KotOR I: Orin Dakall

Author’s Note: As apology for not getting something up yesterday, I’m putting this up early. It’s also a bit longer than usual.



Thanks for reading!



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The track was loud. Deafening. Orin watched as a swoop bike hurtled down it at a sickening speed.



Someone was talking to her. She swallowed, eternally grateful that she hadn’t eaten since breaking into the Vulkar base, and nodded. She wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but one of the Bek mechanics was speaking and gesturing, and she assumed it had something to do with how to stay alive.



The race itself was a blur. No. Really more of a blackout. She strapped into the bike, then suddenly people were clapping her on the back and pulling her back out. And then it happened again, thanks to Redros, one of the Vulkar racers, beating her first time.



At the end of her heat this time, though, there were elated congratulations. Apparently her second score was unbeatable. Which she found a bit remarkable considering how much she was shaking.



The race announcer was talking to the crowd. They were cheering. He held Orin’s arm aloft in victory.



She just wanted to sit down. On something that didn’t contain an engine.



Then Brejik stood. “People! Hear me! Before I present this so-called champion of the Beks her prize, there is something you must know... She cheated!”



He wasn’t entirely wrong, but it didn’t feel right to admit that through her silence, so she yelled, “You’re a damn liar!”



He spat something back at her, sneering, but she was distracted by her legs going wobbly, and she grabbed hold of the thing nearest her.



Redros.



He shoved her from him, and she stumbled back, catching a railing before collapsing entirely. Something was happening. People were screaming and running and fighting.



Finally. Something I’m good at.



She whipped out her vibroblades, shook the black spots from her vision, steadied herself, and began hacking away. Her mind switched to auto-pilot, and she faded in and out of what was happening around her until Brejik nicked her face with his blade. Her eyes cleared, she snapped to attention, and she drove her own blade through his throat.



He fell, twitching. Her firm grasp kept her sword from falling as well. Instead it slid from him with a raspy squelch.



Must’ve scraped the spinal cord.



She was pretty sure she’d killed everyone who didn’t run. But she was also pretty sure she heard someone talking.



“Well, maybe those bloody Vulkars will think twice next time before trying to keep a Jedi prisoner!”



Oh yeah. Bastila.



“And as for you--” Orin stiffened. “--if you think you can collect me as a prize...” A shorter brunette appeared in front of her, eyes ablaze with righteous indignation. Which extinguished about as quickly as an actual blaze would in a vacuum.



“Wait... I don’t believe this! You’re... you’re one of the soldiers with the Republic fleet, aren’t you?”



“From what I’ve been told,” Orin said icily, “You’re the one who made sure I was on the Endar Spire. It’d be a little insulting if you’d forgotten me already.”



“I, well...”



“My name’s Orin Dakall. Pleasure to meet you as well.”



She cleared her throat. “Bastila Shan,” she said disdainfully, “though you obviously already know.”



“Funny,” Orin said, feeling the cut just above her jaw line, “I figured the Jedi would be sticklers for manners and tact.”



The brunette’s eyes narrowed, and while she tried to take pleasure in that, Orin was getting light-headed again and half-fell, half-stumbled to the ground, trying to make it look like maybe she was just remarkably uncoordinated when it came to sitting.



Bastila crossed her arms and looked down at her. “How did you end up racing for these swoop gangs?”



“I did it to save you,” she said snidely.



“Save me? As far as rescues go, this is a pretty poor example. In case you hadn’t noticed, I managed to free myself from that neural restraint collar--”



“I hadn’t noticed, and I appreciate the update.” Just because I’m woozy and sitting down doesn’t mean you’re fucking better than me you little pissant.



“Brejik and his Vulkars would have left you for dead if I hadn’t stepped into that fight. You’re lucky I was here to get you out of this mess! In fact, it’s more accurate to say that I saved you!”



“How many of them did you kill?”



Bastila hesitated.



“No, seriously, my head’s... a little funny right now, and I can’t remember how many I killed, and I have no idea how many you--”



“I wore Brejik down for you.”



