The jungle world of Devaron was a labyrinth of ancient stone and aggressive flora, but as the seventh month of 20 BBY bled into its second week, the primary feature of the landscape was fire. From the bridge of the Sovereign's Grace, Revan Shan looked down at the tactical overlay of the Ethec sector.
He was fully armored, his matte-black Beskar-alloy plates drinking in the dim bridge light, the red highlights glowing like dying embers. His hood was pulled low, casting his 23-year-old face into an impenetrable shadow. On his belt, the unique hilts of his magma-red and balanced-purple lightsabers sat next to the newly secured Darksaber.
"Admiral Kaine," Revan's voice was a rhythmic, eccentric hum. "Master Bolla Ropal is currently surrounded by a sea of droids and a collection of freighters that look like they were decorated by a very angry scrapyard. I believe Cad Bane is the interior designer. Terribly tacky, isn't it?"
"General, Master Ropal's position is untenable," Kaine reported, his voice steady. "He has attempted to hold the temple ruins, but he is being squeezed by a pincer movement of B2s and mercenary boarding craft."
Revan sighed, popping a lemon candy into his mouth. "Master Ropal is a wonderful keeper of knowledge, but as a military thinker, he's about as effective as a droid with a faulty logic processor. He's holding that Kyber crystal like it's a religious relic—which it is—but he forgets that relics are much harder to study when you're dead. Admiral, bring the Venators into low-altitude orbit. Let's show the Separatists the difference between a skirmish and an intervention."
The Orbital Hammer: Air Superiority on Devaron
The three 1.2-kilometer Venators—the Sovereign's Grace, the Uprising, and the Phoenix—descended through the atmosphere, their triple-capital shields flaring blue against the friction. Below them, Cad Bane's fleet of repurposed freighters and mercenary frigates scrambled to respond.
"Launch the ARC-170s and Z-95s," Revan commanded. "And tell the bombers to focus on the mercenary hangars. I want Bane's escape routes closed before he even realizes he's in a cage."
The 596th Legion moved with the surgical precision Revan had drilled into them. While the 120 ARC-170s engaged the Vulture droids, the Venators opened up with their 750 improved turbolaser batteries.
This wasn't a standard dogfight. It was a demonstration of overwhelming force. Revan used his gauntlet-mounted Kyber-Quantum processing array to feed real-time firing solutions directly to the fleet's gunners. The mercenary freighters, lacking the reinforced shielding of the 596th, began to disintegrate under the relentless barrage.
"Master Ropal," Revan's voice crackled through the Lanik Jedi's comms. "I suggest you and your clones take cover. It's about to get very loud and quite dusty."
From the heavens, a coordinated orbital bombardment struck the droid lines surrounding the temple ruins. The strike was so precise that it vaporized the droid vanguard while leaving the ancient stone architecture—and Ropal's men—shaken but untouched.
The Rescue of the Crystal
Revan didn't wait for the dust to settle. He took the Star-Sass down personally, the sublight engines screaming at 2700 KPH. He landed in a blur of red and black paint, vaulting from the cockpit before the ship had even fully powered down.
He moved through the smoke like a shadow. A squad of B2 super battle droids attempted to block his path. Revan didn't ignite his sabers. He simply raised his hand—Force Repulse. The droids were flattened into the stone walls as if hit by a physical mountain.
He found Master Bolla Ropal clutching his chest, a Jedi Holocron-shaped crystal glowing in his hand. Cad Bane was nowhere to be seen—the bounty hunter had already sniffed the change in the wind and made for his hidden shuttle.
"Master Shan," Ropal panted, looking up at the hooded figure. "The children... the Holocron..."
"I know, Bolla. I know," Revan said, his voice softening. He used Force Heal, sending a soothing ripple of light-side energy into the Lannik's weary body. "The children are safe. Cad Bane is a persistent cockroach, but even cockroaches can't survive a Venator-class orbital scrub. Come on, my boys are waiting."
As the 596th's LAAT/Is descended to extract the survivors, Revan looked at the crystal. He knew what it was: the key to the list of Force-sensitive infants. He wouldn't let the Sith touch it. But he also wouldn't give it back to the Council just to let them lose it again.
"Eleven," Revan whispered to his droid back on the ship. "I want a digital copy of the resonance patterns of this crystal. If they ever lose the original, I want the backup in our safe."
Side-Mission: The Cato Neimoidia Audit
While the physical Revan was dodging blaster fire on Devaron, a different kind of war was being waged in the high-society vaults of Cato Neimoidia.
