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Timothy Zahn

Hero of Cartao 2. Hero's Rise

Coming to a midair halt above the kilometer-wide grassy strip separating the Spaarti Creations manufacturing plant from the northern edge of the Binalie family estate, the heavy cargo lifters began lowering their magnetic grapples. Kinman Doriana couldn't see the ground beneath them from his position - the estate's hills were blocking his view-but he could guess that they were hovering over the last of the shattered war machines that had ended up there in the aftermath of the Separatists' assault on the plant two days earlier.

At least, Doriana thought unkindly, the Neimoidians commanding the occupying droid army had learned not to simply drive cleanup vehicles onto that forbidden stretch of grassland. Glancing around to make sure the copse of trees he was standing in wasn't under observation, he pulled out his holoprojector and keyed in the contact code.

The connecting light blinked on as the device linked first to the local comlink central switching office, then to his personal ship and its special HoloNet node, then across the vast expanse of the Republic to one of the dozen HoloNet nodes on Coruscant, and finally to the private desk of Supreme Chancellor Palpatine himself. Doriana watched the lifters as he waited, wondering if Palpatine would be there or out at yet another meeting.

The image of the most recognized face in the galaxy appeared in the air above the holoprojector. "Master Doriana," Palpatine said, nodding to his advisor. "You have good news?"

"Just the opposite, I'm afraid," Doriana admitted. "The Separatists are still holding Spaarti Creations, and they seem to have finally figured out that vehicles or people on the plant's southern border upset the Cranscoc twillers inside. They're clearing the last of the debris off the grassland now, and my guess is that by tonight they'll be able to get the plant retooled for whatever it is they want to build in there."

"Not a pleasant thought," Palpatine said gravely. "Are you familiar with the D-90 project?"

"No," Doriana said. "Is it one of ours?" Palpatine's lip twisted.

"Hardly. It's an experimental combat droid, reputed to be as tough as the Trade Federation's D-60 assault droid, but more versatile."

"I see," Doriana said. The D-60 was a hulking, man-and-a-half-size version of the super battle droids the Trade Federation had debuted at the Battle of Geonosis. "How much more versatile?"

"Considerably," Palpatine said. "They'll be coordinated in small teams instead of entire army blocks so that they can be used as commando units as well as simple battlefield shock troops."

"An unpleasant thought, indeed," Doriana said. So, the Separatists finally had a new weapon on the plotting board. About time. "You think they've come here to begin production?"

"That's what our Intelligence people believe," Palpatine said.

"Personally, I suspect there are still some system flaws and that they hope to use Spaarti to test and finalize the design. What's the current military situation?" "For the moment, basically stalemated," Doriana told him.

"Commander Roshton and his clone troopers have gone to ground, some of them here on Lord Binalie's estate, the rest dispersed elsewhere. They've been harassing the droids wherever possible, but the Separatists have mostly been staying inside where we can't get at them without risking damage to the plant."

"Which neither we nor they want," Palpatine said. "What about the techs?"

"Binalie has a secret safe room-basically a shielded sub-sub-basementthat connects with the tunnel to the plant," Doriana said. "The techs are hidden down there." "Communications?"

"The Separatists are still blocking the local comm system and the HoloNet node," Doriana told him. "But Roshton's reconfigured their comlinks somehow to get around it. They'll be able to move quickly if they get the chance."

"Then they shall have it," Palpatine said. "A Republic light cruiser is on its way with the necessary firepower to destroy the control ship orbiting above you. Once the droid army is helpless, I trust Commander Roshton won't have any trouble with the Neimoidian overseers and their techs."

"I'm sure he won't," Doriana agreed. "When can we expect this ship?"

"Possibly as early as tonight," Palpatine said. "Possibly not for another three days. It depends on how much resistance they run into along the way."

"Understood," Doriana assured him. "Thank you, Chancellor. We'll look forward to their arrival."

Palpatine gave him a tired smile. The war, Doriana knew, was weighing heavily on him. "Keep me informed."

The image vanished. Doriana broke the connection from his end and looked back at the lifters. They had the blackened hulk of the last ruined war machine in the air now and were towing it back toward the plant.

Planning to dump it elsewhere on the extensive Spaarti grounds, no doubt.

Why the alien Cranscoc insisted that this particular stretch of land-and only this particular stretch-be kept unsullied not even Lord Binalie knew. Doriana watched until the lifters and their burden had vanished behind the jutting roof of the Spaarti plant, then keyed a different code into his holoprojector.

He'd done his official job, reporting the situation to the man whose office paid him.

Now it was time to do the same for the man who gave him his orders. As usual, it took longer for the holoprojector to make this connection. Doriana cultivated his patience, gazing idly at the sky as he wondered what the Neimoidians were doing inside the plant. Now that the south lawn was clear, they would certainly try tonight to get the Cranscoc twillers to retool the plant. The only question was, which direction would that retooling take? To create the D-90 prototypes, as Palpatine thought? Or were they up to something else? In the distance, he could hear the hum of repulsorlifts... And suddenly, four small transports appeared over the hills between him and Spaarti Creations, a squadron of STAPs flying defensive screening around them, everything moving with the urgency of pilots who knew there were snipers in the area. The whole crowd shot past nearly overhead, then angled downward, the transports abruptly splitting formation and swinging into position on the four sides of the Binalie mansion a kilometer away. With the kind of precision only remote-controlled droids could achieve, all four dropped simultaneously to the ground. And from the hatches poured military-straight lines of battle droids.

"Report."

With a start, Doriana jerked his attention back to his holoprojector. The hooded image of Darth Sidious hovered over the small projection platform, his expression unreadable. "Your pardon, Lord Sidious," Doriana apologized hastily. "My attention was distracted."

To his relief, Sidious merely smiled thinly. "The Neimoidians have finally made a move?"

"Of a sort, yes," Doriana said, daring to split his attention between his master's image and the activity going on around the mansion below. The battle droids had been joined on the lawn now by a handful of the hulking D-60 assault droids and a pair of droidekas. Most of them settled into a defensive cordon around the mansion, but four of the assault droids were waiting instead just outside the transport nearest the mansion's front door. As he watched, two Neimoidians emerged from the hatch into the protective square of the assault droids and scuttled across the lawn toward the door.

"It looks like they've decided to have a talk with Lord Binalie," he told Sidious. "Will talking be of any use to them?" Doriana shrugged as the group vanished inside.

"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..." he seems to understand that skin-coloration language of theirs. "More likely they'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 said bluntly. "That goes for that Jedi, Tories, as well. I don't want either of them making trouble until the Republic task force arrives." Doriana blinked.