The transition from the dry, bone-dust winds of Korriban to the endless, shimmering turquoise horizons of Manaan was a localized atmospheric delight that Revan Shan met with a high-collars-up stance, a new pair of waterproof loafers, and a very particular brand of 11th-Doctor-esque whimsy. As 91 BBY surrendered to the calendar and 90 BBY took its place, the Black Pearl descended toward the floating capital of Ahto City.
The planet was a world of absolute, rhythmic blue. To the rest of the galaxy, Manaan was the sole source of Kolto—the miracle healing fluid that the Selkath traded with a neutrality so fierce it bordered on the aggressive. To the Jedi Council, it was a vital supply line. But to Revan Shan, it was a "Hydrodynamic Archive" that had been hiding its best secrets under too many kilopascals of pressure for far too long.
Revan sat in his Sovereign's Command Chair, which was currently reclined at a forty-four-degree "Aquatic Contemplation" angle. Calculus was perched on the console, his eyes wide and pupils dilated as he watched the white-capped waves through the viewport—a feline's nightmare made of endless bathwater. Theorem, the silver-and-black kitten, was industriously trying to "audit" a loose thread on Chewbacca's new waterproof vest, batting at the Wookiee's shaggy arm every time the ship hit a pocket of turbulence.
"You see, Chewie," Revan murmured, his voice carrying the dry, slightly manic rasp of the 12th Doctor as he sipped a latte frothed with sea-salt caramel. "According to my 2nd Doctorate in Planetary Ecology, Manaan is a localized miracle of buoyancy. The Selkath think they own the water because they can breathe it, but according to my 10th Doctorate in Galactic History, the basement of this planet was rented out long before they developed opposable fins. It's statistically magnificent and remarkably wet."
Chewbacca let out a resonant, low-frequency rumble—a Wookiee's way of expressing that he preferred the solid trees of Kashyyyk but was willing to tolerate the damp for a good seafood platter.
"Cortana, status on the Automatic Stealth Generator," Revan commanded.
"Full mask, Revan," the AI replied, her avatar appearing on the dash in a tiny, holographic diving suit. "The Selkath sensor grids are calibrated for standard freighters. They won't see a 'Black XS' light freighter slipping into the Hrakert Rift sector. However, the pressure at twenty thousand meters is statistically likely to turn a standard hull into a very expensive soda can."
"Good thing we aren't standard," Revan grinned, tapping the Beskar/Phrik/Cortosis alloy chassis of the bridge. "Adventure is the journey, D6. And today the journey involves a very deep dive."
The Audit of the Rift: The Rakatan Abyss
While the rest of the galaxy thought the Hrakert Rift was just a source of high-grade Kolto, Revan knew better. Using the fragmented star-charts he'd recovered on Endor and the Kyber-Quantum scanning array, he identified a localized gravitational anomaly buried in the silt of the abyss.
The Black Pearl didn't just submerge; it descended like a phantom. Revan utilized Force-Precog to navigate the jagged volcanic vents of the Rift floor, the Sovereign-class deflector shields humming as they pushed back against the crushing weight of the ocean.
"Right then," Revan muttered, pulling his Sonic Screwdriver from his belt as they hovered before a massive, barnacle-encrusted dome of Rakatan origin. "According to my 4th Doctorate in Advanced Engineering, the airlocks on these 'Infinite Empire' labs operate on a rhythmic pressure-sync. If you don't hit the right frequency, the ocean audits your existence permanently."
Whirrr-vwoop-trill.
> The Deep-Sea Hydro-Lock Equation (\Psi_{hydro}):
> By his internal audit, Revan synchronized the Sonic's vibration with the molecular density of the water inside the lock. He utilized Force Stasis to hold the pressure differential steady while Mechu-deru whispered to the 20,000-year-old bio-circuitry. The Screwdriver bridged the gap between the modern 'Now' and the ancient 'Then,' convincing the facility that a High Auditor had arrived for a scheduled inspection.
>
The massive stone-alloy iris hissed open, allowing the Black Pearl to dock in a pressurized hangar that hadn't tasted air since the fall of the Star Forge.
The Sunken Loot: 90 BBY
Revan spent three months auditing the facility, which he identified as Station Blue-Hydro. It was a Rakatan research facility dedicated to "Force-Matter Manifestation" through biological fluids—the precursor to modern Kolto.
Manaan Rakatan Audit Tally:
* Rakatan Atmospheric Water Extractors: 100x Units (Capable of pulling pure water from the vacuum of space).
* High-Grade Beskar Ingots: 200KG (Found in a sealed structural repair bay).
* 6x Kyber-Quantum Processing Arrays: (Upgrading the Prodigal Knight's force-probability computers).
* Purified Kyber-Focal Crystal: 1x (Massive, heart-shaped crystal used for planetary shielding).
