"Binalie certainly can't get the plant up and running any faster," he

said. "Maybe they want him to act as interpreter with the Cranscoc..." heseems to understand that skin-coloration language of theirs. "More likelythey're seeking a hostage."

"Possibly," Doriana nodded. "That could be useful, providing Roshton is willing to play along."

"You will make it your business to see that he does," Sidious saidbluntly. "That goes for that Jedi, Tories, as well. I don't want either ofthem making trouble until the Republic task force arrives." Doriana blinked."You knew about that?"

Another thin smile. "Did you think you were my only source of information, Doriana?"

"Of course not, my lord," Doriana said hastily. Still, he couldn't helpbut feel a touch of disappointment. He'd rather hoped to deliver thatparticular tidbit of news himself.

"But information is useful only when someone is in position to exploit it," Sidious continued. "And we cannot allow either the Republic or Separatist forces to damage Spaarti Creations."

"I understand, my lord," Doriana said.

"Good," Sidious said. "Then carry out your orders." The image vanished.Doriana put the holoprojector away. The droids had finished forming theircordon around the mansion, the a.s.sault droids holding down the building'scorners and entrances while the droidekas rolled watchfully around theperimeter. It didn't look like anyone was going to be getting in or out anytime soon.

His eyes drifted across the grounds, wondering how Lord Binalie'semployees were reacting to the sudden invasion. But the only person he couldsee was a quarter of the way around the mansion to the east: a gardener on hisknees beside one of the sculpted bushes. Apparently the more observant workershad reacted by hustling themselves out of sight. The gardener looked up,mopping his forehead with a gloved hand...

And Doriana stiffened. That was no gardener.

It was Commander Roshton.

Hissing a curse under his breath, Doriana headed off toward Roshton,walking as quickly as he could without drawing undue attention from thedroids, Darth Sidious's warning echoing through his mind. Roshton, the idiot,was going to ruin everything.

"No," Lord Pilester Binalie said firmly. "I'm going to simply sit by andlet those monsters take up residence in my plant." "I understand yourfrustration," Jafer Tories soothed. "But I'm sure they're not doing any damagein there. They could have destroyed Spaarti from orbit if that was what they'dwanted."

"I know what they want: the same thing Doriana and the Republic want,"Binalie growled. "The point is that the longer this silly dance goes on, thegreater the chance someone will eventually get careless. When that happens,it'll be the end of Spaarti Creations."

"But the Republic's going to send help, aren't they?" Binalie's twelve- year-old son Corf spoke up from his chair at the other corner of the desk.

"Probably," Binalie told the boy grimly. "But I'm starting to think thatmore soldiers are the last thing we want." Tories frowned. "What do you mean?""Just what I said," Binalie growled. "The Republic and Separatists are like apair of dokriks fighting over a bone. What does it matter which of them is incharge when the plant gets destroyed?" "So what do you suggest?" Tories asked.

Binalie's lips compressed briefly. "That we get the Separatists outourselves, now, before Roshton and his clone troopers can regroup to attack.Bribe them, blackmail them-even help them finish their work if they'll promiseto get out afterward."

"You can't be serious," Tories protested, frowning. There was a whisperof warning from the Force; a sense of alien minds nearby. "Why not?" Binaliecountered. "What are you worried about, Roshton's blatherings about treason?

That's nothing but a bunch of-" He stopped as heavy footsteps suddenly sounded outside the office door. "What in the world?" he muttered, starting to rise to his feet.

With a crash, the door was shoved violently inward, the warped panel slamming to the floor and bouncing another two meters across the room.

Binalie dropped back into his chair with a curse, his hand darting toward

one of the desk drawers. "No!" Tories snapped, reaching out with the Force to lock the other's arm in place.

He was just in time. Half a second later the monstrous metal shapes of

two large combat droids strode into the room, the heavy blasters permanentlyattached to their forearms lifted and ready. Their heads and weapons swungonce around the room as they searched for danger, and then they moved back toflank the doorway in guard positions.

Through the opening stepped a pair of brightly dressed Neimoidians. Theone in the lead wore the blue and purple robes and black miter of a unitcommander, while the other wore a simpler outfit of red and purple. Hisheadgear was blue, with four twisted horns atop it. "Good day, Lord Binalie,"the commander said in a stilted voice. "I trust we do not intrude?"

Tories looked a silent warning at Binalie, got merely a glare in return.But the other brought his hand up-empty-and let it drop onto the desktop. "Ofcourse not," he growled sarcastically. "It's not like I have any actual workto do. What do you want?"

"Permit me to introduce myself," the spokesman said, sending glances atfirst Tories and then Corf. "I am Tok Ashel, Commander of the CartaoExpeditionary Army." He gestured to his companion. "This is Dif Gehad, MasterCreator of New Products."

"And what new products are you trying to build in my factory?" Binalieasked. Gehad started to speak. -"Not so quickly, Lord Binalie," Ashelinterrupted.

