The old man moved through the ancient fortress, his brown and cream coloured robes swishing around his ankles and an old ornate metal staff clacking against the worn stone.  He moved deliberately, silver eyes scanning the walls, the ceiling, the floor, even the very mortar between the ancient stones.  Each resonating ring of his etched metal staff upon the stones serving almost like echolocation for some keen otherworldly sense.

Finally he came into a wide open expanse, the motley collection of starships tucked away inside what was originally some sort of great gathering place for those that once called this home and led into the twisting collection of tunnels beneath the tower.  The place was already full to bursting and the odd assortment of ships reached out even into the exterior of the complex where they were set upon by the elements.  

The ships were a striking metaphor to the old man who stroked his long white beard and equally long moustaches, patting them down against his dark brown robes.  Each of those that had arrived were as different as the strange assortment of ships before him.  Some of them used solar sails, some ion engines, others still used means of propulsion he did not understand.  So it was with the people here that used the force.

It was here he spied a young woman cleaning her weapons and he stopped clicking his staff upon the cobble so that he could approach softly on his skippered feet and not disturb her.  He could feel her connection to the force, tenuous, unsteady.  She wasn't quite yet one with the force.  She was a young woman with chestnut hair, a soft pale complexion and a small frail looking physique but there was something to her demeanour, a gentle strength that said she was willing to do whatever it took to accomplish her goals.  He considered reaching out with the force to get a better sense of her inner being but some of those here considered such a thing rude.

"Greetings child," he said simply, as he approached for he deemed it rather unwise to sneak up on those cleaning or bearing weapons.

"Hello," the young woman said cautiously, her eyes skirting the entire area and not just the old man as if seeking hidden accomplices, "Who are you?"

The old man bowed, staff held crossways across his chest so as to ensure it wouldn't be mistaken as being combative.  He then straightened and petted his long white beard flat again across his torso.

"My name is Raksha of the Jedi," he introduced himself, neglecting to include is title or anything else, "I like the others am a refugee of the devastation that has befallen all our kind, Jedi and others."

"Sahren," she introduced herself, not uttering any other affectation before continuing with a small quip, "Just along for the ride."

Going back to cleaning her strange looking blaster the old man, Raksha, watched her for some moments cleaning her strange looking blaster while noting the other slung low on her hip in a classic speed draw holster.  Being patient the old Echani just watched her for several long minutes.

"You planning on taking a holo-pic?" Sahren finally said.

"No.  I am merely wondering why you are still here and why you are not attending the ceremonies belonging to the others."

"Not my place I figure.  I'm not one of these groups.  I don't really have a master to teach me.  Don't really need one."

"What is the minimum number of people required to be a group: seven, thirty five, nine or maybe three?"

"I don't know but I think it's more than one.  I mean, it's a plural, after all"

The old man nodded, as if this was the expected answer.  He stroked his beard and looked back at her.

"and yet in mathematics we have groups of one and even of zero.  These things are just words.  Words are the tools of men to quantify, deceive and discriminate.  All life is equal in the eyes of the force."

"So you're effectively saying I should be representative on this council of theirs since I'm the only member of my order?"

The old Echani coughed and flicked his long white bear up into the air, giving himself an excuse to smooth it out again and chuckled.

"I would agree to this but while we may all be equal in the eyes of the force the council's eyes, any council, are very human."

"Well, the others all have mentors, and the entire thing is some rite of passage, proving to their masters that they are ready to go out and do... whatever it is you people do."

"Yes, a rite based on combat," Raksha replied, "The way of the Jedi is one of peace.  Something the order has long since forgotten.  It disturbs me that so much attention should be paid to these trials but these are dark times.  In times past a Jedi's strength lay not in his lightsaber but in his mind and his ties to the force.  I can sense much violence on you already child and I suspect you are ready for such eventualities.  You would likely pass whatever trials put before you."

"Oh no.  They'd probably put me up against another one of you, either a Jedi, Ginsu-guy or even that super wookie.  The first thing my captain taught me was run from anyone waving around a glowstick.  There's never any profit in dealing with Jedi."

Raksha chuckled.  "There is wisdom in that statement.  I would not presume to debate him."

"So that it," she added, returning to polishing her weapon that she'd forgotten, "You just came down here to ask me to play in your little arena games?"

"To be precise my child, I am here because the Force brought me to you.  I do not know why.  I only know that I trust the force and that the why of my being brought to you will reveal itself in time."

"It... led you to me?" Sahren replied cynically, "Look glowstick.  If you were any younger I'd respect you for the come-on line but seriously, the force pointed me out?"

"No.  The force does not work that way.  You may direct your senses towards a goal, a course of action, or another simple concept and the force may give you an indication in response.  I merely opened myself to the force and let it take me where it wished to go."

"You can do that?"

"I will not lie to you," he replied, "The last is not easy.  It requires one to shed themselves of desire, of connections to others.  Even the most fleeting desire for anything can interfere with such a request."

"Can you teach me to do that?" Sahren asked, "My mentor, the man who trained me, he was focused on-"

Sahren set aside her larger weapon and pulled out the shapely blaster pistol on her side, the black and gold weapon spun easily in her hands, becoming a blur as it moved back and forth dancing in her hands, pointing first in one direction, then beneath her shoulder as if firing behind her and then again spinning about her finger as she displayed a dazzling display of manual dexterity.

"-how to use a blaster, not on the feeling stuff.  I mean, I can feel where someone is in a fight, especially if someone turns the lights out on me but what you're talking about is something else like getting bad vibes from people.  I get them sometimes but only sometimes."

"Ah... yes," Raksha said as he nodded, "I can definitely help with such things.  You should also learn what you can from your fellow apprentices.  There is much you can learn and not from just Jedi.  After all, if we knew all there was to know of the force then how did my brothers and I fall?"

"In other words," she reiterated in her own fashion, "maybe I should get off my ass and meet some of the others?"

"I would not be so terse but yes my child.  You should attend the ceremony above.  Even if it does not mean anything to you it means much to those who may be your colleagues in the future."

"Okay," she said, rising up from her seat, slamming two plasma cartridges into the caster in her hands,  "but I'm not calling you Master Raksha.  Deal?"

"My child we are all but students in the ways of the force.  There are no masters."