New Threat (10 page)

“Well,” Boba said, scrambling back to his feet. He gazed at the fallen Clawdite lying beside the Xabar fungus. If anyone found him, they would assume he had accidentally stumbled
upon the paralyzing mushroom. “I hope that stuff works for a good long time. Long enough to get me to Wat Tambor, at least.”

He began to run down the passage. It was noticeably warmer here. And there were more signs of Wat Tambor’s technological genius.

Ribbons of circuitry gleamed along the tunnel’s soft, slimy walls. Phosphorescent globes hung alongside shining plasteel tubes that crackled with electricity. Computer monitors the size of
Boba’s thumb blinked like crimson eyes. Xabar fungus sprouted from discarded bits of droids like hair.

And always there was that steady, powerful thrumming, like the beating of a massive heart.

Boba tried not to think about that too much. He didn’t like to imagine what kind of creature would have a heart that size.

Ahead of him the deep-blue glow of the tunnel began to brighten. Now it was hard to see the walls of the passage behind all the layers of metal and computer circuitry. The tunnel turned, and
turned again. Boba’s steps slowed. He crept alongside the wall, eyes fixed on what was before him.

Just a few meters away, the tunnel ended. A high, smooth archway opened into a single large chamber. Silvery violet light spilled from it, threaded with deep purple and blood red.

The light was so intense it hurt Boba’s eyes. He paused and adjusted his optical sensors. Then he checked his weapons. His blasters, his vibroshiv, Ygabba’s holoshroud, ion stunner,
dart shooter…

Which would help him capture Wat Tambor? All of them—or none?

Boba’s stomach clenched. For the first time a shiver of apprehension went through him.

Fear is energy,
he told himself.
Use it.

He took a deep breath. Then, keeping as low as he could, he ran the last few meters from the tunnel through the archway.

And found himself face-to-face with Wat Tambor.

Boba sucked in his breath sharply.

He was in a large chamber, more like a cavern than a room. Blinking and shimmering circuits covered the slivery walls. Banks of monitors stretched everywhere. There were heaps of parts belonging
to droids—arms, legs, blasters, power cells. Clumps of Xabar fungus sprang up between them, and other mushrooms as well.

None of this surprised Boba.

But what was in the center of the chamber did.

Thrusting up from the floor was a huge, shapeless, purple mass. It pulsed and shuddered like a massive slime mold. Flickers of crimson flame raced inside it. From it protruded dozens of
tentacle-like tubes. Each time it pulsed, Boba could see darkly glowing violet liquid stream through the tubes, feeding outward into the walls.

There were other veins as well. These rippled from the walls and into the bioengineered nerve center, feeding it. The liquid that surged through them was deep red.

Boba stared at it, revolted. This was why none of Glynn-Beti’s ARC troopers returned. He was gazing at Mazariyan’s heart! That was how the
enormous
fungus received its power—by feeding on what it found
inside
!

A deep voice shattered Boba’s thoughts.

“You are not who I was expecting.”

Boba looked up. In the center of the room towered the Separatist. His own expression was momentarily as surprised as Boba’s.

Wat Tambor was tall and powerfully built. His body was encased in combat armor that he had designed himself. Only the top of his ridged skull was visible above it. His eyes were hidden behind
round optic sensors. A heavy metal cowl covered his mouth and the lower part of his face.

When Wat Tambor spoke, his inhuman voice was calm. “So. An intruder. That is no matter. I will make use of you—one way or another!”

He raised his hand. A ray of scarlet light surged from it. With a cry Boba dove to one side. The ray struck the floor, pulverizing plasteel into smoking goo.

Wat Tambor cursed. Boba rolled, drawing his blaster. He fired.

BLAM!

The blast from his weapon arced straight toward Wat Tambor!

Boba’s joy abruptly died. Tambor was quicker than he looked, and dodged the blast, which was then seemingly absorbed by the chamber wall.

Boba felt the entire room around him shudder. The huge nerve center gave a powerful surge. The shimmering circuits glowed even brighter.

“Your weapons only serve to feed it,” announced Wat Tambor in that calm, mechanical voice. “As you will yourself!”

Boba staggered to his feet again. “No!” he shouted.

Mazariyan’s tentacles were everywhere. Writhing, wriggling, crawling along the floor—dozens of them, with a single target.

