"Timothy Zahn - Hero of Cartao 2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zahn Timothy)

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 their
cordon around the mansion, the assault droids holding down the building's
corners and entrances while the droidekas rolled watchfully around the
perimeter. It didn't look like anyone was going to be getting in or out any
time soon.
His eyes drifted across the grounds, wondering how Lord Binalie's
employees were reacting to the sudden invasion. But the only person he could
see was a quarter of the way around the mansion to the east: a gardener on his
knees beside one of the sculpted bushes. Apparently the more observant workers
had 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 the
droids, 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 and
let those monsters take up residence in my plant." "I understand your
frustration," Jafer Tories soothed. "But I'm sure they're not doing any damage
in there. They could have destroyed Spaarti from orbit if that was what they'd
wanted."
"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, the
greater 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 that
more 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 a
pair of dokriks fighting over a bone. What does it matter which of them is in
charge when the plant gets destroyed?" "So what do you suggest?" Tories asked.
Binalie's lips compressed briefly. "That we get the Separatists out
ourselves, now, before Roshton and his clone troopers can regroup to attack.
Bribe them, blackmail them-even help them finish their work if they'll promise
to get out afterward."
"You can't be serious," Tories protested, frowning. There was a whisper
of warning from the Force; a sense of alien minds nearby. "Why not?" Binalie
countered. "What are you worried about, Roshton's blatherings about treason?


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