"No more; no less."
"Of course," Roshton agreed calmly. "As do we all."
"Yes," Doriana agreed, glancing out the office canopy at the darkening skylight halfway across the room. "It's nearly nightfall, which is when the Cranscoc do all their serious work.
How soon can I expect your people?"
"The first transport's on its way, with the chief techs and operational schematics aboard," Roshton said. 'They'll be there in an hour."
"Good," Doriana said. "I'll make sure the Cranscoc are ready.
They've already been informed they'll be doing a compete retooling tonight."
"Are you sure a two-thousand-unit contingent will be enough?" Roshton asked, his forehead wrinkling slightly. "I've been doing some research myself, and it looks to me like the plant usually requires over six times that number.
"
"We're supposed to be a caretaker unit," Doriana reminded him.
"It wouldn't look right if we completely repopulated the plant."
"Yes, but..."
"Besides, the majority of those thirteen thousand workers are involved with maintenance, shipping, and raw material movement," Doriana cut him off.
"If the Supreme Chancellor decides to extend the operation, we can bring in personnel to handle those aspects. For now, let's concentrate on our mission: to create and stockpile the cloning cylinders we need to create more troops."
"Yes, sir," Roshton muttered. "You'll have your schematics in an hour, with the rest of the transports following at thirty-minute intervals."
"I'll look forward to seeing them, Commander," Doriana said.
"Doriana out."
He broke the connection, lowering the holoprojector into his lap as he again looked out of the office. It was an eerie feeling, sitting alone in the middle of such a huge room. Rather like being the last living cell in a dead body, he thought.
Across by the area's control platform, a small motion caught his eye. A
group of Cranscoc were wandering around, their footsteps seeming to stutter as they walked. Still beating out their silent music, he decided, perhaps humming along on auditory wavelengths humans couldn't hear.
Strange aliens. Strange technology. But apart from that, a very straightforward job. Lifting his holoprojector again, he punched in a new code.
The connection this time took considerably longer to make.
Doriana forced himself to wait patiently, watching the panes of the distant skylight fading toward black.
And then, with a suddenness that somehow always startled him, the ghostly hologram image appeared. "Report," the hooded figure ordered quietly.
"The Spaarti Creations plant has been cleared, Lord Sidious," Doriana said. 'The first Republic techs will be landing in an hour, with the rest of the techs, workers, and troops arriving during the night"
"How many troops will there be?"
Doriana hesitated. "I'm not sure," he admitted, bracing himself.
Darth Sidious didn't like it when his people didn't have all the answers to his questions. "Palpatine gave that part of the planning to Commander Roshton, and he's been very secretive about his contingent's exact makeup. It can't be more than a thousand clone troopers, possibly as low as five hundred, with Roshton and a few other officers in command."
To his relief, Sidious merely nodded. "Roshton has ambitions of his own, and thinks he knows how to play the game," he said contemptuously. "No matter.
Even a thousand troops will not be a problem. What of the owner and the Jedi?"
"They're not happy, but they've bowed to the inevitable," Doriana said.
'The only problem may come if Tories decides to check with the Jedi Council directly to confirm the order. They weren't enthusiastic about the idea in the first place, as I told you, and if he catches Yoda or Windu at a bad moment, one of them might decide to unilaterally reverse the decision."
"Even if they so dared, all Tories can do at this point is make noise,"
Sidious assured him, a malicious edge to his voice. "No, all is going according to plan. You have done well."
"Thank you, my lord," Doriana said, feeling the warmth of relief and pride trickling through him. "Any new orders?"
"Not yet," Sidious said. "Continue as you are, and allow the plan to work itself out." He smiled sardonically. "Report again when things become interesting."
"I will, my lord," Doriana promised.
The hooded head nodded, and the image vanished.
Taking a deep breath, Doriana stood up, sliding the holoprojector back into its belt pouch. So the chance cube had been thrown, and the game was in motion. The next move would be the Republic's.
He paused in the office doorway, listening to the heavy silence and thinking, as he always did at moments like this, about the incredibly thin tightrope he had chosen to walk. Palpatine had no idea that his trusted aide and advisor was in fact the agent of a Dark Lord of the Sith, working in the shadows to destroy everything the Supreme Chancellor stood for. If Palpatine ever discovered the truth...
He shook his head firmly. No, that would never happen. Sidious was too powerful, and Doriana himself too clever, to ever allow such a useful relationship to be ruined.
He headed across the empty floor, his footsteps echoing from the high ceiling. Binalie would be waiting at the plant's main entrance for the incoming Republic force. The honored representative of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine should be waiting with him.
"It's not fair," Corf groused, throwing a small stone at a group of flutteries darting among a cluster of flowers at the crest of the hill. "How can they just come in and take over like this?"
"We're in the middle of a war," Tories reminded him.
"Everyone has to make sacrifices."
"I'll bet you Palpatine isn't making any sacrifices," Corf said with a sniff, picking up another stone and heaving it after the first.
Tories reached out to the Force, and the stone stopped abruptly in midair. "I understand that you're angry, Corf," he reproved the boy, lowering the stone to the ground. "But that's no reason to take it out on innocent flutteries."
Corf hissed between his teeth. "I know," he conceded reluctantly, looking up into the cloudless sky. "It's just that-well, look; here comes another one.
"
Tories peered upward. In the distance a black speck had appeared, dropping from space toward them. "Look on the bright side," he suggested.
"Maybe it's a transport coming to take them all away."
"Yeah. Right," Corf grunted, stooping and picking up another stone.
Tories watched him warily, but the boy merely began fiddling with it. "Dad would have said something if they were about to clear out. Or at least he'd have started smiling again.
Besides, it's only been a week, and that fancy-pants Doriana said they'd be here for four."
"Master Doriana," Tories corrected him automatically. "And you shouldn't always look on the negative side of things.
Considering the progress they're making, they could very well decide to cut their time short."
"Why would they?" Corf countered. "If they're getting so much done, why quit?"
That was a good question, Tories had to admit. And if he could come up with a good answer, he might actually be able to argue Doriana onto precisely that path.
Think, Jedi, he admonished himself. After all, mediation had been his primary job for the past thirty years. Surely, he could come up with a way to hammer a compromise out of this situation.
And then, suddenly, he had it. Maybe. "Where's your father?" he asked.