The vial glowed with an ethereal amethyst light that refracted through the liquid contained within, throwing the small air bubbles fizzing in the suspension into sharp contrast.
The Unicorn producing the field inhaled sharply as he looked beyond the plexiglass tube, to the holoscreen on the wall. The semi-three-dimensional readout was a sharp, partially transparent bevy of blue, teal, and magenta lines. The information represented chemical formulae, Thaumatic wave readouts, and molecular reaction chains.
In short; it represented the culmination of Condign Nova's magnum opus. The Unicorn had always juggled his political career with an innate talent for magecraft. At last, he saw a way to marry the two disciplines to benefit all of Pony-kind. The small phial he was furtively clutching in his horn's levitation field represented the fruition of that ambition, at long last.
He set the object on his desk; the surface responded by conjuring dozens of two-dimensional holograms across itself pertaining to the chemicals inside the cylinder. Shaking in anticipation, Condign rushed to the wall holograms, and checked the results a second time. His hooves and magic flew through the interface, demanding reams of data which his mind was barely able to process through the haze of his fear and excitement.
At last, he slumped to his haunches, heart thundering in his chest. It took him several minutes of deep breaths to regain his composure; once he had, he walked to the nearest storage cabinet as if in a dream.
Slowly and smoothly, his horn flared to life and he withdrew an oblong titanium case from the cabinet. The valise was thickly set, and as it brushed against Condign's hoof a holographic biometric denial system flared to life on the device's surface.
He set it on the center of his desk, and pressed his hoof to it more firmly to give it access to a full genetic sample. When the hologram turned blue in confirmation, he allowed a small burst of magic to escape his horn, and directed it at the case as well. The Thaumatic technology within then compared the unique characteristics of his magical aura, and his genetic code, to its own database.
Within seconds, the case's hologram turned bright green; with a hiss its magnetic locks unclamped, and the internal thaumatic shield disengaged.
Condign spared a long look at the vial, before carefully levitating it into the custom molded foam protective layer within the valise. With awe, bordering on reverence, the Unicorn reached up and folded the case shut with his hooves, waiting until the locks re-activated before daring to lift the entire affair from the desk.
He reached out, as an afterthought, and tapped the surface of the desk with his hoof, triggering a small comm panel control. He spoke to the central computer, "Send to my attache; apologies for being late, please stall the delegates as best as possible, I will arrive within ten minutes."
The computer chirruped a tone of cheerful acknowledgement, and spoke with a lilting synthesized voice, "Message delivered Senator."
Canterlot evenings were as beautiful a sight as Condign had ever seen. The air was cool, crisp, and clean; the lights of the city shimmered like the stars above, and the constant sound of Ponies and other sundry species happily going about their lives helped him to feel less alone.
He smiled wistfully, and stole a glance down at the city, in spite of the fact that he was in a hurry. A billion pinpricks of blue, white, and golden light spoke to the peace and harmony of what he had devoted his life to protecting, upholding, and improving.
He sighed, and turned to trot up the stairs to the Senate chamber. He made his way through the security checkpoint as quickly as possible, neglecting to even heed the guards' shoulder-mounted Anyon rifles. Normally Senator Nova spent at least a few seconds nervously eyeing the powerful energy weapons, but for once he was in too great a hurry.
The lead guard was clad, like his subordinates, in silver and gold swooping plates of titanium. Their electric blue helmet crests, and the stylized sun and moon emblazoned on their flank-plates, were callbacks to a time when Equestria had been ruled by Celestial Monarchs who took the nearest interstellar bodies as sigils.
The captain nodded curtly as his lieutenant finished performing an identity check on Condign, "You are clear. Welcome back Senator."
The Unicorn nodded absently, and trotted forward through a set of sliding gold doors, into a long and cool marble-floored hallway. The structure was as old as the city itself, and sported stained glass windows on either side that cast Equestria's ancient history in the vivid tones of the setting sun.
Condign snorted as he eyed the tinted glass fragments. The idea that the visibility of the sun and moon above Equestria had once been governed by two powerful beings, in spite of geo-stelar mechanics, seemed both alien and intriguing to him.
He glanced down at an unobtrusive holographic chronometer on his hoof, and quickened his pace. He was swiftly running out of spare time. Any further delays would upset the delegates.
As Condign reached the opaque frosted glass doors to the Senate chamber itself, he paused for five seconds to take deep breaths and steady himself. Once the familiar ritual was complete, he stepped forward, allowing the portals to slide open of their own computer-guided volition.
The Senate chamber of the Equestrian Stellar Republic was a circular vaulted room constructed of polished marble, and supported with ridged pillars composed of a similar but less glossy mineral.
The room was ringed with thousand-year-old stained glass windows depicting scenes from across Equestria; mostly pastoral in nature. Once it had been a throne room, but not so for several centuries. The space had long been filled, instead, with the stadium-seating of the senate looking down on a floor emblazoned with a gold and silver star map.
Condign noted, with an internal sigh of relief, that the majority of the senate seemed to be broken up into small groups wrapped up in casual conversation with the delegates. There was no air of tension, impatience, or forced false hospitality.
His colleague, an energetic young Earth Pony by the name of Adjutant Solace, detached himself from a group near the center of the chamber, and trotted over, "So what they say is true then. 'Fashionably late' still applies in political circles."
Condign smiled. He had known Adjutant for nearly two decades; they not only shared the same homeworld, and had shared the same classes at University, but were two of their planet's three current elected Senators.
"Sorry. I'm not just a Senator you know. I have other projects..."
Solace chuckled, and grinned wryly, "You know I begged the University not to give you a lab, but something about the bills to expand the higher education budget that you championed, apparently did a better job of swaying their minds. I can't imagine why."
Senator Nova smirked, "It must be my natural charm."
Adjutant jerked his head towards the center of the Chamber, "Well, I think you'd better put that supposed 'natural charm' to good use, and quick. Late is, when all is said and done, still late."
Condign nodded, noting that the delegates, and the other Senators, had begun to file towards their seats. He inhaled slowly, and made his way to the center of the floor, arriving just as the Speaker of the Senate took her place at a podium across from him near the bottom row of benches.
