Pursuit

by Elizabeth Hand

  Star Wars

  Boba Fett

  Book 6

  Pursuit

  by Elizabeth Hand

  source: IRC

  uploaded: 09.I.2006

  CHAPTER ONE

  Death is silence: eternal, dark, colorless, without form or meaning,

  Boba Fett had watched his father, Jango Fett, die, murdered by the

  hated Jedi Mace Windu. At the time Boba had felt only grief and rage. In

  the years that followed, he felt sorrow, the dull constant ache of missing

  his father. It was an ache that had receded somewhat over the last few

  years, But it had never disappeared.

  The one thing Boba had never felt - had never even allowed himself to

  imagine - was what it would feel like to actually die. He had never

  believed he would experience death firsthand -

  But now Boba Fett was dead.

  His motionless form lay in a dark, twisting tunnel inside Mazariyan,

  the immense, mazelike fortress of the Separatist Tech genius Wat Tambor.

  Outside the citadel's walls, a fierce battle raged. The might of Wat

  Tambor's robotic troops was massed against the dwindling resources of the

  Republic, led by the Jedi General Glynn-Beti. The walls of Mazariyan

  shuddered beneath repeated bombardments by the Republic troops. Fissures

  appeared in the floor, only to be immediately repaired by microscopic

  nanotech's. A crack ran across the ceiling above Boba's lifeless body. A

  thick, mucuslike substance began to drip down - the organically derived

  fluid used to power Wat Tambor's massive array of machines.

  Had Boba been alive, he would have known this was a bad sign. The

  Republic had breached the outermost of Mazariyan's defenses. The living

  fortress had been so badly damaged that it was losing the ability to repair

  itself quickly enough to survive the Republic's assault.

  But Boba knew nothing of this. Boba was dead - or so it seemed. Just

  millimeters from his cold hand lay a small clump of pale xabar fungus. The

  fungus produced a paralyzing toxin. The toxin's effect was, fortunately,

  not permanent. To all appearances, someone under its influence appeared to

  be dead. Boba had grabbed the fungus in a last-ditch effort to save himself

  from a fatal encounter with the terrible Grievous, a partial droid general

  in the Separatist army.

  But now it seemed that Boba's desperate effort might have failed....

  CHAPTER TWO

  "There it is." A flat, affectless voice rang through the dark passage.

  "The infiltrator's corpse."

  "Excellent." A second voice echoed in the empty tunnel. "Human

  carrion. We shouldn't waste our resources on it. It is of no use to us. We

  should leave it to rot."

  "That would be against orders. Wat Tambor said it is to be

  incinerated. There must be no evidence that it was ever here."

  Two spindly figures rounded the tunnel and began to approach Boba's

  motionless body - a pair of PK-4 worker droids. These were not battle

  droids - Wat Tambor had commandeered all of those to defend Mazariyan. Only

  a skeletal force of worker and repair droids remained inside.

  But even they would be leaving soon....

  KKKKAAARR00000W!

  The worker droids paused as the entire fortress shook. The crack in

  the ceiling yawned wider. More of the thick, cold fluid oozed down onto

  Boba's helmet. It seeped beneath the edge of the visor, dripping onto his

  skin. Its touch was cold, icy cold, spreading like frigid fingers across

  Boba's cheek.

  For the first time since he had been left for dead, Boba felt

  something.

  Father?

  Deep within Boba's mind, a spark of consciousness flickered. He could

  neither move nor speak.

  But he could feel. Sensation was slowly returning to his inert form.

  Another blast shook Wat Tambor's fortress. Protoplasmic gunk surged from

  where the ceiling had been blown apart. As the PK-4s stood, waiting for the

  blast to subside, more of the icy ooze dripped upon Boba's gloved hand.

  Some of it covered the bare patch of skin that he had deliberately exposed

  to the xabar fungus.

  And now, that icy touch set off a chain reaction within Boba's brain.

  Memory flared through him. He could not blink, or speak - but he could

  remember. The chill touch of organic ooze became the touch of Jango's hand

  upon his cheek. As though awakening from a dream, he remembered his

  father's face. Then the dream grew nightmarish as he remembered his

  father's death. He moaned.

  Memory was returning to Boba Fett.

  Memory, and consciousness

  And life!

  Mazariyan, he thought groggily. The battle... Grievous... Wat Tambor..

  .

  "We must hurry." The droids stood above Boba's body. He quickly

  stifled his groan as one droid prodded him. Its insectile head swiveled to

  stare at the bounty hunter. "Wat Tambor wants no evidence that a spy gained

  entry."

  The entire fortress shook once more.

