Krndl hated giving reports.

Well, no, that was generalizing it a bit too much. Written reports were fine. Now, at least.

She hadn't had any idea what to do the first time she had to give a written report, so she had simply copied an older one that sounded like it was roughly saying the correct thing. It had been followed by a few days of dread that someone might notice, but no one had said anything. Afterward, she had scrambled together every old report she could get her hands on and then spent days trying to decipher the gibberish those things were always written in. It had been exhausting, but it put a lot of strain off her mind afterward. By now, she had a neat collection of text blocks on her datapad, and whenever she had to file a report that she couldn’t delegate to someone who actually knew what they were doing, she would puzzle one together from those. It still took a while to do it like this, but at least she could produce acceptable results. And, as an added bonus, having to file a report was a great excuse to escape the bridge for a while.

Oral reports, on the other hand, were a nightmare. Even if she was given a warning early enough in advance to prepare what she would say, it was still bad. One, because she had to talk to one or more people of higher rank, which she disliked on principle. If superiors didn’t talk to her, it meant they had nothing to reprimand her for, and that meant she hadn’t made any noteworthy mistakes. And two, oral reports didn’t just end with the report. There was a high chance that there would be questions asked. Questions required answers, and answers provided opportunities for screw-ups. Her go-to tactic in that regard was to find someone under her command whose position had something to do with the report, make up some stupid reason why it was necessary that they accompanied her, rely on them as a backup, and hope no off-topic questions would be asked.

After all the mental exhaustion following that signal had caused her, she had been glad that the patrol shift had only been a few days away. Once the new ships were on the Bridgeway, Krndl’s flotilla made the jump back. Eight days did they need to reach Hsvegplia, time she spent to first piece together her report and then look forward to at least a short period of rest. The latter was not something she was allowed to do for long.

Before they had even reached their homeworld, Krndl received a message that upon lading, she was to report to Admiral Nschk, one of the highest-ranking people in their navy! And even worse, she got that message when they were only halfway to the planet. In other words, she had a full four days to stress herself out over this meeting, time she, unfortunately, was able to use to its fullest.

Now, the Hunter had finally reached their home. The cruiser itself wouldn’t land at the garrison - it would go to the dock for maintenance - so instead, they boarded a shuttle to quickly bring them to their destination. Krndl didn’t complain about it, the sooner this whole ordeal would be over, the better. Once they entered the atmosphere, in an attempt to prevent her beak from clacking nervously in front of her subordinates, she looked out of the window, only to notice something. While her sense of direction wasn’t great, she was fairly certain that this didn’t look right. Was she imagining things? Better not say anything. Bringing them where they needed to be was the pilot’s job, not hers.

A few more hours passed, and she turned out to be right. They weren’t at the garrison, no; they were in the capital. Why, of all places, were they here? The pilot was opening the doors, so it clearly wasn’t a mistake.

Oh, right, she was supposed to exit first.

Doing her best to stand up in a way that was fast yet didn’t look rushed, Krndl got up from her seat and left the shuttle. The entire city was built around the slope of a large crater and extended in all directions from it.

The shuttle had placed them close to the edge of the crater. Behind her, Doctor Mnakr and Rndz did the same. That was about all Krndl was able to assess until she noticed the figure awaiting her. She quickly lowered her head and crossed her arms before her face, Krsnelv’s traditional salute.

“Stand,” Admiral ordered and Krndl as well as others obliged. Then, she waited. Despite everything, Krndl knew enough about common procedures to be aware that she wasn’t expected to give her report out in the open. There was no military facility nearby, but surely, the admiral had something in mind. Why else would he want to meet her here?

Her assumption proved correct. Nschk turned, gesturing them to follow, and together, they walked up the remaining bit to the edge of the crater. The caldera itself was a lot smaller than it appeared from the outside and not very deep either. It contained a plain of untouched nature save for a singular building that looked almost anachronistic compared to the surrounding city. It was called the House of Memories.

They went down the stairs, followed by a short walk over to the building. Krndl said nothing, which was, of course, expected from her, but she would have been quiet regardless because there was no way she would’ve been able to formulate a functioning sentence right now. All her mental capacity was needed to keep her walking.

Maybe she should’ve connected the dots earlier, but now it was clear that she wasn’t just expected to report to the admiral, no, they would be meeting one of the elders. Krndl had always been convinced that the day she would stand before an elder would be the day something had fundamentally gone wrong in her life, and right now, she wasn’t exactly confident that it hadn’t. This had to be about the dead alien they had found, and if so, she was infinitely thankful that her past self had the presence of mind to bring the doctor with her.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The interior of the building matched its exterior in terms of looking ancient, though Krndl didn’t have enough historical knowledge to say whether or not this was how their houses used to look in the distant past. Or why. All she knew was that it served as the seat of their government, the four elders. Each of them reigned over one of the core aspects of their society, and each had absolute authority in their domain. Two or more of them meeting for discussion was something that only happened when those domains intersected, usually for matters of great importance.

