excitement. “Finally! Our main course has arrived!”
“Wrong kitchen!” Boba yelled hastily.
He ran back into the hall. From the far end came shouts. He heard a deep voice he recognized as Durge’s. He heard the loud explosive burst from a blaster.
He heard footsteps and an angry yell. They were very close.
Just ahead of Boba was the last door. Huttese letters and numerals were carved on it.
“This better be kitchen number seven,” said Boba grimly.
He shoved the door open. Several men and women in Tatooine clothing stood around a long table. Strange objects covered it. They looked like brightly colored toys, or perhaps they were weapons? Boba couldn’t tell.
But whatever they were, they smelled good. No. They smelled great.
“Can I help you?” a woman asked.
Boba stood still. For a second he was dizzy. He breathed in the warm sugar, chocolate, scry-mint. He thought he might faint from hunger.
“Young sir!”
Boba blinked. In front of him was Gab’borah. The old man wore a bright green cook’s robe and hat. One hand held a large spoon. The other grasped a wiggling eyestalk. Its round blue eye peered at Boba.
“I’m putting the finishing touches on tonight’s dessert,” explained Gab’borah. He turned briskly and walked to the table. He bent and set the eyestalk in the middle of one of the bright objects. It was not a toy or a weapon, Boba saw now. It was a cake.
“There!” said Gab’borah proudly. He beamed at Boba. “I’m so glad you came to visit me!”
From the hallway behind them came a sudden yell. Boba whirled. He yanked the door shut. He locked it.
“I need your help!” he gasped. “Now!”
The old man stared at him. An instant later he nodded.
“Go!” he said. He shooed away the other cooks. Then he looked at Boba again.
“What is it?” he asked in a low voice.
Another bellow came from behind the closed door. Gab’borah raised a knowing eyebrow.
“Ah - now I understand!” he said. “It is Durge. Jabba has set him loose on you.”
“Right,” said Boba. He looked around desperately. “Gab’borah, I need to get out of here fast. Not just out of this room. I need to get away from the entire fortress.”
Gab’borah frowned. He and Boba glanced at the door. It was shaking. In a moment, Durge would burst through.
“Come with me,” whispered the old man. He crossed the room, Boba at his heels. “Here - “
Gab’borah opened a door. Inside was a sort of closet, and another door. The closet was filled with junk.
Gab’borah muttered, “Now, I know it’s here somewhere…”
The old man pawed through everything, searching. Old kitchen tools, bowls, and pans, discarded stove parts, cutlery…
And, hanging beside the door, a jet pack.
“Here it is!” Gab’borah grabbed the jet pack and handed it to Boba. “You see, I too am always thinking of escape!”
Boba examined the jet pack. It was an older model and designed for an adult. He looked at the fuel supply canisters.
“They’re still full” he said. He looked gratefully at Gab’borah and grinned. “Thanks - this is great!”
“It is my pleasure,” said the old man with a bow.
He watched as Boba adjusted the straps. Then Boba slung it onto his back. From the corridor came a deafening boom.
“Mandalorian runt!” a voice roared. Boba looked out in time to see Durge crash through the kitchen door.
“Go now!” cried Gab’borah. He pushed open the door inside the supply closet. He shoved Boba through it. “Quickly!”
“Whoa,” exclaimed Boba.
He stood on a narrow space, hundreds of meters above the ground. Around him was the immensity of Jabba’s fortress. Above, two orange suns burned and dazzled. Heat flashed down like toxic rain.
Below, so distant it was like a flaming mirage, stretched the Dune Sea.
“Out of my way, old man!” shouted Durge.
“Go!” cried Gab’borah as the huge bounty hunter pushed him aside.
Boba looked back. He didn’t need any more urging. Just meters away, the murderous bounty hunter stood with his blaster aimed right at him.
“Now I’ve got you right where I want you!” Durge jeered. “Ready to die?”
“Not this time!” yelled Boba. He yanked his helmet over his face. He switched on the jet pack’s ignition. Flame spurted behind him. Heat seared the back of his legs.
But Boba had no time to think about that. He had no time to think about anything.
“Wh0000 - eeeeeee!” Boba yelled.
Beneath him the world fell away.
He was flying!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO