The atmosphere within the Jedi Temple on Coruscant was no longer one of serene meditation; it was a heavy, suffocating shroud of suspicion and mourning. The bombing of the hangar had ripped more than just durasteel and flesh; it had torn the veil of public trust. As the second week of the eighth month of 20 BBY commenced, the spires of the Temple seemed to lean under the weight of an impending judicial storm.
Revan Shan stood in the Hall of Knighting, his hands clasped behind his back. He was fully geared—the matte-black Beskar-alloy armor under his filament-weave robes making him look more like a dark sentinel than a traditional Master. His hood was up, but he had forgone the Mask of Revan for now, preferring to let his own eyes see the cracks forming in the Order's foundation.
"Admiral Kaine," Revan murmured into his gauntlet, his voice carrying that familiar, rhythmic lilt. "The 596th's shore leave is to be strictly monitored. I want my boys enjoying the cafes, not getting into brawls with the Coruscant Guard. The mood in the city is... prickly."
"Understood, General," Kaine's voice crackled back. "Morale is high, though Commander Check is complaining that the tea in the Senate District is 'overpriced pond water'."
"He's not wrong. Tell him I'll buy the next round of spice-lattes once this circus leaves town."
The Holding Cell: Lemon Candy and Levity
The detention levels of the Temple were cold, even to those who could touch the Force. Revan bypassed the temple guards with a casual wave of his hand and a cheeky grin that they couldn't see beneath his hood. He reached the cell where Ahsoka Tano sat, looking small and defeated beneath the harsh fluorescent lights.
"You know, Ahsoka," Revan said, leaning against the cold durasteel door, "I've spent 135 years in this galaxy, and I've learned that the lighting in prisons is universally designed to make one look sallow. It's a tragedy, really."
Ahsoka looked up, her blue eyes brimming with a mixture of fear and exhaustion. "Master Shan? What are you doing here? They said I'm not supposed to have visitors."
"I'm a Maverick, Ahsoka. 'Not supposed to' is practically my middle name," Revan quipped, pulling a yellow lemon candy from a hidden pocket and tossing it through the energy field. It bypassed the shimmer with a microscopic zip from his Sonic Screwdriver. "Eat that. It's packed with vitamin C and a healthy dose of 'don't-give-up'."
Ahsoka caught the candy, a small, weak smile touching her lips. "The Council... they think I did it."
"The Council is currently suffering from a collective case of 'Bureaucratic Blindness'," Revan said, his tone softening but remaining sassy. "They're so worried about the Senate's reaction that they've forgotten how to look at the Force. I've already told Yoda that the idea of you planning a bombing is about as likely as HK-47 opening a flower shop. It's nonsense."
"Then why aren't they helping me?"
"Because a public trial is a theater, Ahsoka. And the Chancellor is a master director," Revan whispered, his eyes flashing with a cold, ancient intelligence. "Anakin is out there turning the underworld upside down to find the truth. Let him do the legwork. I'm here to make sure that if the theater burns down, you have a back door."
He tapped his gauntlet. "I've arranged a place. Not one of my usual spots—too much heat. It's an off-the-books safe house provided by a very old friend of mine, Maz Kanata. It's deep in the lower levels, tucked into a sector that doesn't officially exist on Republic maps. If things go south, you go there. Don't look for me, don't look for Anakin. Just hide until I send the signal."
"Why are you doing this for me?"
Revan pushed back his hood, showing his youthful, 23-year-old face. "Because 'try to be nice and do good' is a fine motto, but 'never fail to be kind' is the one that keeps you human. And it wouldn't be very kind of me to let a bright spark like you be extinguished by a clerical error."
The Antiquities Shop: Rituals and Research
Later that evening, the persona of Dr. John Smith emerged from the lower levels, walking with a brisk, eccentric energy toward a familiar shop in the Galactic City. Luthen Rael was waiting, the shop's shutters half-closed.
"John," Luthen said, his voice low. "The 'Vision' network is screaming. The Temple bombing has the syndicates feeling bold. They think the Jedi are distracted."
"The Jedi are more than distracted, Luthen; they're self-cannibalizing," the 'Doctor' replied, pulling out a data-cylinder. "But look at this. The Sith ritual site on Onderon. It wasn't just alchemy. It was a long-range metaphysical beacon. The Sith have been mapping the Deep Core for centuries, looking for gravitational anchors."
Luthen studied the data, his brow furrowed. "Hidden research bases? If they have a foothold in the Deep Core, they could bypass every Republic blockade in the galaxy."
