Star Wars - The Bounty Hunter Wars - The Mandalorian Armor

by K. W. Jeter

  taunted to madness by its captors. The optics of the

  cannon's tracking systems pulsed red through the clouds

  of hissing steam emitted from the apertures of the black

  metal housing; as the reptilelike balancing tail thrashed

  behind him D'harhan's arms spread wide, black-gloved

  hands clawing into themselves, trembling with their

  thwarted desire for destruction. A keening, wordless howl

  sounded from deep within the machinery curving into the

  creature's heart.

  The visor of Boba Fett's helmet cleared as he looked

  back down at the container trapped in the dais's

  wreckage. Another tug, putting all of his weight and

  force into it, and the metal tube finally scraped through

  the debris, shedding flakes of rust. A dot of green light

  beside the handle told Fett that the container's seal was

  still intact, the object inside still as primed and ready

  to go as it had been when first hidden here, during the

  construction of the great reception hall.

  With a last dragging rasp of metal against metal, the

  tubular container came free. Boba Fett caught himself

  from toppling backward, then cradled the heavy object in

  his arms. As he turned he saw Zuckuss pulling himself

  upright, a few meters away. The disorienting effects of

  the explosion had obviously faded from inside the smaller

  bounty hunter's head; Fett could see the enlightenment

  behind the other's insectoid eyes, the sudden

  understanding of all that Zuckuss had been told before.

  Surrounded by the nois e and quick glare of laser bolts,

  he even managed a slight nod of acknowledgment, to show

  that he had just now realized what Boba Fett had meant

  when he had told him those few fragments of the deal that

  had been struck between a bounty hunter and an architect.

  An investment, that pays off later. In a big way . . .

  "Here!" That was Bossk's shout, from a few meters

  away. Another mercenary, braver or stupider than the

  rest, had come charging head down toward the Trandoshan,

  and had actually gotten close enough that Bossk had taken

  him out with a single blow to the chin, swinging the butt

  of the blaster rifle around in an upward arc. Another jab

  of the rifle butt, right between the mercenary's eyes,

  had made sure he'd be no further trouble. "Get busy!"

  Bossk had reached down and grabbed a blaster pistol from

  the holster slung at the fallen mercenary's hip, and now

  tossed it underhand to Zuckuss. "We could use a little

  help!"

  Zuckuss caught the blaster in both hands and

  continued holding it that way as he pressed the trigger

  stud, sending a wild spray of fire across the reception

  hall as he rolled onto his shoulder, dodging the bolt

  that dug a molten gash through the floor where he had

  been kneeling.

  The added fire gave Boba Fett enough cover that he

  could turn with the durasteel tube in his arms and sprint

  toward D'harhan, still howling in impotent rage at the

  glaring blaster streaks that laced through the reddened

  clouds of steam. Before he had taken more than a couple

  of steps away from the dais wreckage, a pair of thin

  mechanical arms wrapped themselves around Boba Fett's

  neck, their crablike claws scrabbling at the visor of his

  helmet.

  Eyes starting from their fat-swaddled sockets, the

  Shell Hutt Gheeta squealed in maddened rage; blood webbed

  his broad face as the force of his encasing cylinder's

  repulsors knocked Boba Fett off balance. Fett managed to

  remain standing; for a split second he was lifted almost

  clear of the red-spattered floor as Gheeta dragged him

  upward by the neck. Then he twisted around in the Shell

  Hutt's sharp-edged grasp and swung the length of the tube-

  shaped container around into the side of Gheeta's skull.

  The impact left a trenchlike dent in the gray, wobbling

  flesh; Gheeta's eyes went unfocused as the crablike me

  chanical hands flopped apart, dropping Boba Fett.

  There wasn't time, as much as Fett might have wanted,

  to finish off Gheeta. From the other side of the great

  reception hall, beyond the erect, howling figure of

  D'harhan, a volley of blaster fire singed past Fett. With

  the container tucked under one arm, he grabbed the bolted

  seams of Gheeta's floating cylinder, gloved fingertips

  digging a hold on to the metal. Gheeta's dazed eyes

  rolled as Boba Fett shoved the cylinder ahead of himself

  as a shield. A frightened scream escaped from the Shell

  Hutt's mouth as the mercenaries' laser bolts stung and

  sparked against the cylinder's curved flank.

  When he reached D'harhan, he shoved Gheeta aside;

  with enough force to send him bobbing and twisting into

  the cross fire that filled the center of the reception

  hall. The immense form of D'harhan reared above Boba

  Fett, the inert laser cannon shrouded by hissing steam,

  the heavy arms crucified against the glare of the

  mercenaries' rifle fire. Above the cannon's barrel, the

  optics of D'harhan's tracking systems focused upon the

  helmeted figure stepping within range of the tearing

  hands.