  "Another blast! No time to waste!" The second droid bent. Its

  servogrip hands slid roughly beneath Boba's arms.

  Agggghhhhhh! Boba wanted to gasp with pain. As memory flooded him, so

  did further sensation - primarily pain. Grievous's last blow had penetrated

  Boba's body armor. He could feel where the armor had shattered upon impact,

  exposing his shoulder to the energy bolt.

  The blow had not been fatal. But the pain was excruciating.

  Fortunately, he had not cried out. The droids still thought he was dead.

  Far from it! Boba could feel his lungs expanding as he took in air. He

  could feel the droids' servo-grips tightening around him. He was tall and

  muscular, and his body armor added to his bulk.

  But the droids hoisted him up between them effortlessly, roughly - as

  though he was nothing but a sack of refuse. Or fuel for Wat Tambor's

  furnace...

  Which, to them, he was.

  Agh, he thought, gritting his teeth. He could definitely feel pain.

  And he could see.

  "The incinerator has been busy today," one of the droids commented as

  they began to stride quickly down the tunnel. "Much organic matter to feed

  on."

  "Human scum," the second droid retorted. They stumbled as another

  blast rocked the fortress.

  Boba blinked. Good thing I've still got my helmet on, he thought.

  Otherwise they might notice my eyes are open.

  He tried to find his bearings as the droids bore him down, down, down

  through a series of long, twisting passages. Glowing lumens showed where

  the fortress walls had sustained considerable damage from the Republic's

  assault. Shattered droids were everywhere, as well as glowing heaps of

  molten metal.

  Wonder who has the upper hand now? Boba thought. He hated the Jedi,

  but General Glynn-Beti had helped him gain entry into Mazariyan. The last

  Boba had seen of the battle, the Republic's troops were putting up a good

  fight against the Separatists. If Wat Tambor's forces had been weakened by

>   the battle, it would be that much easier for Boba to escape and find his

  way back to his ship, Slave I.

  But first he had to avoid being tossed into Wat Tambor's furnace!

  He took a chance and flexed one of his hands. His strength was

  returning. As it did, the pain from Grievous's blast began to subside.

  My body armor must've absorbed most of the blow, Boba thought

  gratefully. He could feel himself growing stronger, more alert. It was a

  real effort not to move and strike out at the droids.

  But while sensation was slowly returning to his body, he still felt

  slightly groggy. His reflexes would not be as keen as they should be.

  And he had no idea who, or what, he might encounter inside the

  fortress.

  Better wait... he thought.

  "This way," one of the droids announced. Boba did his best not to

  flinch as they made a sudden turn and began to descend down a steep

  incline.

  The darkness took on an unmistakable reddish tinge. Inside his

  Mandalorian body armor, Boba started to sweat.

  The good news is that I've recovered enough from that fungus to feel

  the heat, he thought with grim amusement. And the bad news? This must be

  the incinerator!

  Around him, everything glowed as though it were molten. The droids'

  shining silver limbs burned crimson and gold. The heat was intense and

  painful. A slight adjustment of his body armor's thermostatic cooling

  system would take care of that, but Boba didn't dare move to change it.

  Not yet, anyway. He turned his head ever so slightly, praying that his

  helmet would hide any apparent motion from his droid captors. They seemed

  to take no notice.

  "Wat Tambor will be departing shortly," one of the droids stated in

  its flat voice. "He wished to be informed when the spy was disposed of."

  "Disposal is imminent," the other droid replied.

  Boba stared through his helmet's visor as the droids carried him the

  last few steps to their destination. They were in a large, nearly airless

  room, devoid of any equipment or furnishings. A few meters away shone an

  incandescent square of light, blinding and seemingly as hot as the sun.

  Heat radiated from it in shimmering waves. A conveyor belt, the room's sole

  machinery, moved slowly toward the incinerator's opening.

  Talk about too hot to handle, thought Boba. Sweat trickled down his

  face, stinging his eyes. He couldn't move to wipe it away. Beneath him, the

  droids stopped. Their servogrips remained in place, holding Boba above

  their heads. He took a deep breath, then tightened his muscles until his

  body went taut.

  Have to risk it - hope they don't notice!

  The droids remained oblivious. In front of them the conveyor belt

  moved slowly, steadily, toward the incinerator.

  And now Boba could see other shapes on it. Mangled knots of metal and

  plasteel, all that remained of damaged droids, and - shocking Boba -

  lifeless bundles of body armor, flesh, and charred weaponry.

  Clones, he thought, and felt a stab of mingled pity and horror.

  Helmets covered their faces, but Boba knew what he would see if their body

  armor was removed

  His father Jango's face. His own face... for Jango had been the

  template from which all the clones had been built. Including Boba, the only

  unaltered clone.

