“Thank you. Kadlawen, you can pick me up in the clearing by my headquarters, pick up Sira at the palace, and then we can head on up.”

And so Kadlawen floats up high enough that the tornado resulting from teleportation won’t hurt local wildlife- alongside Atehsai and Runla and their familiars, provided they care to come along- and pops on over to collect Sira, and pops on over to collect Rakaskem, and pop-pop-pop-pops up into space, finally entering the ship itself via an exquisitely small tornado. They don’t need any particular protection from the vacuum; roc-based whirlwinds produce air, rather than moving it.

“Hello!” he beams at whoever happens to be near the designated teleportation area. 

(These people are Ateshai’s friends and coworkers, he is not going to make a bad impression, he refuses to make a bad impression-)

“Hey,” says Rakaskem, scanning for someone who looks reasonably important. 

“Salutations!” chirps Sira, completing a trifecta of variously formal greetings and waving around an obscene number of surveys. “Would anyone perhaps like to contribute to the body of scientific knowledge, possibly in exchange for outrageous mystical bribes?”

"Hello. I'll have a look at those forms, then see them distributed among my crew to those with the spare time, in the interest of scientific exchange. My crew do not accept compensation from outside entities."

She makes a dismissive gesture.

”If you’d rather save me the mana, dear, I’m hardly one to complain- here.”

The surveys swoosh out of her hands, each individual packet going in a slightly different direction; they take on a formation much akin to a flock of birds, swirl in one smooth spiral, and land, one plip after another, on a suddenly extant invisible platform, right in front of Tanna. 

(She doesn’t often use her telekinesis, but when she does, she makes a point of using it with characteristic flair.)

(Rakaskem rolls his eyes.)

Kadlawen- who is casually holding hands with Ateshai, because why would he do something other than that- smiles at the- captain? They’re probably the captain, unless ‘my crew’ is translating oddly. He really wants to make a good impression-

”Um, that aside- thank you so much for letting us aboard! You have lovely taste in decor- it’s all wonderfully utilitarian, I’m unaccustomed to the style but it has its distinct virtues- and I just adore the outside, too, I only caught a glimpse but the design’s completely unlike our own astro-nautical styles. Would it be okay if we looked around a bit, while we’re up here...?”

“And could I speak to you in private, plus or minus a few optional bodyguards?” says Rakaskem, looking at Tanna.

There's only four other people present other than Tanna, of the fifteen on the ship (well, seventeen now, with Ateshai and Runla having returned): Aleshen, their Alean god - currently dark-skinned, male, eight feet tall (or a foot taller than the next taller person), with features inhumanly beautiful and symmetrical; Ridabet, a short gnomish woman with reddish hair, sharp eyes, and pale human-toned skin; Sureyai, a male humanoid fox (not that his gender's obvious, looking at him) with soft yellow fur and two curling tails; and Nyall, a muscular cat-woman with speckled fur in browns and golds, taller than anyone else on her side except Aleshen. Their clothing varies around a theme, common colors and simple geometric patterns denoting their uniform, altering with each culture and species.

She inclines her head, and Sureyai picks up the packet, stowing it in an interior pocket of the broad sash about his waist. It makes no noticeable bulge.

"He will see to distribution. As for exploring, you'll be provided with an escort, of course, but looking around is acceptable. You seem familiar with Ateshai and Runla already; would you all accept them, plus Nyall here?" she asks, gesturing to the woman. "And a meeting is acceptable. I will have two of my crew accompany me. There's a reception room off this bay, if the matter's urgent?"

“Ateshai is an extraordinary person, and while I’m not as familiar with him as I might like, I am familiar enough with him to give him magical presents and compose sappy love poetry and have snuggly makeout sessions, and familiar enough with Runla to know that she has more vivacity than ten ordinary people, and familiar enough with Nyall to know that they have an excellent sense of yetyelpü-style fashion. Those escorts would be fine.”

“... and it is, in fact, fairly urgent,” adds Rakaskem.

She nods. "Well, I'll leave the rest of you to your tour, then. Aleshen, Ridabet, with me. The reception room is through here." She strides over to a section of wall, touches it, and it flashes and then opens into a rather cozy lounge-type area.

"I'll get these distributed, then," Sureyai says, inclining his head and strolling through another door. (He intends to check them rather thoroughly for potential hazards, first, and to caution the crew against revealing any information that could easily be used against them, potentially including removing specific questions, but otherwise doesn't see much harm in scientific collaboration.)

