by Timothy Zahn
The two Neimoidians and their assault droid escort were still in the mansion when Doriana finally reached Roshton. The commander was bending over the sculpted bush in front of him, his face carefully turned away from the visitor, 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."
"What show?" Doriana asked. "What are you doing?"
"You'll see," Roshton said, shifting his eyes to the mansion and the ring of droids. "Ever seen a droideka go bounce?"
"Uh... no."
"Then you've got a treat in store." Roshton pulled the front of his tunic slightly back to reveal a comlink hidden behind the flap. "Number seven, stand by... now."
And from the direction of the house came the thundercrack of an explosion. Doriana twisted around in time to see one of the droidekas, still in wheel form, soaring over the heads of its startled companions. Behind it, a blackened hole in the ground trailed a strand of smoke. "Number ten: now,"
Roshton said.
There was a second explosion, this one squarely at the feet of one of the assault droids. The big machine lost its balance and toppled backward to land with a sickening thud. "Where are they firing from?" Doriana demanded, looking around in bewilderment. There were no clone troopers in sight, and precious little cover anywhere nearby for them to be hiding in. "Roshton?"
"Later," Roshton said. "Five and eight: go."
Two more explosions ripped into the defensive line, each sending a pair of battle droids flying across the neatly trimmed lawn. "And here come the soft ones," Roshton added as the brightly colored Neimoidian robes appeared in the doorway. "This should be fun."
"Hold it," Doriana said, squinting across the distance. Nearly hidden in the folds of the robes... "Hold your fire, Roshton," he repeated urgently.
"They've got Binalie's son with them."
Roshton muttered something under his breath. "Rotten cowards," he said contemptuously. "They can't just..."
He broke off, a tight smile suddenly twisting his lips. "Well, well.
Cowards and fools both."
"What?" Doriana asked, frowning.
"They've got Corf Binalie, all right." Roshton gestured. "They've also got Jafer Tories."
He lifted his eyebrows at Doriana. "Like I said. This should be fun."
Two more explosions, the third and fourth by Tories' count, shook the house as Ashel and Gehad hurried them down the entry hallway to the mansion's main door.
"I do not understand," Gehad said nervously as they peered outside.
"Where are they shooting from?" "What does it matter?" Ashel bit out, gesturing to the droids. "Droids! Form a cordon to the transport!" Obediently, the droids abandoned their encirclement positions, scurrying or rolling or lumbering, as their capabilities allowed, toward the vehicle squatting a dozen meters away. They were lining up into two rows, their weapons pointing outward, when another explosion caught the transport's right front corner, bouncing the vehicle a meter into the air and leaving a section of armor plating black and twisted.
"This is impossible!" Gehad shouted. "How do they do this?"
"Ask questions later!" Ashel growled, pointing toward the Spaarti plant.
"Look! Here is our air support."
And impressive air support it was, too, Tories had to admit. A hundred STAPs had appeared in the sky, sweeping in from both east and west as they converged on the Binalie estate.
But the STAPs were still out of range, the droids in their cordon had their weapons and sensors aimed outward as they searched for their unseen attackers, and the Neimoidians were far too preoccupied with their own safety to be watching their prisoners. Time to go to work.
"Now," Ashel said, ungluing himself from the partial protection of the doorway and sprinting between the rows of droids toward the transport.
Grabbing Corf s arm, Gehad started to follow, tugging the boy along behind him. They didn't get far. Reaching forward, Tories caught the boy's other arm and planted his feet solidly into the ground just outside the mansion's doorway. For a moment, Corf was stretched between them like a pull-war cable, and then Gehad stopped and spun around. "What do you-?" he snarled. He never finished his question. In that same brief second, the two combat droids that had been marching along a meter behind them, caught offguard by Tories' sudden halt, arrived at either side of the Jedi. And in a single smooth motion, Tories reached beneath his robe, pulled out his lightsaber, and ignited it.
