“Captain Walton.”

Wren looked up from her coffee at the man standing before her, his features familiar.  She searched through her memories until she landed on who he was.  It was not a good memory.  “Commander Gregor.  It's been a few years.”  She didn't stand.  She watched his eyes, staring at her with an escalating fury.

He spat out, “Nine years.  And I'm not in Starfleet anymore.”  She observed his stance.  It reminded her of the ancient military practice of standing at parade rest.  She put that note on her front burner.  Traffic was abundant in the area of the promenade where she sat.

She sipped at her tea, letting the silence drift into a longer pause.  He was here for something.  Nine years ago, she'd had to fight him every step of his improvement plan.  “I'm sorry to hear that, Jack.”  She sat forward, “You didn't just run into me for funsies, and I've got a pretty good memory of our last interaction.  We didn't part on great…or even good terms.  Why are you here?”

His impish smile became a snarl, “I've got a message for you.  From Patra.”  He seemed quite pleased with himself, and it pushed up against Walton in how she was used to getting pushed around by Jack Gregor.  She motioned for him to continue, and he did, “Supreme Commander Patra wants to meet you to discuss the terms of surrender of certain crew.  We have selected a neutral base.”  He slipped out a data chip and slid it across the table, “Location is inside.”

Walton pulled the chip closer to her, “He's aware I'll have to report this to my superiors in Fourth Fleet.”  She leaned back in her chair, “He also can't think I'm going to surrender members of my crew to him.”

Gregor's snarl became menacing, “You will when we start taking what is yours.  The Supreme Commander will have his justice.”  Wren didn't feel threatened by the singular presence of the idiot they'd sent to threaten her.  Given a few seconds, she'd drop him to the ground or signal the security officer down the way to come take out the trash.  The threat concerned her because it came from a Romulan together with a sociopathic woman with nothing to lose and everything to gain.  The alternative Carolyn Crawford's file was unsettling on a good day, never mind Patra's.

She replied, “I don't know what the future holds, Jack.  I'm genuinely concerned about yours, however.  Tractoring yourself to a guy like Patra seems like a terrible career move.”  She took the final sip of her tea and glanced at the security officer who suddenly stood next to Gregor, “You gave me the location, you gave me the message…and I don't think Patra cared anything about what happened after you did your duty.  I wish you had made the better choice.”

Gregor sputtered as the security officer clipped handcuffs over his trembling hands, “The hell?”  He attempted to break loose from the man's grasp but failed.  “This isn't over! I'll get you back for this, Walton!!”

Wren stood and muttered, “Get in line.”  She tapped her badge, “Walton to Fontana…I need to see you.  Priority.”