"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.