where my only companions would be teenage boys with the mentality of
    infants. The thought sickened me, and I once again considered an old
    piece of wisdom; Physical things are temporary at best, and are always
    superficial. The diaper, the bottle, even the baby treatment, could be
    overcome with a strong enough will.
    	The experience was not as bad as I had thought it would be. The
    jump suit thing she put me in (I think it is called a 'footed sleeper')
    was little different from the focusing suit I ordinarily wear under my
    clothes; it was soft, baggy, and light blue, but otherwise the same. To
    make things even easier, she quickly grew tired of speaking to me in
    baby speech, and soon fell silent. Curious why she gave up so easily, I
    probed her mind.
    	Like the twisted man, this one also derived pleasure from her
    job. She expected the boys that came through here to fight, to yell, to
    struggle, and she enjoyed treating them as children. I had been silent,
    however, and only glared at her coldly as she went about her work. She
    took no pleasure from it; indeed, she found my appearance to be
    frightfully disturbing (hence the sleeper, I suppose; the less she saw
    of me, she thought, the better). 	She soon grew angry; angry at the
    twisted man for summoning her, angry at the other 'nannies' for not
    being in her place, but most of all, angry at me, because I wouldn't
    fight, I wouldn't protest, and I wouldn't act like every other boy who
    came through here, damn it!
    	I silently laughed at her. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to
    hate, and hate leads to the Dark Side, after all. She would have made
    an excellent Sith. Too bad I would have to kill her for crossing me.
    	When she was done, she roughly pushed a pacifier in my mouth. I
    didn't resist; to do so would give her pleasure, and I was only too
    happy to make her even more frustrated than she already was.
    	She picked me up, and before long we had reached the 'nursery'.
    She stopped outside the door and told me curtly that my new name was
    going to be Bobby. I can only assume that that was because of the
    'Robert' part of my falsified name. When we entered, another one of the
    nannies cheerfully greeted us.
    	"How nice to see you, Mrs. Ratchet. Oooh, and what's this little
    one's name?"
    	Mrs. Ratchet, however, didn't seem to be in the mood for
    pleasantries. "His name is Bobby," she said shortly, "and I'm late for
    an appointment as it is." A lie, of course, but she had very quickly
    grown an intense dislike for me.
    	 I was passed on to this new woman, who, after a moment of
    pondering Mrs. Ratchets odd behavior, proceeded to carry me into the
    middle of the room. Perhaps they wanted me to feel surrounded by
    infantile behavior, as if that would make the process happen faster.
    Perhaps they thought it would unnerve me, making me easier to break.
    Unfortunately for them, they could not feel the Force as I did; beneath
    the surface, there was the Dark Side.

    Ch 2

    	It was so strong I didn't even need to concentrate to feel it. It
    was not the building, as some locations are inherently Dark or Light.
    It wasn't the nannies, though they were twisted enough to at least
    contribute to it. It was the children. At the base of every single
    mind, no matter how cuddly, or playful, or peaceful, slept the dark
    nature of a Sith Master. Though their memories were fragmented, and
    their identity, erased, the Dark Side burned strong within each and
    every one of them.
    	At that point, I thought I had figured out how the decoding
    process worked. Their Sith natures, their prideful, hateful natures,
    couldn't stand being treated with so much love and kindness. They
    couldn't stand being treated as invalids, as if they were weak. They
    couldn't stand unconsciously feeling all of the darkness around them,
    the sleeping minds of their Sith fellows, but seeing nothing. And so,
    they slept, until it was safe for them to wake up again. I was amazed
    that such an unstable situation could last for so long. The identity
    built on top of it was little more than a thin varnish, and all of it
    could be stripped away if the old nature took control again.
    	I began to examine their minds individually, to see if my theory
    was correct. After going through about twenty of them, I found that it
    was, for the most part. There was an occasional non-Sith child who had
    simply broke under the constant pressure, but almost all of them were
    of the Dark Side.
