"Morning, George."
The man in the flannel shirt looked up at his visitor's greeting, grateful for the interruption. "Steve!" he called, smiling broadly. "Glad you're back. Did you have a good trip?"
The visitor walked into the large, comfortable office that had become so familiar to him over the years. "As good as ever. Nice to be back, though," the visitor said as he smiled and shook his friend's offered hand
"So..." the flannelled one began uncertainly. "How are things at home?" He was afraid he already knew the answer.
"This is home now, really," the visitor replied with the barest trace of sadness.
"My ranch?" the flannelled one asked with a twinkle in his eye. This was an old conversation, and an old dodge his visitor used to try to avoid it.
"You know what I mean," the visitor responded with a patient smile. His eyes moved to the large picture window behind his friend for a long, contemplative moment before he returned reluctantly to the subject at hand. "But to answer your question, things back there are a mess. Nothing's changed in the last forty years. The Senate is too busy with infighting to accomplish anything meaningful, and there are a dozen disputes threatening to break out into war. They're asking for another Naboo all over again."
The man in the flannel shirt frowned deeply. "Do you really think it's that bad?"
"It could be," the visitor admitted. "If another Palpatine came along right now much could be lost. There aren't enough Jedi yet."
"It only took one last time," the flannelled one reminded his visitor with a smile. "Besides, I doubt there's really anything to worry about. The Sith died with Vader."
"We thought they were extinct before Maul," the visitor replied softly. "The Sith aren't the only danger."
"True," the flannelled one reluctantly conceded.
"And I made my choice years ago, to leave that place to the care of others. It's Earth I'm concerned with now."
"There are Jedi here on Earth, though," the flannelled one said in what he knew was a vain attempt to set his friend's mind at ease.
"But most of them have no idea. Thanks to you they think Jedi are a myth."
"I only told the story you told me, you know." This was another old conversation, and not as much fun as the earlier one.
"I know. I don't mean that as an indictment." The visitor sighed. "Without you most of them would know nothing of Jedi at all."
"There are two that do know the truth, though." Another attempt to help. Even more futile.
"Yes. . . Boyd and Cochran. SACUL's been complaining about them for months now. They're both far too careless."
"Yes, but it's lucky for you they were in Atlanta."
"There's no such thing as luck," the vistor answered automatically. Then the scene from Atlanta played itself over in his mind again. People running, pushing and shoving. The two young Jedi in the middle of it all, not just fighting, but protecting. He'd only needed to add a little push here and a small tug there. "But you're right, it was fortunate," he admitted.
"You know what they need, don't you? A true master. Someone who can teach them the right way." The man in flannel looked at his friend expectantly.
"Then they should go to Yavin. I haven't trained an apprentice in nearly sixty years. I'm too old and out of practice, and they're too old to be trained, at least by me. Anakin's boy and his people do that sort of thing all the time. In my time we wouldn't have dreamed of it."
It cost the flannelled one a real effort to keep from throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. How many of these old conversations were there, laying around like land mines? "Still hanging on to the old ways, huh? The old Code?"
"The Code existed because it worked. It was developed over a thousand years, and served the Order for many times that." And that, as far as he was concerned, was that.
"But you abandoned it when you settled here," the flannelled one pointed out with the frustration finally creeping into his voice.
"We didn't have a choice at the time."
"No, I don't guess you did," admitted the flannelled one.
"Anyway, speaking of those new Jedi, I hear they're out in the field again. I think I'll go check in with SACUL and see how they're doing this time." He started to leave, but remembered something he'd almost forgotten in the discussion of less pleasant subjects. "By the way, how's the movie coming?"
The flannelled one smiled broadly, always happy to talk about his favorite subject. "Great! I think it'll be the best one yet," he said with pride.
"Cool!" his visitor replied with a matching smile. "I'll have to see the rough cut soon. Talk to you later, George."
"See you, Steve."