In a luxury skyscraper belonging to the Trade Federation, a hooded figure wearing a high-grade Holographic Mask that mimicked the dotty, academic appearance of Dr. John Smith walked through the security scanners. Beside him, Chopper (C1-10P) grumbled a series of insults in binary.
"Patience, Chopper," the 'Doctor' whispered. "We are here for 'Academic Research' into the Shadow Collective's credit laundering."
Utilizing a Holographic Training Droid as a remote proxy, Revan was operating the "Doctor" persona from the bridge of the Sovereign's Grace.
Chopper plugged his Kyber-Quantum Slicing core into a high-security terminal. "Hurry up, you bucket of bolts," Revan teased from parsecs away.
The goal was simple: sabotage. The Shadow Collective—led by Maul and Savage—depended on the Banking Clan to fund their mercenary acquisitions. Revan didn't just want to steal the money; he wanted to make it disappear in a way that looked like a Neimoidian accounting error.
"Cortana, initiate the 'Rhythmic Anchor' protocol," Revan commanded.
Through Chopper's link, the AI began rerouting hundreds of millions of Shadow Collective credits into "Stable Rhythmic Anchors"—specifically, food supply chains and medical foundations on neutral worlds. By the time the bank realized what had happened, Maul's army of bounty hunters would find their paychecks bouncing like a thermal detonator in a canyon.
"Loot secured," Revan noted as the transfer completed. "And we didn't even have to draw a saber. Kindness, Chopper. It's about making the bad people poor so they can't afford to be mean."
The Senate and the Shadow
News of the "Miracle at Devaron" reached Coruscant within hours. In the grand rotunda, the reaction was polarized.
"Master Shan has once again achieved a victory with minimal Republic casualties!" Senator Mon Mothma declared. "His use of 'Maverick' tactics is saving lives that would otherwise be lost to bureaucracy!"
However, the "Hawks" in the Senate, fueled by Palpatine's whispers, saw it differently. They questioned why General Shan possessed three Venators and a private legion while other Jedi were struggling with standard Acclamators.
Palpatine sat in his high chair, his yellow eyes hooded. "General Shan is... efficient," he told a group of Senators later that evening. "But an efficient blade is only as good as the hand that holds it. We must wonder: which hand holds the Maverick?"
The Council's Warning: Shadows and Chips
Revan initiated a priority transmission to the Jedi Council. He appeared on the center projector, his hood still up, the Darksaber hanging visibly on his belt—a subtle taunt that only the oldest masters would recognize.
"Masters," Revan began, his voice dropping the sass for a rare moment of gravity. "The Shadow Collective is real. Maul and Savage are not just ghosts; they are a kingdom in the making. But they are a distraction. Dooku is the puppet, but the puppeteer is still in your backyard."
"The dark side, strong it is around you, Revan," Yoda said, his ears drooping. "Order 66... spoken of it, you have. Found evidence, you have?"
"I've found that the Kaminoans have built a 'Delete' button into your army, Yoda," Revan said bluntly. "I've edited the logic in my own legion, but the rest of the GAR is one encrypted burst away from a lobotomy. You need to look at the Chancellor's emergency powers not as a political tool, but as a Sith ritual. He isn't gathering power for the Republic. He's gathering it for himself."
The Council remained silent. The weight of his words was too heavy for many of them to lift. They were too used to the comfort of the Code to see the decay of the foundation.
"Try to be nice, do good," Revan added, his sassy grin returning. "But never fail to be kind. And it would be very kind of you all to start packing your bags before the roof falls in."
Status: Month 7, 20 BBY
As the week ended, Revan returned to the Black Pearl. He sat in his Command Chair, staring at the Infinite Holocron and the newly copied data from Ropal's crystal.
"Cortana, how are the boys?"
"The 596th is resupplied and morale is at 98%, Master," she replied. "The 'Roughneck' shield upgrades are performing at 400% efficiency. And Master Yoda has sent a message: Calculus has apparently started a 'math club' for the younglings. He refuses to let them leave until they can calculate hyperspace vectors in their heads."
Revan laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "That's my cat."
He looked at the Darksaber. The Shadow Collective was broke, the children's list was safe, and the Sith were getting nervous.
"Month seven," Revan mused. "The war is halfway done. Time to see what else we can loot before the Empire shows up."
| Current Statistics: Month 7, 20 BBY | Value |
| Maverick Trust Credits | 7.8 Trillion |
| Clone Retirement Trust | 245 Million |
| Loot Secured | Kyber Crystal Data, Shadow Collective Assets |
| Bolla Ropal Status | Rescued / Safe |
| Revan's Mood | Calculatedly Rebellious |