KotOR I: Orin Dakall

Orin stared at him blankly.



“Um, okay,” Carth said, “I guess I was expecting more of a reaction than that.”



“Why?”



“Well, from the way you were around him before, I--”



“Why did you see him?”



“Because I know what he did to you,” he said, his jaw tight.



Orin looked like she’d simultaneously been punched in the stomach and drained of blood.



“What?” Her voice was small. And her eyes... He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and hug her to his chest. To have his fingers in her hair as she cried out the poison from that experience.



“I just... I’m not stupid, Dakall.” He said it softly, but he still winced at his tone. “He was one of your torturers.”



“What did he tell you?”



“Nothing about what he did,” he said quickly. “He thought I already knew.”



She blinked and gave her head a confused shake. “He thought I told you?”



The logical part of her brain clicked on, and she looked at him shrewdly.



“What did you do?”



“Nothing,” he said, not looking her in the eye. His hands twitched guiltily. She pushed herself up, sitting cross legged and extending a hand.



“Let’s see.”



He stared resolutely at the wall behind her. She waited. His eyes traveled slowly to hers, then darted back to the wall again. She snapped her fingers.



“Now.”



He reluctantly held out his hands, palms up. She inspected one in the slowly increasing light. About halfway down his palm were small, horizontal cuts. His fingernails. She flipped his hand over. His knuckles were bruised and raw.



“Is he alive?” she asked dispassionately.



“Yes.”



“Why did you go see him?”



“To find out what happened to the others.”



She hung her head and closed her eyes. “I already know what happened to them.”



“Yeah, well, I had to make sure.”



“You had to.” She looked out the window as dawn broke. “How chivalrous.”



Mission yawned and they both turned to look at her. She sat up and stretched. “Morning. Feeling better?”



“Yeah,” Orin said, motioning for her to come over. She hopped up, with far more energy than a person should have that early, and walked over.



“What are we talking about?”



Carth leaned back in surprise as Orin’s fist closed around the collar of the Twi’lek’s shirt and wrenched her head down to her own head’s height.



“I was thinking we could discuss why you drugged my vegetables.”



Mission raised her hands defensively. “It wasn’t my idea! I didn’t want to! Zelka was just worried you weren’t going to stop and rest...”



“You could’ve said no.”



“I... well. Maybe I wasn’t sure you would either. I was worried!”



Carth tapped Orin’s shoulder. She looked up. Zaalbar was now standing, looking none too pleased with the picture greeting him. Orin released Mission.



“Keep your pet on a leash,” she growled to the Wookiee. “And keep her away from sedatives.”



“She was trying to help,” Carth chided softly.



“That’s help I don’t need.” She picked up Carth’s boot, still laying on the bed, and hurled it at Bastila’s legs. “Get a move on, Bas. Full docket today.”



Brown eyes glared over at her. She ignored them, getting up and searching for her boots and weapons. Mission held them out to her in silent apology. She took them with a curt nod.



“Breakfast, then we look for leads. Mish, you know Lower City best. Take Zaalbar and Bas and check your sources for any ways off-planet.”



“Um, I think it’d be better if just Big Z came. No one’s gonna want to talk around her. I mean, they don’t know her, and what they know of her is that she’s with the Republic. Up here you might run into somebody who didn’t see the race.”



“Fine,” she said shortly. “The three of us will check out the cantina.”



“Carth and I went there yesterday,” Bastila said.



Orin looked over at Carth for confirmation. He rolled his eyes.



“Won’t hurt to hit the morning crowd,” she said. “And new people come in everyday.”



Bastila sniffed, but didn’t argue.



They got dressed and ready in near-silence, Mission chattering about what she wanted for breakfast and somehow segueing into what she’d eat everyday if she had all the credits she could ever want.



They exited the apartment, Carth handing Zaalbar enough credits to cover Mission and his breakfast. The two left for Lower City and Carth hurriedly put the sizable roll of credits away.



The three headed for the entrance when a Twi’lek stepped in front of them. The same Twi’lek that Carth had seen sleeping in the hall the night before.



“You there. Human,” he said to Orin. “You are the rider who won the Great Swoop Race in the Lower City, yes?”



“So much for people up here not watching the race,” she said, examining her nails. “What do you want?”



“Me? I want nothing. I am only a runner. I work for the man who hired me.”



“Who is...?”



“Canderous Ordo.” Orin suddenly looked interested. “I have a message from him. He says to meet him in the cantina.”



“That’s it?”



“Yes.”



They stared at each other for a moment. “Well. Thanks then.”



“I advise you not to wait too long,” he said. “Mandalorians are known for many things, but patience is not one of them.”



“It’s not something I’m real good at either.”



The Twi’lek took the hint and left.



“Well?” Carth said.



“We’re still getting breakfast first.”



“Will we be looking for a way off Taris first as well?” Bastila asked, putting a hand on her hip.



“Nope.”