    	I decided to test one of them, to see how easily they could be
    changed back. The one in front of me would do. I reached out and
    touched his shoulder, to better establish the connection. I paused for
    a moment; then, slowly, carefully, I transferred some of my Dark Side
    energies to him.
    	He reacted almost instantly. Outwardly, he looked like he was
    simply crying for one of the nannies (not an uncommon event; every few
    seconds, one of the children in the room would start howling, and a
    nanny would come to comfort them). Inside, however, I sensed a battle
    being waged. That little bit of the Dark Side was enough to wake the
    Sith in him, which was now battling for dominance. And winning.
    	I quickly withdrew the power. Now was not the time, and it could
    arouse suspicion among the faculty. Indeed, one of the nannies was
    already heading in our direction to comfort the Sith child.
    	"What's wrong, wittle baby-kins? Do you need your diapy-wipy
    changed, or a ba-ba?" The nanny asked as she picked him up.
    	She treated him so disgustingly that I had to speak up. "Would
    you so readily coddle a serpent," I queried, "or are you just too blind
    to see him for what he is?"
    	As I had expected, she was un-phased. "Oh, there's not a mean
    wittle bone in his wittle body! He's just a harmless little baby-kins."
    	"Fine. Maintain your delusions, it matters not. Do not expect
    others to be so ignorant, though."
    	I enjoyed watching her reaction. She would have loved to shock me
    (again, this one derived pleasure from her work), but could find no
    reason to. After all, I had made no threats, and had maintained a civil
    tone. Eventually, she just ignored my comment and continued to take
    care of the sleeping Sith.
    	After she left, I simply sat there, meditating. There was little
    else to do, in any case. Probing the other children's minds would bring
    me the same results, and all the nannies seemed to be cut from the same
    twisted cloth, as well. And don't even mention the baby toys strewn
    about the floor. I would kill everyone there in a blind fury before I
    reached that level of boredom, mission or no mission.
    	Ah, perhaps there is something to keep me occupied, I thought.
    With my expanded senses, I was able to 'feel' one of the children
    heading straight toward me. I probed his mind, and, to my surprise, he
    had the mentality and identity of a teenager. Somehow, he had resisted
    the system without any training. Perhaps his Sith nature, which was
    completely aware in this case, had something to do with it. Whatever
    the cause, I was impressed.
    	I allowed him to make the first move. He earned it, after all,
    for all the time he had spent here without breaking. "We have a new kid
    in the program, eh? Your name's Bobby, right? I'm James, or Jamie, if
    you go by what the nannies say."
    	I had been prepared for anger, or hate, or simply a cold
    callousness, but his cheerful demeanor caught me off guard. The Dark
    Side may manifest itself in many ways, I reminded myself. His actions
    may be kind, but his motives are entirely Sith.
    	"You know full well that 'Bobby' is the name they have inflicted
    upon me. I prefer to be called Morgoth, if you don't mind."
    	He smirked, unphased by my hostile mood. "Ah, touchy aren't we?
    Fine, I guess I can call you 'Morgoth' if you want, but sooner or later
    you'll start to accept 'Bobby,' just like you'll accept everything else
    they do to you."
    	"That is actually one of the things I wanted to ask; How is it
    that you have resisted the decoding process for so long, but all the
    others have succumbed to it?"
    	His jaw dropped, as if he suddenly saw me for what I was. I
    checked my skin to see if it had gone pale…no, my disguise was still in
    place. What had startled him?
    	He finally managed to speak. "How…How the hell do you know about
    decoding?"
    	Before I could answer, his collar began to shock him. I cursed
    myself for my carelessness, and received a shock myself. Of course, I
    thought, the new ones wouldn't know how the process worked, let alone
    what it's called! I waited for his shocks to stop, which took a
    surprisingly long time.
    	He recovered quickly from his shock, and was completely calm.
