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By Root 255 0

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 scum," 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 passages. Glowing lumens showed where the fortress walls had sustained considerable damage from the Republic's assault. 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 amusement. 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