In spite of everything, there were still times when Kyle Katarn had trouble believing the places his life had taken him. One day he was a dirt farmer on Sulon in the Outer Rim; the next a student in the Imperial Academy of Carida. One day he was leading a strike on an asteroid base as a soldier for the Empire; the next he was breaking into an Imperial research facility on Danuta, a Rebel agent. One moment he was leading a daring raid on Kessel, striking into the heart of the Supreme Slavelord's private fortress...

And the next moment he was being welcomed into the expansive private office of that same Slavelord as a guest.

"This is my abode as a humble servant of his Imperial majesty, the Emperor," Trioculus announced as he preceded them through the tall-double doors. "I bid you all a dark welcome."

"Cozy place," Kyle remarked, containing a sneer. The place was huge, with aisles of holobooks on the left and right. A long wroshyr-wood table was suited as much for feasting as for a conference. A multi-ringed assemblage of crystals glowed overhead, showering them all with light. Past a row of seats and a large, imposing black desk, massive windows looked out on the sprawling wastes of Kessel and the faintly glittering lights of Kessendra city. The clear pink skies were fading to aquamarine as the system's primary star set. It was exactly the sort of indulgent setup he'd expect from an Imperial functionary: serving himself with fruits produced by the laboring multitudes beneath him, the oppressed masses of Palpatine's evil regime.

Per their agreement, Kyle was accompanied only by Jan, Tash, and R2-Q8, and they had disarmed themselves. The rest of the strike team (including Wade Vox) was waiting in the garden under the "protection" of Trioculus's stormtroopers. Meanwhile, the Bloodshark's crew remained on standby. Kyle had been stunned by Tash's gambit, and absolutely floored by the fact that it seemed to have worked. Despite himself, despite his ruthless survival instincts and overwhelming cynicism, he dared to allow himself a sliver of hope that the girl—guided by her Force sense, as she claimed—had been right, and they actually stood a chance of securing the Lord Overseer's cooperation.

Odious though it was to think of cooperating with any Imperial, much less the Slavelord of Kessel, Kyle was relieved. For all his ruthlessness, he had come close to cracking back in that garden. He'd already lost several comrades at Far Qasqi; loudmouth though Wade was, Kyle was not ready to lose him. Besides that, even considering the situation tactically—at the rate they had been going, it seemed unlikely that they would accomplish their objective without taking several other casualties, especially once Imperial reinforcements converged on them.

And so, for the first time, he was choosing—really choosing—to put his trust in Tash.

Or rather, he supposed, to put his trust in the Force.

Now he'd see where that would get them.

Trioculus led them toward his desk, his arms folded behind him. Kyle thought it a sign either of confidence or of arrogance that the Slavelord felt comfortable showing his back—not to mention being outnumbered. Clearly, he still considered himself in control of the situation. Admittedly, in many ways he was.

A thin, narrow-headed droid with shining photoreceptors approached them from the corner of the room. "Shall MD-5 bring you any refreshments?" asked Trioculus. "Water? Calamarian C-tea?"

"We're good, thanks," Kyle said gruffly. No matter how affable this guy tried to be, he wasn't going to be taken in. Trioculus had worked thousands of slaves to their deaths, and he had killed thousands more when putting down revolts. That wasn't something any Rebel could overlook.

"As you wish." With the wave of one black-gloved hand, Trioculus dismissed the droid. "I should credit you for your bravery and spirit, young Tash Arranda. You've truly impressed me—and piqued my curiosity. "

There was a conspicuous boom as MD-5 closed the double-doors, sealing them within the office. As Trioculus began to circle the desk, he continued, "As a show of good faith, I will take the first word in our little parlay, and then allow the four of you to make your case. Do not think me too merciful, however." He sat down in a black command chair that could well have been a throne. "Should you fail to convince me, neither you nor any of your Rebel friends will leave this place alive."

At the Slavelord's insistence, Kyle, Jan, and Tash sat down, while R2-Q8—who carried the files which would hopefully persuade their "host"—rolled to a stop beside them.

Trioculus steepled his gloved fingers, and Kyle tried not to pay too much attention to his third eye. "You claim to know a few things about my activities already—and some of them are true." His three eyes alternated between Kyle and Jan. "I doubt traitors like you would understand, but there are many hazards and temptations that beset the Emperor's loyal subjects. Powerful underworld syndicates are constantly trying to extend their influence, to worm their way into Imperial interests through bribery, blackmail and extortion. Black Sun, the Zann Consortium, the Hutts..." From the look on his face, the last word was a curse.

"These are only the largest such organizations we know of. For all purposes the galaxy has a limitless supply of criminals. Lamentably, far too many leaders in the Empire are willing accomplices with such scum. Men like Harkov, who defected to your Alliance some years for the promise of mere wealth...and who paid the appropriate price for his treason."

"Blee zoonoo-wee booorp," protested R2-Q8, while Kyle and Jan's faces tightened.

Trioculus's smug smile faded, and he paused, evidently choosing his next words with care. Understandably, he would not give any more information than he thought necessary. "Some time ago, I was discreetly contacted by a shadowy organization which was very careful in preventing its transmissions being traced. They wished to purchase an old bulk freighter from me—the Gravestone, as you correctly identified it. They also wanted me to secretly sell them regular shipments of rare morpheon spice—which, again, you mentioned."

"So you agreed," Kyle snapped. "You're another greedy Imperial functionary like so many others: sitting in this palace on top of a mountain of spice, enriching yourself. But even with all the Emperor's favors, you can't turn down the chance for some extra profit on the side, making shady deals under the table."

He couldn't help but make that jab even though he knew it was dangerous. In answer, Trioculus's face darkened. A brief fire seemed to blaze in his three eyes, and for that instant Kyle feared that he had indeed gone too far.

However, the Supreme Slavelord was merely annoyed. "Certainly not. As I said, these criminals were extremely careful. I did not have enough information to track them down, nor even to identify them. So I struck a deal with them. I allowed them to believe that I am one of those degenerate, unprincipled officials to which you refer—like Harkov the defector," he added nastily. "I sold them the Gravestone and have been been selling them spice as well, but only as a means of gaining their confidence. Then, once I had gathered enough information about them, and made the necessary arrangements—then I would make my move and wipe these scum from the face of the galaxy."

He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the shiny black desk, resting his head on his joined fists. "I have given you some information—again, as a show of good faith. Now it is your turn. What do you know about this organization? And how will you prove it to me—to convince me to accept your help, rather than turning you all over to the Emperor?"

Kyle straightened in his chair. "There's a lot we can tell you. Especially the droid."

And they cast aside whatever reservations they had and did just that. Kyle and Jan told their stories, and Tash told hers. R2-Q8 backed them all up with numerous holoprojections from the Bryar Force's main investigations. They told Trioculus about the crimes and the scandal of Crix Madine, cover-up and obfuscations. The perversions of Utric Sandov and the depravities of Deena Demarakesh. The trials and travails of the Arrandas on the Hospital Platform and afterward. It took hours, and by the time they were done, Kessel's primary had set, and a deep, stygian night had settled over the Kessendra region.

Kyle had no idea how their host would react to all this information. For some time he remained critical and interrupted their narrative many times. He was probably incredulous at the mere concept of a bunch of Rebels asking him for help and giving him a look at the inside workings of the Alliance—even if it was out of desperation.

Besides that, he seemed to be taking an interest in Tash Arranda which did not sit well with either Kyle or Jan. Whenever she talked, he watched her with a softer expression than he showed her to the others, and he asked for details about their family which seemed largely irrelevant to the topic at hand. Why did they not seek help from the Imperial authorities after their homeworld's unfortunate destruction; why did they not seek out an Imperial orphanage after their uncle's disappearance, and so on. But it was the uncle in question who seemed a persistent distraction for him.

