Coruscant's lower atmosphere was a chaotic soup of exhaust fumes, flickering neon advertisements, and the distant, rhythmic hum of a trillion souls pretending they weren't all living on top of each other. In a secluded hangar within the Jedi Temple's industrial sector—a place usually reserved for senior Masters or specialized engineering corps—Revan Shan stood atop a hover-lift, his face illuminated by the localized glare of a plasma welder.
"Cortana, how are we looking on the refractive index?" Revan asked, his voice muffled by the thick, soot-stained mask he wore.
"Current optical distortion is at 99.84%," the AI's melodic voice echoed through the ship's internal speakers. "However, the digital spoofing is experiencing a slight 'jitter' when we transition through the high-frequency bands used by the Republic's long-range sensor arrays. It's as if the ship is trying to tell a joke that the sensors almost get, but not quite."
Revan chuckled, pulling back the welder. "We don't want them getting the joke, Cortana. We want them to forget they even heard the setup. R2, adjust the power flow to the Beskar-alloy panels. We need that energy conductivity to be smooth. If the stealth field ripples, we look like a smudge on a camera lens, and I'm far too vain to be a smudge."
R2-D6, plugged into a maintenance port near the engine cowlings, issued a series of indignant whistles. He pointed out that the current power draw was technically "reckless" and that the ship's heat signature would glow like a supernova if they didn't balance the thermal dump.
"Reckless is such a strong word, D6," Revan said, hopping down from the lift and wiping his hands on a greasy rag. "I prefer 'enthusiastically experimental.' Besides, that's what the Cortosis filament is for. It doesn't just block lightsabers; it's a brilliant heat-sink. We're not just building a ship; we're building a ghost that can punch you in the face."
The Black Pearl was a sight to behold—or rather, a sight to almost behold. The XS Stock Light Freighter had been stripped to its bones and rebuilt with a chassis of Beskar-Phrik-Cortosis alloy. It was pitch black, but not a flat black. It was the kind of black that seemed to drink the light, making the ship look smaller and more dangerous than its silhouette suggested.
The First Breath of the Pearl
"Right then," Revan said, tossing the rag aside and pulling his dark robes back over his shoulders. "I think she's ready for a stroll. Cortana, initialize the primary reactor. R2, get inside. If the Temple's flight control catches us leaving without a filed flight plan, I'm going to blame your 'independent personality'."
The ship groaned—a deep, metallic purr that resonated in Revan's chest. He walked up the ramp, his boots clicking on the reinforced floor. The interior was a blend of Old Republic ruggedness and cutting-edge tech. The Kyber-quantum computers hummed behind polished Phrik panels, their rhythmic blue light pulsing like a heartbeat.
Revan slid into the pilot's seat, his hands dancing across the controls with a familiarity that came from both Mechu-deru and a previous life spent staring at blueprints of ships he thought were fictional.
"Temple Control is pinging us, Revan," Cortana warned. "They're asking why a mothballed freighter is suddenly drawing enough power to light up a small moon."
"Tell them... actually, don't tell them anything. Just play them some classical Naboo opera and engage the stealth field. R2, Jump-Snap us to the sector coordinates once we clear the atmosphere. Let's see if we can give the galaxy a little surprise."
The Black Pearl lifted off. There was no roar of engines, only a high-pitched whine that quickly faded into silence as the stealth generator kicked in. To anyone watching from the hangar, the ship simply... vanished.
The transition through the Coruscant sky was effortless. Revan felt the Force-flow of the traffic lanes, weaving the Pearl through the gaps with the grace of a predator. Once they cleared the gravity well, he gripped the hyperdrive lever.
"First time's the charm," he whispered. "Try to be nice, Pearl. Do good. But don't fail to be fast."
He pulled the lever.
The stars didn't stretch; they snapped.
In an instant, the Coruscant skyline was gone, replaced by the swirling blue-white tunnel of hyperspace. There had been zero warm-up time, zero vibration. The Class 0.5 Hyperdrive, recalibrated for the Jump-Snap, had functioned perfectly.
"Well," Revan said, leaning back and letting out a long, shaky breath. "That was... brilliant. Utterly terrifying, but brilliant. Cortana, status?"
"Hull integrity at 100%. Stealth field holding. R2-D6 appears to be having a localized processor tantrum, but otherwise, we are functional. Destination: Serenno Sector. Estimated arrival: Whenever we feel like it, given we're currently faster than anything else in the sky."
