The transition from the aristocratic tea-politics of Serenno back to the industrial, neon-drenched atmosphere of Coruscant was a localized thermodynamic shift that Revan Shan met with a fresh batch of Naboo spice-latte pods, a stack of "Ancient Archaeology" data-slabs, and a very particular brand of 11th-Doctor-esque investigative manic energy. As 35 BBY reached its final rhythmic movements, the Maverick Master—biologically 108 years old but looking every bit the unlined twenty-three-year-old—decided that if the galaxy was going to slide toward a dark-side stutter, he might as well go on a remarkably expensive scavenger hunt.
Revan sat in his Sovereign's Command Chair in the quietest corner of the Jedi Archives. Calculus, the orange patriarch Loth-cat, was draped across his shoulders, while Theorem was industriously auditing the structural integrity of a nearby holobook.
"You see, Theorem," Revan murmured, his voice a dry, rhythmic rasp. "According to my 10th Doctorate in Galactic History, the best way to prepare for a war is to find a place where nobody can find you. I remember a name from a life I lived before the stars were real—Tanalorr. A world hidden behind the Koboh Abyss. Statistically magnificent, remarkably tidy, and currently lost to everyone but a man who remembers the future."
The Tanalorr Audit: Cracking the Abyss
Revan began his investigation by cross-referencing his Earth-memories of Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor with the actual, dusty archives of the High Republic. He knew about Dagan Gera and Santari Khri. In this timeline, he had actually lived through that era, but the "Abyss" remained a localized failure of Republic cartography.
He utilized his Gauntlet's Kyber-Quantum processing array to scan for "Koboh Materia" and gravitational anomalies in the Koboh System.
> The Abyss Traversal Variable (\Omega_{at}):
> By his internal audit, Revan calculated that the Koboh Abyss was a high-frequency spatial distortion. To breach it, he didn't just need a ship; he needed a rhythmic bridge. He tasked Eleven (R2-B11) and Cortana with scanning ancient Rendili shipyard records for any mention of 'Abyss Compasses'.
>
"Master," Cortana's holographic form appeared on his wrist. "I have flagged a rhythmic pulse in the outer archives of the Jedi Exploration Corps. There are records of 'Array' construction on Koboh dating back 200 years. It's untidy, but it's a lead."
"Tidy enough, Cortana," Revan grinned. "We have four years before the Mandalorian Sector gets loud. That's more than enough time for a sabbatical in the Abyss."
The Classroom Stutter: The 10/90 Problem
Back at the Temple, Revan's weekly "Screwdriver Seminar" was suffering from a localized failure of imagination. He stood before a group of younglings and several skeptical Padawans, holding his Silver-Phrik Sonic Screwdriver.
"Master Shan," a young human Padawan noted, crossing his arms. "It's a nice toy. But why use a buzzing stick when I can just cut the lock with my lightsaber? The Force tells me where to cut. It's 100% more efficient."
Revan sighed, the 12th Doctor's weary gravity settling over him. "According to my 9th Doctorate in Advanced Mathematics, your 'efficiency' is actually a rhythmic disaster. Cutting a door destroys the circuitry, alerts the 1% of unkind guards, and makes a mess. The Sonic isn't a Force-tool, little one. It's 10% feeling the Force and 90% understanding Planetary Ecology, Advanced Engineering, and Xenobiology."
> "The problem with you lot," Revan sassed, leaning against the chalkboard, "is that you've been taught that muscles and 'feeling' solve everything. You've had fixed thinking for a thousand years. The Sonic requires you to understand the scientific principles of the universe. It requires you to know why the lock exists before you open it. If you can't audit the physics, you can't use the tool. Try to be nice to your brains; they're getting dusty."
>
The students looked at the device as if it were a logic-puzzle they couldn't solve. To them, the Force was a hammer; to Revan, it was a finely tuned rhythmic adjustment.
Stress Relief: The City Slalom
When the "Academic Stiff-Neck" of the Temple became too much, Revan retreated to the hangar. He maintained his "Rotational Flying Order," taking a random youngling for a high-velocity audit of Coruscant's skyline.
Today's passenger was a young Kel Dor initiate named Gron.
Revan boarded the Star-Sass, engaging the Automatic Stealth Generator. The X-Wing vanished from the Republic's orbital ledger.
"Right then, Gron," Revan laughed, pushing the sublight engines to 2700 KPH. "According to my 1st Doctorate in Theoretical Physics, gravity is just a localized suggestion if you move fast enough. Hold on to your masks!"
They screamed through the skyscraper canyons of the Senate District. Revan performed high-G "Snap-Rolls" and "Gravity-Anchor Jumps," weaving between the massive air-taxis with the grace of a rhythmic ghost. He used Force Enhance to synchronize his reflexes with the ship's Kyber-Quantum computer, turning the flight into a masterpiece of kinetic geometry.
"Master! We're upside down!" Gron cheered, his breathing mask rattling.
"Upside down is a matter of perspective, Gron!" Revan sassed, performing a vertical "Dolphin Dive" through a cloud-bank. "Adventure is the journey, and the journey is much better when you're outrunning the speed of boredom!"
The Financial Audit: The Maverick Triad
Late in the year, Revan convened his three primary auditors aboard the Black Pearl: Kaelen (Accountant), Vara (Financial Planner), and Jax (Investment Banker).
"Status check, team," Revan commanded, sipping a spice-latte in his Sovereign's Command Chair. "How is the 96% doing?"
"The Maverick Trust is sitting at 15.9 Billion Credits," Kaelen reported, adjusting his spectacles. "The 400% return from the Corellian orbital investments has stabilized. We are currently the largest private holders of Rothana Heavy Engineering stock."
"Good," Revan noted. "Jax, what's the aggressive move?"
"We should start pulling out of Trade Federation shipping bonds," Jax advised. "Their rhythmic aggression is increasing, and according to my audit, they're going to suffer a major PR stutter in the next five years. I'm moving the capital into Incom and Kuat prototype research."
"And the 'Kindness' budget?" Revan asked Vara.
"We've funded twelve new medical clinics on Chandrila and Stewjon," Vara noted. "And the 'Kindness Vouchers' for Jaro Tapal's solo missions are 100% operational. He's currently rebuilding a library on Ryloth."
"Tidy," Revan grinned. "Keep the books balanced. I have a feeling the next decade is going to be remarkably expensive."
The Sovereign's Nap: End of 35 BBY
The year concluded with Revan slumped in his chair in the Jedi Archives. Calculus was asleep on his lap, acting as a rhythmic weighted blanket. Jaro Tapal was nearby, practicing the precise footwork of Form II Makashi that Revan had taught him during their rooftop tag sessions.
"Status, Cortana," Revan whispered.
"The Tanalorr leads are 42% verified," Cortana reported. "The Maverick Trust is outperforming the Banking Clan by 14%. And Master... on Naboo, Sheev Palpatine has been seen visiting the 'Sith Antiquities' collection of a local collector. He is 47 years old. The shadow is buying its own books."
"Let him buy them," Revan yawned, the chair reclining to the Calculated Nap Angle of 134.5 degrees. "Adventure is the journey, D6. And 35 BBY was a masterpiece of scavenger hunts, sonic science, and teaching younglings how to fly. Try to be nice, 34 BBY. I have a world in the Abyss to find."
He closed his eyes. The Maverick was 109, the ledger was balanced in secret, and the Auditor was dreaming of a galaxy where the light finally learned how to build its own wall.