Authors: Elizabeth Hand
Xeran’s spore-globe.
What was it Xeran had said?
“If you have need of camoflage, crush this.”
Boba pulled the globe from his pocket. He stared at the purple sphere in the palm of his hand.
It looked harmless. And Xeran had said it was harmless—to Boba. But he had also said the spores acted as chemical messengers. Could they somehow damage the citadel?
Well, here goes nothing!
Boba glared up at the massive structure. Then he raised his hand, and, hoping this wasn’t a mistake, he crushed the globe.
It was like the energy surge that had destroyed the ramship. Only this surge was darkest purple and smelled faintly of spices.
And it was, somehow, sentient. Boba watched in awe as a vast spore-cloud enveloped the base of the fortress. The cloud moved like a gigantic paramecium. And as it did, the spines nearest to Boba
drooped. As Boba stared, fascinated, he saw more metallic spines struggling to emerge.
But for the moment the spore-cloud was stronger. The spines withered. New ones wriggled helplessly, then seemed to melt away. But more kept coming, needle-sharp, and Boba quickly realized that
the spores were just a temporary solution. And whatever camoflage they offered would be temporary, too.
Now!
he thought, and turned back to the entrance. Sure enough, the rows of spines had withered. They hung in limp black ribbons around the opening. Boba lunged forward, head down.
Around him the spore-cloud was already starting to disperse.
If I can just get inside…
Tiny spines began to poke through the entryway. Tiny razor-sharp petals thrust from the edges of the opening. Boba grabbed his vibroshiv and slashed at them. Then, with one last desperate lunge,
he leaped forward. Metallic strands of fungus slashed at his helmet. Writhing silvery vines slithered from the entryway—
Too late!
With a gasp, Boba’s feet connected with the ground. He staggered forward into a murky purplish tunnel, heedless of the spikes behind him. Beneath his boots the floor trembled like
kallil-virus jelly. From the curved durasteel walls, pale silvery fronds and stems waved like dead fingers. There was a smell of scorched metal—and a faint, ceaseless
thrum
as if
some unimaginably vast machine heart was beating somewhere out of sight.
Boba took a deep breath. Then, with every bit of courage he could command, he stepped forward—
Into the citadel of Wat Tambor.
It took several minutes for Boba’s eyes to adjust to the dimness.
Yet it was not completely dark. An eerie greenish haze hung over everything. Glowing orbs appeared to be set into the fortress’s curved, metallic walls. When Boba drew close to one, he saw
that it was not an orb, but a mushroom—a luminous mushroom. Wat Tambor had bioengeneered the fungus to merge with metal and plasteel circuitry. Phosphorescent bacteria made it gleam. When
Boba touched it, glowing pale green slime stuck to his glove.
“Ugh.” Hastily Boba wiped it off. He didn’t want to be any more noticeable than he already was!
He began walking down the hallway. The walls were smooth and metallic and curved, as was the ceiling. They were covered by a film of squishy, violet fungus that squelched beneath his feet. But
there were other things in the walls, too. Blinking chips and miniature monitors, shining crimson threads of circuitry like blood vessels.
Wat Tambor’s genius had not been content with changing the malvil-trees’ genetic code. He had developed all kinds of nanotechnology. This had enabled him to fuse computer
intelligence into the fungus citadel as well.
Yet the monitors did not seem to be alert to Boba’s presence. He stopped in front of one, holding his breath: nothing.
The power surge from the ramship blast must have scrambled their circuits, he thought. But that won’t last long…better hurry!
Boba moved as quickly and stealthily as he could. He watched for droids but saw none. Now and then another curving passage would join the central tunnel. Boba peered down these.
What he saw made him content to stay in the main passage. The walls in those tunnels had strange, lumpy shapes in them. Shapes that sometimes moved or kicked or flailed. Boba wasn’t
certain what they were.
But he had a pretty good idea—he remembered the last ARC troopers Glynn-Beti had spoken of.
And Xeran’s people—the Xamsters who had struggled against the evil Separatist. Boba gritted his teeth. He thought of the gentle malvil-trees. He thought of the gentle Xeran, forced
to take up arms against Wat Tambor. Boba’s hatred of Wat Tambor grew.
I will show no mercy,
he thought fiercely.
Xeran’s people can no longer avenge themselves. I will take
vengeance for them!
And, of course, I’ll get Jabba’s bounty, too.