The Serenno Signal
The journey to the Outer Rim wasn't a rush. For Revan, the adventure was in the journey itself. He spent hours in the ship's small lounge, drinking blossom tea and poring over the data Cortana had recovered from the Naboo mining disaster.
"The signals are definitely older than the High Republic," Cortana said, projecting a map of the Serenno sector. "They're using a subspace frequency that hasn't been in common use since the Alsakan Conflicts. But there's a pattern underneath. It feels like a heartbeat, Revan. A very, very old one."
"It's Rakatan," Revan murmured, his eyes fixed on a specific coordinate near a nameless, jungle-covered moon orbiting Serenno. "The 'Shadow' in the mines wasn't just testing the droids. They were looking for an anchor. A way to tap into the old Infinite Empire's energy grid."
He knew the history. He knew that the original Revan had navigated these same paths thousands of years ago.
"R2, stop moping and help Cortana narrow down the landing site," Revan called out. "We're looking for ruins. Not just any ruins—the kind that feel like they're trying to eat your soul. You can't miss them."
The Black Pearl exited hyperspace on the edge of the Serenno system. Below them, the jungle moon loomed—a vibrant, emerald orb that looked peaceful from a distance. But through the Force, Revan could feel the static. It was a low-frequency hum, a jagged edge of the Dark Side that felt cold and ancient.
"Stealth is still active," Cortana reported. "We are ghosting the planet's surface. I've found the source of the signal. It's an architectural anomaly buried beneath the canopy. It doesn't match the local Serenno style. It's... aggressive."
"That's Rakatan architecture for you," Revan said, standing up and pulling his hood over his head. "They didn't build for beauty; they built for dominance. Right then. Time for a little hike. R2, you're with me. Cortana, keep the Pearl hot. If I'm not back in three hours, or if you hear me screaming 'Oh no, not again!', feel free to level the coordinates with the turbolasers."
The First Fragment
The jungle was thick, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and rot. Revan moved through the undergrowth with a silence that unnerved the local wildlife. He didn't use a machete; he used Force Push to gently nudge the vines aside, practicing the subtlety that would eventually become his trademark.
He found the temple at dusk. It was a pyramid of black stone, half-sunken into the marshy ground. The walls were covered in runes that seemed to writhe when looked at directly.
"Stay close, D6," Revan whispered. "The Force is... weird here. It's not just Dark; it's hungry."
As they entered the main chamber, the air temperature plummeted. In the center of the room, atop a pedestal of obsidian, sat a small, crystalline shard. It was a fragment of a holocron, glowing with a faint, bronze light.
Revan reached out, but he didn't grab it. He knelt before it, closing his eyes. He didn't want to conquer the artifact; he wanted to understand it. He utilized Mechu-deru, reaching out to the digital and spiritual ghost within the shard.
Who are you? a voice echoed in his mind. It wasn't the shadow from the mines. This was deeper. Older. You have the blood... but do you have the will?
"I have a ship, a sassy droid, and a very large collection of lemon candies," Revan replied internally. "I think that's plenty of will for one afternoon."
Suddenly, the shard flared. A holographic image of a man in heavy, Mandalorian-style armor and a t-shaped mask flickered into existence. It was Revan. The original Revan.
"The path of the Maverick is the only path that leads to the truth," the hologram whispered. "You seek adventure, young one. But adventure is just a pretty name for a war you haven't realized you're fighting yet."
The hologram vanished, leaving behind a series of coordinates burned into Revan's mind—locations of other fragments, scattered across the galaxy.
"Well," Revan said, standing up and dusting off his robes. "That was... informative. A bit dramatic, but informative."
He looked at R2-D6, who was scanning the shard with a worried beep.
"Don't worry, buddy. It's just a fragment. A piece of the puzzle. But it looks like our 'adventure' just got a lot more interesting. We're not just looking for Sith; we're looking for family history. And knowing my family, it's going to involve a lot of bad choices and even worse fashion."
He picked up the shard, wrapping it in a piece of silk.
"Come on. Let's get back to the Pearl. I want to see if Cortana can decode these coordinates. I have a feeling the next stop is going to involve the Hutt Cartels, and I really, really hope I don't have to deal with a Rancor."
As they walked back through the jungle, the shadow from the Naboo mines watched them from the canopy, their eyes glowing with a faint, golden light.
The audit was continuing. But for Revan Shan, the journey was just beginning.