The transition from the tail end of 109 BBY into the middle of 107 BBY was, in Revan Shan's professional estimation, a masterclass in temporal fluidity. For the Galactic Republic, these were years of "The Great Stagnation"—a period where the bureaucracy became so dense it started to develop its own gravitational pull. For the Jedi Council, it was a time of mounting concern regarding the "Sentinels' Accord." But for Revan, it was the most productive two-year "nap" in his biological history.
He was currently conducting a Structural Integrity Audit of Atmospheric Suspension in the Temple Gardens. The high-tensile silk hammock, now reinforced with a Phrik-filament weave to accommodate the increasing mass of the "Cat-Pack," swayed gently in the Coruscant breeze. Calculus was sprawled across Revan's chest, while Vector, Glitch, Void, and the new recruit, Widget, occupied various strategic points along the hammock's arc.
"You see, Calculus," Revan murmured, his voice carrying the weary yet whimsical resonance of the 12th Doctor, "the galaxy is obsessed with the 'Now.' They want results, they want ledgers, they want standardized hyperdrive parts. But they forget that the 'Now' is just the 'Then' that haven't happened yet. According to my 1st Doctorate in Theoretical Physics, time is just a localized suggestion."
Calculus let out a long, trilling purr. Revan popped a lemon candy, the sharp tang a welcome contrast to the sweet scent of the cross-pollinated Lehon lilies blooming nearby.
The Arrival of Eleven: R2-B11
The most significant variable added to the Maverick's ledger during this period was the arrival of R2-B11. Delivered in a standard industrial crate that looked suspiciously like it had fallen off the back of a Kuat transport, the droid was a clean slate.
Revan didn't just activate it; he performed a "Kindness Overhaul" in the private hangar of the Black Pearl. For three months, he lived on a diet of Naboo spice-lattes and technical brilliance.
"Right then, Eleven," Revan said, looking down at the chassis. "According to my 4th Doctorate in Advanced Engineering, a standard R-unit is a masterpiece of utility. But I don't want utility. I want a Maverick."
He performed a series of high-level modifications:
* The Core: He removed the standard logic processor and installed a Kyber-Quantum core. This allowed Eleven to conduct 4.2 trillion calculations per second, essentially giving the droid a localized sense of "Force-Probability" navigation.
* The Shell: He replaced the durasteel plating with a Beskar/Phrik alloy shell. It was lighter, stronger, and could deflect a glancing lightsaber blow—statistically ensuring the droid's longevity during "accidental" adventures.
* The Relay: He integrated a Jedi Signal Repeater into the primary communications array. This allowed Eleven to act as a mobile "Ghost Node," capable of transmitting encrypted messages from the Unknown Regions to the Temple without any interference from the Trade Federation's burgeoning sensor nets.
* The Utility: He added four extra micro-control arms for on-the-fly repairs, a shock probe, and a stun barrel for non-lethal defense.
* The Sensor Suite: An upgraded Kyber-quantum scanning package that could detect a cloaked ship from two sectors away.
When Revan finally flipped the switch, the droid's eye-lens flared a brilliant, sassy cyan. It let out a series of binary blurps that Cortana translated as: "My chassis feels 12% too light. Is this a joke or a promotion?"
"Welcome to the family, Eleven," Revan grinned. "According to my heart, you're exactly the kind of trouble I've been looking for."
The Blueprint of Star-Sass: 108 BBY
By the middle of 108 BBY, Revan had completed the most "technically impossible" project of the decade: the blueprints for the Star-Sass. Using his 3.41 Billion Credits, he had "ghosted" the manufacturing through the Industrial Fabricators on Lehon, sending the data-packets via the Prodigal Knight's encrypted link.
The ship was a T-65 X-Wing, but a version that wouldn't see the light of a hangar for seventy years—and even then, it wouldn't be this powerful.
> The Star-Sass Specification Ledger:
> * Atmospheric Speed: 2700 KPH (Supersonic, capable of tearing a localized vacuum in the troposphere).
> * Hyperdrive: Class 0.5 (Jump-snapping calibrated).
> * Armor: Beskar/Phrik/Cortosis alloy hull (Lightweight and lightsaber resistant).
> * Power: Matrix of 8 Kyber Crystals and Rakatan Power Cells.
> * Offense: 4x Upgraded heavy laser cannons, 4x proton torpedo launchers (12 torpedo capacity), 2x forward ion cannons.
> * Defense: 2x Cruiser-type deflector shields (Double strength).
> * Stealth: Optical and digital spoofing array (A 'Ghost in the Machine' package).
>
"It's a supercar with teeth, Cortana," Revan noted, looking at the 3D-projection of the ship, colored in a striking Red, White, and Black pattern.
