Shalaya'loa'nuruodu, core name Yaloan, was home when Bellon walked in and dropped onto the couch dejected and tired.
"What's wrong?" she asked sitting beside him.
"I have to leave; I'm going undercover and don't know how long this will take." He looked into her glowing red eyes and stroked her rich blue cheek. "Oh, Loa, I'm sorry that we have to cancel the trip home."
She smiled and leaned into him putting her head on his shoulder. "Postpone, not cancel. Think positive; you'll be back, Dfrey."
He could feel her heart fluttering belying her words. He rubbed his cheek against her soft black hair and hugged her hard. He wondered what he had done to deserve her favor.
The next couple of weeks were spent reviewing the reams of information Capt. Lakris sent back. At home, he couldn't get enough of Loa nor she of him; it seemed they were making up for the coming lost time together.
The night before his departure, she collapsed onto his chest after making love and cried inconsolably. Bellon felt his own grief and fear. Would they ever see each other again? It was very probable in his line of work that they would not.
He had mentioned to Keeper that he would like to become a Minder or Watcher when he returned; he felt he was getting too old for gadding about the galaxy playing roles that were unnatural.
She had told him, "We will see."
The next morning Loa stared across the breakfast table at him in an effort to etch his face into her memory; he likewise.
"I love you," he told her and leaned over to kiss her. "No matter what happens, don't ever forget that."
She pressed her lips together and nodded. "I love you too," she mouthed unable to make any noise without crying. Her eyes glistened with tears.
Bellon abruptly stood, grabbed his deployment bag, and headed out to the speeder pad. He had to leave now.
He was sullen to say the least when he reached Imperial Intelligence. He listened attentively, however, as Watcher Two issued him the field equipment he would need.
"We have synthesized some clothing reflective of the attire noted in the recordings the Reclamation Service crew has sent us. The clothing is apparently that of a travelling merchant, according to Lt. Childress." Watcher Two handed him the bundle. "Be sure to put it on BEFORE you disembark planet side."
"What's that?" Bellon pointed at a suspiciously painful looking patch with spikes.
"When you reach your destination, and are ready to make contact," Watcher Two pointed at Bellon's holocommunicator, "use the camera to record the creature you will emulate. Input that data into the Transmutator." He took a full 360° scan of Bellon and explained how the Transmutator could merge several recordings together to create the composite that Bellon would use as his alias. "This then attaches to your upper chest," Watcher Two pointed just above Bellon's right pectoral. "It will make you become the composite. However, you must pick a being that is similar in height and physiology as your own; in other words, not one of the Growlers or Peewees or fur-bearers. Don't worry, once it's removed, you revert to yourself."
"You will study both factions, The Horde and The Alliance," Keeper announced. "You will send back as much information as possible and any recommendations as to with which faction we should align. Once we have enough, Darth Vowrawn will arrive to negotiate the treaty."
Bellon nodded and started to leave operations.
Keeper walked with him. At the door, she put her hand on his shoulder and looked at him sympathetically. "This shouldn't be like the last time. No more than a year if that long; it depends on how quickly you get the information we need." She studied him. "I'll keep an eye on Yaloan for you."
Bellon hid a wince at her tone. "Thank you," Bellon acknowledged before formally saluting and taking his leave.
He left instructions with the valet droid that his speeder was to be returned to his apartment, then took a taxi to the space port.
"Prepare for takeoff, Twovee," he announced as he passed his ship's droid. He dropped his deployment bag on the bed in his ship quarters and went to the bridge. The ship rumbled to life.
2VR8 was sitting in the co-pilot seat, "Ship is ready for takeoff, master. You have clearance from flight control."
Bellon put on his headsets and addressed flight control. "This is X70-Phantom ready for departure from Dock 7."
Tractor beams lifted the ship and guided it out of the dock and clear of the space port. "Engaging thrusters." Bellon activated the in-atmosphere engines. "Release tractor beams." He felt the release of the ship.
"Have a nice flight, X70-Phantom," the ground crew announced as acknowledgment that he was in free flight.
Bellon accelerated and headed out of the atmosphere. "Twovee, pull up the map to the planet," Bellon instructed once they were in orbit. The map of the galaxy activated then homed in on a planet in wild space beyond Hoth. Bellon plugged the course into the navi-computer and headed out. He then sent an encoded message to the Chiss Ascendency Expeditionary Forces command.
Trust no one, not even Keeper.
It took two standard weeks to reach the star system. The first thing Bellon noted was that one of the planets, the fourth, had exploded. The largest chunk, about two thirds of the globe and accompanied by the shattered fragments, still maintained orbit around the sun; it also still managed to have some atmosphere.
