The bridge lighting dimmed by a fraction as the holotable expanded its projection.
Geonosis grew from a simple rotating sphere into a layered battlefield display — terrain grids sharpening, elevation lines rising in translucent amber ridges across desert plains. The burnt-orange planet now bore the scars of intelligence overlays: blinking markers, red hazard rings, moving vectors calculated in precise intervals.
Kael stood at the edge of the table, hands clasped loosely behind his back.
The arena complex dominated the projection.
A circular structure carved into stone, highlighted in pulsing blue — last confirmed Jedi transmission source.
Beyond it, darker zones lit up in steady crimson: Separatist droid foundries, sprawling across canyon networks like mechanical infestations. Energy readings spiked over multiple factory hubs. Conveyor lines and assembly spires were faintly visible even in tactical abstraction.
Further north, three massive icons hovered in orbit.
Trade Federation core ships.
Their spherical silhouettes rotated slowly in holographic orbit, labeled and bracketed in red. Defensive perimeter fields radiated outward from them in calculated arcs.
Additional red symbols flickered across the surface.
Ground-to-air batteries.
Anti-aircraft cannons.
Turbolaser emplacements embedded into canyon walls.
The battlefield did not look chaotic.
It looked prepared.
A clone naval officer stepped forward from one of the sunken crew pits.
"Enemy anti-air emplacements concentrated along these ridgelines," he reported, gesturing to a series of blinking arcs. "Likely automated, but capable of sustained fire. Core ships maintaining orbital dominance."
At his signal, the hologram shifted again.
Blue icons appeared at the periphery of the projection.
Jedi starfighters.
Delta-7 interceptors grouped in strike formations.
"Jedi strike force en route to engage orbital defenses," another officer added. "Objective: breach perimeter barrier and create landing corridor for Acclamators."
Yoda stood opposite Kael at the holotable, the holographic light casting shifting patterns across his small frame.
"Rescue the Jedi, we must," he said, voice steady and deliberate. "Trapped, they are."
A secure fleet channel activated with a faint chime.
Holographic figures materialized around the table — life-sized projections rendered in pale blue light.
Five clone commanders appeared from separate Acclamator bridges across the fleet.
One of them — designation CT-411 — stood slightly forward in his projection, yellow command markings visible even in holographic distortion. His posture was rigid but composed, eyes focused and analytical.
Additional figures flickered into view behind them — armored silhouettes distinct from standard troopers. Clone commandos. Their armor bulkier, more specialized, visors darker and angular. They stood at their respective command stations, awaiting instruction.
For a moment, the bridge felt crowded with identical faces.
Different positions.
Same origin.
"Fleet synchronization confirmed," CT-411 said evenly through the holocomm. "All vessels are prepared for coordinated insertion."
CC-4377 stood at Kael's right, silent but attentive.
A clone commando commander spoke next, his voice lower, clipped.
"Recon suggests multiple droid divisions positioned between the arena and primary foundries. Heavy resistance expected."
The holomap zoomed slightly inward, highlighting the arena and surrounding canyon structures.
Yoda studied it in silence.
"Strike fast, we must," he murmured. "Overwhelming force, before they regroup."
Another holographic commander gestured toward a highlighted zone east of the arena.
"Proposed primary landing perimeter here," he said. "Establish a central operations hub. Deploy walkers and artillery to secure the staging ground."
CT-411 added calmly, "Simultaneous LAAT insertion to arena for immediate extraction."
The projection displayed potential approach vectors — blue arcs swooping low between canyon ridges toward the circular arena structure.
Kael watched the movement of light across the map.
The arena.
The foundries.
The core ships are looming above.
The Jedi strike force icons are blinking at the edge of the orbital plane.
He could feel it now.
The scale.
This was no skirmish.
This was a planetary assault.
Yoda lifted his gaze slowly from the projection.
"Break their barrier, the starfighters will," he said. "Land, we must, before they adjust."
The holographic commanders nodded in disciplined acknowledgment.
