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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Ankh-Morpork Guard" data-source="post: 3628758" data-attributes="member: 10079">Chapter 486: Course CorrectionTo be truthful, Venda had seen much more uncomfortable send offs. She attributed Marix’s cold demeanor to the events of the day. Of course, Venda had been around the Alraxian woman long enough that she should have known better, but for whatever reason she was trying to think positive. It was something that she’d always considered a good thing, despite how much it annoyed some people.    The ancient transport was in hyperspace now, beyond the Gateway and on a direct course for Yavin. She probably should have gone to Coruscant and reported directly to the Jedi Masters there. Yavin was just an Academy, but it was also much closer to the Alraxian space. She had originally been sent by Master Skywalker to look into the information about the Hutts and the Vong, and to try and find a direct contact with the Peace Brigade, as they were becoming more openly violent against Jedi in the recent weeks.    Technically, she hadn’t done much of a job with any of that. Before being trained as a Jedi, Venda had worked for one of the many galactic news networks. She was good at tracking down information because of that, but dealing with willing participants and dealing with Hutts were different things altogether. To her credit, she had followed a fairly loose trail all the way to Ryloth, hopping from transport to transport across the galaxy on the way. But then Venda had run into Marix and other things had gotten in the way.     At least she had information on the Hutt deal with the Vong now, thanks to Marix. There had been Peace Brigade information, too, but nothing she didn’t already know.  Ever since Ithor had fallen and the defeat blamed on the Jedi Corran Horn, the galaxy had been turning against the entire Jedi Order. In that wonderful atmosphere, the Peace Brigade grew quickly from its tiny beginnings, and now was able to operate openly on a disturbing amount of planets.    The Peace Brigade were worse than the Vong. Playing to people’s fears and then pointing the finger at an easy target, the Jedi, just because they were there. The failing public opinion also meant that the New Republic, itself, was weary of the Jedi. While it seemed like many amongst the military still stood by them, the government didn’t. It was one thing to have a group of traitors blaming the Jedi for the war and the failures, but the New Republic’s higher ups joining in did nothing to help.    Letting out a long sigh, Venda reached up and let her hair down. It was only just beyond shoulder length, but she had learned early on in the training exercises that keeping it out of her face was a good idea. It was hard to stay alive without being able to see clearly. The thought made her looked down at her wrists. Perfectly healed. In fact, there wasn’t a scratch on her that hadn’t been there before she’d come to Alraxia.    What was she going to tell people?    Though it hadn’t been said, Venda knew she couldn’t say a thing about the Alraxians. It would be betraying a rather flimsy trust to do that. Thinking about it, though, it was only an extra two or so days. It wouldn’t be too hard to just attribute that to traveling time elsewhere. The ship could be explained away, and she couldn’t think of anything that would raise questions.    Suddenly remembering something that had slipped her mind, Venda dug in her pocket to retrieve the small datacard the Jendari had given her. It wouldn’t raise questions because it was just a normal datacard, but that, in itself, was a question for her. She’d seen no technology from the Alraxians or the Jendari that were similar to what she was used to. Obviously, a great deal of it served the same functions, but it was all different...Venda hadn’t seen a single datapad.    As she was thinking about that odd fact, Venda checked over the cramped cockpit around her for some kind of place to insert the thing, as she didn’t have a datapad on her. Surely the ship wasn’t so old it didn’t have something...Ah ha!    Venda had to shift into the co-pilots chair, which was, oddly enough, behind the pilot’s chair instead of beside it, but she found a section of the terminal that seemed to be what she was looking for. Sliding the card in, Venda looked down at the small screen and waited for the information to appear.    The screen blinked to life, a soothing light blue glow appearing, then displayed a series of numbers.    At first, Venda simply checked to see what all was on the datapad, but she immediately found that it was almost completely devoid of information. All that seemed to be on it were the numbers. That annoyed her, as she was never good at figuring out things like that. Either it was obvious and just beyond her, or it was some kind of code and Venda wasn’t going to get it.    For some reason, Venda decided to run the number sequence through the ship’s computer.    As it was working that out, she sat back and attempted to meditate. But a beeping from the computer just moments later forced Venda to open her eyes and look back to the screen. She hadn’t expected to find anything at all. But just a few seconds and it had found something?    There was an image on the screen now. It was a generic looking planet that could have been any one of millions among the galaxy.  Next to the image was the series of numbers again, and then text that read ‘Fondor.’    Coordinates? The Jendari had given her a datacard with the coordinates of Fondor? Nothing about that seemed to make sense.    Yet...    Switching over to the pilot’s chair again, Venda checked the consoles for a moment before pulling the hyperspace levers back. The stars returned again, and Venda immediately found herself setting a new course and adjusting the transport’s vector. In a matter of moments, she was on the way to Fondor.    What was another delay in reporting back? Besides, the Jendari had given her that for a reason and there was something about it...Venda could feel the Force pushing at her to be there, too. Something important was going to happen. With the way it felt, though, Venda couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t going to be good.</blockquote>

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