Star Wars.

Boba Fett.

Pursuit.

by Elizabeth Hand.

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 ma.s.sed 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 ma.s.sive 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 a.s.sault.

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 pa.s.sage. "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.

The blow had not been fatal. But the pain was excruciating. Fortunately, he had not cried out. The droids still thought he was dead.

Far from it! Boba could feel his lungs expanding as he took in air.

He could feel the droids' servo-grips tightening around him. He was tall and muscular, and his body armor added to his bulk.

But the droids hoisted him up between them effortlessly, roughly - as though he was nothing but a sack of refuse. Or fuel for Wat Tambor's furnace...

Which, to them, he was.

Agh, he thought, gritting his teeth. He could definitely feel pain.

And he could see.

"The incinerator has been busy today," one of the droids commented as they began to stride quickly down the tunnel. "Much organic matter to feed on."

"Human sc.u.m," the second droid retorted. They stumbled as another blast rocked the fortress.

Boba blinked. Good thing I've still got my helmet on, he thought.

Otherwise they might notice my eyes are open.

He tried to find his bearings as the droids bore him down, down, down through a series of long, twisting pa.s.sages. Glowing lumens showed where the fortress walls had sustained considerable damage from the Republic's a.s.sault. Shattered droids were everywhere, as well as glowing heaps of molten metal.

Wonder who has the upper hand now? Boba thought. He hated the Jedi, but General Glynn-Beti had helped him gain entry into Mazariyan. The last Boba had seen of the battle, the Republic's troops were putting up a good fight against the Separatists. If Wat Tambor's forces had been weakened by the battle, it would be that much easier for Boba to escape and find his way back to his ship, Slave I.

But first he had to avoid being tossed into Wat Tambor's furnace!

He took a chance and flexed one of his hands. His strength was returning. As it did, the pain from Grievous's blast began to subside.

My body armor must've absorbed most of the blow, Boba thought gratefully. He could feel himself growing stronger, more alert. It was a real effort not to move and strike out at the droids.

But while sensation was slowly returning to his body, he still felt slightly groggy. His reflexes would not be as keen as they should be.

And he had no idea who, or what, he might encounter inside the fortress.

Better wait... he thought.

"This way," one of the droids announced. Boba did his best not to flinch as they made a sudden turn and began to descend down a steep incline.

The darkness took on an unmistakable reddish tinge. Inside his Mandalorian body armor, Boba started to sweat.

The good news is that I've recovered enough from that fungus to feel the heat, he thought with grim amus.e.m.e.nt. And the bad news? This must be the incinerator!

Around him, everything glowed as though it were molten. The droids'

shining silver limbs burned crimson and gold. The heat was intense and painful. A slight adjustment of his body armor's thermostatic cooling system would take care of that, but Boba didn't dare move to change it.

Not yet, anyway. He turned his head ever so slightly, praying that his helmet would hide any apparent motion from his droid captors. They seemed to take no notice.

"Wat Tambor will be departing shortly," one of the droids stated in its flat voice. "He wished to be informed when the spy was disposed of."

"Disposal is imminent," the other droid replied.

Boba stared through his helmet's visor as the droids carried him the last few steps to their destination. They were in a large, nearly airless room, devoid of any equipment or furnishings. A few meters away shone an incandescent square of light, blinding and seemingly as hot as the sun. Heat radiated from it in shimmering waves. A conveyor belt, the room's sole machinery, moved slowly toward the incinerator's opening.

Talk about too hot to handle, thought Boba. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his eyes. He couldn't move to wipe it away. Beneath him, the droids stopped. Their servogrips remained in place, holding Boba above their heads. He took a deep breath, then tightened his muscles until his body went taut.

Have to risk it - hope they don't notice!

The droids remained oblivious. In front of them the conveyor belt moved slowly, steadily, toward the incinerator.

And now Boba could see other shapes on it. Mangled knots of metal and plasteel, all that remained of damaged droids, and - shocking Boba - lifeless bundles of body armor, flesh, and charred weaponry.

Clones, he thought, and felt a stab of mingled pity and horror.

Helmets covered their faces, but Boba knew what he would see if their body armor was removed His father Jango's face. His own face... for Jango had been the template from which all the clones had been built. Including Boba, the only unaltered clone.

"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 pa.s.sage. 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 pa.s.sage 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...