Revan isn't the only Jedi who gets a Forge.

This is at least as much habit building exercise as anything else- the theory is that the uncertainty of the CF system gets me more invested in writing so I see what comes next, and it's borne out well so far- as of writing this note, I have 9k written for this fic, which is the first four chapters. We'll see how it holds up.

I've got my same beta team as for Incense keeping an eye on me so I don't go all Taylor Varga on this fic, but ojala some of the rules I keep for my writing will keep me in line.

I'm using CF V3, running 100 points per 1000 words. I reserve the right to reroll the perks for any reason, but primarily either plot or unfamiliarity with the property in question.

Beta'd by FirstSelector, SpyTheEngineer, and Kinsworth.

Meetra Surik received no warning when the Force abruptly reconnected to her.

In theory, this would have happened eventually, albeit far less abruptly- the Jedi Exile would have forged a bond with first the disguised Darth Traya, then others, and from those connections woven a path across the massive psychic injury that had necessitated her becoming separated from the Force to begin with.

More practically, the Sith Lord Darth Malak had planned well for his coup against his erstwhile friend, Revan- he'd had the foresight to track down many of the Jedi who had left the order in the wake of the Mandalorian Wars, and one way or another they were to be removed from the figurative dejarik board.

In the case of the general who had been Revan's right hand, his spies had determined that she bore no more presence in the Force than a droid, and Malak had discarded her as an asset.

In other universes, she would have been allowed to drift around the Rim for years longer, under observation until the fall of Malak and his spy network, until the return of the Ebon Hawk after Revan's unsuccessful trip to Nathema.

In this universe, Darth Bandon decided that Meetra Surik could not be left alive.

The Force disagreed.

All this to say that, when an infinite field of stars blazed to life in the Wound left behind by the activation of the of the Mass Shadow Generator, and beyond that, the Force spoke to Meetra Surik's spirit once again, she startled badly, dropping the hydrospanner she was holding onto the floor of the climate regulator facility she'd found seasonal work in as she once again was unified with the whole of the galaxy.

More than that, though, she felt as stars fell from the field of stars within her spirit- one fell to land in her hand, taking an inconstant form- sometimes a key card, sometimes a set of lockpicks, sometimes a code cylinder- and one fell into her head.

For a timeless instant, she felt as if she was being torn out of her own head by the weight of the star, mind fraying under its assault-

But it passed quickly, and once she returned to her senses, she felt a new set of skills overlaying her own- categorizing the loose ends around her, how they could be kitbashed into all manner of tools from single-use grappling lines to grenades to even a Senate-grade privacy field.

It took the white-haired woman a moment to realize why, exactly, that was so important, and by that point it was almost too late to dodge.

Almost, of course, only counting in nerfshoes and hand grenades, the Force gave Meetra just enough warning for her to drop flat to the floor, a high-powered slugthrower putting a round through the space her head had just occupied.

Reaching out with her mind, telekinesis uncertain after so long without practice, Meetra dragged a pile of components together right in front of her, splicing wires between four different tools and reconfiguring software drivers until-

She rolled left, fingers still desperately working, as another slug planted itself right where her head would have been.

Finally, after the longest seconds she'd had since Malachor, the slapdash privacy field hummed to life, projecting its barrier around her and preventing whatever sensor let the assassins track her through two separate duracrete walls, leaving her with the time to at the very least take an inventory of what she could do with the equipment at hand.

It wasn't looking particularly good, to be honest.

She had enough raw materials to shape into a fistful of crude fragmentation grenades, two grappling lines, and a mess of a holdout blaster that would maybe buy her ten bolts, with the tools in the room, and-

The Force drew her attention back to the star that had fallen into her hand, which had stabilized (at least for now) as a data card remarkably similar to the one she had used to enter this room.

"Sure, may as kriffing well," grumbled the former general, swiping the card against the exit panel for the room, and-

The door swung open on hydraulics she knew damn well weren't there five minutes ago, revealing what looked to be a workshop full of tools both mundane and advanced. Some of the advanced ones she couldn't quite identify, and others looked different than those she'd worked with before, but she was familiar with enough to do a bastardized impression of a gunsmith and make the holdout blaster she'd cobbled together into something that might just last her beyond the immediate fight.

