The transition from the relative peace of the Outer Rim back to the high-pressure bureaucracy of Coruscant was a localized stress-test that Revan Shan met with a freshly pressed academic tunic, a double-shot espresso, and a very particular brand of 12th-Doctor-esque grumpiness. As 64 BBY dawned, the Jedi Council finally decided that the "Maverick Master" and his Lasat Padawan had been auditing the stars for far too long without a proper oversight check.
Revan sat in the Black Pearl's lounge, reclined in his Sovereign's Command Chair at a thirty-five-degree "Pre-Inquiry Indifference" angle. Calculus was purring on his chest, while Theorem was industriously auditing the structural integrity of Jaro Tapal's massive, reinforced boots.
"They want to talk to you, Jaro," Revan murmured, his voice a blend of dry rasp and whimsical curiosity. "Without me. According to my 3rd Doctorate in Sentient Sociology, they're looking for a rhythmic stutter in your loyalty. They think I'm teaching you how to be a pirate instead of a monk. Try to be nice, Jaro. Do good. But don't fail to be kind to their confusion. They've forgotten that the Force doesn't have a dress code."
Jaro Tapal, now twenty years old and a towering mountain of purple fur and resolve, adjusted his utility belt. "I will tell them the truth, Master. That you are teaching me to see the ledger of the galaxy clearly."
The Council Inquiry: The Weight of the Wall
In the High Council Chamber, Jaro Tapal stood alone before the twelve Masters. Grandmaster Yoda sat center, his eyes narrowed in interest. Master Sol, having retired from the field, watched from the side as an observer.
"Padawan Tapal," a Cerean Master began. "Your Master's methods are... unorthodox. He bypasses standard Temple protocols. He utilizes ancient training droids with aggressive sub-routines. Tell us, how do you view Revan Shan as a Jedi?"
Jaro didn't hesitate. He spoke with the tectonic gravity of his heritage. "My Master is an Auditor. He does not see the galaxy as a collection of rules, but as a rhythmic flow of variables. He has taught me that a Jedi's first duty isn't to the Senate, but to kindness. He has shown me that being 'strong' is a localized failure if you aren't 'aware'."
"And his training?" Yoda rasped. "Overkill, some say it is."
"According to my Master, the shadow doesn't care about fair play," Jaro replied, his voice echoing. "He trains me to be the wall that stands when everything else burns. If that is overkill, then the Jedi archives are remarkably under-prepared for reality."
The inquiry ended in a long, rhythmic silence. Jaro had defended the Maverick not with rebellion, but with logic.
The Takodana Sabbatical: To Maz's Castle
"Right then!" Revan cheered as Jaro returned to the ship. "You survived the gremlins. According to my heart, that deserves a localized reward. Cortana, set course for Takodana. We're visiting an old friend who has been 'old' since the Force was a toddler."
The Black Pearl breached the atmosphere of the lush world, docking near the ancient stone castle of Maz Kanata. As they stepped down the ramp, Revan was already sassing the local protocol droids.
Maz met them at the entrance, her goggles clicking as she looked Jaro up and down. "A Lasat! And a big one. You sure know how to pick 'em, Revan. He looks like he could hold up the ceiling if the party gets too loud."
"Maz, darling," Revan smiled, his 11th Doctor spark returning. "Meet Jaro. He's my rhythmic anchor. We're here for the two Gs: Gambling and Galactic-grade beverages."
The evening was a masterpiece of relaxation. While Jaro sat at a high-stakes Sabacc table—utilizing his Force Precognition not to cheat, but to "audit the probability of the deck"—Revan sat with Maz, drinking a vintage blend and discussing the state of the 3 Billion Secret Credits and the Safe House Project.
"Seventeen sites, Maz," Revan noted, winking as he won a localized side-bet. "All tidy. All ready. Jaro knows where they are. He's the backup ledger."
The Synthesis Audit: Four Droids and ten Remotes
Upon their return to Coruscant, the sabbatical ended, and the "Survival Curriculum" resumed. Revan activated four Mark IV Sith Training Droids and ramped the Ahsoka Protocol to its maximum of 10 remotes.
"Niman is the glue, Jaro!" Revan shouted over the rhythmic hiss of the Saberstaff. "III for the defense, V for the strike! I want a cohesive combat equation!"
> The Cohesion Constant (\Psi_{c}):
> By his internal audit, Jaro Tapal stood in a whirlwind of blue and red light. He caught a blaster bolt with his palm using Tutaminis, channeled that energy into a Force Repulse that staggered two droids, and used his Saberstaff to deactivate the third droid's primary logic-core while parrying the fourth with a Form II Makashi foot-pivot.
>
"Statistical perfection!" Revan cheered. "Now, back to the rooftops! Theorem is bored, and your Form IV mobility needs a rhythmic refresh!"
Rooftop Tag: The Geometry of the Under-city
The day ended with their mandatory game of tag across the staggering, mile-high skylines of Sub-level 1313.
"Catch me if you can, Jaro!" Revan laughed, backflipping over a localized cooling duct. "Remember! Use Force Enhance to audit your trajectory! Don't just jump; be the jump!"
Jaro lunged after him, his massive frame moving with the fluid grace Revan had beaten into him. He integrated Form IV Ataru acrobatics with the precise, energy-saving footwork of Form II Makashi. He was becoming a Maverick—a Jedi who could fight in a ballroom or a shipyard with equal efficiency.
The Professor's Lecture: The Sovereign Survivalist
In the quiet hours, the lectures continued. Revan didn't just teach Jaro how to be a Jedi Master; he taught him how to be the last variable standing.
"Today's lecture: Planetary Infrastructure and Slicing the Grid," Revan noted, projecting a holographic map of a standard Republic star-destroyer. "According to my 4th Doctorate in Advanced Engineering, a ship is just a very large droid that you can live in. If you know where the rhythmic stutter is in the life-support, you control the ship. Your Kyber Green Sonic Screwdriver is your best friend here. Don't cut the day, Jaro. Fix it."
The Sovereign's Nap: End of 64 BBY
The year concluded with the Black Pearl ghosting through Coruscant's upper ionosphere. Revan was slumped in his chair, Calculus sleeping on his lap. Jaro Tapal sat cross-legged on the floor, using his Sonic to repair a localized short in a training remote, his face glowing with a quiet, scholarly peace.
"Status, Cortana," Revan whispered.
"The Council has noted Jaro's 'Integrity' and 'Loyalty'. The 3 Billion credits are stable," Cortana reported. "The Safe House Project is 100% operational. And I've flagged a localized report from Naboo: Sheev Palpatine has officially become the junior aide to Senator Vidar Kim. The shadow is climbing the ladder, Master."
"Climbing," Revan yawned, the chair reclining to the Calculated Nap Angle of 134.5 degrees. "Adventure is the journey, D6. And 64 BBY was a masterpiece of Lasat logic and meeting old friends. Try to be nice, 63 BBY. I have a feeling the audit is about to get a lot more political."
He closed his eyes. The Maverick was eighty-three, his Padawan was a mountain of blue light, and the galaxy continued its slow, binary drift.