The atmosphere of Kamino was an endless, churning grey, a world defined by the rhythmic lashing of hyper-storms against the slender, ivory towers of Tipoca City. It was a place of clinical perfection and hidden horrors, where life was manufactured with the same cold detachment as a droid's chassis.
As the second week of the tenth month of 20 BBY commenced, the Sovereign's Grace hung in orbit, its triple-capital shields shimmering against the magnetic interference of the planetary storms. Revan Shan stood at the viewport, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his matte-black Beskar-filament robes. His hood was pulled low, casting a shadow over his face, save for the faint, sapphire glow of the gauntlet interface where Cortana's sub-logic hummed.
"Admiral Kaine," Revan said, his voice carrying a dry, rhythmic lilt that cut through the bridge's low hum. "I've always found Kamino to be terribly over-coordinated. Everything is so white and so round. It's like being inside a giant, very damp egg."
"General, the Kaminoan Prime Minister is requesting your landing credentials," Kaine reported, his eyes fixed on the tactical display. "They seem... surprised by the 'Full Medical Audit' directive."
"Surprised? How charming," Revan quipped, popping a lemon candy into his mouth. "They act as if the Jedi haven't been their primary investors for years. I have fifteen doctorates, Admiral, and several of them suggest that when you pay for a product, you're entitled to look at the assembly line—especially when that product starts trying to shoot the staff. Lara, Spock—keep the fleet at high-readiness. I'm taking the Black Pearl down. I believe it's time for a house call."
The Audit: Clinical Coldness
Revan stepped off the ramp of the Black Pearl into the sterile, blindingly white corridors of the military complex. He was flanked by HK-47, whose Beskar-Phrik chassis looked like a dark stain on the pristine floor, and R2-D6, whose Kyber-Quantum Slicing core was already sniffing the local network.
Waiting for them was Nala Se, the Chief Scientist. She stood with a spindly, unsettling elegance, her large, unblinking eyes reflecting the clinical lights.
"Master Shan," Nala Se said, her voice a monotone flute. "Your request for a medical audit is... unconventional. The Jedi Council has previously expressed satisfaction with our quality control."
"Yes, well, the Council also once thought the Sith were extinct, and we all know how that turned out," Revan retorted, pulling his Sonic Screwdriver and giving it a playful whir. "I'm here to discuss the 'quality control' of Clone Trooper Tup. You know, the one who tried to lobotomize a Jedi Master during a combat rotation? I've reviewed the scans from Ringo Vinda. I'm particularly interested in the Stage 4 synaptic anomaly—the bio-organic inhibitor chip."
Nala Se's posture didn't change, but Revan felt a spike of calculated coldness in the Force. "A simple virus, Master Jedi. A malfunction in the cellular growth of the template. It has been documented."
"A virus that comes with its own encrypted logic-gate and a direct-link to the auditory nerves? That's a very sophisticated germ, Nala Se," Revan smiled, though his eyes remained sharp. "I've spent 136 years looking at technology. Using my authority as a General and a Master of the Order—the Order that commissioned this army—I'm initiating a full override of your research servers. I want to see the original sequencing for the 'Contingency Orders' protocols."
"That information is proprietary to the Kaminoan government," she countered.
"And your government is proprietary to the Republic's credit-lines," Revan shot back, his voice dropping the sass for a moment of cold, ancient authority. "I am a Master of Galactic Law and Ethics. I know exactly where my oversight ends and your treason begins. Now, let's move, or I'll have HK-47 start 'auditing' your door locks with his vibroblade."
The Grave-Digging: A "Misunderstanding"
Revan moved toward the primary data-hub, D6 already preparing to interface. He could feel the proximity of the truth—the smoking gun of the Grand Plan. But before he could reach the terminal, his gauntlet pulsed with a priority emergency signal.
The flickering blue hologram of Master Yoda and the High Council appeared.
"General Shan," Yoda said, his expression troubled. "Received word from the Chancellor, we have. A misunderstanding, the Kaminoan audit was."
Revan stopped mid-stride. "A misunderstanding? Yoda, I have the malfunction data from Ringo Vinda. These chips aren't for 'inhibiting aggression.' They're for remote-controlled execution."
