[Boba Fett] - 6

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.