After spending the night with Padmé, Galahad returned to the Jedi Temple to meet with the Council to get his assignment, as it's important for him to know where he would be assigned to.
As he pass through the main entrance of the Temple, he can feel the atmosphere around it have changed dramatically. And why would it not, just after so many Jedi that have died upon Geonasis, now all of them found themselves shove into a war that they never prepared for.
And of course, with many have been teach they're supposed to be peacekeeper and not soldier, refuse the military appointment and denounce the Council for accepting it.
Galahad have already hear news that there's already multiple Jedi leave the Order even when he burry himself in the paper work and many more wishing to leave if the Council didn't redraw their decision.
But, it's impossible to do anything now other than prepare for the future.
When he enter the Council chamber, Galahad can see that not all of the Council members are present, not even by holograms.
"Masters." Galahad bow.
"Knight Galahad," Windu said as he nodded with Yoda and Oppo Rancisis do the same. "we have a mission for you."
"To Kamino, you will go." Yoda said. "Accompany Master Rancisis, you will."
Galahad looks towards the mention Jedi before turning back and bow his head.
"Your will, I will order them to prepare for departure as quick as possible."
"Good," Rancisis nodded. "Then I will meet you when the fleet is in orbit, as there's still something needed to be discussed."
Giving one final bow, Galahad exited the chamber and made his way toward the Temple hangar. Along the journey, he nodded to the Masters and Knights he passed, their expressions grim and distant.
At last, he reached his destination.
Upon entering the hangar, he moved toward his Delta-7B—its sleek frame painted black with silver lining—waiting silently beneath the high vaulted ceiling.
"R4, set a course for the 10th Corps," he said to the astromech, whose plating bore the same black-and-silver color scheme, as they approached the interceptor. "Make sure we take the fastest route."
R4 let out a sharp series of electronic chirps in acknowledgment, its dome swiveling as it began.
Galahad rested a hand briefly against the cool hull of the starfighter before climbing into the cockpit. The canopy hissed shut above him as the interceptor powered to life, its systems flickering across the display. As R4 being put into the astromech socket in front of him with a metallic click.
A final confirming chirp came through the console as R4 connected to the interceptor.
Galahad ignited the engines; they rose to a sharp whine as the repulsors lifted the sleek interceptor smoothly from the hangar floor. The interceptor angled toward the open sky, slipping out into the endless layers of Coruscant's skyline.
With R4's route confirmed and traffic control clearance secured, Galahad pushed the throttle forward. The Delta-7B surged into the bustling currents of airspeeders and transports, weaving between towers of durasteel and transparisteel as he accelerated to full speed toward his destination.
"R4, contact Marshal Vorn," Galahad said as he swirled around the buildings and traffic. Moments later, the voice of the clone commander came through the comm.
"General," Marshal Vorn's stern voice replied. "What are your orders?"
"Vorn, prepare the men," Galahad said firmly. "We are moving towards Kamino. Load all personnel onto the ships. You are permitted to leave any heavy equipment that hasn't been loaded behind."
"Yes, sir," Vorn replied. Galahad could almost picture the clone standing rigidly at attention, hand snapping to a salute. "I will see to it immediately, General. The men will be ready, and the ships prepped for departure."
"Good," Galahad said, easing back in the cockpit. "Time is critical. Keep me updated on your progress."
"Understood, sir. You'll have reports as soon as we're loaded and ready to move."
The line went silent, leaving only the whine of the Delta-7B's engines as Galahad navigated through the crowded Coruscant skies, the city-planet sprawling endlessly beneath him.
Before long, he could already see the Coruscant shipyard, where multiple Acclamators were beginning to lift from their docks, their massive hulls casting long shadows over the lower spires of the city. The hangars were a hive of activity—clones running to and fro, droids coordinating loading, and the engines of armored transports already humming in anticipation of launch.
Galahad adjusted his trajectory, weaving smoothly between construction cranes and slower freighters as he approached the fleet assembly area. R4's sensors pinged continuously, providing real-time updates on traffic and ship readiness.
The Delta-7B angled toward the row of five Acclamators belonging to the 10th Corps, engines whining as it closed the distance. Galahad focused on the largest of them, the Iron Will, the flagship for the Corps, its massive hull bristling with turrets and landing bays.
"R4, line us up for side-hangar entry," he ordered, keeping a careful eye on the moving transports and the smaller craft weaving around the fleet.
The astromech responded with a series of precise chirps, adjusting the flight path and calculating the approach vector. The Delta-7B slipped smoothly alongside the massive hull, engines throttled to a steady hum to match the hangar's atmosphere.
Galahad guided the interceptor into the open side-hangar, the bay lights reflecting off its black-and-silver fuselage. Clones and droids inside moved efficiently, loading cargo and boarding troops even as the fighter came to a steady stop on the ground.
Galahad exhaled lightly and activated the canopy release, the hiss of the seals echoing in the cavernous bay. He lifted the cockpit hatch, standing carefully on the ramp. Around him, the controlled chaos of the flagship's hangar continued—troopers rushing past, armored transports rolling into position, and officers coordinating the final stages of deployment.
"Come on, R4," he said as the astromech disengaged from the socket and rolled smoothly to the side, dome swiveling attentively. "Let's go to the bridge and see how it's going."
R4 trundled along the hangar floor beside him, sensors scanning and lights blinking, careful to avoid the rushing clones and rolling vehicles. Troopers gave them a wide berth, recognizing the Jedi and his companion as they made their way toward the access elevators leading up to the command bridge.