"Discussed this with the Senate and GAR High Command, we have," Mace Windu added, his voice flat. "The Chancellor has provided documentation that the chips are a necessary safeguard against rogue Jedi—a measure agreed upon by Master Sifo-Dyas. Your presence on Kamino is creating a diplomatic rift. You are ordered to depart immediately to support the push on the Sullust theater."
Revan was speechless. He stared at the hologram, his youthful face twisted in a mix of disbelief and sardonical pity. "So that's it? He tells you it's for your own good, and you just... believe him? You're literally digging your own graves and thanking him for the shovels."
"The war front, priority it is," Yoda said softly. "The Council's decision, it is."
Revan deactivated the comms with a sharp flick of his wrist. He looked at Nala Se, who offered a faint, chillingly polite tilt of her head.
"I'm leaving," Revan said, his voice a low growl. "But I'm not leaving empty-handed."
He turned and marched toward the ARC training barracks. He didn't ask for permission. He authorized a requisition of 120 ARC Troopers—elite recruits who were nearing the end of their training cycle—to supplement the 596th. The Kaminoans, rattled by his earlier threats and wanting him gone, processed the transfer in minutes.
The Rescue: Fives and Tup
Back aboard the Black Pearl, tucked safely in a medical bay shielded by Sovereign-class deflector fields, were Fives and Tup. Revan had smuggled them aboard before the Council's order could take effect, placing them under the protection of Commander Check.
"How are they, Eleven?" Revan asked as he entered the med-bay.
Eleven (R2-B11) was using its shock probe and four control arms to assist the Series 4 medical droids. "The procedure was delicate, Master. The Kaminoans designed the chips to be fatal if removed incorrectly. However, utilizing your Kyber-Quantum processing for the micro-incisions, we have successfully extracted both units."
Revan looked at the two small, organic-metallic slivers sitting in a stasis jar. "A death-switch in the head of every man in the army. Simply brilliant. And utterly monstrous."
Fives sat up on the bio-bed, rubbing his head. For the first time in his life, the constant "hum" in the back of his mind—a noise he hadn't even realized was there—was gone. His eyes were clear, sharp, and full of a terrifying realization.
"General," Fives whispered. "I... I can think. It's like a fog has lifted. I remember the dreams now. The brothers... the mission... the Chancellor."
"Take it easy, Fives," Revan said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You're in the 596th now. My boys don't have chips. We're dechipped, free, and we answer to each other, not a button on a desk."
He looked at Tup, who was still sleeping, his face finally peaceful. "You're safe. You're finally free."
The Future: Clarity and Credits
As the 596th prepared to snap into hyperspace toward Sullust, Revan gathered Fives and the new 120 ARC Troopers in the Sovereign's Grace briefing room.
"Listen up," Revan said, his hood down, his 23-year-old face illuminated by the holographic tactical core. "You've been told you're property. You've been told you're weapons. You're not. In this legion, you're men. You're free."
He tapped a data-pad, displaying the details of the Clone Retirement Trust. "I've secured 245 million credits for your future. When this war is over—and I promise you, we're going to survive it—you won't be discarded. You'll have homes. You'll have lives. That is the Maverick's promise."
Fives looked at the other ARCs, then back at Revan. "What do we do now, Sir?"
"Now? We go to Sullust," Revan grinned, the sassy spark returning to his eyes. "The Separatists have a fleet that needs dismantling, and I'm in a very 'un-kind' mood. Let's show the galaxy what a free army can do."
Status: Month 10, 20 BBY (Week 2 Conclusion)
The 596th has departed Kamino. The conspiracy of the bio-chips is no longer a theory for Revan; it is a confirmed, extracted reality. Though the Jedi Council remains blind, the Maverick has fortified his own walls.
| Current Statistics: Month 10, 20 BBY | Value |
|---|---|
| Maverick Trust Credits | 8.1 Trillion |
| Clone Retirement Trust | 245 Million |
| 596th Legion Strength | 63,100 + 120 New ARCs |
| Loot Secured | 2 extracted Bio-Chips, Kaminoan Synaptic Data |
| Revan's Mood | Disappointed in the Order, Protective of the Men |