KotOR I: Orin Dakall

They found a few bodies the others hadn’t stripped, deep in a pack of rakghouls, saved a Republic soldier, who got himself killed by rakghouls, then entered the sewers.



Where there were more rakghouls.



“You sure this isn’t a government-inflicted disease to combat overpopulation?” Orin asked through gritted teeth as she gutted another of the stupid, shiny, green-blooded things.



“Wouldn’t put it past them,” Carth grunted back. Mission said nothing and Orin felt an irritating stab of guilt.



“I was kidding, Mish.”



“Yeah, I know,” she said, not wholly believably.



Orin sighed. “Let’s go. I’m sure there’re more of these fucking things around, craving our entrails to munch on.”



But the next door revealed Gamorreans. Three brutish, piggish thugs. And another, towering above the others, standing a foot from Orin. Each group stared at the other for a moment.



“I’m guessing you’re the one in charge,” Orin said to the hulking beast in front of her.



They all moved in unison. The Gamorreans pulled giant battle axes from their belts. Orin whipped her vibroblades from her back in time to block the Chieftain’s attack. The vibrations shook down the blades and through her body, making her head and teeth ache.



“Tell you what,” she said, dodging his next swing, “You don’t do that anymore, and I won’t mock your bold choice of wearing bikini briefs to work.” She heard a squeal of pain, and in her peripheral vision, saw one of the lackeys go down.



“Where’s Zaalbar?!” Mission was screaming over her blaster fire. “What did you do to him?!” Another squeal.



This dancing and dodging was getting old. Orin sidestepped another of the chief’s swings, slashing at him, and he leapt back in time. She took a quick glance over her shoulder.



“You’re more likely to get answers if he’s alive,” she shouted to Mission with a grin. A third squeal. “Oh well.”



“Orin!!”



Since when does Carth call me--



Crack.



The chief snorted in satisfaction as Orin’s eyes rolled up in her head, blood trickling into one from the gash where the flat of his axe had struck her head. She was upright for a moment before her legs relaxed and she toppled backwards.



Carth dropped his guns, sliding forward to catch her, cradling her head from further damage. “Mission!”



“On it!” She took a sniper shot at the Chief, who dodged, but not fast enough. Blood sprayed from a charred hole near his liver. Another shot. He fell, his kneecap dangling by its ligaments.



Gingerly lowering her head into his lap, Carth wiped the blood from gash, trying to clear it so he could get pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.



The blood just kept coming.



“Damn it,” he growled, pressing his arm over the wound, his sleeve soaking up the fresh blood. “Hey,” he called to Mission, “Can you grab some bandages and medpacs?”



“One sec,” came her reply before her blaster fired again.



Rummaging.



“Here.”



A med kit was brusquely shoved at him.



“You got this covered?”



She was gone before he could answer.



Carth ripped a bandage in half with his teeth, keeping his arm in place. “You’re an idiot,” he told the unconscious woman as he balled up the bandage half and substituted it for his sleeve on her head. Her hair had streaks of red now. “And you look ridiculous.”



He felt the skin near the gash. It had already swollen into a nasty goose egg. “Red isn’t your color at all,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead only to smear blood on it instead. “And really, banter during a fight?” He shook his head. “Idiot.”



He lifted the bandage. The bleeding had slowed enough that he could wash out the wound with kolto.



“Ungh...”



“Serves you right,” he said to the stirring Orin.



“What happened?”



“You were outsmarted by a Gamorrean.”



“...Seriously?”



“And you didn’t get any kills in the fight.”



Orin propped herself up on her elbows. “What?”



“Mission got two.”



She let her head fall back on Carth’s lap, wincing on impact. “Maybe we should vote her group leader.”



Carth raised an eyebrow. “I killed two too. And who voted you leader?”



She weakly waved a dismissive hand. “You were in absentia for the voting process. Where’s the bundle of blue?”



“Ran off. ‘Cause apparently what our little group needs is another idiot.”



Orin rubbed crusted blood off her eyelid. She took a breath, and Carth looked down at her.



“What’s on your mind?”



“Other than the throbbing lump? I just... I want to talk with you.”



“Oh,” Carth said, with a nod of recognition, “You want to argue some more, is that it?”



Not really. She attempted a shrug. “Always up for a good fight.”



“No kidding,” he said drolly. His smirk betrayed him by letting out a slight chuckle as he shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve met a woman quite like you before. You’re... you’re really something.”



“I’m trying to get a copyright.”



He realized his fingers were in her hair, and quickly removed them. “I just don’t trust easily, and for good reasons... which are my own.” Why can’t I tell her? I could... no. No. I barely know her, and what I do know is too contradictory. I can’t.



“I can make you talk, Carth. Trust me.” Orin made a pass at an evil grin, half wincing as the movement shot pain through her skull.



He looked at her more with amused pity than fear. “Heh, I might be willing to take you up on that challenge...” Oh god, how long has it been? And good, bad, or insane, there’s nothing wrong with her looks. She’s actually made me laugh. More than once. ...Maybe if I tell her a little, she’ll stop with the questions. I’m, I’m not sure I’m ready to dig all that up. That I’ll ever be.