"Hoole?" he repeated at one point, as though recalling something he'd forgotten for some time. "You mean Mammon Hoole—the Imperial scientist?"

Tash stared at him like a wooly-nerf caught in a landspeeder's c-beams. "N-no, he—he's not an Imperial," she said, squirming.

"The Shi'ido? The famous anthropologist? Alumnus of the Chandrilan Academy of Sciences?" Trioculus pressed, leaning forward slightly, and though the span of his desk separated them, Kyle couldn't shake the feeling that he was way, way too close for comfort, especially considering the look on Tash's face.

On the side, this was in fact puzzling information. Neither Tash nor Zak had mentioned that their mysterious uncle had ever been affiliated with the Empire, and yet it seemed that Trioculus knew about him somehow. The Arranda family persisted in being an enigma.

Anyway, though, that wasn't important right now. Trioculus's fixation on the subject was disturbing. And the way he was staring at the girl with his third eye...if Kyle didn't know better, he'd think it was...

"We're getting off topic here," he snapped.

Trioculus frowned in irritation, but he allowed Kyle to steer the discussion again. As they continued, he asked fewer and fewer questions.

When R2-Q8 got into the details of the Transcendent—the contents of the image caster, the "rituals", the images from the datapads of Crix Madine and of Utric Sandov (during which Tash was instructed to avert her eyes from R2's holoprojector)—he asked no questions at all. His face—handsome but for the eye on his forehead—rippled and made expressions which Kyle would never expect to see there. Eventually the Slavelord rose to pace back and forth while listening to their narrative, occasionally pausing to plant a fist on the edge of his desk and stare into its ebony surface, as though wracked by troubling thoughts. When they had finally finished he was leaning on both hands, his head bowed, a dangerous silence surrounding him.

His voice was a ghost of itself when he finally broke the silence. "Had I not seen this with my own eyes...I would not be able to believe it. These beings I have aided...they are truly the most wicked beings in the galaxy. Far worse than the Rebels, Black Sun, or even the Hutts.

Kyle—who was also on his feet—crossed his arms. "Really?"

Trioculus raised his head...and the collapsed look on his face, the dimness in his strange eyes, drained strength from Kyle's legs. "I may be a slaver," he said. "A murderer...an inhuman monster...but I recognize the purity and preciousness of a child. The beauty of...innocence."

With a deep breath, he drew himself back up to his towering height, and in that action seemed to regain some of his earlier composure. Clamping his gloved hands at the small of his back, the Imperial wandered away a few steps to cast a forlorn stare out the window, over the dark landscape of Kessel.

"My own mother perished in those mines," he said gravely, "long ago. My third eye is an inheritance from her—and because of it, I was despised by all of my classmates. I was excluded, abused, reviled. My innocence was stolen from me. In spite of that—indeed, perhaps because of that—I know that the innocence of children must be protected."

"Then I guess we have something in common after all," Kyle realized.

He was, unironically, stunned. He would never expect a reaction like this from any ranking Imperial official, much less a ruthless slavelord who mercilessly killed those who defied him. Yet Tash Arranda saw in this man something that no one else had been able to.

Trioculus returned to them, rapidly regaining his former regal bearing. "I misjudged you, Katarn. You are right: we must join our forces against this...this scourge upon the galaxy. Up until now I have concealed some information from you, but now I will reveal all—so that you may use it to put an end to this madness."

Jan rose and moved to stand protectively beside Tash. "So you'll let us leave in peace—all of us?"

"I will overlook your Rebel activities this time if it means the end of the Transcendent."

"Okay," piped up Tash. "Then tell us where they are. Tell us where we can find my brother."

"Not so fast," said Kyle, recovering himself from his own excitement. "First of all, you said you were working with the Transcendent in order to gather information about them. Before you share what you've been holding back, how about you tell us how you've been learning about them in the first place?"

"We'll be happy to explain that, as well," said Trioculus calmly.

"We? What do you mean, we?" demanded Jan.