  Boba Fett halted; with one quick motion, he unscrewed

  the end cap of the tube-shaped container. The seal

  hissed, higher-pitched than the steam escaping from the

  laser cannon's black metal housing, as air rushed into

  the vacuum. Tilting the container, Fett slid out a fully

  charged reactor core. He lifted one end of the core in

  his hands as though he were aiming a rifle, then stepped

  forward and thrust it into the gaping hole of the

  receptor site in D'harhan's chest.

  When they had been aboard the Slave I, D'harhan had

  howled with the pain of an essence-deep violation as Boba

  Fett had drawn out a core just like this one. Now a sharp

  intake of breath sounded inside the throat hidden beneath

  the laser cannon's barrel; D'harhan's back arched, his

  segmented tail thrashing convulsively across the broken

  rubble around him. Every neuron and sinew of D'harhan's

  frame tensed and surged in sync with his accelerating

  pulse as the bounty hunter's fist turned inside the

  exposed chest, locking the reactor core into place.

  The pulse of D'harhan's blood seemed to shatter the

  barrier between flesh and machine as the indicator lights

  along the laser cannon's housing flashed in a microsecond

  from yellow to a fiery red. As Boba Fett slammed the

  locking armature into its socket, then spun and dived for

  the floor, the cannon barrel swung down from nearly

  vertical to aiming level. The heat from D'harhan's first

  shot scorched Fett's spine and shoulder blades as he used

  the corpse of another dead mercenary to pull himself to a

  safe distance.

  He found the mercenary's blaster rifle and held it to

  his chest as he rolled onto his back. Pushing himself up

  with one hand, Fett saw another cannon bolt, a hundred

  times wider and more d
estructive than the other shots

  cutting across the great reception hall's space, enough

  to rip a hole through the light armor of an Imperial

  cruiser. And more than enough to reduce one entire wing

  of the building to charred splinters. Through the rising

  dust of fractured stone, Boba Fett could hear the screams

  and shouts of the Shell Hutts and their hired thugs as

  one pillar and then another toppled into the center of

  the hall, bringing down a section of roof and exposing

  the dark sky of Circumtore.

  D'harhan turned where he stood, segmented metal tail

  bracing himself against the recoil of the laser cannon

  borne by his shoulders and torso. The cannon's barrel

  rocked back in its housing as another white-hot bolt

  coursed across the hall, scattering a knot of

  mercenaries. The screams of the Shell Hutts actually

  diminished, their panic having increased to the point

  where all notion of escape had been abandoned.

  Tortoiselike, each one drew his head back into the safety

  of his floating cylinder; when the last throat wattle was

  past the circular metal collar at the front of the

  cylinder, a ring of crescent blades irised toward the

  opening's center, sealing off the Shell Hutt inside. The

  blind cylinders bobbed and collided with each other,

  pushed and spun by the blaster fire striking their

  riveted plates.

  A few meters away from Boba Fett, a blaster shot went

  straight toward the reception hall's ceiling; a quick

  glance to the side showed him that a shot from one of the

  mercenaries had struck Bossk at one side of his chest,

  knocking the Trandoshan off his feet and sending him

  splayed out on the dais's smoldering rubble. Fett

  swiveled the rifle in his hands and blew away the

  mercenary, a broken corpse even before he hit the floor.

  Another one of the mercenaries had taken command of

  the remaining dark-uniformed figures; Boba Fett could see

  the man at the hall's perimeter, signaling to the others

  and directing their fire. The aim of their blaster rifles

  turned away from Fett, as well as IG-88 and Zuckuss. A

  concentrated volley singed the air past the three bounty

  hunters. Crouching down, Boba Fett turned and saw

  D'harhan standing in the middle of the fusillade, like a

  watchtower braced against the onslaught of a storm; the

  blaster fire sowed hot sparks across the black metal, as

  though each hit was a lightning strike seen through

  illuminated clouds.

  D'harhan managed to get off one more shot of his own

  before he was cut down. The laser cannon roared, its

  massive bolt ripping open another section of the flame-

  scorched walls and scattering one wing of the

  mercenaries. Metal could have stood up to their fire even

  longer, but D'harhan's flesh was weaker than that; the

  torso beneath the laser cannon's housing was now wrapped

  in bloodied rags. His knees slowly gave way, and he

  toppled forward. The cannon's barrel struck the floor as

  though it had been one of the roof pillars giving way,

  gouging out a meter-long trench.

  He was still alive; Boba Fett could see the laboring

  of D'harhan's heart and lungs, the rise of the blood-

  smeared chest forcing itself against the curved mount of

  the laser-cannon housing. The black-gloved hands rose and

  tore feebly at the wounds, as though death were something

  that could be plucked from the torn flesh and exposed

  fragments of breastbone and rib.

  The cannon was alive as well; the indicators along

  the barrel showed an unblinking red, bright through the

  hissing steam. All it needed was a hand on the triggering

  mechanism, and the will to fire. ...

