The Twi'lek home world of Ryloth was a planet of harsh extremes—scorching sun and bitter darkness—but as the ninth month of 20 BBY commenced, it was the fire of atmospheric friction and turbolaser fire that defined the horizon. The 596th "Maverick's Roughnecks" exited hyperspace with the calculated aggression that had become their signature. They didn't arrive in a defensive line; they arrived in a Jump-Snap pincer, the Sovereign's Grace, the Uprising, and the Phoenix materializing like vengeful ghosts amidst the Separatist blockade.
Revan Shan stood in the center of the Sovereign's Grace bridge, his black Beskar-filament cloak settled heavily over his shoulders. His hood was up, masking his youthful face in shadow, but the faint, sapphire glow of his gauntlet's interface illuminated his smirk.
"Admiral Kaine," Revan said, his voice carrying the rhythmic, witty lilt of a man who found galactic blockades to be nothing more than a poorly placed furniture arrangement. "The Separatist fleet looks a bit... crowded. Shall we help them find the exit? Preferably at high velocity?"
"General, the Munificent-class frigates are repositioning to intercept," Kaine reported, his hands moving across the holographic tactical display. "I've authorized the 2x Dreadnought shielding cycle. They can pound on us all day; we aren't moving."
"Good. Spock, Lara—handle the escort ships. I'm taking a task force to the surface," Revan said, popping a lemon candy into his mouth. "Cham Syndulla is waiting, and I'd hate to be late for a reunion. Twi'leks are very particular about punctuality when their cities are being shelled."
The Skies of Ryloth: Kaine's Masterclass
Above the planet, the space engagement was a symphony of precision. Admiral Kaine didn't believe in the standard Republic tactic of trading broadsides. He utilized the Tactical Core data Revan had provided, performing micro-jumps within the system to bypass the Separatist screen.
The 31,000 dechipped clones of the 596th operated with a fluidity that made the CIS droids look like they were moving through molasses. The ARC-170 pilots, feeling the clarity of Revan's passive Battle Meditation, threaded the needle between Munificent hulls, delivering proton torpedoes with terrifying accuracy.
"Shields holding at 94%," Vice Admiral Spock noted calmly as the Uprising absorbed a concentrated barrage from a Lucrehulk hub. "The Kyber-Quantum processing arrays are predicting their reload cycles with 99.8% accuracy. Fire control, target their port thrusters on my mark."
The Reunion: Revan and Cham
Revan took the Black Pearl down, flanked by four LAAT/Is carrying Commander Check, Commander Ruff, and a contingent of dechipped Roughnecks. They descended through the jagged canyons of the Tann Province, the ship's Automatic Stealth Generator making them invisible until they were meters above the ground.
As the ramp hissed open, the dry heat of Ryloth rushed in. Waiting in the shadow of a mesa was a group of weary Twi'lek freedom fighters. At their head was a man Revan hadn't seen in five years: Cham Syndulla.
Cham stepped forward, his hand on his blaster, his eyes narrowed at the hooded figure in black armor. "You're the 'Maverick' the Republic sent? You look more like a shadow than a General."
Revan pushed back his hood, revealing his 23-year-old face and a sassy grin. "Cham! You still have that 'I'm about to start a revolution' look about you. It's very becoming. Though, I must say, the desert dust isn't doing wonders for your complexion."
Cham blinked, the recognition hitting him. "Revan? You've... you haven't aged a day since the incident at the spice mines."
"Good moisturizers and a very eccentric diet, Cham," Revan quipped, his hands resting on his Westar 35s. "But we aren't here to discuss my skincare routine. We're here because the Separatists are turning your planet into a droid foundry, and I find that terribly rude."
The Ground Assault: Surgical Chaos
The mission was clear: clear the Separatist staging area in the valley and secure the capital city of Lessu. Revan didn't use the standard 'wave of clones' tactic. He used the environment and the tech.
"Check, Ruff—deploy the EMP Gravity Snares," Revan commanded.
As the sea of B1 and B2 droids surged forward, they hit an invisible wall. Revan had designed the snares to create a localized gravity well that amplified the weight of durasteel. The droids didn't just stop; they collapsed under their own weight, their servos screaming.