Gehad gave a little deep-throated scream, letting go of Corf's arm as if he'd been burned and scuttling away from him. Tories gave the boy a quick shove back through the doorway as he slashed the lightsaber across the upper chest of the droid to his left. The brilliant green blade sliced through the thick acertron armor like it was wrapping plastoid, and the top third of the droid slid off and fell with a crash onto the ground. The rest of the machine, caught in a trick of balance, remained standing stolidly upright like a beheaded corpse patiently awaiting further orders. Tories didn't wait to see whether or not it would fall. The assault droid to his right was already reacting to this unexpected threat, twisting at its hips to try to bring its blasters to bear. Tories swiveled to his right to meet it, swinging his lightsaber around and down across the raised forearms above the mounted blasters and dropping them onto the ground. His second cut took off the droid's legs; even before the pieces clattered to the ground, he leaped backward through the doorway into the mansion. "Go!" he ordered the Neimoidians, lifting his lightsaber into guard position. As if in emphasis, another nearby explosion blew clouds of dirt into the air. The two aliens didn't need further encouragement. Turning, they sprinted down the line of droids and scampered into the transport. The surviving droids followed, closing up the cordon neatly behind them. A minute later the transport, joined now by three more of the vehicles, was heading east at high speed. "Wow," Corf breathed.
Tories turned to see the boy gazing up at him, a stunned expression on his face. "You all right?" he asked.
Mechanically, Corf nodded. "I never saw anything like that," he said.
"Just doing what I was trained for," Tories said. With one last look outside, he closed down his lightsaber. "Let's go tell your father you're all right," he said. "And after that," he added grimly, "you may both want to go to your safe room. This could get nasty."
There they go," Roshton commented as the last of the droids piled into the transports. The first vehicle, the one with the Neimoidians aboard, had already left the ground and was clawing for distance, the STAP escort forming up around it. "They won't be trying that again for awhile."
"Probably not," Doriana agreed, his eyes still on the remains of the D-
60s that had taken Tories maybe half a second to turn to scrap. He'd been around Jedi much of his life, but never before had he actually witnessed one in full combat mode.
And for the first time he began to truly see why Sidious wanted them eliminated.
"Estate units, secure," Roshton was saying into his comlink. "City, forest units: stand ready."
With an effort, Doriana pulled his attention back to the military situation. "What do you mean, stand ready?" he asked. "And how did you manage those shots?"
"Don't be dense," Roshton chided. 'That was nothing but a set of strategically placed, remote-controlled land mines. You must not have noticed all the landscaping being done around the grounds the past two days."
"I had other things on my mind," Doriana said tartly, watching the fleeing transports. Instead of taking the straightest route back to Spaarti Creations, they were swinging far to the east. What in?...
And then, he got it. 'They're avoiding the so
uth lawn," he said. 'They don't want to risk anything else crashing on it and irritating the Cranscoc."
"Exactly what I thought they'd do," Roshton said with grim satisfaction.
"Forest unit: secure. City unit: fire at will."
Abruptly, a dozen blaster bolts sizzled up from the northern edge of Foulahn City, blowing apart STAPs and peeling chunks of armor from the transports.
"What are you doing?" Doriana demanded. "You've chased them away. Isn't that enough?"
"No," Roshton said. "City unit: take them down."
The STAPs were returning fire now, and that whole section of sky seemed to be filled with multicolored blaster fire. Doriana found himself holding his breath as he watched the transports dodging and staggering, trying desperately to reach the safety of the plant. If Roshton's zealousness got the Neimoidians killed - or worse, if it panicked them into pulling their droids out of the factory for a counterattack...
And then, something else in the sky caught his eye. Just a pair of specks, but as he watched they grew visibly larger. "Roshton!" he snapped, fumbling out a compact set of electrobinoculars and switching them on. "We've got company."
"Let me see," Roshton ordered, reaching for the instrument.
