KotOR I: Orin Dakall

The base door whooshed open, revealing two surprised guards. They opened fire and Orin, Carth, and Mission all dodged to cover.



“We really need to start knocking first,” Carth said. “This getting-shot-at-first thing is starting to annoy me.”



“I thought we had knocked,” Orin said. She peered around the door. “Hey! How did you not hear all the mines going off?” She ducked back as blaster shots flew by.



“Well, this is stupid,” she said, strapping on an energy shield. “They think they can take me down? Orin, slayer of rancors?” She turned it on, pulled out her swords, and dashed back into the corridor.



“Perfect,” Carth said. “Idiot-time.” He swung around the doorframe, firing on the guards. Mission followed suit.



“If you get hurt again,” he shouted, “I’m tossing you on Petey’s pile of corpses and leaving you.”



She was a bit preoccupied to respond.



Orin felled one guard, the other dropping from a blaster shot to the jugular.



“Down you go,” Carth said with a grim smile.



Mission checked the guards for any valuables as Orin tapped in the base’s inner door.



“Excuse me,” she said. “Anyone in there? You know, nearby, who’ll shoot at us if we come in?”



“She used to be so sweet and quiet,” Carth said with a sigh.



“When she was unconscious?” Mission asked.



“How did you know?”



“They’ve promised to let us shoot first,” Orin called over. “With the understanding that we also have to see them before they see us. I thought it seemed fair.” She opened the door and headed in, the others following.



She seems more... happy since we got into the sewers. Carth thought. Maybe it’s because we haven’t been fighting every five minutes. But, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because things are more straight-forward in here--if it moves, shoot it... Or maybe her brain’s swelling from that blow to the head.



“I don’t suppose you know how to repair things?” Orin was asking Mission, looking over a rusted patrol droid. She shook her head.



“Big Z’s pretty good, but he’s, you know... Not here.”



Orin studied the droid a moment longer, then shrugged and started pulling any functional bits off it. “Hopefully we won’t need it later.” As she said it, another patrol droid passed the doorway, turning as it saw them and shooting.



“Now, that’s allowed, because it saw us before we saw it,” Orin said as they shot and hacked it apart. The door across the hall from them opened, and they took down another two droids and a knife-wielding Vulkar. The smell of something edible hit the three, and their stomachs rumbled in unison.



“Wh- What’s going on?” asked a fearful voice. A young woman peered in from the adjacent room, shrieking when yet another droid began firing from behind her. The three sighed and started firing and hacking once more.



The droid exploded, shooting a shower of sparks onto Orin that she frantically patted down. Mission knelt by the woman huddled on the floor, her face in her hands, sobbing.



“Are you okay?”



“Please don’t hurt me!” she blurted out. “I just serve the food here, that’s all! I’m not like these others, I’m not even a Black Vulkar!” She clutched at Mission’s armor. “Please don’t kill me!” Mission stumbled back, wide-eyed.



“Don’t worry,” Orin said soothingly, kneeling next to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “We just want to ask you a few questions.”



“But I don’t know anything!” She shook her head urgently. “I’m just a prisoner here--a slave! The Vulkars don’t tell me anything, they treat me like dirt, they, they beat me if I screw up their orders!”



Orin lowered her head, fighting some internal battle.



Carth stepped forward. “You may know more than you think, miss. Help us and we’ll help you, okay?”



She nodded, biting her lip.



“Where can I find the prototype swoop engine accelerator?” Orin asked lowly.



“I... I’ve never heard of such a thing. I guess it might be in the garage on the lower level. That’s where all the Vulkars go to work on their swoop bikes.” She looked worried. “But I’ve never been down there. Only the Vulkars are allowed to.”



“What about a prisoner,” Carth asked. “A woman named Bastila.”



“The Republic soldier?” she said with bitterness. “She’s too important to be a slave here in the kitchens, getting pawed and groped and kicked and spit on like me. Brejik must have taken her somewhere safe.”



This Jedi sure is good at pissing people off, Carth thought.



Orin nodded. “If I let you go, can you find your way out of here?”



“I think so, now that you’ve killed the guards who were supposed to watch me.”



“Then go.”



“That, that’s it? You’re really not going to kill me? I, I don’t know how I can ever repay you. Thank you! Thank you!”



“Wait!” Mission said sternly. The woman froze at the door, terrified. “Where’s the food kept?”



A few minutes later they were seated at the bar, eating whatever random items they found in the kitchen’s walk-in refrigerators.



Mission chowed down on sugary junk food while Carth sliced into a mid-quality steak. Orin picked at the vegetables on her plate.



“That stuff will make you sick,” Carth said to Mission with a thinly veiled look of distaste.



“That’s why it’s called junk food,” she shot back with a smirk.



“At least... eat some fruit or something.” He turned to Orin, silently offering her part of the meat. She shrugged.



It is that, isn’t it? Carth thought as he put it on her plate. That thing about being in the sewers... As soon as we’re back with people in trouble, she’s different. She’s... mature and, well, responsible. More so than otherwise, at least.



He watched her. She didn’t seem to care. So, really, who she was with Petey is more the real her than who she is now... Or maybe she has spilt personalities, he thought with an internal groan. Maybe she’s just too much of a fucking enigma.