New Threat (8 page)

Boba nodded. “You’re welcome.” He was uncomfortably aware of Glynn-Beti’s keen gaze boring into him. But an instant later her attention was elsewhere.

“Trooper!” she commanded. “You may all resume your watch! As for you—” She turned to Ulu Ulix. “You will remain by my side for the rest of this maneuver.
Unless you prefer to wait on board the troopship?”

Ulu Ulix shook his head swiftly. “No, Master! I will obey this time.”

“Good.” Glynn-Beti began to walk away. But she had only taken a few steps when she stopped. She turned and stared at Boba.

Uh-oh,
he thought.

“What is your place in this battle, stranger?” she asked. Her voice was calm, but there was a threat hidden in it. “You are not part of my battalion. And you are obviously not
working for our enemy. You have not come from
there
—” She tilted her head at the citadel of Mazariyan. When she turned back to Boba her gaze was piercing. “We have sent
some of our most valued soldiers inside—ARC troopers. They seldom fail us. Not one has returned from that place. Have you?”

Boba hesitated. The Jedi might be able to detect a lie. If she did, she could take him prisoner, whether or not he had saved her Padawan. At worst, he might languish in a Republic cell. At best,
she could send him off-planet, back to Tatooine—where he would face the rage of Jabba the Hutt.

A prison cell might be preferable to that.

Boba stared back at Glynn-Beti. He was very glad she could not see his face behind his helmet.

“No. My sympathy lies with the Xamsters,” he said.

The Jedi seemed to mull this over. Finally she nodded. “very well. I will not detain you. The natives of Xagobah are in dire need of whatever help they are given.” She beckoned Ulu
Ulix to her side. “Come. We have much to do.”

“But Master—” Ulu stopped. He gazed up at a dark blur in the violet haze of Xagobah’s atmosphere. “What about the ramship?”

“We are well aware of the ramship, Ulu. Someone more experienced—and wiser—than you will deal with it.”

Ouch
!
thought Boba.
Wonder who that might be?

He watched as the Jedi and her Padawan headed back toward the AT-TE.

Just before they boarded the AT-TE, Glynn-Beti turned and shouted back to Boba, “Yes. Someone else will take care of the ramship. You, stranger, might want to launch your solitary attack
at that moment. Mind my words!” The Jedi Master then disappeared from view.

Boba quickly powered up his borrowed swoop. It gave a hoarse cough and sputtered into the air.

Boba circled back to where the siege was in full swing. The air blazed blue and black and silver with laser fire. Everywhere around the fortress, clone troopers were attacking Wat Tambor’s
droid forces.
What did the Jedi mean?
he wondered.

It looked like the Republic was in trouble.

The Separatists had launched a counterattack! “This isn’t good,” Boba muttered. “Not for me, at least!”

Boba had thought that Wat Tambor’s citadel was well-guarded before. Now he realized the canny Separatist had deliberately hidden the full power of his forces. Because suddenly the gaping
maw of Mazariyan yawned open. There was a horrible, thunderous clattering sound, and hundreds—maybe thousands—of droids came streaming from the fortress. Spider droids, super battle
droids, even dreaded and lethal droidekas, like gigantic insects rolling out of a rotten stump.

Boba gaze down at them, transfixed. “How am I going to get through that and into the fortress? There’s no way I can land without being seen and pulverized!”

He steered the swoop down for a closer look.

Too close.

With a grinding noise, one of the droideikas came to an abrupt halt. It swiveled and uncurled into firing position, its black, eyeless head pointed straight up—directly at Boba.

It fired.

“Aghhh!”

Too late, Boba yanked at the swoop’s controls. A blast of heat struck the swoop. At the same instant, Boba dove from it. He could feel the surge of fire through his protective boots. He
could hear the concussive blast roaring through the air like a seismic charge.

But all he could see was the explosion of laser fire all around him as he plummeted helplessly—right into the battle.

“Ummmpph!” With a grunt Boba smashed onto the ground. His body armor absorbed the blow, but it took him a moment to catch his breath. There was such a thick haze of
smoke and spores he could barely see. He blinked, trying to clear his vision.

What he was able to make out was not good: a clone trooper, just millimeters from his face!

