A New Threat
Page 4
land.
Below, the mushroom forest swayed and tossed as Slave I descended.
Clouds of spores drifted across the viewscreens. In the near distance,
flickers of blue and gold exploded through the violet haze. He had landed
behind the front lines; if he'd tried to fly directly to the citadel, both
Republic and Separatist forces would've been alerted to his presence. And
Boba needed both stealth and surprise if he was going to capture Wat
Tambor.
More laser fire.
The Republic's forces were very close.
With a shudder, Slave I touched down.
"Here we are," Boba muttered. A chill crept across him, but he ignored
it. Facing down fear had become second nature to him. He glanced at his
father's book, stowed safely beneath the console. Not long ago, Boba would
have taken it with him for good luck, and to give him confidence.
But not now. Boba had developed discipline, and with that came
confidence. And he had memorized every word of Jango's advice. Now Boba
carried the memory of his father inside him, along with the knowledge of
his own strength.
As for luck? Boba took a deep breath. We make our own luck, Jango had
told him. Caution, cunning, preparedness - that's what luck consists of.
Oh - and a great set of weapons doesn't hurt, his father had added
with a rare smile.
Thinking of Jango made Boba smile sadly. "Well, I've got the weapons,
that's for sure," he said.
He did a brisk check of his firearms, sliding a palm shooter onto one
hand. With the other he checked the array of weapons on his belt.
A vibroshiv; a single CryoBan grenade that Jabba had given him as
reward for an earlier success; his blasters. The Mandalorian body armor,
stronger and tougher than chyrsalide hide, as supple as Boba's own skin.
Man, this feels great! he thought, flexing his arms. He checked that
his Westar blasters were fully charged. That should be enough....
He started for the hatch, then stopped. His gaze fell upon a small
object resting alongside the flight console.
Ygabba's gift.
He picked it up, feeling again how heavy it was for something so
small. Carefully, he opened it.
"Whoa!" His eyes widened in delight. "A holoshroud!"
He examined it closely: compact power cell, hologram generator and
projector, hologram cartridge and tuner. As he turned it, a small text doc
slid out. Boba recognized Ygabba's neat handwriting.
Boba -
Bet you didn't expect this! I used Jabba's hologram recorder to scan
an image for you on the hologram cartridge. Seeing that'll be your next
surprise!
The bad news is you can't check it out until you actually use it -
and the power cell only lasts for two minutes. So save it for when you
really need it. Can't wait to hear how it all turns out!
Your friend, Ygabba
Boba shook his head, marveling.
"Ygabba, you definitely have the best taste in presents," he said at
last. He locked the holoshroud in place on his belt. "Guess that's it..."
He was ready to go. For a moment he looked longingly at his jet pack.
That would sure make it faster to get around.
But as he reached for the jet pack, he heard a burst of laser fire
from outside. There was an answering volley, followed by an explosion.
Boba shook his head. "Too risky."
Reluctantly he left the jet pack where it was. He adjusted his helmet
so it covered his face and stepped forward, opening the airlock. For one
last instant, he stopped and stared back at the interior of his ship - he
hoped he'd make it back here. Then he closed the airlock and opened the
outer door.
A rush of warm, marshy air surrounded him, thick with the smells of
rot and stagnant water. A flare of cannon fire made the towering mushrooms
shake like grass in the wind. He heard distant comm static and shouting,
the scream of something that was not human.
Boba smiled. "Wat Tambor, here I come!"
His hand poised above his blaster, Boba Fett took his first step onto
the surface of Xagobah - and into the unknown.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Slave I had landed in a small clearing in the mushroom forest. After
checking that the area was safe, Boba ran quietly until he reached the edge
of the clearing. He stopped and looked back.
His ship was gone.
For a moment Boba's heart stopped. "What?" Could the Republic forces
have found him so soon?
Suddenly he remembered. Jabba's interstitial shield! He laughed
hoarsely. "Guess that proves the cloaking device works!"
Boba gazed to where his ship was hidden. I'll be back as soon as I
can, he thought. With Wat Tambor - dead or alive!
He touched his helmet in farewell, turned and began to make his way
through the forest. "Ugh!"
Boba swatted at a thick, slimy purple-green tendril that reached for
him from an overhanging branch. The tendril recoiled like a cratsch
preparing to strike. A cloud of green mist puffed out from it, and a smell
like rotten meat.
Boba grimaced. "Funny, Jabba didn't mention moving, stinking
mushrooms!"
