"It wasn't hard," Roshton said grimly. "Standard Trade Federation attack procedure always includes throwing a cordon around the target zone. All we had to do was set our ambush and make sure we dropped the ones in the place that would irritate the Cranscoc the most."

"Yes," Tories murmured, feeling a twinge of guilt. It had been his idea, and it had been necessary. But he still didn't much like the fact that he'd deliberately caused distress and discomfort to sentient beings. Especially sentient beings who had nothing to do with the chaos now swirling around them.

"I just hope it works," Doriana murmured.

"It will," Tories assured him. "The twillers aren't even going to be able to relax until those hulks are removed, let alone retool the plant for anything the Separatists want to build in there."

Roshton grunted. "Let's hope they don't figure it out until our reinforcements get here," he said. "Then we'll see how good they are."

"As long as you don't destroy the plant in the process," Binalie warned.

"We'll do what we can," Roshton promised. "But that's up to the Separatists now."

Tories felt his throat tighten, the fading light in the sky mirroring his own darkening mood. Because even if Spaarti survived, the thing he'd feared for so long had already happened.

The war had come to Cartao.