Doriana twitched it away, pressing his eyes against the lenses.
A single glance was enough. "It's a pair of C-9979 landing ships," he told Roshton, handing over the electrobinoculars. "Looks like all your little stunt accomplished was to persuade the Separatists to bring in reinforcements."
The Neimoidian commander's careless choice of a landing spot two days earlier had enabled Roshton's clone troopers to slow down their troop deployment long enough for the Republic forces to evacuate the Spaarti Creations complex. With this second wave, the Separatists made no such error.
The landing ships put down to the west and northeast of the city, in open territory where no close-in attack would be possible, and immediately began deploying their troops and vehicles.
Roshton had barely enough time to order his men to pull back before the MTT transports and AAT battle tanks made their orderly way through the streets of Foulahn City, along the serviceways of Triv Spaceport, and even into the mostly uninhabited wooded hills west and north of the Spaarti complex. The AATs took up position at official buildings and strategic road intersections, while the MTTs quickly found places to dump their deadly cargos of battle droids, super battle droids, assault droids, and droidekas. By late afternoon, every square meter for fifteen kilometers around Spaarti Creations was in Separatist hands. With one small exception.
"One of the C-9979S is here," Roshton said, tapping a spot on the holomap due west of Foulahn City. "Its droids and AATs are occupying western Foulahn, plus all the territory west and north of the Spaarti complex. The other one's here-" he indicated a point near the Quatreen River where it meandered its way between the city and the Triv Spaceport to the northeast of it"-where they can cover the eastern city and the spaceport. I hear some units have gone a ways up the Quatreen and into Navroc City, too, but I don't have independent confirmation of that."
Tories looked over at Binalie. The other's face looked pale, but that could have just been the lighting. With only limited power supplies available here in the depths of the Binalie family safe room-and with no desire to attract notice from the droids occupying the main house upstairs-Binalie had elected to shut down everything except the permlights. "So where does that leave us?" Tories asked.
"Basically, stuck in here," Roshton said heavily. "My troops are doing what they can to harass the droids, but we don't have nearly enough manpower to push them back to the landing ships. Master Doriana tells me Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has promised help, but that could be as much as several days away.
"And meanwhile, your clones and the droids tear Foulahn City to shreds,"
Binalie growled.
"We're keeping the war out of your plant, aren't we?" Roshton retorted.
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"What I wanted was for the whole cursed war to stay off my world,"
Binalie shot back.
"I'm afraid those choices aren't always ours to make," Doriana spoke up calmly.
"It certainly wasn't Commander Roshton's idea to bring the war here."
"So we just sit here and let them wreck our city?"
"If I were you, I'd focus on the central issue," Roshton said tartly.
"Namely, once the sun sets they'll be able to get the Cranscoc to retool the plant. Once that happens, you can wave goodbye to any hope for your city or your world."
"What do you mean?" Corf asked, huddling a little closer to his father.
"The Separatists are about to launch a brand-new line of assault droids,"
Roshton told him. "Once they get it up and running, every hour they spend in there means a stronger droid army on Cartao. If they're not stopped, sooner or later they'll have enough troops to defeat anything the Republic can spare to throw against them."
He looked back at Binalie. "And at that point, the only way to stop them.
.."
"No," Binalie said flatly. "Don't even think it."
"You think I want Spaarti destroyed?" Roshton asked, his voice icy calm.
"Those new cloning tanks we were building could conceivably turn the war around in a matter of months, and this is the only place we can fine-tune the production quickly enough to get the most efficient design possible. But at the same time, we can't let this new D-90 assault droid line get started, either. I'm sorry, but we're running low on options."
"Just a moment," Doriana said, straightening up and pulling a holoprojector from a belt pouch. "We may have news."