Revan moved into the center of the chaos, a blur of black robes. He didn't draw his lightsabers immediately. He pulled his Sonic Screwdriver and pointed it at a Separatist AAT tank. Whirrr-click. The tank's internal targeting computer suddenly decided that its own accompanying droid platoon was the enemy.
"Oops," Revan chuckled as the tank began firing on its own side. "I really must remember to recalibrate that."
When a group of Droidekas deployed their shields, Revan didn't flinch. He used Force Repulse, a shockwave of kinetic energy that didn't just push the droids—it shattered the crystalline structure of their shield generators.
"HK-47, if you please," Revan called out.
"Requirement: With enthusiastic compliance, Master," HK-47 stated, charging in with his SaberStaff. The droid moved with the Form VII Juyo data, a whirlwind of red plasma that dismantled droids with terrifying efficiency. "Statement: I find that Twi'lek allies make excellent spectators for my artistic disassembly of these rust-buckets."
Revan cleared the path toward the Separatist command center using Force Storm—not the Sith variety, but a localized ion whirlwind that shorted out every droid in a fifty-meter radius. He was a masterclass in Force efficiency, using Force Barrier to protect Cham's fighters while simultaneously using Lightsaber Throw with his purple blade to cut the legs out from under a trio of spider droids.
Luthen's Gift: The Fondor's Maiden Flight
While Revan was busy on Ryloth, a very different event was taking place in the hidden hangar of an antiquities shop on Coruscant. Luthen Rael stood before three sleek, matte-gray vessels that looked like standard freighters but hummed with the power of a star-core.
He was reading the data-pad provided by Sarah Jane, Revan's assistant.
"The Fondor Haulcraft," Luthen whispered, his fingers tracing the reinforced Phrik-alloy hull. "He built these for me?"
He stepped aboard the ship named Zero. The interior was a masterpiece of Kyber-Quantum informatics. The computer systems weren't just fast; they were predictive, integrated with a Tactical Droid AI that could handle a blockade run while the pilot made a cup of tea.
"Five Kyber crystals?" Luthen muttered, checking the power plant readings. "This thing has more power than a Republic cruiser. And these side-beams..."
Luthen activated the Side Kyber Beams countermeasure. Twin streams of focused energy erupted from the ship's sides, capable of slicing through an interdictor's hull like a vibroblade through flimsiplast.
"John Smith," Luthen said to the empty hangar, a rare look of awe on his face. "You aren't just a donor. You're a madman. A brilliant, terrifying madman."
The acquisition of the three Haulcrafts—Zero, Neo, and Ghost—effectively tripled the Axis Network's capability to move assets right under the Chancellor's nose.
The Aftermath: Month 9, 20 BBY
By the end of the first week of Month 9, the Separatist presence in the Tann Province had been neutralized. Cham Syndulla looked at the piles of droid scrap and then at the dechipped clones who were currently sharing their high-quality rations with the Twi'lek civilians.
"You're different, Revan," Cham said, leaning against a rock. "The other Jedi talk about peace, but they bring a war that never ends. You... you just break things until they work again."
"It's a gift, Cham," Revan replied, handing a lemon candy to a young Twi'lek girl. "Try to be nice. Do good. But never fail to be kind. Right now, being kind means making sure your people can sleep without the sound of marching boots."
Revan walked back to the Black Pearl, his mind already shifting to the next problem. The Maverick Trust was performing at a 500% return, the Clone Retirement Trust was growing, and the Fondor project was a success.
"Cortana," Revan said as he sat in his Command Chair. "Status on the 'Stable Rhythmic Anchors'?"
"Investment in Rylothian agriculture has been secured, Master," Cortana replied. "With the Separatists gone, the ryll-spice trade will stabilize. We've effectively secured the sector's economy for the next decade."
"Good. Now, someone get me a spice-latte," Revan sighed, his hood falling back. "Winning a planet is thirsty work."
| Current Statistics: Month 9, 20 BBY | Value |
|---|---|
| Maverick Trust Credits | 8.2 Trillion |
| Clone Retirement Trust | 260 Million |
| Fondor Haulcrafts | 3 (Zero, Neo, Ghost) - Active |
| Loot Secured | CIS Tactical Data, High-Grade Droid Capacitors |
| Ryloth Status | Sector Neutralized / Twi'lek Resistance Resupplied |