The Pegasus cleared her throat, her voice suddenly amplified by a tiny invisible magic microphone embedded in the glass rostrum, "Greetings honored delegates, and fellow Senators. I, Melody Reprise, duly elected Speaker of the Senate for this cycle, call the Chamber to order. Our first and only order of business this evening is a special session. It is our privilege to welcome delegates from the Zebra Hegemony, to hear a proposition by Senator Condign Nova for a joint technological, and thaumomancy venture."
She nodded to Condign, "The Speaker recognizes Senator Nova."
He paused, surveying the chamber, then let out his breath, and began to speak fluidly, instantly slipping in the familiar patterns of persuasive speech-making, "Honored Delegates..." He paused and began to pace slowly, "What is the greatest threat to the peace of both your star-systems, and ours?"
Condign held up a cautionary hoof, "You might be tempted to answer, 'The Diamond Dog Clans.' Or perhaps, 'Interstellar Piracy.' But I assert that while valid, these threats pale in comparison to the menace that is not only at our doorstep, but *within* our very homes."
He stomped his hoof into the marble with an air of finality, "Changelings. In the past twenty four months, our government has discovered no fewer than fifteen doppelgangers within our own halls of power. I'd hazard a guess, based on the fact that you accepted our invitation to be here today, that you are facing a similar problem."
Condign paused, noting subtle nods amongst the assembled Zebra. He continued when he determined that the silence had reached just the right length, "We are not the Gryphons, or the Dragons. We do not have the luxury of being impossible to mimic. Expelling the Changelings from this world over a century ago did nothing to diminish their avidity. If anything? They have only grown in their ambition."
Senator Nova stood stock still, gazing up at the entire assembled Senate, and their striped guests, "I am proposing a joint task force. A group that represents the pooling of our brightest minds and strongest political leaders, to pursue one thing and one thing only. The solution to our conundrum. An answer to our darkest fears."
Condign stepped forward, the ardor of conviction blazing in his eyes, "A way, once and for all to, on a large scale with absolute surety and great alacrity... detect, capture, permanently detain, or even kill Changelings"
Piercing golden eyes watched, with unblinking malice, as the freighter sailed past the window with a grace that seemed ill suited to its mouldering form. The arching floor-to-ceiling skylight of the bar provided an excellent view of incoming station traffic, and it was for that reason that the Gryphon had chosen it as his observation post.
He was able to identify the craft as his quarry almost immediately. It fit the description enclosed in his contract to a tee; rusty colored hull with a dappled patchwork of stopgap repairs, modular configuration of tetrahedral pods held together by a main linear superstructure terminating in an octagonal command module at the fore, and a trio of Slipstream nacelles at the rear.
The Gryphon glanced across the station causeway at the docking gate the craft was scheduled to arrive at. Final confirmation came seconds later as its name blinked into existence on a flickering ill-maintained orange holo-sign above the airlock, 'SS Alabaster Bounty.'
Kelran Ii'shth'nar had picked up more than enough experience in his two hundred and forty one years to know that the freighter's agnomen was meant to be humorous, in the most distasteful way possible. He decided, as he rose from his table in the corner, that he was going to eek some enjoyment out of his assignment after all.
The beige and sienna-toned Gryphon ambled casually across the bar, through the flow of causeway traffic, and took up a position beside the airlock. He shifted position until he was sure that the shadows of an overhead support beam, combined with a broken lighting fixture, obscured his presence.
He spared a moment to watch the traffic in the causeway; an eclectic mix of Ponies, Minotaurs, Diamond Dogs, and Dragons, with the former and latter making up the smallest cross-sections. There were no other Gryphons; his kind didn't often frequent dens like the station environment he found himself enduring.
Kaddesh station was, in Kelran's estimation, best described as sprawling, dirty, hodge-podge, cramped, and lawless.
He listened intently, tufted ears swivelling ever so slightly, as the sounds of moving machinery from beyond the airlock informed him that the docking process was nearly complete.
He sighed and fingered the shaft of his weapon. Seconds later, the round cog-like portal of the airlock irised open, letting loose the stench of unwashed fur and leaking coolant. Kelran found himself offering a prayer of gratitude that Gryphons' sense of smell was nowhere near as acute as most other races.
He watched with disdainful interest as the senior crew of the freighter disembarked; hulking Diamond Dog Troll males, one and all. Their fur was scruffy, their clothing disheveled, and their sidearms illegal in eighty civilized sectors.
Kelran had to violently resist a deep urge to start a scene right there on the station promenade. Instead, he opted for his original and wiser plan; to remain cloaked in the shadows until his path into the freighter was clear.
The raucous Trolls paid him no attention whatsoever; they were too focused on getting to the nearest drinking establishment and becoming as intoxicated as physically possible.
Once they were out of sight, Kelran turned to the docking hatch and stepped smoothly inside, triggering the closure of the exterior door almost as an afterthought. Once inside, he sized up the freighter's own entry portal; the Monotanium plating of the hatch was unusually expensive. Military grade.
A Dragon might have been able to melt it, or tear it off its cheaper titanium linchpins given enough time, but Kelran was no reptilian hulk. He rapped twice on the hatch with a fisted claw. When no response came, he turned his attention to other means of ingress.
He glanced down at the control panel, and rolled his eyes. The device was dated, even by decade-old standards. The Gryphon was by no means a master-level computer splicer, but he had picked up some basic skills pertaining to 'illicit digital entry techniques,' as he liked to call them.
He spent a furtive half-minute tapping away at the touch-panel, his talons making a soft click-clack against the plexiglass, before he was rewarded with a two-toned 'entry granted' notification.
The hatch slowly dropped on aging hydraulic rams, to reveal the freighter's interior. The main corridor was dark, hexagonally shaped, and made entirely of plated metal. There were no affordances of any kind for safety, comfort, or artistic expression.
Kelran snorted, and stepped over the hatchway's knee knocker, readying his weapon simultaneously.