Boba Fett!

With a cry Boba drew his vibroshiv. He slashed at a huge vein and felt his blade cut into it with a satisfying slurp. Shimmering liquid splattered out. He ducked to one side, nearly falling on
the slick floor.

But the chamber floor was already at work, sucking up the liquid greedily.

“Take that!” cried Boba. A cobralike tentacle swooped toward him and he grabbed it. It lashed up, scraping the ceiling. Boba hung on with all his strength. He waited until he was
just above where Wat Tambor stood beside Mazariyan’s beating nerve center. Then he let go.

“Yaaah!” he shouted.

He lunged for the Techno Union Foreman, blaster firing.

Too late. Wat Tambor moved too quickly.

The Separatist whirled, sending another bolt of energy flying from his hand. Boba lunged for the floor. If he could just reach that pile of broken metal…

“Agh!”

A blazing burst of pain struck his leg, so powerful it overwhelmed his body armor, which now cracked and smoked. Boba crashed against the ground. He had a glimpse of Wat Tambor’s figure
searching for him. Then the Separatist suddenly looked away, toward the chamber’s entrance.

I’ve got to hide
, thought Boba in desperation,
before he sees I’m down….

He rolled and began to drag himself to the heap of droid parts. It was darker there. He might be able to gain a minute, enough time to get Wat Tambor in his sights once more.

Boba drew himself up by the wall. The shattered droids gave him enough shadow to hide, for a moment. In the middle of the room the tentacles were still gulping eagerly at the fluid leaking from
the severed vein.

“Where is he?” Boba murmured. He rubbed his leg. The pain was subsiding—it had only been a glancing blow. “Gotta find him—”

Boba strained to see Wat Tambor. But the Techno Union Foreman was out of sight, hidden by the bulk of the nerve center.

Boba could hear him, though. He was talking to someone—but who? Nuri?

I should have killed the Clawdite!
Boba thought angrily.
Now he’s betrayed me again!
He began to ease himself from the shadows. One hand remained firmly on his blaster.
The other was on his belt, ready to draw whatever weapon he might need.

But as Boba looked up, he realized he’d be needing all of them. Because into the room strode the most terrible, vicious figure he had ever witnessed.

Its head nearly touched the ceiling—a head composed of interlocking bands of an alloy he’d never seen before. A pale, cowled robe cloaked its body. Through its folds Boba glimpsed
its true form: gleaming metallic limbs, six-fingered hands like robotic claws. When it turned its head, searching, Boba saw its eyes. Golden reptilian eyes, the pupil a black slash set within
blood-colored sockets. Even Mazariyan’s tentacles seemed to sense his awful threat. They retracted into the heart, like a carnivorous snail into its shell, waiting.

Boba’s blood froze. Suddenly, and with horrible certainty, he knew he was looking upon the most powerful, most lethal threat he had ever faced.

The terrifying general of the droid army—

Grievous!

Boba’s mouth went dry. Grievous was flanked by two droid bodyguards, nearly as tall as he was. Their eyes were huge and round and crimson. They scanned the room
methodically, heads sweeping back and forth.

Any moment they would find Boba!

Now what?
he thought. His hands moved quickly over his weapons belt. The blasters’ energy would just feed Mazariyan. And his vibroshiv would be useless against a droid.

Suddenly his hand felt something else. A small compact object, fitted neatly on his belt.

Ygabba’s holoshroud.

Yes!
Boba moved so that he was sitting upright. He peered out.

Grievous’s bodyguards had started circling the room, scanning for the intruder. Grievous stood ominously in the center of the chamber by the heart, waiting. Wat Tambor was near a monitor,
busily inputting information.

Grievous hasn’t seen me yet,
Boba thought.
He doesn’t know exactly what I look like, or who I am.

Boba had no idea what image Ygabba had scanned into the holoshroud. But it was this or nothing.

This is my best chance for living long enough to thank you, Ygabba
, thought Boba.
It better be good!

His finger hovered above the holoshroud’s button. He took a deep breath. Then he pressed it, and stood.

There was a hum from where the cell hung at Boba’s waist. Then he was surrounded by a glowing halo. It extended high above his head. When he moved his arm, the halo moved. When he stepped
forward, it moved too.

