The fall of the first Core Ship had sent a shockwave through the Separatist ranks, but the battle was far from won. Across the scorched horizon, five more of the massive spheres were beginning their slow, thundering ascent, shielded by a dense curtain of anti-orbital fire. The red dust of Geonosis had turned into a choking fog of war, illuminated by the rhythmic strobing of thousands of blaster bolts.
Sky Lynx stood in his combined mode amidst the charging clone platoons, his frame towering over the standard AT-TEs like a king among foot soldiers. He could feel the vibrations of the earth—the rhythmic thumping of enemy Spider Droids and the desperate frantic retreat of the Geonosian warriors.
"Master Yoda," Sky Lynx rumbled, his neck servos whirring as he surveyed the carnage. "While I am perfectly capable of winning this skirmish on my own, I suspect your clones are beginning to feel left out. Shall we provide them with a masterclass in coordinated demolition?"
Yoda, still standing on the command overlook, nodded slowly. "The spire, the source is. Coordinate the air, you must, Sky Lynx. If the droids reach the upper atmosphere, lost the day will be."
"Consider the sky closed for business," Sky Lynx declared.
Aerial Execution:
With a violent burst of his vertical thrusters, Sky Lynx surged upward, shedding the heavy AT-TE lower half once more. Mid-flight, the Vulture form unfolded with a metallic shriek that drowned out the sound of the nearby explosions. He didn't just fly; he danced through the flak.
"All pilots, listen up!" Sky Lynx's voice overrode the Republic's tactical net, startling every clone in a cockpit. "This is Sky Lynx. You will cease your erratic zigzagging and follow my lead. We are going to execute a 'Magnificent Pincer.' Do try to keep up; I hate having to repeat my genius."
The Vulture-Sky Lynx banked into a steep dive, heading toward a cluster of sonic cannons that were pinning down the 212th Battalion. Behind him, a dozen LAAT gunships fell into a tight V-formation, caught in the wake of his golden thruster trails.
As he neared the cannons, Sky Lynx didn't fire a single missile. Instead, he folded his wings into a razor-sharp profile and pulled a high-G barrel roll. The sonic pulses whistled past his hull, and as he leveled off, his beak-mounted laser cannons let out a synchronized burst. Three sonic platforms disappeared in a blossom of blue fire.
"Now, the ground!" Sky Lynx commanded.
The Panther's Prowl:
Below, the Panther form was living up to its name. Having landed ahead of the main clone line, it moved with a predatory silence that belied its massive weight. It didn't charge the droid lines head-on; it circled, using the jagged rock formations of the Geonosian canyons as cover.
The Panther leaped from a three-story ledge, its four powerful legs absorbing the impact as it landed directly behind a line of AAT battle tanks. Before the droid commanders could rotate their turrets, the Panther's tail-cannon snapped into position.
CRACK-BOOM.
The lead tank's turret was sheared clean off. The Panther didn't stop to admire its work. It sprinted through the gap, its shoulder repeating blasters sweeping left and right, turning the B2 Super Battle Droids into scrap metal. It was a blur of silver-grey, moving so fast that the droid targeting computers were throwing constant "Error: Target Velocity Impossible" messages.
"I see you, Count," Sky Lynx whispered through the Panther's sensory array.
In the distance, a sleek, solar-sailed craft was preparing for departure near a private hangar spire. Sky Lynx's internal scanners picked up a high-density Force signature—the same cold, sharp presence he had felt on the Resolute.
The Final Recombination:
"Enough of this hide-and-seek!"
The Vulture-Sky Lynx plummeted from the clouds, his wings glowing with friction heat. Below, the Panther-Sky Lynx launched itself off the edge of the hangar platform, soaring into the air with a defiant roar.
The two forms met in a spectacular collision of gold and steel. The magnetic locks screamed as they fused back into the Combined Dragon Form. Sky Lynx didn't land this time; he used his momentum to slam his weight into the side of the main command spire. His talons bit deep into the stone and metal, and he hung there like a gargoyle of vengeance.
He craned his long neck around, his golden optics locking onto the fleeing Dooku.
"You leave so soon?" Sky Lynx rumbled, the sound amplified by the spire's resonance. "And you haven't even stayed for the encore!"
Sky Lynx unleashed a full-power blast from his gullet—a beam of pure, concentrated energy that struck the base of the spire, causing the entire structure to groan and tilt. The resulting landslide of rock and metal blocked the main exit of the hangar, delaying the Count's escape just long enough for Anakin and Obi-Wan's speeders to crest the horizon.
"Go, younglings!" Sky Lynx broadcasted to the two Jedi. "I have prepared the stage for you. Do try not to make a mess of it!"
As the Jedi sped toward their destiny, Sky Lynx pushed off the crumbling spire, his wings snapping open to catch the rising heat of the battlefield. He glided back over the plains, watching as the remaining Core Ships were picked off one by one by the Republic fleet.
He returned to his attached vehicle mode and landed softly beside Master Yoda as the suns began to set over the red dust. The first battle was over, and while the galaxy was now at war, Sky Lynx was simply pleased that his new "costume" had performed so magnificently.
"A victory, it is," Yoda whispered, watching the smoke rise.
"A victory?" Sky Lynx scoffed, his nose-art 'Wampa' glowing in the twilight. "My dear Master Yoda, it was a debut. And I believe the audience is still cheering."
The Shadow's Report:
Hours later, the red sands of Geonosis were a distant, bloody memory. Inside the cramped, sterile cockpit of his Punworcca 116-class interstellar sloop, Count Dooku stared into the swirling blue vortex of hyperspace. His hands, steady as they gripped the flight controls, were the only part of him that didn't betray the simmering agitation beneath his aristocratic veneer.
The battle had gone according to plan—mostly. The war had begun. The Jedi were compromised. The clones were deployed. But as he reached out to the holoprojector, his brow furrowed.
A hooded, spectral figure materialized in the blue light. Darth Sidious.
"The Force is with us, Master," Dooku began, his voice bowing with practiced reverence. "The war has begun as you foresaw. The Jedi are spread thin, and the Republic has embraced its new army."
"I sense a disturbance in your composure, Lord Tyranus," Sidious hissed, the voice like a serpent sliding over cold stone. "Speak."
Dooku hesitated, the image of the golden dragon burned into his retinas. "There was... an anomaly. A mechanical beast of immense scale and unknown origin. It did not move like a droid, nor did it possess the limitations of Republic technology. It was as if a titan of myth had been forged from the very ships we intended to destroy."
Sidious remained silent, his hooded head tilting slightly.
"It calls itself Sky Lynx," Dooku continued, his voice dropping an octave. "It manipulated the battlefield with a frightening degree of autonomy and power. It was not predicted in our simulations, Master. It is a variable—one that possesses a personality as formidable as its weaponry. If the Republic learns to harness such a creature..."
"A machine," Sidious interrupted, his voice dripping with venomous amusement. "A machine is merely a tool, Tyranus. No matter how 'magnificent' it deems itself, it is bound by logic and parts. Yet... keep a close watch on this 'Sky Lynx.' If it truly is an unknown factor, we must discover its source. Every legend has a weakness. Find his, or make one."
"As you wish, my Master," Dooku replied.
The hologram flickered and died. Dooku leaned back into his seat, the blue light of hyperspace washing over his face. He remembered the way the dragon had sneered at him from the spire. For the first time in many years, the Count felt a cold shiver of genuine doubt. Sky Lynx wasn't just a machine; he was a force of nature. And nature, Dooku knew, was notoriously difficult to control.