Of course, that was predicated on her surviving the imminent fight, and that would only happen if she finished before the assassins made their way into the room.

Fortunately, the Force was more than up to the task of guiding her through the operation of the unfamiliar equipment, and within five minutes, the blaster resembled an actual weapon, and not the scraps and tools she'd desperately welded it out of.

Emerging from the workshop feeling much more sanguine about her chances and holding a short, vibrating blade that looked to be used to carve through durasteel alloys, her mood immediately fell as two bright red blades punched through the duracrete wall like so much fried nuna.

Meetra Surik tucked the blaster into a pocket, given how little it would do, then slipped one of the four grenades she'd managed to jury-rig out of the belt pouch she'd sequestered it into, thumb on the button to ignite the charge as she watched the blades carve through the wall. When the circle of molten composite was complete, just as the weapons were retracting, she struck- lashing out with desperate telekinesis, slamming the plug of duracrete out with the sound of snapping bones and hurling the grenade in its wake.

Once the grenade had detonated, she leapt through the hole, transferring the blade to her dominant right hand as she dropped a second grenade, and took stock of her situation, absently noting the starry mass shifting but not dropping anything more on her.

One of the assassins was clearly dead, upper body crushed under the plug of duracrete. Another was staggering, clearly having taken the bulk of the detonation of the grenade, and in one flicker-quick motion, the blade she had picked up pierced into his intestines, and when she removed the not-quite-vibroblade from his gut, he fell, lightsaber winking out with brutal finality.

The last assassin, however, was hale and hearty, lightstaff held aggressively in a Juyo stance as he glared at her. "Foolish Jedi! You will fall against the might of the Sith!"

Meetra made a moment to give the man a once-over, skepticism clear in her glance at the man's unimpressive physique and stim-twitchy motions. "Is that how you woo all the girls? Because if so, then you might want to just pack it in now."

Instead of giving a coherent reply, he screamed, pressure emanating through the Force, and charged her, blades blurring as he spun them in what was probably intended to be a threatening manner.

"Tell me," she said, dodging a sloppy jab-slash combination and probing his reflexes with an easily-dodged jab of the blade, "who was it that taught you your Juyo? Because whoever it was, I'm going to have some words with them about the quality of their instruction. Well, that and their poor taste in students."

With another scream, this one far stronger (for what little good it did him, washing over Meetra's mind like spilled milk dripping down a table leg), he sped up, trying to make up for his sloppy technique with aggression and speed.

In his ever-advancing rush, he neglected to truly hold up any kind of defense, likely used to relying on the weight of his advance and the way he was pulling the Force along with him (or at least trying to) to keep whichever poor soul he was trying to kill at any given time from actually harming him.

Against most opponents, that would have likely worked, but Meetra Surik hadn't spent years fighting against Alek- the strongest Juyo practitioner in the order- and Revan's overwhelming Niman just to fold in the face of an assassin who'd spent more time shipside than on the ground in the wars, if he'd even fought in them at all.

Gradually, the little cuts she was sneaking in built up, the assassin foolishly drawing the Force more and more into his body to keep it from collapsing under him and less and less to try and overwhelm her.

"Why," he panted, a visible sheen of sweat on his unnaturally pallid face, "won't you die?"

"Ask Mandalore."

While he was blinking at that- he'd probably not been appraised of her name, then, since she hadn't met a person in the Order who hadn't heard about the time she fought the leader of the Mandalorians to a standstill, months before Revan had cleaved his head from his shoulders- Meetra saw her chance, and struck.

One swipe of the vibrating dagger severed the tendons in his forearms, cleaving through the flesh like it was a soft Alderaanian cheese, and by the time he realized that she'd just been toying with him, the blade was already being driven through his neck and subsequently bursting out through the back of his head, angled upwards to catch the gap between where his vertebrae and his skull with the kind of precision that only the Force's guidance could offer.

Meetra flicked the blade out to one side, and he fell, head lolling off his neck like a grotesque sling. That done, she picked up his lightsaber, already preparing to wince away if it was a bled crystal- but no, his crystal was just naturally a dark enough orange to be mistaken for red in the heat of the moment, and she hooked the weapon to her belt. Even if it wasn't the weapon that had borne her through both her Padawanship and the Wars, any lightsaber was better than no lightsaber, and the cooperation of the crystal (already trying to bond with her) was just a bonus on that front.