The stench of unwashed bodies was now stronger, and mixed with a tang of blood. He stiffened, and stepped down the corridor carefully, remaining on his hind legs. The pads of his back paws cushioned any potential noise generated by his passing, and he managed to reach the first side-hatches without making a single sound.
He knew, from examining the freighter's external configuration, that the portals led to the cargo pods. As he neared the first doorway, the smell of blood intensified.
Kelran knew what he would find within the pods, with sickening certainty. He reached out with his left claw, and pressed the release key for the nearest pod hatch.
There was a hiss, a clank, and the hatch irised away in five segments to reveal a dark tetrahedral space. A space full of cowering forms.
The freighter was not named 'Alabaster Bounty,' by mistake; the words were nothing if not a euphemism for the horns of Unicorns. A species blessed, among other things, with the capability to magically detect gemstones. The most talented detectors were often specifically young female Unicorns; and Kelran found himself looking down into a pod full of them.
Their coats were matted with blood and other unidentifiable substances, and their eyes unanimously screwed shut against the sudden influx of light. As they began to adjust to the luminescence, one by one, Kelran held a talon to his beak.
The enslaved Unicorns whimpered their acknowledgement. He moved silently to the pod across the corridor, and likewise jettisoned its hatch. There were no living beings within the second pod, but rather row upon row of clear cylinders secured in cargo nets. The cylinders themselves were full to bursting with a crushed red crystalline substance; Kelran recognized it as one of the most popular street drugs on seven neighboring worlds.
He knew at least one other pod, out of the eight that the ship carried, had living cargo. He suspected that if the rest were not filled with illicit substances, that they were almost certainly stocked with illegal arms.
The Gryphon sighed deeply. There were days when he wondered if parts of the galaxy weren't already too far gone for saving. As he turned away from the container, he noted the presence of one of the ship's remaining crew at the end of the corridor.
As the Troll glanced up, and saw him, he raised his weapon and shrugged, "In my defense? I *did* knock." He pulled the hidden trigger in the haft of the device. The weapon was shaped like a spear, but possessed two unique advantages.
The first was a swooping set of blades that sprung from, and returned to, the shaft, allowing the weapon to be used like a type of sword. The second, less obvious advantage was the fact that the entire interior of the haft was made up of power cells, and a firing chamber that culminated in a hidden node within the blade of the spear.
At the behest of the pulled trigger, the spear blade sprang apart into a claw-like structure to reveal the already glowing node. The confused Troll had barely a moment to cope with his oncoming demise, before a brilliant sea-blue pulse issued forth from the weapon, crossed the intervening space with a chortling whine, and slammed into his chest.
Like most Gryphic weapons, the spear relied on a layered Vertiron pulse to deliver its destructive power. The pulse struck the Troll, and dispersed its entire payload of energy into his subatomic structure. His atoms strained violently as his body went from its normal appearance, to a glowing blue silhouette laced with brighter webs of static.
Kelran had, in the interests of power cell conservation, set the device to a median lethal setting. As such, the effect dissipated within a half second, leaving the Troll's corpse intact. His nervous system, however, fared poorly under the particle energy onslaught.
The lifeless form dropped to the deck instantly.
Kelran knew the discharge of his weapon had been loud enough to attract attention, so he abandoned all chance of stealth and sprinted to the end of the corridor. As he had expected, he encountered a pair of groggy and confused Trolls who had been roused from slumber by the din of his initial engagement.
Diamond Dogs were strong, and would normally have given Kelran a tough fight. But the two who had all but bumbled directly into him were not only lazy, flabby specimens of the species, but were also groggy and unarmed. He brought his spear around in a slicing motion, scoring a headshot with one side-blade on the first target.
The motion brought the second into the sight picture of his particle weapon. He calmly squeezed the trigger and watched his opponent drop in a halo of lethal energy.
The bridge was now within striking distance. The Gryphon walked calmly up to the entry portal, holding his weapon at the ready. The doors slid apart on grating aging mechanical rack and pinion gears, granting him access to the ship's command center.
Like the rest of the craft it was dark, angular, spartan, and had a low ceiling. A variety of older touchscreen panels dotted the walls, and there were four upright consoles at various points around the perimeter. Only one of these consoles was manned.
The Troll scrambled to her feet and snarled, unholstering her large pistol and training it on Kelran's skull, "Just who in Tartarus are *you?!* Drop your weapon!"
Kelran sighed, and shrugged his wings, "If you insist."
He threw the spear down, and forward, simultaneously thumbing the power setting to maximum, and making use of his superior agility and reflexes to vault into the air. His wings beat once to provide the thrust needed for his maneuver, and the rest was pure acrobatics.
Diamond Dogs possessed an almost unbelievable strength, and durability, but no agility or nimbleness to speak of. All of their speed and power was geared for straight line charges.
As the Troll discharged her illegal pistol repeatedly, showering the opposite side of the bridge in a hail of Dekyon blasts, Kelran sailed effortlessly over her head. He arrived on the deck behind her just in time to snag his spear from mid-air as it passed over her right shoulder.
The Troll was only halfway through her turn when Kelran effortlessly flipped the weapon, and lined up the business end with her head. He did her the courtesy of waiting until she was fully facing him before firing, "Nice try."
He pulled the trigger a full four tenths of a second later than he had to. His idea of giving the Troll a sporting chance. Her reflexes, however, were not trained to their full potential. Her paw never even managed to depress the trigger of her own weapon.
The Vertiron pulse that issued from Kelran's spear had been set to maximum particle charge. The burst impacted the Troll, and passed straight through, bleeding only a third of its energy into her. It continued on through the bridge floor, only stopping once it had carved a neat perfectly cylindrical path of mayhem through nearly a foot of deck plating, circuitry, and structural beam.
For her part, the Troll had nearly a full quarter of a second to look stricken, before the energy from the pulse overwhelmed the bonds holding her together at a subatomic level. She then promptly disintegrated with a whine of energy, followed by a loud 'SNAP' as momentarily superheated air rushed in to fill the vacated space.
