The crystalline spires of Christophsis were breathtaking, or they would have been if they weren't currently being chipped into glittering dust by Separatist heavy artillery. From the bridge of the Sovereign's Grace, Revan Shan looked down at the planet's surface. He wasn't wearing the traditional robes of a Jedi Master; instead, he was encased in his matte-black Beskar-alloy weave, the red highlights shimmering under the bridge's tactical lights. His hood was pulled low, casting a shadow over his face that even the brightest holoscreen couldn't penetrate.
"Admiral Kaine," Revan said, his voice carrying the rhythmic, slightly manic lilt of a man who had seen too many centuries and drank too much tea. "The blockade looks a bit... cluttered. Like a teenager's bedroom, but with more Vulture droids and less laundry. Can we do something about the feng shui?"
Admiral Kaine, a veteran naval officer who had grown accustomed to the Maverick's eccentricities, nodded. "The 596th is in position, General. The Uprising and the Phoenix are flanking the Lucrehulk-class hubs. Cortana is already feeding the targeting data to our turbolaser batteries. We have a 92% probability of punching a hole for the transports within ten minutes."
"Ninety-two?" Revan sighed, pulling a lemon candy from a hidden pocket in his bandolier and popping it into his mouth. "Cortana, darling, can we squeeze out another three percent? I have a bet with HK-47 that we can finish this before the afternoon tea-time."
"I am currently overclocking the fire-control sub-processors on the Sovereign's Grace, Master," Cortana's voice chirped from Revan's gauntlet. "If Admiral Kaine authorizes the use of the Kyber-tuned capacitors, we can hit ninety-five."
"Authorized," Revan grinned. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some friends on the ground who are probably wondering why the sky is suddenly screaming."
The Stealth Descent
While the 596th Fleet engaged the blockade in a symphony of emerald and crimson turbolaser fire, Revan didn't take a standard LAAT/i gunship. That was far too predictable. Instead, he made his way to the hangar where the Black Pearl sat, its Beskar-Phrik panels reflecting nothing but shadows.
"Commander Check, Ruff—get the strike team ready," Revan commanded. A group of thirty "Roughnecks" from the 327th, sporting their custom red-and-black armor, filed into the freighter.
"Ready to cause some trouble, Sir," Check said, checking the power cell on his upgraded DC-15A.
The Black Pearl slipped out of the hangar. Its Automatic Stealth Generator was a masterpiece of "borrowed" Rakatan tech and Dr. Smith's engineering. It didn't just bend light; it mimicked the background radiation of the sector perfectly. Visually and digitally, the ship was a ghost.
They drifted past the Separatist frigates, close enough to see the weld marks on their hulls, before diving into the atmosphere. The descent was smooth, the ship's Class 0.5 hyper-tuning allowing for a precise "jump-snap" into the lower atmosphere that bypassed the primary AA-grids.
"Landing in three, two, one... Try to be nice, boys, but if they shoot first, be very, very kind with your return fire," Revan quipped as the ramp hissed open.
Ground Assault: Meeting the "Boys"
The center of Chaleydonia was a mess. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi were pinned behind a half-collapsed crystalline arch, trading fire with a seemingly infinite wave of B1 and B2 droids.
"Where is that reinforcement fleet?" Anakin shouted over the roar of a thermal detonator.
"Patience, Anakin," Obi-Wan replied, though he looked anything but patient. "I'm sure they're—"
The air suddenly shimmered. Not from heat, but from the deactivation of a high-grade stealth field. The Black Pearl materialized fifty meters behind the droid line. Before the droids could even process the new contact, the ramp dropped, and a wave of black-and-red armored clones surged out, led by a hooded figure in black robes.
Revan didn't draw his lightsabers immediately. He preferred a more... energetic entrance. He sprinted into the middle of the droid formation, his boots clicking on the crystal pavement.
"Hello, everyone! Terribly sorry for the intrusion, I was looking for a bakery, but this looks much more exciting!"
He slammed both palms into the ground. Force Repulse. A localized shockwave of pure kinetic energy erupted, shattering the droids within a twenty-meter radius into scrap metal. Those further away were lifted and tossed into the air like confetti.
"Revan?" Obi-Wan blinked, standing up from his cover. "I should have known. Nobody else makes an entrance that loud."
"Master Kenobi! Master Skywalker!" Revan shouted back, waving a hand while casually dodging a blaster bolt without looking. "Love the new look, Anakin. Is that 'Desperate Commander' chic? It's very in this season."
Anakin grinned, igniting his blue blade. "You're late, Maverick!"
"I'm never late, I'm chronologically selective," Revan retorted. He drew his twin Westar 35s. These weren't standard blasters; the Kyber-upgraded shots were a brilliant, searing white that shorted out droid circuitry on impact. He fired with ambidextrous precision, clearing a path toward the two Jedi.
Clearing the Battlefield
Revan's style of combat was a dizzying mix of Form VI Niman and Form VII Juyo. He moved like liquid, his body weaving through fire that should have been impossible to avoid. When a trio of Droidekas rolled in and deployed their shields, Revan didn't bother with a lightsaber.
He pulled his Sonic Screwdriver—the Silver-Phrik beauty with the Cyan-Kyber emitter—and pointed it at the lead Droideka.
Whirrrrrrr-click.
The Droideka's shield frequency harmonized with the sonic pulse, causing the generator to overload. The shield imploded, crushing the droid inside its own defense. The other two droids' logic processors simply froze as Revan used Mechu-deru to whisper "System Error" into their wireless relays.
"HK-47! If you're done admiring the architecture, we have work to do!" Revan called out.
