The transition from the neon-soaked gutters of Sub-level 1313 to the sterile, towering marble spires of Muunilinst was a localized aesthetic shock that Revan Shan met with a crisp, high-collared academic suit, a fresh canister of Blue Mountain-caf, and a very particular brand of 11th-Doctor-esque intellectual curiosity. As 65 BBY settled into the galactic archive, the Black Pearl breached the high-security atmosphere of the InterGalactic Banking Clan's homeworld, its Automatic Stealth Generator mimicking the rhythmic energy signature of a high-yield corporate audit vessel.
Revan sat in his Sovereign's Command Chair, which was currently reclined at a forty-two-degree "Fiscal Contemplation" angle. Biologically, he was eighty-three, but the face in the viewport was the unlined, mischievous mask of twenty-three—a masterpiece of Force Immortality. Calculus was sprawled across the primary navigation dash, his tail twitching in sync with the pulsing market tickers scrolling across the screen. Theorem, the sleek juvenile, was currently trying to "audit" the magnetic seals on Jaro Tapal's heavy-duty Lasat boots.
"You see, Jaro," Revan murmured, his voice a dry, rhythmic rasp. "Muunilinst is the galaxy's primary experiment in 'Abstract Greed.' They don't trade in goods here; they trade in the idea of goods. It's statistically magnificent, remarkably tidy, and the place where the shadows learn to speak in compound interest. According to my 3rd Doctorate in Sentient Sociology, if you want to find the heartbeat of a virus, you look at who's funding the lab."
Jaro Tapal, now nineteen and possessing the physical presence of a localized tectonic event, looked out at the gleaming spires. His purple eyes were sharp, reflecting the four years of Maverick training. "You've tracked the rhythmic ascent of one specific variable, Master. Hego Damask."
The Audit of Shadows: Witnessing Damask
Revan and Jaro, operating under the 'Dr. John Smith' pseudonym, navigated the high-altitude observation decks of the Harnaidan district. Using his Sonic Screwdriver, Revan tapped into a localized data-stream, projecting a holographic ledger of Damask Holdings.
"Look at the flow, Jaro," Revan noted, the 12th Doctor's gravity settling over him. "Every credit he moves creates a rhythmic 'stutter' in a localized economy. He's not just getting rich; he's conducting an audit of galactic stability and failing the results on purpose."
In the distance, across a private garden bridge, a tall, spindly Muun with eyes like frozen ice walked alongside a cadre of planetary leaders. This was Darth Plagueis, performing his role as Hego Damask. Revan utilized Force Precognition and Force Stealth to mask their presence. He didn't move. He simply documented.
While they watched, a young, human Jedi Knight approached the group—a man with earnest eyes and an inquisitive brow. Sifo-Dyas. At this stage, he was a scholar of the Force, untouched by the catastrophic visions of a galactic war that would eventually break his mind.
"Master," Jaro whispered, his hand twitching toward his Double-Bladed Saberstaff. "I feel it. The Muun... he is the source of the stutter. And the Knight doesn't even see it. Why are we just watching? Why don't we go down there and balance the books ourselves? One strike, and the shadow is gone."
The Four Pillars of the Maverick: The "Why Not" Lesson
Revan turned to his Padawan, his eyes bright with a weary, fierce kindness. "According to my 10th Doctorate in Galactic History, that is the most dangerous thought in the universe. Sit down, Jaro. Time for a localized lecture on the Calculus of Non-Intervention."
Revan held up four fingers.
* Resources and Connections: "They have the wealth of entire sectors, Jaro. If we go in 'guns blazing,' we aren't just fighting one Muun. We're fighting the Senate, the Banking Clan, and every legal variable in the Core. We'd be arrested before the audit was cold."
* The Legality Threshold: "Technically, Hego Damask hasn't done anything illegal. Morally bankrupt? 100%. But according to the Republic's ledger, he's a philanthropist. A Jedi who strikes without a legal mandate is just a vigilante in a robe."
* The Uncertainty Principle: "I'm not sure we can take him for sure. He's a variable of unknown power. If we fail, we die—which, fine, it's a living. But if we fail and live, we let them know we know everything. We lose the element of surprise before the war even starts."
* The Ancestral Warning: "My ancestor, the original Revan, thought he could start a war and build a fleet to save the galaxy from a hidden shadow. Do you know how that ended? It ended with him becoming the very evil he was trying to stop. Unless you want to build a fleet and become the next Emperor, our hands are tied to the truth, not the blade."
Revan leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm not being a guardian of the Republic, Jaro. I'm an Auditor. I document the mess so that when the time comes to clean it up, we have the right broom. Try to be nice. Do good. But never fail to be kind to the timeline. It's fragile."
The Synthesis Audit: Four Droids and Level 10 Protocol
Back on Coruscant, in the 1313 penthouse, the training reached its peak. Jaro was now facing four Mark IV Sith Training Droids simultaneously.
"Integration, Jaro!" Revan shouted over the rhythmic hiss of training blades. "Form VI Niman to hold the room, Form V Djem So to break the line! I want a cohesive equation!"
> The Quadrant Defense Equation (\Psi_{q}):
> By his internal audit, Jaro Tapal stood in a whirlwind of blue geometry. He utilized his Double-Bladed Saberstaff to catch the strikes of two droids, while simultaneously using Force Repulse to clear a path through the other two. He caught a training bolt from the Ahsoka Protocol remotes with his palm using Tutaminis, channeling the thermal energy into a Force Push that disabled a droid's logic-core.
>
"Statistical perfection!" Revan cheered, sassing a remote by clicking his Sonic Screwdriver to temporarily reverse its firing frequency. "Now, back to the rooftops! Theorem is bored, and his mobility audit is due!"
Rooftop Tag: The Form II/IV Pivot
The day ended with their mandatory "Tag" session across the dizzying skylines of the under-city. Revan took off with a rhythmic burst of Force Enhance, backflipping over a massive cooling fan.
"Catch me, Jaro!" Revan laughed. "Remember! Form II Makashi footwork! Minimize the effort! Form IV Ataru for the gaps! Don't just jump; audit the trajectory!"
Jaro lunged after him, his massive frame a blur of purple fur and Force-enhanced power. He moved with a grace that defied his size, pivoting on single-inch ledges and using Force Grip to swing from support cables. He was becoming a Maverick—a Jedi who could fight in a ballroom or a shipyard with equal efficiency.
The Sovereign's Nap: End of 65 BBY
The year concluded with the Black Pearl ghosting through Coruscant's upper ionosphere. Revan was slumped in his chair, Calculus sleeping on his lap. Jaro Tapal was sitting cross-legged on the floor, using his Kyber Green Sonic Screwdriver to repair a localized short in a training remote, his face glowing with a quiet, scholarly peace.
"Status, Cortana," Revan whispered.
"The report on Muunilinst has been filed with the Council; Master Yoda marked it as 'Intriguing, yet untidy,'" Cortana reported. "The 3 Billion credits are stable. Jaro's academic proficiency in Kyber-Quantum Informatics has reached a 98% threshold."
"Brilliant," Revan yawned, the chair reclining to the Calculated Nap Angle of 134.5 degrees. "Adventure is the journey, D6. And 65 BBY was a masterpiece of fiscal auditing and teaching a Lasat why we don't start wars on a whim. Try to be nice, 64 BBY. I have a feeling the shadow is about to start making its first big move."
He closed his eyes. The Maverick was eighty-three, his Padawan was a mountain of blue light and academic brilliance, and the galaxy continued its slow, binary drift.