Kelran secured his weapon, and swiftly set about scanning the ship for any further crew. He located two Trolls in the mess hall, and briefly considered giving them a sporting chance as well, before deciding that he was out of both patience, and mercy for the day.
He tapped a series of controls, and calmly sealed the compartment, before cutting off all life support to the area.
He then turned to the freighter's pod controls, and issued a blanket 'open' command. Finally; he made his way to the captain's ready room. It took his Gryphic eyes less than two seconds to locate the ship's safe; the seam would have been invisible to most, but Gryphons could count every grain in the concrete surface of a mile square tarmac in less time than it took to blink.
A judicious application of energy from his weapon succeeded in drilling a hole through the safe's lock, and revealed a large sum of gold and precious gems inside, packaged neatly into small cases and boxes. The Gryphon withdrew these calmly, and departed.
By the time he had returned to the main corridor, there was a fair sized group of female Unicorn Ponies, along with a few stray Diamond Dogs of other subspecies, and even a pair of young Minotaurs.
Kelran pointed with a claw towards the airlock, "You'd best leave before the rest of the crew returns," he tossed the pilfered loot from the safe onto the floor in front of the stunned ex-slaves, "You'll need this, I expect."
There was a long moment of silence, before the group began to shuffle forward, and quietly parcel out the riches amongst themselves to aid in their return to their homes, wherever they had once been. As the procession of numb, shellshocked, emaciated creatures passed by, Kelran singled out two young Unicorn fillies, "You two. Your parents are Mr. and Mrs. Astraeus?"
The two young ones blinked in surprise, before nodding meekly. Kelran gestured to the bridge, "Wait for me there. Your parents sent me to free you; I'll be taking you back to them shortly."
One of the younglings worked up the courage to speak, "S-s-shortly? Why the bridge?"
Kelran nodded, "The rest of the ship's crew is still on shore leave. I don't plan to let them leave this station alive, and what follows is both too dangerous for you to be party to, and not fit for you to witness." The Gryphon tightened his claws around his spear, "I'd prefer to lie in wait for them here. There's no sense in depriving them of their last meal, after all."
Senator Nova always loved seeing his homeworld from orbit. Tygalt major was a large hospitable globe; oddly, unlike most M class planets, its surface was comprised more of land than water. Most of the terrestrial phases of the planet's hydrologic cycle were dependant on underground rivers, and massive continent-sized aquifers.
Due to its three moons, and their unique orbital/gravitational mechanics, Tygalt major was an almost perfect sphere, resulting in a highly uniform climate with three distinct and beautiful, yet moderate seasons that were perfectly conducive to agriculture.
Crops were, in fact, nearly ninety percent of the planet's exported goods. Condign gazed lovingly out the window of his quarters at the mostly green sphere. A core world, the planet was only a day's journey from canterlot at high Slipstream velocities.
Condign smiled out at the view one last time as the ship began dipping towards the atmosphere. He then turned, and collected his effects in his magic field; a small duffle bag with changes of clothes and basic toiletries, a holographic data tab filled with diplomatic briefs, and last but not least the ominous silver attache that he had kept within his sight since the moment it left his lab at Canterlot University.
He made his way out of his quarters, bags in tow, and down to the ship's exit ramp. The voice of the vessel's co-pilot came over the compartment's speakers, "We will be arriving in approximately two minutes; cabin crew please secure the ship for landing."
Condign, as a Senator, was entitled to the use of a Diplomatic courier ship. While not especially well armed, the craft was well defended, fast, and agile. It cut a blazing swath down through Tygalt Major's thick oxygen rich atmosphere, breaking free of the flames of re-entry just above the cloud layer, and swooping up into a shallower descent path.
Like most Equestrian Republic ships, the courier was based on the shape of a smooth arc evoking the image of a crescent moon, or a sun in the midst of eclipse. As a diplomatic vessel, Senator Nova's ship was painted entirely in shades of reflective silver and gold, with artful intertwining patterns of both creating mesmerizing lighting effects at the leading edges of the ship.
The sleek craft dipped and wheeled, piercing the cloud layer and catching the last glint of the evening sun on its hull as it powered down towards the planetary Capital.
True to form for Tygalt Major, the capital was a small settlement, mostly dominated by the central government complex. Otherwise, it was agrarian and spread out, with both a low population overall, and low population density.
Most families on the planet lived in or on farmsteads, either owning or working the land. There were no clusters of glittering skyscrapers such as the ones that defined Canterlot's skyline; the tallest building on the entire planet was the government complex itself.
The building was a sweeping and artistic limestone and emerald construct. It encapsulated the design elements of a small palace more than a seat of government. No one lived there, and since the governmental affairs of the planet were widely distributed across its various municipalities, most of the space was rented out for a low fee to academic or artistic pursuits.
The courier ship finally began a braking maneuver, small reverse subspace impellers flaring to life to leach away the momentum the main engines, and gravity, had lent the craft.
At last, just as the sun vanished below the horizon, and the first stars peeked forth from the utterly unpolluted velvet expanse above, the ship touched down. The landing pad was little more than a huge granite and sandstone circular platform, jutting out from the side of the complex. It was ringed with tastefully dimmed lights, and a series of softly blinking navigational beacons.
As the ship settled on its thick-set curvaceous landing legs, the landing ramp's seals detached, and the long metal surface slowly began dipping on hydraulic rams.
"DADDY!" Condign couldn't help himself; his muzzle broke into an enormous smile. He rushed down the ramp, helter skelter, and collided affectionately with the owner of the voice. He crooked his neck around her and sighed contentedly.
"My dear Stella. Isn't it past your bedtime?"
The young foal chuckled, and tossed a strand of her wispy pinkish mane out of her brilliant blue eyes, "No silly! Balm promised me I could stay up late to wait for you!" Stellar Nova offered her father a cheery innocent smile, and jerked her head slightly towards Punctual Balm; the family butler and Senator Nova's most trusted attache.
Condign offered the aging Unicorn a good natured glower, "Did he now?"
Stella danced back and forth on her hooves, "Didya meet anyone interesting this time?!"
Senator Nova nodded slowly, "Yesterday I gave a very important proposal to some Zebra ambassadors."
