[Boba Fett] - 6(3)

“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.