KotOR I: Orin Dakall

Carth watched as Orin bounded up from the floor and over to her hanging armor, silently pulling it down and feeling it to see if it was dry. The others appeared to be sleeping soundly.



"May I ask you something?"



Orin looked up, one leg half in her armor. "Course."



"Why the hell are you in such a good mood?"



Her cheer faltered. She shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "Good dream."



"How pleasant for you," he deadpanned.



Orin was fighting to keep hold of her calm when Mission bolted up to sitting. Both Orin and Carth jumped, looking at her in alarm.



"What time is it?" she demanded, throwing off her blanket and grabbing her things.



"Time to wake up like a normal person and not creep everyone the hell out," Orin said, looking at her like she might start speaking in tongues.



Apparently the question had been rhetorical. Within moments Mission was dressed and nudging Zaalbar with her foot.

"Come on, we have to go!"



"Where?" Carth and Orin asked in unison.



Mission stopped, looking over at them cautiously.



"Nowhere, really. Just something me and Z are working on. It's dumb. Nothing interesting."



Orin shrugged, pulling her own armor the rest of the way on. Carth narrowed his eyes in suspicion.



"What's going on, Mission?"



She had gone back to nudging Zaalbar. Though now it was more of a kick. "Nothing. It's boring."



"Why do you care?" Orin asked with a yawn. "If it's boring, where's the appeal in knowing?"



"She's hiding something," he returned.



"Who isn't?" Suddenly Carth's suspicious gaze was leveled at her, scrutinizing. She shoved away her surge of defensiveness and turned to Mission, now trying to pull a reluctantly waking Zaalbar to his feet. "Will it jeopardize us or anything we're trying to accomplish?"



"No!" Mission said, dropping Zaalbar's arm. "Of course not, it, it's not even related!"



Orin nodded. "Okay." She looked to Carth. "Suspicion allayed?"



He looked at her, then Mission, then her again. "No."



Zaalbar whined as Mission shoved his things into his arms and drug him out the door.



Carth waited for the door to close, then he turned to Orin. "What did he say?"



She rolled her eyes. "Maybe you should just learn the language."



"Yeah, well, he has a lifedebt to you. Once we're back with the fleet..." He let his voice trail off meaningfully.



"Right," she said dully. "Not like we'll be spending much time together then." She picked at a hangnail, then: "He said he was sore."



His brow creased and he looked at Orin with concern. "You don't think... I mean, those two aren't... Right? Just anatomically, it'd be... Ow."



She raised an eyebrow. "Because you know what having a vagina feels like?"



Carth colored brightly and turned, looking for his gear.



"And I have no idea," she added.



"Well why not?" he snapped. "You'll pester me about my life, but no one else?"



"Mission's already told me anything interesting there is to know about her. And Zaalbar too, though she probably wouldn't guess it. 'Fled trouble on Kashyyyk.' Czerka loves its slave trade, and I'm guessing thanks to him escaping, they're one short. And if they're having sex... Well, at least some members of this sad little group are."



Orin peered at Bastila, still asleep. She walked over, knelt next to the bed, and positioned her lips next to Bastila's ear.



"Plus, Bastila," she belted, "well, everybody knows her story. Cause it's the exact same as every other Jedi's. Taken from her family young enough that she'd have minimal memories of them, then raised in a monastic, stuffy academy full of dullards and whiny do-gooders."



Blue-gray eyes glared up at her.



"Morning!" Orin said brightly, hopping up and throwing her things to her. "Let's go! Lots to do!"



The droid, still sitting in its corner, suddenly burst toward the door with a stream of excited beeps and whoops. All three eyed it in wary surprise.



"Any chance you're a brilliant mechanic?" Orin asked Bastila with a sheepish smile.



-----



"What are you thinking about?"



Orin looked up from the foodstuff she was pushing around her plate. Once again they were eating at the cantina. And Ajuur had already told her off for bothering him when he was busy with plans for the duel. Now Bastila was watching her and her untouched food.



"Universal peace."



Bastila arched an annoyingly well-groomed eyebrow at her.



"Lovely. What really?"



Orin sighed. "Petey."



Carth snorted, stopping his laden fork just before it reached his mouth. "The rancor?"



"Mm-hmm." She stared down at her plate wistfully. "We would've had such adventures together."



"Aren't smugglers supposed to be low-profile?" he said wryly.



