The twin suns of Tatooine, Tatoo I and Tatoo II, beat down with a relentless, scorching indifference that Revan Shan found personally offensive. It wasn't the heat—his custom armor's climate control, reinforced with a Phrik-weave, handled the 50^\circ\text{C} temperature with ease—it was the sand. It got into every joint, every vent, and somehow even into his thoughts.
"I've spent 135 years in this galaxy, Cortana, and I still haven't found a scientific reason for sand to be this irritating," Revan muttered, pulling his black hood further over his face. He leaned against a sun-bleached moisture vaporator on the outskirts of Mos Eisley.
"Master, your physiological aversion to silicate particles is noted, but we have a schedule," Cortana's voice chirped in his ear, synced through his Beskar gauntlets. "Admiral Kaine reports that the 596th has successfully reinforced the 12th Frontier Legion in the Mygeeto sector. The Separatist blockade there has been neutralized, and the Vice Admirals Lara and Spock are currently overseeing the salvage of three Munificent-class frigates. You are currently 'unavoidably detained' by diplomatic research, according to the official logs."
"Diplomatic research. I like that. It sounds much more professional than 'dismantling slaver rings because they're being rude,'" Revan grinned, patting the Westar 35s on his thighs. "Is HK in position?"
"Observation: I am always in position, Master," HK-47's voice crackled over the secure link. The assassin droid was currently perched atop a nearby dune, his Beskar-Phrik alloy chassis shimmering slightly in the heat haze. He was sighting through a high-powered blaster rifle. "I have identified three slaver compounds belonging to the 'Desert fangs,' a syndicate currently laundering Shadow Collective credits. Shall I begin the 'kindness' now? I have interpreted your directive to be kind as providing a swift, painless termination for the organic meatbags."
"Swift? Yes. Painless? Hopefully. But let's try to stay within the 'Doctor's' rules, HK," Revan said, standing up. "Disable, don't just delete. We need them to talk first."
The Tatooine Audit: Dismantling the Fangs
The "Desert Fangs" were a particularly nasty group of slavers who had recently grown fat on the influx of credits from the Shadow Collective. Revan didn't need a doctorate in sociology to know that an influx of untraceable currency in the Outer Rim always led to misery.
Revan didn't walk through the front door. He used Force Stealth, vanishing from the visible spectrum and sensor arrays alike. He drifted into the first compound like a ghost. Three guards, hulking Weequay with vibro-pikes, stood outside a holding cell.
Revan didn't draw his sabers. He simply raised a hand. Force Stasis. The guards froze, their expressions of bored cruelty locked in time. He then used his Sonic Screwdriver, the cyan-kyber emitter humming as it bypassed the electronic locks of the slave pens with a cheerful whirr.
"Go. There are three civilian transports masked in the North canyon. They'll take you to the Chandrila relief zones," Revan told the bewildered captives, his voice soft but commanding.
As the slaves fled, the alarm finally tripped. Revan didn't panic. He moved into the center of the courtyard as thirty more slavers surged out of the barracks.
"Statement: Oh, look. They brought friends. How thoughtful," HK-47 remarked as he began picking off weapon arms from the dunes with surgical precision.
Revan ignited the Balanced Purple lightsaber. He didn't use the aggressive Juyo form yet; he stayed in Form III Soresu, a wall of violet light that deflected every blaster bolt back into the slavers' weapons, disabling them instantly.
"You're being very difficult!" Revan shouted over the noise, dodging a thermal detonator with a casual Force Jump. "I'm trying to be nice, but you're making it very hard for me to do good!"
He unleashed a Force Repulse, a shockwave of kinetic energy that sent the remaining slavers tumbling backward like ragdolls. Within twenty minutes, three slaver rings had been effectively dismantled. Revan spent the next hour using the Maverick Trust's resources to coordinate the resettlement of the freed individuals, ensuring they had enough credits to start over.
The Brothers and the Agent
Later that evening, in the dim, cool interior of a "Safe House Project" bunker hidden beneath the Tatooine sands, Revan met with one of Luthen Rael's deep-cover agents.
"The credits are flowing from a central hub in the Mandalore sector," the agent whispered, glancing at the hooded Revan. "They call them 'The Brothers.' One is a monster of a man, the other... he's something else. They survived Naboo."
Revan leaned back, sipping a cup of lukewarm tea. He didn't need the agent to tell him. His Earth-memories were crystal clear. Maul and Savage Opress.
"I know who they are," Revan said, his voice taking on a rare, somber tone. "Maul was always a persistent one. Even after I saved Qui-Gon and left Maul as a half-man on the floor of that generator room, he found a way to crawl back. Spite is a powerful fuel, but it's a terrible engine."
"What's the plan, Master Shan?"
"For now? We watch. They're building a 'Shadow Collective.' They want to unite the syndicates. Let them. It makes them easier to find when I'm ready to audit their existence," Revan said, a cold, sassy spark returning to his eyes. "Tell Luthen to keep Vision focused on the financial trails. If they buy a single crate of rations, I want to know the calorie count."
