A New Threat

by Elizabeth Hand

  a soft clicking sound, as though it were talking to the mushroom.

  The entire tree shuddered as a low rumbling sound shook the air.

  "Uh, thanks, but no thanks!" Boba yelped. He started to back away.

  Before he could move, the tree's lowest branch snaked toward him. It looped

  itself around his waist, firmly but gently; then quick as lightning pulled

  him into the air.

  Kafl000m!

  Fragments of dirt and shattered fungus pelted him. Boba stared at the

  ground in horror. Where he had stood, there yawned a mortar hole the size

  of a speeder. Flickers of flame ran around its perimeter. He smelled the

  ozone stink of a pulse grenade.

  "That was way too close!" exclaimed Boba. Beside him the alien nodded.

  "Indeed," it said.

  Boba blinked. For the first time he realized where he was: halfway up

  a huge fungus, with an armed and possibly hungry reptile next to him. He

  was outnumbered, at least for the moment.

  Better play dumb, he thought.

  "Uh, I know you don't like to answer questions - but can you tell me

  exactly what's going on?"

  The alien regarded him with its calm, intelligent eyes. It looked him

  up and down, taking in his Mandalorian body armor and helmet, his weapons.

  One of its clawed hands absently stroked the stalk of the fungus tree.

  After a moment it spoke - but not in answer to Boba's question. It

  gave a series of clicks and growls, seemingly directed to the tree. The

  tree responded by extending a long slender tendril toward Boba's head.

  Ulp! he thought, but stood his ground. The tendril touched his helmet,

  then his chest. It remained there, pressed against the smooth body armor.

  Boba could feel his heart pounding. After a moment he realized the tree

  could feel it, too.

  It's checking me out!

  Boba felt a sneaking admiration. The alien reptile looked at Boba and

  nodded. Its mouth parted in a razor-toothed smile.

  "The fungus has a primitive sensory system that responds to heat and

  motion. It detects an elevated heart rate. Your garb indicates you are a

  warrior and, I suspect, a mercenary one intending to attack me. I am not a

  warrior."

  The alien leaned against the fungus stalk. Its jade eyes grew clouded.

  "But I have learned to bear weapons, as you see. My name is Xeran. I am a

  Xamster. My family has been bound to this malviltree, Malubi, for one

  thousand turns of Xagobah. Once hundreds of us lived here and harvested

  Malubi's spores. Now only I remain."

  Xeran's voice grew sad. "War has come to Xagobah. Though we wanted no

  part of it, still war claimed us. Many of my people have been forced to

  serve one side or the other. Many others fled, only to be shot in flight.

  Our malvil-trees are dying of neglect and loneliness. And now I am caught

  between two armies - " It lifted one clawed hand and pointed. "There. Can

  you see them?"

  Boba strained, but even adjusting his helmet's focus didn't help. "No,

  " he replied.

  The alien made another series of clicks. The fungus tree - Malubi -

  extended another tendril. This one was thicker and less rubbery. The alien

  hopped onto it, then motioned for Boba to do the same. He did, and the

  alien grasped him as the tendril bore them up, up, up, until they were at

  Malubi's very top.

  "Wow," breathed Boba in amazement.

  Up here they were above the velvety haze of purple spores. Boba could

  see the canopy of the mushroom forest waving gently beneath. He could see

  the little clearing where he had left Slave 1, though of course his ship

  was invisible to him behind its cloaking device.

  And -

  Boba's breath caught in his throat. He grasped tightly at Malubi's

  rubbery appendage. He was glad Xeran could not see his face behind his

  Mandalorian helmet. Because the top of the malvil-tree also gave him a

  clear and terrifying view of what he had come here for.

  From the air, the Republic's trenches had looked like slashes in the

  ground. Now Boba saw how carefully constructed they were. Each held a line

  of thirty or so clone troopers, heavily armed. Waves of fire erupted from

  the trenches, arching through the air toward the fortress. With each

  bombast, a group of clone troopers would charge from the trenches -

  Only to be met by an opposing charge of droids!

  Boba whistled. The Republic's forces were impressive - he figured

  there were hundreds, maybe a thousand, clone troopers arrayed on the battle

  field below. But the citadel was so well-defended that Boba could not

  suppress a gasp.

  "Jabba was right about Wat Tambor," he muttered. A master of defense

  technologies, the gangster had said of him; and now Boba could see how true

  that was. Through the haze of spores and laser fire, Boba got his first

  glimpse of the Separatist's droid army: lines of battle droids marching

  relentlessly, tirelessly, toward the clone troopers to breach the

  Republic's lines.

  That looked bad enough. But what made Boba's hand tighten on his

  blaster wasn't the clashing armies.

  For the first time, he could clearly see Wat Tambor's citadel.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "So that's it," murmured Boba.