The filly gazed up in starstruck awe, "And did they accept?"
"Amazingly? Yes."
Stella grinned ear to ear, "Awwwwesomeee!"
Condign stiffened as he remembered the contents of his bag, "Ah! I nearly forgot..." He reached down into his duffle with his kinesis, and withdrew a small silvery box. The clear plastic window on the front offered a view of a small metal starship model, superimposed on a holopaper background of stars.
Stella gasped and squealed in childish glee, "You FOUND it!"
Condign nodded proudly, "One Minotaur Y'shara class frigate model. New in box. Though you would not believe how hard it was to get. They haven't made or sold these in forty years; the toy *or* the ship itself. How, or why, you care to keep track of ships that no one even remembers anymore, I'll never understand."
The foal glared, "Daddy! Its my special taaaleeennnt!"
The Senator sighed, "We're not having this discussion right now. You don't have a cutie mark yet; you don't know what your talent is yet."
Stella groused momentarily, but Condign had an ace up his hoof. He reached into the bag, and withdrew a second object; a small mahogany box with a beautiful inlaid jade pattern on the cover.
The filly glanced up, and gingerly grasped the box in her magic field, "What's this?"
Condign inclined his head, releasing the box, "Well normally you'd open this one tomorrow, but I figured.. Why not tonight? Go on..."
The father and daughter had a longstanding tradition; whenever Condign returned from a long period away from home, he would bring Stella two gifts. One from him, one that her mother would have bought her.
Stella gingerly opened the container, and gasped. Within lay a gorgeous gold and jade mane-clip. The design was easily identifiable as tribal Zebran, and on the whole the effect was dazzling. The little filly had never seen anything so artful, not even adorning the manes of her father's wealthiest dinner guests.
"Its *beautiful!* Thank you Daddy! Exactly what mommy would have brought."
Condign smiled warmly as his daughter embraced him once more. He reflected that Stella was perhaps the only reason he had survived the death of his wife; a peculiar irony given that the latter had died bringing the former into the world.
The Senator had always done his best to ensure that his daughter never forgot her mother; the tradition of two gifts was one of the things he had come to rely on to maintain the memory of his beloved.
He glanced up at the planet's moons, then back at his daughter, "Its getting late my dear." Condign waggled a hoof in the direction of the family's hover-carriage, which was parked inconspicuously on a corner of the landing pad, "Balm will take you home and tuck you in. I'll see you in the morning; I have papers to file---"
"Awwwww! But Daaaaad!" Stella's complaint cut him off before he could finish making his excuse. His daughter stared up at him with wide eyes that were equal parts piercing in their sadness, and the accusatory glare hidden behind the moroseness, "Can't I stay up late with you?"
Condign paused to give the question consideration. In typical child-like fashion, Stella took the silence as an invitation to press her perceived advantage, "Just this once? You've been gone almost three weeks! I was good! You can ask Balm! Besides; I'm almost twelve! I should get to stay up later anyways. Pleeeeeease?!"
Senator Nova glanced furtively down at Stella, then up at the hover-carriage. The chauffeur had already exited and was holding open the rear door expectantly. Condign didn't know why, but something about the gesture gave him the final tiny bit of impetus he needed to indulge Stella's wish. He reasoned that, perhaps, it was his own childish side rearing its playful head in defiance of authority and status quo.
He shook his head silently at the driver, who uncharacteristically frowned for a brief moment, before disappearing around the hover-carriage once more towards the pilot side.
Stella, with the acute perception of a bright child desperate for the answer to a question, caught the subtle head-shake, and began to dance back and forth with glee. Condign frowned good-naturedly, "You have to promise not to interrupt when I have to make holocalls though. And when we get home, you go *straight* to bed with no complaints."
The elated filly was on the verge of a response, when the calm of the night was split by a deafening roar. Simultaneously, a bright light erupted from the hover-carriage, and Condign turned just in time to see it propelled skywards by an enormous explosion.
Stella cried out reflexively in fear, and Condign dived, without thinking, to shelter her with his body. As the blackened hulk of the hover-carriage fell back to the landing pad, cracking the stone surface, the Senator did his best to herd his daughter back towards the courier ship.
Condign didn't have any particular plan in mind, but somewhere deep down he instinctively guessed that the ship would be a safer place with its single defensible entrance, and thick armor.
As the Senator furtively backed towards the boarding ramp, Stella firmly ensconced in a protected position behind him, he felt the hackles on the nape of his neck rise. He whirled just in time to see an ominous dark figure reaching towards his daughter.
Condign's reaction was born less out of stalwart bravery, more out of a father's concern for his child; he lashed out reflexively, and violently, with his back hooves.
The Changeling dodged effortlessly, but had to move away from Stella in doing so. The chitinous creature hissed, its teal faceted eyes glittering balefully. Stella squeaked in fear, and ducked around Condign to place him between her and the aggressor, much to her father's relief.
The naturally-armored creature tensed its hole-filled legs as if preparing to lunge, but never got the chance to act. A flurry of yellow-hued Anyon energy lances tore across the landing pad and riddled the Changeling's side with a dozen new apertures to the outside world.
The creature hissed once more and beat its wings, incredibly lifting skyward despite its seemingly critical injuries. Condign knew enough about the beings to dimly realize that what was critical trauma to an ordinary creature was often little more than inconvenience to a Changeling, thanks to their incredible morphing and regenerative powers.
The Senator turned in shellshock to see a small contingent of guards issuing forth from the government complex, particle rifles raised. For the most part, Equine weapons were strapped to the shoulder and back joints of their combat armor, and triggered by specific muscular movements.
Tygalt Major's standing militia weren't as well equipped as the Republic Guards on some worlds, but their weapons were up to spec and their training was as demanding as any major military branch. The guards continued firing on the Changeling, hoping to bring it down by sheer force of numbers, but their efforts were in vain.
Their initial assault had not been quite enough to slow the armored creature down, and thus it turned the advantage of its natural agility into a swift escape, utilizing its gossamer insectoid wings to flit away, easily dodging the weapons fire that pursued it, until it was nothing but a speck in the distance.
