((These are NPC's from Courasaunt, not actual characters I'll constantly use))
Maxster sat in his room on his hovering pad of a bed, face in hands, crying, the tears strolling down his arms and onto the floor. "You may cry, but they Lord will always wipe your tears away." The words echoed through his mind. They were the words Ravion had said to him when he had found that his parants had been slaughtered by merchanarys they were after. The old days, when exiling himself to the world to be a Jedi in the darkest places was still only a dream, and when he and Ravion were friends that had crossed paths, that had been inseperable.
"Hm. It's funny, Ravion. He wipes your tears when you want them to fall, because he knows it's better for them not to fall and for them to stop than for them to continue sometimes, even when it seems easiest. But being a Jedi isn't easy, is it, Ravion?" The tears had stopped. He looked to the floor, going to wipe them away himself, evaporate them with the Force, but they were gone. The floors could desipher liquids on the floor. If they were something important, they left them alone. But tears must not have seemed so important to the architects of the New Jedi Order.
A ringing told him his comlink was receiving a transmission. Getting up and moving towards his dresser, he picked it up slowly, turning it on, and answering. But the person had stopped trying just before he'd answered. He set it down. Almost imidiately, it rang again. He answered quickly this time. "Hello? This is Maxster."
"Master Maxster--," Maxster hated to be called that, but he indulged it," we have secured the new rout between the two Temples, as you ordered, sir."
"Who am I speaking to, may I ask?"
"Co-Captain and Jedi Knight Bartholemuw Bache." the Jedi said a little two proudly.
"Bache... aww, I remember you. Won so many championships for sparing and piloting races, did you not?"
"Yes, sir." the Knight replied.
"A little too proud, if I remember correctly, Co-Captain." There was a silence, thought Maxster heared him gasp a few times. "At ease, Bache. Only a joke. But if I do remember correctly, I put Captain Mannaseeh on the job as well. In charge of regulations and the... sociality and supervision of the two Temples?"
"Yes, sir." he repeated, a little disapointed. Maxster sensed that he'd actually wanted the job, maybe felt that he was either unimportant or under-superior to be assigned a smaller task... just a guess.
"Now, Co-Captain. Think a second. Without securing the hyperspace rout with your men, creating it in the first place, and commanding your men the way you have in both technology and piloting, there would be no reason to have regulations or any supervision of progress and status, would there?"
"No, sir." Bache said, more enthusiastic, as if the comment was a new thing to him and had made his day.
"Good. Now, could you patch me through to him, please?"
"Yes, sir." But the voice was that of Mannaseeh, not Bache, this time. Bartholemuw may be proud, but he was smart and sufficient. A grand Jedi Master in time, with a little more maturing and discipline.
"Mannaseeh, how go the operations in Courasaunt?"
"Maxster! How are you, too? See any good holos lately? Maybe a good Smuggler Sandwich, hm?"
Maxster couldn't help but laugh. This is why he trusted Mannaseeh so much. A Jedi with a good sense of humor, but a knack for keeping on top of things."I'm good, Mannaseeh. No, the confiscated mine when I came. They almost got my jerky too, but I beat them off of it. And none so good as the one at Sephen's on Courasaunt, I must say. Now, Courasaunt. How are the operations?"
"They're phenominal, cheif. We're almost done. We're planning on finishing the last touches... day after tomorrow, my schedual reads. Then we can celebrate. I've got some Kashyyk Ale left. Rare stuff that junk is. And we've got some Onderon Fireworks and the natives who can work them to boot. Going to be a great night."
"I hope so. How about the turn outs? Have many Force-Sensetives been found?"
"Eh... cheif, you hit me in the hard spot, if you get my meaning. It's just... well, we've found hundreds with our scouts on other planets, but... well, only a hopefull handfull have actually turned out or sent by their parents, but all of them are younger than 13. The oldest guy we've got... Jeremy, from Serrecco. 12. Turns thirteen in a few mounths. The next is 11, then the rest are under 8."
That disapointed Maxster. He'd expected people from all over to want to swarm them. But he realized that things with the Jedi weren't the best they could be. They had promised complete peace, but with ONE temple to bring out Jedi into the new world and distribute them across known space, it was impossible. And people resented them for it. And some planets even still held scars from the Empire and Dark Jedi even before it's rise. Such deep veins in planets were hard to fill up or roll out.
"Well, I'll be there. Bring them all into the temple as soon as possible and start training imidiately."
"Yes, sir... sir, may I ask, you seem a little... tense?"
"Yes, I am tense, Captain. Ravion has left us. Probably from known space itself. And I don't think he'll be coming back. And if he does, it'll be too long to count on."
"Ravion's... left us."
"Yes, Captain. But Kaimelar is Grand Master now."
"Kai? Dang, I haven't seen her in ages. Not since I last came to the temple... years ago."
"Hmmm... you're dismissed, Captain. Send my greetings to the Temple and the Jedi there."
"Yes, sir." With that, the transmition ended, and he was back to himself again.