    Indeed, it didn't even seem to phase him. "Ok, how the heck do you know
    about decoding?"
    	I considered lying to him, but decided against it. After all, who
    would he tell? Even if they did believe him, the leaders of the
    establishment could do little to stop me. They could only force me to
    play my hand early.
    	"I am a Sith spy, in search of new recruits. I have been informed
    on the basics of the program, and have been sent her to gather more
    intelligence."
    	He stared at me for a moment, then grinned as if it were all a
    joke. "No, seriously, how did you know?"
    	"I am being serious," I said, becoming annoyed. "Tonight I will
    be contacting my superior to tell him what I have found. When my time
    here is finished, I will escape, kill the adults, and take the kids
    with me to a hidden Sith Academy, where they will be trained in the
    Dark Side."
    	"Come on, it's getting old. You don't really expect me to believe
    that you are a character from a movie? What, did Darth Vader teach you
    or something?"
    	I had to laugh at that. We had actually worked with the Jedi to
    make that movie, as a way to recruit more Force Sensitives. Though
    neither side was fond of the other, both agreed that the knowledge of
    the Force could die out completely if we had no one to follow after us.
    The movie was written in such a way that those who were inherently Jedi
    would be fascinated by Yoda or Obi-Wan, while those who were Sith would
    associate with the Emperor or Vader.
    	Still, I was getting nowhere. I decided to show him a more
    physical proof of who I was. "I have had many masters. One of them
    taught me the nature of pain, and how to master it. A demonstration,
    perhaps, is necessary: Fuck. Shit. Bastard. Cunt. Bitch." I felt the
    shocks, of course, but didn't react as he expected. Indeed, I didn't
    even twitch.
    	He looked amazed for a moment, but quickly regained his
    composure. "It…It must be malfunctioning. Don't let anyone know, it
    could be useful-"
    	He stopped abruptly, staring at my face. And with good reason. I
    had fed the Dark Side in me, fueling it with my emotions, until it was
    once more a roaring blaze of hate and anger. With its waxing, my
    appearance reverted to it's natural state. My irises turned back to
    amber, and the whites around them, pale yellow. My skin had lost all
    color, and was now the ashy gray of a drowned corpse. My veins, a
    moment ago almost healthy, once more began to flow with black
    corruption. It was pure bliss.
    	As good as it felt to 'stretch my legs,' I couldn't stay that way
    if I wanted to maintain my disguise. With regret, I forced the Dark
    Side to die down, to once more become a tiny ember. Before long, my
    facade was back in place, and I looked almost normal again.
    	While I had been enjoying the pleasant effects of the Dark Side,
    he had backed away as far as he discreetly could. Finally, he spoke.
    "What…what are you?"
    	 I laughed, in a way that sent chills up my own spine. "I already
    told you. I am Sith."

    Ch 3

    	"You're not joking, are you?"
    	"Why would I lie? Manipulating you would avail me little, as you
    have no influence here." I said, as if stating the obvious.
    	"I don't get it. You said you came here to recruit more Sith, but
    there are only the nannies and… well, them." he finished, gesturing
    towards the other children in the room with obvious contempt.
    	"Do not underestimate them," I cautioned. "Beneath every placid
    face and peaceful visage lies the makings of a Sith. You may not feel
    it, but I have been trained for such things."
    	He changed the subject. Speaking about the other children seemed
    to agitate him. "What else can you do? Can you shoot lightning, or
    choke people with your mind? Do you have a lightsaber?"
    	Most boys at his age have a fascination with violence, which is
    generally expressed with toy guns or minor fights. For him, it went
    much deeper than that. Though young still, the Sith in him was strong,
    a roaring bonfire of the Dark Side. I probed deeper, to see the source
    of his strength.
    	Ah, there it was. He hated them all; the police who had caught
    him, the judge who had sentenced him, the nannies who treated him as an
    infant. But most of all, he hated his parents, particularly his father,
    for allowing it.
