Author's Note: This is my imagining of what KOTOR 3 would be like, based off of Chris Avellone's description and some educated guessing instead of the canonical bullshit from the Revan book. It starts right where KOTOR 2 leaves off.

It exists in the same universe as my other KOTOR fics, so read those for backstory if you like but it's not necessary. "Agent Vao's Vacation" happens immediately before the events of this first chapter and is kinda a set-up, so maybe check that one out at least. A quick universe recap:

Timeline (based on a conversation with Bastila in K1):

5 years before K1 - Revan and Jedi get involved in the Mandalorian Wars

2.5 years before K1 - Mandalorian Wars ends, Malak and Revan become Sith

5 years after K1 - K2

Characters:

LSF Revan - born Selena Shan, known as Quesa Kentavar during KOTOR 1. Bastila's older sister, married to Carth.

LSF Exile - I decided to go with the canonical name Meetra Surik in another fic so I'll stick with it. Officially unromanced but there's a hint of something with Brianna/Handmaiden, and a lot of angsty unresolved passion with Atris.

Although they're both technically light-sided, both Revan and the Exile identify closer to Gray Jedi beliefs, a la Jolee/Kreia.

This will mostly be from the Exile's POV but occasionally I'll switch it up. Enjoy!

"Yeesh, rough flight, huh? And I thought you were a bad pilot, Carth."

After a four year hiatus, Mission had finally reunited with the vessel she once called home, though it had seen fairer days. The exterior scratches and dents the Ebon Hawk received from crash-landing on the planet near the Star Forge looked homey compared to the battering she took since. Parts of the hull were literally crushed and barely holding together. If her outside suffered so much, Mission figured the internal systems had to be damaged. Uh oh.

Smoke billowed from the interior as the loading ramp lowered a path out of the ship. "That's promising," Bastila uttered wryly through her teeth. As the smoke fogged around the ship's entrance, sounds of approaching coughing and wheezing were heard. A motley group of humans and aliens dashed out of the Ebon Hawk to catch their breath.

"Are you alright?" Bastila asked out of a sense of duty rather than full-hearted concern. Mission could tell that she cared less than she ought to because her eyes were fixed upon the Ebon Hawk, as were Carth's, and inevitably only one thing filled their minds: the state of the navicomputer.

"Fine, thanks," an armored Zabrak stated, after dutifully inspecting the other members of his crew. "I wish I could say the same for the ship."

Mission strode towards him. "You the pilot, buddy? I'd get a refund from flight school."

"I'm the pilot, and given the circumstances, it's a miracle any of us survived at all." The speaker was a well-built human, a guy Mission supposed would be considered handsome if not for the defensive sneer.

Carth impatiently snapped, "But the ship, is it alright, can it be salvaged?"

"Do you care to explain why we were summoned back here? If it was only for you to fret about my ship, at least let me have the privilege of a shitty, private apartment so I can be alone." Another human, a woman, barked these words. Although she looked like the Jedi all of the Citadel Station buzzed about, nothing in her current manner matched the collected serenity of the Jedi Mission had met. Utter loss somehow wrinkled her lineless face and pain radiated from her like desert heat. The aura she emitted was somewhat familiar. Her despair was comparable, if even greater than, when Quesa revealed that she had once been Darth Revan.

Lieutenant Grenn let out an exasperated exhale. "We'll give you the best we can manage."

"Then I'll be on my way." The Jedi stalked towards the airlock.

Bastila called out to her, "Wait!" She stopped and spun around half-heartedly. "I swear this is of the upmost importance." She held out a hand as she approached the bitter Jedi. They didn't shake. "I am Bastila Shan, if you don't remember. It's been years since we've seen each other. With me are Agent Mission Vao from Republic Intelligence and Admiral Carth Onasi, whom you met. Mission, this is the exiled Jedi, Meetra Surik."

"I'm not a Jedi," she clarified. Remembering her manners, she added to Mission, "It's nice to meet you."

"You too."

"What is this about?" Meetra wearily inquired.

Carth explained, "It's about Revan. We have reason to believe she's in danger."

"Yeah? She's been out of known space for four years, so I think she can handle herself."

Bastila grabbed her arm as Meetra tried to walk away again. "Please, this is more than just some intuitive dread. Selena and I are bonded by the Force; I know something is wrong."

"Sorry, but I've had enough of Force bonds." There was an icy hollowness in her voice.

"Then I won't ask anything of you than a chance to examine the Ebon Hawk. We need to find out where she went."

"So this is about the ship."

A Mandalorian in full unique armor strode approached them from the cluster of crew members. A familiar, gravelly voice interjected, "Revan swore she'd return when she finished her business, and gave us tasks to keep the galaxy strong in her absence. You three would be the types to try to rescue her from the unknown."

The Republic Admiral stiffened his posture. "Canderous. You're..."

"The new Mandalore." Mission grinned; she would've never guessed that her vacation would've provided so many reunions. Canderous never got along too well with Carth and Bastila, but he always respected Mission's resourcefulness and accomplishments. At first she distrusted the Mandalorian, until he taught her how to shoot heavy blasters on Dantooine and they bonded over Pazaak and stories of war. Their friendship only strengthened since. "I've returned the Mandalorians to some of their former strength. You two need to focus on the Republic and the Jedi Order."

