The transmission was fractured, a flickering hologram of Obi-Wan Kenobi cutting through the static-heavy air of the Resolute's bridge. He was cornered, the red shadows of Geonosis looming behind him, speaking of a Droid Army of impossible scale. Then, the signal died.
Grand Master Yoda stood in the center of the command deck, his small hands resting heavily on his cane. The Force was screaming, a sudden, sharp discordance that signaled the end of a thousand years of peace.
"Master Yoda," a naval officer called out, his voice trembling. "Priority message from the Jedi Council. The situation in the Petranaki Arena is dire. Over two hundred Jedi are surrounded. We are ordered to divert the Resolute and the Acclamator fleet immediately. We are to bring the Clone Army to Geonosis... not for a diplomatic mission, but for war."
Yoda's ears drooped slightly, the weight of the moment etched into his ancient face. "The shroud of the dark side has fallen. To Geonosis, we must go. Save the Jedi, we will."
"To war, then?" a voice rumbled from the deck plates, vibrating with a strange, eager resonance. "How quaint. I was beginning to think this galaxy was nothing but talk and tea ceremonies."
Sky Lynx, still integrated into the ship's systems, had been eavesdropping. In the Research Deck below, his massive, newly-formed body hummed with the stolen power of the ship's reactor.
"Sky Lynx," Yoda said, turning toward the holoprojector. "Dreadful, the coming battle is. Help us, will you?"
"My dear Master Yoda," Sky Lynx replied, his voice carrying that familiar, insufferable arrogance. "You have an army of identical men and a handful of peacekeepers. What you need is a legend. If you want those Jedi to live, open the hangar doors and allow me to show these 'droids' the difference between a programmed machine and a living God of the Air."
Yoda tilted his head, a small spark of hope in his eyes. "Open the doors, we will. Unleash the Magnificent One, we shall."
The Mid-Air Dissolution:
The jump from hyperspace was a violent reentry into reality. Above Geonosis, the sky was a graveyard of fire. The Resolute hissed open its primary hangar, and Sky Lynx didn't wait for a deployment signal. With a roar of Cybertronian-enhanced thrusters, the massive dragon leaped into the abyss, plummeting toward the surface like a falling star.
Halfway through the descent, the dragon's body underwent a violent, rhythmic dissolution. With a thunderous metallic snap, the two halves of Sky Lynx split apart mid-air. For a heartbeat, they were just tumbling blocks of Republic grey and Cybertronian gold, but then the transformation protocols engaged.
The upper half, the LAAT/c, didn't just lock its wings; it breathed. The cockpit-head craned back, the "Wampa" nose art splitting to reveal a jagged, predatory beak. The wide, flat wings feathered at the edges, shifting into massive, metallic primary feathers that caught the thermals of the red desert. The landing struts curved into wicked, clutching talons. This was the Vulture form—a mechanical bird of prey that screamed with the fury of a jet engine.
Simultaneously, the lower half—the AT-TE mass—reworked its very geometry. The original six legs of the walker fused into four powerful, digitigrade limbs built for explosive speed. The massive mass-driver cannon swung around to the rear, elongating into a whip-like, armored tail that hummed with kinetic energy. This was the Panther form. It hit the red sand with a silent impact, its four legs coiling like springs before it launched into a sprint that blurred the vision of any droid in its path.
"Watch closely, little clones!" Sky Lynx's voice echoed across every frequency. "The Magnificent Sky Lynx has arrived to show you the meaning of 'all-terrain'!"
The Descent of the Dragon:
As the Jedi in the arena below faced their final stand, the air above them began to ripple. Sky Lynx, realizing the dramatic potential of the moment, executed a maneuver that made the clones' standard deployment look like child's play.
The Panther form, sprinting at eighty miles per hour, suddenly braked, its armor plates shifting and sliding back into the blocky, reinforced silhouette of a standard AT-TE walker. High above, the Vulture form tucked its metallic feathers, its predatory beak retracting as it smoothed back into the industrial lines of a LAAT/c carrier.
The dropship roared downward, its magnetic clamps locking onto the spine of the walker mid-sprint. For a fleeting second, they looked like a standard Republic transport unit—but then they ascended. With a surge of thrusters, the connected pair spiraled upward, climbing until they hovered directly above the open maw of the Petranaki Arena.
"Now," Sky Lynx rumbled, "observe a true entrance!"
He plummeted. As he fell, the two vehicles didn't just stay connected; they fused and expanded. The wings flared out into massive draconic fins, the cockpit craned forward on a long, sinuous neck, and the four legs of the walker became the crushing talons of a god. He slammed into the center of the arena as the Combined Dragon Form, a twenty-meter titan of gold and steel.
The shockwave of his landing was cataclysmic. His massive talons crushed the Reek and Acklay beasts instantly, pinning them into the blood-stained sand. With a single, sweeping roar, he unleashed a pulse of Energon-tinted flame from his gullet, incinerating an entire legion of Super Battle Droids in a blinding arc of blue-gold fire. His tail-cannon whipped around, obliterating the balcony where the Geonosian elite sat in terror.
The Rescue:
In the sudden, deafening silence that followed the carnage, the Dragon's form shifted once more. With a series of precise, hydraulic hisses, the neck retracted, the wings leveled off, and the beast smoothed itself back into the attached vehicle mode—the LAAT/c securely latched to the AT-TE.
The side hatches of the carrier section hissed open, and the monster-face nose art seemed to grin at the stunned survivors. Mace Windu and the remaining Jedi stood frozen, their lightsabers humming in the dust.
"The Chariot of the Primes has arrived!" Sky Lynx announced, his voice booming with insufferable, magnificent pride. "Do not just stand there with your glowing toothpicks, looking like confused younglings. If you wish to live, climb aboard! I am far more comfortable than those cramped, mass-produced gunships your clones provided. And I promise the view is much better from the winner's circle!"
As the Jedi scrambled into the reinforced hold, Sky Lynx prepared to take flight. He had saved the Jedi, but in his mind, he had mostly just improved the aesthetic of their war.