He approached the third planet and slipped into orbit. He studied the world.
The planet was the standard size necessary to have a gravity and atmosphere to support life. It was a blue, floating marble with four small continental landmasses all in the same hemisphere. The landmasses looked green and lush with temperate weather; better than many planets he had been to. At this altitude, he couldn't make out any substantial cities; but then the information indicated they weren't industrial, at least not on a large scale.
He put on the homespun and rustic clothing Watcher Two had provided him: cloth tunic and breaches and cape and hat and leather boots and shoulder pouch.
He then sent out the ping to inform the Reclamation Service vessel that he was in orbit and awaiting guidance to a secluded landing zone. The trace didn't come back until the hemisphere was in night; he broke orbit and followed it in. At night, all anyone would see would be what seemed to be a meteor.
He landed in the northern area of the eastern most continent, south of a massive stone wall and not far from mountains. The area was the rocky foothills to the small mountain range in the east. As he swung around to land with his thrusters away from Silthar's Promise, his exterior lights swept across several crewmembers waiting outside their ship.
He gave 2VR8 instructions to take off immediately and hold a geo-synchronous orbit until he sent word to be picked up. He stepped out onto the world and hurriedly cleared his ship before 2VR8 launched.
"Cipher Nine, good to meet you in person," Capt. Lakris greeted with none of the alien prejudices of his commander. He extended his hand in greeting.
Bellon accepted the firm grip. "Likewise, captain. I'm sure you're anxious to get home so let's make this brief."
"We had to move, which proved propitious," Lakris explained. "Scouts had found us and were getting ready to attack. We had been in the western continent. This site is closer to a powerful Horde leader, Sylvanas, and The Alliance leader, King Wrynn. To the north and west about 15 kilometers is a small outpost of Horde. To the south about 20 kilometers is an outpost of Alliance. We haven't dared venture a visual recon but have picked up activity on our scanners. North of here about 800 kilometers is Sylvanas' capital city. From what we can ascertain, the population is only about 20,000. South of here, about 1600 kilometers is the capital city for the Alliance, where their king is located; similar population."
"Have you translated their language?" Bellon asked.
Lakris nodded and signaled to an over-weight woman who looked to be in her mid 40s. "Ensign Childress."
Childress stepped forward and held out a small ear piece. "I finally managed to translate the guttural language of the Growlers. But you might not need it. It turns out they speak a dialect of the common tongue. We found out quite by accident just before we moved to this location."
She explained how a foraging party had nearly stumbled into the camp of some Peewees and Growlers. The team recorded the conversation, which was in common. She handed Bellon a transcript.
Lakris then bid Bellon farewell and hurried his team onto their ship. They wanted to break orbit before daylight.
Bellon walked well away from the scout ship and sat down to wait for dawn. He listened to the quiet of the night after watching the light from the scout ship's engines leave the atmosphere. He heard off in the dark an insectoid-type chittering noise and in the distance the roar of some large beast. Closer were the peeps of something he figured were akin to chirpetts. He took a deep breath of the clean air, not too hot or too cold and low humidity. He could see the stars of the galaxy filling the sky. There were worse places to be deposited alone in the middle of the night.
He pulled out a light and began studying the transcript. Sylvanas wanted reports on any Alliance movements. The Peewees, which called themselves Goblins, were to infiltrate as close as possible to any and all Alliance outposts to gain intelligence. Apparently, they would pose as 'Steamwheedle Cartel' members. Bellon decided that the Goblins were broken into sub-factions as well, with the Steamwheedle Cartel being friendly to the Alliance. The Growlers, who called themselves Orcs, were headed for someplace called Splintertree to reinforce the army there.
When he heard waking birds herald the arrival of dawn, he tucked the transcript away and shut off the small light he was using. Shortly after, the sun sent the first hints of day above the mountain ridge to the east and the land around him took form.
The wall to the north was entirely made of dry-laid stone and stood about 15 meters tall stretching from the eastern mountains to mountains about 80 kilometers west. He saw smoke rising in the distance, the direction Lakris had indicated for the Horde outpost. He ensured his blaster was easily accessible yet concealed and set out in that direction. Hopefully, he would be able to get a good recording of one of the denizens to load into the Transmutator.
He heard their voices before he saw them. A group was approaching. Bellon ducked into a stand of rocks and squatted down listening.
"I know what I saw, Marcus," it was a somewhat raspy female voice; it sounded as if it were coming from an old woman. "Lights and noises coming from the area of the Circle of Fire."
