The planet Taris was a vertical monument to social inequality. A sprawling ecumenopolis that rivaled Coruscant in density but lacked its polished luster, it was a world where the Upper City basked in artificial sunlight and the Lower City drowned in the neon-lit filth of a billion industrial exhausts.
As the Black Pearl ghosted through the hazy atmosphere in the middle of 133 BBY, Revan Shan sat in the pilot's seat, his hand resting on the Kyber-Quantum console. He was currently wearing his black-and-red Beskar-Phrik armor, his cloak draped over the back of the chair. He popped a lemon candy, the tartness cutting through the metallic tang of the ship's recycled air.
"Taris," Revan sighed, his voice echoing with the 12th Doctor's weary edge. "The only city in the galaxy where the class struggle is measured in vertical meters. My 3rd Doctorate in Sentient Sociology tells me this place is a powder keg; my 2nd in Planetary Ecology tells me the air is 40% smog and 10% desperation. It's lovely, isn't it?"
"I have identified the localized disturbances reported by the Council," Cortana reported, her blue avatar shimmering on the dash. "Several spice-vaults in the Lower City have been breached. The security footage was erased with a high-frequency ion burst—very similar to the 'Smiling Man's' signature."
"Statement: Master, my internal sensors are detecting a high concentration of organic vermin in the sub-sectors below," HK-47 whirred as he stomped into the cockpit, his Beskar-Phrik frame gleaming in the dim light. "Observation: The local gangs are currently engaged in a spirited debate over territory. Suggestion: I should initialize a 'Kindness Sweep' of the lower levels. It would be a very efficient way to clear the path for our audit."
"No sweeps, HK. We're being subtle," Revan corrected, winking at R2-D6, who was busy syncing the ship's sensors with the Automatic Stealth Generator. "We're here for an adventure, not a war. Though, I suppose if we run into trouble, we can be very polite about ending it."
The Slaver's Audit and a Young Wookiee
Revan landed the Pearl in a derelict hangar in the Lower City, the ship's Invisible Cloak masking its presence from the local syndicates. He stepped onto the grimy duracrete, his Phrik-weave robes shifting to a neutral charcoal color to blend into the shadows.
He hadn't walked two blocks before he felt it—a jagged, cold spike in the Force. Not Sith, but something equally foul. He rounded a corner to find a group of Zygerrian slavers loading a group of terrified prisoners into a repulsor-truck.
"I've always found that the chains of others make for very poor jewelry," Revan said, stepping into the light of a flickering neon sign. He leaned against a rusty pipe, his hands in his pockets. "Rule number one of the Maverick: If you're going to steal people, at least have the decency to be good at it. This is just... tacky."
The Zygerrian leader snarled, reaching for an electro-whip. "Jedi! You're a long way from the High City, monk."
"I'm a Maverick. I'm a long way from everywhere," Revan smiled, though his eyes were as cold as Hoth.
The slavers opened fire. Revan didn't draw his lightsabers. He moved with the microscopic efficiency of Form III Soresu, his hands catching the leading edges of the blaster bolts with Tutaminis. He didn't just absorb the energy; he funneled it through his Kyber-Quantum gauntlet, using it to power a localized Force Stasis.
The Zygerrians froze mid-lunge, their bodies locked in time. Revan walked among them, gently plucking the keys from the leader's belt. He walked to the back of the truck and hissed the locks open.
"Adventure is better when you're not in a cage," Revan told the prisoners.
Among the captives was a young Wookiee—tall for a teenager, his fur matted with grime but his blue eyes burning with a familiar, rebellious fire. He let out a low, mournful growl.
"A Wookiee from Kashyyyk," Revan mused, utilizing his 9th Doctorate in Advanced Mathematics to calculate the boy's age based on his fur density and stature. "You're about sixty-seven, aren't you? Practically a toddler in your years. What's your name, big guy?"
The Wookiee barked a series of shy but proud Shyriiwook syllables: Chewbacca.