"According to my sub-logic data patch, Revan," Cortana replied, her avatar appearing on the drafting table, "this ship violates approximately 412 Republic safety regulations and at least three laws of thermodynamics. It shouldn't be able to turn at 2700 KPH without liquefying the pilot."
"That's why I have Force Enhance and a Kyber-Quantum computer!" Revan laughed, the 11th Doctor's joy radiating from him. "Physics is just a set of polite suggestions. I'm an Auditor; I'm allowed to negotiate."
The Council's Visit: An Audit of Attachment
The Council members—Master Sol, Master Yaddle, and Grandmaster Yoda—became frequent, if slightly confused, visitors to Revan's hangar. They often found him elbow-deep in the guts of the Black Pearl or staring at a blueprint that made their heads spin.
"Knight Shan," Master Yaddle said, her voice soft and rhythmic, as she watched Eleven and R2-D6 engage in a binary argument over a wrench. "The Senate Oversight Committee has flagged your... procurement of materials. They claim you are utilizing 'illegal parts' for your starfighter project."
Revan looked up, wiping a smear of grease from his nose. "According to my 5th Doctorate in Galactic Lore & Ethics, Yaddle, a part can only be 'illegal' if there is a law forbidding its existence. I am making these parts from scratch using the Kyber-Quantum Informatics I developed myself. They don't exist in the market. Therefore, they have no legal framework. I am essentially a jurisdictional void."
Sol sighed, his weary eyes taking in the Matrix of 10 Kybers powering the Pearl. "You are building a fleet, Revan. Why?"
"Not a fleet, Sol! Just a toy!" Revan chirped, popping a lemon candy. "Adventure is the journey, and the journey is much better when you're not dependent on the Republic's stagnant supply chain. If the Star-Sass breaks, I'll build another. If the Pearl gets shot down, I'll build a Blue Pearl. I'm not attached to the metal; I'm attached to the knowledge of how to make the metal dance."
Yoda leaned on his cane, his eyes squinting at the Phrik robes Revan wore. "Non-attachment, he claims. Yet, hoarding history, he is."
"Hoarding? No, Grandmaster," Revan said, his 12th Doctor gravity surfacing for a moment. "I'm archiving. I'm the only one in this Temple who remembers that 'The Golden Age' is just a chapter, not the whole book. I'm just making sure we have enough ink for the next one."
The Mid-107 BBY Routine: Stories and Sabers
As the middle of 107 BBY approached, Revan's routine was as solid as the Beskar in his gauntlets.
* 12:00 PM - Story Time: He sat with thirty-five younglings (who were growing taller and more inquisitive by the day). Today's tale: The Astromech who Negotiated with a Nebula. Eleven sat beside him, beep-whistling corrections to the story.
* 02:00 PM - Shadow Tag: The gardens had become a high-level training ground. The younglings were learning to use Force Meld and Force Precognition to find Revan, who moved with the lazy, terrifying grace of Form VI Niman.
* 04:00 PM - The Sith Audit: Revan retreated to the bays to spar with the 25 Sith Training Droids and 20 Marksman-H Remotes.
> The Kinetic Flow Coefficient (\Phi_{kf}):
> Revan's goal was to reach a state where the 'feeling' and the 'blade' were one. He utilized Force Stasis not as a weapon, but as a brush, 'painting' frozen zones of air that he stepped through, appearing behind the droids with a sassy, uncalculated flourish. Ancestor Revan watched from his holocron, his silence becoming more frequent—the ultimate mark of approval.
>
The Sovereign's Nap: Mid-107 BBY
The day always ended in the Archives. Revan sat in his Sovereign's Command Chair, the memory-gel adjusting to the weight of five purring cats.
"Status, Cortana," Revan whispered, his eyes closing.
"The Star-Sass is nearing 90% completion on Lehon," Cortana reported. "The HK-51 Legion has completed its latest drills. The Greenhouses are yielding record crops of Force-resonant plants. And on Coruscant... a young noble named Dooku has been born on Serenno. He's a small variable now, but the probability of him visiting the Temple in the next few years is 99%."
"Brilliant," Revan yawned, the chair reclining to the Calculated Nap Angle of 134.5 degrees. "Adventure is the journey, D6. And today's journey involves dreaming of a universe where the Senate finally figures out how to audit their own cafeteria."
He drifted off, the Maverick at peace. He had 3.41 billion credits, a supercar in the hangar, a mansion in the Unknown Regions, and the best cat-pack in the galaxy. 107 BBY was looking remarkably kind.
"Try to be nice, galaxy," Revan murmured into the dark. "I'll see you in the morning."