"Now that your crew eliminated the immediate Sith threat, we are no longer needed," Bastila retorted, placing a hand on her hip just like she would during her spoiled Jedi princess phase. "Whatever evil has been behind all these wars has a hold of Selena and I will not allow all of the galaxy's suffering to have been in vain."

"Everyone suffers and everyone dies. That doesn't mean their actions were in vain."

With more heat than the Jedi used to portray, she snapped, "I refuse to argue with you, Canderous." After a calming breath, she asked Meetra, "May we examine the navicomputer?"

The weary woman capitulated. "Have at it. It's voice-locked and we haven't been able to access anything, but you can try."

"Voice-locked?" Carth repeated.

"By Selena?" Bastila wondered.

Meetra shrugged. "I guess. It's been the last thing on my mind. Listen, I need to go. There's something I have to take care of. Brianna?" she called timidly. An Echani girl in white robes approached the exile and nuzzled against her. "Lieutenant!" Grenn shifted his curious focus. "I need a shuttle."

The Exile and the Echani and the Lieutenant opened the airlock door and exited the docking bay. There was no noise minus the hum of traffic beyond them. Bastila shattered the silence by stating, "A machine is only a machine. If it can be tampered with, it can be un-tampered with. Are you up for the task, Mission?"

Her shrug was so high her lekku brushed against her face. "Normally, yeah. But Quesa was good with computers too, and if she really wanted us to stay out it'll be tough."

"We have to try," Carth muttered. He began walking towards the ship. "She would do the same for us."

Smoke still fogged the interior of the Ebon Hawk. The once-familiar ship was now some battered ghost to Mission. After a dainty cough, Bastila extended her hand and the smoke started to roll down the exit ramp. Some Force trick. When the ship was cleared, Bastila and Carth headed towards the cockpit, but Mission noticed that the source of the smoke was probably coming from the hyperdrive. She jogged into the engine room and found a little T3 droid diligently attempting to cool the overheated hyperdrive by dousing it with CryoBan.

"Hey, little guy. Need some help?"

The T3 droid spun around. "Dwooooooo." When he saw Mission, his blue photoreceptor glowed brightly and he started whirring and whistling jovially.

Carth and Bastila were calling for her, but Mission barely noticed. "It's good to see you again too, T3. I can't believe you haven't had a proper memory wipe in all these years, but I guess you could help us out, huh?" T3-M4 returned to spraying the hyperdrive, while Mission beat at the hot, exposed wires with her jacket. This killed off the last of the embers. "Good work, little guy." She patted his metallic head then slid her slightly damaged jacket over her arms.

"Mission, where the hell did you go?" Her favorite crotchety dad barged through the ship, with Bastila right on his heel. He halted by the entrance to the engine room and folded his arms. Jabbing a thumb into the air behind him, Carth sassed, "Navicomputer's this way."

"Alright, slow down, gramps! I was just trying to see what the problem was with the ship and I ran into this little guy." Her droid companion beeped a greeting.

"T3-M4?" Bastila exclaimed. "I thought you were...gone."

He chimed an explanation; Mission's Binary was rusty from a lack of practice, so she only caught half of it. Something about fixing the ship.

"We're glad to see you anyways!" Mission sang. An idea sprung into her mind. "If you've been here since Quesa had the ship then you must know where she is."

T3 beeped sadly, for he didn't know exactly which planet nor did he have any coordinates in his memory banks.

"That's okay, buddy. Do you happen to know anything about the voice-locked navicomputer?"

"...Dee-reet."

Carth knelt down to get level with the astromech droid. "It's okay to tell us, T3. I know you're just trying to protect your master but so are we. She's in danger and we really, really need to find her."

T3 contemplated this for a couple of seconds then rolled out of the stuffy engine room. They followed him to the navicomputer in the security room near the cockpit. The droid beeped and dwoo'd some more.

Mission replayed his noises to herself, then translated, "He, uhh, can't unlock it, but I think he knows the passcode. What is it, T3?"

"Brrrrreeep deet dooooooooo."

An impatient sigh escaped Mission's mouth. "He says he can't say it; he must not have any similar audio stored to splice something together."

"Then what are we going to do?" Bastila kicked at the computer helplessly.

"Statement: If one were to use a sonic imprint sensor to retrieve audio samples from files in which the Maker spoke parts of the passcode, then one could unlock the navicomputer." Into the room clanked HK-47, the assassin droid they all had the misfortune to have met during their adventure on the Ebon Hawk. Leery eyes watched him examine the navicomputer, and Mission placed a hand on her blaster should she need it. "Amused Observation: Instead of stating 'the one who locked the navicomputer', I stated 'the Maker'. There must be a malfunction in my vocabulator."

T3 began whirring and beeping excitedly to the other droid.

"Query: Don't you ever shut up?" HK aimed his overpowered blaster rifle at the smaller droid.