He activated his helmet's filtration system. As he stepped forward his
boots sank into sticky ooze. "Ugh!" Boba groaned again.
From the air, Xagobah's fungus-covered surface had appeared solid. But
now that he stood on it, or in it, Boba saw it was about as solid as
mugruebe mucus. He pulled his foot up. There was a loud belching sound, as
the ground beneath sucked at his boot hungrily.
Maybe leaving the jet pack behind hadn't been such a good idea....
Before he could take another step, a deafening sound tore the air
overhead, followed by a blinding burst of flame. Instinctively Boba flung
himself back toward an umbrella-shaped fungus three times his height.
That was his first mistake.
"Hey!" Boba shouted.
The huge mushroom had a gash in its side, big enough to hold Boba. He
thought he could hide there from whoever was firing. Instead, great slimy
folds of fungus suddenly extended from the mushroom, like huge mynock
wings. They covered him until he was wrapped in a slimy cocoon, with only
his head free. Then they yanked him backward to the base of the fungus-
tree. A putrid scent filled his nostrils. Boba's hands lashed out,
struggling to free himself.
That was his second mistake.
The instant his fingers touched the rippling fungus, they were stuck
fast. And the more he struggled, the worse it got. Within minutes, he was
entirely stuck. He could feel his blaster at his waist, but he couldn't
move to retrieve it. His fingertips grazed the handle of his vibroshiv, but
he couldn't free it. He could scarcely breathe.
And that, unfortunately, seemed to be the point.
Because Boba could still see. And what he saw was that he was slowly,
inescapably, being pulled toward the gash in the side of the great
mushroom-tree.
Only it wasn't just a gash. And it wasn't a hole. It was moving,
opening wider and wider the closer he drew to it.
And suddenly Boba knew what i
t was - A mouth.
CHAPTER NINE
The fungus was like some horrible hybrid of mushroom and spider. The
folds enveloping Boba were like a web.
And the mouth - well, it was exactly like a mouth! Boba could smell
it, the rotting scent of whatever its last meal had been. And he could see
it, row upon row of crimson, razor-sharp teeth stretching deep inside the
mushroom's trunk.
Now what?
He tried kicking again.
Nothing. He was completely immobilized. The fungal tree's mouth was
only meters away now. Boba glared at it through his helmet. He couldn't
move them, but still his hands clenched angrily.
Wait a minute...
Just beneath one hand he could feel the tip of something hard and
smooth: his Stokhli spray stick. Boba had taken it from a Stokhli nomad
who'd given him a hard time in Mos Eisley one day.
He'd stuck it on his weapons belt and, truth to tell, he'd almost
forgotten about it, despite the fact that spray sticks cost a lot of
credits. It was small and slender, with a stun pad at the very bottom and
spray mist cartridges a few millimeters above.
Blllaaaerghhh...
A sound came from the fungal tree, a disgusting moan of pleasure that
Boba interpreted as "dinnertime!"
"Not yet," he grunted. He clenched his hand again, his fingertips
grazing the spray stick. He had no way of taking aim at the fungus, no way
of adjusting the spray mist net or the electrical charge it delivered. If
it backfired, Boba would find himself entangled all over again, still
unable to move
Not that it would matter!
Aaaaergghhhh!
A pale purple tongue protruded from the mushroom's slobbering mouth.
Flecks of foul-smelling saliva splattered across Boba's helmet. With every
ounce of strength he had, Boba focused on moving his finger toward the
spray stick.
Just an iota, just the merest fraction - And
There was a muffled report. At Boba's side the spray stick shuddered
as though it would explode - and then it did!
"Gotcha!" crowed Boba.
A shimmering mist erupted from the stick's tip. It surrounded Boba,
but it did not adhere to him. Instead it fixed itself to the slimy membrane
that wrapped him like a cocoon. It formed a second web, a net strong enough
to hold a charging myntor.
A powerful electrical surge pulsed through the spray mist net. Good
thing I have my helmet and body armor! Boba thought.
As the pulsing charge stunned its prey, Boba flung himself forward.
Around him the fungus membrane slackened then recoiled.
He was free!
He heard an unhappy slurping sound, then a sort of sizzling groan. The
next instant he was on the ground, rolling away from the mushroom tree. He
stopped himself, then clambered to his feet. His hand felt for the stun
stick, disabling it.
"Well, that came in handy," he said.
