KotOR I: Orin Dakall

Due to her fatigue, the blood rushing to her head, or Bastila’s attempts at small talk, Orin had passed out long before they reached the apartment. But Carth wasn’t there to greet them.



Zaalbar laid her down on one of the beds, immediately turning on his heel and exiting again.



“Um...” Bastila began. Mission closed the door behind him.



“He’s just going to find Carth. Don’t worry.”



Bastila sat hesitantly into an arm chair, looking around. “Is this your apartment?”



“Here?” Mission flopped down on the other bed, swinging her feet in the air. “Nah, Zaalbar and I stay with the Beks usually.”



“But you don’t have a... permanent home?”



Mission cocked her head and smiled. “Sure I do. I have all of Taris.”



Bastila furrowed her brow suddenly, turning to look at Orin, who shuddered violently in her unconsciousness.



“Yeah, of everybody in our group, even Big Z, I think she’s the one to worry about not having a home. People with homes don’t act like she does.” Mission shrugged. “I mean, I like her. She’s just weird sometimes.”



“Mhm.”



-----



Oh god, not this cheap B movie again, Orin thought as she saw Bastila fighting a dark Jedi. But her mind picked up where it had left off before, and the dark Jedi soon fell to Bastila’s overconfident and amateurish swordplay. Other Jedi ran to join her, lightsabers at the ready.



“You cannot win, Revan!” she cried, pointing behind Orin.



She spun, and was met with a blinding flash from two red lightsabers spinning masterfully in the Dark Lord’s palms. She couldn’t really see him. Or her? Heavy black robes, boots, and gloves covered Revan’s skin, the hood drawn up, and a full Sith mask covered his face.



Definitely a him. Only a male could move with that much swagger and keep it from looking ridiculous.



He made it look effortless.



Something in Orin leapt hungrily as he lowered himself into his fighting stance.



Made it really sexy.



How the fuck did she beat him? Even with her happy thoughts and the other Jedi. He looks like he could get through them without breaking a sweat. And I bet that mask does something to block Bastila’s power of positive thinking mojo.



Her eyes widened as shots came from the ship behind them. The Sith ship behind them. The bridge shook violently, throwing everyone to the ground as the shots made impact.



Her heart leapt into her throat as Revan fell, a crack running down his mask. Bastila struggled to her hands and knees, staring at him.



Mmkay, that axe blow to the head did some damage after all. Why the hell am I dreaming about Bastila again? And why would the Sith take out their leader? And I get that I like power, possibly more than I should, but seriously? Naughty thoughts about a Sith Lord?



Well, I never met him. Maybe the tyrant attempting to destroy the Republic and rule over its remains was a nice guy. Misunderstood. Nothing but his pet Mynock to keep him company.



And just what is the difference between Jedi and Sith, really? Are they just finicky over different bits of dogma, or are the Sith 'evil', like the Jedi claim they are?



Maybe I wasn’t dreaming about Bastila. Maybe this was supposed to be a wicked sex dream and my subconscious hijacked her into it.



But then at least I’m still capable of having wicked sex dreams. They just have training wheels until I work my way back to normal from the...



Yeah. Training wheels in the form of a bunch of stuffy Jedi and a possibly dead, sexy guy. Great.



She stirred and slowly got herself up to sitting. She wasn’t in a ship any more. She was in the apartment.



“How kind of you to join us,” Bastila said imperiously.



Orin subtly flipped her off while cleaning the sleep gunk out of her eyes. She flicked it across the room, yawning hugely, then stared out the window.



“Is... is something wrong? You seem as if something is troubling you.”



Mission hopped off her bed and bent over Orin, squinting at her. “Naw, she’s fine. Sometimes she just gets all broody.”



Orin raised an eyebrow at her.



“Well?” she said, raising her hands. “You do.” She turned to Bastila. “You should’ve seen her when she was forced to kill Petey. It was horrible.”



The Jedi sat up straighter, if possible, and peered at Orin. “Who was Petey?”



“Her pet rancor.”



She did a double take. “Her what?”



Orin gave a wisp of a smile at her reaction, still staring out the window.



“Mission, could you go... check on your Wookiee friend, please?”



Mission raised an eyebrow, but left after Orin shrugged her indifference to Bastila’s request.



“What is it?” Bastila asked.



Orin turned reluctantly from the window. “It was just something weird that happened when I passed out. A dream or a vision or something.”



“A vision? A vision of what?”



“A hallucination, maybe.” The apartment door opened. “Forget it, it’s nothing,” she said quickly as Mission, Zaalbar, and Carth entered.



“Bastila, you’re alive!” Carth practically gushed as he saw her. Finally things are looking up!”



Orin’s eyes narrowed. Any moment the two would run to each other in slow motion, Carth sweeping Bastila up into the air and spinning her around.



“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked venomously.



Carth blinked at her. “That now we can focus on getting off the planet.”



She gave him an icy glare and stood so she could go pace by the window and be, well, broody.



Except she didn’t quite get the standing thing down.



She got up, but began shaking so badly that she had to sink down to the bed again.



Zaalbar moved to her before Carth could, leaving him to just look at her with concern.



“What’s going on? You’re really pale.”



“Yeah, I’d kinda like to know what the hell this is, too,” she growled, glaring at her still trembling appendages.



“You’re ill,” Zaalbar said. “You’ve not given your body time to recuperate from its injuries.”



“What did he--”



“He thinks I’m sick.”



The Wookiee put a paw to her forehead and Carth felt a stab of annoyance surge through him.