"Perhaps the Jedi Council sees things differently than you do," Doriana said, pulling a second datacard from his pocket. "Here are their instructions, ordering you to cooperate with me and my people."

He lifted his eyebrows. "You do still acknowledge the authority of the Council, don't you?"

Silently, with the same complete lack of enthusiasm with which Lord Binalie had taken the first datacard, Tories accepted the second. "Good,"

Doriana said briskly, getting to his feet. "Then all that remains is for you to return home and prepare for five of your workers to suddenly slump over with dizziness and fever."

"And you, I suppose, will do all the rest?" Binalie said bitterly.

"Of course," Doriana said. 'That's why I'm here."

The first worker began complaining of dizziness at precisely five minutes after the predicted time. Nine minutes after that, as he was being examined by the plant medic, he suddenly col lapsed, twitching and groaning. The second worker was more stoic, and was still at his station fifteen minutes later when he hit the floor. Three minutes after that, Lord Binalie ordered the plant evacuated.

"Ah-Doriana," the stolid face hovering above Doriana's holoprojector greeted him. "You have news?"

"The plant is ready, Commander Roshton," Doriana said. "You may land at your convenience."

"Excellent," Roshton said approvingly. "And in less than one day. You do admirable work."

"I do what the Supreme Chancellor commands," Doriana said with just a hint of warning. In these days of turmoil and suspicion, it never hurt to remind people as to where his loyalties lay.

"No more; no less."

"Of course," Roshton agreed calmly. "As do we all."

"Yes," Doriana agreed, glancing out the office canopy at the darkening skylight halfway across the room. "It's nearly nightfall, which is when the Cranscoc do all their serious work.