The arrival of 109 BBY was heralded by a localized solar flare that turned the Coruscant sky into a masterpiece of shimmering violet and gold. For the rest of the galaxy, it was a year of burgeoning trade routes and high-society galas. For Revan Shan, it was the "Year of the Hyper-Tinker."
He was currently suspended in his high-tensile silk hammock in the Temple Gardens, but he wasn't napping—at least, not entirely. His polarized sunglasses were active, displaying a cascading stream of architectural schematics and thermodynamic equations. Calculus, the orange-and-brown Loth-cat, was perched on Revan's stomach, occasionally batting at a flickering holographic cursor.
"You see, Calculus," Revan murmured, his voice carrying the dry, slightly manic rasp of the 12th Doctor. "According to my 4th Doctorate in Advanced Engineering, the current state of starfighter design is a statistical tragedy. The Delta-7 prototypes are sleek, yes, but they lack... personality. They're all engine and no heart. I want something that can dance in a gravity well while carrying enough ordnance to audit a moon."
Calculus let out a soft, trilling meow and kneaded Revan's black Phrik-weave robes.
"Exactly," Revan grinned, popping a lemon candy. "It's time to build the future, even if the future is technically seventy years away. Adventure is the journey, and the journey is much better when you're flying a supercar with wings."
The Reactor Audit: Overclocking the Pearl
Before the new project could begin, the "Supercar" of the fleet needed a localized power boost. Revan retreated to the engineering bay of the Black Pearl, which was currently docked in a private hangar he'd leased on the lower levels of the Temple spire (a "Kindness Grant" for fixing the Order's localized plumbing issues).
"Cortana, status on the Mygeeto loot," Revan commanded.
"Secured and cataloged, Revan," the AI replied, her avatar appearing on a welding terminal. "The 10 Kyber Crystals and 5 Rakatan Power Cells are primed. The 800KG of Beskar/Phrik/Cortosis alloy is ready for structural integration."
For the first three months of the year, Revan lived in a state of hyper-focus. He didn't use the MK2 Engineering droids for the delicate work; he used his Mechu-deru to "speak" to the atoms of the ship.
He pulled out the original 3-crystal core and replaced it with a complex, spiraling matrix of 10 fist-sized Kybers. These were stabilized by the 5 Rakatan Power Cells, creating a self-sustaining energy loop that hummed with the frequency of the Heart of the Force.
> The Sovereign Power Matrix (\Omega_{pm}):
> By his internal audit, Revan realized that the new matrix provided a 400% increase in peak energy output. The Class 0.5 Hyperdrive would no longer struggle under the load of the Automatic Stealth Generator, and the Sovereign-class deflector shields were now effectively doubled in density.
>
"There," Revan panted, wiping grease from his forehead with a sleeve of his robes. "She's not just a freighter anymore, Cortana. She's a localized event horizon. If we hit the sublight engines now, we'll be at 1800 KPH in atmosphere before the local sector security can finish their caf."
The Maverick-Wing: A Secret Project
With the Black Pearl optimized, Revan turned his attention to the "Sub-Fighter." He knew from his memories of the "movies" that the Incom T-65 X-Wing was the pinnacle of balanced design, but that ship wouldn't exist for a lifetime. He decided to conduct a "Temporal Audit" of the concept.
He didn't just build it; he consulted. Using his 3.41 Billion Credits, he arranged a series of "Private Engineering Summits" on neutral ground. He met with senior designers from Kuat Drive Yards and Incom Corporation, posing as an eccentric, extremely wealthy "Deep Core Collector."
"Look at this wing-geometry," Revan said to a group of stunned Incom engineers during a meeting on a luxury cloud-resort over Bespin. "According to my 1st Doctorate in Theoretical Physics, your current heat-dissipation vanes are 12% inefficient. If you utilized a split S-foil configuration—purely for 'aesthetic symmetry,' of course—you could double the firing arc of the laser cannons while providing better atmospheric stability."
The engineers scrambled to take notes. They thought he was a madman with too much money; Revan knew he was simply whispering the future into their ears.
"And Kuat," Revan added, turning to the rival team. "Your shielding harmonics are stagnant. I want a shield that doesn't just block; it vibrates. Here, take these blueprints. They're for a 'vibratory deflector array' I toyed with while I was... digging in the dirt."
