Geode’s ominous silence told the whole story. Something was genuinely wrong with hyperspace traffic. Deeply wrong. The few traffic patterns he could make out were moving in directions that didn’t make any sense.

Leox muttered. “Not liking this. Not liking it at all.”

The ship was still moving forward, under no more than the usual stresses, so they might as well keep going. The problem might be local, he figured—something they’d fly right by.

Orla Jareni hoped to spend at least part of their voyage to Starlight Beacon talking with the Vessel’s crew. She’d be buying a ship of her own soon, something she’d never done before. As much as she’d studied specs and models, she still thought there might be valuable tips to glean from people who spent their whole lives navigating the stars.

(Some Jedi fell into the trap of thinking that non-Jedi didn’t have anything to teach them. Orla, however, always remembered that every single being in the galaxy knew at least one thing she didn’t.)

Affie Hollow seemed the likelier candidate for the conversation, Orla decided, if only because Affie seemed to have a greater commitment to sobriety.

Yet Orla found herself putting off the chat. Actually talking about purchasing her ship would mean talking about her decision to become a Wayseeker. As little as Affie knew about the Jedi, she would surely ask the most obvious question: Why?

At the moment, Orla didn’t feel confident of her answer.

She could simply say instinct. That was true, but unlikely to satisfy Affie’s curiosity. It was more likely to pique it.

Or she might say, The Jedi Order and I no longer…see eye to eye.

Also true. Also likely to get her into trouble if anybody from the Council ever heard of it.

Probably the best answer would be, I needed to come to know the Force in a deeper, even more meaningful sense. Also true, and both long and dull enough to discourage further questions.

Wayseeker, her mind had whispered, and there she was: Walking away from the Order to navigate an unknown region of the galaxy all by herself. Hoping that out there she would find the purpose her recent missions had lacked.

“Am I deluding myself?” she muttered as she stood in the mess, making herself some Chandrilan tea. “If I can’t find the answers at the Temple, what makes me think I’ll find them out here? What would my master say if she could see me?”

Then she paused, hoping no one had overheard that. Probably not, but on a ship so small, you could never be certain. She resolved to keep her musings internal for the duration of the voyage.

Orla took a moment to center herself—but found she couldn’t. The energies on the ship were becoming muddled. Even frenzied.

Orla murmured, “What’s happening?”