  "Yes," said Xeran. "The Mazariyan Citadel. The cause of all my

  troubles."

  "And the beginning of mine," Boba replied, trying not to shiver.

  Mazariyan rose from the planet's surface, unimaginably immense, a

  looming dull black. Its sides were stepped, like the sides of an ancient

  pyramid of Yavin. But even from this distance Boba could tell that the

  edifice was not just a building.

  The dull black, smooth surface seemed to pulse with life. Flickers of

  energylike lightning ran up and down its sides. On the levels above,

  shining black spines protruded. The spines were twice the length of Boba's

  body and as sharp as javelins. He could see where dark shapes had been

  impaled upon them. Even as he watched, one of the spines began to slowly

  retract, like a machine. Boba watched in horror as a limp form slid from

  it, falling and bouncing down the fortress's side.

  "The tyrant who is holed up there has twisted the evolution of

  Xagobah's lifeforms," said Xeran. His tone was steady, but Boba saw that

  the alien's face was strained. "He has taken fungus that were benign,

  feeding only on bacteria. He has taken our gentle malvil-trees. He has bio-

  engineered them so that they are now perverted and kill things without

  feeding on them."

  "Things like humanoids," said Boba in a low voice.

  "That is correct," agreed Xeran. "And Xamsters."

  "What is this tyrant's name?" asked Boba.

  But he already knew what the answer would be.

  "Wat Tambor," said Xeran. "He is evil. And as you can see, he has

  brought evil to us - "

  Xeran pointed to where a dark mass stretched about five hundred meters

  from the citadel in its long shadow. "Those are just some of the Republic's

  troops gathered there. They have laid siege for weeks now. No matter how

  many arrive, few are able to gain entrance. And when they do, we hear rumor

  of what they find inside. Wat Tambor's command
of technology has made him

  ruthless. There are no prisoners inside his citadel. And no survivors."

  Boba looked back at Mazariyan. He found he could not take his eyes

  from the sight, horrible as it was. "The Republic's using clone troopers,"

  he said, more to himself than Xeran.

  "Yes. Sometimes the Republic has forced my people to fight, paying

  them well. Yet the Republic has lost many non-clone fighters. Fighters they

  could not afford to lose. So their chiefs have sent in a Jedi General named

  Glynn-Beti to lead their forces."

  Boba's eyes grew cold and hard. "Glynn-Beti?" He didn't speak his

  thought: She's the Jedi who Jabba told me about.

  "Yes. Glynn-Beti is a Jedi Master, and a fearless warrior. Also a

  shrewd one."

  "She can't be that shrewd," said Boba. He smiled coldly. "Otherwise

  her troops would have already captured Wat Tambor and taken the citadel."

  To Boba's surprise, the reptilian alien once more made the growling

  sound that passed for Xamster laughter.

  "That is very amusing!" Xeran's jade-green eyes fixed on Boba. "It is

  a rare gift, to be able to find amusement when faced with danger. Or death.

  "

  He peered at Boba more closely. "You have not told me your name,

  stranger, or your business here. And I will not ask you. I suspect we share

  a common enemy. And if that is the case, it is best I do not know your

  intent. That way I cannot betray you."

  Boba nodded. "Thank you," he said.

  "Though I can, perhaps, help you." Xeran glanced at Boba's weapons

  belt. "You are already well-armed. Better armed than I am," he said, and

  patted his own blaster. "My weapon came from a trooper I was forced to slay

  in self-defense. He would have harmed Malubi."

  The Xamster stroked the malvil tree. "No, stranger. I do not think I

  can offer you better weapons. But I can offer you advice.

  "All of this territory is disputed, with battles erupting at anytime."

  Xeran pointed to the battlefield below them. "Your only hope of approaching

  the citadel is to come down from the north - that is the far side, there."

  Boba's heart sank. "There are a thousand clone troopers between here

  and there!" He patted his blaster, then shook his head. "But I have no

  other choice, so - "He started to climb down.

  "Wait." Xeran's cool scaly hand gently restrained him. "You may not

  have a choice. But you do have a means of approaching without being seen."

  The Xamster turned. Standing on tiptoe, he extended his claws to pluck

  a dark purple globe from the malvil-tree's stalk. As he did, a small puff

  of violet smoke emerged from the globe, then disappeared. Once more Boba

  felt the malvil-tree tremble, then grow still.

  "This globe contains Malubi's spores," explained Xeran. "The spores

  are harmless in themselves. Yet they are not useless. They act as a

  powerful camouflage agent. Organic life-forms cannot see through the haze

  produced by the spores. Neither can the droids - the spores reflect light

  too high on the spectrum for the droids to register through their optics.