The three sentients simultaneously exclaimed, "Don't shoot!"

Lowering his weapon, "Disappointed Acceptance: Very well, meatbags. Only because the Master would deactivate me if I exterminated you. Curious Observation: I feel...something unlocking inside of my memory banks." The assassin droid stilled and his "eyes" lost their illumination - he was rebooting. Just in case the worst happened and HK-47 decided to go on a murder spree, Mission tightened her grip on her blaster. Carth and Bastila apparently did the same. When his photoreceptors blinked on, HK greeted, "Statement: HK-47 is ready to serve."

"That's a relief," Carth sighed.

HK scanned the room and all faces in it. "Exclamation: My memory! It has finally returned! Oh, how I hate how it must disappear and prevent me from accessing the full reports of my carnage."

T3 chimed to his fellow droid. HK turned his head to gaze at the smaller droid, then returned his focus to the trio.

"Clarification: Now-familiar meatbags, I remember it all. The Maker placed yet another restraining bolt on my memory banks, which was to unlock if ever the perpetually whining Jedi-sister sought to find her. However, I have no knowledge of her destination, nor any relevant information."

Bastila uttered, "Helpful as usual."

HK continued, "Eager Statement: Oh, but I will be! Wherever the Maker goes death and destruction surely follows. Matching such carnage to find her would bring my circuits the upmost joy."

"You said something about a sonic imprint sensor?" Mission asked him. "Where could we find audio samples for that?"

"I have some holocrons back at our old place on Coruscant." Hope and determination burned in his eyes, giving him energy and shaving some hard years off of his face.

"And I certainly can find something of the Order's," Bastila added.

"Great!" Mission grinned confidently. "Then after a quick stop at the capital we'll be ready to go." As she spoke, smoke began to drift from the hyperdrive again, and the sounds of crackling wires sounded. She clarified, "After we fix the ship."

Icy polar air crawled inside Meetra's nose and froze the innards of her body. She already felt numb; now her physical body matched her spirit. She could barely move due to the pain of her soul being ripped in two and half-destroyed, due to the Force allowing her to feel every wound she ever created, due to watching her Master die. Now she had to face the cold as well. And the woman who might as well have been a block of beautifully carved ice.

Atris sat alone inside of her sanctum, meditating. Meetra would have thought that she had not moved since they last saw each other, if not for the absence of the Sith holocrons surrounding her. All was silent for the longest time. Atris meditated on, and Meetra had neither the energy nor the heart to speak. Finally, after what felt like hours, the former Master spoke.

"You survived."

Meetra nodded, unable to find words to say in response.

"But only just. Now you long for the peace of death, the return to her, yet you fear destroying the Force."

Another tentative nod.

Atris exhaled a small, pained laugh. "How easy it would be to end it all. How we both long for it. I would not have lived to see you again if not for the first of the Handmaidens. She forbid me from submitting to such defeatist desires." Atris raised her blue eyes to gaze into Meetra's. "But that is not our path. Why have you returned?"

"To pick you up," Meetra grunted curtly.

The disgraced Jedi gazed at her hopefully, since escaping her Telosian sanctum clearly had never crossed her mind. "Where are we going?"

"We aren't going anywhere," Meetra continued. "You're going to go to Coruscant to undo the damage you did."

"And you?" Atris inquired.

"I don't know." Meetra took in a thoughtful breath. The answer to her was plain, but she did not want to admit it. She wanted her peace back, not the uneasiness of war and battle. But for the first time since the end of the Mandalorian Wars, she was living for more than just herself. Finally, she accepted, "I'm going to find Revan."

"Because she wanted you to, or for your own reasons?"

Even an alluded mention to her dead Master brought additional agony to Meetra's soul. "Because even after everything I still feel like something's lingering behind my shoulder, waiting to strike. And Revan knew. She always fucking knew, so she finally went to face it. But that changed nothing, so obviously she can't do it alone."

Atris smiled proudly, the first one Meetra had seen since before she joined the Revanchists. She stood and mentioned, "Not long ago all you wanted was your ship back."

Meetra attempted to smirk in return. "I guess your dragging me back into the Republic as bait reminded me that I used to have a higher calling. So thanks."

Gingerly, the former Master touched Meetra's shoulder. "I apologize for what I did. For all I did." It was the most struggled for yet most genuine string of words she had ever heard Atris say. "If there is any way I can make up for it, help you in your quest—"

"You can help me by training my crew in my absence," she decided. "Teach them about the Force, how it is more beautiful and more terrible than anything imaginable. Teach them about the Jedi and about the Sith and how they all fucked it up." She reached for Atris's cool, delicate hand. "Teach them how to be better than we were."

Their eyes locked. After all the pain and running of the recent years, not even the past mattered. All Meetra felt was the numbing exhaustion. They were no longer Master and Knight, judge and defendant, fallen and exile. They were simply two women who made their fair share of galactic mistakes. Atris blurted, "I loved you."

Memories of youthful dreams returned with those words. How lovely it would be to exist in those instead of the present agony. Meetra turned to exit the sanctum, motioning Atris to follow her to the shuttle. "I know."