The promenade bustled with activity as civilians and officers alike came to dine, to imbibe and to enjoy. How little they knew, thought the old man, sitting alone, as he watched them pass. Soon, fear would take hold. Soon, this place would be deserted. And soon, many would die. It was inevitable. There was nothing they could do to stop it.

Slowly, he lifted his glass, savoring a sip of the fine Aldebaran whisky he’d treated himself to on the eve of the impending apocalypse. As the rich tones and satisfying notes danced across his palette, he glanced out the wide sweeping window to his side. Lingering in the distance lay the massive spaceframe of USS Polaris, sparkling in the starlight. Things wouldn’t be sparkling for long. He wondered how Jake Lewis and Allison Reyes would react, unaware due to his recent travels that neither was aboard, the captain lost to the Underspace and the admiral enroute to Duraxis.

Soft footsteps approached. He heard them, but he didn’t bother to turn. Why would he? He was just a nobody, a drifter enjoying a drink at a nondescript bar on what had, until recently, been a forgotten backwater.

“Fred Kingsley,” came a voice as its speaker cast a long shadow over the table. “Is that really the name you go by these days? Or was it just on our behalf?”

He turned to see a man no younger than him, dressed in civilian attire as unassuming as his own. But the man was no more a civilian than he was. The only difference between them was the master they served. “Kurayami Kioshi,” he nodded in recognition. This snake, the current director of intelligence services for Archanis Station, was not unknown to him. “A proud Starfleet captain these days, I hear?”

“As far as you ever got, Frank,” Captain Kioshi countered as he took a seat across from the old man he knew to be, most certainly, not an individual by the name of Fred Kingsley. “I presume you know it’s a crime to enter a Starfleet facility under a falsified identity?” Not that such forgery even ranked on the long list of crimes Frank Negrescu had committed over his unfortunately long life.

“Oh please,” chuckled Frank Negrescu, unphased by the insinuation. It wasn’t as if the Starfleet captain would actually do anything about it, and even if he did, what did he care about a petty misdemeanor? Things would play out the same regardless of what happened here. “Let’s not pretend you’re so ignorant as to believe that even half of these people are who they say they are.” An outpost on the Federation’s rugged frontier, Archanis Station might look like a shining beacon of the Starfleet’s greatness, but it was pure naivete to assume its clientele came simply to shop on its promenade or barter at its marketplace.

“Why are you here, Frank?” Captain Kioshi asked flatly. He knew exactly who the monster was and what he could do, and he had half a mind to just throw him out an airlock now and save them all the trouble. Rear Admiral Grayson and the others might not like it, but they’d probably thank him later.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by to check out the new digs,” Negrescu replied without batting an eye. “Beats the dump that used to be here, and certainly sends a signal to those in the region.” That signal and what it stood for was also what had made it a target.

“The ship that you arrived on came from Acamar,” Captain Kioshi noted. He’d done his research, and, as he’d confirmed when Negrescu flagged, the inbound freighter made no recorded stops along the way. Negrescu had deliberately traveled weeks to get here. “That’s not in the area.”

“The galaxy is quite large, my friend,” Negrescu smiled, enjoying the back and forth. It had been a long time since he’d sat across the table from someone like Kurayami Kioshi. “Relative to that, even Talvath is in the neighborhood.”

“Cut the bullshit, Frank,” Captain Kioshi interrupted. He was uninterested in the banter, and his expression said as much. “You’re here for a reason.” Someone like Negrescu never did anything without purpose, and he knew that it was likely the only reason they were even having this conversation was because Negrescu had allowed it to happen. “Why?”

“Why so hostile, Kurayami?” Negrescu laughed, ignoring the question.

“Because I don’t like you, and I don’t like how you work,” Captain Kioshi answered as his eyes narrowed on Negrescu. While they were both forged by the same organization in the same era, that’s where their similarities ended. Kurayami Kioshi believed intelligence was a delicate art of quiet observation and manipulation, while Frank Negrescu preferred and revelled in the wet work. “You’re a blunt force object, too loud and too messy, and wherever you go, death follows.”

“Does death follow me or do I follow it?” Negrescu raised his brow.

Captain Kioshi just stared at him.

“Besides, what if I were to tell you that I’m a changed man?” Negrescu flashed a devious smile that fooled no one. “That I softened with old age?”

“I’d tell you that you’re a liar,” Captain Kioshi replied flatly. A man like Frank Negrescu didn’t change.

“Well, unless you’re going to arrest me for petty forgery, I’d like to get back to enjoying my drink,” Negrescu said as he lifted his drink back to his lips, no longer interested in continuing the conversation. “Alone.”

There was nothing more he would accomplish, Captain Kioshi knew. Not now, at least. “I’ll be watching,” he warned, and then he stood and departed. Would he tell Rear Admiral Grayson who was on his station? No, not for now. To do so would be to acknowledge things better left unacknowledged.

“Too bad you haven’t been watching closely enough, old man,” Negrescu muttered once Kioshi was out of earshot. He had no idea what was coming. None of them did.