  Wat Tambor has exploited the spores for his own purposes, to camouflage his

  vessels. But when the spores are carried by the wind, they act as chemical

  messengers between the trees."

  Xeran's lipless mouth curved in a smile to reveal white razorlike

  teeth. He held up a small pouch, opened it, and took a pinch of what looked

  like lavender powder between his claws.

  "Here," he said, gesturing at Boba's hand. "Take this. Put it into

  your eyes, beneath your helmet. It will enable you to see through the haze.

  "

  Boba held out his gloved hand. Xeran dropped a small amount of the

  lavender powder into his palm. Boba stared at it, then at the Xamster.

  Could Xeran be trusted?

  Boba hesitated. He had learned over the last few years to trust his

  instincts - one of a bounty hunter's most powerful assets.

  And his instincts told him now that Xeran was telling the truth.

  "Thanks," Boba said. He turned away, momentarily raising his helmet.

  He tilted his head back, and let a few grains of the powder fall into his

  eyes. He felt a faint prickling, but that was all. He blinked, lowered his

  helmet, and turned back to Xeran.

  The Xamster nodded approvingly. "The effect is not permanent. But it

  may help you. And here - - "

  He held out a small purple orb. "Take this globe with you. Malubi has

  already imprinted you as one who means us no harm. The other malvil-trees

  will recognize you. They will not harm you. But if you have need of

  camouflage, crush this globe. The spores will be released."

  Boba took the globe. "Thank you," he said. Carefully he slipped it

  into his utility pouch.

  "Something else I will tell you," added Xeran. "There is a fungus we

  call Xabar. It has many small tentacles. It is a very deep purple in color,

  with brilliant red tips. Wat Tambor has taken this fungus as well and made

  it into a weapon. Its tentacles release a toxin. The toxin causes

  paralysis. Not permanent, fortunately. But very effective. Anyone who comes

  into contact with it is immobilized. Completely. Consciousness remains, but

  not the ability to move."

  "Thank you," said Boba. "I will remember." From somewhere beneath them

  came a burst of laser fire.

  "I have to go now," said Boba. He looked down at the battlefield that

  stretched between him and Wat Tambor's living citadel. Then he turned to

  Xeran. "I owe you one, Xeran. Thanks again."

  The Xamster nodded solemnly. Its jade-green eyes narrowed, and it

  smiled. "You do not need to thank me. When you destroy our shared enemy, do

  so in the memory of my malvil. That will be thanks enough for me. And for

  Malubi," he added.

  Boba smiled. As he did, one of the malvil-tree's tentacle branches

  snaked around him. Very gently it lifted Boba, then slowly brought him to

  the ground.

  "I will not forget!" Boba called back as Xeran waved at him. "For

  Malubi!"

  "For Malubi!" Xeran echoed.

  Lifting one clawed hand in farewell, the alien slipped back into the

  violet shadows of his malviltree.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  A hundred meters up in Malubi's violet canopy, Xagobah had for a

  little while seemed a quiet, even peaceful, place.

  That peace was shattered as soon as Boba's feet touched the ground.

  "Captain! Intruder in your sector!" a voice shouted from only a few

  meters off.

  His father's voice.

  For an instant Boba froze. Then brilliant blue flame exploded, close

  enough that he could feel its heat through his body armor.

  "Whoa!"

  With a muffled shout Boba dove for the underbrush.

  The voice shouted again. "Captain! Did we score a hit?"

  Boba crouched beneath an overhanging net of webbed fungi. He peered

  out and saw a figure stalking into the clearing.

  His father's figure, cloaked in the gleaming, gray-white body armor

  and mask of the Republic army. A clone trooper.

  "Captain, do you copy?"

  Boba tried not to breathe as the trooper moved with sure, heavy steps,

  until he was
just an arm's length from where Boba was hidden. He was close

  enough that Boba could clearly see the back of his helmet.

  Boba had seen the clones many times before, of course. He could

  remember them being raised by the thousands on Kamino. And he had met a

  young clone, 9779, on Aargau. Clones were known mainly by their numerical

  designation.

  Could this be 9779, grown to his full size?

  The thought made Boba feel slightly sick. He forced it from his mind,

  and stared from the shadows at the trooper. Like all the clones, the

  captain had his father's build. It also had Jango's strength. Boba could

  tell from how easily it hefted its weapon, a DC-15 rifle that would have

  made Boba's arm ache.

  "Checking it out," the clone answered into its comlink. "I see no sign

  of an intruder. Hold your fire."

  It gave one more look around the clearing. Then it slid its rifle back

  into an upright position, turned, and strode off.

  "Whew." Boba let his breath out in relief. That was close!

  He waited until the clone trooper was just a pale fleck among the

  mushroom trees. Then Boba began to follow it. He kept within the shadows of