"First, let us have the rest of the introductions." His large red eyes turned pointedly to Tories.

"I'm Corf Binalie," Corf spoke up before either of the two men could answer, his voice strong and defiant. 'This is my private tutor, Master Jafer.

Does this mean there's no school today?"

Ashel made a sound like crumpling tin wrap. "It may, young one," he said, eyeing Tories. "What do you teach, Master Jafer?

"A little of everything," Tories told him. "Ethics, wisdom, the ways of life."

"Ah-a philosopher," Ashel said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand and turning back to Binalie. "Now, to business." He gestured to Gehad.

"As you have surmised, we wish to use Spaarti Creations to work for us,"the Master Creator said, his voice neat and precise. "But thus far we havebeen unable to restructure the a.s.sembly lines. You will tell me now how to dothat."

Binalie shook his head. "I can't."

"Do not speak foolishness," Gehad warned. "You are director of this facility. You know everything there is to know about it."

"Of course I do," Binalie agreed. "Including what can and cannot be done.

Only the Cranscoc twillers can manipulate the fluid tooling system." He lifted his eyebrows at Gehad. "I take it they haven't been willing to do so?"

"It was the ruins of our vehicles on the south lawn," Ashel said. "We now know about that taboo and have moved to correct it."

"But we do not intend to be stymied in that way again," Gehad added. "So I repeat: you will tell me how we may change the tooling ourselves."

"And I repeat, I can't," Binalie said. "But there are things I can do to help. I'd like to suggest a deal that-"

"You will not block us further!" Ashel snapped, flicking his fingers inan odd and probably obscene gesture. "Not you, and not the Republic forceshiding in the tunnel beneath the southern lawn. Oh, yes, we know they arethere-we have tried twice to dislodge them and have now sealed the plant's.e.xit against them. We also know the other end of the tunnel is somewhere on these grounds. Do not deny it!"

"I can't do anything about the Republic forces," Binalie said, starting to sound angry himself. "What I can do, however, is help you..."

"And you will tell us how to restructure the machines," Ashel insistedagain, even more stridently this time. "Or you will regret the consequences."The skin of Binalie's face hardened, and even with the masking influence oftwo alien minds at close range, Tories could feel Binalie's sense harden alongwith it.

Even the invasion of his home and the destruction of his office door hadapparently not put Binalie off the idea of offering the Neimoidians a deal toget them out of his plant. But threats were something else entirely. "And whatexactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"It means this." Before Binalie could do more than inhale sharply, Ashel wrapped his long fingers around Corf's arm and hauled him out of his chair.

"The grub will go with us," the Neimoidian continued, pulling Corf close in front of him. "When you decide to cooperate, you may join us in the plant."

"Let him go," Binalie ground out. He was on his feet now, ignoring the droid blasters suddenly pointed at him. "I've told you already..."

"And do not consider too long," Ashel warned, backing to the door withCorf firmly in tow. The boy's eyes, Tories saw, had gone wide with fear. "Weare patient beings, but we will not be patient forever."

Corf threw Tories a half frantic, half pleading look. But the Jedi hadalready measured the distances with his eyes, and even with the advantage ofsurprise he knew he couldn't take two combat droids before at least one ofthem got off a shot. And that didn't even take into account what other forcesthe Neimoidians might have waiting outside.

Which simply meant he would have to try something else. "Just a moment,"he said primly, standing up. "The boy has two exams to complete today. I willnot permit my schedule to be disrupted." The Neimoidians paused in thedoorway, gazing at him with those expressionless alien faces. Tories stretchedout toward their minds, wondering just how susceptible this species was toJedi suggestion. He'd seldom used this trick, and never before with aNeimoidian. If they didn't buy into his manipulation, he might have to tacklethose combat droids after all.

"The boy will come with us," Ashel declared at last. "If you choose, you may come with him."

"Thank you," Tories said, bowing in proper tutor fashion. Throwing a warning glance at Binalie, he stepped over to join the Neimoidians.

"But bring many lessons," Ashel added as they stepped back into the corridor.

There were, Tories noted, two more of the big droids waiting for them out there. Just as well he hadn't gone on the attack. "Lord Binalie is stubborn, even for a human. You may be with us for some time."

"Don't worry," Tories said, squeezing Corf's shoulder rea.s.suringly. "I have everything I'll need."

The two Neimoidians and their a.s.sault droid escort were still in themansion when Doriana finally reached Roshton. The commander was bending overthe sculpted bush in front of him, his face carefully turned away from thevisitor, puttering away industriously with a set of pruning scissors.

"What are you doing here?" Doriana hissed at him.

"Tendin' the plants, my lord," Roshton said in a quavering old voice, snipping off a couple more leaves.

"Stop it, Roshton," Doriana ground out. "It's me."

Roshton angled an eye cautiously up at him. "Ah-Master Doriana," he said, abandoning both the accent and the phony garden work. "You're just in time for the show."