The passage began to climb slowly upward. As it did, it curved, as though Boba were climbing some gigantic spiral staircase. He passed shimmering walls where monitors flickered yellow and green
and red. He passed a room like the hollow chamber of a human heart, pulsing slowly in and out. He passed tube-shaped openings that gave him a fragmented view of the battle below.
But he passed no droids. He passed no clones. As far as Boba could tell, he was the only thing that walked inside of Mazariyan.
And that made him nervous.
Could Wat Tambor have left? Could he have somehow escaped before Boba arrived here to capture him?
Boba frowned.
I sure hope not.
Things had been bad enough outside, with the citadel under siege. He suspected they could get much worse if he was found inside by Wat Tambor’s troops—or the Republic’s.
He continued his journey, in and up. The air grew thick and heavy. Boba made sure his helmet’s intake filter was working. He thought of the violet haze of spores that surrounded this
planet. He could only imagine what kind of disgusting, protective spores were produced inside Mazariyan.
Sometimes an unpleasant thought would work its way through Boba like a splinter.
What if I never find him? What if I can’t find my way out?
He was working on pure intuition now. The curved passage seemed to spiral endlessly up into the fortress. Sometimes it would branch. When that happened, Boba would choose one way or another, on
instinct.
He came to another place where the tunnel divided. To his left, it curved upward, its smooth walls gleaming purple. To Boba’s right, the passage curved slightly downward. Here the tunnel
had a deeper glow, almost indigo.
Wonder what that means?
thought Boba.
For a moment he paused, thinking. Then he placed his hand on his blaster, and walked boldly into the right-hand passage.
He hoped he’d made the right choice.
Up until now he had—but not anymore.
Boba didn’t know it yet. But his good fortune was about to dissipate like the malvil’s spores.
The air here was warmer; so deep and dark a blue it was almost black. Boba didn’t want to risk shining a light in the tunnel. He adjusted the infrared on his helmet, but
that seemed to make it worse. So he moved very slowly, feeling his way. His gloved hands stuck to the slick walls. The soft, dank floor sucked at his boots. Worse, the faint thrumming sound was
louder here. He could feel the floor vibrating under his feet. Ahead of him, the tunnel’s walls grew uneven. As Boba drew closer, he quickly yanked his hand away.
Flabby, pale, fingerlike growths extended from the wall’s surface. As Boba stared, they wriggled like the tendrils of a Bestine sea anemone. The tendrils were dark purple. Their tips were
crimson.
“The Xabar fungus!” Boba exclaimed, recoiling. He remembered Xeran’s warning: The tentacles released a paralyzing toxin.
“Who goessss there?”
A hissing voice slashed through the air. Boba looked up sharply.
“Stranger—identify yourself!”
Boba felt his stomach clench—but not with fear. Anger had been building inside him ever since he entered the fortress.
Now it boiled over.
A shadowy figure stood before him. Tall, with greenish skin, cold deep-set eyes, a lipless mouth. Even in the indigo darkness Boba recognized him.
The Clawdite, Nuri!
It had been two years since Boba had last seen him. That was on Aargau. The shapeshifter had been smaller then. So had Boba.
But Boba was definitely bigger now—bigger, and stronger, and heavily armed. And this Clawdite had betrayed Boba. Boba had trusted him. In return, the shapeshifter had stolen what
remained of his father’s fortune.
“Nuri,” Boba said in a low, controlled voice. He saw the Clawdite’s eyes narrow. “You owe me.”
“Owe you?” The Clawdite did not recognize him. His gaze shifted uncertainly from Boba to the passage behind him.
“That’s right,” said Boba. He drew his vibroshiv.
He lunged for the shapeshifter. As he did, Nuri’s form seemed to melt. His neck grew longer and longer. His arms and legs shrank into nothingness. His head narrowed. Long, knife-sharp
teeth filled his mouth. Feathered scales covered his body. Where the Clawdite had been, a huge arrak snake drew back to strike. Its glittering green eyes fixed on Boba. Then, hissing furiously, it
wrapped its coils around him.
“Not so fast!” Boba yelled. He struggled against the thick, powerful serpentine shape. The arrak snake’s coils began to tighten. Boba fought for breath. His vibroshiv fought to
discover some weak spot in the snake’s scaly armor—
And found it! Just beneath the snake’s fanged jaw there was a patch of flesh unprotected by scales. Boba plunged the vibroshiv there—when once again the shapeshifter’s form
changed!