The Unknown Regions: The High Republic Beacon
After Tatooine, Revan took the Black Pearl into the deep black. Using the Abyss Compass and the fragmented star-charts he'd recovered from the Sith Temple, he pushed into the Unknown Regions.
"Cortana, there it is," Revan said, pointing to a flickering amber light on the long-range scanners.
It was an old High Republic era beacon, a relic from the age of the Starlight Beacon. It was broadcasting a faint, rhythmic distress signal that had been lost for over a century.
Revan docked the Pearl and boarded the derelict station with D6, Eleven, and Miner. The station was a tomb of white gold and marble-styled durasteel, preserved by the vacuum.
"General, this is a Path-engine auxiliary relay," Miner noted, his Kyber-Quantum core glowing. "It contains fragmented notes from Santari Khri herself regarding Dimensional Mechanics."
Revan approached the central console, his Sonic Screwdriver whirring. He bypassed the ancient encryption and gasped. It wasn't just data. It was a discovery that made his 15 doctorates sing.
"It's a map," Revan whispered. "A mapping of stable 'gravitational anchors' that lead to a sector of the Unknown Regions untouched by the Nihil or the Republic. There's a world here, Cortana. One with a high concentration of Bio-Kyber Cells."
He secured the data-cylinders, adding them to his growing pile of important loot. "This isn't just history; it's a future. If the war turns sour, this could be the ultimate safe haven."
The Ahsoka Protocol
Back on the Sovereign's Grace during the jump back to the Core, Revan didn't rest. He entered the training salle, where 10 Sith Training Droids and 50 Marksman-H Remotes were waiting.
"Alright, boys. Let's run the Ahsoka Protocol," Revan commanded, shedding his outer cloak. He stood in his form-fitting Beskar-alloy armor, twin sabers unclipped.
The Ahsoka Protocol was a high-intensity defensive drill he had designed, focusing on the unconventional Jar'Kai style of the young Tano, but amplified by his own centuries of experience. The 50 remotes began a chaotic, multi-angled assault.
Revan moved like liquid. He didn't use his eyes; he felt the Force, a dense, vibrant field with his 23,000 Midichlorian count. He spun the red and purple blades in a blur of defensive geometry.
Clack-hiss-zip.
Every bolt was caught and redirected. He then signaled the Sith droids to engage. They moved with the data of multiple Sith Lords, their red training blades striking with lethal intent. Revan shifted into Form VII Juyo, the "Jedi Maverick" style—unpredictable, sassy, and devastatingly efficient.
"Too slow!" he taunted a droid modeled after an ancient Sith acolyte. He used Force Judgement, a burst of electric-green energy that shorted out the droid's primary servos. "Try to be nice, but if you're going to swing at me, at least make it interesting!"
The session lasted three hours. By the end, Revan was sweating, his trust in the Force absolute. He wasn't just training his body; he was honing his feeling.
The Temple Check-in: Calculus and Theorem
Before the month ended, Revan initiated a holocall to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The blue flickering forms of Master Yoda and Master Yaddle appeared.
"Master Shan," Yaddle smiled, her eyes twinkling. "To what do we owe this pleasure? Another requisition for tea leaves?"
"Among other things, Yaddle," Revan laughed. "But mostly, I wanted to check on my assistants. How are Calculus and Theorem? Are they still terrorizing the younglings?"
Yoda let out a small chuckle. "Terrorizing, no. Educating, they are. Found Calculus in the archives again, I did. Sitting on a holocron of ancient math, he was. Refused to move until a treat was provided."
"He's a Loth-cat of high standards, Yoda," Revan said. "And Theorem?"
"In the crèche, she is," Yaddle added. "The younglings find her presence... calming. She has a way of knowing when a child is struggling with their first Force-levitation. She sits on their feet to keep them grounded. Literally."
"Good. They need that," Revan's voice grew soft. "The war is getting louder. The younglings need to know that even in the dark, there's room for a bit of fur and a lot of sass."
"A heavy heart, you carry, Revan," Yoda noted. "The 'Brothers', you have found?"
"I have. Maul is alive. He's building something. I'll handle it when the time is right, but for now, I'm letting the Shadow Collective think they're invisible. It's more fun that way."
Status: Month 2, 20 BBY
As the second month of 20 BBY drew to a close, Revan Shan sat in his Sovereign's Command Chair, the nap angle set to a perfect 18.5^\circ.
The 596th Legion was winning battles in the Outer Rim under Admiral Kaine's steady hand. The Maverick Trust was projected to hit an even higher return as Revan moved assets into the newly discovered Unknown Regions sectors. The Darksaber and Revan Mask remained locked in the Beskar safe, silent witnesses to a history he was both running from and towards.
"One more month, Cortana," Revan whispered, closing his eyes. "Try to be nice. Do good. But never fail to be kind."
"Master," Cortana replied, "the Senate has just issued a new directive. They want the 596th to investigate a bio-weapon rumor on Felucia."
Revan groaned. "Felucia? The planet that looks like a hallucinogenic nightmare? Fine. But tell the quartermaster I need extra tea. And maybe some boots that don't let the sand in."