Trioculus pressed a button on his desk, causing a section of the nearest holobook case to swing outward, revealing a hidden passage. From that doorway strode a tall humanoid covered head to foot in weathered battle armor. R2-Q8 shrieked, while Kyle and Jan reflexively reached for blasters which they didn't have.

Tash leaped from her chair, knocking it over, and gasped, "Boba Fett!"

The man threw back his helmeted head and laughed crudely. "Boba Fett? Hah!" He jabbed a thumb into his chest. "You don't need that fossil when I'm around."

While the four Rebels stared in shock, Trioculus cleared his throat. "This is Jodo Kast, a bounty hunter whose services I have discreetly contracted on a number of occasions. I contrived things so that the organization—the Transcendent—hired him to provide extra security for the Gravestone and its cargo of morpheon spice." His mouth widened with a sinister smile. "Little do they know that Kast remains in my employment. While protecting the freighter, he has been able to locate the Transcendent's base of operations, as well as to discover some details about it."

Tash's eyes did not leave the bounty hunter. "But you—we—he—you attacked us at Far Qasqi!" she sputtered. "We might've succeeded there, if it wasn't for you!"

The bounty hunter took a few steps closer, and though the name was unfamiliar, Kyle knew immediately that this absolutely was not Boba Fett. The real Fett didn't have this flamboyant swagger, nor did he have that accent.

"Well, excuse me, missy," Kast retorted, "but I didn't know we were on the same side there. I'd have thought you'd be happy to get things cleared up."

Sure enough, that spun up Tash's turbines even more. "You killed Polio Jode! And Maxis! And you handed my brother over to those monsters!"

The girl was livid, and Kyle didn't blame her. He had his own murderous impulses to keep in check. Because Tash was right—Jan and Quagga's teams would have succeeded at Far Qasqi, if not for Jodo Kast, who they had confused with Boba Fett. Trioculus might have been fooled by the Transcendent, but Kyle knew a truly unscrupulous scumbag when he met one.

The hunter waved a gloved hand. "That was only business. Don't take it so personally. I got paid to help those monsters, now it's lookin' like I'm gonna be paid to help you. An' since you're the good guys, that makes me one too. Believe it or not, it ain't the first time. I used to be in Rebel SpecForce, 'fore I ditched to become a hunter."

"So you're a deserter." Jan sounded ready to spit. "They should have shot you for that."

"Not for lack of tryin'. They woulda, if Rebels could aim."

"You son of a—"

"Enough of this! You're all wasting my time!" Trioculus shouted, slamming his fists upon his desk. As everyone turned toward him, he continued, "This bickering is pointless. The clash at Far Qasqi was a terrible mistake. Now that we are in contact, however, we can finally cooperate. Jodo Kast has located the Transcendent's headquarters on the fifth moon of a world called Da Soocha, in Hutt Space. With his assistance you will journey there, wipe out these depraved cultists, and rescue Zak Arranda—along with any other innocent children you may find there."

"That's a big job—bigger than I'm used to," said Jodo Kast, crossing his arms. "It's gonna have a big price tag."

"We will discuss your payment in private before you depart," the Slavelord replied testily. "For now, though, you should return to your ship and make preparations. I expect your full cooperation with Katarn and your other new allies."

"Long as the price is right."

With that, Jodo Kast strode back into the passage from which he had emerged. Kyle stared after the hunter, wishing he had a thermal detonator on hand, until the holobook case replaced itself.

Trioculus turned to his remaining guests. "He will provide you with all the information he has, I can assure you of that. You'll cooperate, will you not? I hope you understand you have little choice in the matter."

Of course—still has to strut around like any Imperial windbag.

Kyle crossed his arms. "Sure, we'll do it. This is what we've been after all along. But this hideout of theirs...the fifth moon of Da Soocha...if you know where it is, what you do need our help for to deal with it? You're an Imperial. Why wouldn't you just call in a couple Star Destroyers?"