The assassin droid stepped off the Black Pearl, wielding a massive SaberStaff. "Statement: Master, I was merely calculating which of these scrap piles would make the most aesthetically pleasing heap. It is a hobby."
As the battle raged, Revan moved to the front. He saw a Separatist AAT tank turning its main cannon toward a group of wounded clones. He didn't run to it. He simply reached out with his hand, his Midichlorian count of 23,000 allowing him to grasp the very fabric of the Force with terrifying strength.
Force Stasis. The tank's turret froze mid-rotation. Revan then closed his fist. Force Grip. The durasteel barrel of the tank crumpled like a tin can. With a final flick of his wrist, he used Force Push to send the multi-ton vehicle sliding backward into a battalion of advancing droids.
"He's gotten faster," Anakin muttered, cutting down a B2.
"He's gotten more expensive," Obi-Wan corrected, eyeing Revan's Beskar armor.
The Audit: Legal Piracy
By the time the sun began to set over the crystal spires, the immediate threat to the sector had been neutralized. The Separatist blockade had been broken by Admiral Kaine and Cortana, and the 596th was now landing more heavy equipment.
Revan, however, was busy. He wasn't looking at the tactical maps; he was looking at the wreckage of a Separatist "Supply Submarine" they had intercepted near the docks.
"Cortana, what do the 'Ruusan Reformation' sub-clauses say about 'Unclaimed Industrial Refuse in an Active War Zone'?"
"Master," Cortana's holographic form appeared on his gauntlet. "According to the Galactic Logistics Act of 35 BBY, any material left behind by a fleeing enemy force that possesses 'hazardous technological potential' can be seized by a Jedi Master for 'Safe Disposal and Research' without a Senate filing, provided the total mass does not exceed ten thousand metric tons."
"Ten thousand?" Revan looked at the pile of rare alloys and Kyber-processing arrays the Separatists had been using for their local communications. "We're at about eight thousand. Perfect. Commander Check! Get the MK2 engineering droids down here. I want this 'hazardous material' safely tucked away in the Black Pearl's secret hold."
"Is that legal, Master Shan?" Check asked with a smirk.
"It's not illegal if you're the one who wrote the thesis on the law, Commander. I'm not looting; I'm conducting a 'Secret Audit of Enemy Resources' for the betterment of... well, me."
The Axis Call: Shadows and Trillions
Later that night, Revan retreated to the Black Pearl's private quarters. He lit a small burner and began steeping a cup of Earl Grey. He activated the secure relay.
Luthen Rael's face appeared. "You've been busy on Christophsis, John. The news of the 'Maverick's Fleet' is reaching the Core. People are starting to ask how a single Jedi Master has more firepower than some planetary defense forces."
"Let them ask," Revan replied, taking a sip of tea. "The Senate loves a winner more than they love an explanation. What does Vision say about 'Tyranus'?"
"He's moved to Serenno," Luthen said. "He's consolidating the Separatist leaders. But there's something else. Our satellites caught a transmission between the Banking Clan and an undisclosed location on Coruscant. They're talking about a 'debt restructuring' that looks a lot like a bribe for certain Senators."
"Palpatine's playing the long game with the treasury," Revan mused. "Keep an eye on it. I'm moving another fifty billion credits into the 'Stable Rhythmic Anchors'—mostly food production and medical supplies. When the war truly eats the galaxy, people won't care about credits; they'll care about bread and bacta."
"Understood. Be careful, Revan. The Sith are watching you now."
"I hope so. I'd hate to be doing all this work for an unappreciative audience."
The Financial Meeting: Trillions and Trusts
Directly after the call with Luthen, Revan switched to a three-way holofeed with his financial trio: Kaelen (Accountant), Vara (Financial Planner), and Jax (Investment Banker).
"Gentlemen, Vara," Revan nodded. "Report."
"The Maverick Trust has hit 6.7 Trillion credits in liquid assets," Jax reported, looking slightly overwhelmed by the numbers. "The 'Staple Enterprises' initiative is yielding a 500% return. We've effectively cornered the market on Beskar-alloy recycling in the Outer Rim."
"And the Clone Retirement Trust?" Revan asked, his voice softening.
"Two hundred million and counting," Vara said. "We've started purchasing land on Lothal and Naboo under various shell companies. If any clone from the 596th survives this war, they'll be living like royalty."
"Good," Revan said. "Keep it quiet. If the Chancellor finds out I'm building a private retirement fund for his 'bio-tools,' he'll have a heart attack. And we wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, would we?"
Month 6, 21 BBY: The Next Front
As the sixth month of 21 BBY dawned, the Battle of Christophsis was officially declared a Republic victory. But for Revan Shan, the "victory" was just another chapter in a very long book. He had successfully dechipped the entire 269th Legion, secured enough loot to power a small moon, and managed to annoy Obi-Wan Kenobi at least three times a day.
However, the war was hungry. A new transmission arrived from the Jedi Council.
"Master Shan," Mace Windu's image appeared. "The Separatist push in the Rishi Maze has intensified. Your fleet is the only one in range with the speed to intercept their new stealth-frigate division. You are to redeploy immediately."
Revan looked at his cup of tea, then at his reflection in his Beskar gauntlet.
"Rishi Maze? Sounds like a wonderful place for a stroll. Cortana, tell Admiral Kaine to prep the hyperdrives. And remind him to bring the 'Vintage' spice-latte machine. I have a feeling the next three months are going to be very thirsty work."
As the 596th Fleet made the jump into hyperspace, the Jedi Maverick leaned back in his Sovereign's Command Chair, the Force whispering of adventures yet to come. He wasn't a hero, and he certainly wasn't a guardian. He was just a man with a sonic screwdriver and a very, very large bank account.