KotOR I: Orin Dakall

Author's Note: There's a possibility my story may go on a brief hiatus in the near-ish future. My main computer finally died last night, and I've had to switch over to a laptop. Which doesn't have the guts to run the game. I have the dialogue saved up through the rest of their time on Taris, so hopefully I'll have time to get some funds together and get myself a shiny new iMac before I run out of material. I just wanted to let you know ahead of time, in case.



Sorry for this being late--I spent most of last night after working a double trying to get the old behemoth up and running. To personify my computer, it gave a wheeze, said "are you fucking kidding?" and death-rattled itself from existence. I may give it a wake.



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“That hardly strikes me as an appropriate way of addressing your commander, Carth. I am a member of the Jedi Order and this is my mission. Don’t forget that!”



“How could we?” Carth drolled before Orin had the opportunity to say it herself.



Bastila’s eyes narrowed. “My Battle Meditation ability has helped the Republic many times in this war, and it will serve us well here, I am sure,” she said petulantly.



“What, you’re going to think us a ship? Your talents might win us a few battles, but that doesn’t make you a good leader! A good leader would at least listen to the advice of those who have seen more combat that she ever will!”



Bastila looked stunned by his outburst. Orin was a little too. It didn’t even occur to her to call him testy or remind him to call Bastila ‘missy’.



“He’s right,” she said lowly, irritated that she agreed with him, but not enough to side with Bastila. “You aren’t showing much in the way of leadership ability.”



Carth stalked the foot of Orin’s bed, eyeing the Jedi. “You know, I had my doubts about this mission, but I figured the Jedi Council wouldn’t put you in charge if you weren’t prepared. But here you are, acting like a spoiled child!”



“I see...” Bastila said with surprising calm.



Orin peered over her dumpling at her. How come that’s all the reaction she has? I’d be at his throat by now. She bit into the dumpling, slurping up the broth inside before it could dribble down her chin. Need to get me some Jedi chill powers.



“It’s true that I don’t have much military experience,” she continued. “Perhaps I should not be so quick to judge.” She squared her shoulders. “Very well, Carth. What do you suggest we do?”



“Wait, him?” Orin said, nearly choking on her soup. “I’ve had more combat experience than the two of you combined!”



Carth looked at her, confused. “You... you were in the wars? I thought you were on Nar Shaddaa.”



Bastila was staring at her with eerie focus.



“I, I was. I just--” She shook her head. “I meant, battlefield experience isn’t going to mean much here. In this situation. We have to move below the radars. Incognito. We can’t just storm a hangar and steal a ship. And I have, and have used many times, the abilities we’ll need.”



Carth looked... blank. Bastila turned back to him.



“Carth?”



“First off,” he said slowly, looking away from Orin, “we can’t get hung up on who’s in charge. We all need to work together if we want to get off this rock.” He scratched his jaw. “The answer’s out there, we just have to find it.”



Bastila nodded. “Well said. And the sooner we start looking the better. I’ve already been a prisoner of the Vulkars and I don’t plan on being captured by the Sith.”



“Even if you were, we’d rescue you again,” Orin said. The jibe fell flat, Bastila ignoring it and Carth looking like he hadn’t heard her speak. Mission gave a small smile from the other corner of the room, but was quickly drawn back to her pazaak game by a growl from Zaalbar.



“Fine,” she said, putting her food aside, vegetables untouched, and standing. “Let’s go find a way off this planet.”



She was met with Carth’s palm, colliding sharply with her sternum and sending her flying back onto the bed. With a lazy hand gesture, Bastila swept the spilled vegetables back into their container.



“You are staying here,” he said flatly, “and eating your vegetables and going to sleep.”



“I think we’ll need some help getting off Taris,” Bastila said to Carth. “Maybe if we ask around, one of the locals can help us out. We should probably start by asking around in the cantinas.”



“Okay, first off,” Orin growled at Carth, rubbing her ribcage and wheezing slightly, “What the fuck? And second,” she turned to Bastila, “Duh. Unless one of us is capable of interplanetary travel and taking on several passengers, we’re gonna be greasing someone’s palm along the way. And only an idiot would check someplace other than the cantinas. They’re brimming with discontented merchants and travelers, all itching to get the hell out of here.”



Carth leveled her with his steady stare. “Eat. The fucking. Vegetables.” He picked up his dropped pack and pulled it on. “Make sure she does, and goes to sleep,” he said to Mission. Bastila followed him, exiting the apartment.



An awkward silence stretched as Orin glared at the door. Mission hesitantly got to her feet, looking like she very much didn’t want to be in this position. “Um... eat up?” she said with a small please-don’t-hurt-me smile.



Orin transferred her glare to the Twi’lek, and slowly got up. She tested her legs a moment before releasing the bed and straightening. She was steady. The wonders of fuel.



She turned to grab her things, only to collide with a giant wall of fur. Again, she sprawled back on the bed.



“Why do people keep doing that?” she whined.



“Eat,” Zaalbar said, not moving from the bedside.



Can’t take on a Wookiee unarmed, Orin thought. And the smug son of a bitch knows it.



She picked up the vegetables and slowly began eating, watching Zaalbar. He nodded, but still didn’t move.



“So, um,” Mission started, “Because of all the stuff going on, I didn’t really get to say what all happened. With the errands you gave me, I mean.”



“Hit me,” Orin said. Then her eyes narrowed. “Just not literally.”



“Okay, so first I went to the Undercity to give those folks the serum. Boy, were they glad to see me. Then I gave those holocrons to Rukil, and... they left.”



“The holocrons?” Orin asked through a mouthful.



“Um, everybody in the Undercity.”



“...Why?”



“Rukil said those holocrons you found were... like puzzle pieces or something, and showed the way to some hidden city or... something. So they left.”



“Everyone?”



“Everyone.”



“I guess no one has to worry about being shaken down outside the elevator anymore,” Orin offered lamely. She felt more concern than she wanted to. “Hopefully Crazy Old Man is right, and isn’t just leading them nowhere with minimal supplies.”