"Really, Katarn, I thought you were smart enough to know better than that," chided Trioculus. "I am the Supreme Slavelord of Kessel, not an Admiral of the Navy. My ships must stay here to protect Kessel and the Garrison Moon. My direct influence does not extent far beyond the system. Besides, if the Transcendent approached me, they likely have contacts and agents within the Empire—as they do among you Rebels. A third party such as yourselves is in the best position to deal with this threat."

To Kyle it seemed obvious that Trioculus was also eager to cover up his own involvement with the Transcendent, unwitting though it had been. Still, the points he had made were sound enough.

The Supreme Slavelord rounded his desk and stood before them, extending a gloved hand. "As I said, I will turn a blind eye to your status as Rebels this time—and only this time—if you carry out this mission. Do you accept?"

Glad that they were both wearing gloves, Kyle shook his hand.

Drawing out a comlink, Trioculus ordered his stormtroopers to allow the Rebels back to their ships. "As soon as Jodo Kast is ready to depart, I will inform you, and arrange for your safe passage out of the Kessel system. Have you need of anything in the meantime? Weapons, medical supplies?"

Kyle looked askance at him. "We're pretty well stocked, actually."

They were almost halfway to the door when the Slavelord spoke again, his commanding tone entirely restored. "Katarn, wait. There is one other thing we must discuss. I forbid Tash Arranda to accompany you."

"Excuse me?" said Kyle as they all turned.

"She is a subadult orphan, separated from her legal guardian," Trioculus explained, marching up to them. "Last I checked, Alderaani refugees are recognized as Imperial citizens. Her rightful place is under Imperial protection—not with you."

R2-Q8 belligerently whistled a comment about how much the Empire cared for Alderaani refugees.

Of course there's a catch, thought Kyle as he and Jan stood in front of the girl. "Hold on a second, we didn't agree to this. We—we're taking care of her for now until we can find her uncle. Besides that, we're going to rescue her brother, so she stays with us."

"Nonsense. The Empire with all its resources has a far better chance of finding a missing uncle than you ever will. Besides, you are about to embark on a dangerous mission against deranged, heavily armed cultists. You cannot possibly think of bringing a defenseless girl with you." Trioculus raised an eyebrow sharply. "Your recklessness has already resulted in her brother falling back into their hands."

That cut about as deep as was probably intended, but Kyle wasn't about to back down. That Trioculus, mass murderer and slaver though he was, had enough of a conscience to be disgusted by ritualistic youngling rape, was believable. That he would make a clandestine alliance with a band of known Rebel agents under very unusual circumstances was also believable. However, they could not let themselves forget that this man was still a high-ranking Imperial, conniving and devious, with his own dark desires and machinations in play. Tash and Zak had mentioned earlier that their family was wanted by the Empire; if their uncle was some kind of renegade Imperial scientist, then it was all the more important to keep them out of the Empire's clutches.

"I'm going with them," Tash said, pushing herself to the front. "Because I can help them. Zak and I both have, and now that he's in danger, I'm going to help rescue him. And nobody's going to stop me, especially not some Imperial."

Kyle would expect any Imperial's ire to rise at that—getting told off by a teenager. Trioculus, however, seemed almost amused. "Hmph—you certainly have spirit, Tash Arranda. Perhaps you're no ordinary subadult. In fact..." His voice lowered, taking on a deep quality which was strangely, subtly relaxing. "In fact, I know you're not, because you said you could feel my innermost thoughts—and you did. You sensed my compassion, a side of myself which I keep shrouded in darkness, lest any of my many enemies use it against me.

"There is only one means by which you could have done such a thing: you have a gift which grants you extraordinary abilities. A gift which some call the Force. Is that not true?"

Tash had hitherto been glaring at Trioculus with a look of fierce defiance. However, as this imposing, darkly dressed man looked back at her, the girl's expression softened into one of confusion. "I...y-yes. I—I do, I'm pretty sure I have the Force...," she said timidly. Normally she was very careful about who she shared her secrets with, especially this one. However, the Lord Overseer's third eye somehow made avoiding the question unthinkable.