    	For over a year, he had been expecting them to rescue him from
    this degrading torment, but that hope evaporated when they paid him a
    visit. Despite his protests, his threats, and eventually, his pleas,
    both his mother and father thought it would be best if he went through
    the process. His father in particular found his situation humorous, and
    said it would 'do him good,' for to be treated as he was supposedly
    acting; like a baby.
    	So this is how he managed to last so long, I thought. While the
    other Sith had grown cold and dormant, he had managed to feed the Dark
    Side with his hate. Every time he felt like it was just too much, as if
    giving in would be so much easier and less painful than resisting, he
    would just remember the smug look on his father's face, the
    condescending tone as he told his son that he deserved to be here. And
    so, the boy found the determination to go on. His will was stronger
    than I had suspected, almost rivaling my own. He would make a powerful
    Sith.
    	"…all right?"
    	I was so focused on his thoughts that I had paid no attention to
    his words. Berating myself for my carelessness, I pulled out of his
    mind.
    	"I'm afraid that my mind was wandering," I said, not wanting to
    lie but also not wanting to tell him what I was really doing. "What
    were you saying?"
    	"I was asking if you were all right," he said, eyeing me
    cautiously. "It looked like you just sort of fell asleep, but with your
    eyes open."
    	"It was nothing," I said, trying to dismiss the subject. "I just
    felt the Dark Side stirring in someone." Again, not lying, but not the
    complete truth either.
    	Fortunately, he was too curious about my powers to pursue the
    subject. "But seriously, what else can you do, besides make yourself
    look like a zombie?"
    	I decided to indulge him. He would be learning about these things
    in a few days anyway.
    	"As you have already guessed, the Force can be manifested as
    electricity and motion. Apart from that, there are also ways to drain
    the life from others, manipulate thermal energy (pyro- and cryo-kinesis
    ), and even postpone death, for a time. But these are the more physical
    abilities, and I prefer the area of mental manipulation."
    	"What, you mean like 'These aren't the droids you're looking
    for'?"
    	I grimaced in annoyance; that part of the movie was so
    unrealistic. That particular trick would have only worked for a few
    moments, and then the trooper would have realized what had happened.
    "Yes, though that is one of the more superficial methods. To see a more
    permanent effect, watch that greasy haired man when he is in the same
    room as me; with the tiniest nudge, he'll be absolutely petrified with
    fear."
    	"Who, Mr. McPherson? Oh man, I would love to see that!" The look
    of malicious glee on his face was entirely of the Dark Side. "But I'm
    not going to, am I?" His smile had evaporated, replaced by fear.
    "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
    	This genuinely puzzled me. "Now why would I kill you? You've done
    nothing to annoy me, and you have so far proven to be very
    enlightening."
    	"You said it yourself," he said, close to tears, "you're here to
    recruit new Sith, and I… I'm not like you!"
    	It took me a few moments to register what he said, and a few more
    to find my tongue. "I'm wasn't going to kill you, but if you start
    crying, I might. Besides," I continued in a somewhat kinder tone, "how
    can you possibly think that you are not Sith? I have felt the Dark Side
    within you; it burns fiercely, feeding on your hate, your sense of
    betrayal. Yes, I know about your parents," I explained, seeing the look
    of shock on his face, "how they left you here to be stripped away of
    your memories, of your very identity. How they left you here to die.
    Don't worry, you have every right to hate them, and one day, when you
    are strong enough, to kill them."
    	I had gone too far. Up until the very last part, he was
    enthralled by my words. "I… I would never want to kill my own parents!"
    he lied, somewhat hysterically. "I'm not that bad, I'm not as evil as,
    well, as evil as you!"
    	I decided that now was not the time to press the matter. "Good
    and evil, like all things in life, are relative to the person and
    situation. In the end it all comes down to survival, and you would be
    surprised how many 'good' people end the lives of others just to
    preserve their own. But if you are not ready to accept this basic
    truth, I will not force it on you. Besides," I said, lowering my voice,
    "we have company."