  Boba Fett threw away the blaster rifle he had taken

  from one of the dead mercenaries. Ducking beneath the

  fiery bolts crisscrossing the reception hall, he stepped

  behind the massive bulk of the fallen D'harhan; with his

  own adrenaline-charged strength, he gripped the

  semiconscious figure beneath the arms and half dragged,

  half lifted him up against the base of a broken pillar. A

  sudden gasp sounded from within the other's body as Fett

  grabbed and yanked loose the thick neural-feed cables

  that had been connected to D'harhan's spine, the hard-

  spliced socket just between his shoulder blades. The

  laser cannon's aiming systems automatically went into

  manual override status; Boba Fett crouched behind the

  black metal housing as the barrel swung upward.

  And into firing position. A small screen tucked

  underneath the rear of the housing lit up, with a

  crosshair grid zeroing in on the mercenaries positioned

  at the far side of the great reception hall. The barrel

  turned slightly as Boba Fett's hand jabbed at the

  controls, seeking a specific target; the grid's lines

  narrowed in and locked on the one dark-uniformed figure

  who had taken command of the others. Long-range thermal

  sensors in the laser cannon's tracking systems gave a

  clear outline of the mercenary behind a shield of bent

  and torn plastoid construction material. Enough to hide

  behind . . . but not enough to protect him. Fett hit the

  cannon's firing stud. The weapon's recoil trembled the

  black metal housing, its shock traveling all the way up

  his arms and into his own chest.

  The single bolt from the laser cannon took out most

  of the remaining mercenaries. When Boba Fett raised his

  head from behind the housing, he sighted through the

  clouds of steam, hissing louder now to dissipate the heat

  from the metal. The far side of the hall was gone now;

  the violet-tinged light of Circum-tore's skies was framed

  by twisted structural beams, their ends glowing molten.

  Across the open plaza beyond the reception hall, the

  bodies of the mercenary commander and the ones who had

  died with him were scattered like broken toys. Inside the

  hall, the few that were left alive had ceased firing,

  pointing the muzzles of their weapons up toward the

  ceiling; the brutal effectiveness of the laser cannon had

  set them to reconsidering their ill-paid devotion to the

  cause for which Gheeta had hired them. A couple of the

  mercenaries-the smartest of them, Boba Fett figured-made

  a show of tossing their blaster rifles onto the debris-

  covered floor in front of them, then raising their hands

  above their heads.

  "Cowards! Traitors!" A hysterical cry came from

  behind Boba Fett. With his hands still on the controls of

  the laser cannon, he turned his head and saw the repulsor-

  borne cylinder of the Shell Hutt Gheeta come darting

  forward into the center of the reception hall's ruins. "I

  paid you for results," shouted Gheeta, "not for you to

  run away and hide!" The crablike mechanical arms shook in

  impotent fury. "Get him! Now!" The floating cylinder

  turned as Gheeta jabbed a claw in Boba Fett's direction.

  "I order you

  Ghee
ta's words broke off as he saw the laser cannon's

  barrel swiveling toward him. His eyes widened in their

  fat-heavy sockets as the indicator lights glowed an even

  brighter red, as though they were points of blood

  squeezed out by Boba Fett's hands tightening on the black

  metal.

  "No..." Gheeta moaned in sudden fright. The crablike

  arms fluttered in front of him as the cylinder started to

  back away. "Don't..." He pulled his head back inside the

  cylinder's collar, which then began to iris shut.

  But not fast enough. Boba Fett pushed forward on the

  laser cannon's housing; steam hissed between his gloved

  fingers as he lowered his shoulder and put his weight

  into the thrust. Dragging the still-breathing body of

  D'harhan along, the weapon's barrel lurched forward. The

  black metal muzzle, shimmering with residual heat,

  slammed into the vacated collar of Gheeta's floating

  cylinder just as the curved blades of the seal mechanism

  locked down tight upon it.

  Boba Fett shifted his weight, now pushing down upon

  the rear of the laser-cannon housing. The barrel angled

  upward, with the Shell Hutt's cylinder attached like a

  ripe gourdfruit. When the barrel had reached its maximum

  elevation, Fett struck the firing stud with his fist.

  All eyes in the great reception hall-those of the

  other bounty hunters, the mercenaries left alive, even

  the other Shell Hutts who were brave enough to unseal the

  fronts of their cylinders when the fighting had

  quieted-turned toward the tapered metal shape that for a

  moment stood aloft on the black stem of the laser cannon.

  A few of the observers flinched, but continued watching

  as the weapon sounded its snarling roar, only slightly

  muffled by the object clamped onto the barrel's muzzle.

  The sound of the laser cannon's bolt echoed through

  the great reception hall, then faded like the last

  thunder of a storm broken by daylight. Lightning had

  flashed, contained with the cylinder caught at the end of

  the cannon's barrel; it had burst through the seams of

  the bolted durasteel plates, sending a rain of white-hot

  rivets arcing across the space and landing like sizzling

  hail on the rubble left by the battle. When the light of

  the laser-cannon bolt was gone, as quickly as it had

  flashed into being, the plates of the Shell Hutt's

  cylinder were singed around their edges; they rattled

  dully against each other as the cylinder contracted