KotOR I: Orin Dakall

“Well, he managed to convince the skeptics, so...” Mission shrugged.



“After that?” Orin asked, picking through her remaining vegetables. The yellow-ish, squashy type things weren’t so bad.



“Well, I didn’t want to get caught with all the serum, and someone like me’s gonna get stopped pretty fast up here, so I dropped off the rest at Zelka’s place. That assistant said some nasty things to me afterwards though.”



“Did you hit him?”



Mission blinked. “No... I left.”



“Fair enough.” She yawned, then looked in bleary distaste at the greenery still to be eaten. Mission, in a sign of unexpected intuition, cleared her throat.



“I’m pretty sure he wants you to eat all of them.”



Orin huffed. “Don’t wanna.”



“Is it really worth pissing him off even more?”



Orin looked up at her, peeved. “You’re really annoying when you’re smart.”



Mission beamed and sat down cross-legged on the end of the bed. “Chow down, missy. Your gastric pleasure awaits!”



Orin couldn’t help a snort, and returned to picking at the vegetables.



“Why was he so mad, anyway? It’s not like you were trying to get sick.”



“The mystery that is whatever-his-station-is Onasi.”



Mission had a point though. A very good one. But Orin’s body was now demanding sleep, and her mind couldn’t hold on to the train of thought.



“Anyway, after that I came here and checked on Big Z. And obviously he’s doing okay now. Just needed rest and food and some bandages. And kolto. And a bit of cleaning up.”



“Dia?” Orin asked, fighting to keep her head from falling against her chest.



“Yeah, I went to her next. I might not mind this errand-runner gig if I keep getting to tell people good news and stuff.”



“Credits?”



“Naw.”



Orin’s head bobbed back up and she attempted to give Mission an angry look. She was pretty sure it failed, but the Twi’lek still caught the hint.



“She didn’t have any. So she gave me this doohickey thingy to use as an upgrade on a sword. It’s sort of an antique, but it’s better than nothing, right?”



Orin’s head was on her shoulder, mouth agape, and fast asleep. Zaalbar came over, and as Mission took her shoulders, he pulled her down, stretching her out on the bed. Mission fixed the pillow beneath her and pulled off her boots.



And Orin continued to sleep. Dark, restorative sleep, with no dreams whatsoever.



-----



Carth was regretting Bastila coming along. In fact, he was wishing he’d said yes to Orin, back when she’d first offered to find the two of them a way off-planet without the Jedi. By now, she’d be off doing whatever she did, and he’d be... Sitting alone in his quarters. Waiting for his next mission. Brooding on his wrongs and daydreaming on his revenge.



How have I lived like that for so long? he thought. Before he could fathom an answer, another potential ally was stomping away. He sighed.



Bastila just didn’t have any subtlety. And not in Orin’s fashion of appealing to a person’s basest needs. Bastila practically shouted that they were Republic officers looking for a way off the planet. Then she followed up with probing questions and insinuations about the trustworthiness of whosever attention she’d grabbed.



At least Dakall would... No. I’m not going to bother comparing the two, because right now I’m pissed at them both. They can rot on this planet or kill each other, for all I care. Duty be damned, no one could tolerate either one of the two for any span of time. Not without being stark-raving mad. Someone better be putting me in for a commendation at this very second. Hell, I should get a galactic holiday.



They, or she, more accurately, had cleared the cantina. Even the wait staff and dancers avoided them.



“It’s getting late,” Carth said wearily. “Let’s just head back for now. Tomorrow we can try Javyar’s in Lower City.”



“If that’s what you think is best,” Bastila said distantly.



That’s pretty much all she’d said to him since his little outburst earlier. Jedi supposedly didn’t get mad, so, in theory, she wasn’t angry with him. Maybe she was just naturally cold.



I don’t even care. Let her be mad, if she is. I didn’t say anything that shouldn’t’ve been said. Maybe it could’ve been more tactful, but still. Don’t care.



He hunched his shoulders into the wind as they exited the cantina. I can’t believe Dakall. I can’t believe she said that. Like I didn’t matter at all. Like I was useless.



His mind kept cycling back to those same thoughts, over and over. He shook his head, forcing himself to go through the events since they’d crash-landed. What had he done? What had he contributed?



He’d been stern and disapproving, he’d given lectures, he’d pulled her from the dueling ring, he’d... comforted her in her nightmares. She was the one taking action. He just reacted to her.



And then today, when he’d skipped the race, finally doing something on his own, it had been for her benefit. Not to get Bastila back, or get them off Taris. It had been solely for her. He was useless.



“Is something wrong?” Bastila asked.



“No,” he said bluntly. “Let’s just hurry up and get to the apartment.” He increased his pace, and Bastila followed in turn.



The door whooshed open on to Mission and Zaalbar, back to playing pazaak. Mission was yawning widely though, and didn’t seem terribly interested in the game. Orin slept heavily on the bed opposite the entrance, looking closer to dead than childlike or peaceful.



“We have a lot to accomplish tomorrow,” Bastila said with her assumed authority. “Let’s all get to bed now, so we can have an early start.”



Carth wanted to protest, if only to be contrary for contrary’s sake. But sleep had already been his plan, and sleep offered respite from his thoughts.



Bastila took the last remaining bed. Mission stretched out in the far corner of the room, and Zaalbar curled up not far from her. Leaving Carth with the middle of the room, just asking to be trod on, the doorway, again, trod on, or the corner near Orin’s bed.



He took the blanket she’d kicked off her, sitting on the bed a moment to pull off his boots. Then, lying down and using a boot as his pillow, he turned on to his side, and let sleep take him.