    	I was surprised, and somewhat disturbed, by how fluidly he
    reverted to his baby-like manner. Were I not telepathic, I would have
    had a hard time believing he was any different from the other children.
    	This nanny was, like all the others, annoyingly cheerful,
    disgustingly maternal, and completely corrupt. "Is wittle Bobby making
    fwends? Oh, that's so adorable!"
    	"Hardly." I said, not deigning to look at her. Instead, I gazed
    around the room at the other children. I paused, then continued.
    "They're all like this, aren't they? Every last one of them. Each of
    them mindless, each ignorant of who they were. I suppose you're going
    to try to do the same to me."
    	"Oh, such a clever little baby! Yes, we take in nasty little boys
    like you, and after a while, they turn into adorable little babies
    again."
    	I finally turned to look at her, with a twisted smile on my face
    and cold hatred in my eyes. "So I'm evil because I've killed others, am
    I? You think I deserve to be here, do you?" I let out a harsh cackle
    before continuing. "At least when I kill, I do it quickly, and leave
    their bodies for the birds. You, on the other hand, are a modern day
    Necromancer; you kill your victims slowly, over the course of several
    weeks. And, when their minds are finally gone, when their very identity
    is extinguished, you resurrect them for your own despicable purposes.
    If anyone deserves to go through this program, it's-"
    	I do hate being interrupted. Once again, she shocked me, and once
    again, I feigned torment. I was silent after that; the woman was
    already suspicious, and further conversation would make her wonder why
    a child would have such in depth knowledge on the program (I probed
    deeper). Indeed, she already had her doubts that the decoding process
    could really work on me. She felt that I may resist it like Johnny had…
    	That name was unfamiliar to me. I probed even deeper into her
    mind to see exactly who this 'Johnny' was.
    	Ah. It seems that the program could fail on ordinary children,
    after all. This boy, it seems, had tricked them into thinking he was
    decoded while he still maintained his teenage identity. When he
    progressed to the next stage of the program, he no longer had to wear a
    shock collar, and made his escape then.
    	But why didn't they bring him back? I thought to myself. They
    knew where he was, and the director of the program even knew about his
    escape plan, but did nothing to stop it. Unfortunately for me, the
    nanny had no answers, only more questions.
    	I stored the information on Johnny's whereabouts in my crystal
    implants. It was knowledge I could not afford to lose; he obviously had
    an incredibly strong will, and if he was like the majority of the
    children here, he would make a powerful Sith indeed.
    	The director was also a fascinating one. We knew very little
    about him, only that he was dangerously intelligent and well connected.
    We didn't even know his true name; if so, we would have tracked him
    down long ago and forced him to tell us all he knew. I wouldn't even
    have needed to be there; we could have simply broke down the doors,
    killed everyone with a coherent mind, then brought the decoded kids to-
    	Ah, finally, a gold nugget of information! It seemed the director
    regularly visited this place, though not in a predictable fashion.
    Indeed, he was so cautious that the only person he trusted with such
    knowledge was the twisted man. I had to meet with the director; doing
    so would undoubtedly give me all the information I needed. We could
    then proceed with the second step and take over the facility. I could
    finish my entire mission in one single night!
    	While I had been probing her mind, the nanny had reached the
    feeding area and had proceeded to nurse me from a bottle. Though
    annoying, it was a distraction only. After programming a crystal to
    perform the repetitive task, I continued prying and planning.
    	As much as I detested the twisted man, I had to get the
    information he had. But how to do it? He was not in regular contact
    with the children, and simply asking to meet with him would not only
    fail utterly, but would also arouse suspicion. Indeed, the only time
    that the children ever saw him was (I sifted deeper into her thoughts)
    when they did something so horrible that extra discipline was
    necessary.
