KotOR I: Orin Dakall

But saying she would proved easier than actually doing it.



Orin was too angry at Carth, and too expectant of him to attack her from behind, that she wasted another two repair parts before cramming the pile back in her pack. She froze as she heard unfamiliar, slow breathing. Then, with a glance over her shoulder, saw that Carth had fallen asleep, his head bent so far forward that it rested on his knee.



She walked to him, pulling the droid with one hand so it floated along with her, and nudged him with her foot. Nothing. She kicked him in the knee, aiming for the nerve cluster. He sat upright, his neck popping as he did.



“What?” he asked drowsily, rubbing his neck.



“Come on. We’re gonna find a place to sleep.”



Carth got up stiffly and Orin gestured for him to take the lead. The first door he came to, she quickly picked open, only to be rounded on by an angry Twi’lek.



“Hey, you can’t come in here! This is a private apartment!”



She stumbled back, confused, her own tiredness making her brain sluggish. “I, I’m sorry,” she said. “This place looked abandoned... What are you doing here?”



“None of your business,” he snapped. “Just turn around and go back the way you came, if you know what’s good for you.”



Carth was swaying on his feet in front of her, his head beginning to drop. That’s when she noticed the blood starting to ooze through the bandage on his neck. She focused on the red, becoming more alert. “Are you in some sort of trouble?” she asked, turning to the Twi’lek. “Do you... want to talk about it?”



He looked the two over. “You’ll probably find out on your own, anyway,” he said, sitting down on a tattered chair. “Zax is giving away his bounties like candy, I hear.” He gestured for them to sit, and both did so, gratefully. “My name’s Matrik. I used to work for the Exchange, but all the violence and killing started to get to me. I knew what I was doing was wrong, so I turned state’s evidence.”



His voice sounded familiar, but Orin couldn’t place it. Matrik? She didn’t know the name...



“My testimony helped put some of the biggest criminals on Taris away for life. But Davik didn’t like seeing his friends go down, so now he’s got a bounty on my head.”



He worked against Davik... but still, she couldn’t put it together. “Maybe there’s someway I could help you out,” she offered. Matrik shook his head.



“I don’t think there’s much anyone could do. And I’m getting sick of running.” He lifted his head, looking suddenly proud. “I’ve decided to make my stand right here.”



With a gasp, Orin threw herself back, stumbling over her chair. She grasped for her weapons, but her hands were slick with sweat. Carth came to life, obediently placing his hand on his holster, but looking confused. So did Matrik, until something in Orin’s hunched posture, in her shallow, gasping breaths, struck a chord.



“My god,” he said, looking horrified. That gave her enough strength to pull her sword.



“You don’t deserve to live.” Her voice shook, but she moved forward.



Carth stood and moved in front of her. “If he’s done what he’s said, he can’t go back to his old life. He’s made reparations for his crimes.”



“He didn’t to me,” she growled, and Carth stepped back, looking to the Twi’lek for confirmation.



Matrik looked up at her, pleadingly. “You were the last, I swear. I never took out a contract after... that. I couldn’t.”



This wasn’t what she wanted. None of them were supposed to feel guilt, remorse. They weren’t supposed to attempt at amends. She swayed, her mind and body overwhelmed by the day. Carth placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.



“Come on,” he said softly, “we’ll deal with him tomorrow.”



She didn’t want to leave, she had to stay and fight, but a hand removed the sword from hers, sheathing it, and led her out of the apartment.



“He’ll get away,” she argued feebly.



“I... I won’t leave,” Matrik said. He sounded determined. And scared. “I’ll be here.”



A few minutes or hours later, she fell forward on to a dilapidated mattress, Carth’s hands tugging at her boots. He got them off, then unbuckled the harness that held her swords and pistol, sliding it off her as gently as he could. “Sleep,” he told her. “I’ll make sure this place is secure.” She rolled into a ball on her side, and her eyes closed.



Carth straightened, pacing the perimeter of the abandoned apartment, checking for weaknesses and surveillance equipment. Couldn’t be sure in a dive like this. He stifled a yawn, then began fiddling with the old lock on the door, wishing he’d kept Orin awake long enough to seal it. Whatever she was, she could manipulate a lock like nothing he’d ever seen. Finally he pulled his blaster and melted the lock in place. He doubted they’d be here tomorrow night, and they could break through it in the morning. Right now he just needed sleep. And to think.



His eyes wandered to Orin and the only bed as he sat on the floor, pulling off his boots and vest. A smuggler. It made perfect sense. All the times she’d called him a soldier, it’d been as if she didn’t consider herself one as well. Explained the lock skills and smooth-talking too. Most smugglers weren’t so eager to fight though. Maybe that’s why she joined the Republic. I doubt it, Carth thought. She could pick a fight with a dewlap. He had a feeling she was holding back because of him, that more people would’ve been cut down if she hadn’t known he’d object. And the damn dueling ring. She’d be in a kolto tank by now if he hadn’t pulled her out when he did. Why was she so obsessed with fighting? Was it really just her dislike of Taris that made her so violent? Would she be normal once they found a way off?



Normal? he thought, laying his pistol at his side as he stretched out on the floor. I doubt anything could make her normal. She was so twitchy half the time, and the other half as cool as an Echani. And her persuasion tactics, the acts she put on whenever she wanted to get something from someone. He was never sure which was the real her, if he’d ever even seen the real her. There was no way to know whether how she acted around him wasn’t just another mask.



He just didn’t know if he could trust her. There were times he thought, maybe... But there were so many others when her choices and actions shocked him, or bewildered.



Doesn’t matter anyway. I won’t trust her even if I see a halo over her head. Hn. Especially then.



He shifted a bit, hoping the floor might somehow become more comfortable or his mind would stop whirring long enough for him to fall asleep. Neither did, but his eyelids became gradually heavier, and he began to relax, ignoring the trickle of blood dripping from the cut on his neck that had ripped open when he fell asleep in the hall.