"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Doriana countered, pulling a datacard from an inside pocket. "Senate Directive 3591, authorizing Supreme Chancellor Palpatine unlimited authority to commandeer any resource or group of resources he feels necessary for a swift conclusion of hostilities."

He held the card out to Binalie. "Beginning this evening, Spaarti Creations will be turning its complete facilities over to the manufacture of a new design of cloning tanks."

Slowly, Binalie took the datacard and slid it into his datapad.

For a long minute, the only sound in the room was the muted din of the assembly line floor outside the office's transparent canopy as he read and reread the directive. "You can't do this," he said when he finally tore his eyes away from the text.

"Weren't you listening to what I said back in my office? You take over Spaarti, and it'll just be a matter of time before the Separatists move in."

"Point one: you have no choice in the matter," Doriana said, letting his voice harden. "The Senate's directive is clear, and the Supreme Chancellor's decision has been made. Point two: there's no reason for the Separatists to hear anything about this. If we do our job properly, no one will know that crates marked farm equipment or tunneling gear actually contain cloning cylinders. As for my presence on here, I've already established the cover story that I'm intervening on Emil Kerseage's behalf."

"What about my workers?" Binalie countered. "Not counting the twillers, we employ nearly thirteen thousand humans and aliens here. How are you going to guarantee that they all keep quiet?"

"They can't talk about what they don't know," Doriana said. "And in approximately four hours you'll be pulling every one of them off the floor and confining them to their homes."