* Rakatan Memory Crystal: 1x (Containing the 'Star-Forge Logic Keys' for the Manaan sector).
"Brilliant," Revan noted, handing a data-pad to Miner. "The Selkath are selling the diluted byproduct, while the concentrated formula has been sitting here in the basement. It's a localized failure of curiosity."
The Sabbatical: Seafood and Sovereignty
With the facility secured, Revan declared the rest of 90 BBY to be a "Year of Oceanic Tranquility." They docked at a private underwater villa Revan leased through a shell company using his Secret Credits.
The year was a masterpiece of relaxed sovereignty:
* The Gastronomic Audit: Revan and Chewie became regulars at the "Triton's Table," where they sampled every variety of crustacean the planet offered. Chewbacca's ability to eat his weight in steamed crab became a localized legend.
* Deep Sea Diving: Revan spent his afternoons in a high-tech diving suit, using the Gauntlets of the Beast-Lord to communicate with the giant Firaxan sharks, teaching them that "Mavericks are friends, not food."
* The Cat-Pack's Adventure: Theorem discovered that batting at fish through the transparisteel windows of the villa provided hours of rhythmic entertainment. Calculus, meanwhile, perfected the art of "Napping with Sea-Noise."
The Tide-Turner Syndicate: A Kindness Intervention
The peace was interrupted in the middle of the year when a localized criminal organization, the Tide-Turner Syndicate, began extorting a community of Selkath elders and retired Republic dockworkers in the lower sectors of Ahto City. They were charging a 60% "Oxygen Protection Fee."
Revan, Chewie, and HK-47 didn't call the authorities. They conducted an independent audit.
"According to my 3rd Doctorate in Sentient Sociology," Revan said, standing in the center of the Syndicate's headquarters—a repurposed luxury tanker—his black robes dry despite the humidity. "Your business model is a statistical insult. You are operating at a moral deficit of 100%, and the ledger is due for a collection."
The Syndicate leader, a bloated Quarren, laughed. "There's 3,500 of us on this moon, Jedi. You're one man and a carpet."
*"Correction: I am a highly advanced assassination droid with a localized craving for 'Kindness'," * HK-47 whirred, his electrostaff sparking. "Observation: The Wookiee is also currently calculating how many of your limbs he can remove before he gets bored."
The "Week of Blue Fire" followed.
Revan didn't use a degree; he used the Feeling. He moved through the Syndicate's ranks in a blur of Form VI Niman and Jar'Kai, his Balanced Purple and Natural Red blades leaving a trail of cauterized blaster barrels and severed weapon-arms. He utilized Force Repulse to clear entire hallways and Force Stasis to freeze their security droids.
By the end of the week, the entire 3,500-member organization was incapacitated. Revan stood before the Quarren leader, who was currently pinned to the wall by a localized Force Grip.
"Try to be nice," Revan whispered, the 12th Doctor's cold authority radiating from him. "If you return to this line of work, I will return. And when I return, I won't be bringing a screwdriver. I'll be making your retirement... permanent. Laser sword through the heart. Tidy. Final. Understood?"
He handed the bruised syndicate members over to Manaan Planetary Security for "Processing."
The Dispatch to the Green Gremlin
Before leaving the system, Revan performed one final act of "Administrative Sass." He packed the 5x Dark Kyber Crystals he'd purified on Korriban into an express delivery canister.
"R2-Eleven, ensure this reaches Grandmaster Yoda personally," Revan commanded. "Attach the note: 'Found some spicy rocks in the graveyard. I've balanced them for you. Try to be nice, don't eat them, and maybe tell the Council that my sabbatical is 70% complete. - The Auditor.'"
The Sovereign's Nap: End of 90 BBY
As the Black Pearl lifted off from the azure waves, snapping into hyperspace for the next leg of the journey, Revan slumped into his chair. Calculus was on his lap, Theorem was on his shoulder, and the 'Vintage' spice-latte machine was frothing a celebratory cup.
"Status, Cortana," Revan whispered.
"Manaan is audited. The Tide-Turners are in jail. The 4.3 Billion credits are stable," Cortana reported. "We are 75% through the Twenty-Year Itinerary. Next stop for 89 BBY: Taris. The archaeology of the lower city."
"Brilliant," Revan yawned, the chair reclining to the Calculated Nap Angle of 134.5 degrees. "Adventure is the journey, D6. And 90 BBY was a masterpiece of deep-sea fishing and dismantling Quarren egos."
He closed his eyes. The Maverick was at rest. The "Golden Age" continued its slow, binary drift, but in the heart of a black freighter, the lattes were warm, the cats were purring, and the Auditor was dreaming of city-spires and ancient masks.
"Try to be nice, 89 BBY," Revan murmured. "I'll see you at the ruins."