The elevator doors hissed open, revealing a corridor lined with clones hurrying to and fro, data pads in hand, and officers issuing last-minute orders. Galahad's boots clicked against the metal floor as he strode forward, R4 following closely behind.
At the far end, the bridge awaited—its viewport showing that the 10th Corps already begin its departure as the Acclamators begin to raise from their dock point. The naval officers sound of cordinating the fleet and with the Coruscant Orbital Control for safe passage.
"General," Marshal Vorn said, saluting as Galahad approached the clone standing at the holotable. "All personnel and equipment have been loaded, though we had to leave behind 100 AT-TEs, 70 LAAT, 320 speeder bikes, and 84 AV-7."
Hearing this, Galahad raised a hand to his face and exhaled sharply. Almost all of his efforts to secure the equipment had been wasted, but there was still something that could be salvaged.
"Good," Galahad said as he lowered his hand. "Inform the Jedi Temple that we are departing."
"Yes, sir." Vorn saluted again.
"Tell Master Rancisis that I have important matters to discuss if he needs me," Galahad added as he began to leave the bridge. "Make sure we maintain formation and proceed with maximum speed. I don't want any delays."
Vorn nodded sharply. "Understood, General. The fleet is ready. We'll maintain full speed and keep you updated."
Galahad gave a curt nod and strode toward the exit, R4 rolling faithfully at his side. The hum of the ship surrounded them as they made their way toward his personal chamber, passing officers and clones engrossed in their duties.
Once inside the quieter corridor leading to his quarters, Galahad allowed himself a moment to exhale, the weight of the mission settling on his shoulders. Ahead, his chamber awaited—a small sanctuary of relative calm amid the controlled chaos of the fleet.
"R4, contact Trachta," Galahad said the moment they entered the chamber. "Tell him I need his help."
The astromech's dome rotated sharply, sensors flicking as it connected to the communications network. A series of chirps and whirrs indicated it was establishing a secure channel. Within moments, a holographic image flickered to life above the console: Moff Trachta, seated behind a desk cluttered with star charts and datapads, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"Galahad," Trachta said, inclining his head. "What is it? I'm rather occupied at the moment."
As Moff of the First Sector Army—also known as Azure Hammer Command—Trachta was responsible not only for the First Army, but also for coordinating reinforcements and supplies for the other Sector Armies. That responsibility left him perpetually surrounded by holomaps, logistics charts, and blinking request markers from systems across the Republic.
"I'd like to know if there are any ships available that can be reassign to me," Galahad said without preamble. "We had to leave behind a significant amount of equipment because here wasn't enough time to load everything. I'll transmit the manifest to you."
R4 extended a small interface probe into the console and began uploading the data.
"Hm," Trachta murmured as the list scrolled before him. His brow tightened slightly. "One hundred AT-TEs… seventy LAATs… that's not insignificant, Galahad."
"I know," Galahad replied evenly. "Which is why I'm not asking you to send transports to retrieve them."
Trachta looked up. "Then what are you asking?"
"I want to trade them," Galahad said. "Reallocate the equipment to another Sector Army that needs ground assets. In exchange, I need ships—additional cruisers or at least escort vessels. The 10th Corps is understrength in fleet capacity."
Trachta glanced back down and began working through his terminal, fingers moving quickly across projected controls.
After a brief moment, he looked up again—this time with a faint smirk.
"Lucky you, Galahad," he said. "The 2nd Sector Army and 3rd Sector Army are both critically low on those equipment. Their Moffs have agreed to the exchange."
R4 emitted a sharp confirming chirp as a list of vessels appeared in the air between them, projected alongside Trachta's transmission.
Ten Consular-class cruisers.Four Arquitens-class light cruisers.Two Acclamator-class assault ships—each with a full complement of 156 V-19 Torrent starfighters.
Not ideal.
But for this early stage of the Clone Wars, it was more than he could hope for.
Galahad studied the list only briefly before nodding.
"Fine," he said.
A digital document appeared before him. He placed his palm against the authentication panel and signed, confirming the reassignment of the equipment and acceptance of the new vessels.
"Transfer orders are already in motion," Trachta said. "The ships will detach from their current patrol routes and rendezvous with your fleet along the Correlian Run. You should receive them within forty-eight standard hours."
"That will suffice," Galahad replied.
Trachta's expression hardened slightly. "You've just traded a significant amount of ground superiority for naval flexibility. I assume you have a plan."
"I do."
"Then I hope it works," Trachta said. "I will log this as a strategic reallocation. Try to make it look brilliant in hindsight."
The transmission ended.
Silence settled in the chamber as the fleet finalized hyperspace preparations. Master Rancisis had already boarded the Iron Will, and the last of the pre-jump confirmations were cycling through the command network.
R4 gave a questioning whistle.
"Yes," Galahad said quietly, eyes fixed on the updated fleet roster recalculating on his console. "But for the meantime, we require more ships than those pieces of equipment."
The astromech emitted a softer, uncertain chirp.
A tone begin to echoed through the ship's internal speakers.
All hands, prepare for hyperspace jump.
The deck vibrated subtly as the fleet aligned into formation. Five Acclamators of the 10th Corps moved in synchronized precision, clearing the last traffic lanes beyond Coruscant's gravity well.
Galahad stepped out of his chamber, R4 rolling after him, and made his way back toward the bridge.