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There. That would give her a good two seconds of breathing room. She rolled over, scanning the chamber before her, trying to sort details out of the confusion of running visitors, purple smoke, shrilling alarms—

And Boba Fett.

She gaped at the sight of him, floating into the chamber atop a column of fire and smoke, dominating the scene. But the door behind him was now open. Visitors were already running through it, seeking escape from the chaos and danger of the room. Tahiri got up and sprinted past Fett’s rocket thrust. Just on the other side of the door, she spun, looking for the door’s control panel, hoping to send the metal barriers slamming shut to trap the YVH droid inside. But there was none, not on this side or the other.

The YVH droid rose and charged toward Booth Six, its gait suggesting that it would leap through the gap.

Boba Fett tilted forward. The small missile atop his rocket pack flew free, striking the YVH droid in its torso. The droid and several meters around him were suddenly replaced by a fireball that glowed evilly in yellows and reds. Tahiri ducked sideways, getting behind the blast shield offered by the edge of the door. The metal wall between her and the explosion rang with its force.

She peeked out. There was nothing but a smoking crater where the YVH droid had stood. Perhaps it wasn’t destroyed; an explosion that great could have picked it up and hurled it out of sight rather than destroying it, could have collapsed the floor and sent it plummeting to a lower level of the prison. But it was gone.

FETT ROARED OUT OF THE HALL. DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF TAHIRI, A black-haired man in health worker’s clothes jumped onto the control stand of a repulsor gurney waiting there, and an instant later a woman in prisoner yellows leapt onto the gurney itself.

Daala.

The gurney accelerated into motion, following Fett.

Tahiri sprinted, drawing on the Force to boost her speed, and caught up to the gurney from behind. Its operator and Daala faced ahead, their eyes on Fett, so neither saw her. She grabbed the collar of the operator’s tunic and yanked. As he tumbled off the back, she jumped on in his place and grabbed the controls. The gurney barely slowed or wobbled with the change of operators.

The hallway was full of purple smoke, shrieking visitors, and guards rushing toward the visitors hall. Some of the latter pointed blasters at the gurney. From above and ahead, Boba Fett fired his own blaster, sending them diving or scurrying for cover as the gurney roared past.

Tahiri couldn’t help but grin. The gurney was accelerating up to speeder bike rates of travel. This was not a stock repulsor gurney fresh from the factory.

They passed through three sets of blast doors, all of them open, and Tahiri saw daylight ahead. Suddenly they were out in an exercise yard. Streams of blasterfire from tower emplacements converged on Boba Fett, but he was too nimble, too adept in the air for any of the bolts to hit him.

Almost any of them. Tahiri saw a blast strike the center of his chest armor, dent it, turn the point of impact black. Fett spun in the air. The antenna on the side of his helmet swung free, dropping into the exercise yard. But his forward momentum was unchecked. As he completed a full spin, he regained control and his original course.

And then he and the gurney were outside the wide-open exterior gate.

Fett turned to starboard and accelerated. Tahiri followed. She knew Fett was no friend of hers, nor of any Jedi or former Jedi, but he clearly had an exit strategy.

Two quick kilometers farther, along a channel between two lengthy banks of skytowers, Tahiri saw what it was. On a pedway platform one level up was a large, curved shape beneath a sheet of silver reflective flimsi. Fett flew on ahead and landed beside it. He reached up and grabbed a fold of the cover. Hauling hand over hand, he pulled the flimsi free, revealing the distinctive curvilinear shape of Slave I, his personal spacecraft.

Tahiri piloted the repulsor gurney to land on that pedway a few dozen meters from Slave I. She brought