Orin stared up at her for a long minute. “...That’s it? Were you at least thinking happy thoughts for me?”



“Is that what you think Battle Meditation is?” she asked heatedly. “And of course I wasn’t; I thought you wanted me as a slave!”



Orin made a concerted effort not to laugh. But then again, her head was acting weird, and really, who could blame her for a few malicious chortles?



“So you ‘saved’ me by supposedly wearing down one man and removing a headband that was only set at a level high enough to restrain a non-Force using person. And why didn’t you free yourself earlier?” She rolled her head to the side and gave the Jedi an infuriating smile. “Face it, Bass, you were a helpless prisoner until I came along.”



She could hear her grind her teeth. “I may have been a prisoner, but a Jedi is never helpless. Maybe you’ve heard of a little thing called ‘the Force’?”



“Oooooo, what’s that? Is it shiny?”



Bastila closed her eyes, breathing deeply and calming herself. Cheater.



“I suppose I shouldn’t be too hard on you,” she said, reopening her eyes. “You did try to save me after all, even if it didn’t go quite as planned. So let’s get down to business--we’re not out of danger yet. If I’m going to figure out a way for us to get off this planet, I need to know what kind of resources we can draw on.”



She looked down at Orin. Orin looked back up at her.



“Well? Take me to your base.”



Orin looked down. She wasn’t sure she could stand without fainting. So when her peripheral vision caught a Twi’lek and a Wookiee moving toward her, she was actually relieved.



“Are you okay?” Mission skidded to a halt in front of her. “Gadon wouldn’t let us come down during the fight, but then when Brejik, when you... Well, we’re here. Are you okay?”



Zaalbar reached down, helping Orin to her feet and allowing her to lean heavily on his arm.



“I’m good, Mish. And thanks Zaalbar. Let’s just get back to the apartment.”



Mission nodded. “When I brought him his breakfast, Carth said he’d just meet us back there. He didn’t want to watch, I guess.”



“Carth?” Bastila said suddenly. “Carth Onasi? He’s alive? Finally some good news!” All three looked over at her, then Mission and Zaalbar turned to Orin.



“Apparently me being alive was bad news. That’s Bastila.”



“Are you sure?” Mission asked, peering at her. “She doesn’t really look like the only thing keeping the Republic from crushing defeat...”



Bastila opened her mouth, but Orin interjected first.



“Because she’s not. The men and women out there fighting as we speak--they’re the ones saving the Republic.”



“And Carth is one of the Republic’s best soldiers,” Bastila said with creepy fanaticism. “He’s proved himself a hero a dozen times over!” She looked over at Orin, who was glancing at the ground uncertainly. “...And he sent you here to save me?”



“Life’s a bitch, innit?” Orin took a hesitant step. The world spun and her legs buckled. Zaalbar picked her up mid-protest, and laid her across his shoulder. “Well, this is only a little humiliating,” she drolled, trying to avoid getting a mouthful of fur.



“Let’s go,” Zaalbar said, moving out.



Orin waved her arms in protest. “Mission, grab anything useful off the bodies first!”



Bastila followed the Wookiee as Mission began looting corpses. “Maybe... I misjudged you,” she said, trying to make eye contact with the back of Orin’s head.



She raised herself up, propping an arm against Zaalbar’s back for support, listening.



“Carth wouldn’t have sent you if he wasn’t confident in your... abilities,” she continued. “Forgive me. Despite my training, I still tend to act a bit rashly.”



Orin rolled her eyes and went back to dangling in a forest of Wookiee fur.



“Between the three of us, I’m sure we can figure out someway to get off this planet before the Sith realize we’re here,” Bastila offered, in reconciliation.



“Newsflash, Jedlet,” Orin said, slightly muffled. “I could’ve gotten off this planet ages ago if I hadn’t had to rescue you. And the Sith already know we’re here. They aren’t idiots. They just have to track us down.”