“No way!” yelled Boba. He rolled onto his back and kicked out, just as the clone took aim. Boba’s feet connected with the clone’s knees. He wasn’t strong enough to
knock down the trooper. But Boba did throw him off balance.

And that was all it took. Boba was on his feet again, blaster raised. The clone towered above him, its face invisible behind its helmet. But something in the way it stood, something in the way
it held its blaster, made Boba hesitate.

Because, just for a flickering moment, it wasn’t a clone trooper there.

It was Jango Fett—Boba’s father.

Boba recognized Jango’s stance. He recognized Jango’s strength. He even recognized the way Jango’s head drew back slightly as he aimed his weapon. Only this wasn’t Jango
Fett. This was a clone trooper who had decided that Boba was an enemy.

“You’re not my father!” Boba’s voice was drowned in the blast from his Westar. “You’re a clone!”

The trooper’s aim was excellent—but Boba’s was better. In a blaze of flame and vapor, the clone trooper fell.

One down!
thought Boba.
Only a couple thousand to go.

He whirled, and found himself smack in the middle of the battle about 200 meters from the citadel walls. Above him, droid fighters shot from the citadel’s peak. Battle droids swarmed
around its base, blasting away. Clone troopers ran in formation. As they neared the fortress, the formation broke up. Individual troopers raced toward the battle droids. One clone got caught by a
hailfire missile and vanished into a thousand pieces.

Yuck!
thought Boba. He looked away quickly.

BARRAAAMMM!

Brilliant multicolored pulses of laser fire erupted from the clones’ blaster rifles. All were now aimed at the rolling, firing hailfire.

KRRRAARRROW!

A direct hit! One of the hailfire’s wheels disengaged and the clone’s body was dragged into the ground by the still churning second wheel. A few moments later it exploded in a fiery
blast.

But the Republic’s troops were still in danger. They were vastly outnumbered, for starters. And somewhere above them, the ramship was headed for their assault ship.

That was bad enough. But what was worse—the droidekas were laying waste to the clones. They rolled across the battlefield, safe within their shimmering forcefields. Laser fire bounced
from them harmlessly. Harmless for the droidekas, anyway. Some of the pulses ricocheted back and mowed down the very troopers who had fired them.

With a cry Boba dodged a sudden flare of blue. A super battle droid stalked toward him, took aim and—

BLAAM!

Boba fired. The upper half of the droid disintegrated into shards of flaming plasteel. Boba whirled and blasted another droid. It fell. Boba staggered backward, struggling for breath.

I can’t keep up with them
, he thought desperately.
There’s too many! The droids are fighting the clone troopers. The troopers are fighting the droids—

And they’re all firing at me!

Around him was chaos. Black smoke mingled with clouds of purple spores from malvil-trees and giant mushrooms caught in the crossfire. Boba adjusted his helmet, striving to see through the haze.
Xeran’s powder is wearing off, he thought with dismay.
The Republic’s getting wasted.
Not that he cared about the Republic. But if Wat Tambor was powerful enough to destroy
them, what chance did Boba have?

Plenty,
Boba thought grimly.
I’m not giving up.

A sudden roar made him look up. For a split second, every battle droid paused. As though they shared one mind, they all looked up, too.

“Starfighters!” cried Boba.

A phalanx of starfighters arrowed through the haze. Wat Tambor’s air defenses fired at them in a blaze of blinding energy. The starfighters’ leader banked sharply to the right. Boba
stared up at it, admiringly.

“He sure knows what he’s doing.” He thought of Ulu Ulix, and smiled. Then he adjusted his helmet’s focus as he took cover behind a wrecked vehicle. “Let’s get
a better look at this guy…”

But now the battle droids had also seen the fighter. A barrage of ground fire shot up toward it. The starfighter dove. Pulses exploded in the empty air as the ship raced downward through the
flak generated by the citadel’s air defenses. It made a lightning pass at the heads of the droids, decapitating dozens as it flew incredibly low. It was so close to the ground that Boba could
see who was piloting it.

“Skywalker!” Boba felt a spike of excitement. He had seen Anakin Skywalker from a distance in the arena of Geonosis. The young Padawan was older now, but Boba recognized
Anakin’s defiant gaze—and his skill. “He can really fly that thing!”