"Hello. I'm Nyall, originally from the planet Dwamla. What sorts of areas would you be interested in seeing first?" she asks whoever stays behind. She's moderately off-put by being assigned to tour guide duty, but she understands the logic - the Captain is immensely unlikely to need a guard past Aleshen, and between her, Runla, and Ateshai they can handle most threats that might pop up - towards or from their guests.

She's also friendlier than most. (Small crew deep space exploratory vessels do not usually draw many charismatic types.)

Rakaskem eyes the lounge area, selects a cozy looking seat, and- as might have been predicted in advance- sits on it. He waits, until the entrance is closed, to speak.

“So,” he says.

I have information that you’re likely to want. One of my companions- the fuschia one- can read minds: she doesn’t, ordinarily, but she does do occasional, surface-level intention-scans. The information that I’m inclined to give you might make you trigger an intention-scan. That would be bad. Do I have permission to ward the three of you against surface-level mental intrusion, so that I can safely give you information, or do you already have presumably sufficient defenses?”

(The above-mentioned mind reader, meanwhile, proclaims a desire to see the crew’s living quarters; Kadlawen has no objections. The tour proceeds unremarkably.)

"My rank is sufficient for state-of-the-art warding under our native system, but I don't know how it would interact with your magic. I'm hesitant to accept a ward from a magic system I don't know, starting with the risk of unwanted interactions."

"I can apply wards that work on a more conceptual level, Captain."

She inclines her head. "I'm comfortable with my wards, then," she says to Rakaskem.

“Fine, then,” he says.

“I’ve been working to overthrow the stupid, cancerous thing that we call a governmental system since I knew what it was. Did the concept of ‘teenage dictators, so entitled because of earthshaking magical power’ strike you as a horrible idea, when you first heard about it? It is one. One of my compatriots, Sashadon, throws weekly orgies, with mandatory viewing for adults. During the most recent one, he gouged someone’s eyes out, burned no less than three people alive, kept one person breathing while 57 needles pierced their chest, doused someone in acid, and broke thirty-seven people’s bones, alongside other miscellaneous atrocities. Participants were mostly there of their own free will, in return for varied bribery, but didn’t have anything resembling a safeword.

Sashadon rules over seventy million people.

Our criminal justice systems are made out of a duct tape, cardboard, and alternation between ‘rape is a minor fine’ and ‘annoying a noble mage is an execution offense’. Our education systems are made of plywood. There are gender-based restrictions on profession; browns to food service, blues to art and media, roses to medicine.

I’ve managed to make some peaceful progress, in my own region- managed to only have nominal rule, managed to give most of the power to the people- but it isn’t enough, and our people are horribly acculturated. Some of the other royal mages are making tentative efforts towards decency. Lalvien’s liberal. Kadlawen nudges people towards decency- I doubt that Sasha’s pastimes would have even a veneer of consent, if he hadn’t pushed for it. Neither of them would dream of upsetting the status quo.

I want to upset the status quo. I will, eventually. I’m curious about how much you’d be willing to help.”

"We have a policy against that kind of direct interference except for the explicit and sole goal of preserving life on a massive scale in an emergency. This usually means 'volcanic explosion' or 'asteroid impact.' Interfering goes wrong far, far more often than it goes right. The Federation can and does exert political and economic pressure on both member states and potential member states, as well as potential trading partners - there are minimum standards a state must meet before being accepted, and while waivers can be received they're next to impossible. A state that joins the Federation benefits from our defensive pacts, but we don't aid in wars of aggression."

(This is not surprising information. The locals' wards against scrying are pathetic, and Sureyai is very, very good at what he does.)

The wards are wounded, truly- it’s hardly their fault that Ruwien magic is dreadful at both divination and anti-divination, and that nobody thought espionage likely enough to waste more than a few sacrifices strengthening them.

There’s one person on the ship, however, who was willing to spend a ritual sacrifice strengthening a very particular sort of undetectability. And who was, furthermore, perfectly willing to discretely tag along on Kadlawen’s tornado.

She becomes visible, gaudy, skull-themed jewelry and all.

”How fortunate, that this is the case,” she says, to Tanna. “Otherwise I would have to kill you.”

Aleshen glances at her, freezing her in place.

"Fortunate for you, perhaps. Attempted murder would carry a greater charge in the Federation than spying or merely threatening a Captain."