The transition from the humid, vibrant wilds of Felucia to the crystalline, biting cold of Scipio was a localized atmospheric insult that Revan Shan met with a fresh Naboo spice-latte and a heavier cloak. It was the end of 105 BBY, and the Black Pearl ghosted into the landing bay of the InterGalactic Banking Clan's central spire under a full Automatic Stealth Generator shroud. To the Muun scanners, the ship didn't exist; to the Force, it was a pocket of absolute, sassy clarity in a world of grey numbers.
Revan sat in the Sovereign's Command Chair, which was currently angled at a thirty-eight-degree "Analytical Repose." Calculus was curled into a ball on the left armrest, while Theorem, the new black-and-silver Loth-kitten, was attempting to "audit" the blinking lights of the Kyber-Quantum computer by batting at the holographic interface.
"You see, Theorem," Revan murmured, his voice carrying the dry, slightly manic rasp of the 12th Doctor. "According to my 9th Doctorate in Advanced Mathematics & Logic Programming, a credit is just a localized delusion backed by the promise of more delusions. But when those delusions start smelling like Sith-sulfur, it's time for a professional audit."
"Landing sequence complete, Revan," Cortana reported, her avatar appearing on the dash in a tiny, holographic business suit. "San Hill is expecting us in the private solarium. He has significantly increased his security detail since our last visit. It seems being influential makes one statistically more likely to be shot at."
"Adventure is the journey, Cortana," Revan grinned, popping a lemon candy. "Let's go see how the boy-wonder is handling the interest rates."
The Reunion: San Hill's Ascent
San Hill was no longer the lanky youth Revan had first met. He was now a rising star within the IGBC, his spindly frame draped in the finest Muun silks, his eyes sharp with the cold weight of a billion transactions. He stood by a floor-to-ceiling transparisteel window, watching the snow lash against the spire.
"Knight Shan," San said, his voice a smooth, resonant baritone. "Or should I say, the Maverick? Your reputation in the Core has become... quite a variable."
"I prefer 'Auditor of Reality,' San," Revan replied, stepping into the room with Eleven (R2-B11) rolling behind him. "According to my 3rd Doctorate in Sentient Sociology, you've grown into your cheekbones. How's the banking business? Still charging 20% interest on hope?"
San offered a rare, thin smile. "We provide stability, Revan. Though lately, some of our 'shadow-accounts' have been behaving with a rhythmic irregularity that defies standard Muun logic. I thought you might be curious."
The Shadow-Bank Audit
San led Revan to the deep-vaults—the "Logic-Well" where the IGBC's most sensitive data was stored. Revan pulled his Sonic Screwdriver from his belt, the silver-and-cyan emitter humming to life.
"Right then," Revan muttered, his 11th Doctor energy surfacing. "Let's see what's hiding under the rug."
Whirrr-vwoop-trill.
> The Debt-Trap Encryption Matrix (\Omega_{debt}):
> Revan utilized the Sonic to bypass the triple-layered Muun encryption. He wasn't just hacking; he was using Mechu-deru to whisper to the very atoms of the server, following a trail of 'Dark-Interest' that led to a hidden sub-mainframe.
>
The terminal flared a brilliant cyan, revealing the "Damask Holdings" shadow-bank. It was a localized masterpiece of Sith-funded manipulation, but as Revan scrolled through the files, his expression shifted from excitement to a weary, cynical disappointment.
Audit Findings: The Shadow Ledger
* Sith Funding: Massive infusions of credits from Hego Damask (Plagueis) used to provide "low-interest" loans to high-ranking Republic Senators.
* The Blackmail Loop: Once a Senator was in debt, the IGBC utilized "Lobbying Directives" to influence their votes on trade taxes and planetary autonomy.
* The Legal Void: No mind-control was found. No Sith brainwashing. No Force-compulsion.
"It's just... stupidity," Revan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "According to my 5th Doctorate in Galactic Lore & Ethics, this isn't a Sith conspiracy in the magical sense. It's just sentient greed meeting professional sharking. These Senators went into debt of their own volition. They wanted the yachts, they wanted the Coruscant penthouses, and they sold their votes to pay for them."
"Will you shut it down?" San asked, his voice neutral.
"Shut it down? Why?" Revan laughed, though it sounded like the 12th Doctor's bark. "They didn't break any laws, San. Lobbying is legal. Debt is a contract. If these people are dumb enough to be blackmailed because they wanted a bigger swimming pool, that's their localized tragedy. I'm an Auditor, not a nanny for the Republic."
Revan documented everything—every name, every credit, every "directive"—and transferred it to a data-crystal. He didn't change a single digit. He just watched the truth.
The Council's Dismissal
Three weeks later, Revan stood in the Jedi High Council chamber on Coruscant. He tossed the data-crystal onto the central pedestal with a nonchalance that made Master Sskeer's tail twitch.
"There it is," Revan said. "The 'Shadow-Bank' of Scipio. Funding the corruption of the Senate, vote by vote. It's being run by a shadow-investor named Hego Damask, who—according to my audit—is statistically likely to be a Sith or at least someone who enjoys the aesthetic."
Master Sol and Grandmaster Yoda reviewed the data.
"Morally corrupt, this is," Yoda rasped. "But Sith? Mundane greed, this ledger shows. No evidence of the Dark Side, we see."
"That's the point!" Revan shouted, his 11th Doctor manic energy filling the room. "The Sith are auditing your bank accounts while you're busy auditing your navels! They don't need to use the Force if you're too stupid to notice a debt-trap! According to my 10th Doctorate in Galactic History, this is exactly how empires fall—not through an invasion, but through a localized failure of ethics!"
"We cannot intervene in legal banking contracts, Knight Shan," Sskeer hissed. "This is a matter for the Senate, not the Order."
"Brilliant," Revan replied sarcastically. "The Senate is going to investigate the people they owe money to. I'm sure that'll go over swimmingly. Try to be nice, Masters. Do good. But don't be surprised when the ledger says you're bankrupt."
The Sovereign's Nap: End of 105 BBY
Revan walked out of the Temple, heading straight back to the Black Pearl. He was finished with the Council for the year. He had 3.41 billion credits in his own account and a Starfighter that could outrun the consequences of a bad vote.
He slumped into the Sovereign's Command Chair. Calculus immediately reclaimed his lap, while Theorem curled up on his right shoulder.
"Status, Cortana," Revan whispered.
"The Scipio data is archived. The Council has officially ignored it, categorizing it as 'mundane political corruption'," Cortana reported. "On the bright side, the Star-Sass has received its new mag-clamps, and the Kyber-Quantum computer has successfully simulated a jump-snap through the Mawan Nebula."
"Good," Revan yawned. "Adventure is the journey, D6. And today's journey taught me that the biggest threat to the galaxy isn't a red lightsaber; it's a high interest rate."
He closed his eyes, the chair reclining to the Calculated Nap Angle of 134.5 degrees. 105 BBY was closing, the "Golden Age" was rotting from the inside out, and the Maverick... well, the Maverick was taking a nap.
"Try to be nice, 104 BBY," Revan murmured into the dark. "I'll see you after my second wind."
The Black Pearl sat silent in the hangar, a ghost ship in a city of stone, waiting for the next audit.