As the guards rushed to surround him, and his daughter, Condign stood in an absolute state of stupor, trying furtively to process what had happened. Stella cowered beside him, eyes wide as much in curiosity as fear.
Punctual Balm stepped forward from the space beneath a landing strut where he had been hiding, "I presume this means you'll be wanting me to bring 'round the other carriage sir?"
"Senator...? Sir we need you to---"
Condign shook himself and nodded, as he mustered a response.
"Of course Captain. I'm sorry... I just..."
The guards-pony inclined her head, putting on her best firm comforting tone.
"You're still in shock sir. That's understandable. Sir if you would; I need you to recall everything you can about the driver of your hover-carriage."
Stella spoke up from her position in a comfy armchair.
"I liked him! He was nice! Well... Before he got all dark and scaly... and hissy."
The Captain smiled, maintaining an amazingly patient demeanor.
"Thank you little miss," She turned her gaze back to the Senator, "Do you remember the cover name used? Had you ever had contact--?"
Condign shook his head, cutting her off.
"I think he.. 'It' was hired while I was offworld. You'd have to ask my attache. You can probably find him in the offices, just through there." He motioned with a hoof towards the corridor leading off the living room.
The space was well appointed, but stopped far short of sumptuous. Condign didn't like to display his family's wealth with great prominence; most of it was tied up in altruistic investment in any case.
As the guards-pony departed, Condign sighed and glanced over at Stella.
"My dear... It's time we were both abed. I know its difficult, and you're excited and afraid. But you need sleep."
Stella's muzzle drooped into the best pouty expression she could muster, but the effect was lessened by the clear signs of exhaustion plastered to her face. The filly's eyelids drooped, and she found herself unable to resist a massive yawn.
Condign gently herded his daughter up the house's main flight of stairs, to her bedroom on the second floor. The space was made up to look like space itself in every conceivable way. The walls and ceiling were fitted with holo emitters that created a startlingly good starfield illusion.
Model starships were strung from the roof by invisible wire, and while most of the furnishings were minimalist and modern, the bed was covered in a sumptuous quilt that mirrored the star patterns of Tygalt Major's night time summer skies.
Condign carefully helped Stella onto the bed, and nipped up the covers in his muzzle, drawing them over her comfortingly, before speaking.
"Now my dear, dear Stella; I want you to put what happened today as far out of your mind as you can, and rest."
She tilted her head, yawning once more, "But what if there are more Changelings here?"
The Senator was not accustomed to lying, least of all to his family. Nevertheless, he put on his best truthful air, and fibbed with all his might.
"They won't be a problem anymore. They were after Daddy, and now that we *know* that, Daddy's guards will be ready. The Changelings know the guards will be ready, and they won't risk coming back a second time."
Stella looked slightly unsure, but nodded all the same, yawned a final time, and laid her head to rest on the pillow. Condign leaned down and kissed her forehead, just beside her horn, whispering quietly all the while.
"Sleep well, my little rising star."
He tip-hoofed his way to the door, and flicked out the lights with a soft touch of his magic field against the control pad, which simultaneously activated the starfield illusion on the walls and ceiling.
Condign sighed as he stepped into the corridor, and the door whispered shut. He nodded wordlessly to the two guards who had come up the stairs while he was in the room, and they took up sentry positions on either side of the door.
It galled him to think about it, but he knew that ultimately, he had no way of knowing whether they were truly his guards, or Changeling infiltrators. But they would have to make due for one night until he could find alternatives. He, quite literally, had no other choice.
As he descended to his study, the Senator reasoned with himself that it was highly unlikely the infiltrators would make another play for his daughter so soon after the first had failed. Moreover, he had chosen the guards specifically from the platoon that had saved him on the landing platform. He had settled on that as the safest, most logical recourse open to him.
Condign's study was a masterful tour of old-world architecture and memorabilia; Shelves containing actual paper books and scrolls lined each wall, the floor was teak planking, and the furnishings were mostly brass and wrought iron.
The Senator collapsed into his leather high-backed chair, and spent a long moment trying to collect himself. He then reached forward, and swiped a hoof over the oaken desk, bringing up an unobtrusive holographic menu.
He tapped a small control, and leaned back to wait. Within moments, Punctual Balm answered the remote summons, peeking around the door to the library almost silently.
"You rang sir?"
Condign gestured to one of his guest chairs, his tone reserved and flat.
"Come in Balm. I'm in need of a little advice."
As the older Unicorn sat, he spoke sardonically.
"A 'little' sir?"
"Mmm. I suppose you're right; 'little' hardly does the situation justice."
The attache tilted his head slightly, throwing his graying mane into sharp relief under the tastefully low-powered golden ceiling lights as he adopted a more serious tone.
"Levity aside; Why call for me sir? Even if we dismiss the possibility that I am a Changeling, what could I possibly tell you that you don't already know?"
Condign smirked, snorting his first words slightly as he spoke.
"Well let's not dismiss the possibility that you're a Changeling entirely out of a hoof."
The Senator narrowed his eyes, his expression growing more serious, along with his words.
"Do you remember what I told you, the first time I had to leave Stella in your care?"
Balm raised an eyebrow, replying in a low and steady tone.
"You told me that, and I quote, 'Should any harm come to her as a result of negligence on your part, I will turn your entire body inside out and leave you for the ravens.' To which I replied sir, 'If harm should come to her at all, I will gladly throw myself on one of your ceremonial swords first.' "
Condign smiled, "We both had something of a flare for the dramatic back then, didn't we?"
"*Had* sir?"
The Senator chuckled, " 'Have' then. In any case; now that that's out of the way; I called you here because you may be able to help me resolve a dilemma."
Balm shifted in his chair, relaxing slightly.
"I'll do my best Senator."
Condign leaned forward, lowering his voice as if speaking conspiratorially.
"You were once Equestrian Special Forces."
"That is one of the reasons you chose me to be your attache sir."
The Senator nodded slowly as he continued his train of thought.
"Indeed. More importantly to the matter at hoof; You fought in the Larantes conflicts, yes?"