For the next six months, the Sovereign Flagship 'Prodigal Knight''s industrial fabricators on Lehon were busy manifesting parts based on Revan's "Audited Blueprints." The result was a starfighter that shouldn't exist: a pre-X-Wing hybrid built from Beskar-alloy, powered by its own Kyber-Quantum core, and featuring the first-ever functional S-foils in the galaxy.
The Droid Dilemma: A Family Meeting
As the prototype ship—which Revan affectionately dubbed the Star-Sass—neared completion, he gathered his primary droids on the bridge of the Black Pearl.
HK-47, R2-D6 (D6), and Chopper (C1-10P) stood in a semi-circle.
"Right then," Revan said, leaning back in his Sovereign's Command Chair. "The Star-Sass needs a pilot. Or a co-pilot. Cortana can run a sub-process to fly it alongside us, but that lacks the... mechanical flair I enjoy. D6, Chopper—do either of you want the seat? Or would you rather stay here and keep me company while I nap?"
"Statement: Master, while the 'Star-Sass' possesses an acceptable level of kinetic lethality, my primary sub-routines are optimized for the auditing of meatbags in close proximity," HK-47 whirred. "I shall remain on the 'Pearl' to ensure your lattes are not tampered with by inferior logic-cores."
Chopper let out a series of aggressive, binary blurps, waving his robotic arms. According to Cortana's translation, he was saying that the Black Pearl was his ship, and if anyone touched the latte machine, he'd vent the hangar.
D6 beeped a rhythmic, thoughtful sequence. He enjoyed the freighter's comfort.
"Fair enough," Revan laughed. "You're both too lazy—I mean, statistically occupied—to fly the sub-fighter. According to my heart, we need a new family member. One who doesn't mind a bit of solitude and has a memory-core that hasn't been wiped since the High Republic was just a Medium Republic."
He tapped his gauntlet. "Cortana, source a specialized R-Series Astromech. I want a clean core, reinforced chassis, and I'll handle the personality programming myself. Let's call him R2-B11... or 'Eleven' for short. He'll be the Maverick of the fighter-wing."
The Daily Routine: Coruscant 109 BBY
Despite the secret project, Revan maintained his routine at the Jedi Temple. He wasn't in a rush; he knew the Clone Wars were still a distant ripple.
* Morning: 4-hour "Structural Integrity Audit" in the garden hammock. He had upgraded the hammock with Phrik-filament to ensure it could withstand the weight of the five cats now living with him.
* Noon: Story-time with the younglings. Today's tale: The Starfighter Who Wanted to be a Librarian. (A subtle nod to his archival napping).
* Afternoon: Training the 35 younglings. He was teaching them Form VI Niman now, focusing on how to use the Force to "nudge" the universe rather than strike it. He also taught them Shadow Tag, which had become so competitive that Master Sol occasionally stopped by to watch in confusion.
* Evening: High-intensity sparring with the 25 Sith Training Droids. Revan was focusing on "Seamless Integration"—using Force Repulse and Force Stasis in the middle of a lightsaber flurry without breaking his rhythm.
"You are moving with the Force, not against it," the bronze image of Ancestor Revan remarked one evening. "The feeling is finally overcoming the math."
"The math is still there, ancestor," Revan replied, deactivating his Balanced Purple blade. "It's just... in the background now. Like the hum of a good hyperdrive."
The Nightly Sovereignty
The day always ended in the Jedi Temple Archives. Revan sat in his Sovereign's Command Chair, which was now hidden behind a massive statue of an ancient Jedi Master. Calculus and the "Cat-Pack" were piled onto him, a purring engine of absolute peace.
"Status report, Cortana," Revan whispered, sipping a late-night Naboo spice-latte.
"The Black Pearl is upgraded, the Star-Sass is in production on Lehon, and the R2-Eleven unit is being delivered tomorrow," Cortana reported. "On the galactic front, the Trade Federation has officially requested a permanent seat on the Senate Trade Committee. The can of worms is opening, Revan."
"Let it open," Revan yawned, the chair reclining to the Calculated Nap Angle of 134.5 degrees. "We've got the supercar, we've got the mansion, and we've got the best cats in the galaxy. According to my audit, we're ready for whatever the journey brings."
He closed his eyes. The Maverick was at rest. 109 BBY was a year of building, but for Revan Shan, the most important thing he was building was the next perfect dream.
"Try to be nice, 108 BBY," he murmured into the dark. "I'll see you after my nap."