"You've been drinking too much Rumsey's Dark Rum again, Arbeth," it was a man's voice and sounded like sandpaper being dragged across a rock.
Bellon took a quick look and identified a group of five humanoids not too different in size and physiology from him. He hastily set up the recorder on the tallest rock and turned it on. He ducked back out of sight and listened to their discussion.
"I don't drink in the field and you know it, Marcus. I serve the Dark Lady with all my heart."
The male snorted some sort of laugh. "You don't have a heart anymore, Arbeth." Something was very wrong with his vocal chords. Apparently, the female was laughing at the private joke as well.
"I bet you saw nothing more than a gnome reconnaissance balloon," Marcus suggested as they passed not too far from Bellon's hiding place.
"No-o," the word was drawn out as if painful to say. "This moved much too fast to be a balloon or even a goblin rocket. When it left, it went straight up out of sight; and the noise sounded like a roaring dragon. And I think there were two. I saw a roaring light come in and almost immediately leave then the second roaring light left."
By now the small group was past the rock and Bellon could see them himself. There were five shuffling along slightly hunched over. The female wore leather armor, carried a bow and quiver of arrows, and had a huge, black spider walking at her side. The male wore robes not unlike what a Sith inquisitor might wear and walked with a long staff. The three others wore armor made up of what seemed to be iron and some unidentifiable metal; two carried shields and swords and one carried a long staff with what looked like an axe on the end. The breeze carried with it the smell of decaying flesh even after they were out of sight.
Bellon retrieved the recorder off the top of the rock and reviewed what it had picked up. He focused in on the male, Marcus. His hair was long and unkempt. His face gaunt with sunken eyes and cheeks. His hands were almost skeletal. Bellon used the program to strip away the clothes to see the form underneath. The man had no fat, his ribs and spine stuck out as if he were starving to death. His arms and legs had almost no muscle and, to Bellon's horror, in some places no skin. Looking deeper showed that his skeletal development was identical and he was approximately the same size as Bellon.
Bellon did a similar study of the others to find Marcus was actually the least decayed one of the bunch. He merged the recording of Marcus with a pre-made recording of himself. He studied the result.
The face was his but the complexion and state of decay was Marcus. He sighed and set the image into the Transmutator. He was about to attach it when he heard the group returning. He shifted so as not to be seen and listened to their discussion hoping to learn more.
They had found the landing site with two areas of charred earth. Something had blown debris around so that Arbeth had been unable to find any tracks. She would travel to "Undercity" and inform Dark Lady Sylvanas herself.
Bellon had to move fast. Arbeth was his ticket to learning as much as possible about Sylvanas and the Horde and reaching the capital. He waited until they were out of sight and inserted the Transmutator into his chest.
He gasped and crumpled at the pain that shot through his body. He could feel muscles and bones realigning themselves. He fought desperately to keep from crying out as his skin seemed to burn and tear. The agony seemed to last for hours before he lay gasping and exhausted.
When the spots before his eyes abated, he stood and moved around a bit to get used to the new body. He slipped his blaster and the recorder into the deep shoulder pouch and stepped out from the rocks.
"My name is Billy," Bellon said taking on his old persona. His voice too cracked and rasped against desicated vocal chords. He set off at a jog following the trail of the five. He decided to tell them he was a merchant that had been way-laid and that he wanted to get back to Undercity. He purposely ran through brambles to tear the clothes he wore.
Soon a small camp with several cook fires came into sight. It sat on a small rise, next to a road that led through the shattered gates of the great wall rising at its back.
There were several structures on wheels and a couple of tents, all were either a sickly green color or purple. The two most startling items was the giant, obese creature standing about five meters tall looking like it had been sewn together, and a very large glass globe filled with swirling, putrid-looking green liquid.
"Who are you," a voice challenged. It was Arbeth.
"My name's Billy Dekidt. My caravan was attacked in the night and everything was stolen. I saw your camp smoke and made my way here."
"Did you see any roaring lights?" the sarcastic tone of Marcus asked.
Bellon shook his head, "No I was struck unconscious in the attack and only recently awoke. I should very much like to get back to Undercity to tell my business partner and restock."
"If the Orcs at Hammerfall don't get their supplies, they'll be quite put out," Arbeth answered as if she didn't care about her allies.
"Don't shed a tear for them, dear friend." Marcus chuckled. "Such luck for you, Billy; Arbeth will be leaving for Undercity quite soon. I'm sure she would appreciate the company on the road."
"Shut up," Arbeth snapped. "I don't need you to speak for me. You are welcomed along but know that I travel quickly and will not wait up for you."
"I can keep up," Bellon assured her.
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