    	What could I do that would merit such a visit? Without using my
    powers, it was unlikely I could do anything more than annoy the
    nannies. I considered attacking one of them, but dismissed the notion;
    they would start shocking me too quickly for me to do any harm, and
    that was probably too trivial to get me a meeting with Mr. Greasy Hair
    and Mustache. Then it came to me; I could attack one of the children
    instead. Not only would it be atrocious, it would also reinforce my
    facade as a Neo-Nazi, particularly if I did it to a Jewish child.
    	I was too focused on my plan to pay much attention to what the
    nanny was saying. It didn't matter, in any case; probably just more
    lies about how cute I supposedly looked. She soon finished, and placed
    me among the Sith children. I was ready to implement my plan.

    Ch 4
    	Before I could begin, however, a familiar face came into view. It
    was James. Checking to make sure that no nannies were watching, he
    crawled to me and grinned, "So, you had your first bottle. Well, your
    first bottle in years, at least. If you thought that was fun, wait till
    it comes out the other end."
    	"It hardly matters," I said coldly, "especially compared to what
    they will be doing to me shortly."
    	The grin faded from his face, and was replaced with a look of
    trepidation. "Oh man, what did you do?"
    	"It's not what I did, it's what I'm going to do. I need some
    information that only the twisted man has access to. And the only way
    to meet with him," I said, a malicious grin spreading across my face,
    "is to do something very, very naughty."
    	He looked half amused, half apprehensive. "What are you going to
    do? It's not like attacking one of the nannies will do you any good,
    they're too quick."
    	"The thought had crossed my mind," I said, "but no, that's not
    it. Besides, telling would ruin the surprise. It would probably be best
    if you left, for the time being."
    	For a few minutes, he make me divulge my plan to him. He
    eventually guessed that I would be attacking one of the other children,
    but I refused to tell him the details. He finally left, but only when I
    told him that the sooner he was gone, the sooner I could begin.
    	I was amused by his tenacity; he was like a child before
    Christmas, always trying to know what his toys are before he unwraps
    them. But instead of presents, he was excited about what kind of mayhem
    I would bring about. Truly, he was Sith
    	I could feel him watching me as I crawled over to one of the
    kids. I had chosen one of the non-Sith children, just in case I did any
    real damage; if he died, it would be no great loss. Before I was within
    range, the child had become aware of me. He stared blankly at me, not
    sure if I wanted to play with him or take his toys. I smiled
    reassuringly, and his face broke into a wide, childish grin. With his
    guard down, I was able to get closer without raising alarm. Still
    smiling, I pushed him onto his back and started chocking him with my
    bare hands.
    	He was trying to cry out, but only a feeble gurgle escaped his
    slightly blue lips. That was unfortunate; I didn't want to kill him,
    but it didn't seem that the nannies were taking any notice. I decided
    to loosen my grip, just enough for him to let out a strangled cry. A
    moment later, I heard a woman scream. I looked up, and saw no less than
    five nannies come rushing towards me.
    	Within seconds they had reached me, and were prying me fingers
    from the child's throat. One of them tried to speak over the now
    wailing teenager. "What on earth could have possibly made you choke
    this poor child!?"
    	I shrugged indifferently, or at least tried to; the nanny
    restraining me was holding me too tightly for me to do more than
    twitch. "Well, I see no cremators around, and there was no way for me
    to gas him, so my options were rather limited, don't you think?"
    	She grew even more horrified. "What on Earth are you talking
    about? Why did you attack him at all?
    	I sneered at her. "Don't toy with me. Do you really think I don't
    know a Jew when I see one?"
    	The statement rendered her speechless. Finally, after several
    seconds of silence (except for the wailing child, of course), she
    activated my shock collar.
    	She shocked me for longer than I thought could be legal. Even
    after I feigned unconsciousness, she continued out of pure spite.
    Finally, one of the other nannies spoke up. "As much as this little
    monster deserves it, I don't think the director would like you to
    permanently harm one of the children."