The three assassins inside all handled, she turned her focus back to the next steps- escape. Since none of the three had a slugthrower on them, she assumed that the sniper who had almost returned her to the Force was still on overwatch, and while the privacy field was stymieing them for now, she couldn't afford to count on that for long- already, the Force was pushing her for speed, and she knew that the hack job she'd done to get it to start at all wasn't a long-term solution at all.

So, out she went.

Carefully, of course- she'd made sure to grab a mirror-polished sheet of metal that fit in her hand, and she left outside of the field of view of the position the shots that had almost killed her had come from, but out nonetheless.

It only took a handful of minutes' worth of skulking about before she found the sniper, a glint of light off of a scope being the only thing that saved her from a sudden perforation of her skull.

She leapt forwards, heart pounding, and was vindicated in her instincts' choice as the sniper came into focus- a pale, almost skull-faced Twi'lek man- attempting to shove a cartridge into the antique bolt-action weapon's receiver.

He managed to slam the bolt home and fire, but she was too close to him at that point and he missed her flesh. She heard as much as felt the lightsaber fall away from her hip, but that didn't matter- she pinned the hand that was scrabbling for a holdout blaster to his chest, and then tore the blade out with perhaps more force than was strictly warranted.

After jerking the blade out and opening his throat with it, she scooped up the slugthrower and used the strap attached to the bottom to sling it over her shoulder.

The starscape shifted again, more vigorously this time, but still nothing fell from it, and she used that time to claim all the bandoliers covered in slugs and the slugthrower pistol he had been reaching for when she reached him, as well as the Kyber crystal and several of the less easily found components from the lightsaber. She glanced up at the ship behind him, a piece of crap shuttle, but decided to save stealing that for later.

That done, she rushed back into the compound to scoop up every tool or piece of scrap she could grab and stuff it into a rucksack (and the dropped grenade she never had to use, but that went into her belt), then to rip up the least bloodied assassin's cloak to make a makeshift mask, new instincts helping with that as well. She very nearly scooped up the lightsabers that the other two assassins had brought with them, but the screaming of the bled Kyber crystals warded her away- with the urgency the Force was urging her to, she didn't have time to cannibalize them for parts, and she wasn't willing to carry bled Kyber with her for any significant length of time until and unless she learned how to purify it, so behind they stayed. With that, she took one last look around her place of work, then closed the door and turned to leave.

She felt the blade she'd taken vanish, and almost panicked, but the Force showed an insistent image of the tool just as she'd first found it in.

Just to cover her bases, she opened the door with the star-card once again, and just as the Force had shown her, the blade was lying on the table just like she'd first found it.

With that assurance handled, Meetra hurried out of the building.

And that's that!

Not a whole lot to say here, we've barely begun.

Edit: Forgot to mention the perks whoops

MacGyver (Andromeda, 16.0070, 100 CP): You are a natural at fixing and jury rigging things. As long as you have the parts and tools you can fix nearly anything. You also have the capability to build emergency equipment that can help to save your life and the lives of others, but these tend to be one offs given the time crunch you are usually under.

Workshop (Bubblegum Crisis, 7.0080, 100 CP): Do you need tools? You have ALL the tools. Using this, you can effectively build and/or repair any damn thing in BGC, though constructing orbital shuttles might take a while. Never mind getting a hold of the plans. Can act as an independent location or as an upgrade/attachment to Canyon Garage or Underground Hideout.

If you want to support me as a writer, I got me a Ko (fi) (https (:/) (/) ko (-) fi (/) lucifra) and a Pa tre on (https (:/) pa tre on .com (/) Lucifra), and you can see chapters a week early if you become a patron. (remove spaces and parentheses)

Speaking of which, my thanks to NotableRonin and Ember for being patrons!

I also have a discord sir ver for author stuff now (as in as of like right now it's going live)- if you have questions or comments that you'd like a more direct, that's another option: https (:/) (/) dis co rd dot com (/) NHRUKz8jyy (remove spaces and parentheses, dot to period)

That's about it, so read, review, enjoy, and have a nice day!