KotOR I: Orin Dakall

“Is that it?” he mocked. “You can do better than that!”



“Lobotomized Gamorrean!” she snarled, whipping around to the droid.



“Ouch,” he said, then laughed slightly. “That is better. Well, I bet ‘beautiful’ doesn’t sound so bad in comparison now, does it?”



She gave half a chuckle before glaring at his reflection. “You are such a pain, you know that?”



He walked around her and the droid to face her, leaning again on the wall. “Guilty as charged.” His smile faded. “Are the questions really necessary?”



“Don’t be such a child,” she said, beginning to make progress with the droid, “It’s just a few questions.”



The smile returned. “Oh no, how can I resist a challenge to my manly pride, huh?” He laughed, but it was sharper than before. “Fine, you made your point. Interrogate at will.”



Orin frowned at the droid’s console. “Are you getting testy again?”



“I don’t get testy,” he said, his voice becoming heated. “I get angry.” He pushed the droid aside and it bobbed into the middle of the hall, leaving the space between them clear. “And if I was angry, you wouldn’t have to ask me if I was, let me assure you.”



He stepped closer, closing the gap between them and Orin quickly backed up, reopening it. His eyes and voice had lost all humor, and a darkness shone through them that frightened her. He was right. She didn’t have to ask.



“Let me ask you something first, though,” he said, steadily herding her backwards. “I’ve been going through the battle aboard the Endar Spire over and over in my head since we crashed.” She felt her back hit wall, and still he moved closer. “Some things just don’t add up for me. Maybe you could tell me what happened...” he leaned his hands on the wall on either side of her head, “from your perspective.”



The fear was starting to bubble inside her now. He was too close, too close. She could feel his breath hitting her neck, and she turned her head, shutting her eyes. “I wasn’t in a position to know what was going on, really.”



She could hear his grim smile. “Neither was I, to tell the truth. I was onboard as an advisor for the most part. The battle began so fast, it’s anyone’s guess as to what actually happened.”



He sounded more like himself, and she opened her eyes. But as soon as they met his, he seemed to go dark again. “We lost the ship and a lot of good people,” he growled, “and for what? On the hope that Jedi powers would save us somehow.”



He stared at the space above her head, musing out loud. “Not that Bastila had much of an opportunity to act.” He said that name with such venom that Orin realized maybe she hadn’t been so transparent earlier; maybe Carth was just as angry, moreso, actually, that the Republic’s best pilot ranked lower than some snot-nosed Jedi.



“We didn’t choose that battle, anyway,” he said. “It got forced on us. Hell, I’m just surprised that any of us are alive to talk about it. Come to think of it...” He looked down at her, eyes piercing, and she knew full well that he had not just ‘come to think of’ whatever he was about to say. “It’s more than a little surprising that you happen to be here, isn’t it? Just what is your position with the Republic fleet, anyway?”



Orin told her body to straighten and move forward, forcing Carth back, but she realized she was actually shrinking closer to the wall, trying to fade into it. “I used to be a smuggler, if you must know.” She managed to lift her chin in an attempt at pride and defiance. “I was recruited into the fleet for my knowledge.”



“A smuggler?” Carth asked, contempt dripping from his voice, “I should have guessed.” Indignance flared in Orin’s chest, but it was dampened by his intensified glare. “Isn’t it odd that a smuggler who was added to the crew at the last minute just happens to be alive?” The accusation in his tone was clear.



“Are you implying that I had something to do with the crash?” At last her body was doing what she told it. She stood tall, glaring at Carth, and stepped forward. He moved back, his hands moving from the wall to in front of him, defensive.



“No,” he said quickly, then stopped. “Well... maybe.” He stepped forward again, and both stood firm. “Don’t get me wrong--” Orin snorted derisively and Carth narrowed his eyes. “--it just seems odd that someone Bastila’s party specifically requested to transfer aboard happened to survive.”



Orin pushed past him on her way to the droid, shoving him aside with her shoulder. “It doesn’t make any difference,” she said scathingly. “Go ahead and be paranoid.” She picked up a dropped repair part, trying to remember what she’d been doing before.



“I’m not trying to be paranoid,” Carth said, his voice suddenly pleading. It disappeared just as quickly. “It’s just that I learned a long time ago that something which looks like a coincidence probably isn’t. Especially when the Jedi are involved.” She could hear him move, but it wasn’t closer to her, it was further away. She checked his reflection in the droid. His back slid down the wall to a sitting position, his eyes staring at the floor.



“The Jedi requested numerous things when they came on board... hell, they practically took over the ship, as far as I could tell.” He looked up at her. She didn’t turn.



“Considering your connection to Bastila and the Jedi... whether you know it or not... your presence here seems a little convenient.”



“What connection?” she demanded, turning with spanner in hand. “I’ve not met the kid, or any other Jedi! I just went where I was ordered; no one told me who gave it!”



Carth held up a hand. “I’m probably wrong and this is probably nothing, I know. However... I learned a long time ago not to take things at face value. And I hate surprises.”



Orin stared at him, trying to figure out what the hell that meant. “What?”



“I mean... I have to expect the unexpected. Just to be safe.”



She stiffened, and her hand tightened on the spanner. “Try something,” she said lowly, “and it’ll be the last mistake you make.”



“Look, it has nothing to do with you personally... I don’t trust anyone, and I have my reasons. And no,” he said, before she could tell him she didn’t give a rat’s ass about him or his reasons, “I’m not going to discuss them. So can we just keep our mind on more important things?”



“Yes,” Orin replied coldly, “let’s do that.”



“Good.”