Trioculus smiled in a manner that was not particularly reassuring. Nonetheless, it was difficult to look away from him. "Yes, I knew it must be the case; you are a very special young girl, and you need to be protected—not placed in greater danger. Listen, it really would be best if you were to remain here on Kessel—for a brief time, of course," he added quickly, for the benefit of Kyle and Jan. "No harm will come to you here. I have hundreds of loyal stormtroopers protecting the palace. You can remain in safety until your friends have rescued your brother, and then we can see about finding your uncle."

Kyle opened his mouth to object, but something kept him from speaking...something about Trioculus...as if there were waves of hypnotic power emanating from his third eye...

"Toodoozoo doorwee?" asked R2-Q8 quietly.

Tash didn't seem to hear. She was too focused on Trioculus. "Y-you could really keep me safe here?" she asked.

The Supreme Slavelord smiled affably. "Naturally. And while your friends are busy saving your brother, you can tell me more about the Force. In fact—" Trioculus broke off and something seemed to flash in his eyes, all three of them at once, as though he had just hit upon something very clever. "In fact, I might even be able to introduce you...to my father."

"Your...father?" Tash breathed.

"Yes...I have not spoken with him in some time, but he knows many things about the Force. More than anyone else living in all the galaxy. Were I to tell him about you, Tash Arranda, I believe my father would be very eager to meet you, and share his knowledge..." Trioculus's eyes glazed over as he added, seemingly to himself: "...and he will reward me for my diligent service."

"KWANZAA-ZEE!" squawked R2-Q8. Kyle and Jan flinched, and before the two Rebels knew it, each had a hand on one of Tash's shoulders and was gently pushing her back behind them.

Kyle rubbed his eyes, feeling the strange sluggishness floating away, wondering where it might have come from. "Forget it," he said, shrugging off the last of it. "You're not keeping her and you're not taking her anywhere. Try anything, and our deal's off. You got that?"

Trioculus backed off a step, his face darkening with rage. As the tense moment passed, his anger seemed to lessen, but he still had some grave words for them.

"Very well, Katarn. Since you seem resolute in taking this young girl, this child who is not your own, to the fifth moon of Da Soocha, I will relent...on one condition." Drawing himself up, he pointed a commanding finger directly at Kyle's armored chest. "In the Dark Name of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Palpatine, I adjure you, Kyle Katarn, to solemnly swear in the same Emperor's Name, and by your Imperial Honor, that you are henceforth responsible for the safety of Tash Arranda, until such a time as she is restored to her normative legal guardian; that you are fully aware of danger into which you are taking her; and that you accept the moral burden of whatever may befall her as a result of your actions."

Jan, Tash, and R2-Q8 looked from the Supreme Slavelord to Kyle. Try though he might, he could not stop his lip from curling in disgust at the pomposity of a man like Trioculus, the slavedriving minion of a galactic tyrant, thinking he could fasten someone else with the bonds of sacred moral responsibility. Even Moff Rebus, the designer of General Mohc's deadly dark trooper weapons, had tried this on him back in the Rebel prison at Dathomir...

And it had worked.

"Okay, my lord, you've got it," said Kyle, rolling his eyes. He placed his right hand over his heart and declared, "I hereby promise and swear myself to Tash Arranda's bodily and spiritual health, protection, and survival..." With ferocity, he glared into Trioculus's third eye as if he could burn it right out of the Slavelord's forehead. "And I swear this by the Galactic Constitution of the Old Republic, which stood for over a thousand generations under the guard of the Holy Order of the Jedi Knights."

Trioculus did not flinch. After a heartbeat, he nodded. "Hmph. That will do, I suppose. MD-5, show our guests back to their ship. Be ready to depart soon, Katarn; I bid you a dark farewell."

CHAPTER COMPLETE

PASSWORD: VOSS'ON'T