    	With obvious reluctance, the woman took her finger off the
    button. She then proceeded to carry my seemingly unconscious body out
    of the room and into the long hallway. Inside, I smiled; so far, my
    plan was working beautifully.
    	It took a surprisingly long time to reach the twisted man's
    office; if we went any farther, it seemed, we would have reached the
    back of the building. The hallway grew dimmer and less friendly as we
    went, until it was nothing more than a concrete tunnel with bare light
    bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The doors we passed no longer had
    ornate and childish labels, but instead bore simple number
    designations. I approved of the changes; though the hall was short and
    simple rather than high and imposing, and the light was a dim white
    rather than harsh red, and I was in rather different company, it felt
    as if I was once again inside the Sith Academy. Even the Dark Side felt
    stronger, somehow.
    	We eventually stopped in front of a door, which would have been
    indistinguishable if it didn't have an intercom built into the wall
    next to it.
    	The nanny pressed a button on the device. "Mr. McPherson? A child
    was misbehaving in the nursery, and we have brought him to you for
    discipline." Her tone was professional, but I could feel her intense
    satisfaction; she would finally get revenge on that 'freaky little
    boy'.
    	"Is that so? Well, which one is it?" His voice was as casual as
    hers was formal; indeed, he seemed bored by the news.
    	"Jacob, sir. Jacob Harrison."
    	There was a long pause. Finally, he stammered, "V-very well. Send
    him in."
    	He grew much calmer when he saw that I was 'unconscious'. That
    wouldn't do; a calm mind could think much more clearly than an agitated
    one, and I would need the upper hand in this. I checked to make sure
    that the command I gave him was still in place. It was; though buried
    and inactive, it would take little provocation to waken it.
    	One of the woman began to relate my 'misdeeds' to him while the
    other began strapping me into a chair. The twisted man listened to the
    first one in silence, growing more and more grave as she spoke. By the
    time she was finished, he was engulfed in a cold fury. Perhaps I
    wouldn't need to use my hidden command; he seemed very capable of
    blinding himself with emotion, and would need little help from me.
    	I decided it was time to 'wake up'. Slowly and with much
    groaning, I lifted my head and stared groggily about the room.
    "Huh…what… oh," I said, my eyes resting on the twisted man, "you
    again."
    	My apparent lack of fear seemed to incense him even more. "Yes,
    me again. You are by far the worst child I have ever-"
    	I didn't particularly care what he thought. I had a mission to
    complete. "Where's your boss, anyway?" I said, looking around the room
    as if he would be hiding in a corner. "I would really like to know who
    would hire a prick like you."
    	That did the trick. The mere mention of his boss brought all the
    information I needed to the forefront of his mind. It didn't take long
    to find out that the director's next visit would be on Saturday, at
    7:00 in the evening. Only four more days in this wretched place.
    	Of course, I still had to deal with my present situation. He
    spoke, carefully controlling his voice. "For your information, I was
    the only person in a group of highly skilled professionals to get be
    hired for this job. I have been working here longer than you have been
    alive. Now," he continued in a more businesslike manner, "do you know
    why you are here?"
    	I saw where this was going; first he would explain the severity
    of what I did, then he would try to make me feel guilty about it, and
    finally, after all that pointless lecturing, he would inform me on how
    I would be punished. I decided to skip the first two parts and proceed
    quickly through the third.
    	I smiled in mock innocence. "I assume it's because I was trying
    to cleanse this place of filth. But then again, I shouldn't be
    surprised that they let Jews in here. I mean, just look at you," my
    voice grew cold and menacing, "you do know what the Nazis do to gays,
    don't you?"
    	I had questioned his masculinity, and he reacted as I expected.
    His careful control vanished in an instant, replaced by blind rage. He
    balled his fists and advanced on me, and if one of the nurses hadn't
    interfered, he would have likely attempted to beat me to death. That
    would have compromised the mission; I had no intention of dying, but I
    could do little to prevent it without resorting to the Force.
