The atmosphere in the High Courts of Coruscant was thick enough to choke a Rancor. The air didn't just carry the scent of ozone and floor polish; it carried the stench of a dying Republic. As the third week of the eighth month of 20 BBY unfolded, the trial of Ahsoka Tano reached its boiling point. The chamber was a grand, sweeping auditorium of cold stone and unforgiving light, filled with Senators, military brass, and a silent, grieving Jedi Council.
Revan Shan stood at the back of the auditorium, a shadow leaning against a pillar. He was fully geared—his matte-black Beskar-alloy armor under his filament-weave robes making him look more like an ancient judge than a modern General. His hood was up, masking the youthful face that had watched empires rise and fall for 135 years. His fingers drummed a rhythmic cadence against his gauntlet, which hummed with the quiet presence of Cortana.
"Master Shan," Cortana's voice whispered through his ear-comm. "The Chancellor is preparing to read the verdict. Probability of a 'Guilty' ruling stands at eighty-nine percent based on current political sentiment."
"Eighty-nine percent, Cortana? Those are rookie numbers," Revan murmured back, his voice carrying that familiar, cheeky lilt. "I've always preferred the long odds. It makes the intervention so much more dramatic."
The Climax of the Trial: A Lecture in Liberty
Chancellor Palpatine stood, his face a mask of somber regret that Revan knew was as fake as a credit-chit in a Hutt's pocket. "Ahsoka Tano," the Chancellor began, his voice echoing through the silent chamber. "The evidence presented by the state—"
"Evidence? Is that what we're calling it these days?"
The voice rang out from the back of the hall, clear, sassy, and utterly devoid of the expected reverence. The heads of a thousand dignitaries turned as Revan Shan pushed off the pillar and walked down the central aisle. His boots clicked on the stone with a deliberate, echoing finality.
"General Shan," Admiral Tarkin barked, his face turning a particularly sharp shade of crimson. "This is a closed proceeding. You are out of order!"
"I'm a Maverick, Tarkin. Being 'out of order' is practically in my job description," Revan quipped, stopping at the base of the podium where Ahsoka stood looking small and broken. He reached into his robes, pulled out a yellow lemon candy, and tossed it to her with a wink. "Eat that, kid. It's better for the nerves than a death sentence."
He turned to the assembly, his hood falling back just enough to reveal his eyes—eyes that had seen the High Republic's golden age. "I've been reading the Republic's legal codes lately. Did you know I have a degree in Galactic Law and Ethics? It's a fascinating read. Truly. According to the foundational charters that haven't been edited in five hundred years, this Republic is a democracy. Freedom of speech, freedom of self, and that pesky little thing called 'innocent until proven guilty'."
Revan paced the floor like a professor giving a lecture to a particularly dim-witted class. "Where is her public defender? Where is the unbiased jury? If a child—a decorated hero of this war—can be framed this easily, what hope do the rest of us have? Is this a Republic, or a dictatorship where reality is whatever the state says it is? Because if it's the latter, why are my 'Roughnecks' out there bleeding? We call this a war for the Republic. Let's make sure we still have one worth fighting for."
The silence that followed was absolute. Palpatine's eyes narrowed, a flash of something ancient and dark flickering behind the mask. Revan didn't care. He was too busy looking at Anakin, who was watching from the sidelines with a desperate hope.
"The law is the law, General," Palpatine said softly.
"The law is a tool, Chancellor. And right now, someone is using it like a butcher's knife," Revan countered. "Anakin? I believe you have some physical evidence that might actually matter more than a political speech."
Side-Mission: The Nano-Droid Hunt
Twenty-four hours earlier, Revan and HK-47 had been navigating the lower levels of Coruscant—specifically the industrial underbelly of Sector 4-G. They weren't looking for a trial; they were looking for the source.
"Statement: Master, my sensors indicate the residue of the explosive nano-droids is concentrated in this warehouse," HK-47 remarked, his Beskar-Phrik chassis clinking as he kicked a door off its hinges. "I do hope the occupants resist. I have a new vibroblade setting that I'm dying to test."
"Kindness, HK! We are being kind by finding the truth," Revan said, his Sonic Screwdriver whirring as he scanned a discarded crate. "Look at this. The manufacturing stamps were erased, but the ion signature matches a batch of research droids from the Mirialan sector."
