Brow furrowed, head down, Kellin padded into the captain’s ready room just far enough to escape the reach of the doors’ sensors.  He waited long enough for the doors to close behind him until he accepted the protection of sanctuary from the rest of the crew.

He blinked a couple of times before he looked at Brennan, looked right at her.

“Captain, could that entire starship be alive?” he asked.

Brennan had long stopped trying to understand the inscapes of Kellin’s mind, and with a perfunctory wave of her hand, offered him to sit.
Could the ship be alive? Absolutely.
Did that make their mission any easier? Absolutely not.

“It is possible.” Brennan said, giving a light shrug. “But we will have to leave it to Simmons to figure that out. I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”

Kellin blinked at her, but he didn’t say anything.  He stared into the middle distance and a couple of heartbeats later he nodded vaguely.  In a smooth motion, he yanked one of the guest chairs back from the desk and he took a seat.  He didn’t scoot the chair any closer to the desk.

“Whether it is or isn’t – I am more concerned about the lack of lifesigns within the dome. It’s a vessel, that’s what we can be sure of. But where is the crew?”, Brennan mused.

Kellin gripped the armrests and planted his feet.  “Starfleet can find no records of the vessel passing through Federation space before it drifted out of the Briar Patch.  After a voyage that long, the crew could be in stasis,”  –in an undertone, he added– “or dead.  Or shielded from our sensors.”

“There are no signs of a struggle, or system failure. So if they are in stasis, I suppose it wasn’t an emergency.” Brennan interjected.

His eyes widening in awe, Kellin shook his head.  “With only solar sails to carry them, they could’a planned a voyage of decades or longer.  Planning for a generational ship or stasis is the only way to stay alive.”

“Yes. But if they use those means of travel, they would have automated a response to our hails.” she said. “At least that’s my assumption. Based on experience rather than factual evidence.”

“Look at you,” Kellin said fondly, “with experience of automated hails.  When Starfleet took a protective posture, we could only dream of meeting new civilisations.  You were going to talk us out of any problem and I wanted to punch a brand new alien.  Just once.  To see if it felt any different.”

Brennan closed her eyes for a moment longer than she had meant to.
He was, of course, correct – back when they had first dreamed of becoming Starfleet officers, back when things had seemed so much easier, they had talked hours on end about how their hypothetical first encounter with a new species would play out.

But back then, they also thought they’d stick together. Then came different assignments, the new friends, new challenges, and after several of Brennan’s messages to him had gone unanswered, she hadn’t sent again.

And now they were here – together. Potentially meeting a brand new alien. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

“That was when I wasn’t captain yet.” she reminded him. “Now that I am, please do not punch anyone. It’s a lot of paperwork I really don’t want to do.”

Nodding in agreement, Kellin said through a chuckle, “No punching.  That’s what the axe is for.”  And he laughed again and dropped his chin to his chest.  He smiled, but it didn’t entirely reach his eyes.

“You’ll be relieved to learn the mentor who got me into command red was a scientist and diplomat,” Kellin said, as if that could prove he had changed.  “I had to strip out of security gold because it got too boring at archaeological dig sites.”

“I know.” Brennan stated as blasé as she could possibly manage. “We said we’d keep track of each other. I did.”
And despite knowing that it was unfair to assume, she was fairly sure that she was the only one.

A heartbeat later, Kellin nodded slowly.  He rubbed the back of his neck, saying, “You were always so good at that.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Either way. We’re hypothesizing, and I dislike doing so. Let’s see if Simmons is able to shed some light on the matter.”

Kellin bounced to his feet, quick to give Brennan her space.  On light steps, he strode to the door, sing-songing, “More first contact.  Less physical contact.”