    Fortunately, one of the nurses had put herself between us.
    	"Sir, the rules state that we cannot use violence for discipline,
    and even then, it must be administered by one of the nannies."
    	"I know what the rules are woman! But don't you think this…
    child… deserves more than that?!"
    	"I certainly do; but rules are rules, and other forms of
    discipline can be much more… effective."
    	She seemed to be hinting at something. He glared at her curiously
    for a moment, then smiled sadistically when he figured it out. He and
    leered evilly at me, and began to lecture me in his familiar
    condescending tone.
    	"My colleague is right, of course, and physical violence is not
    the answer. Indeed, your attack was just as futile and misguided; the
    boy you nearly killed wasn't even Jewish, and even if he was when he
    came here, he wouldn't be any longer. As for your assumptions about my
    preferences, I am not homosexual,-"
    	"Could've fooled me." I interrupted snidely.
    	He ignored my comment and continued. "-and dozens of satisfied
    women can attest to that. But I digress. For you, extreme measures are
    necessary. We will skip step one, I think, and instead proceed with
    steps two through…" he paused for a moment, thinking, "ten."
    	Outwardly, both nannies were appalled at his statement, and
    gasped in shock. One of them spoke up, "But that will drive him insane!
    No one has gone through all of them since the program started, and-
    	"I really couldn't care less," he said, halting her protests.
    "Besides, if it works, he will end up like the rest of them. If not,"
    he said, once more regarding me with contempt, "well, it will cost us
    nothing. Now, tonight I want you to proceed with step two. Tomorrow you
    will administer step three, and the next day step four, etcetera,
    etcetera. Understood?"
    	One of them was silent. "Yes?" he said, seeing her hesitation
    	"Um, sir, we can't do step two-"
    	"And why not?" he interrupted, clearly annoyed.
    	"Well, we can't shave him, he's already hairless." Inwardly, I
    laughed at that. I had no hair to speak of, not even an eyelash. I
    found it to be an inconvenience; the random cuts and burns caused by
    the Dark Side would heal much faster and cleaner if they weren't matted
    with hair.
    	He did not take that very well. "Very well," he said petulantly,
    "proceed with steps three through ten as directed."
    	I was curious as to what these steps were. Reluctant to sift
    through the dung heap that was the twisted man's mind, I instead
    focused on one of the nannies.
    	Ah. How lovely. All of the steps seemed to have been made to
    speed up the decoding process; each was more infantile and demeaning
    than the last. I ignored the third and fourth steps; during the course
    of each, I would be taken for a stroller ride through the nearby town
    (obviously, the residents were familiar with this program) and into a
    girl's Catholic School, but in the fourth I would also be a part of
    their class lesson, which usually involved childcare. The fifth was
    likewise inconsequential; they would be making a video of me supposedly
    enjoying my baby treatment, which would be showed if front of that
    school. They would be hard pressed to find the material for it; I had
    not smiled once since I was sent there, and usually glared darkly at
    anyone who tried to speak to me. The sixth one, however, could prove
    problematic. I would be injected with various enzymes that were
    supposed to, well, arouse me, which they hoped would lead to me
    pleasuring myself. I doubted it woul!
     d work; even if those particular organs were still functional, I could
    simply metabolize the injected proteins into their basic amino acids.
    The problem was, the nannies could get curious as to why their
    punishment didn't work. I decided not to wouldn't worry about it; it
    would be Saturday by then, and too late for them to stop me. My plans
    would continue, but they would not.

    notes: Please note; I am not the author of the original "Cody and the
    Baby Start over program". I am writing a sequel to in in which the
    program is destroyed, as the last one had an unsatisfactory ending.
    Also, I have taken several 'artistic liberties' in relation to the
    Force and the Jedi/Sith, and am probably inconsistent with the books
    and movies on several accounts.