The holotable pulsed once more, zooming outward to show all twelve Acclamators approaching Geonosis in converging vectors — a formation built not for intimidation, but for precision.
The Clone Wars had not yet been named.
But here, on this bridge — beneath sterile light and against the hum of hyperspace — they were being designed.
The holographic projection of Geonosis rotated slowly above the holotable, red markers pulsing across canyon ridgelines and factory sectors.
Kael stood with one hand resting lightly against the edge of the table, studying the anti-air arcs sweeping across the projected landing corridors.
"Rescuing the Jedi is obvious," he said at last, voice calm but thoughtful. "But getting to the surface is another problem entirely."
He looked up at the naval officer in the lower pit.
"If those batteries are live, can the ships land clean?"
The officer straightened slightly. "They're heavily armored, General. Reinforced hull plating. Built for atmospheric assault. They can take punishment."
Kael nodded once.
"Can," he said. "But should they?"
A few heads turned toward him.
He stepped closer to the table and gestured subtly.
The projection shifted, replacing the planetary view with a scaled model of an Acclamator descending through simulated anti-air fire. Red bursts flared along its projected hull.
"If we bring the carriers in first," Kael continued, "we're gambling sixteen thousand men per ship on how accurate those guns are."
The room quieted.
He flicked his fingers slightly, and blue icons — LAAT gunships — appeared ahead of the descending vessel.
"What if we send these first?"
The model updated — gunships diving low across canyon walls, blaster fire lighting up ridgelines.
"Early deployment," Kael said. "Sweep the anti-air positions before the carriers enter their optimal firing range."
He looked around the table.
"It lowers the risk to the Acclamators."
There was a brief pause.
"And raises it for the first wave," CT-411 said evenly from his holographic projection.
Kael met his gaze.
"Yes."
The honesty settled into the room.
A naval officer leaned slightly toward his console. "If we stagger carrier descent behind gunship suppression windows, exposure time decreases."
"But if the first wave gets chewed up," another commander added, "the ships are still vulnerable."
Kael nodded. "That's the problem."
Silence hung for a moment as the projection continued to rotate.
Then CC-4377 spoke.
"General."
Kael glanced toward him.
"What if we don't send them all at once?"
The table shifted again as 4377 reached forward, adjusting the projection with a gloved hand.
"Wave one," he said, dividing the blue gunship markers into smaller clusters. "Focused suppression. Anti-air batteries only. No extraction attempt."
Red markers dimmed under simulated fire.
"Wave two follows immediately," he continued. "Different vector. Straight for the arena."
The projection updated — gunships splitting off toward the circular complex.
"They extract the Jedi while the enemy's still reacting to the first wave."
He moved the third set of blue icons into holding position above projected landing zones.
"Wave three stays flexible. Covers the carriers. Guides them into secured landing corridors once suppression takes hold."
The simulation ran.
Blue waves struck in sequence rather than simultaneously. Red response vectors faltered, overwhelmed by shifting targets.
CT-411 leaned slightly closer to his own projection.
"That creates sustained pressure," he said. "Instead of a single burst."
A commando officer added, "Confusion window widens. Droid response coordination drops."
Kael studied the revised model.
It was cleaner.
More deliberate.
"And we're not sacrificing everything in the first thirty seconds," he said quietly.
"No, General," 4377 replied. "We're making them react three times instead of once."
Another commander nodded. "Carrier descent begins during wave two engagement. That puts walkers on the ground as extraction concludes."
The holomap displayed the sequence in motion.
Starfighters breaking the orbital line.
Wave one suppression.
Wave two arena strike.
Wave three escort.
Acclamators descending through fractured air defense.
Kael folded his arms loosely across his chest.
"It reduces risk," he said. "Doesn't eliminate it."
"No," CT-411 agreed. "Nothing will."
There was no bravado in that.
Just a fact.
Kael looked around the circle of holographic officers.
"Anything we're missing?"
A naval tactician cleared his throat. "Orbital turbolaser support timed to coincide with first wave impact could soften ridge batteries."