In place of the arrak snake was a copper-colored dinko. It had crushing jaws, and pointed talons the length of Boba’s arm. Its jaws snapped at Boba. When he kicked back at it, a
foul-smelling spray squirted from the dinko.
“Ugh!” Boba staggered backward. For a moment even his Mandalorian helmet was no help—the fumes choked him. Then his secondary filters kicked in. Coughing and shaking, Boba
struck back. The dinko snarled, lashing at him with one long, pointed talon. Boba’s hand fumbled for his blaster. He grabbed the weapon and was just raising it to fire, when the dinko
abruptly faded.
Going, going…gone.
“Hey—!”
Boba blinked, trying to find whatever the shapeshifter had become. And saw a giant fefze beetle, the same color as the walls. It crawled through the toxic Xabar fungus. Then it scuttled into the
shadows.
“No!” Boba shouted and lunged after the escaping insect. But he could barely see it in the darkness. Desperately he took aim with his blaster.
No, wait
—Boba shook his head.
That’s what he wants! If I fire, I’ll alert everyone in the fortress—assuming there’s someone here!
He shoved his weapon back onto his belt. He could just make out the beetle skittering down the tunnel. Boba took a step back, then took a running leap. As he flew through the air he leaned
forward, keeping the black shape in sight.
Uuumph!
With a grunt Boba fell. The slimy floor beneath him shuddered. His hand grasped at darkness for the beetle—
And got it!
“You’re not going anywhere!”
This time Boba kept a firm hold on the slick scales. Moments later he was grappling with the full-grown Clawdite.
“Don’t forget, I have this,” Boba hissed. His vibroshiv suddenly hovered inches above Nuri’s neck. He felt the shapeshifter slump in defeat.
“That’s better.” Boba stared coldly at Nuri. The Clawdite glared back at him. “Now—I need an answer. Fast. Where is Wat Tambor?”
Nuri bared his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Boba drew the vibroshiv to within a hairbreadth of Nuri’s flesh. “Do you want to feel how much closer this can get?” he whispered menacingly. “I know who you are, Nuri. I
know you helped the Techno Union spring Wat Tambor from prison. Now I want to know—where is he?”
The Clawdite hissed. Its evil eyes glittered. It stared at Boba’s vibroshiv. Then it drew a long shuddering breath.
“That way—” Nuri’s head twitched, indicating the passage leading down. “The central chamber. He’s there.”
“Is he well-guarded?”
Nuri’s eyes fixed on Boba. The vibroshiv hummed above the Clawdite’s neck.
“No,” said the shapeshifter reluctantly. “He sent the last of his droid forces to join battle with the Republic. But Grievous is coming—and he will bring
reinforcements.”
“Grievous?” Boba frowned. “Who’s that?”
“The General.” The Clawdite stared at him with hatred. A slow, nasty smile spread across his face. “Whoever you are, I can see that you are working alone. The Republic will not
come to your aid. You will meet General Grievous soon enough, stranger—and when you do, he will destroy you!”
Boba snarled in rage. “Those were your last words, Clawdite!”
He began to press the vibroshiv against the shapeshifter’s jugular vein. Then he stopped.
If Nuri’s body is found, Wat Tambor will know there’s an intruder inside his fortress. But if I let him go, he’ll sound the alert….
Boba looked around the dim tunnel. His gaze lit on a clump of the paralyzing Xabar fungus.
That’s it!
He began to drag the Clawdite toward the fungus. Nuri fought furiously. But Boba was stronger.
“I’ve been really curious about how this stuff works,” he said. He pinned the Clawdite to the ground, then grabbed the shapeshifter’s arm. “Now I can find
out.”
Nuri struggled as Boba pushed his arm down. Sensing prey, the Xabar’s tentacles reached upward, wriggling in anticipation.
Closer…closer…
The Clawdite’s hand hung above fungus. Then, like pale, grasping fingers, the tentacles grabbed him.
“Unnnhhh…!”
Abruptly the Clawdite went slack. He hung, dead weight, from Boba’s hands. Boba recoiled, worried that the toxin might somehow reach him.
“Nuri?” he said in a low voice. “Nuri?”
The Clawdite sprawled before him. He looked dead. He had no pulse. He was not breathing. His eyes stared upward, blank and cold as stone. When Boba gingerly touched his arm, it felt stiff.