And as Laytron reeled off a string of helpless curses, Doriana watched as it plunged straight through the plant's roof.

For what seemed like a small eternity, nothing happened. Then, with a horrible series of muffled explosions, whole sections of the roof blew skyward, scattering fragments all around like small erupting volcanoes. The building's walls followed, bulging and cracking and finally shattering into mudslides of rubble. Another, louder explosion echoed across the landscape, and through the roiling smoke and debris Doriana caught a glimpse of a fireball burning into the sky from the western side of the plant.

"They've stopped," Laytron said dully.

"What?" Doriana asked.

The lieutenant pointed wearily across the lawn. "The droids," he said.

"They've frozen up. That last blast must have taken out the landing ship and control matrix."

"I see," Doriana said slowly. "Do we count this as a victory?"

Laytron snorted. "The Jedi might," he said bitterly. "Who knows how they think? But the rest of us certainly won't."

"To save the world," Doriana murmured the old cynic's saying, "we had to destroy it.'"

"That's about it." Laytron shook his head tiredly. "Come on. Let's go find Commander Roshton."

Lord Binalie said very little as the three of them walked across the littered floor, their boots crunching through the remains of what had once been Spaarti Creations. Corf, walking at his father's side, was even quieter.

"I don't know what to say," Tories said softly as they came to a halt beside a mixed group of Cranscoc and human bodies. "Except that I'm very sorry."

"Of course you are," Binalie said, his voice under rigid control. "You're sorry, Commander Roshton is sorry, Master Doriana is sorry. I'm sure the entire Jedi Council would be sorry, too, if they would pause long enough in their search for someone to blame for their part in this."

He turned dead eyes on Tories. "What good is any of it?"

Tories shook his head. "None," he conceded. "I don't suppose there's any chance...?"

"That we can rebuild? With nearly all the twillers dead?" Binalie shook his head. "No. Not for another generation at least. And then only if we can get the Cranscoc to trust us again."

He turned away. "I certainly wouldn't if I were them. Trusting the word of a human is a stupid thing to do."

Tories winced. "I'm sorry," was all he could think of to say.

"I'm sure we'll see you later, Master Tories," Binalie said, not turning back around.

It was a dismissal. "Yes, of course," Tories said. "Good-bye, Lord Binalie. Good-bye, Corf."

Neither of them replied. With a sigh, Tories turned and trudged toward the broken wall where he and the others had come through into the ruined plant, his heart feeling like a lump of blackened and twisted hull metal within him. So, that was that. Despite all his efforts - despite even the efforts of the Republic and Separatist forces, for that matter-Spaarti Creations was gone. Destroyed by carelessness, stupidity, and arrogance.

The carelessness, stupidity, and arrogance of the Jedi.

He closed his eyes briefly against the depth of sadness washing through his soul. Losing the plant was bad enough, but for himself Tories had lost something far more valuable. Binalie was very clearly blaming him personally for the Jedi intrusion, despite the fact that he had had nothing to do with it. And while civility and politeness might eventually come back to their relationship, the trust and friendship that had once been there would probably never return.

And Corf, who had once looked on the old Jedi Guardian with the respect and awe usually accorded to the greatest of heroes, now hated him. And would probably continue to do so for the rest of his life.

He reached what was left of the wall and picked his way over the rubble, an edge of anger stirring through the well of sadness. The Jedi Council could claim as loudly as it wanted that it knew nothing about what had happened here today. But there had been Jedi robes and broken lightsabers among the assault transport's wreckage-Tories had seen them with his own eyes. Someone on Coruscant knew where those Jedi had come from, and who exactly had sent them.

One way or another, Jedi Guardian Jafer Tories was going to track that person down.

The hooded face of Darth Sidious blinked into view above Doriana's holoprojector. "Report."

"The operation has been successful, my lord," Doriana said. "The Spaarti Creations plant has been destroyed."

"And the Jedi?"

"As far as the public is concerned, the blame rests entirely on their shoulders," Doriana said.

"Excellent," Sidious said with satisfaction. "Has anyone expressed interest in examining the assault transport?"

"Commander Roshton suggested it should be done," Doriana said. "But it was a half-hearted remark, focused mainly on seeing whether they could identify who had been aboard from the designs of the various lightsabers in the wreckage."

"Encourage him to continue along that line," Sidious ordered. "By the time he discovers that such an examination is a dead-end, all evidence of the transport's remote-control system will have vanished into the scrap recyclers.

" He smiled thinly. "One of the many small advantages of dealing with Jedi, Master Doriana. With a few small props-a robe, a lightsaber, an unrecognizable body-you can easily create the illusion of a fallen hero."

"Indeed, my lord," Doriana agreed. "I presume the remote operator himself will be leaving Cartao soon?"

"He is already gone." There was a pause, and Doriana had the sense of those unseen eyes probing his face. "You still disapprove of this operation, don't you?"

"I don't disapprove, my lord," Doriana hastened to assure him. "But I am still puzzled. Why deliberately destroy Spaarti? It could be of immense service to the Separatists. Why not keep it intact for experimentation and manufacture?"

"Because by its very nature it is indefensible," Sidious told him. 'The Republic might instead gain hold of it and could utilize it with equal devastation against us."

He shook his head. "No, Master Doriana. With a wild card of this potential, it's far better to take it off the table entirely." He smiled again. "Especially when other long-term advantages can be squeezed from it."

"That part was most definitely a success," Doriana agreed, nodding. "I don't think Jedi are going to be very welcome on Cartao for a long time to come. Certainly not if Lord Binalie has anything to say about it. Even Tories, who had become something of a hero among the people in all this, is pretty well finished."

"And as the economic ripples of Spaarti's destruction spread through that region, so will that attitude," Sidious said. 'The destruction of the Jedi will be only half a victory if the people of the galaxy mourn their loss.

Thanks to your work there today, few in Prackla Sector will shed a even tear at their passing."

"Absolutely," Doriana said, nodding. "Have you further orders, my lord?"

"No," Sidious said. "Stay long enough to clean up any final details, then you may report back to your post on Coruscant." The other's head tilted slightly. "One other matter. The reports I saw indicated that the clone cylinders created during the Republic's time in the plant were destroyed in the attack. Is that true?"

"No, my lord," Doriana said. "They were stored in one of the Outlinks several kilometers away from the main complex and made it through undamaged.

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine has instructed me to transport them secretly to an old underground fortress on Wayland that he recently reactivated."

"Really," Sidious said thoughtfully. "How many are there?"

"Several thousand." Doriana hesitated. "If you'd like, I could arrange for them to be lost."

Sidious pursed his lips in thought, and Doriana held his breath. It would be easy enough for him to sabotage the transport of the cylinders in transit, of course, or even before they left Cartao. The problem was that with so few people in on the secret, that kind of action would open him up to a dangerously high risk of discovery. Still, if Sidious wanted it done...