Punctual nodded slowly, "Alongside the Gryphon clan of the same name, against an invading House of unusually agressive Dragons. The presence of Equestrian Republic forces in the battles was meant to be something of a secret; We weren't supposed to be involved. But the defense minister at the time thought that the Dragon House Ire'nahlacht would present a threat to outer Equestrian colonies if they managed to gain a clawhold in Clan Larantes' territory."
Balm sighed, and shook his head as he finished the thought.
"Or worse, that it would set a precedent for the more conservative Dragon enclaves and pave the way for a larger future war."
The ex-soldier sat back and sighed, "Why they thought the Gryphons needed our help is still beyond me. They would have easily won on their own. Though outnumbered, they were better trained than the enemy, better equipped, and like all warriors fighting to protect something they care for, they had the edge of emotion. It wouldn't have mattered in the end regardless; The House Ire'nahlacht was one rogue extremist bloodline. They didn't have any support from the Dragons as a whole. Clan Larantes, on the other hoof, would have had the support of the entire Gryphon Empire if they had asked for it."
Condign sat, musing for a moment with a hoof against his chin. Balm narrowed his eyes in confusion.
"What are you thinking sir?"
The Senator tapped his hoof on the desk in a steady beat, "I am thinking, Balm, that Changelings can not mimic Gryphons. You could be replaced, Stella's guards could be replaced... Even *I* could be replaced."
The attache grunted, "I don't follow sir. Wasn't the infiltrator after you?"
Condign shook his head emphatically.
"It was after Stella. What good does it do them to kidnap me? For all they know, I have secured my research somewhere where they'll never manage to find it before it reaches fruition. And then any future hope of using their shape shifting to their advantage is ruined. No... They want a way to force me to give them my secrets. And they're being clever about it too. Stella is the only thing in this life that I'd consider betraying my nation to save. I'm positive that they know this, and wish to exploit the fact."
Balm sighed, "And so you plan to do... What exactly sir?"
Condign locked eyes with his old friend, "I plan to make a very risky gamble. But I don't see any other good solutions. I plan to place a Gryphon in charge of protecting my daughter, until this endeavour with the Zebra inevitably yields its fruit. Then we can all stop living in fear."
The aging attache nodded slowly, "I see sir. And you called me here because you want advice on the Gryphons."
"Very specific advice Balm. They're long lived creatures; Surely some of the ones you fought alongside are still kicking around? Was there anyone you shared battle with who you think would be particularly suited to the task? Anyone you trusted? Someone you'd trust even now, with your life?"
Balm sat staring down at the floor, as if tracing the grain of the teak with his eyes. He did not look up as he spoke, "There is one Gryphon who comes immediately to mind. When I knew him, he was a Knight of the High Guard. The closest thing you can imagine would be our own Special Forces, though that hardly does it justice. He was captain of a fast attack ship, and led several ground actions as well, where I had a chance to fight directly beside him in person."
Condign sat in silence, waiting for his friend to finish the tale. Balm finally raised his head, and stared back at the Senator once more. His expression was stony, and carried a deathly serious pall.
"During the latter half of the battle of Aegis IV, we were being supported by a pair of Draconic heavy assault destroyers. A gesture of 'goodwill' from another neighboring House, eager to prove that they were still friends of the Gryphons and Equestrians. This particular Gryphon... He had a strong sense of certainty, and powerful instincts."
The light from the desk's holographic controls twinkled in Balm's eyes, giving them a steely and morbid aspect that his voice mirrored.
"When the Gryphon got word that there was a spy on the crew of one of the allied Draconic destroyers, he ordered his entire wing to open fire on both craft."
Condign stiffened, but allowed Punctual to finish nonetheless.
"His instincts, and analysis, were spot on. Both craft turned out to be on an assignment for our enemies. Had we allowed them to spearhead the second wave of our attack, as had been the plan, they would have ambushed us, and that would have led to a full on route. In spite of the political fallout, inspite of the uncertainty, and inspite of objection, he made a difficult judgement call based on instinct, and what facts were available to him. He saw a pattern that no one else did, and he was willing to act on that, even to the point of firing on an ally without warning."
The Senator hummed thoughtfully, "And... You'd trust that same judgement again?"
"With my life, and Stella's, sir."
Condign sighed and inclined his head, "That will have to be validation enough. Unless you have any other bright ideas, I don't see any better ways of protecting my daughter. Do we need to worry about this Gryphon having an agenda of any sort?"
Balm snorted as he rose, "Sir... Gryphons as a *species* do not have agendas. I'm not even sure they have what you would call politics at all."
"So what do they run their government on?"
The attache turned as he reached the door.
"Honor, guts, glory, and bloodied swords sir."
The chamber was often colloquially referred to as 'The Throne Room.' Shaped more or less like a triangular pyramid, the walls and ceiling were constructed of a shiny black material reminiscent of smoothed obsidian.
The floor and walls were mostly bare, save for a regal and ominous chair-like structure in the center of the chamber. The seat was flanked by a pair of large electrical relays shaped vaguely like claws. Above the throne was a smaller triangular pyramid, suspended upside down from the ceiling with the point aimed at whomever was seated on the chair.
The node above, and the electrical relays, were both a shade of steel gray with glowing green energy channels.
Ensconced within the throne was a lithe, glistening, dark form. She sported both a twisted black horn, and a set of dry, leaf-like teal hued wings. Atop her brow sat a dull iron colored circlet that denoted her rank; Queen.
All three entryways to the chamber were guarded by a pair of stone-faced, unflinching drones encased in unusually thick chitin layers and sporting menacing shoulder-mounted particle rifles that had been quite literally grown into their exoskeletons.
A menacing tone sounded from a hidden processing unit. The queen tilted her head, and the thaumotechnological biochip interfaced to the base of her brain stem instantly converted her unspoken order into bytes of wireless data.
A greenish hued hologram of a Changeling infiltrator blinked into existence in front of the throne. The Queen spoke; her tone was slow and sweet, yet tinged with a hint of ice, "Report. Was your task completed as ordered?"
