Free New Threat by Elizabeth Hand Page B

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.
    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