58807.15-2000 - "Arrival"

Old habits died hard for Léa as she instinctively braced for the jump to warp. Of course there was no perceptible shift in momentum as the Vanguard accelerated—the inertial dampers saw to that—but some reactions won out anyway. When the viewscreen settled into a steady stream of stars, she let the muscles in her thighs and back ease. A slight exhale escaped her as she breathed more comfortably, her eyes moving across the bridge while reports continued to come in.

Her attention shifted overhead when Commander Achaea reported that the Type-8 probe was ready for launch. The order was given promptly by her executive officer, with the addendum that they compensate for speed.

Then came Griffith’s suggestion that they attempt communication, and Zaje’s caution against it.

Léa nodded to both of them, weighing the recommendations against one another and finding that they complemented as much as they contrasted. There was room to check whether the Kepler had been disabled and was simply in need of a call—but given the uncertainty, caution was warranted. Both officers were playing their parts well, and for a moment it settled her. She felt a little more at ease in the chair. After a beat of consideration, she had a compromise.

“Caution is indeed warranted, Lieutenant Korn. But we also want to be sure that whatever has befallen the Kepler and her crew is not missed simply because we never even attempted contact.” She glanced at Griffith, then back to the forward viewer. “We can send a message on official Starfleet frequencies only, which should limit our exposure. No broadband emissions. If you would be so kind as to open a channel, Lieutenant Korn.” She stood, offering him a glance that made clear she appreciated the prudence.

Risk is sometimes part of the job if you want to wear the uniform, she thought.

When the channel opened, she began. “To the officers and crew of the USS Kepler, this is Captain Léa Chevalier of the USS Vanguard. We have been dispatched to locate and retrieve you. Please respond if you are able. Standard Starfleet security verification is requested. Code Delta.” She nodded to Zaje to end the transmission and close the channel.

The precautions were twofold. Starfleet frequencies reduced the chance of interception, and a security verification would tell them if the reply was genuine—unless those frequencies or codes had already been compromised. - (OOC Notes: Specifically mentioned @Greggory Griffith, @Zaje Korn.)

Léa allowed a moment of quiet to settle over the bridge after Commander Lektar reported no response to the transmission. “Understood, Commander,” she answered. “Please retransmit my message every quarter-hour until further notice.”

She glanced at Commander Griffith for an instant, then back to Lieutenant Korn.

“Just because we did not receive an immediate answer does not mean they are not out there listening.” She knew there might be reasons the Kepler and her crew could not reply so quickly. They could have been disabled. Their communications could have been damaged, or left inoperable. Or they might not have heard the first transmission at all. With the message set to repeat, that window would stay open as long as possible. Internally, though, she imagined they would not find the wayward ship—or learn what had happened to it—until they had finished homing in on the ion trail.

With an exhale, she stood. “Number One, you have the bridge. Please inform me of any new information, or if the Kepler responds to our transmission. I’ll be in my ready room.” She nodded to Griffith, then made for the port-side doors and the corridor beyond. Once inside, she crossed to the replicator. “Green tea with honey. Hot.” As the cup materialized, she looked to the viewport and the stars streaming past, and wondered for a moment.

Cup and saucer in hand, she went behind her desk and sat.

“Are you out there?” she asked no one in particular, still watching the stars. “Where are you?” - (OOC Notes: Specifically mentioned @Shirk Lektar, @Greggory Griffith, @Zaje Korn.)