The Drone shifted from hoof to hoof, "There was... A complication."
The Queen inclined her head, "Understood. Has your position been compromised?"
The infiltrator nodded. The Queen tilted her head once more, and issued a telepathic command. On the holocomm, the figure of the Drone stiffened, then dropped to the ground lifeless and began to slowly dissolve from within. Cell by cell, his organs and chitin self-destructed at the behest of remotely triggered genetic failsafes.
The Queen terminated the connection. Though she didn't open her muzzle, her voice issued forth from hidden speakers, and washed over the minds of every Drone in her hive.
"Initial attempts to acquire the target have failed. We require a more forceful solution; Initiate action four-two-six. Bring the filly here. By any means necessary."
"But *Daddy!* I don't *want* a guardian! Don't you still trust Balm?!"
Condign sighed, and fired off a silent prayer for patience before speaking.
"Sweetie... Balm is... not as young as he used to be."
Stella ground a hoof into the tarmac and pouted, her lower lip protruding, "I thought you said they weren't after me! Why isn't he going to be *your* guardian?"
The Senator raised an eyebrow, sighing inwardly as he hit upon a humorous way to diffuse the perilous line of questioning, "Are you saying you don't think your old man can take care of himself?"
The filly snorted and chuckled, "Daaaaad!"
Condign smiled, "Think of it this way; he's here for both of us."
"But having him around all the time, telling us what to do, is gonna be boooorrrrriiing!" Stella's pouty face returned with a speed and vehemence that Condign found both amazing, and amusing in equal portions.
He grinned, "I think you'll be surprised." He glanced across the landing pad and noted, with some discomfort, that there was still a barely-visible scar where the flat surface joined the structure of the building behind it. As amazing as it was that the tarmac had been repaired to operational status so swiftly, Condign feared that the personal scars left by the attack might not be so easily dispatched.
Condign's reminiscing, and any arguments from Stella, were abruptly cut short by the approaching din of a large shuttlecraft.
The vessel made a dozen trips to and from Tygalt Major's orbiting shipyards on a daily basis; a high passenger capacity was a necessity given that the facility was the terminus node of a major bulk transport route.
Tygalt Major's crops were shipped all over the quadrant, and the craft that facilitated the shipping were far too massive to be landed planetside.
The enormous container vessels rarely carried shuttlecraft of their own, and as a result their crews relied on transportation provided by the spaceports themselves.
While the runabout was not quite as large as the Diplomatic courier Condign favored, it still filled the majority of the platform, heralding its coming with a deafening roar and an accompanying gust of wind.
The craft came to rest gracefully, and as the engines spooled down the noise and air currents normalized, and the rear hatch dropped to offer egress to the passengers.
Most were Ponies; their drab jumpsuits immediately identified them as freighter crews. Stella frowned; there was nothing special or surprising about them. She had seen thousands like them come and go over the course of her life.
For a few years, she had begged and pleaded with her father on a daily basis to be allowed to come with him to work whenever he was home. She would sit at an upper window of the government complex and eagerly watch the shuttles come and go, hoping desperately to catch sight of something, or someone, interesting.
Tygalt Major was a deeply homogenous community, and rarely visited by anyone other than Equestrian Republic citizens. Eventually the young filly had realized that she was unlikely to ever see anyone of consequence or interest darkening the door of the landing platform.
Thus, Stella harbored no special expectations about the new visitor whatsoever. If he was really so special, then why didn't he arrive in his own ship? Stella reasoned, with an ever declining mood of pessimism, that the 'guardian' was probably just an elite member of the Republic Guards.
Stella turned to gaze out across the fields below, and sighed. She neglected to even turn when an unfamiliar voice, the newcomer's, addressed her father, "Senator."
The filly huffed and glared out at the horizon as her father responded, "Welcome to Tygalt Major. I hope your trip was comfortable."
"It was swift. I'm less concerned with comfort at this stage; you and your daughter are in a great deal of danger if what you've told me is true." There was a pause, "Is this her?"
"Indeed. Stella? I'd like you to meet our new protector..."
The filly winced, but internally screwed up the composure to smile politely. Her father had always taught her to be kind and civil to strangers, so kind and civil she would be. When she turned to face the newcomer, however, she lost all semblance of emotional control, and stood with muzzle agape.
Before her was an honest-to-Celestia, true-to-life Gryphon. Tall and imposing; the sienna in his feathers practically glowed in the noonday sun. At his back was a traditional Gryphic sidebladed-spear, on his forelegs and the joints of his wings were peculiar gauntlet-like defensive plates forged from pure Selenium.
Condign smiled and gestured with a hoof, "This is Kelran Ii'shth'nar, of clan Lantares. Kelran; this is my daughter Stellar Nova. she goes by Stella most of the time for short."
Stella's eyes widened until she feared they would pop out of her head. The Gryphon bent his head down to her level, and offered her one enormous gleaming foreclaw, "Its a pleasure."
The filly stood in shell shock for several more awkward moments, before timidly placing her hoof into the claw and shaking it briefly, "You're... You're a... real Gryphon?!"
Kelran raised an eyebrow, as she continued to shake his claw as if on mental autopilot, "Yes...? I'm not sure what's so surprising about that..."
Condign chuckled, "You'll have to forgive Stella; she's never met one of your kind before. Though I suspect she's always wanted to."
The Gryphon inclined his head, "Well. In that case; Yes. I am a real Gryphon. Not that there is any other kind." He paused, and grinned ever-so-slightly, "You can stop shaking my claw now. I'm not going to vanish if you let go."
Stella winced once more, and withdrew her hoof, blushing. Her mortified embarrassment gave way to elated curiosity almost immediately, however, when Kelran turned his attention back to Condign, "I presume you and your daughter have arranged transport back to your home..."
Kelran spread one of his wings slightly, "I would prefer to fly myself. Both in the interests of security, and of saving space in your vehicle."
Stella couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of the feathered warrior trying to squeeze into their hover carriage. She smiled as her father helped her into the back seat, and Kelran spread his wings.
She decided that she was going to enjoy having a guardian after all.
