Checking in on "Him"

The Dinaqa sped along through the stars.  Destination: The Bartok system.  Estimated arrival time: At current speed (warp 8.5), ten hours... give or take.  Despite the fact that they were technically going home, the ship remained at yellow alert.

Ti Klec Cerina Ringo had been right... again.  The Federation was conspiring against them.  But too many questions remained.  Why?  Who else was being targeted?  What was the purpose behind the conspiracy?  Was the Federation preparing to go to war with the Bartokians?  Hopefully, the "political guest" could answer some of those questions.

"Political guest."  That or "him".  It seemed to be the popular colloquialism for the defected Starfleet officer.  Korishma Korrine Blail considered that as she strode down the corridor.

Korrine was young, like the majority of the Dinaqa crew.  She had graduated from the same Loczni class as Ti Klec Ringo.  Despite an offer for her own ship, Korrine had stayed with her long-time friend.  Loyalty was a strong characteristic to Korrine.  She placed a great deal of faith in it.  Korrine was an attractive woman.  She had been told as much by many people.  Her dark brown hair was just to her shoulders; her brown eyes focused on the path before her.  While she struck many as petite, she was an incredibly gifted athlete.  Her father had been an instructor with the Sacin Cetorie, the Bartokian special forces.  His specialty was hand-to-hand combat, a lost art to some.  But he had taught everything he knew to his only daughter.  And she had learned his lessons well.  Security Chief Varitic was one of the only members of the crew who could spar with her, and even he barely held his own.

She located Chief Varitic.  He was coming from the direction of her next stop - the quarters assigned to "him".

"Chief Varitic."

"Korishma Blail."  Varitic was not known as a man of many words.  But what he said usually spoke volumes.

"How is the... guest?"

Varitic shook his head.  "In bad shape.  If he doesn't get medical attention soon... I doubt if he'll make it back to Bartok."

"Are you sure?"  Korrine shook her head as soon as she asked it.  Varitic had seen his share of injuries in his days.  He may not have had any medical background, but he was a good judge of injured men.  "My apologies, Chief.  I didn't mean to question your judgment."

He shook his head.  "No offense taken, ma'am.  And pardon me for saying so... but he's a fool if he refuses any treatment."

"Maybe he doesn't like doctors."

"I don't think he likes us, ma'am."  Varitic pondered that a moment.  "So... why would he ask us for asylum?  It makes no sense... asking your enemy to shelter you."

"Perhaps he considers us the lesser of two evils."  It was entirely possible that this man was a separatist.  It would go a long way towards explaining his behavior.  She couldn't know for certain.  Not yet, anyway.  "I'm going to speak to him."

"Do you wish me to join you?"

Korrine smiled.  "I can handle you in a straight-up fight, Chief.  If he is on the doorstep to his ancestors, I hardly think he'll present a problem."  She patted Varitic's shoulder.  "But I appreciate the thought, Chief."

Varitic nodded.  He rarely smiled, but Korrine knew what he was thinking.  "Very well.  I'll be in security if you need me."

Korrine pressed the door buzzer to the room where "he" had been assigned.  When no one answered, she slowly walked inside.  "He" was sitting against the wall.  And "he" looked miserable.  Varitic had not been exaggerating.