"Do it," Kael said immediately.
Another commander added, "Jedi starfighters can draw initial anti-air targeting before wave one hits."
Yoda finally spoke, voice calm but firm.
"Diversion, they will provide. Trust them, you should."
Kael inclined his head slightly.
"Then we synchronize it," he said. "Starfighters break the line. Orbital fire suppresses outer batteries. Wave one hits. Wave two extracts. Wave three secures. Carriers descend during transition."
He glanced at CC-4377.
"You comfortable running the ground coordination once we're down?"
"Yes, General."
No hesitation.
Kael nodded once.
"Good."
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
The holographic Geonosis rotated in silent expectation.
Yoda's eyes moved slowly across the commanders — identical faces lit in pale blue projection, standing in different ships yet unified in purpose.
"Together," he said softly, "stronger, we are."
Kael didn't smile.
But something settled inside him.
Not certainty.
Resolve.
"Execute on reversion," he said.
Outside the narrow viewport, the blue tunnel of hyperspace began to fracture into scattered stars.
Geonosis was no longer a projection.
It was seconds away.
And the Republic's first coordinated assault had just become real.
The holotable dimmed as the final holographic commanders vanished.
Only Geonosis remained suspended in amber light, its desert surface turning slowly beneath red threat markers.
"Fleet channel secure," a naval officer reported from the lower pit. "All vessels aligned. Reversion imminent."
The blue tunnel of hyperspace outside the dorsal viewport began to thin, streaking light, fragmenting into scattered stars.
CC-4377 gave Kael a short nod.
"I'll prepare the men, General."
"Understood," Kael replied.
The commander departed.
Soon, only Yoda and Kael remained near the center of the bridge, surrounded by clone naval officers already shifting into combat posture.
"Two minutes to realspace."
Yoda's small silhouette was still against the glow of the planet.
"To the arena, I will go," he said quietly.
His hands remained folded in his sleeves.
"With the clones. Rescue our fellow Jedi, we must."
He turned his gaze upward toward Kael.
"And you… what will you do?"
Kael didn't hesitate.
"With respect, Master," he said, "I won't be accompanying you."
Yoda's ears tilted slightly.
"Hmm."
"I'll lead the assault against the droid army," Kael continued. "If we don't fracture their lines, extraction won't hold. They'll regroup."
A faint tremor passed through the hull.
Yoda watched him closely.
"Leave the arena, you would," he said, not accusing — observing.
"I'll fight where the line is weakest," Kael replied. "And I won't send men somewhere I'm not willing to go myself."
That made Yoda still.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
"Strong… your loyalty is," he murmured at last.
"But dangerous, it can become."
Kael's visor reflected the shifting hololight.
"They're not expendable," he said quietly.
"Expendable, no," Yoda agreed. "Men, they are."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"But careful you must be."
The ship shuddered again.
"Attachment," Yoda continued, voice lower now, "clouds the mind. Narrow it makes your sight."
Kael said nothing.
"A general sees the battle," Yoda said. "Not only the soldiers beside him."
A beat passed.
"Care for them, you should."
Another.
"Rule you, they must not."
The words settled heavily between them.
Kael inhaled slowly.
"I understand."
Yoda studied him.
"Different, you are," he said softly. "Raised among warriors. Taught among Jedi."
A faint hint of something — not quite a smile — touched his expression.
"Balance, you walk."
The hyperspace tunnel fractured into white.
"Reversion in ten seconds!"
Yoda turned toward the exit.
"Come," he said. "War waits for no one."
They walked together toward the hangar decks.
Clones in bright white armor moved past them in ordered formation, boots striking steel in unified rhythm. Gunship engines were already spooling, their hum rising through the structure.
As they descended the corridor, Yoda spoke once more — without looking back.
"Trust the Force," he said.
"And trust your men."
A pause.
"But remember…"
His ears angled slightly.
"Men… they are."
"Yours… they are not."
The ship tore free of hyperspace.
Stars snapped into place.
And Geonosis filled the viewport ahead.