Revan froze for a micro-second, his Earth memories flashing. Chewie. One hundred and thirty-three years before the Battle of Yavin. The timeline was holding a mirror to the future.
"Chewbacca," Revan smiled, patting the Wookiee's arm (which was already quite muscular). "That's a good name. Very strong. How would you and your friends like a lift home? I've got a ship that's faster than anything the Zygerrians have, and I happen to be heading toward the Outer Rim anyway."
The Hidden Laboratory: The Rule of Three
After dropping the liberated prisoners at a safe-house and loading Chewbacca onto the Black Pearl for the journey home, Revan returned to his primary mission. He followed the "shadow" signature into the deepest sub-levels of Taris, near the ancient ruins of the Old Republic sewers.
Using Mechu-deru, he felt a secret door hidden behind a wall of rusted durasteel. It wasn't just a door; it was an alchemical lock, keyed to a specific Bith-coded frequency.
"D6, override the sub-routines. Cortana, audit the data-stream," Revan commanded.
The door hissed open to reveal a hidden laboratory—a place of sterile white lights and bubbling vats of bio-alchemical compounds. This was the workspace of a Master. Specifically, Darth Tenebrus.
Revan walked to the central terminal, his fingers dancing across the keys. He didn't use his doctorates to fight; he used them to know.
> The Apprentice Variable Equation (\mathcal{A}_v):
> By analyzing the localized data-loops, Revan discovered a staggering anomaly in the Sith Rule of Two. Tenebrus wasn't just training one apprentice. He was auditing two separate paths of succession.
>
"He has two," Revan whispered, his eyes widening as he read the encrypted logs. "Apprentice Alpha: Qimir—the warrior, the seeker of the Abyss, the one used to test the Jedi's boundaries. Apprentice Beta: Hego Damask, also known as Plagueis—the financier, the scientist, the one being groomed for the long game."
"Tenebrus is playing them against each other," Cortana added. "Qimir is the 'Smiling Man' from Khofar, the distraction. Plagueis is the true heir. The Rule of Two has become a Rule of Three, Revan. A systemic redundancy."
Revan realized that the "Acolyte" project on Brendok wasn't just a Sith plot; it was a doctoral thesis for Tenebrus. He was testing if life could be created, not just manipulated, to find a way to achieve Force Immortality without the spirit-anchor Revan had found.
"He's looking for me," Revan realized, popping another lemon candy. "Not me specifically, but the technique I have. Tenebrus wants to live forever, and he's using Qimir as his bloodhound."
The Journey Home
Revan didn't destroy the lab. He did something much more Maverick. He utilized his Kyber-Quantum Slicing tool to replace the data-logs with a highly sophisticated, three-million-word loop of High Republic elevator music and a localized "virus" that would cause the terminal to display a holographic image of a bow-tie wearing Jedi every time someone tried to access the core.
"Audit that, Tenebrus," Revan grinned.
He returned to the Black Pearl, where Chewbacca was currently being "kindly" interrogated by HK-47.
"Statement: Master, the oversized hair-ball refuses to acknowledge that its vocalizations are 90% incoherent screaming," HK whirred. "Observation: However, its ability to rip the arms off a combat-droid is... admirable. I suggest we keep it. It would make an excellent biological 'Kindness Assistant'."
"He's going home to Kashyyyk, HK," Revan said, sitting in the pilot's seat. "But I suspect we'll see him again in about a hundred years."
He gripped the Jump-Snap hyperdrive lever.
"Cortana, set a course for the Outer Rim. We need to drop our guests off. And then... I think it's time we visit the Council. I have some very interesting news about the 'Rule of Two' that's going to make Master Vernestra's head spin."
R2-D6 let out a long, happy whistle.
"Adventure is the journey, D6," Revan said as the stars snapped into hyperspace. "And our journey just got a whole lot more crowded. Try to be nice, Chewie. But never fail to be kind."
The young Wookiee let out a roar of approval, and the Black Pearl vanished into the void.