From inside the holoshroud, Boba could see only this shimmering cloud. But others, he knew, saw something completely different. They saw whatever image Ygabba had scanned into the cell.

But what image was that?

As Boba stepped forward, the droid bodyguards snapped upright. Their empty, glowing eyes burned even brighter. Boba moved to one side, heading for the arch that led out. As he did, he caught a
glimpse of his reflection in a monitor screen. At the same time, the bodyguards spoke.

“Durge!”

Boba almost yelped with joy.

His friend had scanned Durge’s image into the holoshroud!

And that was what the droids saw: not Boba Fett, but the hulking figure of one of the galaxy’s most feared bounty hunters!

“Destroy him!”

An icy commanding voice thundered through the chamber. Grievous pointed at his bodyguards. As one, they lunged forward, firing. Boba leaped aside, and the blasts struck the wall behind him. It
exploded in shards of plasteel and oozing fungus. One of Mazariyan’s tentacles poked out from the pulsing heart of the citadel. Grievous turned and raised a hand threateningly. The tentacle
shrank back.

“I said, destroy him!”

The droids stalked across the room. Boba fired back at them. His blasts bounced off their armored forms. He yanked out his ion stunner and fired. A surge of ionic plasma flared from it. One of
the droids fell back, momentarily stunned.

“Yes!” crowed Boba.

He could see his own reflection mirrored in viewscreens across the chamber, tall and powerful. For an instant it seemed that the bodyguards might be taken aback as well.

“It is indeed Durge,” one said in its cold robotic voice.

Grievous turned his horrible eyes upon Wat Tambor. “You said it was a Mandalorian warrior,” he said.

Wat Tambor looked at him. “He must have brought reinforcements,” he replied.

“It is no matter,” said Grievous.

Boba sent another bolt flying from the ion stunner at the bodyguards. Then he turned and started racing for the door.

The holoshroud’s illusion would last for only two minutes. How much time was left? Enough to make the bodyguards hesitate before attacking him again?

Everything around him was a glowing blur as he ran for the arch. If he could only escape from this chamber, he could hide within the citadel. He already had a plan for utilizing those tentacles
to capture Wat Tambor. If only he could—

Vvvvvvmmmmmm…

The hum from the holoshroud’s power cell suddenly grew silent. Around Boba, the veil of Durge’s image flickered into pixels of color. For a second he could see himself clearly, as
the others had seen him: not Boba but Durge, his mighty arm raised to fire, Boba’s weapon shrouded in the image of Durge’s own blaster.

Then the holoshroud’s illusion was gone. The power cell had run out.

And so had Boba’s luck.

“That is him! The intruder!”

Wat Tambor’s voice rang out like a clear bell. Boba watched as Grievous and his two bodyguards turned to stare at him.

“You are not Durge, as I suspected.” Grievous’s voice was cold, with no trace of human emotion. “But you will die all the same!”

He lifted his arm. Before Boba could move, Grievous gave a command. A blinding flash of energy leaped from an unseen weapon held by one of his bodyguards. It struck Boba in the chest and he
fell, another piece of his father’s armor smoking and cracked.

“Get him,” commanded Grievous.

The droid bodyguards sprang forward. But Boba’s body armor had absorbed the blow’s impact. He rolled to one side, struggling to his feet and backing against the wall.

“You won’t take me!” he yelled.

“Maybe not alive,” said Wat Tambor calmly. “But dead will suit us just as well.”

The droids stalked toward Boba. He grasped a blaster in each of his hands and raised them. He waited until the droids were just meters from him. Then, ducking, he fired and darted to one
side.

KABLOWWW!

The blasts bounced harmlessly from the droids. They swiveled, firing in staccato bursts. Boba fired back.

KABLAAM!

He inched along the wall, blasters flaming.
If I can just reach the door,
he thought desperately.

There was another blast of power from the droids. Right above Boba’s head the wall fragmented. He took advantage of the cloud of splintered metal and mushroom ooze, and ran.

Beside him fresher, cooler air streamed from the dimness—the tunnel. Boba made for it, his breath coming in short, deep bursts as he ran. He could hear the clack of the droids’
measured footsteps behind him. He could imagine their arms raised, and that terrible, cloaked figure watching—