He flicked it on, and an image of an Iktotchi head appeared over the projection platform, its distinctively shaped horns curving down toward its shoulders. The words were too faint for Tories to hear, but suddenly Doriana smiled. "Thank you, General," he said, standing up and walking over to Roshton. "Commander, General FyefeeTiis of the Republic Light Cruiser Whipsaw would like a word with you."
He took the chair beside Roshton, holding up the holoprojector so that both of them could see and hear. Without waiting for an invitation, Tories moved over to the seat on Roshton's other side. Doriana flashed him a look, but said nothing.
"...with ten fully loaded LAAT/i gunships at your disposal," General Tiis was saying as Tories sat down.
"That's only four hundred troops," Roshton pointed out doubtfully. "Not going to do much good against three C-9979s' worth of droids and AATs unless you can knock out their control ship."
"Thank you for the suggestion," Tiis said dryly. "We had in mind to do just that. The gunships will be dropped in five minutes; ETA your position in thirty. We'll commence our own attack on the control ship in fifteen." The image vanished. "How's that going to work with the Cranscoc timing?" Doriana asked.
Binalie shrugged as he consulted his chrono. "Sunset's in about ten minutes. By the time the gunships arrive, it'll be nearly full dark."
"So we have a chance of getting the Separatists out before they can retool," Doriana concluded. "Excellent. What's the plan from this end, Commander?"
"Basically, to engage the enemy," Roshton said, pulling out his comlink.
"Between the incoming gunships and my own clone troopers, we should be able to cause a fair amount of chaos out there. With luck, that may distract the Neimoidians long enough for us to get in through the tunnel and retake the plant."
"You can't do that," Binalie objected.
"We'll be as careful as we can," Roshton said.
"That's not what I meant," Binalie said. "That Neimoidian commander- Ashel-said they'd sealed their end of the tunnel."
"Sealed it so well that a Jedi with a lightsaber can't get in?" Roshton shook his head. "I doubt that very much."
"You'll still be risking damage to Spaarti," Doriana pointed out. "Why not wait until the control ship has been destroyed? The Neimoidians certainly won't put up a fight once their army's out of com
mission."
"Two reasons," Roshton said. "One, because I wouldn't put it past Separatists to start wrecking things as soon as they know they've lost. And two-" he grimaced. "I should be out there with my men, not skulking around down here. The sooner I can get into action, the better."
"That's a pretty poor basis for tactical decisions," Doriana warned. "And Lord Binalie is right: we don't want any fighting inside the plant."
"Tell that to the Neimoidians," Roshton said shortly. "As of nineteen minutes from now, that'll be their decision, not mine."
"Just a minute," Tories said slowly as Roshton lifted his comlink, bits and pieces of an idea starting to swirl around in his mind. A strange, dangerous idea, but one that might work for all that. "What if we could get all the droids to come outside to fight?" "And how do you persuade them to do that?"
Binalie growled. "Neimoidians are cowards-they wouldn't just send their guards marching away. Especially not with a possible tunnel attack to guard against."
"Unless they thought the tunnel was secure," Tories pointed out. "And thought the factory perimeter wasn't." Binalie blinked. "You've lost me."
"Of course," Roshton said, sitting up straighter. "Like I said, they know a Jedi can probably break through the tunnel. They also know, from bitter experience, what it's like to face one in battle."
"So what are you suggesting?" Doriana asked, frowning. "That we put Master Tories outside with your clone troopers?"
"Exactly," Roshton said. "Leading a charge against, say, the plant's east door. They'd have no choice but to throw everything they have at us." Doriana snorted gently. "Sounds suicidal."
"Not for a Jedi," Binalie said, his voice and sense suddenly tense with cautious hope as he saw a chance of getting his factory back intact. "You could do it, Master Tories. I know you could."
"Please?" Corf added, gazing pleadingly at Tories. "Just a moment,"
Doriana put in. "I'm not at all sure I can authorize an action like this. An attack of any sort will put the plant at serious risk."
"It's that, or the plant stays in Separatist hands," Roshton pointed out.