"Exactly. It's a back door to the galaxy's heart," Smith noted. "I've already found one planet in the Unknown Regions with massive Kyber deposits. If there are more, the Sith aren't just winning a war; they're building an empire that can't be found."
Luthen looked at the Doctor. "We need more than just information, John. We need mobility. The Axis Network is growing, but my current transports are... identifiable."
The Fondor Project: A Ship of Shadows
Revan smiled. This was the part of the "adventure" he had been looking forward to. He pulled up a holographic blueprint he had been working on during his meditative sessions—a ship he remembered from a different life, a life where he had watched a show called Andor.
"You need something that looks like a rusted piece of junk but moves like a starfighter," Revan said, his eyes gleaming. "I'm calling it the Fondor Haulcraft."
He began to detail the specs, gesturing to the complex schematics. "I've been consulting with Galen Erso on the power-to-weight ratios. He's a brilliant man, though a bit too focused on kyber-fusion. I've also pulled in some 'favors' from contacts at Kuat and Incom for the engine components."
* The Blueprints:
* Chassis: A modified civilian freighter frame, reinforced with a micro-thin weave of Revan's salvaged Beskar/Phrik alloy.
* Weapons: Concealed tractor beam arrays and twin-turreted lasers hidden behind sliding hull plates.
* Defense: A localized version of the 596th's Sovereign-class shields, powered by a 3-Kyber loop.
* Droid Assistance: An integrated AI link to Cortana for tactical calculations.
"It's a 'Maverick' original, Luthen," Revan said, tapping the hologram. "It'll take a few weeks to finalize the fabrication at the Chandrila warehouse, but when it's done, you'll be the fastest shadow in the sky."
"And the cost?" Luthen asked.
"The Maverick Trust has 7.8 Trillion credits, Luthen. Building you a ship is practically a rounding error," Revan waved off the concern. "Consider it a gift from Dr. Smith to the cause of 'Academic Freedom'."
The Council's Hesitation
Back at the Temple, Revan attended a closed-door session with the High Council. The mood was somber, the air thick with the scent of incense and anxiety.
"Master Shan," Mace Windu said, his voice flat. "The Senate is demanding that Ahsoka Tano be turned over to the Republic courts. They argue that a military tribunal is not enough for a crime of this magnitude."
"And what do you argue, Mace?" Revan asked, his voice sharp. "That we should just hand over one of our own to a political meat-grinder because the Chancellor asked nicely? I've told you: this is a frame-up. The Force is clouded, yes, but it's clouded by design, not by Ahsoka."
"Warning, we must take," Yoda said. "A public trial, a dangerous precedent it sets. But the people... their voices are loud."
"The people are being told what to say by the HoloNet, which the Chancellor owns," Revan retorted, standing up. "If you do this, you aren't just losing a Padawan. You're losing the soul of the Order. You're teaching every youngling that the Temple won't protect them if the paperwork gets too complicated."
He turned to leave, pausing at the door. "I've set my contingencies. Anakin is looking for the truth. I suggest the Council starts looking for its backbone."
The Aftermath: Month 8, 20 BBY
As the eighth month of 20 BBY drew to a close, Coruscant was a powder keg. Ahsoka Tano remained in custody, her trial looming like an executioner's shadow. Revan had done all he could to set the board: the safe house was ready, the investigation was in Anakin's hands, and Luthen's new ship was taking shape in the foundries of Chandrila.
Revan sat in his Level 1313 penthouse, looking out at the city. He wasn't the protagonist. He wasn't the hero who would save the day in the final act. He was just a man trying to be kind in a galaxy that was forgetting what the word meant.
"Cortana," he said, staring at the glittering lights. "How is the Maverick Trust?"
"Steady at 7.85 Trillion, Master. The Clone Retirement Trust has hit 245 Million. And Master Yoda reports that Calculus has successfully taught three younglings how to bypass the Temple's primary firewall using only a piece of string and a Force-push."
Revan chuckled, the first genuine sound of mirth he'd made in days. "That's my boy."
He stood up, pulling on his black cloak. The trial was coming. The betrayal of Barriss Offee was a truth he knew but couldn't yet prove. He had to wait. He had to trust the feeling.
"Try to be nice," Revan whispered to the empty room. "But never fail to be kind."
| Current Statistics: Month 8, 20 BBY | Value |
|---|---|
| Maverick Trust Credits | 7.85 Trillion |
| Clone Retirement Trust | 245 Million |
| Fondor Haulcraft Progress | Blueprints Finalized / Fabrication 15% |
| Ahsoka Safe House | Active / Underworld Sector 7-G |
| Revan's Mood | Sardonically Watchful |