"I'm an enigma," she retorted. "Besides, I send Petey in to rampage around a bit, and no one's going to notice whatever I'm doing. Can't get more low-profile than invisible."



He shook his head and took his bite. "You're the only person in the universe who'd want a killing machine as a pet," he said around his mouthful.



"Aw, does that mean you think I'm unique?"



"And an enigma."



The rest of breakfast and the walk toward the Sith base consisted of a lecture from Bastila on what made an appropriate pet. Nothing, apparently. Not for Orin's line of work.



As they passed Janice Nall's shop, she saw both Carth and Orin glance at it before looking away. Which started her on morals and how being in a situation of conflict and desperation makes them more important, not less.



This was when Orin felt it necessary to stop, pull off her pink eyewear-thingy, and slingshot it into the back of Bastila's head.



"Can you give it a rest?" she growled. "Did you not notice my contrition yesterday?"



"I didn't," Bastila said, frowning as Orin picked up her visor.



"Well I was."



They stared each other down for a long moment before Carth sighed.



"She was," he admitted ruefully. "If she hadn't been, she would have fought back when I stopped her."



"See?" Orin put a hand on her hip, irritated defiance rolling off her. "You're more oblivious than him. So no more bloody lecturing. He can cover for both of you. Unless someone actually decides to lecture someone other than me." She spun around and stalked toward the base. The droid followed her with a submissive whir.



Bastila was on her heels. "You don't understand! As a, a person with your gifts, you must put more consideration into your actions!"



"I consider my actions plenty," Orin said through gritted teeth, pulling her visor off again in warning.



"Her gifts?" Carth caught up with the two, Orin trying to out-walk Bastila and Bastila matching her pace. "What gifts?"



The Jedi stopped, then started up again when the others kept moving. "It's nothing for you to concern yourself with, Carth."



Orin turned, walking backwards. "Bas thinks the only reason we managed to find her is because I'm sensitive."



"You're, wait, what?"



"Force Sensitive," Bastila corrected, then grimaced, realizing she'd just told Carth what she hadn't wanted him to hear.



"Whatever. She thinks I have awesome Jedi mind powers or something, otherwise we'd still be sitting in our escape pod hoping someone would come save us."



"That's not--"



"What about him?" Orin asked, jerking her head toward Carth, who was back to looking unreadable. "He was there too. Is he a wannabe Jedi?"



Bastila bit her lip, glancing nervously over at him and cleared her throat. "While Captain Onasi is a remarkably talented individual--"



"That's a no," Carth muttered, stopping at the base entrance. He tapped the droid and pointed it toward the door. "Get to work."



The droid gave an annoyed buzz and wheeled forward, slicing the door in a matter of moments. It wheeled back with a smug series of beeps as the door whooshed open.



"All right, little thingy," Orin said. "Back to the apartment."



"Will it be safe on the street alone?" Bastila said, looking at it hesitantly. "What if someone tries to take it?"



"It can take my blaster," Orin said, pulling it from the back of her weapons harness and offering it to the droid.



"No." Carth gave it his own, as well as the disruptor pistol he used. "You'll probably hit more security when you get inside. You should keep it around in case."



"Yeah, but once we're inside we can just hit things until they open."



"Well, in case." Carth turned sullenly and headed back the way they'd come.



"You can still come too," Orin said, trotting after him. "There's no rule saying only three of us can go."



"No. Four's too many to keep track of. I'll just... go check up on Mission and Zaalbar."



Orin stopped. "Are... are you sure?"



Carth looked over his shoulder at her. "Go. You're wasting time." He kept walking, finally hearing them enter the base, sealing the door behind them. He slowed to a stroll, giving the man still spewing anti-alien bigotry a leveling glare as he passed.



He had every intention of returning to the apartment. He certainly didn't feel like socializing. Not now that Orin and Bastila were going to be forming their own little secret Jedi club. And Mission and Zaalbar already had their own been-through-everything-together-and-we're-the-bestest-friends club, not that he particularly wanted to befriend an adolescent and a being he was incapable of communicating with, short of rough hand gestures.



Guess I'll be spending my free time with the droid until we leave. I sure as hell won't be making nice with the Mandalorian.



It was then that he realized he'd turned back on his path and was now at the door of Janice Nall's shop.



No, he thought. I can't. It's not, it's only been... He shook his head. Hell with it. Why not?



And before he could answer himself, he stepped inside.