The hunt hadn't been easy. They had fought through three layers of mercenary security and a swarm of automated defense turrets. Revan had used Force Stasis to freeze a fleeing technician in mid-air while HK-47 "negotiated" with a tactical droid.
Eventually, they found it: a hidden terminal containing the shipping manifests that pointed directly to Barriss Offee. Revan hadn't confronted her himself—he knew that for the timeline to heal, Anakin had to be the one to bring the truth to the light. He had simply handed the data-crystal to Skywalker with a single instruction: "Don't let the anger win, Anakin. Just let the truth do the work."
The Fondor Project: Manufacturing Shadows
While the political world of Coruscant burned, Revan's industrial projects were nearing completion. During the eight-week shore leave, he had spent his nights at the Maverick Research Institute on Chandrila, working with Sarah Jane and a team of droids.
"Luthen needs a ship that can disappear," Revan had mused to Galen Erso during a secure holocall. "Something that looks like a freighter but fights like a dreadnought."
Utilizing his knowledge of Advanced Engineering and the resources of the Maverick Trust, Revan had personally overseen the manufacture of three specialized vessels: the V-21.1 Chevlex light haulcraft, better known as the Fondor Haulcraft.
* The Build:
* Power: A 5-Kyber/3-Rakatan power plant, providing near-infinite energy for its systems.
* Speed: A Class 0.75 Hyperdrive with a Class 4 backup. Sublight speed: 1100 KPH.
* Arsenal: Hidden dorsal double laser turrets, retractable anti-personnel cannons, and the "Maverick Special"—Side Kyber beams for cutting through blockades.
* Stealth: A visual and digital Stygium stealth array, making it a ghost to Republic and Separatist sensors alike.
"Three ships, Master," Eleven chirped, inspecting the finished hulls. "One for Luthen, and two for the Trust's deep-cover logistics."
"Perfect," Revan said, running a gauntleted hand over the matte-black plating. "Luthen is going to love the side-beams. They're very... efficient."
The Verdict and the Departure
Back in the courtroom, the evidence Anakin brought forth—the confession of Barriss Offee and the physical data Revan had secured—shattered the state's case. Ahsoka was cleared, but the damage was done. Revan watched as she walked away from the Order, her footsteps echoing the same path he had taken thousands of years ago.
"She's making the right choice, you know," Revan told Yoda later that evening in the Temple gardens. Calculus the Loth-cat was sitting on Revan's lap, purring like a miniature hyperdrive. "She's leaving the cage before the door is locked."
"Clouded, the future is," Yoda sighed, his ears drooping. "A great loss, she is."
"She's not a loss, Yoda. she's a survivor. And if you're smart, you'll start making sure more of them have a way out," Revan said, standing up. "My shore leave is over. The 596th is prepping for departure. The war is moving into its final acts, and I've got a galaxy to loot and some boys to keep safe."
Status: Month 8, 20 BBY
As the eighth month of 20 BBY drew to a close, Revan Shan returned to the Black Pearl. He walked into the Beskar safe, placing a small data-crystal containing the blueprints of the Fondor Haulcraft next to the Darksaber and his Original Mask.
"Cortana, what's the word from the fleet?"
"Admiral Kaine reports the 596th is at full strength, Master," the AI replied. "The Maverick Trust has hit 7.9 Trillion credits. The Clone Retirement Trust is currently outperforming all projections. And Master Jaro Tapal has sent a message: young Cal Kestis has successfully used his new sonic screwdriver to fix the Temple's main plumbing. Apparently, they don't need a repair crew for a month."
Revan laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "That's my legacy, Cortana. Fixing the plumbing of the galaxy, one world at a time."
He pulled on his cloak, his hood masking his face. The adventure was about to get much, much louder.
| Current Statistics: Month 8, 20 BBY | Value |
|---|---|
| Maverick Trust Credits | 7.9 Trillion |
| Clone Retirement Trust | 245 Million |
| Fondor Haulcrafts | 3 Manufactured / Active |
| Important Loot | Electro-Proton Blueprints, Sith Deep Core Map |
| Revan's Mood | Sardonically Satisfied |