  "Shall we retain its armor and helmet?" One of the droids asked as it

  hoisted Boba. Its servogrip tugged at his weapons belt. "These are not

  organic. They are of fine quality."

  You bet they are! Boba gritted his teeth. It took every bit of

  willpower to keep from lunging at the droids now; but their hold on him was

  still too strong. Gotta wait till the last possible moment...

  "Our orders were to dispose of it completely," the second droid

  stated. "It is time we returned and gave our report."

  The first droid's servogrip retracted. Boba allowed himself a silent

  sigh of relief. He felt himself being lifted higher, until he was poised

  directly above the conveyor belt. The incinerator's mouth was close enough

  that he could feel its heat through his reinforced boots. He stared down

  and watched as the conveyor brought one of the lifeless clones to the

  furnace's opening. For an instant the gray-clad form seemed to hang in the

  air, silhouetted black against white-gold flames. There was a flare of

  scarlet, a thread of black smoke - and it was gone.

  Nothing can withstand that heat! Boba took a deep breath. The air was

  so hot it was like inhaling molten lava.

  Boba thought of all the things he hadn't done yet. The vows he had

  made: to become the greatest bounty hunter the galaxy had ever known, and

  to seek revenge on the Jedi who had killed Jango Fett.

  He vowed once more to see these things through. "Ready," one of the

  droids said.

  "Ready," agreed its partner. Without a sound, they flung Boba toward

  the belt.

  For a moment he hung in the air, limp as the dead things beneath him.

  Then with a wordless shout Boba straightened, launching himself toward the

  droids. With a satisfying thunk! his boots connected with the droids'

  heads. They went sprawling, and Boba landed behind them before they could

  recover.

  Good thing these worker droids are unarmed.

  "Alert Wat Tambor!" one of them commanded. Its insectoid

  photoreceptors flashed from green to red as they surveyed Boba. "There has

  been a breach on Level Three. Organic matter has reanimated. Request backup

  immedi - "

  "That's your last request!" Boba yelled.

  He drew his blaster, staggering slightly. Still unsteady from that

  toxin! He caught himself, leveling a charge that sent the first droid

  reeling backward onto the moving belt. The second swiveled. It, too, was

  unarmed, but Boba could hear a blast of static as it attempted to send an

  alarm signal from its vocabulator.

  "Things sure are heating up around here!" Boba kicked out at the

  second droid. It collapsed against the side of the conveyor. Before it

  could move again, Boba blasted it. Remnants of plasteel and sensors rained

  down onto the conveyor belt, as the first droid was borne into the furnace.

  "I think it's time I checked out - "

  He shoved his blaster back into his belt and turned. Behind him was an

  opening.

  That must be how I got here. A shrill alarm sounded. And it looks like

  it's how I better leave - now!

  He ran through the opening into a narrow passage. Muted thunder came

  from outside. The floor beneath him shook. Boba looked around but saw no

  signs of life anywhere; only piles of rubble where the Republic's fire had

  damaged the fortress walls. The passage went in only one direction, so he

  began to run swiftly, one gloved hand resting lightly on his blaster.

  I've got to find Wat Tambor, he thought with grim determination. If he

  gets away...

  Boba quickly pushed that thought aside. He had been sent to Xagobah to

  capture Wat Tambor and bring him back to Jabba the Hutt, dead or alive.

  Failure was not an option.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Boba had no idea how to find his way out of Wat Tambor'
s fortress, let

  alone find the Foreman of the Separatist's Techno Union, before he fled

  Xagobah. He continued to follow the passage as it twisted and turned,

  gradually climbing toward one of Mazariyan's upper levels. Welcome cool air

  flowed past him, and Boba inhaled gratefully.

  You never know how much you miss breathing till you've been dead, he

  thought wryly.

  He came to a spot where the tunnel forked. Here he paused. It was

  easier to breathe now; easier to do everything. The xabar's toxins had

  finally worn off.

  But Boba couldn't blame everything on the toxin. He inspected his body

  armor and noted where it had been damaged by Grievous's assault. As he ran

  a hand over his arm he winced.

  That was a bad one, he thought. A surface wound; but Grievous's

  weaponry and lightsabers had managed to tear right through the Mandalorian

  body armor. Better make sure I treat th -

  KARAM!

  With a cry Boba fell backward. Blinding heat surrounded him. With one

  hand he gripped his blaster, moving carefully to see what had happened.

  One entire side of the fortress was gone. Where moments before the

  tunnel's wall had curved, now there was only empty air, a scorched ring of