The admiral opened a door and Krndl entered. All four elders were looking at her.

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The door of Silgvani’s office closed, and the princess allowed herself to lean back in her chair. That was one item off the list. The last two invas had been spent discussing the topic of the child and the ward of clan Silpiyne coming to the Star Palace following Nadine’s idea. Now that she thought about it, they still needed to come up with a name for this position, as the translator refused to turn it into a usable word.

Next, she would need to plan the trials of all the spies they had caught. It was something that should have already happened a while ago - and would have, had the whole ordeal with Eroas not happened. Right, the investigation needed to be put on its way as well. Another thing that was long due was the ceremony for-

As if on cue, there was a knock on her door, and upon being called in, Nadine entered.

“Good timing, I just finalized our agreement with clan Silpiyne. I take it you are prepared for… whatever you have in mind for the son of clan Reiylar?”

“I didn’t have as much time as I had hoped, but I have a few things,” the small alien affirmed.

“And… did you have time to think about my proposal?” the princess inquired. “It’s still a few cycles in the future, so you don’t have to answer now if not.”

“I did, but… I’m not sure. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t mind staying with you and helping where I can, it’s just… there are still so many uncertainties. But, speaking of: assuming I were to permanently stay here, there would be some things I would need. Exercises wouldn't be enough.”

“Of course, I will make sure all your requirements are met to our best possibility.”

“Yeah, possibility is exactly the point I was getting at. I don’t know exactly how your artificial gravity works, so I wanted to ask one of your mechanics I befriended, but I couldn’t find him. His name is Liyzo.”

That name rang a bell. Silgvani grabbed her datapad and opened the employee files to confirm her suspicion.

“Liyzo… ah, yes. He was let go shortly after the emergency protocol ended.”

Nadine’s eyes got wide.

“What? Why?!”

“He endangered two high-priority individuals by taking you and Kiyrtin on a shuttle without checking the fuel. And then he slept on duty.”

Her expression hardened.

“Only us two, huh? Then what are Rhinkus and Quiyrra, “low priority”?”

“...”

“Forget it,” she sighed. “Anyway, shouldn’t he at least get a second chance?”

“Please don’t take offense to this, Nadine, but I think you aren’t fully grasping the scope of his error. Besides, that already was his second chance anyway. Mhita recorded an admonishment in his file just a few days prior to that.”

Nadine didn’t seem satisfied with the answer, though this time, it seemed rather childish to Silgvani.

Well, despite everything, she IS a child. Maybe I should just switch the topic for now.

“By the way, we also still need to plan your award ceremony.”

That certainly got a reaction out of the small alien.

“Crap, I completely forgot about that! I know I already asked that, but does it have to be a public ceremony? Can’t I just get the medal and be done with it?”

“No can do,” the princess chuckled. “Besides, you’re not getting a medal. You’re getting an honorary title along with an estate and a ship.”

“WHAT?! Sil, that’s… that’s…”

“Appropriate by our traditions,” Silgvani stated. “If it makes it easier for you to accept: it would be very bad for my reputation to give you any less than that.”

The alien girl fell quiet for a moment. Then, her expression shifted again.

“Will… will the ship have a crew?”

“Well, it won’t be a big one, but a few people would be needed, yes.”

“Can I decide who gets hired for that?”

“Of course, it’ll be your ship. Why are you asking?”

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Krndl stood to the side, glad how quickly the focus of the conversation had shifted away from her, Mnakr was now the center of attention as he explained in great detail what he had learned about the alien from his autopsy.

“And you are certain it had no weapon on it?”

Oh, shoot, that wasn’t a medical question. Was she supposed to answer that?

“The only weapons we found on board were those of the Kiroscha, each lying next or close to its deceased owner,” Rndz explained to her relief. "By my estimate, the alien's manipulators would've been too small to use them."

“Do you have any idea how a single being could achieve such a feat?” the elder on the right asked. Krndl had no idea what either of them were called.

“The body was incredibly dense,” Mnakr took the word again. “It was so heavy we had trouble even getting it on board. It stands to reason that it would have the strength to match its mass. There are hypotheses about potential life developing under higher gravity than is common, and while they are disputed, this find seems to back them up.”

“That’s all well and good,” the only elder that hadn’t spoken so far said, “but if my memory serves me right, then we have a more pressing matter at hand.”

While he said that, a servant came rushing in, bowed, and then gave something to the elder.

“Ah, finally,” the elder commented, took it, and seemingly compared it to the pictures Mnakr had made during his autopsy.

“Yes, no doubt, that is the same species. How unfortunate, had we gotten this report a few days prior, we could have told the Vanaery's messenger about it. Oh well, it is how it is. Captain.”

This time, it was clear that they were referring to her. Krndl stepped forth.

“As soon as the maintenance of your ship is done, gather your crew. You will travel to Hohmiy and tell the Vanaery of your findings.”