A few meters off, the mushroom tree quivered and moaned. The stun-net
covered its mouth. Its pale tongue poked pathetically at the webbing, while
above it the tree's umbrella crown drooped.
"Only a great bounty hunter could have pulled that off!" boasted Boba
as he brushed himself off. "And - "
He stiffened. His hand hovered above his blaster as he turned, as
slowly as he dared, to face the creature behind him.
"And only a fool would have approached a flimmel tree during feeding
hours," it said coolly.
"Who are you?" demanded Boba.
But he might have asked, What are you?
The creature regarded him calmly. It was reptilian, a little taller
than Boba and with long, muscular arms and legs clad in what looked like a
carno uniform of purple and gray. Its large, almond-shaped eyes were coldly
intelligent, its lipless mouth curved in a slight smile to reveal sharp
teeth. Its wiry forearms were curled around a blaster rifle.
And the blaster was pointed right at Boba Fett.
CHAPTER TEN
"Who am I?" repeated the creature. "On Xagobah, we like to ask
questions before we answer them. But - "
The roaring whine of a missile passed overhead. Boba flinched. A
moment later the missile impacted a short distance away, sending him
falling to his knees. He looked up to see the creature staring down at him,
still eerily calm.
"But we seem to find ourselves on the same side for the moment," the
creature went on, as though nothing had happened. The muzzle of its blaster
remained fixed on Boba as it motioned for him to get up.
"And what side is that?" snapped Boba.
"The wrong one," retorted the creature, as another missile whizzed
overhead. "Quickly!"
It jammed the blaster rifle into Boba's side, gesturing toward the
mushroom forest.
"No way!" Boba shook his head. "I've already made dinner plans, and
they don't include being the main course!"
The creature made a low growling sound. Boba stiffened, then realized
the thing was laughing. "Dinner plans!" it repeated. "That is good! Feeding
time is over - " It poked him again, harder this time. Reluctantly, Boba
began moving toward the fungi forest.
"The flimmel trees share an underground root system," the creature
continued. "They are thousands of years old, and when one is hurt, they all
suffer. And that one was very badly hurt!"
It indicated the flimmel tree that Boba had escaped from. Its canopy
had retracted completely. It looked like a closed - and very mournful -
umbrella.
"None of them will be hungry for a little while." The creature shot
Boba an admiring glance. "That was a good jolt you gave it."
"Thanks," said Boba. He regarded the creature warily. But its own
expression as it stared back at him was mostly curious. Boba positioned his
hand so that it was near his blaster.
What's the best way to deal with this thing - whatever it is? he
wondered.
The alien was armed, but so was Boba. He could blast it - but what if
there were others nearby?
He looked at the alien from the corner as his eye. As he did, the echo
of laser fire made the surrounding mushroom forest shake as though a gale
tore through it.
don't even know what side of the conflict it's on, Boba brooded.
A sudden staccato burst of comm static made up his mind.
That was way too close, Boba thought. And he could tell from a glance
at the alien that it felt the. same way. Boba decided to take matters into
his own hands. He adjusted his helmet, squaring his shoulders to make
himself seem as tall as possible.
"We better find shelter - fast," he said.
To his surprise, the alien nodded. "This way," it said, turning to
lope into the forest. Boba followed, trying not to trip over clumps of
dimly glowing mushrooms like tiny, domed cities scattered underfoot. He
kept his hand on his weapon, scanning the shadowy fungus-growth around him
for signs of an ambush.
Thankfully, he saw nothing, save the clusters of gleaming mushrooms
and the occasional flimmeltree. They ran for several minutes. A second
burst of
comm static sounded - much closer this time. Boba could even make
out words: Tambor Angalarra, Ulu, Suspect Ambush..
Suspect ambush. Boba's grip on his blaster tightened. Scant meters
ahead his reptilian guide paused in front of an enormous mushroom tree the
color of demonsquid ink. Like the flimmel tree, it was topped by a parasol-
shaped crown. Unlike the flimmel tree, this one had wobbly limbs protruding
from it. They reminded Boba of the spokes of a wheel - if the spokes had
started to melt.
"This way!" hissed the alien. It made a running leap and nimbly swung
its clawed forearms over the lowest branch. The entire fungus seemed about
to keel over. Almost immediately the plant straightened, its limbs coiling
and uncoiling like fingers.
"Hurry!" the alien called urgently. "Come here!"
Boba stared up at it. Its lidless jade-green eyes stared back. Then it
turned and began clambering farther up the fungus stalk. As it did it made