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"Captain, do you copy?"

Boba tried not to breathe as the trooper moved with sure, heavy steps, until he was just an arm's length from where Boba was hidden. He was close enough that Boba could clearly see the back of his helmet.

Boba had seen the clones many times before, of course. He could remember them being raised by the thousands on Kamino. And he had met a young clone, 9779, on Aargau. Clones were known mainly by their numerical designation.

Could this be 9779, grown to his full size?

The thought made Boba feel slightly sick. He forced it from his mind, and stared from the shadows at the trooper. Like all the clones, the captain had his father's build. It also had Jango's strength. Boba could tell from how easily it hefted its weapon, a DC-15 rifle that would have made Boba's arm ache.

"Checking it out," the clone answered into its comlink. "I see no sign of an intruder. Hold your fire."

It gave one more look around the clearing. Then it slid its rifle back into an upright position, turned, and strode off.

"Whew." Boba let his breath out in relief. That was close!

He waited until the clone trooper was just a pale fleck among the mushroom trees. Then Boba began to follow it. He kept within the shadows of the overhanging fungus, moving swiftly and stealthily as a stalking cratsch.

Now and then a slender mushroom stalk would reach out tentatively to brush against his helmet, or touch his hand. Whenever this happened Boba would pause, holding his breath.

But it seemed as though Malubi's spores must have warned the other fungus of Boba's coming. Their tendrils would only touch him. Then they would withdraw. Sometimes a small puff of purple would appear above him.

Then he would see other mushroom trees ahead of him swaying gently.

Thanks, Xeran, Boba thought. And Malubi.

He patted the trunk of a very young malvil-tree, then stopped.

In front of him, the mushroom forest abruptly ended. Beyond it, the ground looked scorched. When he looked up he saw the hovering shadows of Republic ships, like black clouds in the purple mist. When he looked down, he saw black circles where transport vehicles had landed and departed. In other places, there were holes and small craters left by exploding weaponry. Smoking bits of vegetation were elsewhere. And other things, too. Things Boba wished he hadn't seen.

For reassurance he made sure the purple globe was still in his pocket. His hand tightened on his blaster.

He waited, trying to figure out what to do next. There was no point running out into the middle of a battle. Nine-tenths of any bounty hunter's success is proper planning, Jango had always told him.

"So all I need is a plan," Boba muttered.

He squinted through the haze of smoke and spores. From here he had a clearer view of Wat Tambor's citadel.

It sure didn't look any better. It was well-guarded, for one thing.

In addition to the gigantic black spines that protruded from the fortress, there were droids patrolling its perimeter.

Battle droids, Boba noted grimly. He counted thirty - not enough to fight a war, but more than enough to keep intruders at bay.

There were other droids, too. Crablike defense droids swarmed around a triangular opening that seemed to be Mazariyan's entrance. He saw several hulking modified super battle droids and mounted laser towers.

And, hovering above the peak of Wat Tambor's fortress, a great, dark, shapeless mass. It was like, a purplish-black thunderhead or a huge amoeba, floating over the battlefield.

"What's that?" Boba adjusted the focus on his helmet, then blinked, feeling a faint prickling behind his eyes as the form above him took on more solid outlines.

Xeran's spores were working. Suddenly he could see clearly. And what he saw was that the massive shape was not a cloud.

It was a fleet of Separatist fighters, cloaked by the spore-haze.

As Boba watched, one of the droidcommanded fighters fired upon the Republic's assault lines. A spurt of flame exploded