Anakin’s starfighter pulled up once more. A blaze of Separatist fire sparked around it. Then, without hesitating, the ship went into another dive. It came in low, pulling up at the last
moment as it lobbed an energy charge at the citadel.

KARRROOOM!

The charge exploded. Flaming spikes of durasteel flew everywhere. A raw smoldering hole appeared in the citadel’s side.

“Yes!” said Boba.

Wish I could do that!
Boba thought as another spasm of flame arced by him. Boba jumped, then ran through a throng of clones. He was now using all the skills he’d acquired as a
bounty hunter. His blaster fired without pause. Droids exploded in orange sparks—and clones fell left and right, as he fought his way toward the fortress.

This time, Boba didn’t feel bad at all.

Near the foot of Wat Tambor’s citadel, a homing spider droid had fallen. Its large form slumped over on two of its legs, forming a small, protected area.

Boba headed for this makeshift refuge. He had to leap over several dead clones, and the smoking wreckage of a swoop. But once in the shadow of the droid he was safe. For a few moments,
anyway.

Now what?

Boba crouched, panting, and stared out at the battlefield. The clone trooper reinforcements were holding their own against the Separatists, but were unable to advance. Boba doubted they’d
be able to defeat Wat Tambor’s forces. The clones were organic and could be killed. And they
were
being killed in great numbers. The droids couldn’t regenerate, but there
seemed to be an endless supply of them streaming from the citadel’s mouth.

But could it really be endless? Surely even Wat Tambor’s army had a limit?

Boba peered out from the crook of the fallen droid’s elbow. Far above him, Anakin Skywalker’s starfighter led the Jedi forces in the air attack. They were targeting the spider
droids.

As Boba watched, he saw another hailfire come spinning out of the shadows of the malvil-trees. It rolled toward the center of the battlefield, scattering clones like leaves. It stopped. It
raised its missile launcher, taking aim at one of the starfighters. With a deafening burst of energy, a barrage of plasma pulses went soaring upward—directly toward Anakin Skywalker’s
yellow starfighter.

He’s doomed!
thought Boba.

But the Padawan had other plans. Just as the plasma bursts approached it, he arrowed his starfighter to one side. The energy bolts continued onward, up, up, up through Xagobah’s violet sky—

And found another target—the ramship!

“Whoa!” Boba whooped.

An immense starburst of pure energy like a thunderbolt surged out from where the ramship had been. Boba tensed, waiting for fallout; but none came. The energy stored in the ramship was so dense
and powerful that the explosion caused it to self-implode.

Score one for the Republic!

Quickly, Boba scrambled between the fallen spider droid’s legs. He stared out at the battlefield. For a moment, everything had come to a standstill. Battle droids and clones alike gazed up
at the waves of energy rippling through Xagobah’s atmosphere—violet, scarlet, gold.

“Very pretty,” muttered Boba. He glanced at the entrance to Mazariyan. He couldn’t believe it.

No droids were there!

Boba looked around again. And yes, battle droids and sentry droids alike all seemed distracted. This was the moment Glynn-Beti had foretold!

It’s the energy surge!
Boba realized.
It’s momentarily scrambled their command centers.

This was his chance!

Staying as low as he could, Boba darted from the shelter of the spider droid. He raced toward the fortress, breathing hard. The entry to Mazariyan gaped, faintly gleaming. Just a few more meters
and he was there. None of the clone troopers would make it in time; they were still too far off.

Boba paused, hand on his blaster. Behind him, the sounds of battle began once more. In front of him was a problem: The maw of Wat Tambor’s citadel opened onto the Separatist’s
stronghold—and blades of purple fungus ringed the entrance like razor teeth. Rows of spines stuck out threateningly, ready to pierce any intruder. He recalled what Xeran had told him and
suddenly Boba understood.

Wat Tambor had perverted Xagobah’s fungus to his own ends—inside his citadel.

I have to get in there,
Boba thought desperately.
But how?

Boba shoved his blaster into his belt. He drew his vibroshiv.

No,
he thought, and reluctantly replaced it.
That will just make it worse.

Boba’s hand moved from his belt. That was when he felt something in his pocket. Something round.

And suddenly Boba remembered.